II.2 Note: With a few exceptions, up until 274.5, and then after 304.5, the British Museum’s ms. indicates the connections between main text and left margin commentary. I will signify the connections as “goes with.” I use “link”/”linked”/”linking”/”links” for the relationship between footnotes (designated “Fn.”) and main text: for instance Fn. 1, beginning “Rawmeash,” is linked to “Am shot, says the bigguard” (260.4-5). 260.1: "As:" the main text of II.2 ends with "A" and ends with "o" (308.24) - probably one of FW's many alpha-omega's. 260.2: LM 1: “With his…disgrace:” goes with “teetootomtotalitarian,” as in patriarchal authority. See McHugh: recalls that, in Portrait, chapter one, the infant Stephen’s first remembered sight is of his father’s “hairy face.” 260.2-3: “Tea tea too oo:” as elsewhere, the song “Tea for Two.” Also, “ta-ta,” “toodle-oo:” taking leave. Also, teetotaler 260.4: “caps ever:” i.e. full caps, as in the RM commentary. Occurs in this sense in 374.9 260.5-7: “And howelse do we hook our hike to find that pint of porter place?:” Patrick McCarthy reads this as “how do we find the pub (Porter’s place, the place where pints of porter are served)?” (The response, “Am shot,” apparently means something like “I’m damned if I know.” 260.5: “hook our hike:” make a sharp swerve in their trajectory. In golf terminology, then and now, it would be to the left. See entry for .8. 260.8-15: “Quick…Roundpoint:” most – though probably not all - of the items on this list correspond to geometrical figures: “wheel” (circle); “mid…mall” (a line, tracing a midpoint between two parallel lines); “diagnosing Lavatery Square” (a square, diagonally bisected to form two right-angle triangles); “shouldering Berkeley Alley” (this one may be a stretch, but an alley is usually in a straight line); “Carfax” (a crossroads, an X); “Gadeway” (an arch or quadrilateral with “onesidemissing,” which at 119.31 signifies an “allblind alley"); "Lane” (another – probably – straight line); “Old Vico Roundpoint” (another circle). Resembles "Ithaca"'s opening Stephen-Bloom, itinerary, plotted along Euclidian lines (and arcs). Compare the sigla of 299. Fn. 4. 260.8: “Quick lunch:” in Joyce’s time, a “quick-lunch” was a fast-food restaurant. 260.8: “lunch:” launch. (A “quick launch” was either a shallow-drafted boat, capable of being put to sea in short order, or the launching itself.) “By our left” seems to confirm that the “hook” (.5) is to the left. 260.9: “Livius Lane:” Livy’s monumental “Ab Urbe Condita Libri” covers the history of Rome from its traditional founding in 753 BC up to his own lifetime, in the reign of Augustus. 260.9: “Mezzofanti Mall:” Cardinal Mezzofanti was a hyperpolyglot, fluent in at least thirty languages. (His appearance at some point in FW would seem inevitable.) A mall, up until the second half of the 20th century, was a fashionable, sometimes tree-lined promenade. 260.10: “diagonising:” again, compare “Ithaca:” they crossed both the circus before George's church diametrically.” 260.10: “Lavatery Square:” in Portrait, chapter one, a “square” is a lavatory. 260.13: LM 3 goes with “d’Arezzo’s.” 260.17: “moll:” U.S. underworld slang for gangster’s girlfriend 260.17-8: “cuckling a hoyden:” Brewer: “cucking-stool:” "a kind of chair formerly used for ducking scolds,” etc. in a pond. 260.18: “cuckling:” cuckolding. A “hoyden” can be male. Fn. 1: “Herod with the Cormwell’s eczema…about his blue canaries…his beaver beard:” besides King Herod, who suffered from chronically inflamed skin, perhaps a passing glance at Cromwell’s famous “warts and all.” Blue Canaries: a term for either the Canary Islands or for some of them. “Beaver beard:” a “beaver” is slang for a conspicuously fullgrown, or overgrown, beard. (As such, by way of its link to “bigguard” (.7), in sync with LM 1’s “hairy face”) Fn. 3: “behind the floodlights:” given the note's reference to ("a royal divorce") A Royal Divorce, also “behind the footlights,” signaling an account, possibly an exposé, of theatre people off-stage. (The footnote links a glimpse of a theatrically costumed “hoyden” (.18) being cuddled by an “enthewsyass,” enthusiast, presumably of the theatre; W.C. Day’s 1885 autobiographical “Beyond the Footlights: Or, the Stage as I Knew It” includes "enthusiast" in this sense.) 261.4: “whins:” winds 261.4: “howe:” home 261.4-5: “howe. His hume.” Home sweet home; David Hume 261.5: “Hencetaking tides:” Brutus in “Julius Caesar:” “There is a tide in the affairs of men, / Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune.” To “take the tide” is to sail with it – here, it brings us home, as it had formerly borne us out. Compare 627.34-628.16 – 3.1-3.3, from “passing out” to sea to coming “back” to “Howth Castle and Environs.” 261.6-7: “ensigned with seakale:” compare the “emerald trail of seaweed” which makes a “sign” on the thigh of the bird-girl: Portrait, chapter four. Seakale is green. 261.12: “cacchinated behind his culosses:” from behind him, laughed at his colossal ("cul-") arse - one of HCE's distinguishing features 261.13: LM 1 goes with “mosoleum,” presumably connecting “Tod,” German for death, to “mosoleum…Without Breath.” 261.14: “upshoot:” offshoot, upshot 261.15: “stupor out of sopor:” i.e. stupor after supper – drowsiness after a full meal. (As elsewhere: he’s not really dead, just somnolent.) 261.15-6: “Hymanian Glattstoneburg:” compare “glatt stones” thrown at HCE at 72.27. Perhaps the sense is that those stones have since been used to build a fortress, named “Glattstoneburg.” The attacker threatened to “build rocks over” HCE (73.07); smooth [“glatt”] stones would presumably be good for that purpose; four pages later HCE was accumulating furnishings for his “glasstone honophreum” (77.34). 261.17: “entiringly:” untiringly 261.17: LM 2: “Dig him in the rubsh:” goes with “tumultuous under his chthonic exterior” (.18). “Dig him:” OED’s earliest entry for “to dig” in the hipster sense of “to get,” to comprehend, is 1935. Still, it seems to fit here. Also, of course, in the literal sense: you dig someone into or out of a (“Tumulty” (.19)) tumulus. 261.19: “plain Mr Tumulty in muftilife:” “Muftilife” (see McHugh) is also multi-life/lives, that is, “more mob than man” (.21-2). Point of Fn. 2, linked to this sequence, is that he has many sides or identities: the list of addresses encompasses both a concentric self-situating similar to Stephen’s in Portrait, chapter one (see note to Fn. 2), and a random list of different and dissimilar locations, for instance The House of Commons and “Longfellow’s Lodgings.” 261.19-20: “antisipiences:” anticipatory cognitions; paired with “recognisances” (.20), its “anti” includes “ante.” 261.23: “Ainsoph, this upright one:” “upright one” because, as Brendan O Hehir notes, “aon” is Gaelic for the numeral 1, which is upright. With “zeroine” (.24) next to him the number becomes, as McHugh says, 10, qualifying him as “decans” (.31) and “the decemt man” (262.1). See next entry. 261.24: “noughty:” “nought” = zero. Hence “zeroine.” 261.24-5: “To see in his horrorscup:” domestic tableau: he’s reading the newspaper, with its daily horoscope, alongside his wife. Compare .28 and note. 261.25-6: “mehrkurios than saltz of sulphur:” mercury, saltpeter, and sulphur were all ingredients for Chinese fireworks. (So was carbon – not, as far as I can tell, included here. Mercury sometimes substituted for sulphur.) Also, salt of mercury, a.k.a. corrosive sublimate (occurs in “Circe”) – used in treatment for syphilis 261.27: “cryptogam:” “gam:” Latin root for “marriage.” Hence “bridable” (.27). 261.28: “broken heaventalk:” one way of describing the zodiac, broken into twelve “houses” or thirty-six “decans” 261 Fn.1: “ludo:” a board game, similar to Parcheesi. (Not in the OED, and no Google Books hits for Joyce’s time, but it does appear in Flann O’Brien’s At Swim-Two-Birds, published in 1939.) 261 Fn. 2: “Kellywick…Terra Firma:” linked to “Mr Tumulty in muftilife” (.19). Based on this footnote, “multilife” is probably in the mix as well: again, as in Stephen’s nine-stage concentrically expanding self-location, from “Stephen Dedalus” to “The Universe” (Portrait, chapter one), his identity moves outwardly in nine phases, intersecting a range of different selves along the way. 1. “Kellywick:” bailiwick, in secondary sense (OED) “One’s place of operation or sphere,” in this case of the individual sometimes named Earwicker. 2. “Longfellow’s Lodgings:” different meanings on different scales, from general place of residence to (OED) “accommodation in hired rooms or in a lodging house.” 3. “House of Comments III:” the house or lodging house itself. (Oxford editors have “111” for “III.”) 4. “Cake Walk:” a “walk” is commonly a lane or side street. 5. “Amusing Avenue:” an avenue is a main street – bigger than a side street. 6. “Salt Hill:” a city district, in this case (McHugh) of Galway. 7. “Co Mahogany:” a territorial entity (a county, e.g.Ireland's County Mayo) encompassing cities (e.g.Galway) and/or other civic districts. 8. “Izalond:” Ireland, a country. 9. "Terra Firma:" Earth, a planet. (Typical, for a Joyce list, are the incipient divagations: Salt Hill is in Galway but Galway is not in County Mayo; “Longfellow’s Lodgings” might be either (McHugh) de Valera’s official residence or one of two tourist sites in America.) Along – again - with the Stephen of Portrait, chapter one, compare Kevin’s nine-stage immersion in 605.4-606.12. 262.1: “decemt:” "dec-:" this is the tenth question in the series. Also, again, "Ainsoph" (one) and his "zeroine" make a 10. 262.3: “This bridge is upper:” “The bridge is up” would normally mean that a drawbridge was raised and that therefore one couldn’t “Cross” (.4). Perhaps “Cross” means “Never mind the bridge; ford the stream.” What William did at the Battle of the Boyne 262.3-6: “upper…Cross…castle…Knock:” as Mink notes, this is at “the knock out in the park” (3.22), site of the fallen Finn’s (the “cavedin earthwight”’s (.11)) “tumptytumtoes” (3.21), at the opposite end from his head at Howth. 262.8: “pearse:” pass 262.10: LM 2: "Swing the banjo, bantams, bounce-the-baller's blown to fook:" from Digger Dialects – A Collection of Slang Phrases used by the Australian Soldiers on Active Service, compiled by W.H. Downing, as recorded in Genetic Joyce Studies, Issue 18, by Ian MacArthur and Geert Lernout: "bounce the ball:" to assert oneself. "Swing the banjo:" dig with a shovel. "Bantam:" a short man. "Blown to fook:" shatter to fragments 262.13-4: “When shoo, his flutterby, / Was netted and named:” “flutterby:” an instance of what is sometimes called “Adamic” word-formation: the original coinings, presumed closest to the experiential essence of the thing or act named. Otto Jespersen (see McHugh) cites “flutterby” as an example of the “Secret Languages” of children and “flutter” as an example of how words for relatively quiet repetitive movement frequently begin with “l-combinations,” especially “fl.” Jespersen was an exponent of “phonosemanticism” or “sound symbolism,” the belief, in the words of Wikipedia, that “phonemes carry meanings in and of themselves” – as such the antithesis of Saussure and, later, Derrida. Your annotator believes that FW, often if not always, entertains and exhibits a similar belief in “the sound sense sympol” (612.29), that it is clearly the work of the author who called Verlaine’s “La Lune blanchit sur lest toits” “perfection” because “one could hear the very sound of the rain” and described I.8 as “an attempt to subordinate words to the rhythm of water” (Ellmann (1984), 431, 564). (The words of the footnote (Fn. 4) linked to this sequence may constitute a version of (childish) Adamic language.) Other examples from Jespersen occur throughout FW: the Mookse’s “javanese” (159.12) is “javanais,” the French “Secret Language;” “A pengeneepy for your warcheekeepy” (275. Fn. 1: a penny for your pants), “pengeypigses” (313.16: pants). Jespersen cites a number of cases of children’s intuitive grasp of onomatopoeic rightness: one Danish child’s preference for “krager” as the best word for “crows” may be behind FW’s crow’s “kraaking” (11.1) and later derivatives of the sound for crows; the same applies to, for instance, “raabraabs” for ravens (491.14). For other examples, see Otto Jespersen, Language: Its Nature, Development, and Origin, passim. For Joyce’s extensive use of this and of Jespersen’s Growth and Structure of the English Language, see James Joyce: The Finnegans Wake Notebooks at Buffalo, volumes VI.B.2 and VI.B.6, published by Brepols. 262.15: LM 2 goes with “furscht kracht of thunder” (.12). 262.15: “Erdnacrusha, requiestress, wake em:” gist: if he (him) or they/them (em) are in the Requiescat stage, they are buried, under a crushing quantity of Erd, earth, and ought to be resurrected, waked. 262.16: “And let luck’s puresplutterall lucy at is:” “luck’s:” Latin lux: light. “Lutterall:” Latin lutera: washbasins. “Lucy at is:” Latin "luceatis," subjunctive of: you (plural) shed light. With overtones of “pluo,” rain, and “plu,” prefix for many, something like: and let light shine upon you, washing you clean as with basins of rainwater. (Probably pertinent that the rain appears four lines after a “kracht of thunder,” hence rain, and that the principals are in a hurry to get indoors.) An appropriate invocation for someone (see previous entry) just unearthed. As with all FW’s “lucy”s, it is surely relevant that Joyce’s daughter Lucia was named for the patro saint of sight. (“Shoot the shades” in the linked footnote (Fn. 5) perhaps translates as: banish darkness.) 262.18: “wise fool:“ sophomore 262.19: "Sow byg eat:” according to Christiani, “Sow” (beget); build; eat 262.22-3: ”And that skimmelk steed still in the groundloftfan:” the image of a white horse - (skim) milk-white steed - is still in the fanlight over the door. A sign of Unionist sympathies – hence, probably, “still:” it hasn’t yet been removed or smashed. Accords with 261 Fn. 2 specification of his origins as being in Northern Ireland 262.24: “beastskin trophies:” bearskins, as hunting trophies. Your annotator has suggested elsewhere that one of them is a rug in the parents’ bedroom. 262.27: “The babbers ply the pen:" the talkers – babblers - are also writing. 262.27: LM 4 (“Tickets…Raffle.”) goes with “The bibbers drang the den” (.27). 262.28: “The bibbers drang the den:” “bibbers” are drinkers. “Drang,” from German gedrang: thronged, crowded. With overtone of “din” in “den,” probably also an echo of “Sturm und Drang.” 262.29: “tin:” slang for money Fn. 1: “Yussive smirte and ye mermon answerth from his beelyingplace below the tightmark, Gotahelv!:” link to “Knock:” apparition of BVM at Knock in 1879; apparition of Angel Moroni to (“Yussive smirte”) Joseph Smith (Oxford editors: the “Yussive” in “Yussive smirte” is “Jussive”) in 1823. “Below the tightmark:” below the belt. Also, from Joyce's Notebook VI.B.45.134, "bury below the tidemark," so as not to be buried in earth. Hence ("mermon") merman. "Gotahelv!:" besides Go to hell!, Götaelv, a major Viking trading center Fn. 2: "Dozi:" according to Digger Dialects, in Indian currency a two-anna piece Fn. 3: “A goodrid croven in a tynwalled tub:” link to “furscht kracht of thunder” (.12). Vico’s cowering humanity is being “croven”/craven, hiding, in a cave, from the thunder. “Croven” from “coven,” “convent:” a coming-together: according to Vico: marriage, family, community all begin at this moment. Fn. 4: “Apis amat aram…:” link to “When shoo, his flutterby, / Was netted named” (.13-4): again, according to Vico, lightning/thunder scares people into caves. The vagrant female (“shoo” – she) butterfly – “flutterby” - becomes a domestic bee (“Apis”). She is thus “netted and named:” committed to matrimony, given her husband’s name. She vows to love “Aram:” Shem’s son, patriarch of Armenian people. (The subsequent injunctions in the main text are mainly ceremonial prayers for their future prosperity.) Fn. 5: “And after dinn to shoot the shades:” after the tumult and the shouting – and dinner – pull down the shades, for the wedding night Fn. 7: “To go to Begge:” as throughout this note, “Go to bed.” Perhaps the monstrous Zurich “Bögge” will show up in nightmares. 263.2: “hakemouth:” in his annotation to “Scylla and Charybdis,” Gifford says that a “hake” is a gossipy old woman. Among fishermen, hake is known for its exceptionally large mouth full of sharp teeth, requiring caution when hauling in and removing the hook; 180.30 ("Hake's haulin! Hook's fisk") seems to confirm. 263.2: “which under:” most authors would probably have inserted a comma between these two words. 263.3-6: “Ignotus Loquor…harangued bellyhooting fishdrunks…from a father theobalder brake:" he used to be a (("Loquor") loquacious) temperance preacher, disciple of Ireland's temperance crusader Father Theobald Mathew, haranguing drunks (as in, ("fishdrunks") drinks like a fish) against liquor. (Now, of course, mutatis mutandis, he’s a publican.) 263.3: “foggy old:” from foggy old London 263.5: “stamping ground:” sometimes “stomping ground:": not sure whether this expression registers in British Isles; in America, it signifies one’s place of origin. Compare .9 and note. 263.6: “the incenstrobed:” the intrepid 263.9: “blighty:” WW I: English soldier slang for home, stomping ground 263.10-1: “ostrogothic and ottomanic faith converters:” both Ostrogoths and Ottomans invaded from the (ost) east; the latter campaigned to gain converts to Islam. 263.11-5: “Pandemia’s…Helleniky:” I suggest that here and earlier there are memories of the “Spanish flu” pandemic of 1918-20. All three HCE permutations here include one variant on Spain - “Hispano,” “Castilian,” “Espanol” – following “Pandemia’s post-wartem plastic surgeons.” The flu was a pandemic; its worst phase occurred just after WW I. The general setting is “postwartem:” soldiers returning home from war – again, apparently WW I. As McHugh notes, “postwartem” is both post-war and post-mortem. 263.15-6: “Rolf the Ganger, Rough the Gangster, not a feature alike and the face the same:” i.e. legendary conqueror and modern street “rough” are essentially the same. “Ganger:” gangster 263.20-30: “since primal made alter in garden of Idem…archetypt:” variations on the theme proposed by J.S. Atherton as FW’s central “Hearasay” (LM 4), that God was the original sinner, and that his sin was the Creation. Hence the redemptively sacrificial altar (“alter”) is set up in Eden from the get-go; hence “paradox lust,” the act of creating life, is, paradoxically, the same as the sin of lust, which as Milton put it “brought death into the world.” This phrase from LM 4 goes with “O felicitous culpability” (.29), felix culpa, inviting the heretically revisionist reading that God ordained the sin in the garden so that Jesus would have to be sacrificed, and so much for the Abrahamic Covenant. 263.20-1: “alter in garden of Idem:” possibly a glance at the “Same and Other” of Plato’s Timaeus 263.23: LM 3 goes with ”loth and pleasestir” (.23): love and pleasure. 263. 29-30: LM 4: “Hearasay in paradox lust:” goes with “O felicitous culpability.” Fn. 2: "We dont hear the booming cursowarries:" see McHugh. Joyce's note cited there refers to an excerpt from Lucien Lévy-Brúhl, L’expérience mystique et les symboles ches les Primitifs, about a tribal tradition that different animals are responsible for the weather in different forms, and that (my translation) "It is the cassowary which plays the main part: its growling ('grondement') is actually the thunder." Fn. 3: “And this once golden bee a cimadoro:” Cimex = Latin for bug, in pejorative sense. Since this is linked to a lament on the fall in the Garden of Eden, an example of how things, insects included, became degraded Fn. 4: “Sinobiled:” “Synod” = Lutheran (“Lutharius”) equivalent of bishopric 264.3: “ernst:” earnest = offering 264.5-6: “Horn of Heatthen, highbrowed! Brook of Life, backfrish!:” HCE and ALP as mountain and river. “Horn” is German for mountain peak. If “Heatthen” includes “Heath,” the Matterhorn (German: Meadow-peak) may be in the picture; compare 274.7. 264.6-7: “backfrish!:” backfisch, as (McHugh) teenage girl, completes the family portrait: HCE and ALP (“ech with pal” (.3)), the standard “two…three” signature of the twins (.4-5), and, here, Issy. 264.12: “Petra sware unto Ulma:” Petra and Ulma are both girl’s names. 264.14: LM 1 goes with “On my veiny life” (.14)! 264.15: RM 2: “THE LOCALISATION OF LEGEND LEADING TO THE LEGALISATION OF LATIFUNDISM:” i.e. grossly disproportionate distribution of property is justified, and made law, by adoption of founding-father myths. 264.19-20: “A phantom city, phaked of philim pholk:” with (McHugh) recall of 221.21’s “Shadows by the film folk,” recalls The Wasteland’s “Unreal City” of shadowy half-men. “Phaked:" full 264.19: “broads:” OED: “In East Anglia, an extensive piece of fresh water formed by the broadening out of a river” 264.20: “bowed and sould:” bowed-down and soiled. “Sould”/sold in sense of outsmarted and cheated 264.20: “four of hundreds:” 1. the Hundreds of Manhood, in Mink’s words an ancient “territorial division of Sussex,” ancestral home to the Earwickers and as such mentioned several times in FW; 2. the Chiltern Hundreds, a nominal office to which for technical reasons Members of Parliament officially apply when wishing to surrender their seats; 3. the Greek oligarchy that seized power during the Peloponnesian War; 4. the Gilded Age social elite of New York (so named because four hundred was the maximum capacity of Mrs. Astor’s ballroom) 264.22: LM. 2 goes with “partitional” (.22). Pretty clear connection to (see McHugh) Collins-Mulcahy story – a civil war over the issue of Irish partition 264.26ff: “sainted lawrels...:” Fritz Senn in AWN New Series VIII # 1 shows that many or all of the names here are of people resident at the locations listed. 264.26: “sainted lawrels evremberried:” “sainted” – scented. Given that the bay laurel (the probable variety) has berries and is evergreen, “evremberried” incorporates something like “ever-berried;” also a scrambling of “ever-remembered” (and “buried.”) Laurels are known for being sweet-smelling. Laurentius = Latin for “laurel.” 264.31: “meet:” fitting. From Book of Common Prayer: “It is meet and right so to do.” (Also, of course, a place for meeting) Fn. 1: “Startnaked and bonedstiff. We vivvy soddy. All be dood:” linked to “Fossilation, all branches” (.11-2). The branches of a fossilized tree (.11-2), buried in the sod, would look stark, bare, boney, stiff, sad, and dead. Fn. 2: “When you dreamt that you’d wealth in marble arch do you ever think of pool beg slowe:” link is probably to “bank,” depository of wealth, in “sunnybank” (.23), along with general sense of “sunny” meaning good fortune. Marble Arch is a posh district of London; Poolbeg is a poor part of Dublin. 265.1-2: “the still that was mill:” Chapelizod’s “disused distillery,” mentioned in “A Painful Case.” Mink reports that it was formerly owned by the Chapelizod “Mills, flax spinner and linen manufacturers.” 265.2: “Kloster that was Yeomansland:” a nuns’ cloister would be a kind of no-man’s-land. Chapelizod has a Mt. Sackville Secondary School taught by nuns; according to Mink it was once a convent. 265.3-4: “the quick foregone on:” the once quick, now dead 265.4-5: "elm Lefanunian abovemansioned:” the elm extends over the housetops – above the house, here promoted to a mansion. (In general, during this introduction the precincts seem to have been glamorized, as if part of some touristy travelogue.) 265.5-6: “the retrospectioner:” up until at least 266.21, II.2 will continue to be the narrative of a returner’s retrospective. 265.8: “fragolance of the fraisey beds:” strawberry fragrance. House of Fragonard sold perfumes, some with strawberry scents. 265.8-9: “the phoenix, his pyre, is still flaming away:” certainly Phoenix Park, as McHugh notes, but given how far we have homed in by now, also the fire in the pub’s central fireplace. Homed in: up to 265.7, II.2 is a homing-in sequence of cinematic zoom shots. Compare, for instance, the opening of Psycho. 265.9: “his pyre:” inspired. To “flame” was/is to hold forth in an overly-enthusiastic way. 265.9-10: “trueprattight:" truly patriotic. Also, as (McHugh) “tripartite,” may combine with “flaming away” (.9) as version of Ovid’s “trifida flamma:” see 281.16. 265.10-1: “the turrises of the sabines are televisible:” the building’s high points – turrets, towers – are visible from afar. Probably an early glimpse of the pub’s rooftop “supershielded umbrella antennas for distance getting” detailed at 309.17-8 - as elsewhere, doubling as a telegraph cabler’s (“cobbeler” (.12)) signal tower. (This one may have a bird’s nest in its wiring.) 265.15: LM 1: goes with “af liefest pose” (.14). 265.17: “ivy and hollywood and bower:” English legend’s most famous love bower was Rosamond’s in Hollywood, after which the film capital was presumably named. “Hollywood and Vine” is a famous intersection in Hollywood. Ivy is a vine; bowers are traditionally of vines. 265.18-9: “tho and yeth if you pleather:” Italian expression: “Cosi e si vi pare” – It’s right if it seems so to you 265.20: “two barrenny old perishers:” Abraham and Sarah, from whom multitudes descended. Sarah was surprised when it turned out she wasn't barren after all. 265.21: “a kilolitre in metromyriams:” a kilolitre is one cubic meter, 220 imperial gallons: in other words, a whole lot. Evidently refers to the myriads of offspring. (See previous entry.) 265.22-3: “the parent bole:” the original tree in a stand, at the center of later-generation trees and seedlings 265.27: “wustworts:” Chapelizod is (approximately) westward of central Dublin. Distances are traditionallyh measured from in front of ("generous poet's office" (.28) General Post Office. 265.28: LM 2 goes with “Finntown’s” (.28). Finntown – Finn’s Town – is Dublin. Connections: 1. letters from American “cousins,” arriving at (“generous poet’s office”) General Post Office and delivered by the postman (with possible echo of Our American Cousin, the play being performed when Abraham Lincoln was shot); 2. the twelve (“dozen”) customers are always or almost always bonafides, declared Dubliners entitled to drink after hours if a certain specified distance (here given: .25-8) from Dublin’s official city center, either Nelson’s Pillar or, next to it, the General Post Office. As McHugh notes, it’s three miles. This was the usual requisite distance, although, confusingly, for the Dublin area it could sometimes be five miles – which may help explain why sometimes the travelers’ destination is Lucan, the next town after Chapelizod, about seven miles from Dublin’s center. (More confusion: J. V. Kelleher has the legal distance as "more than four miles" from "home." Tentatively, your annotator suggests that the legal distance varied according to time and region. Any clarification on this subject is welcome.) 265.29: “aloofliest:” leafiest. Compare 624.22. Fn. 1: “Now a muss wash the little face:” Issy speaking: at Fn. 4 (“Googlaa pluplu”) we will hear the splashing sounds of her face-washing. Fn. 2: “A viking vernacular…” obviously not Issy’s voice anymore. She’s absented herself. (The link is to “brandnewburgher” (.13) – a new arrival.) Fn. 3: “H’ dk’ fs’ h’p’y:” see McHugh. In the Ladies’ Room, Issy has purchased – or been offered – a handkerchief to wash her face, with the resulting spluttery sounds. (Link is to “wonderful wanders off” (.16), wonderful waters of.) Rest-room attendants performing such offices used to be fixture of high-class joints. Fn. 4: “Googlaa pluplu:” again, sound of Issy’s face in wash basin Fn. 5: “P. Shuter:” The Egyptian hieroglyphic equivalent of “P” is a shutter. 266.1: “boxomeness of the bedelias:” “Bedelia” is variant of Bridget, Biddy, either way suggestive of chastity - but on the other hand, these bedelias are noted for their buxomness. “Bdellium:” Latin: aromatic gum of the balsam tree 266.2-3: “the store and charter:” as McHugh says, a takeoff on the common pub name “Star & Garter” – but, as noted earlier (78.12-3), the Mullingar also served as a general store. 266.3-13: “Rivapool?...upsturts:” as at the beginning of III.1 (and of “Circe”) the optical wooziness here is at least partly owing to nightfall, complete by the end of the previous chapter, and fog, lingering after that chapter’s thunderstorm; in fact, it won’t lift until 593.6-7. 266.4: “Rivapool? Hod a brieck on it:” hods are used to carry bricks. “Not a brack:” a brack is a mistake or rough spot on clothing; a garment with “not a brack on it” would be just right. So, presumably, would a healthy liver, howevermuch abused - compare 74.13: “Liverpoor? Sot a bit of it!” 266.4: “piers:” OED:” “pier:” “a structure used to support a bridge.” This passage is describing the Chapelizod bridge, a short distance from the Mullingar. General effect is dark and misty. 266.7: “snoo. Znore:” snooze 266.8: “thicker:” the fog 266.8: “Schein:” German for shine, glow; also, appearance as opposed to reality (Sein) 266.9-10: “Which assoars us from the murk of the mythelated in the barrabelowther:” this plays off of “barrow” as tumulus (compare 261 LM 2): we look upward from it (the ground floor) to the upstairs light from the children’s window(s) of .12-3. “Murk” may carry an overtone of lark, soaring. The pub’s spirits, including metheglin, are stored downstairs and/or in the cellar, in barrels; those who have over-indulged in such are feeling murky, seeing murkily. 266.10: “bedevere:” belvedere 266.11-2: “Morningtop’s necessity and Harrington’s invention:” “necessary:” euphemism for toilet. (See McHugh.) Many people, for instance Bloom in Ulysses, visit the toilet in the ("Morningtop's") top o’ the morning. 266.14-5: “love at the latch:” Oberon in A Midsummer Night’s Dream: “But hast thou yet latch’d the Athenian’s eyes / With a love-juice?” 266.15: “nig and nag:” given the setting – front of residence – a hitching post, presumably the same one already noted at 262.20-1. in America at the time typically a caricatured African-American. Non-American rough equivalents were called “Blackamoors.” Hence “nig” for a “nag” 266.16: “principals:” I always thought of this as an Americanism, but OED says that “principal” is a UK synonym for headmaster or headmistress. 266.16-8: “For the rifocillation of their inclination to the manifestation of irritation: doldorboys and doll:” the “-ation” endings identify the “doldorboys” as the four old men; the “doll” would then be their donkey. 266.18-9: “After sound, light and heat, memory, will and understanding:” a kind of internal evolution appropriate to school-learning: physical sensations, followed by intellectual processing 266.21-2: “till wranglers for wringwrowdy wready are:” until the wranglers are ready to start getting rowdy in the (boxing) ring. The mirror-image “F"s of .22, like the "fretful fidget eff" at 120.33ff, F, is always looking for a fight - probably just because of the “F-word” and other monosyllabic obscenities beginning with the same letter, often, as in "Circe" hurled as insults. Compare 266.22: LM 1 and note. 266.22: “at gaze:” this expression appears in “Hades:” Bloom looking out the carriage window at Stephen. The Century Dictionary defines it as “in the attitude of gazing and staring; looking in wonder.” Here, it seems to signify the two fighters attempting to stare one another down. 266.22: LM 1: goes with two facing F’s (.22). Fits both classroom disputation and challenge to fight 266.22: “meet:” a sporting event – here, a prize fight 266.26: "buxon bruzeup:" from Digger Dialects (see note to 262.10): "box-on:" a fight. "Bruzeup:" "Breeze-up:" fear. Also, see next. 266.26: “bruzeup:” bruise-up – a fight 266.26: "give it a burl:" from Digger Dialects (see note to 262.10): to cease 266.27: “june…jenniest:” young…youngest 266.28: “flicklesome:” fickle 266.30-1: “unconscionable:” the unconscious, which can, certainly, entertain unconscionable impulses 266.31-267.1: “flickerflapper fore our unterdrugged:” fickle flapper as object of desire. 20’s flappers were considered sexually forward. Fn. 1: “Sultan of Turkey:” linked to “boxomeness of the bedelias,” a plurality of buxom females, hence harem; also, bdellium is from northern India – Mogul territory Fn. 2: “I have heard this word…:” surely the “word” being remarked is “hobbyhodge” (.1-2), not “hole.” Fn. 4: “A question of pull:” aside from fitting the general theme of attraction, sexual and otherwise (“thine efteased ensuer” etc. (.30)), “pull” is American slang for unofficial influence – an edge, probably unfair. Perhaps explains why the (linked) pursued female chooses “ensuer” over “frondeur” (.27-30). 267.4-6: “Elpis, thou fountain of the greeces, all shall speer theeward:” given Fn. 2, I think this incorporates the spear of the statue of Athena, at the center of the Parthenon. (See note to 594.21.) The sun gleaming off the spear’s gilded tip was a signal for mariners as far away as Sounion – a cynosure for travelers. (The “Mannequin” of Fn. 2, linked to “theeward,” need not be diminutive; the word can be used for any replica of the human form.) “Speer” echoes “spoor:” the travelers are sensing and following a trail or call. “Thee:” The/a: both Elpis and Athena were goddesses. 267.4: “thou fountain of the greeces, all shall speer theeward:” just to take the level down a notch: this links to Fn. 2, the Mannequin Pis (see McHugh), which is a fountain out of a pissing boy’s penis. (Genitally speaking, his female counterpart here is the urinating “pretty Proserpronette whose slit satchel spilleth peas” (.10-1).) 267.4: “fountain of the greeces:” common phrase: “fountain of grace:” can refer to God, devotion, the heart, etc. 267.6-7: “Ausonius Audacior and gael, gillie, gall:” Ausonius was a late-empire Roman poet and pedagogue of Gallic origins; hence “gall.” “Audacior:” Latin for more daring 267.8: “syung:” my notes say that “syung” = “sewing” in Albanian. Apart from fact that FW is often compared to sewing-work and that Issy is often a sewer, this fits the context: she ends each thread with a (“nots” (.9)) knot on the (“vestures” (.9)) vestment, and there’s a “glimpse from gladrags” (.10). In the “Sing a Song of Sixpence” nursery rhyme running through this passage, one additional verse has the maid’s pecked-off nose being sewn back on: “They sent for the king’s doctor / Who sewed it on again / He sewed it on so neatly / The seam was never seen.” 267.8-9: “endspeaking notes:” endnotes 267.10: “briefest:” briefs: drawers, women’s underwear 267.10: LM 1: goes with “glimpse from gladrags” (.10). “Cis:” “Sis,” short for “sister;” "Cis:" Latin “cicere,” chickpea: (cf. 11-2: “whose slit satchel spilleth peas:” “satchel” is the peas’ pod, as in Stephen’s “Eumaeus” translation of “Cicero” into “Podmore;” see note to 267.20-1, below.) 267.11: “whose slit satchel spilleth peas:” as first noted by Aida Yared, an allusion to the Grimm Brothers’ tale “The Blue Light.” A king whose daughter has been bewitched tells her: “Fill your pocket with peas, then make a small hole in your pocket. If you are carried away again, they will fall out and leave a track on the street.” The trick fails because her enchanter overhears and scatters peas everywhere, which the "poor children" gather from what they call the “night it rained peas.” 267.12-268.6: “Belisha…breed by:” the gist is that we are focusing in on Issy, in her lamplit upstairs window. 267.12-3: “Usherette, unmesh us!” Movie usherettes at the time (there’s an Edward Hopper painting (New York Movie) of one) carried flashlights to show patrons to their seats. See next entry. 267.13: “That grene ray:” The Green Ray, a Jules Verne novel about adventurers looking to observe the “green ray” which in some circumstances occurs just at sunrise or sunset. Also, A movie usherette’s flashlight could come in different colors. (I remember red, but not green.) 267.13: “waves:” light as waves 267.14: “red, blue and yellow:” the three primary colors 267.16: “where flash become word:” Vico: imitation of thunder (following flash of lightning) is the origin of language. 267.16-7: “Where flash becomes word and silent selfloud:” “selfloud:” Lucia Boldrini glosses this as German Selbstlaut, “vowel,” and draws attention to the a, e, i, o, u, and y included in “Uwayoei!” (.20) - all the vowels. Also, following the movie thread: introduction of sound (in 1927) into movies, previously a matter of “flashing” light. (Before “talkies,” there were “silents.”) 267.17-8: “To brace congeners, trebly bounden and asservaged twainly:” again, 2 and 3 in combination signify the twins. Usually, either number can go first. Here, it’s both ways: “brace” (2), “trebly” (3), “twainly” (2). 267.20-1: “So mag this sybilette be our shibboleth that we may syllable her well!:” to repeat my note from I.1, 21.18-9, etc.: the “peas” in this passage constitute a shibboleth. During the Sicilian Vespers of 1266, French occupiers who were unable to successfully pronounce “ciciri” (Sicilian dialect for “chickpea”) were killed. See also FW 354.14-15, 425.19. Proserpine, with her “satchel” of “peas,” has reintroduced the theme. The Proserpine and Pluto story (.9-10: see McHugh) is set in Sicily. 267.20: “sybilette:” young Sybil 267.22-4: “Vetus may be occluded behind the mou in Veto but Nova will be nearing as their radient among the Nereids:” Venus the planet may be blocked out by the moon. 267.23, 27: Oddly, the correspondence between LM notes and text here is in reversed order: LM 2 goes with “branches” in line 25; LM 3 goes with “Nova” in line 23. Connection in the latter is perhaps between “Nova” and “Unge:” new and young. I can’t see a direct connection between LM 2 and “branches,” but “Una Unica,” on the same line, would be the North Star, the “Sailor’s Only” guide, friend – something of that sort. The “pointers” of the Great Bear constellation are so called because they point to the North Star. May be relevant that in “Ithaca” the night sky is envisioned as a “heaventree.” 267.25: “Una Unica:” one one: 1 1. Paired verticals are always or almost always an Issy signature. Here, they signify Issy, in \her upstairs room, “under the branches of the elms” (.25-6) – the elm by her window. 267.25-6: “who, under the branches of the elms:” once again: Issy’s upstairs window is shaded, sometimes obscured, by an elm tree. (See 265.4-5 and note.) 267.28: “mistmusk:” the scent of the “rambler roses” (.29). Oxford editors have “mistymusky.” 267.29: “or ever:” ere ever. The theme here is a familiar one: beauty is transient, like the bloom of the rose, which soon will “have faded from the fleur” (268.1). 267.29: “the maybe mantles the meiblume:" “maybe” may be “May bee.” 267.29: “mantles:” in sense of: blushes deep red. Popular in romantic and erotic literature 268.4: LM 1 goes with “thinking all” (.4). 268.7: “jemmijohns:” James and John. Demi-Johns: two offspring/halves of one father named John (Joyce). Oxford editors have “jemmijohns,” bringing in the Gemini twins. 268.7: “cudgel:” phrase: “to cudgel one’s brains:” to think strenuously. Compare 223.25-6. Also, the twins, as rivals, will be cudgeling one another. 268.9: “divisional tables:” division tables of (“a rhythmatick” (.8)) arithmetic; the division between the two rivals 268.9-10: “of minions’ novence charily being cupid:” as her suitors, they are her minions, underlings. I suggest that “novence” echoes “notice,” which, despite her hard-to-get pose, she covets: “cupid” comes from Latin “cupidus,” meaning eagerly desirous. 268.10: LM 2 goes with “charily being cupid” (.10). 268.11: “mug’s wumping:” “mug” appears elsewhere in FW in the sense of loser, dupe. In American slang, to whump or whup someone is to give them a beating. Politically, American mugwumps were said to be pigheadedly indecisive, sitting with their mugs on one side of the fence and their wumps on the other. 268.11: “grooser’s:”grocer’s. Again, the Mullingar House was also a grocery store. Compare, for instance, 367.2. 268.15-6: “And a bodikin a boss in the Thimble Theatre:” “Bodikin” combines Gaelic bud, penis, with the suffix signifying either similarity or smallness. Relativistic gist: in the miniaturized thimble-world, even such a diminutive specimen will be the star attraction. Nora's first boyfriend was named Michael Bodkin, the origin of Michael Furey in "The Dead." 268.16: “inbourne:” within bounds 268.17: LM 3 goes with “gramma’s” (.17). 268.19: “spoken abad:” slandered 268.19: “moods:” in grammatical sense: verbal inflections 268.23: “interest:” in financial sense: it will pay dividends 268.25-6: “mind your genderous towards his reflexives such that I was to your grappa:” during courtship, mind that you’re not too generous with your (gender: sex) favors. Hey, it worked for me with your grandpa; in fact it's why you have a grandpa. (In the desolating words of the 1955 song "Love and Marriage," sung by, of all people, Frank Sinatra: "Love and marriage, love and marriage / Go together like a horse and carriage. / Dad was told by Mother / You can't have one without the other.") 268.26: LM 4 goes with “to your grappa” (.26). “As daff as you’re erse:" as crazy (daft) as you’re Irish (Erse), as deaf as your arse 268.27: “hedon:” hardon: erection. (Appears in “Circe.”) Also, hedonist: Joyce as grasshopper/Gracehoper 268.28-9: “what the lewdy saying, his analectual pygmyhop:” compared to him, an intellectual pygmy; what some people (see Joyce’s July 12, 1905 letter to Stanislaus: Selected Letters, p. 67.) said about Nora, as compared to her super-cerebral husband. (She was also his (“pygmyhop”) pickmeup: they met as strangers and she agreed on the spot to a date. Pretty much contradicts the advice she gave at .25-6.) “Analectual pygmyhop:” overtone of “Anna Livy Plurabelle.” In the accompanying Fn. 7, “A washable lovable floatable doll,” “doll” accords with “pygmy” and probably also carries sense of “living doll,” a highly attractive woman. (Compare 197.20 and note.) For “floatable,” see 210.23-4 and note. “Lewdy: in the sense of ignorant and crude (with an equal-opposite echo of “lady”): actually, they, not she, were the stupid ones, so there. 268.29: “comfortism:” conformism. OED dates the word from 1929. Fn. 3: “The law of the jungerl.” Link is to the rules of courtship, “the business each was bred to breed by” (.6), and it’s a jungle out there. “Jungerl:” aside from young girl, a young (male) churl – the latter is what you’ll wind up with, girl, if you “stray” (.3) from the straight and narrow. Fn. 4: “pullovers:” sweaters. Link is to Issy, knitting (.13-4). Fn. 5: “I’d like his pink’s cheek:” “I like your cheek!” - Victorian/Edwardian expression: a sarcastic rebuke to someone thought to have been impertinent. Linked to a lecture on proper forms for addressing someone (.22). Compare 185.11-2. See next entry. Fn. 6: “Frech:” in sense of “fresh” – i.e. too forward. Also, French men and women were proverbial for sexual forwardness. Link is to her lover as “hedon” ((.27) – see note.) The continuation berates her for the sin of running off with someone not her husband. 269.1-6: “often hate on first hearing comes of love by second sight…prude with prurial…prettydotes:” in (maybe) reverse, the story of Pride and Prejudice, followed by echoes of the title. (Also, “second sight” in sense of clairvoyance.) The whole run of marriage-market advice in these pages recalls W. H. Auden’s comment on Jane Austen vis-à-vis Joyce: You could not shock her more than she shocks me; Beside her Joyce seems innocent as grass. It makes me most uncomfortable to see An English spinster of the middle-class Describe the amorous effects of 'brass', Reveal so frankly and with such sobriety The economic basis of society. (W. H. Auden, Letter to Lord Byron) 269.2-11: “Have…sob:” gist: whatever his promises to the contrary, any man, young or old, chap or chaperone, will, like Peter Wright with Gladstone (see McHugh), inevitably spill the beans about anything scandalous you confide in him, and your reputation will suffer, and your marriage prospects with them, for at least half a year. 269.3-4: “dual in duel:” Beatrice and Benedict, Elizabeth and Darcy, etc.: a romcom feuding duo destined to become a couple 269.4: “prude with prurial:” the prudish with the prurient: opposites 269.5: “aoriest:” hoariest, in sense of oldest. Perhaps also hairiest – most wised-up – as in “Boylan is a hairy chap,” from “Cyclops” 269.8: “pale peterwright:” see McHugh. The Daily Mail’s coverage of the libel trial against Peter Wright recorded that he “paled at the verdict.” 269.8: “preterite:” aside from the grammatical sense, a preterite, in Calvinist theology, is someone who is not of the elect of God – that is, is damned from creation. 269.10-1: “the better half of a yearn or sob:” more than half a (bitter) year or so 269.10-1: “better half:” McHugh has “spouse;” I would add that the term was/is invariably applied to the wife, definitely not the husband. 269.11: "It’s a wild’s kitten:” (I am extending McHugh’s gloss): saying: “It’s a wise child that know its own father.” “Wild’s kitten:” a young wildcat 269.13-4: “predicable…accident:” two related terms in scholarly logic. One sense of the latter is: “to denote the fifth Predicable…as distinguished from the Genus, Differentia, Species, and Property.” (Source: Francis Garden, A Dictionary of English Philosophical Terms, p. 4.) Basic distinction is between essential and inessential, varieties of. 269.14: “you must have the proper sort of accident:” the proper sort of accent – as in Shaw’s Pygmalion. Still, compare 270.2-3 and note. 269.17: “Every letter is a godsend:” 1. tradition(s) of the divine origin of, among others, the Hebrew alphabet. (All four of the letters then listed (.17-9) are from divinities.) 2. Molly Bloom’s “I wish somebody would write me a loveletter.” All four of the divinities are male. See next entry. 269.18-9: “Zeus, the O’Meghisthest:” Omega, last letter of the Greek alphabet, as Z (“Zeus”) is of the Latin. Completes the alphabetical sequence begun at .17 with “Ares” 269.21: “thou arr, I am a quean:” I suggest that this extends the alphabet strain of .17-9: R, M, Q; perhaps also the OE thorn (th) and I. 269.21-2: “Is a game over? The game goes on:” considering “maid” of .23 and other card games in the vicinity, for instance (“beggar the maid” (.23) “Beggar My Neighbor”) – although we do get an egg and spoon race at .28 - the game in question is probably Old Maid. The whole point of this lesson is teaching Issy how not to be one. 269.22: LM 2 goes with “Cookcook!” (.22) 269.23-4: “The beggar the maid the bigger the mauler:” i.e., the more economically desperate the woman, the more liberties the man can take. A “mauler” is a physically overaggressive suitor. See next entry. 269.24-5: “And the greater the patrarc the griefer the pinch:” follows from the previous sentence: the more powerful the man, the more liberties he can take – not only pinching a woman against her will but pinching her hard. 269.26: “O love it is the commonknounest thing:” “love” is, in point of fact, a common noun. 269.27: “the plutous and the paupe:” besides (McHugh) plutocrat and pauper: Pluto, lord of the underworld, and pope – respectively, princes of darkness and of light. The linked footnote (Fn. 4) follows up: Women’s seductive “Wenchcraft” can prevail over both “Black and White.” 269.28: “egg she active or spoon she passive:” “egg:” as in, to egg on. “Spoon:” 20’s-30’s slang for sexual byplay: couple lies down, side by side, with contour of man’s front fitting with back side of woman, who may be said to adopt the “passive” position. 269.29: “all of them fine clauses in Lindley’s and Murrey’s:” in “Eumaeus,” Bloom remembers Molly’s ungrammatical “must have fell down” “with apologies to Lindley Murray.” The gist here (compare .14 and note, 270.3) is that L & M are arbiters of correct, polite conversation – in this case, necessary but not sufficient. 269.30-1: “participle of a present:” particle of a gift 269.30-1: “present…vindicatively I say it:” present indicative; “I say it” is an example. Fn. 1: From at least The Canterbury Tales, unwed women, especially older ones, have proverbially been fond of lapdogs. Hence the link with (“wallfloored”) wallflower, in sense of some unmatched party in a community of couples Fn. 2: “If she can’t follow suit Renee goes to the pack:" Renée: Queen, in pack of cards. There are of course a number of card games in which not being able to follow suit means drawing from the pack - i.e. one “goes to the pack.” Again (see 269.21-2 and note), Old Maid, played with a deck from which one of the queens has been removed, seems the likeliest here. “Renée” is probably a sideways pun on René Descartes – “des cartes,” of the cards. Also, “Goes to the pack:” goes to the dogs. (Digger Dialects (see 262.10 and note): deterioriates.) “Suit” also in sense of “suitor." If she doesn't eventually join up with one, she will wind up going to the dogs. Compare the truth-telling Clarissa in The Rape of the Lock: "She who scorns a man must die a maid." 270.1: “future:” her future husband 270.1 “Lumpsome:” Lovesome 270.2. “lumpsum:” a “lump sum:” a definite amount of money – here, contrasted with pretty words 270.3-4: “oblique orations:” 1. his misleading sweet-talk; 2. equally-oppositely, obligations 270.2-3: “Quantity counts though accents falter:” “Quantity” as opposed to “The Quality” – the upper crust. A vulgarian who keeps dropping his h’s is still worth considering for marriage if he has enough money. 270.4: “parsed:” pushed 270.4: LM 1: “I’ll go for that small polly if you’ll suck to your lebbensquatsch:” goes with “a brat, alanna” (.4). Seems to record conversation between a young male on the lookout for girls and what today would be called his wingman: I’ll go for that one while you stick to the other one and keep her occupied. “Polly:” according to Graham Greene’s Brighton Rock, “polony” – literally a small sausage - was seaside slang for a loose, lower-order young woman. “Suck to your lebbensquatsch:” telling someone to "go suck a lemon” is roughly the equivalent of “Buzz off.” 270.5: “he:” any one of the he’s, however bratty, who get their pick of the girls. (Or women) 270.6: “pipe clerk:” official title of a job in the waterworks. Prospects-wise, not much of a catch, but, alas, given how the deck is stacked, even his advances must be considered. 270.7: “that perfect little cad:” compare 143.35. Highly sarcastic, with an air of offended eminence. Still, see previous entry: lowlife or not, even he has to be taken seriously as a suitor too. 270.7-11: “from the languors and weakness of limberlimbed lassitude till the head, back and heartaches of waxedup womanage:” as, from one end of a sequence to another – here, from a woman’s youth to old age 270.8: “lassihood:” state of being a lass, a young woman 270.10: “head, back and heartaches:” i.e. headaches, back aches, heart aches – signs of age, at the other end of the continuum from (.8) limber lasses: the “brat” (.4) can have his pick of either end, or anything between. 270.11-4: “Note the Respectable Irish Distressed Ladies and the Merry Mustard Frothblowers of Humphreystown Associations:” gist: old unmarried women have it worse than their male counterparts: the former are objects of charity while the latter get together to drink, blowing the froth off their mugs of beer – something, since froth if left alone will settle down into perfectly good beer, you wouldn’t do if you were much worried about the cost. (No idea how “Mustard” figures in (perhaps - long shot - by way of beer - German - German sausage - mustard?) 270.15: “hist subtaile of schlangder:” “schlong” = slang for penis. (Also spelled “shlong.”) “Hist:” hissed, by a (penis-like) snake. Compare .17-8 and note. 270:16: “tease oreilles:” given context, “Tess O’Reilly” seems likelier than Persse. 270.16: “vert embowed:” scrambled “verboten?” Would fit the context 270.17-8: “But learn from that ancient tongue to be middle old modern to the minute. A spitter that can be relied on:” more coinciding contraries: “the ancient tongue” is the Edenic snake’s forked tongue; some snakes proverbially spit venom; still, Jesus did tell his disciples to be “as wise as serpents.” 270.18: “middle old modern:” m. o. m. Paradoxically, Mom’s “ancient tongue” is advising that to catch a man, a girl has to be “modern” (a word with special oomph in the 20’s and 30’s), though perhaps only middlingly so. 270.20: “Wonderlawn’s:” Alice Liddell’s middle name was “Pleasance;” a pleasance is a lawn. See notes for .21, .21-2, and .22. 270.20-1: “Alis, alas, she broke the glass!:” “Amo, Amas, I Love a Lass:” song by John O’Keefe which, as in these pages, includes a love song in the form of a language lesson. 270.21: “broke the glass!:” broke the mirror – seven years’ bad luck. As a Leap Year girl (born on February 29 – a conceit Joyce probably got from The Pirates of Penzance) Issy is either 28, 29, or 30 years old (on March 21, 1938, Lucia was 30) or seven. Alice is exactly seven years old in Wonderland, exactly seven and a half in Looking-Glass. See next entry. 270.21-2: “Liddell lokker through the leafery:” combines the rabbit hole of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, which is under a “hedge,” with the looking-glass of Through the Looking-Glass. Compare the “grass”/glass (the latter by way of Gaelic’s “l-r interchange”) through which “We pass,” of the end (628.12). 270.22: “mistery of pain:” misty mystery; also pain induced by men - “mister”s – in a man’s world. Also, Carroll’s Alice, about to go through the looking glass: “Why, it’s turning into a sort of mist now, I declare!” (from Through the Looking Glass.) Earlier, I.2 has ended with sound of glass crashing, followed by “freakfog” (48.2) of I.3 – caused, I believe, by fog rolling in through a broken window. 270.22: “ours is mistery of pain:” the pain of childbirth to which women are condemned in Genesis, but maybe also a getting-even infliction of pain on men, as Mistress-of-Pain dominatrix. 270.25: LM 2, “O’ Mara Farrell’s,” goes with “virgil page” (.25). “O’Mara” = “Omera,” Italian for Homer. O Hehir also suggests Omar, and adds, “Farrell:" "Fearghail Mod. I. = Fergil O.I. = Vergilios Celt. = Vegilius L,” and “Vergil’s birthplace, Mantua, was in Gallia Transpadana, his origin Celtic.” 270.22-5: “You may spin on youthlit’s bike and multiplease your Mike and Nike with your kickshoes on the algebrars but, volve the virgil page and view...:” with her shoes on the handlebars and the wind blowing up her skirts, her virgin vulva would be on view, thus mightily pleasing Mike and Nick. (In Ulysses, both Gerty and Molly remember such shocking spectacles.) Also, virgin page: a blank sheet. More generally, giving in to her suitors – pleasing them in multiple ways – would, as the speaker goes on to point out, leave her sorry in the long run: see next two entries. 270.25-6: “volve the virgil page and view, the O of woman is long:” Sortes Virgilianae was practiced as prophecy; in this case, it tells her that she is destined or doomed to live for a long time. If the “o” in “woman” is long (O Hehir: “assertion that the first syllable of ‘woman’ should scan as long”), the word should be pronounced woe-man, inviting the ancient joke that woman is so named because she brought woe to man. (It won’t be all that great for her, either.) Also, see next entry. 270.25-7: “the O of woman is long when burly those two muters sequent her.” In addition to warning about male inconstancy, this also reminds her that women live longer than men, so that she’d better feather her nest while she can. In “Nausicaa,” Bloom reflects that ”widower” is the derivative of “widow” – a rare case where the female form is primary, and there's a reason for that. Compare 79.33 and note, 272.5 and note. 270.25: “O:” as at 196.1, graphic representation of vagina 270.26: “muters:” as in “mutable.” Maybe also “mutes?” 270.27: “Nebob:” nabob: an Englishman who had grown rich in India and returned home; generally associated with vulgar ostentation. Another case (see .2-3) of “Quantity” winning out over “Quality” in the marriage market 270.27: LM 3 goes with “stray who” (.28). 270.29: RM 1: cued to Roman history (.29-271.6) a catalogue of, predominantly, stern Roman virtues. I suggest that the three sets of three correspond to three successive phases in the main text: “COURAGE, COUNSEL, AND CONSTANCY” as military virtues needed for the (“puny wars” (.30)) Punic Wars, “OMEN, ONUS AND OBIT” for (“Jeallyous Seizer” (271.3)) Julius Caesar and perhaps his assassins as well; “DISTRIBUTION OF DANGER, DUTY AND DESTINY” to (“the tryonforit of Oxthievious, Lapidous and Malthouse Anthem” (270.5-6)), the Second Triumvirate. 270.30: LM 4 – first line, “Ulstria,” goes with “The O’Brien” (.31). 270.30-271.3: “ya, ya…ga, ga…da, da:” at least the first and third of these pairings mean the equivalent of “aye aye” (and there’s a sir, a “Sire,” at 271.3: Aye aye, sir), that is, I I, invariably or (just to be safe) almost invariably, in one of many permutations (two l’s, two 1’s, two i’s, two eyes, two eyes as dots, two dots as Morse code, two verticals as a pair of female legs (sometimes, as in 271 LM 2, wearing “hosies,” stockings), as the uprights of a ladder, etc.) the signature for Issy, here addressed as a “duo of druidesses” (271.4). Note that the sentence begins/ends with “one:” “One hath just been areading, hath not one” (270.28). Fn. 2: “He’s just bug nuts on white mate he hasn’t the teath nor the grits to choo and that’s what’s wrong with Lang Wang Wurm, old worbbling goesbelly.” See .15 and note: the link is to “schlangder.” He lusts after the white meat of young damsels but like an antiquated toothless terror he can’t even chew it properly. (Perhaps alludes to Wyndham Lewis’s short story “Cantleman’s Spring Meat,” whose title shows up elsewhere in FW: Cantleman’s sexual relations with a young woman are described as a “devouring” that parallels what the story represents as the cannibalistic sexuality of nature.) When “white meat” is “white mate,” he’s an aged plutocrat who can’t perform sexually with his young, bought bride. (A comedy standard – in FW, most prominent in the Peaches and Daddy Browning story of I.3.) “Grits:” “grit” at the time was the American equivalent of “sand:” toughness over the long haul. Also: in America, “grits” are a kind of porridge – something that wouldn’t require teeth to consume. Calling him a “Wurm” obviously undermines his phallic snakiness; his “worbbling goesbelly” indicates not only that he is unsteady on his pins but that in fact those pins have (like Joyce’s teeth, the last one pulled when he was forty-one) been removed, so that like the serpent in Genesis he must now creep on his belly, even that he is now reduced to penitently warbling gospels in some uplifting choir as the final humiliation. (Also, geese wobble when they walk.) Also, “white mate”/white meat: the white female sexual partner of a black man, here by way the link to – again - “schlangder,” schlong, in turn traceable to the venerable tradition of African ithyphallicism: compare, for instance, 236.15-6. Fn. 3: “Dear and I trust in all frivolity I may be pardoned for trespassing but I think I may add hell:” I’m not sure just when it happened, but Issy is clearly back on the scene. Linked to “ours is mistery of pain” (.22), her note, based on what she’s just learned, is giving an amen to main text’s assertion that woman’s life is miserable – is hell. Fn. 4: As link to “Nebob,” This would go with Nemo as Odysseus’ Noman: “all menkind of every desception,” by deception he managed to get away in the guise of nobody. 271.1: LM 1, continuing from 270, LM 4, goes with “The O’Connor” (.1). “Monastir:” Mona = Isle of Man. According to Brendan O Hehir, the O’Briens, the O’Connors, and the MacLoughins have “nominal” claims to the kingships of Munster, Connacht, and Ulster respectively; “MacConmara inaugurated Ó Briaian kings but has no separate claim to kingship stalk.” 271.3: “Sire Jeallyous Seizer:” nothing that I’ve been able to find about Sir Julius Caesar (see Glasheen) seems to suggest exceptional jealousy or rapacity – although, to be sure, he was awfully good at working the court for advancement. (The Roman original, of course, was an expert at seizing - Gaul, for example.) Also, apparently unlike all other members of the catalogue here, he seems to have had nothing to do with Ireland. Maybe “Sire” here is just the customary term of honor applied to male heads of state. 271.4: LM 2, “Cliopatria, thy hosies history:” goes with “his duo of druidesses” (.4). “Druidesses” are Cleopatra and Octavia, Caesar’s exotic mistress and his homebody above-suspicion wife - perhaps, via “-patria,” homeland, both incorporated in “Cliopatria.” Again, the “hosies” are her/their pair(s) of stockings, legs included, here – as often in FW – provoking the male. 271.4-5: “ready money rompers:” a popular tongue-twister: “rubber buggy bumpers.” Also: “rompers:” OED: “a fashionable, loose-fitting woman's garment combining esp. a short-sleeved or sleeveless top and wide-legged shorts.” Bought with “ready money” – i.e. from customers well-off enough that can pay the full value at once. May be relevant that “rompers” were originally children’s outfits. 271.5: “tryonforit:” given “rompers,” may include sense of “try on for fit.” (Occurs in this sense in “Oxen of the Sun:” “Just you try it on.”) Figuratively, “try it on for size” means to measure your own accomplishments or character against those of some heroic figure. Also, of course, “triumph:” celebratory Roman processions given to conquering generals, who were frequently also (tyron) tyrants. 271.7: “Suetonia:” name of Roman virgin, a convert to Christianity 271.8: “reflections:” as in a mirror/looking-glass: see next item, .10 and .11 and notes, 270.20-2 and notes. 271.10: “caudle:” as McHugh says, “a warm drink,” therefore traditionally taken as a nightcap. (Hence “caudle lectures,” bedtime lectures: see Ulysses 9.238 and Gifford annotation.) The general sense seems to be of a once-comely woman, either aged or infirm, looking into her candle-lit mirror before bed, a caudle in her hand. Overtones of Snow White’s magic mirror: you are no longer the fairest of them all. See next two entries. 271.10: “holds her candle:” expression: “doesn’t hold a candle to:” is not nearly the equal of; see .5 and note. 271.11: “lone lefthand likeless:” image (likeness) in mirror, if held with right hand. Also, something “left-handed” may be clumsy or spurious; implication is that the reflection doesn’t do her justice. Issy’s mirror companion is Marge, her presumed inferior, sometimes opposite (see next entry), and dark double – the (.11-2) “sombring Autum of your Spring.” (“Sombring:” it gets darker in the Autumn.) 271.12: “Autum:” Latin autem: on the contrary 271.12-4: “reck you not one spirt of anyseed whether trigemelimen cuddle his coddle or nope:” more worldly-wise advice: don’t get all upset over whether your man has a squeeze (“cuddle”) on the side. (On the other hand, "spirt of anyseed" - semen - tells another story.) 271.12: “spirt of anyseed:” ejaculation 271.17-8: “Gruff Gunne may blow, Gam Gonna flow:” “Can’t Help Lovin’ That Man,” from Jerome Kern’s and Oscar Hammerstein’s Showboat: “Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly.” The play’s signature song, “Old Man River,” appears at 363.10-1. Also, the parents: gruff father will blow up (with anger), mother will flow with tears 271.19-21: “From the butts of Heber and Heremon, nolens volens, brood our pansies, brune in brume:” fragment of Quinet sentence - given in full at 281.7-13 – usually signals a tempus fugit theme 271.21: LM 3 goes with “nolens volens” (.20). 271.21-22: “There’s a split in the infinitive from to have to have been to will be:” “split infinitive” (McHugh) followed by an egregious example, “to will be” 271.23: “big innings:” a cricket “innings” in which many points have been scored 271.26: LM 4 goes with “glider” (.26). See next entry. 271.26: “glider:” porch swing, sometimes associated with summer courtships 271.29: “Gough:" God 271.29: “hiss:” sound of snake in garden 271.29-272.1: “we’re wizening:” getting older, getting wiser. Expression: “older but wiser” Fn. 1: “All his teeths back to the front:” linked to “torskmester” (.4), tusk-master. (Compare “Tusker Boyle” in Portrait, chapter one.) Elephants have tusks, which can curve around back-to-front; at 245.1 the zoo’s elephant is relaxing after “tusker toils.” Also, as stern military taskmaster, Julius Caesar – this time, the Roman, not the Englishman - is ordering his weary troops “back to [the] front.” In this second version, the story of Cadmus sowing dragon's teeth to make soldiers is probably in play. Fn. 2: “Skip one, flop fore, jennies in the cabbage store:” as McHugh notes, a nursery rhyme. Commonly used in children’s “clapping games,” here it links to two girls in “rompers” (.5), presumably for an accompanying skipping game. Fn. 3: “cumpohlstery English:” English was compulsory for Ireland through much of British rule. “Upholstered” English would be excessively high-toned, lah-dee-dah variety. Link is with “Suetonia,” a recondite classical allusion which the footnoter may see as pretentious. Fn. 5: “Tho’ I have one just like that to home, deadleaf brown with quicksilver appliques, would whollymost applissiate a nice shiny sleekysilk out of that slippering snake charmeuse:” linked to sentence about a phallic serpent in Eden. As elsewhere, snake reduced to (silk)worm, yielding “sleekysilk” for her new dress. Compare ALP’s dress in I.8: “a period gown of changeable jade that would robe [rob] the wood of two cardinals’ chairs,” that is, the leaves of two trees (200.2-3) - here as there, the dress is apparently green, as if made out of (.27) “leaves,” this time from the tree in the “garden Gough gave,” both India (see McHugh), with its un-Irish abundance of snakes, and God. (“Applisiate” includes “apple.”) Snakes shed their skins, which in time go (“deadleaf brown”) from shiny to brown. (Also, a possible memory of Lucia’s 1929 performance in what Richard Ellmann describes as “a shimmering silver fish costume she had designed herself.”) 272.1: “Hoots fromm:” “Hoots mon!:” stage-Scottish idiom; means something like “hey, man!” – or, more simply, just an expression of surprise or alarm 272.1: “globing:” getting fatter with age; becoming more visibly pregnant. See next two entries. 272.1-2: “Why hidest thou hinder thy husband his name?:” generally, a visibly pregnant woman would want it to be known that she had a husband. (Compare next entry.) “Husband his:” archaic form of “husband’s” 272.2-5: “Leda, Lada, aflutter-afraida, so does your girdle grow!:” compare Yeats’ “Leda and the Swan:” because her offspring by Zeus led to the Trojan War among other momentous events, Leda’s impregnation is something of a pagan parallel to (as in another Yeats’ poem, “The Mother of God”) Mary’s. 272.5: “Pappapassos, Mammamanet:” again, in the order of things, Papa may pass away – either abscond or die – but Mama remains. 272.6: “whowitswhy: “Who knows why? 272.7-8: “tails for toughs:” nursery rhyme: little boys are made of “snips and snails and puppy-dog’s tails.” 272.8: LM 1 goes with “deeleet” (.8). Oxford editors have “deleet.” (Note: their version also cancels the next paragraph break and the next six words (“Dark ages clasp the daisy roots”): maybe this was an authorial directive to “delete.”) 272.10-2: “a sally of the allies, hot off Minnowaurs and naval actiums…banks of rowers:” the last verse of the 1916 song “Sally in Our Alley” includes the lines “And, but for her, I’d better be / A slave and row a galley.” (The Battle of Actium was fought with war galleys, manned by rowers.) 272.11: “naval actiums, picked engagements:” naval actions, pitched engagements: language of warfare 272.12-3: “Please stop if you’re a B.C. minding missy:” mind your own (“B.C.”) business; go away if you can’t 272.12-3: “a B.C minded…A.D.:” goes with musical notes (B, C, A, D) in LM 2. See note to 271.13. Woman addressed here – a type of Issy – was previously A-B-C-minded, that is, simple. 272.16: “holy Janus:” Jesus (colloquial Irish pronunciation: Jaysus) is also Janus because his arrival – B.C. to A.D. – is history’s major threshold. 272.17-8: “Here, Hengegst and Horsesauce, take your heads out of that taletub!:” Oxford editors have “Hengegst.” Repeats story of sultan immersing his head in tub of water; first appears at 4.24. (See note.) Here as there – and see previous entry - signals transition to a new age. 272.20-1: “Whoan, tug, trace, stirrup!:” 1. Signals of horse-rider coming to halt: “Whoa!” Tug at reins. Horse’s “traces” are detached. Rider dismounts via stirrup. 2. Hypnotist bringing subject out of trance: One, two, three, wake up! 272.21: LM 3 goes with “that, sense” (.21-2). 272.22-3: “threehandshighs put your twofootlarge:” 3-2: twins signature. Three hands, conventionally, would equal a foot. 272.23: “timepates:” pates = heads 272.24: “Murph:” Morpheus. (In “Eumaeus,” “arms of Morpheus” becomes “arms of Murphy.”) Oxford editors have “Murph it is and.” 272.28: “Foamous homely brew:” refers to (.27) “Ghinis” - Guinness 272.29: LM 4 goes with “Bull igien bear” (.29). “Atthems:” Athens 272.29: “Bull igien bear:” “bullgine:” ship's steam-engine. Occurs in “Oxen of the Sun” 272.31: “Staffs varsus herds:” stacks/sticks knocking (hard) heads; shepherds versus cattlemen; perhaps also shepherds vs. sheep. “Varsus:” Varsity 272.31: “bucks vursus barks:” deer vs. dogs, presumably in hunt. “Vursus” perhaps includes “ursus,” bear, which would bring a bear-baiting into the frame. Fn. 3: “Lethemuse:” Lethe is the underworld river of forgetfulness. As in the linked story incorporated in .17-8, the “taletub” has induced amnesia. (Again, see note to 4.21-4.) Fn. 4: “shessock:” O Hehir says this is Gaelic for “truce” or armistice. I suggest that “stimmstammer,”in the same line, traces in part to “Waffenstillstand” (588.5), German for the Armistice of 1918. Along with “shellshock,” this note, linked to the “guegerre” of .29, clearly has to do with WW I. It appears in a section, presumably initiated at line .13, launching us into postwar developments - the League of Nations (273.5) for instance. The historical hinge of these lines – B.C to A.D. – at times seems to include 1918 as well. 273: LM 1 “bosthoon:” Irish “bostoon,” boor. Also, considering the letter theme, probably Boston. “Femilies hug bank!:” Females, hang back! Oxford editors have “Femmilies,” which would combine females with families. 273.1-2: “Bumps, bellows and bawls:” summary of battle 273.4. “Heil:” given the way things are going, I think this is the Nazi salute. The post-WW I future is not as rosy as some suppose. (The Joyce of the FW years seems always to have known this.) The first publication of this passage was in 1934, a year after Hitler came to power. 273.4: “Heil, heptarched span of peace!:” the Heptarchy: the union of seven Anglo-Saxon kingdoms from the fifth to the tenth century. Given Wilsonian/American element in this passage (e.g. “league of lex”), perhaps also a skeptical glance at Emerson’s poem about “the rude bridge that arched the flood,” where was fired “the shot heard round the world.” (See 403.6 and note.) Chapelizod has what is sometimes called a “three-arched bridge:” flat on the road surface, supported by three arches. (There are several seven-arched bridges in existence; probably the likeliest to be pertinent was built in1892 in Newport, County Mayo.) 273.4-5: “heptarched span of peace!” List just given (“Rents…spends”) had seven items, all of them having to do with finance. Although the British Museum notes show no direct connection, this very likely goes with LM 2 “Femilies hug bank” – “bank” in the money-storing sense. Again, this sequence is thick with post-W W I material, including the stock-market money madness of the 1920’s. 273.6-7: “Impovernment of the booble by the bauble for the bubble: “in the name of improvement, government is impoverishing fools with worthless items (baubles) and unsound policies (financial bubbles). 273.7: “booble:” common people as boobs; in 1922 H.L. Mencken coined the term “booboosie.” 273.7-8: “So wrap up your worries in your woe:” given context, it’s worth noting here that the 1915 song “Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag,” was, after “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary” (with which it shared essentially the same melody), the second most popular marching song among the Tommies of WW I. Promoted to boost troop morale, its chorus was “And smile, smile, smile.” 273.8: LM 3 goes with “worries in your woe” (.8). “Cowdung forks:” Common folk; dungfork. “Old Kine’s:” Old cow; perhaps also allusion to “Silk of the Kine,” Ireland’s Poor Old Woman, who in “Circe” tells Stephen to kill himself for her sake; type of Kate, the scavenger, earlier identified with the old women who scavenged the bodies of the fallen after Battle of Waterloo; “Old Kine’s Meat Meal,” a "pick of the basketfild,” intimates that the scavenging included cannibalism, meat - not loaves and fishes, which filled the “baskets” at Jesus’ command - picked out of the collection baskets, meat meals being rare among the lower orders well through the 19th century; “Old Kine’s” initials are American expression “OK.” 273.8-9: “(wumpumtum!):" musical accompaniment to song (.7-8) “Pack up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag.” Also, wampum - money 273.10-1: “one mere ope for downfall ned:” given McHugh identification of “mere ope” as Merope, mother of Daedalus, “downfall ned” is presumably Icarus. Also, “Ned” is slang, current in Joyce’s time, for a Scottish hooligan. 273.12: “nievre anore:” evermore; nevermore 273.12: “skidoos:” “Twenty-three skidoo:” popular American expression of the 1920’s; usually means to exit promptly, make a getaway 273.13: “hugh and guy:” hue and cry; you and I 273.14-5: “dimpled and pimpled and simpled and wimpled:” “simpled?” Not sure. Otherwise: child, adolescent, nun 273.15: “poke:” sack 273.16: “She wins them by wons:” “by ones:” one at a time, person to person, not as a group or category. Compare Auden’s “Homage to Clio:” “but we, at haphazard / And unseasonably, are brought face to face / By ones, Clio, with your silence.” 273.17: “hectoendecate:” given context, probably overtone of Hecate, with her (“mumbo jumbjubes” (.17)) witchy mumbo-jumbo 273.17: “mangay:” given “mutts” in the next line, this probably includes “mangy.” 273.18: “Tak mutts:” “Thanks much:” a slangy American expression, sometimes ironic, for “Many thanks,” dating from 1922 and still around. In the same vein as “muchas…gracies” (.18-9) 273.19: LM 3 goes with “what a loovely freespeech” (.19-20). 273.20, 21 (“tep):” “Tip:” Kate signature. In Fn. 7, linked to “tep,” "My six is no secret” reinforces her witchiness: six is the hex number. (See first note to .17.) 273.23: “Blusterboss, blowharding about all he didn’t do:” in other words, a Miles Gloriosus 273.24-5: “Hell o’ your troop!:” Holy Troop: Patrick’s followers. See 223.11 and note. 273.25-6: “With the winker for the muckwits of willesly:” the Duke of Wellington, brother of the ("muckwits") Marquis, once remarked that being born in Ireland no more made him Irish than being born in a stable would have made him a horse. Joyce gets revenge for this crack in I.1 by making him a “harse,” and here his brother is outfitted with a hack's blinkers. (He or perhaps another horse is a purblind or poor blind (“poorblond”) “hoerse” at .27-8.) 273.25: “muckwits:” “mucksweat:” occurs in “Circe.” Originally from Goldsmith’s The Vicar of Wakefield 273.27: “poorblond piebold:” purblind piebald 273.28-274.1: “hauberkhelm:” a hauberk is a shirt or suit of armor, so this is presumably the helmet worn with armor – or just a comical hat on a comical (“Huirse” (.28)) horse. Fn. 2: “I’m blest if I can see:” linked to “Heptarched span of peace” (.4-5), the seven-colored rainbow. Glaucoma's onset is typically rainbow-like; when Joyce, in Zurich, started seeing rainbow colors, he knew at once that he was a victim. FW repeatedly associates rainbows with blindness. “Blessed” also in French sense: blessé: wounded Fn. 6: “Well, Maggy, I got your castoff devils all right and fits lovely.” Compare 459.14-6: as servant, Maggy breaks in her shoes for her. Link is to battlefield spoils (.16-9), which apparently includes shoes as well as hats and gloves. Fn. 8: “Yes, there, Tad, thanks:” link is to “crocodile” (.22) directing bird where to peck; like someone getting their back scratched. (See .21-2 and McHugh’s note.) 274.1: LM 1 goes with “For the man that broke” (.1-2). 274.2: “broke the ranks:” French soldiers broke ranks at Waterloo. 274.2: “Sinjon:” common English pronunciation of “Saint John” as a man’s first or middle name 274.5-6: LM 2 goes with “the Five Positions” (.5-6). “Pas d’action” is a ballet term for a scene in which a story is told through expressive movements. Also, ballet has five “positions” for the feet, called, simply, first, second, third, fourth, and fifth. (My thanks to Stephen Sas for this information.) (N.B.: Until page 304, this is the last of the LM notes which can definitely be shown to go with a certain place in the main text.) 274.6: “death ray:” imaginary “miracle weapon” predicted in popular science and science fiction publications of twenties and thirties 274.7: “reproaches:” reports reproachfully, re-preaches (as at .11) 274.7, 11: “reproaches Paulus,” “repreaches Timothy:” Paul and Timothy were partners in preaching. 274.8: “Dunderhead:” thunderhead: a dark cumulus cloud portending a thunderstorm 274.9-10: “Hannibal mac Hamilton the Hegerite:” if I understand the Oxford editors (it is not clear to me whether their version is meant to supplement or replace the present text), the correct passage should be “Hamilcar is chasing Kate O’Carthydge around the Capuawalls. Hibraham the Hegerite…” “O’Carthydge,” of course, would be an Irishing of Carthage, “Kate O’Carthydge” an ironic inclusion of Cato, who demanded that Carthage be destroyed. 274.9: “shiver his timbers:” note McHugh’s correction: Fn. 1, “Go up quick, stay so long, come down slow,” is linked to this, not to “hobnobs.” Thus realigned, it clearly refers to Solness’ ascent of the tower in The Master Builder. (I wonder about the other three footnotes on this page as well; Fn. 2 seems right for “hobnobs,” not “Hegerite.”) “Shiver my timbers!:” Long John Silver in Treasure Island 274.10: “elbow him!:” “elbow” is an anagram of “below,” and he is on a height. 274.11: “ministerbuilding:” Oxford editors have “minsterbuilding.” See .9 and note: Halvard Solness has been a builder of churches, i.e. minsters. 274.11-2: “Timothy, in Saint Barmabrac’s:” Oxford editors delete “in.” Saint Timothy and Saint Barnabas were both closes allies of Saint Paul. 274.12-3: “Number Thirty two West Eleventh streak looks on:” the address locates this in Greenwich Village, New York’s traditional center of bohemia. Perhaps “looks on” because of the city’s preponderance of multistory apartment buildings: most Manhattan residents “look on,” and down on, something – here, a tree. 274.14: “sempereternal:” sempiternal 274.15-7: “datetree doloriferous which more and over leafeth earlier than every growth:” date tree/palm tree: “Phoenix dactilifera.” Also, counterpoised overtones of “deciduous” and “evergreen.” In point of fact, palm trees are not deciduous and are, obviously, unlikely to flourish in lower Manhattan. (Joyce’s handling of New York material is often capricious.) 274.17: “elfshot:” see McHugh. According to a source in The English Dialect Dictionary, one symptom is that cattle become suddenly “excited.” Would seem to fit the account that follows: “with frayed nerves wondering” (.17-8). 274.17: “headawag:” head awag, that is, wagging 274.20-1: “the howmanyeth and howmovingth time:” as Stephen says in Portrait, chapter five, “Yet another removal!” Whether as child, grown man, or family man, Joyce was incessantly moving from one residence to another. 274.23: “sparksown fermament:” the syntax of this sentence (.12-27) is exceptionally baffling. I suggest that the starry, spark-sown firmament is what they can look up at from their apartment’s “windstill” (.25), when they’re not looking down at the tree. (Did Joyce know that in Manhattan you can never or almost never see the stars? According to “Ithaca” you can, from midtown Dublin, at least from a back garden.) 274.28: “whereaballoons:” whereabouts 274.28-9: “for good vaunty years:” for a good twenty years 274.30: “prepping up:” preparing, in sense of preparing for an exam. Also, Clongowes (.29: see McHugh) is what Americans call a prep school. 274.30: “prepueratory:” “puerperal:” after childbirth. Pre-puerpal, before the afterwards, would then be during. See next entry. 274.31-2: “put a broad face bronzily through a broken breached meataerial:” childbirth, head first; “breech birth” means the opposite. 275.3-4: RM 1: “CENOGENETIC:” OED: “kenogenesis:” “Haeckel’s term for the form of ontogenesis in which the true hereditary development of a germ is modified by features derived from its environment (opposed to palingenesis).” Ernst Haeckel promoted Darwinian recapitulation theory (“ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny”), widely believed in Joyce’s time and an important premise of Ulysses’ “Oxen of the Sun.” (Also, I think, of FW, especially in this chapter: for a review of the background, see my Physiology and the Literary Imagination, pages 149-51.) Compare to this, excerpted in Joyce's Notebook VI.B.32.140 from Sir Richard Paget's Babel, or the Past, Present, and Future of Human Speech: "It is stated that the normal development of a human being recapitulates, to some extent, the evolution of the human race." Here, the theory seems to double with something like Lamarckian embryology: the twins are different because of some external occurrence or influence in the womb. (After all, they did wrestle there. In Ulysses, Bloom wonders whether his son Rudy died shortly after childbirth because of the external circumstances of his conception, and in the same vein speculates that Milly is blonde because Molly was thinking of his predecessor, the blonde Mulvey, when Milly was conceived. Also, compare Tristram Shandy, literally misbegotten due to his mother’s other-mindedness during coition.) The whole of RM 1 proposes that the family’s brother-battles were “CENOGENETIC” in origin but later resolved through dialectic (“DIAGONISTIC CONCILIATION”), allowing the (“DYNASTIC”) dynasty to continue on, more or less peacefully. The scene being commented on is of an elderly couple contentedly reminiscing about some of the family divisions and difficulties now past, including (“crime and fable” (.20)), Cain and Able. 275.4-5 “Pacata Auburnia:” Echo of Doughty’s In Arabia Deserta – reinforced by “camel” in “gammel,” “untillably” (much of Ireland and almost all of Arabia is subnormal as farmland), and the link to Fn. 2, where Issy reports that, because she was looking for her missing shoe, her mind wandered during the part of the geography lesson devoted to Arabia. Also, “Auburnia:” Hibernia 275.7-9: "(if you've got me, neighbour, in any large lumps, geek? and got the strong of it):" Digger Dialects (see note to 262.10): if you've understood me, and now have enough information to make the right decision. 275.8-9: “topiocal sagon hero:” I can’t say exactly how, but sago and tapioca are apparently interchangeable in lots of Eastern recipes. 275.9-10: “signs is on:” “Signs on” appears in “Circe;” Gifford glosses as “bad luck to” 275.11-15: “silvering…quicken boughs:” see following notes to .11, .12, .13, .15, and .23. Compare Gerard Manley Hopkins, “The Starlight Night.” The silver birch and quicken (a.k.a. rowan, mountain ash, quickbeam) both have thin trunks, slender branches, and a voluminous canopy of leaves, making for dramatic effects in windy weather. (According to both Oxford editors and McHugh, “and his whitehatched patch, the towelturbaned and Flower, a” should be inserted after “fullness, and” (.11.)) 275.11: “silvering…birchleaves:” silver birch 275.11: “silvering to her jubilee:” Victoria’s Silver Jubilee was in 1862. (Not likely to have been all that jubilant, since Albert had died late in 1861.) Whether of marriage or other anniversary, (or, of course, as hair) silver connotes longevity. Fn. 3, linked to “jubilee,” comments on the appearance of an older woman. Also, see note to .24, below, and Fn. 5, where “boyjones” is another Victoria cue. 275.12: “lavy in waving:” a tree’s leaves waving in the wind. (Also, Liffey waves, similarly stirred by the wind.) 275.13: “Airyanna and Blowyhart topsirturvy:” The wind (airy Anna, in motion) is blowing his topper hat topsy-turvy. Also, the Joyces, like the Blooms, sometimes slept head-to-foot. 275.15: “quicken boughs:” OED: a quicken bow is “a branch of a rowan tree, traditionally thought to ward off evil spirits and protect against enchantment.” According to the same entry, a quicken bough would serve “as protective talisman at the door-post.” 275.17: “17:69:” unclear what it’s doing here, but 1769, when both Wellington and Napoleon were born, is a talismanic FW date. Also, a four-digit telephone number. Four numbers were adequate in 1904 Dublin for Bloom’s “Aeolus” phone call, but, whatever FW’s default date (definitely post-1904), I find it somewhat surprising that it still suffices. In many places, seven-digit numbers had become standard by the mid-thirties. (Also see 501.8-9, with McHugh’s notes.) 275.17-8: “his seaarm:" “arms of the sea:” incursions of the ocean into land. Occurs in “Ithaca” 275.19: “discusst:” includes “cussed,” i.e. “cursed.” Compare “seedy cuss” in “Oxen of the Sun.” 275.24: “tales all tolled:” Compare Dorothy Sayers’s The Nine Tailors. A “tale” is "tolled" when someone dies, nine tales or “tailors” for a man; hence the common expression “nine tailors make a man,” which figures elsewhere in FW, especially in the next chapter; “thine” in the next line may be an echo of “nine.” 275.26. “cowly head:” head of a child born with a caul. Occurs elsewhere in FW: 254.19, 578.10. Among other properties, cauls are supposed to protect against drowning. And, of course, a “cowl” is a monk’s hood; occurs in this sense in Portrait, chapter five. 275.26-7: “press his crankly hat:” have never heard of a hat, however crinkled, being ironed, but that’s apparently the idea here. Fn. 2: “My globe goes gaddy:” see note to 275.4-5, above. Fn. 3: “It must be some bugbear in the gender especially when old which they all soon get to look:” linked to “bucked up with fullness, and silvering to her jubilee.” Whether or not a description of the elderly Queen Victoria, the subject was a woman who “look”s “old.” Fn. 4: “see preseeding chaps:” scholar’s direction: see the preceding chapters. Perhaps also ALP’s pre-HCE lovers, the chaps who seeded her before they met. Fn. 5: “hairyoddities:” heredity. Gist: It’s only because no one told the missus of her husband’s (“massas:” massa’s, master’s) misbehavior that she didn’t laugh so hard that she would have sunk down on her fat arse, shaking all her (arse & other) cheeks to pieces. The (“fat arks”) fat arse, this footnote’s link to (“shame, home and profit” (.20-1)), Noah’s son’s Shem, Ham and Japheth, on the ark, is consistent with other testimony, for instance at 621.18-20, that her figure is not what it once was. Fn. 6: “jinglish janglage” links to jingling-jangling sound of the bells being “tolled” (.24). Ulysses includes some examples of bell-sound being rendered in English, for instance, in “Circe,” the “Haltyaltyhaltyall” of bicycle bells. Also: “the nusances of dolphins born:” The musician Arion was borne landward on a dolphin. 276.11: RM 1: “THE MONGREL UNDER THE DUNGMOUND. SIGNIFICANCE OF THE INFRALIMINAL INTELLIGENCE:” The Mongol in Our Midst: popular 1924 book by F. G. Crookshank, arguing that Down’s Syndrome births were throwbacks to inheritance from the racially mongrelized – children of mixed-race matches. “INFRALIMINAL:” beneath the line dividing human intelligence from sub-human. Much of the adjacent main text (.11-21) describes instinctive behavior, especially of animals. 276.5: “gale with a blost to him:” O Hehir glosses this as: Irishman with a correct Irish accent. 276.5: “dove without gall:” Brewer: “Pigeons have no gall, because the dove sent from the ark by Noah burst its gall out of grief, and none of the pigeon family has had a gall ever since.” 276.6: “jilldaw’s nest:” a jackdaw’s nest would be a random assemblage of oddments; this is Jill’s – of Jack and Jill fame - version. 276.7: “lettereens:” Lucia’s lettrines. The linked Fn. 3 identifies it as a letter requesting a certain kind of gift, as for a birthday – an article of jewelry, probably a ring, set with either bloodstone or moonstone. 276:10: “Ough, ough:” sound of someone blowing out a candle, as on birthday cake for a child – a “brieve kindli:” Also an injunction to breathe gently in blowing. 276.11ff. “Dogs’ vespers…” in general, evokes bedtime: the candle has just been blown out (.10), it’s time for a nightcap (.15) bats are flying (.20), it’s too dark to see anything rightly (.277.3) and so on. 276.11-2: “Goteshoppard quits his gabhard cloke to sate with Becchus. Zumbock! Achevre!:” equally-oppositely, both a good shepherd – of sheep – ecumenically sitting with goats, or a goat shepherd – a goatherd, condescending to sit (and – “sate” – dine) with his herd; in the case of the latter it would be only diplomatic to first remove his “gabhard,” his goatskin cloak. “Zumbock! Achevre!:” however peaceful his intentions, things seem to have gone wrong pretty quickly. See next entry. 276.13: “Zumbock!:” according to Bonheim, “zum Bock!” = German: literally “to the goat!” (same, in French, for (“Achevre!” (.13) à chèvre!), in effect similar to “to the devil!” Also, Sündbock, scapegoat. Also, sjambok: whip made from rhinoceros hide, used on cattle (or people). Occurs in “Circe” 276.13: “Achevre!:” French achever, to conclude 276.15: “if Nippon have pearls or opals Eldorado:” For certain. Similar to “if it’s hot in hell:” that Japan has pearls and Eldorado all manner of gems are two well-known, immutable facts (though to be sure the second is a legend). 276.16: “daindy dish:” dandy dish. Frumenty (“fruminy:” see McHugh) is usually considered a treat. 276.16-7: "lecking out:" given context - food, eating - licking out, as from a bowl 276.17: "Gipoo, good oil!:" Digger Dialects (see note to 262.10): gravy or grease; good news 276.17: "hushmagandy:" Digger Dialects (see note to 262.10): editors gloss as "an insipid and monotonous army dish." 276.18-9: “till gets bright that all cocks waken and birds Diana with dawnsong hail:” “Diana” seems to be the direct object here – which would have the moon (Diana, female counterpart to the sun, heralded by the “dawnsong” of cocks) still in the sky at dawn – visible, since the sun has yet to show above the horizon. 276.19-20: “Aught darks flou a duskness:” something/anything darts through the dusk. Most likely a bat; after all, these words are immediately followed by “Bats” and “peepeestrilling.” In “Nausicaa” the bat goes “ba;” here it’s something like “ot” or “awk.” (On the other hand, at 126.30-1, it’s ravens who “be pitchin their dark nets after him the next night:” probably the “night raven,” an imaginary nocturnal bird whose cry portends misfortune.) 276.20-1: “peepeestrilling:” the thrilling sound of (peepee-ing) urination. (A major FW motif: according to Ellmann’s 1984 biography (pp. 418-9) it thrilled the early-adolescent Joyce, and he seems never to have gotten over it.) 276.21: “Brannan’s on the moor:” there are a number of St. Brendan’s churches in Ireland – though none, it seems, in the Chapelizod vicinity. (There is one in Coolock, a few miles away.) There’s also St. Benedict the Moor – though as far as I can tell Ireland has no churches in his honor. In “Nausicaa,” bats reside, typically enough, in the church’s belfry and come out at night. As for the song (see McHugh) “Brennan on the Moor,” its subject is a highwayman who, after being hanged, is said to still ride at night. 276.22: “his still’s going strang:” in context, “still” is distillery. Much of this section of the chapter is a reminiscence of earlier times – when, for instance, Chapelizod’s “disused distillery,” described in “A Painful Case,” was still going strong. 276.23-4: “can tell things acommon on by that fluffy feeling.” bats can sense approaching objects through echolocation; not sure how that would be a “fluffy feeling,” but then have never been a bat. An echolocating bat appears in “Nausicaa.” 276.24: “acommon on:” as in Summer or Winter is (ME) “icumin in.” 276.25: “bodgbox:” the link to Fn. 7 (“A liss in hunterland”) may indicate that this can be taken as a rough echo of “Dodgson.” (Complication: McHugh changes to “lodgebox;” Oxford editors do not. Given context, especially the following “lumber,” “bodge” seems the likelier. The English Dialect Dictionary (1903) defines “bodge” as “a wooden basket or ‘scuttle.’” Neither Google nor OED has anything on “lodgebox” or “bodgebox.”) 276.26: “hoodie hearsemen:" hooded horsemen Fn. 2: “readymaid maryangs:” link is to “she of the jilldaw’s nest” (.6), the female half of the marriage. OED cites two cases, one from Swift, where wives are to be “bespoke” rather than “ready-made.” “Maryangs:” marrying. Gist is that she wants to keep herself young-looking, with a “linefree face,” for when her future husband returns home from the war. Fn. 3: “What I would like is a jade louistone to go with the moon’s increscent:” linked to her writing of “lettereens” (.7), this is Issy’s epistolary list of preferred presents - a bloodstone (a.k.a. heliotrope) and moonstone. Bloodstones are jade in color, with flecks of red. The two were frequently in play during the previous chapter. Also, compare 212.15-6: "She gave them ilcka madre's daughter a moonflower and a bloodvein." According to a tradition recorded in "Oxen of the Sun," a moonflower can induce pregnancy, and the "bloodvein" like the "bloodstone," definitely connotes menstruation, typically in sync with the moon. She may be requesting that her monthlies occur on a regular basis. Fn. 4: “Parley vows the Askinwhose? I do, Ida. And how to call the cattle black. Moopetsi meepotsi:” echoes of wedding language: “vows,” somebody “asking” someone, someone else answering “I do.” The double-I’s constitute a sure-fire Issy signature. Also, as Glasheen notes, throughout FW “ida is a girl of dual personality who has a twin, Ida-Ida.” As for the rest: “Moopetsi” is the name of a South African river valley; newspaper reports of the 1924 discovery there of platinum nuggets were probably where Joyce came across the name. Link to “Ough, ough, brieve kindli?” Beats me. As a rule, the rationale behind these connections, footnote to main text, are, by FW standards, relatively straightforward, but not in this case. Fn. 5: “I was so snug off in my apholster’s creedle but as long leash I’ll stretch more capritious in his dapplepied bed:” “capritious:” what with all the goat talk in the main text (.12-4) probably (capri) goatish – that is, lecherous. “Dapplepied bed:” from The English Dialect Dictionary (1903): “APPLE-PIE BED:” “A bed made by way of a practical joke with one sheet folded so as to make entry impossible.” Linked to an evocation of nightfall, this note’s gist is that she’s about to go to bed, in fact to a bigger bed: her cradle was “snug:” this one will be (“capritious”) capacious. (But, again: apple-pied. The joke will be on her.) Fn. 6: “Pipette:” linked to “birds Diana” (.19), the sound of birds, probably as imitated by Issy 277.1: “His sevencoloured’s suit:” Joseph’s coat of many colors? Whatever it was, it’s now, or now seems (“soot”) sooty, because it’s night, and the colors are undetectable in the dark. (Also, you can’t see rainbows at night.) Like “how to call the cattle black” (276, Fn. 4), a variant on the saying that all cats are black in the dark. Next entry continues the thread. 277.2-3: “his imponence one heap lumpblock:” Latin impono means to cheat, to impose upon. Here, just as his seven-colored suit (.1) is or now seems soot, so his overbearing bulk is or now seems just a large (black) lump. “Lumpblock:” lampblack, with which minstrel show performers “blacked up.” 277.3: “And rivers burst out:” see McHugh: the sign of a hero’s funeral. At 276.21-2 we heard that Finnegan’s wake was still going strong, at 276.26 that hooded hearsemen were about to carry him away. The presiding blackness is nocturnal and funereal. 277. 3: LM 1: there are (“so mucky spick bridges”) so many bridges because, according to the adjacent main text (.3-5), there are so many rivers all of a sudden. 277.6: “The wellingbreast, he willing giant:” no genetic support, but your annotator wonders whether “The” should be “She.” In any event, some willing someone’s breast is swelling and, in the watery element (all those rivers) welling up too. 277.7: “mountain mourning his duggedy dew:” Mountains of Mourne; mountain dew (American moonshine liquor, traditionally made by mountain men) 277.7: “duggedy:” “deoch:” Gaelic for drink 277.7: LM 2: “listnin:” accent from American south; “cottonwood” trees are also associated with south – as is the “mountain…dew” in the main text. 277.10: “he’s head on poll:” he’s come out ahead in the poll(s); i.e. he’s won the election for deputy member; he’s been executed for treason and had his head stuck on a pole – implication being that, as with Parnell, one leads to the other: you raise your head above your fellows and sooner or later they will cut it off. “He’s:” both he is (ahead) and his (head is on a pole). See next entry. 277.10: “Peter’s burgess:” in another race, Peter’s been elected burgess. 277.10: LM 3: "The throne is an umbrella strande and a sceptre's a stick:" like a transformation scene is reverse, deflating the panoply of government office recounted in main text. According to Oxford editors, this goes with line 8, based on the Dublin motto, as inscribed on the city seal. 277.10-11: “Miss Mishy Mushy:” “Miss” notwithstanding, sounds like a derogatory name for some male candidate, like “Tricky Dickey” in “Ivy Day in the Committee Room.” (Actually, “Miss” can be part of the insult.) He was defeated in the election – in an upset - by a tough-talking toff, perhaps with some Welsh ancestry. Also, probably a sign of female sexual response; see next item. 277.11: “tiptupt:” included “tupped:” i.e. screwed, sexually and otherwise 277.11-2: “Boblesse gobleege” - noblesse oblige would be an appropriate sentiment to accompany a toff’s entry into public office. Oxford editors have “Goblesse gobleege!” – perhaps adding “God bless” to the mix. 277.14: “white night:” aside from (McHugh) a sleepless night, can mean a midsummer night in northern latitudes when the sky never becomes completely dark 277.15-6: “as shower as there’s a wet in Westwicklow:” “Westwicklow” includes the letters “w,” “e,” and “t.” (Compare 279, Fn. 1, lines 7-8.) Also, “wet” is slang for “drink.” Also, to quote from the website en.climate-data.org, “There is a great deal of rainfall in Wicklow, even in the driest month.” 277.16-7: “a little black rose a truant a thorntree:” reverses the saying that all roses have thorns 277.18: “And Sein annews:” given context, probably “Sein” includes the Seine River, “annews” Anna. 277.22: “legionds:” legends 277.23: “shuttle:” shut till [until] Fn. 1: “suckle…honey:” honeysuckle. “Emballem:” emblem(atize): here, a pope represented in a certain pose. “His mouth open:” as Bloom recalls in “Hades,” corpses have their mouths sewn shut for burial. Link is to a passage (276.25-277.1) about a funeral. Fn. 2: "And a ripping rude rape in his lucreasious togery:” Linked to “Ochonal” (.2) - Daniel O’Connell. “Togery:” togs, toga: O’Connell as the caped “hugecloaked” (“Hades”) orator commemorated in his Dublin statue. Also, “(Ochone! Ochonal!),” meaning Alas!, for the rape of Lucretia Fn. 3: "Will ye nought would wet your weapons, warriors bard?:" wet your whistles – i.e. have a drink. Link is to “joydrinks for the fewnrally.” Also, wet your weapons – by bloodying them in conflict Fn. 5: “The stanidsglass effect, you could sugerly swear buttermilt would not melt down his dripping ducks:” link is to “meek Mike,” a political candidate. The sense is that, in trying to come across as everyone’s friend, he is faking it, successfully – you would swear that butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “Stanidsglass” may include Stanislavski, famous acting instructor. As McHugh notes, it definitely includes Stanislaus Joyce, origin of sweetly buttery "Burrus" of Professor Jones's lecture in I.6. 278.1-3: “who wants to cheat the choker’s got to learn to chew the cud:” the only way to avoid being killed by the state is to behave like cattle (who are, of course, eventually, killed anyway). 278.2: “cheat the choker:” phrase: “cheat the hangman” by committing suicide. Probably the prompt for LM 1, with its “noose.” 278.3: “scrubs on scroll:” writing on ME manuscripts was regularly scrubbed off and copied over, producing palimpsests. I suggest that “circum-” etc. (.4 - see next) illustrates the result. “Palimpsests” are mentioned at 182.2. 278.4: “circuminiuminluminatedhave:” scrolls, including illuminated ones, are rolled and unrolled. 278.4-5: “encomiums here and improperies there:” the scroll’s range from panegyric to reproach is condensed in Fn. 1, the linked footnote: good fellow and “grim felon,” God bless him and (“bloke:” block) fuck him. 278.5: “pansy:” compression of French pensée with “penny for your thoughts” 278.10-1: “a eh oh let me sigh too:” sol-fa 278.11: “Coalman bell: behoves you handmake of the load:” the sound of the coalman’s bell recalls the sound of the Angelus bell, commemorating the Incarnation. “Load” by way of common expression “load of coal.” A coalman’s bell was fastened onto the horse pulling a wagon of coal down the street, signaling its approach to the houses of customers. 278.11: LM 2: a letter, from “Uncle Flabbius Muximus to Niecia Flappia Minnimiss:” – probably connected to the “Post” of .13 278.12: “Jenny Wren: pick, peck:” sound of wren, pecking at ground 278.13: “Johnny Post: pack, puck:” sound of postman, stowing letters into his pack 278.17: LM 3: a begging letter, asking for help with “arrears” 278.17: “king…cat:” linked with Fn. 6: “With her modesties [majesty’s] office” - expression: “a cat may look at a king” (or queen) 278.20: LM 4: “Rockaby, babel, flatten a wall:” the tower of Babel was flattened by God because of human hubris. Probably connected to the groundlings who want to “raze a leader” (.21) - the main example, for Joyce, being Parnell, pulled down by the rabble 278.23: “Daganasanavitch:” Doggone son of a bitch, as contrasted with (LM 5) a “Gent.” 278.23: “Empire, your outermost:” that is, the mail arrives from the outermost reaches of the British Empire – always a point of imperial pride 278.25-6: “We have wounded our way on foe tris prince till that force in the gill is faint afarred:” We’ve (wendingly) evolved a long way from our oceanic origins. Perhaps ("wounded") that is not entirely a good thing. 278.25-6: "wounded our way on foe tris prince:" my translation of a passage from Lucien Lévy-Brúhl, L’expérience mystique et les symboles ches les Primitifs, as excerpted in Joyce's Notebook VI.B.45.141: "to paralyze an enemy or an animal in its walk, it suffices to wound its footprint." Here, "foe tris prince" sounds "footprints," which are "wounded." Fn. 1: "Gosem pher, gezumpher, greeze a jarry grim felon! Good bloke him:" McHugh, but not the Oxford editors, replace "greeze" with "freeze." The editors of the Digger Dialects notebook entries (see note to 262.10) concur, and gloss "freeze a" as "freeze-a!:" "a catch word satirically applied to a popularity-hunter (corruption of 'for he's a jolly good fellow!'):" Also, "Gosem pher:" "gezumpher:" a big artillery shell. "Good bloke him," besides Good bloke, him, and (McHugh) God bless him, probably, equally-oppositely, includes "block," fuck, as used in "Penelope" and one Joyce letter. Fn. 4: “Heavenly twinges, if it’s one of his I’ll fearly feint as swoon as he enterrooms:” speaking of letters – the note is linked to the sound of letters being packed in a mailman’s sack - if it’s a letter from her sweetheart she fears she’ll faint as soon as it comes through the letter slot. “Heavenly twinges:” By Gemini!, the twins - later By Jiminy! - was a popular exclamation. Fn. 5: “To be slipped on, to be slept by, to be conned to, to be kept up. And when you’re done push the chain:” the link is to “letters,” and letters can, as “lits,” beds, be slept (“slipt”) on, or, if from a lover, kept by one’s pillow (Joyce did this with one of Nora’s), or learned (“conned”) by heart; correspondences are or are not “kept up.” And, of course, there are “chain” letters: compare 66.13-4. Fn. 7: “cuckhold:” cockade, typically worn on a hat. British postmen wore (wear?) an official hat with a royal medallion at the front. Linked to “Empire, your outermost,” this imperial courier seems to think that it qualifies him to (“Strutting as proud”) strut around. Compare Shakespeare’s Dogberry. 279.1-4: This is rainstones ringing…Pot price pon patrilinear plop:” “Pot…” imitates sound of raindrops. Compare 74.18-9. 279.2: “rainstones:” hail, melted 279.2-3: “Strangely cult for this ceasing of the yore:” I think the FW date is March 21, which in some traditions would have been the last (or first) day of the year – the ceasing of the year. March is proverbially the most changeable of months (comes in like a lion, etc.), when one might remark on how the day is strangely cold (“cult”) for the season. 279.3: “Erigureen is ever:” “Erin Go Bragh!:” Irish slogan: Ireland Forever! (As McHugh notes, equal-opposites overtone of “Over.”) Also, of course, Ireland is (ever, forever) green. 279.4: “Pot price:” What price x?: is x really worth it? 279.5: “onkring:” perhaps “ohn’ Krieg,” without war: the following sentence incorporates Woodrow Wilson’s “war to end war.” The intermission/interval announced with 278’s RM 1 begins at 279.8 and, I think, ends at 280.1 with “A scene at night;” lessons and hostilities will recommence at 282.1; lines .5-8 entertain the conventional notion that games, for men, are a relatively civilized substitute for war. 279.7-8: “athclete, blest your bally bathfeet:” athlete’s foot, which, or so I was taught, can be picked up in a shower or bath. "Bally" is a polite substitute for "bloody," and athletes are trained to poise on the "balls of their feet." 278.8: “bally:” again, a mildly derogatory adjective, traditionally associated with stage-English types, for instance the Philip Beaufoy of “Circe” 279.9: “A halt for hearsake:” It’s all for her sake. (In other words, it’s all for the love of the woman: Helen of Troy, for instance, or, here, Issy, for whose favor the brothers often battle.) According to Oxford editors, this should start a new paragraph. Fn.1. line 1: “smooth of my slate:” smooth off the slate, wipe the slate clean – i.e. cancel all issues and grievances and start afresh. Also, given classroom setting, a student’s slate. “Slate” is also slang for “face.” Fn.1, line 1: “to the beat of my blosh:” blosh = blush; therefore beat of blush = pulse, which is pounding from sexual stimulation. Fn.1, lines 1-2: “gilded ewes:” maybe obvious: a gelded ram would become, for sexual purposes, the equivalent of a ewe. Also, gelded youth Fn.1, line 2: “jilting:” “jilt” is slang for abandoning or separating from a boyfriend/girlfriend. (“Dump” is the modern equivalent.) Given context of this passage, Issy’s is a sour-grapes complaint: not just that the young men around aren’t interested in women, but that they’re not enough interested in her. Undertone of Lady-Chatterley-ish convention that upper-class males are overbred and undersexed Fn.1, line 2: “laylock” in the language of flowers, lilacs usually stand for love. Fn1. line 3: “chants:” chance(s) Fn. 1, line 3: “cecilies:” young-girl voice suggests, to me anyway, the Cecily of The Importance of Being Earnest. Given ("laylock" (line 2)) lilacs, it’s probably worth noting that “Cecilies” echoes “lilies.” Fn.1, line 3: “killing times:” phrase: killing time Fn. 1, line 5: “perfection class:” given what follows – lessons on socially acceptable diction – a finishing school. Typical student would be a young woman. Fn. 1, lines 5-6: “You sh’undn’t write you can’t if you w’udn’t pass for undevelopmented:” teacher to student: you shouldn’t write “you can’t” if you don’t want to come across as uneducated, underbred. Presumably “cannot” would be more proper. (Even today, some editors balk at contractions. Perhaps “sh’undn’t” and “w’udn’t” are meant to illustrate the anomaly of skipping the “o” in “cannot.”) Fn.1, line 6: “This is the propper way to say that, Sr.:” here, also short for “Sister" as well as "Sir.” Although probably working both ways, it’s mainly the male teacher addressing his female student. Spelling of “proper” as “propper” is surely a private allusion to Joyce’s Trieste student Amalia Popper, on whom he had a crush, and to whom he was definitely (“Sr.”) a senior sir. (Compare 420.23-4: “Speak to us of Emailia;” here (.9) we have “amare.”) Fn.1, line 6-7: “If it’s me chews to swallow all you saidn’t you can eat my words for it:” “swallow” words and “eat”ing words: combines three expressions: you can take my word for it; someone can’t swallow all of what someone else says; someone who’s been proven wrong is made to eat his words. After the exchange about contractions (Fn. 1, lines 5-6), the unheard-of “saidn’t” (didn’t say) may count as an extreme example, perhaps for Swift’s Houyhnhnms’ “saying the thing that is not.” Fn. 1, lines 7-8: “as sure as there’s a key in my kiss:” compare 93.22-3: "Ask Kavya for the kay.” The Irish pronunciation of “key” is or can be “kay,” as in the pronunciation of the letter k, beginning the word “kiss.” Perhaps a riddle of the “Railroad crossing, look out for cars, / Can you spell that without any r’s?” type: compare 277.15-6 and note. (This may be the place to remember that, in Boucicault’s Arrah na Pogue, Arrah’s kiss transfers a message, not a key, to the jailed rebel Beamish MacCoul. (Obiter dictum: a character in the play addresses a judge as “riverence.”) A number of Wake commentators have assumed it’s a key, presumably because of passages like this, and Joyce may indeed be combining the Arrah story with another one; if so, my candidate is the tradition that one or more of Houdini’s escapes (127.10-1) involved his wife’s “farewell kiss,” secretly including a key for whatever he needed to escape from.) Fn.1, line 9: “amare hour:” “Amare” is Italian for “to love.” In Joyce’s poem “Bahnhofstrasse,” evening is the time for “trysting.” Fn.1, line10: “does:” dos, back Fn. 1, line 10: “loved have I on my back spine:” long shot: in their lesson’s conjugatings of “love:” “I have loved,” given a backspin Fn.1, line 12: “inst:” is, isn’t. Again – see note to .5-6 - more consternation about contractions Fn.1. line12: “my…newfolly likon:” “nouvelle icone:” French phrase: literally translates as “new icon;” approximate English equivalent would be “latest thing.” Here as “Jr” (line 11), it’s her latest new fellow. Like the one before, on whom she was just “throne away” (line 11), he’ll probably turn out to be a mistake, a folly, perhaps as part of her latest folie a deux. Fn.1, line 12: “I’ll slip through my pettigo:” both slips and petticoats are woman’s undergarments, which she is here proposing to slip off. Also, the village of Pettigo is on the border between north and south and in Joyce’s time the site of a station for the train from Dublin to Belfast; it was/is also billed as the “Gateway to Patrick’s Purgatory.” I suggest that the former circumstance accounts for why one might think of “slip”ping through it. Also – see McHugh – she’ll get by her college Little Go and get her (“decree” (line 13)) degree. Fn.1, line 13: “seidens:” Seidlitz Powder? Popular cure for constipation Fn.1, lines 14-6: “to grig my collage juniorees who, though they flush fuchsia, are they octette and viginity in my shade:” compare “Penelope:” it “grigged” her friend Josie Powell when Molly told her “a good bit of what went on between us [her and Bloom, when courting] not all but just enough to make her mouth water.” Issy is telling her leap-year gal-pals about what she did with guys when in her “flimsyfilmsies” (line .14), which makes them blush – “flush fuchsia,” in fact, and no wonder: “viginity” definitely includes virginity - their problem, not hers (she has “conjugate[d]” (line 8), been “plough[ed]” (line 13)), has become a real woman (they’re till “juniorees”), and all in all, when it comes to experience with men, put them in the shade. Fn.1, lines 15-6: “octette and virginity in my shade:” her 28 degrees (Centigrade) in the shade would be pretty warm: 84 degrees Fahrenheit. Fn.1, line 16-7: “they’re nary nay of my day. Wait till spring has sprung:” again, your annotator’s theory is that FW’s default date is March 21, Nora’s birthday and, usually, the official first day of spring. In this regard, note .18-9: when spring arrives “they’ll be plentyprime of housepets:” “plentyprime” is, certainly, FW’s 29 (leap-year girls), but “prime” is often synonymous with “first” – the first canonical hour, the beginning of the day, or of any other period, cycle, or age. Also, spring itself – again, usually beginning on the 21st of March. Point being, the 29 here may also be a 21. Fn.1, line17: “Wait till spring has sprung in spickness and prigs beg in to pry:” it’s spring! Sprigs of flowers begin to appear, prying out of the ground; as we’ve just been hearing lovers flirt and canoodle, so of course priggish people begin to pry on their doings. Also, echo of “birds [like pigs] begin to fly,” perhaps by way of OE “brids.” Fn. 1, line 17: “spickness:” as in the “spick and span” quality of something new. Spring cleaning Fn. 1, line 19: “about:” as in: about and around Fn. 1, lines .19-20: “I learned all the runes of the gamest game ever from my old nourse Asa:” most if not all what follows, up to the end (line 37), are the remembered voice of Asa, her “old nourse”/Norse: hence the allusions to “runes” (line 19), “thor” (line 26), (“Auden” (line 29) Odin), (“Skokholme” (line 27)), Stockholm). Old faiths – witchcraft, Druidism – occasionally surface. The “gamest game ever” is of course sex – “the ruelles of the rut” (line 31) – and all its do’s and don’t’s; 268.16-272.8, with its worldly wisdom from “gramma’s grammar” (268.16-7), was a sample. Fn.1, line 21: “heartswise and fourwords:” considering “vicking well” (same line) – something like “fucking well” or “frigging well:” “fourwords” are four-letter, i.e. improper, words. Complements the wisdom of the heart – “heartswise.” Issy’s old nurse knows all about such things, the high and the low. Fn. 1, lines 21-3: “Olive d’Oyly and Winnie Carr, bejupers, they reized the dressing of salandmon and how a peeper coster and a salt sailor med a mustied poet atwaimen:” olive oil, vinegar, salt and pepper are all plausible ingredients for mustard, for salad dressing, or for various salmon sauces. Oxford editors, but not McHugh, have “salanadmon;” McHugh, but not Oxford editors, has “atwainem.” Fn.1, line 22: “bejupers:” by jeepers: American expression; also a slangy “by Jupiter” Fn.1, line 23: “coster:” short for costermonger, outdoor seller of food; related to seller/salesman of “sailor” Fn. 1, line 22-3: “peeper coster and a salt sailor med made a mustied poet atwaimen:” coincided contraries: they combined (like pepper and salt) but still remained atwain. Fn.1, line 24: “Mad Mullans:” given proximity of Olive Oyl, the comic-strip character Moon Mullins, who debuted in 1923, seems likely here. Fn.1, line 25: “kill kackle:” kill the cackler – chicken – to cook in the kettle. A cackler doesn’t have to be a rooster: in fact OED defines “cackle” as the sound a hen makes. Fn.1, line 26: “Auden:” W.H. Auden took this as a reference to himself. A friend of his, fellow poet William Meredith, told me this. Fn. 1, line 27: “a dag in Skokholme:” according to Christiani, Scandinavian for: 1. a day in Stockholm; 2. a day on a whore’s islet. (Swedish “sköka:” harlot) Fn.1, line 27: “Drewitt’s altar:” Druid’s Altar: standing stone formation in County Cork – a traditional site for marriages. Also, see 493.19-21, with McHugh’s note: this may be another version of Ota, wife of the Viking invader Turgesius. Fn.1, lines 27-8: “culcumbre:” “cul” is French argot for arse or, sometimes, arsehole; “mot de Cambronne” (“Cumbrum” (9.27)) is, of course, “merde.” Asshole-shit Fn.1, line 28: “sloping ruins:” slapping reins Fn. 1, line 29: “swinge:” OED v. 1.e: swive: copulate Fn. 1, line 29: “you offering me clouts of illscents:” compare 550.8-16. Fn1, line 30: “leasward:” leeward in sailing; the greensward on a lea – meadow Fn.1, line 30: “off-red:” pale for fear, that is (same line) “blanching” Fn.1, line 31: “ruelles of the rut:” rues – rules – elles: rutted roads; established rules for (“elles”) women, especially when it comes to rutting Fn.1, lines 32-4: “The good fother with the twingling in his eye will always have cakes in his pocket to bethroat us with for our allmichael good:” the father will give them the communion wafer, to pass down their throats. Fn.1, line 33: “good fother:” Godfather Fn.1, line 34: “Amum. Amum. And Amum again:” Amens; sounds of appreciation on consuming the host; probably also (see note to Fn.1, lines 32-4) erotic Fn.1, lines 34-6: “For tough troth is stronger than fortuitous fiction and it’s the surplice money, oh my young friend and ah me sweet creature, what buys the bed while wits borrows the clothes:” truth is harder to take than fantasy, but face it, sister: when it comes to courtship, promises of marriage matter more than lovers’ sweet nothings; underbred toughs with (“surplus,” with a play on the priest’s surplice) income must win out over wits dressed in second-hand clothes. Again, a lesson from her “old nourse Asa;” see lines 19-20 and note. “Oh…ah:” omega-alpha. “What buys” is a sign of lower-class status. 280.1: “A scene at night:” again, see 279.5 and note. I propose that this marks the end of the interval, and that lines .1-9 are setting a scene, the action on stage being a young woman writing a (the) letter. The directions resemble Stephen’s “Ithaca” (Ulysses 17.612-20) conjuring of a staged commercial for the Queen’s Hotel. 280.2: “By her freewritten:” McHugh and Oxford editors both call for a period after “freewritten.” “Free writing” can mean either: 1. the practice, first popularized in 1934, of writing continuously, without regard to grammar or other strictures, for a set period of time; 2. what Yeats called “automatic writing,” presumed to open a Ouija-like connection to psychic or subconscious sources. Also, this is a woman writing (note “Anna” in “annalykeses” (.3)) and Joyce published in The New Freewoman: see 145.29. 280.4-6: “Is it in the now woodwordings of our sweet plantation where the branchings then will singingsing tomorrows gone:” a bit of scene-setting word-painting: compare the whispering yews of “Circe.” The wind in the trees is whispering and singing. 280.5: LM 1: “Bibelous hicstory:” probably refers to .4-5: “Hopely for ear that annalykeses if scares for eye that sums;” compare 1 Corinthians 2:9: “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” 280.7: “yesters outcome:” Oxford editors have “ontocome,” which, counterpointed with “tomorrows gone” (.6), makes more sense. 280.9: “Such is:” Such as. This version of the FW letter is derived from, or similar to, a sample from a book on the proper writing of letters. (Nora’s first letter to Joyce apparently had a similar model.) 280.9: “A. N.:” Any Name 280.10, 16, 19, 27: “Shlicksher…Shrubsher…Shrubsheruthr…Shlicksheruthr:” Leah Ann Connor suggests that these may be the sounds of Issy licking her pencil. Problems: 1. in other places, for instance 66.14, the medium seems to be ink; 2. at .19-20, just after “Shrubsher,” she waves the letter gently in the air, which makes sense for ink but not for pencil; 3. “Blotsbloshblothe” (.33): possibly her blotting the letter (although also possibly the latest version of its tea stain), common practice for documents written in ink but not pencil. Complication: “pencil” not only includes “pen” but (see note to 3.6) can also signal a painter’s brush. A quandary, and I can offer no better explanation for those “Sh…” sounds (pen dipped in ink bottle?) but all in all pencil-licking seems less than likely. 280.11-12: “one if:” i.e., if there is one 280.14-5: “maggy…domestic:” Maggy/Marge is a domestic, a servant. 280.15-6: “pershan of cates:” present of cates – tasty food items. See note to 371.1. 280.16-8: “Those pothooks mostly she hawks from Poppa Vere Foster but these curly mequeues are of Mippa’s moulding:” “hawks:” harks (back): i.e. this feature (the pothooks, s-shapes, in her writing) traces back to the father; the other will come from mom – “Pippa’s moulding.” On Google Books, “Curly-q” shows up as both a handwriting flourish and in the context of hairdos – here, as done up by her mother. 280.17: “Poppa Vere:" “papaver:” Latin for poppy 280.19: “Wave gently in the ere:” sound reaches the ear in waves; we’re still hearing the gentle “woodwordings” (.4) introduced at the top of the page. Probably also: her hair, having been “waved,” is rippling in the wind. On the primary level, again: she’s waving the letter to dry the ink; see note to 280.10, 16, 19, 27. 280.20-1: “(consolation of shopes):” consolations of hope 280.24: “peethrolio:” Petruchio, gold-digging courtier of The Taming of the Shrew 280.25: LM 4: “Le hélos:” the sun – matches the heliotrope alluded to in “flower or perfume” (.25) 280.29: “concomitated:” come 280.31: “as sphere of silver fastalbarnstone:” given recent (.25) mention of bloodstone, as far as the moon/moonstone. (McHugh: “barnstone” = Dutch barnsteen = amber) 280.33: “after odours sigh of musk:“ perfume on letter (probably heliotrope). Also, after hours: it’s dark. “Musk:” music 280.33: “Blotsbloshblothe:” the blot (of tea) at the foot of the letter 280.34: “Sleep in the water:” just noting in passing that the FW letter often seems to have arrived in a bottle, across the water from Boston 280.35: "shake the dust off:” off of your shoes. In general, .34-6 is advising her to make herself comfortable by the fire, nod off, and dream of her future husband. For girls, such dreams were held to be prophetic. 281.1: “Lammas is led in:” Lammas is an ancient harvest festival celebrated midway between the Summer Solstice and the Autumn Equinox. Folk-etymology has it as “Lamb Mass;” in some traditions a lamb is led into church. 281.1: “baith our washwives:” the two (“baith:” both) washerwomen of I.8. As elsewhere in FW, “weird” (.2) identifies them with (white, in this case) magic, of the “faery” (.3) not the witchy variety. “Baith” is also “bathe.” 281.2-3: “thorngarth:” OED on “thorn-garth:” “an enclosure protected by a thorn-hedge.” The “evil” thorngarth here is contrasted with an equally-opposite space of “faery blithe”ness (.3). 281.4: LM 2: “Twos Dons Johns Three Totty Askins:” reverses the genders of the two girls and three soldiers of the park episode, in a context of flirtation (Don Juan, (“Totty”) totties - in Portrait means girlfriends. Makes sense if the main-text quotation from Quinet is taken as including children’s games, especially the kinds of courtship games on display in the previous chapter. 281.4: RM 1: “BELLUM-PAX-BELLUM” is presumably cued by “les civilisations se sont choquées et brisées,” in the main text. Possibly what Eliot in “East Coker” called “l’entre deux guerres:” I haven’t been able to determine the date this was first included (an early version of the sequence was published in 1934), but Joyce was certainly one of those not surprised by the advent of WW II. (Evelyn Waugh, for one, predicted it in the 1930 Vile Bodies.) 281.11: LM 3: “Zerothruster:” a fucker. (Compare 261.23-4, among other places.) 281.14: "Margaritomancy!:" Prompted by “marguerite” of 281.6, as “Hyacinthinous” is by “jacinthe” (281.5) and “pervinciveness” by “pervenche” (281.6). (Obvious?) Anyway, all are (.15) “Flowers.” The RM 2 “SORTES VIRGINIANAE,” “Sortes Vergilianae” (see McHugh) suggests that the reader has made a point of singling out random words as they strike her attention. Like “Margaritomancy” (see McHugh), a way of letting accident determine your action. See next entry. 281.16: “trifid tongues:” Ovid, Metamorphoses: “trifida flamma:” lightning 281.17: LM 4: “A saxum shillum:” to take the Saxon shilling was to enlist in the British army. Adjoining main text includes ("Bruto and Cassio" (.15-6)), Brutus and Cassius, Caesar and Roam – civil war. 281.21: ”Ancient’s aerger:” an ancient anger – an old grudge 281.24-5: “That’s how our oxyggent has gotten ahold of half their world:” “Oxy” – Oxford – gentleman; his kind, like the Romans before, have taken over half the world. (In “Telemachus,” Mulligan calls Haines an “oxy chap.”) Also, oxygen rusts (Erin) iron. 281.26: “the ruck:” the hoi-polloi. Occurs in this sense (among others) in Ulysses. Perhaps also overtone of (see previous entry) rust Fn. 1: “The “nasal fossa:” a.k.a “nasal cavity:” prominent in human skulls, therefore a determinable sign of “natal folkfarthers,” original forefathers. Caesar had Vercingetorix paraded as prisoner in a triumph before ordering him strangled. Linked to "Numance" - Numantia, a “Celtiberian” – Spanish-Celtic - settlement which rebelled against Rome and was destroyed. The speaker here seems to be indignant that the Gallic Celt Vercingetorix has received more historical recognition than the Spanish Celtic defenders of Numantia. She may have a point – Vercingetorix’s name, ironically, registers mainly because he appears in Caesar’s first-year classroom classic, The Gallic Wars – but, considering that the man gave himself up in order to save the lives of his people, this seems pretty harsh. Fn. 3: “You daredevil donnelly…:” linked to “trifid tongues.” A trifid tongue would be a (three-) forked tongue, proverbial for liars such as the snake in Genesis, and, by extension, all lowdown lying male seducers. Issy knows this, but still can’t help falling for the devil with his (“lots of”) lies and piercing eyes; “flashy foreign mail” = cosmopolitan dash in a man at the time when French postcards were synonymous with lasciviousness; “flashy” also because light is flashing off “mail” in the sense of armor, of the sort worn by a romantically desirable “knight in shining armor,” for instance (“I dalgo”) an hidalgo, known for aristocratic and chivalric-romantic demeanor. “Cowrie hard:” calling card – today’s equivalent would be a woman giving a man her phone number. (“Nestor” shows that Joyce knew that cowries were once used as money; he probably also knew that in some cultures they were taken as symbols of the vagina.) “With all my exes, wise and sad:” a sadder-but-wiser woman is one who has, as a later age would put it, been around the block a few times, with her (now) ex-lovers or ex-husbands. A woman of the world, she knows he has a past, so does she, and here, sir, it is: full disclosure. 282.6: “At maturing daily gloryaims:” a bit of Coué-ish uplift talk of the "Everyday in every way I'm getting better and better" variety: something like: Keep raising your goals with each and every day! 282.7-8: “A flink dab for a freck dive and a stern poise for a swift pounce:” boxing moves 282.8-9: “mainly arith:” manly art (of boxing) – with his fists. And, of course, his arithmetic lesson begins by counting the fingers on his hand – French main. 282.9-12: “he knowed from his cradle, no bird better, why his fingures were giving him whatfor to fife with:” a born musician from birth, he knew right away that his fingers were for playing the “fife.” (At .30-32 he will be doing scales on a fife or similar instrument.) “Fife” is – see .7-8 and next entry - also fight. 282.11: “giving him whatfor:” giving him a beating 282.12: “First, by observation, there came boko:” Christiani: “Buhko,” moo-cow. The practiced Joyce reader will recognize the moo-cow coming down the road in the first sentence of A Portrait. Gaelic bó, cow.” Here, as in Portrait, it is the first to appear “by observation.” Also, according to Digger Dialects, "boko" is 19th century English slang for the nose. As here, the example given is from an account of a boxing match. 282.13: “tittlies:” titillate. (All of this first round of names for his fingers are baby-ish. Compare Cissy with Baby Boardman in “Nausicaa” (12.257-9).) 282.15-7: "pickpocket...pickpocketpromise:" compare Hamlet on hands: "pickers and stealers," in turn an allusion to the Book of Common Prayer, including a vow to "keep my hands from picking and stealing." 282.17: "upwithem:" foppish practice of extending the fifth finger of the hand holding a tea cup. 282.24: "hoojahs koojahs:" in Digger Dialects, "hoojah" means "What's-his-name," "koojah" is Persian for "where." Sthe student is confused - he doesn't know the who, what, or where of what he's reading. 282.15-7: “pickpocket with pickpocketpumb, pickpocketpoint, pickpocket prod, pickpocket pickpocketpromise:” reciters of the C of E catechism promise “To keep my hands from picking and stealing.” Hamlet is alluding to it when he calls his hands “pickers and stealers.” 282.17: “upwithem:” probably alludes to etiquette rule to lift the little finger of the hand holding a cup of tea. Usually signalizes affected decorum 282.20-1: “cardinal numen:” cardinal number 282.23: "Kay O’Kay:” “KO” = “knockout” in boxing. Given Vico ricorco, maybe relevant that signal for “OK” is a circle formed with thumb and index finger? 282.23-27: “Always would he be reciting of them, hoojahs koojahs, up by rota, in his Fanden’s catachysm from fursed to laced, quickmarch to decemvers, so as to pin the tenners, thumbs down:” reciting units of 10, in a “rota” up and down: sounds to me like he’s saying the rosary. (Would fit both the religious sequence (catechism, rota, “Holy Joe” (.17)) we’re in and the stage of his membership in the church: he’s gone from infancy to confirmation. Also: when a boxer has been knocked down, the referee goes into a ten-count.) 282.24: "hoojahs koojahs:" Digger Dialects (see note to 262.10): What's-his-name. Presumably refers to the names of the cardinals just run through 282.25: “fursed to laced:” furs and lace both signify luxury: here, of the cardinals, for instance the (“epulent”) opulent “curdinal weisswassh” (.22). 282.26: “quickmarch:” a march in quick-time, 120 steps per minute 282.28: “arecreating:" r-creating: recreating. Only the pope can create cardinals; he may be playing at it. 282.28: A Wake Newslitter says this should be added after “om:" “a rightleft by and ingreasing om and moultipiecing.” Not included by Oxford editors or McHugh, but it would go with the boxing thread Fn. 4: “That’s his whisper waltz I like from Pigott’s with that Lancydancy step. Stop:” linked to “pin puff pive piff,” etc.: 3/4 waltz beat. The “Whisper Waltz” was a popular waltz and song of the 19th-early 20th century; Rudy Vallee recorded a version in 1933. “Lancydancy step:” Lancers dance step (see McHugh). In “Circe,” Professor Maginni orders “the Katty Lanner step,” named after the daughter of the creator of the Vienna waltz and herself a noted choreographer; the music is to “waltz time.” 283.4: “Ace, deuce, tricks, quarts, quims:” see 71.24-5, 134.7 and notes: ace-deuce, in either order is a draw in a card game or a roll of the dice. A trick is a round won in a number of card games. (It can also mean a casual sexual encounter, usually for money.) “Quarts” probably refers to drinking. As McHugh notes, “quim” is slang for the vagina. In other words, at this stage the young Kev is going to the bad in the usual, time-tested way: gambling, drinking, loose women. 283.5-6: “whole number:” not a fraction 283.6: “on the other hand:” literally the other hand 283.7-9: “loaferst terms for their aloquent parts, sexes, suppers, oglers, novels and dice:” see note to Fn. 2. 283.8: “aloquent:” “aliquot.” OED definition: “Contained in a larger number a certain number of times, without leaving any remainder…Chiefly in aliquot parts.” Occurs in “Cyclops” 283.9: “novels:” well into the 19th century, some severe sects considered the reading of novels, as opposed to sermons, a path to immorality. 283.9-10: “find…the valuse of:” mathematical formula, e.g. find the value of the function with x being 4 283.10-11: “thine-to-mine articles:” as an inevitable result of his downward course, he’s become familiar with the ways of the pawn shop. 283.13-4: “his tables:” gaming tables. Also, in “Aeolus,” “the tables of the law” are the ten commandments. 283.15: “oozies ad libs:” floozies to [Latin "ad"] libertines 283.15-7: “several townsends, several hundreds, civil-to-civil imperious gallants into gells (Irish):” by now a thoroughgoing pimp, he’s introduced many “gallants” to girls. Worse, it’s been imperial (English) men to Irish girls. 283.17-8: “bringing alliving stone allaughing down to grave clothnails:” 1. in (1) Peter 2:4 the followers of Jesus are compared to “a living stone.” 2. he’s reduced a happy (laughing) 165-pound man (eleven stone, eleven), to something negligible, near death. (Googling “clothnail” shows it means something real, something beside the 1/16 measurement, but I haven’t been able to find out just what.) 283.19-20: “a league of archers, fools and lurchers under the rude rule of fumb:” as in the Bible, numbering the populace is the indispensable prerequisite to ruling it. (David angers God by “numbering” his people.) The “archers, fools, and lurchers” = the common people before brought under the thumb of government control. (“Archers” may hearken back to the Robin Hood story – free Saxons from before when the Normans took over.) A good deal of this page is about tyranny facilitated by numbers: for instance, the thirty-nine articles (10-11), agent of Anglican domination of Ireland. 283.21: “be all the prowess of ten:” potentially infinite. In mathematics, the “power of ten” refers to ten multiplied by itself a certain number of times: 10, 100, 1000, etc. 283.24: “nucleuds:” combines Euclid (geometry) with Newton (differential calculus) 283.25: “bearings:” in geometry, a bearing is the number of degrees of an angle measured from the vertical. As measured from true north, used in this sense in navigation 283.27: “agnomes:” unknowns: in algebra, the variable to be solved. Usually signified by x; hence “agnomes, yees and zees”-x's, y's, and z's Fn. 1: “Twelve buttles man:” Regency tradition of defining a man by how much claret he could drink at one sitting. So far as I know the upper limit was a six-bottle man; compare the “fourbottle men” of 95.25. Fn.2: Gamester Damester in the road to Rouen he grows more like his deed every die:” linked to a second round of vices (“sexes, suppers, oglers, novels and dice” (.9)), this confirms Kev’s path on the road to ruin, following in the footsteps of his reprobate father, who died. Also, Ellmann (1984), p. 572: Joyce found Rouen a miserable place. “Gamester:” besides a wencher (McHugh), a gambler, fond of (.9) dice. 284.1: LM 1: “A stodge Angleshman has been worked by eccentricity:” a stodgy stage Englishman would go with the “given obtuse one” (.2). (There are both “obtuse” and “eccentric” angles.) “Royde” (.1) would be a stage-English accent. “Angleshman” presumably cued to “angles” (.2). On stage and off, the English are noted for their eccentricities. 284.4: “Brickbaths:” fragments of brick thrown as a sign of disapproval – for instance at a stage production. Maybe not pertinent, but “bathbricks” were used for cleaning and polishing. 284.4: “The family umbroglia:” the lesson has just outlined a geometrical figure: a straight line bisecting the midpoint of the inside of an arc: ---). (Typographical illustration here is approximate: please pretend the horizontal dashes are continuous and intersect with the arc.) Upright, an umbrella. (The figure will return, more or less, at 317.17-20: a “stickup” with a “mushroom on it,” which “paraseuls round.”) Here, it represents an observer’s account of sexual penetration, sometimes frontally, sometimes rear-entry, sometimes, it seems increasingly likely, anally. I agree with Margot Norris that the definitive sin of FW at least involves what Freud called the primal scene. 284.5-9: “A Tullagrove pole to the Height of County Fearmanagh has a septain inclinaison and the graphplot for all the functions in Lower County Monachan...is rivisible by nighttim:“ Counties Fermanagh and Monaghan are adjoining. A telegraph pole near the border between them might therefore be visible (or re-visible) from one to the other. The language here mimics that of textbook exercises. 284.8: “zeroic couplet:” 8, or as a couple of 0’s 284.10: “heventh:” seventh heaven 284.11: “noughty times:” naughty indeed: vagina and anus, seen from back, from the side. (Joyce uses pretty much the same conceit in “Penelope,” where Molly is connected with the number 8, vertically and, as the sign for infinity, horizontally; see next entry, also.22-4 and note.) In Richard III I.1, Shakespeare plays with “naught” = nothing = vagina; also compare Hamlet’s “nothing” in the “country matters” exchange of III.2, also the (probably) double-meaning title of Much Ado About Nothing. 284.11: LM 2: "An oxygon is naturally reclined to rest:” adjoins “noughty times an (octo-) 8, reclined horizontally ꚙ. The phrase “naturally inclined to rest” is most commonly applied to humans and animals after eating. Also, a popular version of Newton’s account of inertia is that “all objects are naturally inclined to rest.” Note: “oxygon” is, says OED, a triangle with three acute angles. (Etymologically, “oxy” means “sharp,” "acute.”) In that sense neither 8 nor "eight" are oxygons or octagons, the shape of a stop sign. Be that as it may, Joyce lets figure 8 – eight – Latin "octo" - carry the day. 284.13-4: “international surd:” a surd is an irrational number, pi being the most familiar example. “International” may echo "irrational" 284.15: “ififif at a tom:” compare 455.16: “atoms and ifs” 284.19-20: “the twelve deaferended dumbbawls: deaf and dumb; can go with FW’s twelve, who are elderly and sometimes seem to have trouble hearing, for instance at 378.22-3. 284.19: “dumbbawls:” dumbbells: more 8s or ꚙs 284.21-2: “urutteration of the word in pregross:” the uttering of the word before it takes on flesh – when it’s pre-gross. Thus original, pre-sex: ur-rutter 284.22-4: “two antesedents be bissyclitties and the three comeseekwenchers trundletrikes:” reversion to park scene: two girls, three soldiers. Former may be “antesedents” in the sense of virgins: have not yet been seeded. (Compare 275 Fn. 4 and note.) This despite their busy, buzzing "-clitties," being stimulated by the bike-riding. The three soldiers who have come here to seek wenches are the natural consequences of the girls’ brazen flirtation. (Girls riding bicycles in Joyce are always, following the conventional wisdom of his youth, being brazen.) “Trundletrikes:" maybe because tricycles are slower than bicycles - trundling rather than speeding. Bicycles, with their two wheels, are yet another variation on the theme of 8 and ꚙ, as in play in "Penelope." 284.25: “footplate:” a “footplate” could be the step leading up to the door of a coach or the resting step for driver or fireman on a train engine. (Occurs in this sense in “Circe.”) The term also shows up in patents for bicycles, apparently as attachments to pedals. 284.25: “Big Whiggler:” British Whigs were the party of the landed aristocracy and, later, the wealthy merchant class. Pretty much fits with ("Big Whig-) “bigwig.” Also, given bicycle context, probably one of those early models, called a high-wheeler, with one big wheel in front. See next entry. 284.25-6: Big Whiggler restant upsittuponable:” as bicycle, a high-wheeler (see previous entry) with the rider perched on top. As coach, the “upsittuponable” would be the father, the Big Whiggler,” as an “outside” – that is, a passenger perched on the roof. (Later “Coach with the Six Insides” (359.24) shows that Joyce was familiar with the term.) All together, the two (Issy and her double), three (twins and tertium quid), four (ALP) with father aboard make a “tandem” procession along the North Circular Road – a variation on the “family umbroglia” (.4). (Also: Wilde’s advice against starting a career from the bottom: “No; begin at the top and sit upon it.” A Wake Newslitter VII, 1, 9 suggests “Big Whiggler” may be Wilde, the “Big White Caterpillar.”) 284.26: “NCR:” Dublin’s North Circular Road is, roughly, an arc. 284.27: “tandem:” more bicycle talk: people ride tandem on a bicycle built for two. 284.27-285.1: “an ottomantic…a lot):” language of photography. A dekko (“turquo-indaco” (.28)) was a kind of photograph paper. (Later, beginning about 1930, a brand of camera. Also, slang for a glance: take a dekko of that.) Photographers working in dark rooms were concerned with the paper’s degree of “pictorial shine by pictorial shimmer” (.28-9) and (“asheen” (.30)) sheen: effects of light as it came through a “lenz” (.285.1). (References to “automatic [“ottomantic”] cameras started showing up around 1920.) Apparently, the resulting photograph is in color – or, I think more likely, we’re looking at a turquoise-indigo negative. 284.29ff: “gad of the gidday:” god of the (good) day – the sun (compare 83.34-5), lighting up the “pictorial [pastoral] scene” just described, brightening the dark turquoise-indigo colors of the picture to the “viridorefulvid” colors of summer. On the next page, this sunny scene will be darkened and dispersed by a thunderstorm. (Also – see previous note – photographers care about sunlight.) FN.1: “Poll” links with “pole” of line 7. FN.3: “coachers:” a “coach” is also a private tutor. Linked to “Answers, (for teasers only)” – that is, to one of those teachers’ editions of a textbook with the answers in the back of each chapter. The ensuing results make clear why such coaches were called crammers: a dull student is being force-fed at way too fast a rate, with head-exploding results around 285.15-22. FN.4: “Braham Baruch:” Bernard Baruch, famous financier, plutocrat, adviser to statesmen, philanthropist. Linked to “Big Whiggler” - he was definitely a bigwig FN.5: "A gee is just a jay on the jaunts cowsway:“ G” in “giants” is soft – pronounced “J.” “Jaunts:” gents. As for “cowsway:” Mink reports that “herds of cattle” were once “driven along the NCR.” 285.2: “outraciously enviolated:” violated by someone of another race. Miscegenetic rape. Opposite of (“habby cyclic erdor” (1-2)) happy civic order, especially if “habby” includes “hubby.” (See next entry; “Hubby” occurs in “Grace.”) “Enviolated” also probably includes “envy:” in Homer and Joyce and many others, the dead, of the sort that show up at table-turning séances, envy the living. Compare the end of “The Dead.” 285.3: “mierelin roundtableturning:” given context, probably includes multiplication tables. Also, “table-turning” was a feature of séances. Also, according to Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae (a major FW source), Merlin’s magic allowed Uther Pendragon to rape – outrageously violate (.2) - Igraine, the wife of his enemy, and impregnate her with Arthur, later king of the Round Table. LM 2’s “Arthurgink’s hussies and Everguin’s men” echoes Arthur and Igraine. (Odd, I think, that LM 2 follows rather than precedes LM 1, but then see note to .11-2: this may be a case of one marginal comment doing double duty.) 285.3: “knuts:” “knots” in Scandinavian 285.4: “dart with the yeggs:” Egg-and-dart: an ornamental device common in Greek and Roman temples 285.5: “wingless arrows:” unfledged arrows, therefore with unpredictable destinations, hence “hodgepadge” (.6). In one Arab legend, a wingless arrow is used to randomly determine which of ten sons is to be sacrificed at the Kaaba. 285.6-7: “all boy more missis blong him:” an instance of what I have been calling FW’s stage-Chinese or stage-Oriental idiom. Always or almost always, as here, signals (usually exasperated) befuddlement. Earliest example occurs in “Circe:” “Li li poo lil chile,” etc. (Ulysses 15.962). Perhaps related to Mongolia–mongoloid equation common in Joyce’s time. Kev is in a frenzied state here both because the lesson is difficult and because he is the thick one. 285.8: LM 1: “Finnfinnotus of Cincinnati:” Since, in Joyce’s time, Cincinnati, Ohio was America’s pork capital (a fact celebrated by the 1950 variety song “Cincinnati Dancing Pig”), it makes sense that this should be adjacent to “hogglepiggle” (.8). Also, “Finnfinnotus:” Cincinnatus famously walked away from power – gave his ("-finnotus") final notice – after saving Rome. 285.9: “catched and dodged:” sounds like a game of tag. Also, the American expression “raining cats and dogs” (repeated at .16, in a distinctly American voice): see .10, .15.16, and .18, with notes. 285.9. “exarx:” “ex archēs:” from the starting line. Again, a race 285.10: “himmulteemiously:” rainstorm: the heavens (German Himmel) are teeming. 285.10: “he wins her hend! He falls to tail!:” given ongoing race, this may be an allusion to Atalanta story. 285.11: “ersed ladest mand:” erstwhile ladies’ man. Fits the footnote (Fn. 3): a harem-full of pretty young women assembled for his diversion 285.11-2: “ersed ladest mand…the losed farst:” Matthew 20:16: “So the last shall be first, and the first last: for many are called, but few chosen.” Probably pertinent that the context is of a race, with winners and losers; also that the (probably) corresponding LM entry includes “Arthurgink’s” (King Arthur, with first syllable placed last) and “Everguin’s” (Guinevere, with first syllable placed last.) 285.13-4: “twalegged poneys and threehandled dorkeys:” unpromising entrants in a horse race, one would think. Also, a reprise of the bicycle and tricycle of the previous page: Fn. 4 has just (see McHugh) given us someone freewheeling on a boneshaker, a bicycle. 285.15-6: “rainborne pamtomomiom:” thunderstorm; see next three entries. 285.16: “aqualavant:” aqua-lavant: water-washing (from rain) 285.16: “cat my dogs:” American expression: “raining cats and dogs” 285.18: “volts:” volt = unit of electrical measurement. From lightning of thunderstorm 285.22: “finish:” as McHugh notes, the multiplication just completed (.17-21) has been partly in Finnish. 285.22: “helve’s fractures:” “twelve factorial:” a mathematical formula which I do not understand. Compare “factionables” at .26. 285.22-3: “outher wards:” outer wards 285.25-6: “bully clavers:” Balaclavas (hats). Also, an ironic Englishy “bally clever.” 285.27-8: “Binomeans to be comprendered:” the binomial theorem, which he does not comprehend. (Neither do I.) 285.29-286.1: “prostalutes:” postulates. OED defines its meaning in geometry: “A simple…operation whose possibility is self-evident or taken for granted, e.g. the drawing of a straight line between two points in space.” Fn. 2: “Barneycorrall, a precedent for the prodection of curiosity from children.” Joyce's note to Notebook VI.B.45,133: "bornokarl." As annotated by Ian MacArthuir and Viviana Mirela Braslasu, this comes from The Vikings, by Allen Mawr, as follows: "Children were tossed on the point of the spear and the Viking leader who discouraged the custom was nicknamed barnakarl, i.e. the children's friend." As McHugh notes, "Barneycorral" is paired with the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. Fn. 3: “A pfurty pscore of ruderic rossies haremhorde for his divelsion:” link is to ”ladest mand” (.11), ladies’ man, and here he is with a harem of pretty rossies. “Divelsion” includes “divel,” Irish pronunciation of “devil.” Also, as division, perhaps long division, it reminds us that this is still a math lesson. Joyce's notes (see previous entry) trace this to Allen Mawr's The Vikings: "the great grandson of Rurik, the founder of the Russian kingdom, had more than 800 concubines." Hence the forty-score of "ruderic rossies" harem, for his diversion Fn. 6: “Indiana Blues on the violens:” “Indiana Blues:” a song covered by several bands; the earliest listing is for 1916. Joyce seems to think it’s the name of the band’s violinist. As McHugh notes, all colors of the rainbow are present, and the link is to “Iris in the Evenine’s World” (.27) - “Iris” is presumably the pen name of the paper’s authority on fashionable gossip. She is also the Greek goddess of the rainbow. Perhaps the “Evenine’s” – evening – world because sunsets are colorful and because that’s when the colorful gowns show up at balls: Bloom contemplates both phenomena in “Nausicaa,” and Joyce, with the aid of Ponchielli’s “Dance of the Hours,” builds a “Circe” scene on the same basis. “Tomatoes malmalaid with De Quinceys salade:” believe it or not, there are, or were, such things as tomato marmalade and quince salad. 286.3: RM 1: “HEPTAGRAMMATON…:” "P.t.l.o.a.t.o” in the adjoining main text is seven (hepta-) letters. The “LUSTRAL PRINCIPIUM” refers to the Roman practice of sacrificial purification every five years. Turning a new page (see McHugh) in sense of turning over a new leaf. We are passing from one stage to another; the adjoining (.4-5: see McHugh) allusion to Yeats’ A Vision suggest that the change is in part one of reincarnation. 286.4: “initials falls:” false initials; the Fall of original sin, the “primary taincture” (.5), original taint 286.5: "primary taincture:" see previous entry. Also, "taint" as "tint," the first sign of color. Adumbrates what, following J.S. Atherton, your annotator thinks is FW's main metaphysical premise: that the Fall was God's sin, not Adam's, and that its main manifestation is the rainbow, signaling the prismatic refraction of the white light of moral perfection. 286.6: “begath:” Gath: Philistine city, cited in 2 Samuel 1:20: “Tell it not in Gath, proclaim it not in the streets of Ashkelon.” 286.6-7: “the arab in the ghetto knows better:” 1. street Arab: urchin. 2. because the Arabs invented algebra. Like studying French for years and then going to France only to find that the kids speak the language better than you do. Compare 98.10-15. 286.9: “frost:” first 286.10: “dirty:" duty 286.10: “hacked at Hickey’s:” Oxford editors insert “ever so new at” after “Hickey’s.” “Hacked:” hocked: American slang for “pawned.” (See McHugh for “Hickey’s” as second-hand book store.) Compare Stephen’s schoolbooks in “Wandering Rocks.” “Page torn on [and] dirty” may be part of the pawnbroker’s cold-eyed assessment: not really all that bloody new, is it now? 286.11: “hucksler, Wellington’s Iron Bridge:” hustler, Huck Finn, huckster, hocker (see second note to .10) in sense of seller of hocked goods. In “Wandering Rocks,” Stephen is browsing through second-hand books of the sort sold by Hickey’s (see .10 and note.) on Bedford Row, around the corner from Wellington Bridge. 286.13: “trump:” boss suit in various card games. Also, he is, with trumpet, trumping a farewell (“atout atous”) toot – toot to everyone, to everyone. 286.13: “cardinhands:” it was from the fingers on his hand that he first learned (282.20-1) his cardinal numbers. There were four of them (.282.20) – apparently the thumb wasn’t involved – like the four suits in a deck of cards. 286.14: “big deal:” in poker, four of a kind. More generally, a poker round with serious money at stake 286.14-5: “rossecullinans:” Cullinan diamond – the largest diamond ever found 286.15: “in suitclover:” expression: “in clover” means well-off, lucky, doing very well 286.16: “revoke:” in bridge, whist, etc.: to fail to follow suit; i.e. when one’s hand still holds a card of the suit being led 286.18: “plates to lick one and turn over:” licking the plate, turning it over: certainly a sign of uncouthness and/or hunger. Also, compare Stephen as teacher in “Nestor,” telling a student to “Turn over” a textbook page to the next. We are turning to the book’s next chapter: after arithmetic and algebra, geometry. (Trigonometry will follow.) 286.19: “Problem ye ferst:” in standard school order, geometry follows algebra. 286.19: “aquilittoral dry ankle:” since a littoral is the intermediate zone between high and low tide, it makes a kind of sense that one could walk along it and keep the ankles, though not necessarily the feet, dry. 286.19: RM 2: “INGENOUS:” naïve, like Shaun/Kev, who is the one, in the adjoining main text, “With his primal handstoe in his sole salivarium” (.20-1), a sucker, sucking his thumb; “LIBERTINE:" the immoral free-thinker, like Shem/Dolph, who, likewise in the adjoining main text, will make his brother complicit in “Concoct[ing] an equoangular trillitter,” thus, because it’s their mother’s pubic delta, will teach the former to be “vicewise” (29). 286.21: LM 3: “The boss’s bess bass is the browd of Mullingar:” besides (McHugh) Bass Ale sold at the Mullingar Inn, the town of Mullingar is known for its milk cows – here producing Bossie’s best. 286.22: “trillitter:” A. L. P.: three letters 286.23-4: “mythametical tripods:” the Holy Ghost is the third member of the Trinity. Perhaps as well an allusion to the magical walking tripods of the Iliad 286.29: “easiest off kisshams:” expression is more familiar to me as “as easy as kiss-my-hand.” Also, “ham:” “kiss my arse.” 286.30: “Oc:” common Irish expression. 286.30: LM 4: “jumeantry” is likely prompted by “Sem” in the adjoining main text. Again, Shem was the original Semite. 286.30: “mud, son:” medicine 286.31-287.1: “Oglores, the virtuoser prays, olorum!” “Glorious,” interrupted by narrator Fn.2: “trouveller:” French trouver, to find; troubadour. A “trouvaille” is a lucky find 287.4: “Deva:” in “Lycidas,” with its “wizard streams,” Milton’s name for the River Dee 287.7: “Anny liffle mud:” contrast the creation of Adam, out of “dust.” This time around, the creation of Eve comes first. Women, in FW, are liquid. 287.8: “Amnium:” as in amniotic fluid, released in childbirth 287.9: “alp:” Alp – mountain 287.9-10: “a howlth on her bayrings:” Howth, overlooking Dublin Bay, with its semicircular outline 287.10: “Gu it!:” Gut!” – German: Good! Also “Go it!” – Keep it up! (Occurs in this sense in “Circe.”) 287.10-19: “bayrings…too:” I think that among the usual other things (making a triangle, for one) the two are drawing the outline of a human face: two eyes (“0”s) side by side, then a third “0” lower down makes the mouth. Starting at 304.5, Dolph will say that he has been made unconscious either by being knocked out or by staring at the triangle and going into a trance – exactly what happens to Bloom in “Oxen of the Sun.” The altered state begins at line 20. 287.15: “olfa:” pronouncing “alpha” this way turns alpha into omega; the word as spelled out goes from omega to alpha. Followed by “ah! O!” (.15-6) 287.15: “isle of Mun, ah!:” the Isle of Man is also called Mona. 287.15-7: “Mun…odrer:” O Hehir says “Mun” = urine. “Odrer” = ordure. Augustine: “We are born between piss and shit.” Creation, whether divine or human, is an act of sin. 287.17: “husk, hisk, a spirit spires:” “husk” is a common term for a body after the spirit has left it – i.e. “spired” into the spirit world – which, at least approximately, is what’s happening here. 287.18-9: “meager suckling of gert stoan:” i.e. negligible offspring of heroic parent. “Gert stoan” = Scots version of “great stone.” The most important “great stone” in the Bible is the one on which the arc of the covenant is placed. 287.20-8: “venite…amplecti:” informs us that FW, founded on Bruno and Vico, is being written in Paris, near the Seine, with its left and right banks. Brendan O Hehir notes the following: 1. that “chartula liviana” is charta liviana, (.21), “2nd of 5 grades of papyrus in Imperial Rome, a high quality, used for literary texts; named for Livia wife of Augustus.” (Also, of course, the Liffy, FW’s other river); 2. that “Jordani et Jambaptistae” encompasses Jordan and John the Baptist (who, of course, baptized Jesus in the Jordan River); 3. that “eadem quae ex aggere fututa fuere” (.25-6) and “iterum inter alveum fore fututa” (.26) translate as, respectively, “the same which had been fucked from the embankment” and “again will be fucked among the riverbed.” 287.28-9: “when him moved he would cake their chair:” when, as moved, seconded, and passed, he would take the chair. A ceremonial formality among convivial, often bibulous, men’s clubs Fn. 1: “Will you walk into my wavetrap? Said the spiter to the shy:” link is to Dolph’s temptation of Kev, definitely the “shy” (hesitant) one in this transaction, as spider to fly. Also, “wavetrap:” a wave trap, around in Joyce’s time, was a device to minimize radio interference. Fn. 4: “Basqueesh:” Baksheesh: bribe or kickback demanded in the Middle East 288.2: “bronze mottes:” bold-as-brass girlfriends. (“Mots” is the spelling given in “Wandering Rocks.”) Like an epistolary Cyrano, he is, in exchange for money (“a dillon a dollar” (288.1)) from tongue-tied college boys, writing lovey-dovey letters to their girlfriends in their name. The linked footnote (Fn. 1: “An ounceworth of onions for a pennyawealth of sobs”) indicates that his writing has the desired effect of jerking sentimental tears. 288.3: “tingling tailwords:” loveletter valedictions meant to excite the recipient. Martha Clifford’s letter to Bloom includes an example. 288.4-5: “cunctant that another would finish his sentence for him:” at the same time, he played it cute. His obscenity was a matter of innuendo and double entendres (“cunt” in “cunctant,” for instance; Bloom has included that word in letters to both Molly and Martha Clifford), counting on his listeners to fill in the blanks. All the while, he’d nervously, but not guiltily, pretend to be “so prim” (.6). 288.5. “he druider:” “he’d rather,” with overtone of American expression “druther” 288.5: “eggways:” edgewise – i.e., sideways, from the corner of the mouth, here for his erotic insinuations 288.5-6: “don’t say nothing:” given the context, this sounds as if it’s coming from one of Joel Chandler Harris’ tricksters – Brer Rabbit or Brer Fox – in the Uncle Remus stories. 288.6: “ordinailed ungles:” ordained (presumably as clergy) uncles. Also, ordinal numbers, as opposed to the cardinal numbers (286.13) of his arithmetic lesson; examples follow at .9-10. 288.7: “trying to undo with his teeth the knots made by his tongue:” a version of “biting his tongue” – he’s said too much already and makes himself stop. Probably also an allusion to Alexander and the Gordian knot, which was tied to the pole, a.k.a. “tongue,” of a cart. Also “tonguetied” 288.8: “math hour:” in school, the hour of the day spent on math lessons 288.11: “bag from Oxatown:” Oxford bags: fashionable trousers for young men 288.13: ”in point of feet, when he landed:” like Eveline’s Frank, he “landed on his feet.” Certainly true of St. Patrick, one of the personages here, who “converted it’s nataves” (.14) 288.14: “saved and solomnones:“ saints and sages. (Saints are automatically “saved” – in heaven; Solomon was a sage.) 288.18-21: “to put off the barcelonas…and kiss on their bottes…as often as they came within bloodshot of that other familiar temple:” take off their hats (Borsalinos) and make a low bow – low enough to kiss their own boots – when in sight of a church. (Some pious Catholics make a practice of crossing themselves when passing a church.) 288.20: “kiss on their bottes (Master!):” butts: American slang for arse. The Irish are commanded to show deference to their betters, whether (“Gratings, Mr Dane!” (.19)) Dean Swift or Danish conquerors, either by hat-removing or butt-kissing or both. “Bottes (Master!):” a backwards “masturbates.” Presence of Swift, who insinuates the word into the beginning of Gulliver’s Travels, probably exerts an influence. 288.20-1: “within bloodshot:” within sight (with bloodshot eyes); within gunshot range. Perhaps recalls “Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes,” from American Battle of Bunker Hill 288.22: “tristar:” in context (Patrick’s conversion of natives) shamrock, the trefoil. See next entry. 288.22: “hattrick:” three goals in hockey, soccer, etc. – another group of three 288.24: “galloroman cultous:” according to one version, Patrick was a captive in France – Gaul – when a vision commanded to bring the "-roman" religion to Ireland. Hence, a Gallo-Roman cultus 288.24: “prevailend up to this windiest:” prevailing winds 288.25: “beforeaboots:” play on thenabouts, thereabouts. Here, it means “hithertofore, more or less.” 288.25: “landhavemiseries:” Michael Davitt: the land system has “made Ireland a land of misery.” 288.28: “moss hungry:” Irish ate moss during the Famine. Fn. 1: “An ounceworth of onions for a pennyawealth of sobs:” a pennyweight is 1/20th of an ounce. A penny can be unit of either British or American currency. Here, linked to “dollar” (.1), it probably plays off of the double sense – money, weight - of “pound.” A British penny would be worth 1/240th of a pound. Also, of course, onions cause tears. Fn. 4: “When all them allied sloopers was ventitillated in their poppos and, sliding down by creek and veek, stole snaking out to sea:” as McHugh notes, Patrick’s expulsion of the snakes. Linked to “the Lady Eva, in a tan soute of sails” (.14-5): the snakes, having done their worst with Eve, are sneaking away. (The suit of sails belongs to the boat, not Patrick.) Also, the repulsed and retreating French naval invasion at Bantry Bay, 1796. Wikipedia: “Contrary weather and enemy action forced this expedition to withdraw.” The “sloopers” (sloops), windblown and peppered with grapeshot (“ventitillated,” in two senses) in their (rear) poop decks (“poppos”), steal sneakily “out to sea” from “creek and veek.” Accounts record that the fleet was scattered by adverse winds, and that some of the ships were sloops. “Snaking:” sneaking: of a later French naval defeat in 1798, Roger Casement, himself involved in a similarly ill-fated expedition, wrote that the commanding officer’s abandonment of his Irish allies was a “disgrace.” Fn. 5: ”cinnamondhued:” Chinamen too. (Compare 6.18.) Also, redskins: by contrast, English tourists, described in “Wandering Rocks,” are “palefaces.” The Irish, by comparison – the “nataves” being converted in the linked passage (.16-8) are proverbially ruddy. Compare 378.33 and note. 288.28-299.1: “hold ford:” hold hard 289.1: “healing:“ hearing 289.1: “old weights:” old ways 289.2: “prence:” pence: one of the weights and measures introduced at the time; also Peter’s pence 289.2: “prence di Propagandi:” P.P.: Parish Priest. Also, see McHugh. 289.3: “rock:” punning on Peter’s name, “rock” in both Aramaic and Latin, Jesus established him as the rock on which the church was to be built. He was the original (see previous) official prince of propaganda. 289.4: “allsods:” “Ould Sod:” sentimental emigrant term for Ireland 289.5: “esoupcans:” Incorporates French soupcon, a little bit, with soup cans – not so much tinned soup as the vats in a soup kitchen. As such, adumbrates “famine soup” or “famine stew,” the thin potato gruel (hence “queen’s pottage” (.5) – French potage plus “potato”) given to the Irish during the Famine, sometimes on the condition of conversion to the Church of England; the gist here is that not all the soup in the world could induce them to abandon their faith. 289.5-6: “allfinesof greendgold:” refined gold. (Perhaps – although Oxford editors don’t flag it – there should be space between “allfines” and “of.”) First “d” adds greed to the mix. 289.6: “greendgold:” green and (“-end-”) gold: Irish colors. Given emigrant theme, may also be relevant that greenback dollars and gold coins signify American wealth. Also, according to Mink, “The Jholung goldfields are on its [the Indus river] up [upper] reaches.” See next entry. 289.6. “Indus:” either West or East Indies (although “Hindustan” sounded with "Indus” points to the latter); Columbus famously believed that America was India. Although both Indies were synonymous with fabulous riches, the point here is that neither could tempt Irish natives to abandon their faith. (Equally-oppositely, this worship is both pre-Patrick ("ophis workship" (.7), worshiping snakes) and post-Patrick ("twice on sundises" (.8). Compare next entry.) 289.7: “to steeplechange back:” to backslide, or rather back-flip - here in matters of religion: a Steeplechase includes a lot of jumping. Again, whatever the temptations, they will not abandon the faith. 289.8: “twice on sundises:” phrase: once a day and twice on Sundays – schedule for church or chapel attendance 289.9: “beam slewed cable:” radio replaced telegraphy, especially as transmitted by the Atlantic Cable. Compare next entry. 289.9: “live wire:” literally, a loose and active (therefore dangerous) electrical wire – e.g. a “cable.” Figuratively, any especially energetic or boisterous person 289.9-10: “Derzher,...sin righthand son:” overtones from Apostle’s Creed: “Jesus, his only son, our Lord…sitteth on the right hand of the Father Almighty.” “Derzherr” includes “Herr,” Lord; the linked Fn. 2 has “spirits.” I suggest this passage combines the fall of Lucifer (note “sin”) with the descent of Jesus to Earth. 289.10: “Funkling outa th’Empyre:” sparks (“funk:” German for spark) coming out of a pyre 289.11. “having listed curefully to the interlooking:” Camp Interlochen, in Michigan, broadcasting musical performances over the (see .9 and note) radio since 1930; concerts were re-broadcast in Europe. (The original of this passage was published in 1928, without the “interlooking.”) Joyce enjoyed listening to American radio. 289.13: “apostrophised:” all five of the following names are given apostrophes. 289.14-7: “they…let drop…coal on:” “they” is apparently the “them” of .6 – the Irish people, converted by Patrick. “Let drop” in the sense of mentioned in passing. Unclear to me whether “coal on” is a version of what they said (coal is also dropped, down coal chutes; see note to .17) or a colon pointing to it. For the whole sequence, compare 244.17-8. 289.15: “as a doombody drops:” as a doomed/condemned man is hanged (at the “drop”) 289.16: “eitherways:” otherwise 289.17: “coal on::” putting coal on the fire, which (“Byrne’s and Flamming’s” (.13)), burns and flames; see second note to .10. Also, colon - the unusual and incongruous ":" following "coal on." (I wonder whether one or the other other traces to an error between Joyce and his transcriber.) Also, again, compare 244.17-8. 289.18: “gigglehouse:” slang for madhouse 289.19: “missions for mades to scotch the schlang:” sounds like a Catholic woman’s organization – something like the Irish “Children of Mary,” bent on doing God’s work. Thanks to Patrick, scotching snakes in Ireland would be pretty redundant, but not so when it comes to putting an end to scandal/slander: compare ALP’s showing up at 102.17 to “crush the slander’s head.” Doubtless pertinent that (“schlang”) “schlong” is slang for penis 289.19: “leathercoats:” perhaps letter-cards, term for either postcards or a semi-sealed "petit bleu" (see 458.20) 289.20: “magdies:” Magdalenes 289.23: “saving his presents:” “saving your presence” means with all due respect; no insult intended 289.23: “onefriend:” once-friend: former friend, hence unfriend 289.24: “Shaughraun:” Gaelic for vagabond or imp of mischief 289.24-290.14: “but to return…but, seigneur!:” reverts to 288.13-4, this time in order to follow the story of the woman involved in the exchange 289.26: “Hotel des Ruines:” Rouen? In 1925 Joyce stayed in several hotels in Rouen and vicinity; what with weather and health, he found it pretty ruinous (Ellmann (1984), p. 572). (Compare 283, Fn. 2 and note.) 289.27-8: "Ides of Valentino’s:” obvious? Valentine’s Day falls on the Ides of February. 289.28: “laid her batsleeve:” compare “Circe”’s version of “The Dance of the Hours,” where the “twilight hours,” as elegant and fadée seductresses, are dressed in “grey gauze with dark bat sleeves.” (Examples are on Google Video: the effect is pretty vampish.) 289.28-9: “Idleness, Flood Area, Isolade, Liv’s lonely daughter:” see note to 261.19. Apparently another location (compare Stephen’s self-orientation in Portrait, chapter one, Kevin’s in 605.4-605.12) expanding concentrically outward: I, area, island, the Irish Sea of Lir’s lonely daughter in “Silent O Moyle” Fn. 1: “That is to sight, when cleared of factions, vulgure and decimating:” warring groups in Irish “faction-fighting.” In context, “decimating” probably retains original meaning: the killing of ten percent – a fraction - of a given group of soldiers. Linked to “still hold ford [hard] to their healing and” (288.28-289.1), the sense is that the ordinary people are united in their faith: they still “byleave in the old weights,” believe in the old faith (also ways) if – a big if – you don’t count all the blood spilled in fighting over which version is the true one. Fn. 2: “They just spirits a body away:” language of séances. It was commonplace at the time to compare spirit visitations to radio waves – hence the link to “beam slewed cable” (.9). Fn. 4: “Dump her:” linked to “coal on.” A “dumper” is a mechanical apparatus for dumping coal. Fn. 6: “Do he not know that walleds had wars. Harring man, is neow king. This is modeln times:” Walls have ears. (And settlements put up walls because they’ve experienced external threats during wars.) “Harring man:” a hairy man: a cave man, a mammal, evolutionarily supplanting (because it’s now “modeln times”) the age of reptiles: the link is to “reptile’s age” (.25). Allusion to ("Harring man") Sir John Harington, proverbial inventor of the toilet and therefore a force for (“modeln”) modern progress. (Glasheen finds him elsewhere in FW but not here.) Also Esau, “a hairy man” in the biblical text, as opposed to the “smooth man” Jacob. “Neo” and “new” imbedded in “neow” confirm the “modern times” spin. 290. 1-2: “rose world trysting:” “Rose-world” = Rosamond, paramour of Henry II; their “trysting”s were in the lovenest (“lovenext” (.15)) of Hollywood. (Rosamond’s last name was Clifford; in Ulysses, Bloom’s romantic correspondent is named Martha Clifford – getting, thinks Bloom, her “roses,” menstrual period - and writes “world” for “word.”) 290.5: “old time:” i.e. before the late-17th century adjustment of the calendar, officially from “Old Style” to “New Style” 290.7-8: “synchronisms:” the old men are synchronizing their watches. The change from Old Style to New Style (see .5 and note) also involved synchronizing. 290.8: “seven sincuries later:” seven centuries after “4:32:” (.5), that is (see McHugh) Patrick’s arrival in 432, totaling A.D. 1132. 290.13: “if:” structurally, parallel with the “if” as at 289.26 – only to be indignantly interrupted before the sentence can be completed 290.14-5: “as she yet will fearfeel:” see next entry. Anticipates ALP’s “my cold mad feary father” (628.2) 290.15-6: “coolcold douche:” warm bath replaced by cold shower. A cold douche is proverbially a wet blanket, a sobering spoiler-of-fun. General sense, which will run through the next 30-40 lines, is that Tristram-type is transformed into (return of) King Mark-type, who with combination of power and priestcraft (re)claims Iseult and the other young lovelies of Ireland. “Coolcold” includes “coocoo:” the dove forecasting the landing of the (old) Noah; also, inevitably, cuckold: Mark is one. On a literal level, it makes sense that someone washing in with the Irish Sea’s “saltwater” (.16) would be cold; compare the “My cold mad feary father” (628.2) of ALP’s return to that sea. 290.16: “totterer:” he totters because he’s old. Reverse-echoes “toddler.” 290.16: “four-flights-the-charmer:” the expression “Third time is the charm” appears in “Circe.” 290.16: “when saltwater he wush him these iselands:” compare Stephen in “Telemachus:” “All Ireland is washed by the gulf stream.” 290.16: “Iselands:” Iceland, icy Ireland 290.19: “Multalusi:” Bog Latin for “Myself.” 290.19-20: “vartryproof…would it wash?” In American underworld slang, a “watertight” alibi is one that can’t be discredited; “will it wash?” means, Will this story stand up? – for instance in court 290.19: “a vartryproof name:” one example of a waterproof name would be Macintosh. 290.20: “cheek white:” compare, for instance, 185.11-2. Throughout FW, white cheeks often signify innocence, real or affected, blushing the opposite. 290.21-2: “washawash tubatubtub and his diagonoser’s lampblack, to pure where they were hornest girls:” from baptism to last rites, a.k.a. extreme unction. (Extreme unction was administered with olive oil, also used in lamps.) Also, Diogenes-like, he’s using a lamp – perhaps a dark lantern, prototype of the flashlight – to diagnose whether they’re pure or whores. See next entry. 290.22: “where hornest girls:” OED gives 1889 as the first occurrence of “horny” meaning libidinous. (I’d say that the character of Horner in Wycherly’s Restoration play The Country Wife suggests that it goes a lot farther back than that). Compare the overtone of whore in “where:” were they pure and honest or whorey and horny? Also, equal-oppositely, “honest” – i.e. chaste – girls. By this point, Patrick has become a lecherous priest, for instance fondling (“foundling” (291.14)) yet another, second Eliza (the first was at 289.26); compare Daddy Browning, with his two Peaches (65.25-6) while pretending to be safeguarding their chastity. 290.22: “her in:” Erin 290.23: “par jure:” perjure 290.23: “il you plait:” he (il)/I plait with you / plight my troth. Language of marriage. Also, of course, “s’il vous plait.” 290.25: “come messes, come mams:” come misses, come ma’ams: i.e. both unmarried and married women – all the “mavourneens” in their “plurible numbers” (.24) 290.27: “winebakers:” bread and wine of the Eucharist. See next entry. 290.27: “Lagrima:” given “winebakers,” this is surely an allusion to “Lachryma Christi,” tears of Christ, a famous, and, certainly, (“oldest ablished firma” (.26-7)) old and established, Italian wine. Also, the old established firm he represents is the Catholic Church. 290.28: “craft ebbing:” German kraft = power. Given the Krafft-Ebbing allusion, an insinuation of impotence – he’s old and tired and can’t service all those women. Also, his (seagoing) craft is receding with the ebbing tide. Fn. 2: “Jilt:” a jilt is fickle, flirtatious woman – here linked to a flirt whose “semicupiose eyes” are “brightening.” Fn. 6: “Miss Dotsh:” again: sea-going Tristram and homebound Issy sometimes communicate in Morse code – he in dashes, transmitting the Morse for “T,” she in dots, signaling “I.” “Dotsh” combines dot and dash. 291.1: “Unic bar None:” Unique, bar none, but also – see note to 290.28 – a virtual eunuch, impotentized by age 291.2: “ship me silver!:” “Shiver me/my timbers!” with an overtone of Long John Silver: character and expression both appear in Treasure Island. Appropriate for (“Saint Yves…Landsend cornwer” (.1-2)). Cornish setting; Treasure Island is set in southwest England. 291.4: “flat as Tut’s fut:” cf. 196.6: “went futt,” fizzled out – or, given the context, died. He’s as used up as King Tut. “Flatfoot:” aside from the condition of flat feet, American slang for policeman 291.5: “given the bird:” Mary, impregnated by a dove; compare Ulysses 1.585, 3.162, and compare .6 and note. 291.5: “peggy:” aside from reviving Peg-of-my-Heart (290.3), “Peggy” is a nickname for Margaret or Marge, Issy’s lower-class looking-glass double. 291.5-6: “inseuladed as Crampton’s peartree:” See McHugh. Mink suggests that Joyce may have confused the Crampton’s peartree with the monument. Sounds reasonable to me. Surely it was the monument, not the tree, that everyone (“inseuladed”) insulted. 291.6. “she sall eurn bitter bed by thirt sweet of her face!” combines Adam’s curse with Eve’s. The “bitter bed” is the bed of childbirth, where the woman is sweating in agony. “Sall”= Sally, a nickname for Sarah, who gave birth at an advanced age. Glasheen notes the repeated pairing of Sarah and Sally. 291.7: “tomthick and tarry:” Tommy Atkins and Jacky Tar: UK soldier and sailor 291.8: “subsequious ages of our timocracy:” Vico’s third stage, sub-obsequious, timid, democratic: Joyce’s rabblement. Finnegan’s first name is Tim. 291.9: “mirrorable gracewindow’d hut:” miserable hut; grass hut. One definition of “grass widow” is a woman pregnant with an illegitimate child. Given Gaelic’s l/r interchange and “mirror-,” we’re probably also sanctioned to read “glass window.” 291.9: “till the ives of Man:” till the Ides of March 291.10: “O’Kneels and the O’Prayins:” they are kneeling and praying. 291.11: “hollyboys:” “Holyboys:” ironic nickname for Norfolk Regiment: during the Crimean War: some of its soldiers sold their Bibles for drink. As “holy boys,” the phrase appears in “Cyclops” in a sardonic allusion to the Irish clergy. Kneeling and praying (see previous entry) and (“O’Hollerins” (.11)) hollering are the sort of activity you’d expect from the Holy Joes at a revivalist prayer meeting. 291.12: “kickychoses:” quelchechoses; kicky/kicking shoes 291.13: “to think of him foundling a nelliza the second:” the link to Fn. 3, with its “drooping dido:” may help: Aeneas, off to found a second Troy (Elizabeth’s England also styled itself a New Troy), left Dido drooping. In any case as a man fondling two women of the same name, a version of FW’s pervasive theme of one man with two women – “sosie sesthers wroth with twone nathandjoe” (3.12), Tristram with the two Iseults, etc. 291.13-4. “nelliza the second, also cliptbuss:” Eliza/Elizabeth, also yclept (named) Bess: as in “Good queen Bess.” In “Scylla and Charybdis” Stephen refers to Queen Elizabeth as “carroty Bess.” Writing when he did, Joyce would not have known that England's future monarch would be Elizabeth II. 291.14: “foundling:” also “founding:” he’s still an explorer like Columbus, founding new settlements and naming them after his monarch. 291.14-5: “(the best was still there if the torso was gone):” if “best” includes bust, this is close to a contradiction. Otherwise, it means something like: She’s lost her figure, but the best of her (which is?) remains. Not impossible that we should read this cattily. 291.16: “my forgetness now was it:” even for this relentlessly run-on fugue, going from 287.28 to 292.32, the absence of punctuation on either side of “now” - whether comma, semicolon, colon, or period, and almost any combination would do - is notably confusing here. In any case, “now was it” begins a prolonged effort, on the forgetter’s part, lasting until “oxers” (.20), to come up with the right place-name. 291.17: “nom de Lieu!:” see McHugh. Including “Waterlow [Waterloo] raid [road] or street” helps French for “place-name” here make sense. 291.20: “merry a valsehood whisprit:” Merry Widow Waltz. Grammatically, continues on from “when he did” (.15). 291.20-1: "merry a valsehood whisprit to manny a lilying earling:” lily ear: i.e. white, pure, innocent ear, into which the practiced seducer is whispering. (Not clear how the same ear could also be "l--ying," but maybe it just takes one to know one.) Also “yearling:” one-year-old sheep, calf, foal, etc. – therefore a very young female. Given (“braceleans” (.21-2)) bracelets in next line and context of “juwelietry,” probably also “earring.” Also, “darling” 291.21-2…24: “miching miching…tuff tuff:” a repeat of FW’s “mishe” – “tauftauf” (3.9-10) 291.22-3: “gaulish moustaches:” garish. Also, Frenchmen – Gauls - at the time were stereotypically depicted with (sometimes elaborate) moustaches 291.25: “lapse:” common term for a woman’s sexual indiscretion 291.25: “for towelling ends:” “towelling:” dwelling? Kind of works if you read “ends” as a verb. 291.26: “oily head:” treated with hair oil used to create patent-leather hairdo popular with fashionable young men of the time 291.26-7: “sloper’s brow:” a sloping brow was considered a sign of mental retardation. In “Circe,” the prodigiously subnormal Punch Costello has a “receding forehead” and is called “Ally Sloper,” a cartoon character of negligible intellect. Maybe not coincidental that Joyce had the opposite – a bulging forehead 291.27: “prickled ears:” 1. Ears pricked up. 2. Ears pricked for earrings. 3. Pig’s ears, pickled, as a dish 291.28: “a wrigular writher:” wriggling writher: a worm or newborn snake. The latter are called “neonates” – hence, possibly, “neonovene babe” (.28). Also, a regular writer Fn. 1: “O hce! O hce!:” linked to “gracewindow’d hut.” If she is a widow, grass or otherwise, she might well be sorrowfully calling out the name of her late husband, HCE Fn. 2: “Six and seven the League:” a price of six shillings and seven pence for the lot. Linked to “burryripe who’ll buy?” – the cry of a street pedlar. Fn. 4: “here’s me and Myrtle is twinkling to know:” Brewer: “If you look at a leaf of myrtle in a strong light, you will see that it is pierced with innumerable little punctures.” (Hence: "twinkling.") "According to the fable, Phaedra…fell in love with Hippolytus…and beguiled the time by piercing the leaves [of a myrtle] with a hairpin.” Fn. 6: "Fennella:" version of Gaelic Fionn-ghuala - "of the white shoulders." Given context, that of Diarmad and Grania, the Irish Tristan and Iseult, probably a connection to "Iseult of the White Hands." Fn. 7: “Just one big booty’s pot:” linked to “towelling ends.” If, as suggested above, “towelling” includes “dwelling,” then that dwelling, “in their dolightful Sexsex home” (.25-6) is a beautiful spot to live. Also, OED cites 1926 as first instance of “booty” as slang for vagina. (Unless I’m much mistaken, today it means a woman’s bottom.) So, again: “dolightful Sexsex.” (McHugh has "beauty spot" as "slang for cunt.") Also, the main text to which this note corresponds is about "Dammad and Groany" (.24), Diarmad and Grania, and in some versions Dermot has a "beauty spot" making him irresistible to women. 292.1-3: “if that is what lamoor that of gentle breast rathe is intaken seems circling toward out yondest (it’s life that’s all chokered by that batch of grim rushers):” life, choked to death by the Grim Reaper. Also, see McHugh: set to the air of “The Bunch of Green Rushes that Grew at the Brim,” Thomas Moore’s song beginning “This life is all chequer’d with pleasures and woes / That chase one another, like waves of the deep.” I suggest that “lamoor,” besides sounding Moore's name (also, almost certainly, “l’amour”) is la mer, the sea (compare .18: “á la Mer”) its waves, as in the tidal “vicus of recirculation” (3.2-3) out yonder, circling back to the (“life:”) Liffey, its course impeded by a river mouth choked with green rushes. “Rathe” can be an (archaic) adverb as well as adjective – eagerly as well as eager. Comparing sea surface to a breast is a poetic commonplace, e.g. Yeats’ “the white breast of the dim sea,” quoted in “Telemachus.” 292.5-6: “diorems…roundshows:” dioramas, cycloramas – anticipated by “circling” (.2) 292.6-7: “utterly exhausted before publication:” the writing was tired well before it ever saw print. Not a recommendation 292.5-6: “improving:” in Victorian sense of morally uplifting 292.7: “indiapepper edition:” India paper is the thin but opaque paper often used in Bibles and other bulky books squeezed into one volume. Also, pepper imported from the East Indies 292.7-8: “are for our indices:” are any indication 292.9: “pastripreaching:” the past repeating itself 292.13-28: “An you could peep…boredom:” “An:” if. A surgeon’s account of the inside of the subject’s head. A detailed rendering of one of Joyce’s many eye operations is about to follow, and the conceit at work is apparently that, since the eyes are windows to the soul, an eye incision will expose the inner workings of the mind. The usual drug for these operations was ("scoppialamina" (183.1)) scopolamine, a hypnotic whose administration, I suggest, began taking effect with the fugue state beginning at 287.18. Seeing “pharahead into faturity” (.19), we can observe the mental workings – the brain processes – producing FW, which Joyce sometimes promoted as a prophetic book, seeing far ahead into the future, albeit perhaps a future as fatuous as the present. 292.13: “cerebralised saucepan:” cerebral brainpan. “Celebrated” because that of a famous author, similar to Joyce/Shem: compare 421.19, 21. 292.14: “house of thoughtsam:” center of thoughts – again, the head, holding the brain 292.15: “decontaminated:” the surgeon before the operation. The reader/scrutinizer needs to be decontaminated too – but of what? Samuel Beckett, defending Work in Progress: “And if you don’t understand it, Ladies and Gentlemen, it is because you are too decadent to receive it.” There is a kind of Adamic ideal, only fitfully comprehensible to the fallen post-Babel world, behind the language of FW. 292.16: “convolvuli:” “convolutions of the grey matter” (“Eumaeus”); the term “convolutions” was (still is) widespread in descriptions of the brain. Exploring the mind, we are probing the brain. Also, “convolvulus:” night-blowing convolvulus: moon-flower, so named because it opens nightly to moonlight; also, there’s the “convolvulus moth;” both can be said to “search lighting” (.18). (In retrospect, 212.15’s “a moonflower and a bloodvein” may also mean “head and heart.”) 292.17: “longa yamsayore:” along of yesteryear, days of yore: peering into his brain, we’re surveying the litterage of remembered experiences – and, because the past is prologue and Viconian cycles repeat, the future (“faturity” (.19)) – as well. "Yam" is Malay pidgin for "year." 592.18: “search lighting:” searchlight. Definitely around in Joyce’s day; note (McHugh) pharos (“pharahead”), lighthouse, in next line. The context suggests the searchlights used on the battlefields of WW I; compare next entry. (Also, the bright light of the operating theatre.) 292.18: “beaushelled:” shelled, in combat 292.20: “jazztfancy:” “jazz,” at the time synonymous with African-American music, here with (“pickninnig” (.19)) pickaninny of previous line. 292.20: “novo…place:” New Place, Shakespeare’s home. A Shakespearean passage will accordingly follow (.21: see McHugh) – one from The Tempest, appropriately enough on the subject of flotsam and jetsam. 292.20-1: “stale words whilom were woven with and fitted fairly featly for:” and here’s the man himself, William (“Scylla and Charybdis” has Anne Hathaway remembering him as “Willun”), whose specialty, according to Stephen Dedalus and Robert Greene, was stealing the stale words of others and making them over – they’re “woven” together and “fitted fairly” for new ends. The same is said of the “pelagiarist” “stolentelling” (182.2, 424.35) Shem, and might be said – sometimes was said - of Joyce. In fact, I suggest that this sequence in general is implying that, in writing FW, Joyce is doing with words what Shakespeare did in his day. See next entry. 292.22: “faustian fustian:” for example, he’s stealing this pun on “Faustian:” In Marlowe’s, play, Dr. Faustus is several times called “Master Fustian” or “Doctor Fustian.” And, of course, there’s the tradition that Shakespeare was really Marlowe. 292.25: “hark back to lark:” McHugh notes “Hark, Hark, the Lark;” I would add that the author is, again, Shakespeare. 292.27: “half a sylb, helf a solb, holf a salb onward:” not off base to say that Joyce wrote FW syllable-by-syllable (if not, indeed, letter by letter) 292.29-30: “gogoing of whisth to you sternly how:” countering the alarming contention that no one has the right to silence someone, reader or writer: going to sternly tell you to “whist!” – hush 292.30-1: “Platonic…yearlings:” according to A Vision, a Platonic year is 36,000 years. The hypnagogic state induced by scopolamine (see 304.3 and note) can make the patient feel, in the words used to describe Bloom’s similar experience in “Oxen of the Sun,” that “the soul is wafted over regions of cycles of generation.” 292.31: “you must, how, in undivided reawlity draw the line somewhawre):” Blimpish stage-English accent: let’s not get carried away with all this Platonic folderol. Fn. 1: “Where Buickly of the Glass and Bellows pumped the Rudge engineral:” sounds like the name of a pub, where, after all, glasses are filled and pumping of beerpulls goes on. “Rudge engineral:” Red gin? There is such a thing, otherwise known as sloe gin – Boylan’s drink in “Sirens.” 293.1-15: “Coss?...ground:” again, as with Bloom in “Oxen of the Sun,” a spell of hallucinatory semi-consciousness, in Bloom’s case induced by staring steadily at the red triangle on a bottle of Bass Ale. (Compare “that red mass I was looking at” (304.6-7).) Here, the text specifies (.11-2) a carving in lapis lazuli, entitled something like “A View of Dublin,” as the object being concentrated on. We seem to have passed through the looking glass, perhaps at the “soswhitchoverswetch” of .8 (which the Oxford editors have as “so switchoverswetch.”) As usual, overdetermined – plus, again - as outlined on pages 250-259 of my book Joyce and Reality, the sequence includes, over the next twelve pages, an operation for glaucoma. The operation involves a triangular flap of the sclera being cut and peeled back like the dotted triangle of the p. 293 diagram, and when completed, the result looks exactly like (LM 2: “The Key Signature”) a keyhole. In the following pages of these annotations, some stages of this procedure will be indicated with the phrase “eye operation.” Also, “Coss” = because: three dots forming the outline of a downward-pointing triangle is mathematical symbol signifying “because:” see dotted triangle outline of p. 293’s diagram. 293.1-2: “You, you make what name?:” (.1-2): What is my name and why – and, likewise, why is his his? He is coming to, after the operation, and this is the first question to get settled - who he is, as opposed to who his brother is. 293.5-6: “rickets as to reasons:” rickety in his reasoning 293.11: “in the lazily eye of his lapis:” eye operation. Joyce’s eyes were blue (lapis lazuli). “Lazy eye,” amblyopia, can be caused by wearing an eyepatch. (Also by alcoholism: see 545.10.) 293.11-2: illustration situated between lines 11 and 12: this is what the finished picture will eventually look like. It will not be completed until 296.27. Steps, beginning with Euclid’s Proposition 1 (Joyce has changed the letters from the usual a, b. c., etc.) as follows. 1. Using straightedge, draw the line ά – λ (293.18-294.3). 2. Using compass, describe a circle with center ά (“Olaf”) alpha (294.8) and radius λ (“lambtail”) lambda (294.9: 294.8-10). 3. Using compass, describe a second circle with center λ (“Luccan” (295.20)) and radius ά (“Allhim” (295.20)). 4. Name the two points of intersection between the two circles. Here they are π and P (296.4-10. 5). Using straightedge, join the points A – π and π – L (296.22-30). (Further steps in Euclid will prove that the resulting triangle is equilateral.) At this juncture, the exercise will take a departure: two additional dotted lines will be inscribed (296.25), one from ά to P, the other from P to λ, making for a second triangle, on the lower half, and ά and λ will be renamed Aά and λL. 293.12-3: “dozedeams…dewood:” “deze” and “doze” for “these” and “those” were comical signatures of a working-class New York accent, especially associated with Brooklyn, which had a large number of Irish immigrants. 293.12: LM 1: “Bones” would seem to go with the “darkies” of line 13: “Mistah Bones” was a fixture of blackface minstrel shows. Also, slang for dice: the Jacob and Esau wrestling-in-the-womb story compared to a tumble of the dice 293.16-7: “alljawbreakical expressions:” all jawbreakers, all jawbreaker-like expressions. “Jawbreaker” is slang for long, difficult word – “maryamyriameliamurphies” (.11), for example. The diction after this point becomes notably monosyllabic, for a while. 293.17-8: “old Sare Isaac’s universal of specious aristmystic unsaid:” perhaps Einstein, indirectly alluded to with “Ulme” (.14 – his birthplace was Ulm) could, with some leeway, be said to have made Newton’s calculations about space “specious.” He certainly made them “old.” 293.18: “aristmystic:” Newton was both a genius when it came to matters of arithmetic and deeply mystical. (He spent his last years working on a decoding of Revelation.) 293.21: “Eve takes fall:” “take the fall” is underworld slang for accepting the blame for a crime, not necessarily one’s own. Historically, Eve has taken the fall for the Fall, but see 296.7 and note. (Also, simply: evening, falling, paired with (.20) dawn, rising) 293.22: “Aiaiaiai:” four “Ai”s, Greek for Alas. “Ai” is mythically inscribed on the hyacinth, commemorating the death of Apollo’s lover. 293.23-294.1: “(lens your dappled yeye:” Joyce worked on FW with the help of a magnifying glass. (Later, it will be “telescopes” (295.12).) Also, eye operation: the surgeon is asking him to lend not his ears but his eyes (“dappled:” doubled: both of them). “Dappled” probably refers to macular degeneration: compare 251.26-7 - the “macula”sounded in a reader’s ”Smacchiavelluti,” in the vicinity of “patch,” “Soot,” and “spot.” Fn. 1 “Draumcondra’s Dreamcountry where the betterlies blow:” link is to someone having “dozedeams” (.12) – one of those hypnogogic doze-dreams, where beside (McHugh) butterflies, the buttercups blow, as in blossom; perhaps as well, like FW’s dreams, it consists of better lies than we tell ourselves in the waking world. Fn. 2: “toadhauntered:” haunted by death. (German tod, death.) “Secret stripture:” the footnote’s link is to (“Sare Isaac’s,”) Sir Isaac Newton, with his “universal of specious aristmystic unsaid” (.17-8); again, Newton spent his last years at work decoding what he considered the mystical truths hidden in the Book of Revelation. 294.2-3: “strayedline AL:” see figure at p. 293.12 and note. This shows, again, that they have a straightedge as well as compasses (295.27) – the two, and only two, requirements for classical geography. In Book VII of Paradise Lost, God designs Creation with a pair of “golden compasses;” in a monotype entitled “Newton,” Blake, mockingly, has Newton (here as “old Sare Isaac’s” (293.27)) using a pair of compasses to try to figure out the universe. 294.3: “Fig., the forest:” i.e. Figure the First - Figure One 294.3-4: “from being continued:” continuation of a narrative which ended with “To be continued” 294.4: “Lambday:” if, as I believe, we’re tracking historical time as well as space, Genesis to Revelation, “Lambday” would be Good Friday/Passover: sacrifice of a lamb; sacrifice of the Lamb of God. See 271.13 and note. The figure on the previous page marked the X-moment of Nativity-to-Easter; note that the four points could just as easily have been connected π to P, then Aά to Lά, making a cross. Also, a (straight) tram line stopping at Lambay (name of a Dublin road as well as an island, although (“anchore”), anchor, (.5)) points to the latter.) See “Makeacakeache” in linked Fn. 1; compare 4.2-3 for similar sound of 1. mating frogs, and 2. traffic. 294.4-5: “Modder ilond there too:” Mother Ireland [is] there too. Compared to Lambay, that would be the larger island - Ireland 294.5-6: “I bring down noth:” as in a magician’s act: “Nothing up my sleeve;” cf. 295.18. Continued with “and carry awe” it becomes the language of a math lesson. Bloom would have called this “musemathematics.” 294.5-6: Now, then, take this in!:” eye operation. First incision. Because glaucoma is caused by excessive fluid pressure on the interior of the eye, the lancet’s penetration, is followed by a gush – here, as “Makefearsome’s Ocean” (.13), later, at 297.17, as “Sluice! Pla!” 294.10: “Allow ter!:” Louder! 294.11: “As round as the calf of an egg!:” eggs are ovoid, but half an egg… Hard-boil an egg, peel it, cut it in half, trace around the circumference, and the result will be a circle, or (.10) “Hoop.” 294.12-3: “discobely:” the Discobolus of Myron is holding a (round) disc. 294.13-4: “After Makefearsome’s Ocean. You’ve actuary entducked one! Quok!:” My thanks to Nuala McNulty for pointing out here that Dublin is on an ("actuary") estuary. Here, it includes ducks, quacking. 294.14: “entducked:” induct/inducted 294.16: “galehus:” “gallus” - a distinctively Irish idiom; see 377.21. Also, jail-house. (GB spelling of “jail” is “gaol.”) 294.17: “Bigdud:” O Hehir says “dud” is Gaelic for “stump, pipe, penis.” 294.17: LM 2: introduction of (“Docetism”) trinitarian dialectic is probably prompted by adjoining main text’s assertion that he and his father are (“Match of a matchness” (.17)) much of a muchness. 204.18: “boudeville:” Buddha. The adjacent LM 2 (see McHugh) concludes with Buddhist terminology. Buddha was certainly (“cropulence” (.22)) corpulent. Followed, at .29, with “Gaudyanna” - Gautama 294.19: “turvku:” turf: anticipates the Russian General’s (“Gorotsky Gollovar’s” (.18)) arse-wiper. Worse, he’s doing it – also smoking Turkish tobacco – in the “precincts of lydias,” presence of ladies. The linked Fn. 2 will, indignantly, call the tobacco “a flagrant weed” - it will certainly be flagrantly fragrant by the time he's finished with it. 294.20: “smukking:” compare “smukklers” (327.1), which in context seems akin to the “smugging” – sexual byplay – of Portrait, chapter one. 294.20: “lydias:” Glasheen calls this an allusion to Lydia Languish. Theatre setting would seem to confirm. She’s certainly the kind of lady likely to be bothered by men smoking in her presence. According to “L’Allegro,” the Lydian mode is soft and effeminate. 294.20-3: “Mary Owens and Dolly Monks seesidling to edge his cropulence and Blake-Roche, Kingston and Dockrell auriscenting him from afurz:” as McHugh notes, all the places named here are on the coast. Gist: the waters are eroding the edge of the land’s (“cropulence”) corpulence. “Mary” probably echoes Latin mare, sea. Also, another sounding of the park scene, with its two girls and three males “auriscenting” him, sniffing him out. (That he’s smoking must help.) Substituting “auri-” for “aura-” would bring in hearing in as well. “His cropulence” is a mock-honorific imitation of, for instance, “his highness.” 294.22: “cropulence:” also “crapulence.” OED: “Sickness or indisposition resulting from excess in drinking or eating;” “Gross intemperance, esp. in drinking; debauchery.” 294.24: “papacocopotl:” given linked Fn. 3’s “blowing off steam” on waking up, includes sense of papa’s (chamber) pot 294.24-5: “(ting ting! Ting ting!):” given proximity of “Dockrell” and “magmasine” (.23, .25), the sound of a shopbell ringing. See also 244.6 and 600.13, with notes. 294.26-7: “But, thunder and turf, it’s not allover yet! One recalls Byzantium.” There’s been a “fall” (.25) but that doesn’t mean things are all over: Rome fell, but on the other hand Byzantium/Constanople survived for a thousand more years. The “One recalls” formula signals pedantic stuffiness; compare Stephen’s parody in “Proteus:” “When one reads these strange pages of one long gone…” Also, what with this chapter’s proliferation of Yeatsian elements, a mention – a “dreaming back” (295.10-1) recall – of Byzantium was probably inevitable at some point. 294.29: “Gaudyanna:” gaudy Anna – ALP. (Obvious?) 294.29-30: “daughter to a tanner:” in some cultures tanning is traditionally considered a degraded profession (smell, working with dead animals – hence the “anmal matter” of the linked Fn. 5); in India, land of ("Gaudyanna") Gautama, the Buddha, tanners were untouchables. William the Conqueror’s mother was a tanner’s daughter; the link to “[anmal] alma mater” may be a clue in that direction. 294.31: “possetpot:” pisspot. Tanners (see previous entry) soak animal skins in urine. Also, under normal circumstances, chamber pots were de facto pisspots - defecation was for the outhouse. Also, oppositely, a posset pot was piece of china-ware for mixing possets - cordials of milk with wine or other alcoholic beverage. As in "Telemachus," one hopes that the two jobs were not done "in the one pot." Fn. 1: “Ex jup pep off Carpenger Strate:” linked to (among other things) directions on how to catch a tram on the “copyngink strayedline” (.2-3) line to “Carpenger Strate,” presumably connected to (Mink, Glasheen) Dublin’s Coppinger’s Row, this has always sounded to me like a cartoon English person helpfully giving directions. (“Just pop around the corner to…Pip pip!”) As usual, Coppinger (“Carpenger”) is associated with children – “kids’ and dolls’ home.” Fn. 3: “Grand for blowing off steam:” linked to (“papacocopotl” (.24)) Popocatepetl, an active volcano. Volcanoes blow off steam, etc. As the sometime mountain HCE, sitting on his pot, he is blowing down, not up. 295.1: “homolocous humminbass:” “humming bass:” usually used in the sense of harmonizing with someone or something in the treble. Google Books has about forty hits for the period 1850-1930. A stretch, but “homolocous” may echo “harmonious.” 295.4: “Shapesphere:” “Sphere:” the Globe. (Shakespeare’s.) Compare next entry. 295.4: “puns it:” Samuel Johnson wrote that for Shakespeare a “quibble” - a pun - was “the fatal Cleopatra for which he lost the world, and was content to lose it.” 295.5: “yules gone by:” expression: years gone by. Also, nostalgic memories of Christmases past, spent with the family, especially (“purr lil murrerof myhind” (.5-6)) Mom 295.7: “Sundaclouths:” Sunday [go-to-meeting] clothes, i.e. the best clothes of the week. The reason that Saturday was the night for taking baths and that Monday was the day for washing. The embedded “clouts” has the opposite meaning: a piece of patchwork cloth, usually a sign of shabbiness. Also, the cloths intended for (“Tate and Comyng” (.8)) Tutankhamen would be a mummy’s winding sheets. 295.8-9: “the ghost in the candle:” from a 1908 encyclopedia of folklore: “ghost candle:” “candles which are kept burning around a dead body, before burial, now said to be used for the purpose of warding off Ghosts.” Occurs in “Telemachus” 295.10-1: “dreaming back:” again, much of this sequence resembles a Yeatsian trance or séance. 295.12. “comeallyoum saunds:" “chameleon sands. Compare Stephen’s memory in “Eumaeus:” “He could hear, of course, all kind of words changing colour like those crabs about Ringsend in the morning burrowing quickly into all colours of different sorts of the same sand.” The term pops up a number of places in Google Books, nowhere with enough specificity to say just what chameleon sands are, beyond the obvious – juxtaposed patches of different-colored sands, perhaps changing color as the sea washes in and out. Also, the sounds of a “come-all-you” (Stephen to his father in Portrait, chapter one: “That’s much prettier than any of your other come-all-yous.”), a traditional Irish song beginning with those words. Oxford editors insert “of” between the two words, adding “communion of saints” to the mix. 295.13: “dromed I was in Dairy:” dromedary. (No idea why.) 295.14: “wuckened up with thump in thudderdown:” falling out of bed while wrapped up in an eiderdown quilt. Either he heard a thunderstorm underway or the thump, in his half-dreaming state, sounded like one. 295.18: “eau…curry:” French oeuf, egg, curried. Presumably because of the egg’s shape, “oeuf” was French slang for “zero;” that’s why “love” means zero in tennis. Curried eggs was/is a popular dish. Eggs, like rabbits and decks of cards, are common props in magic acts. 295.18: “nothung up my sleeve:” part of a stage magician’s patter. Also (see McHugh) as “Nothung,” a sword up one’s sleeve: a concealed weapon 295.19: “mudland Loosh:” Brendan O Hehir has “Loosh” as Gaelic luis, quicken tree and the letter L. (Confusing: “Lucan” (.20) also seems to have L covered. Then again, if λ counts, there ought to be two L’s.) 295.20: “Allhim as her Elder:” Adam, who was 1. all men – all “him”s to Eve, and 2. her elder 295.20-1: “tetraturn:” an advance of one on the “triple turn,” usually the maximum windup for the hammer-throw 295.21: “on all fours:” the same as. Occurs in this sense in “Eumaeus” 295.23: “O:” as with the first line of I.8, vagina as vacancy, as (.24) “umpty” 295.27: “pair of accomplasses:” the compass used in geometry is sometimes called a pair of compasses, presumably because it has two legs. 295.28: “kunst:” cunt, as opposed to a man's dangling "handel." Also, German kunst, art, primarily applies to visual art but can also signify music, for instance by (see next) the German Handel. 295.28-9: “omething with a handel on it:” aside from George Frederic Handel, a man (French “homme”) with a penis. Hence the adjacent LM 2 (“The haves and the havenots: a distinction”). Gist: you prefer women; I prefer men. (It’s probably Kev/Shaun speaking, which would seem to go against type. On the other hand, if he saying he’s a man’s man and Dolph/Shem the opposite, the latter will come across as the effeminate one.) Also, compare the disapproving reference in “Ivy Day in the Committee Room” to those overly deferential to “any fellow with a handle to his name” – that is, a member of the nobility. 295.31-2: “doubling bicirculars, mating approxemetely:” if the eyes are out of focus – if they fail to meet/mate – the result is the double vision of “doubleviewed seeds” (296.1). 295.31: “doubling bicirculars:” bicycles. Goes without saying that tires are round, like the compass-drawn circles? In any case, seen from the side, doubled, two circles – O O 295.32: “mating approxemetely in their suite poi and poi:” see first note to 293.12. The “sweet bye and bye” of the song is heaven, where after death we shall “meet on that beautiful shore.” The spelling of “approxemetely” recalls learning in I.8 that a “proxenete” is a procuress (198.17-22), facilitating a less celestial kind of “mating.” Also, the two peas in a pod of the prankquean episode of I.1; in that case anyway the two indistinguishable individuals were father and daughter. Also, the two circles are eyes: the point where their lines of vision meet produces depth perception, a.k.a. parallax; Joyce’s chronic eye ailments, especially prominent in this sequence, meant that the convergence would never be more than approximate at best. 295.33: “eath the ocher:” each eats the other. (Sexual innuendo? In my youth “Eat me!” was an insult implying the homosexuality of the person addressed – although not, strangely and come to think, of the speaker.) Also earth and ochre/ocher: ochre pigment is made from clays and other earth materials and looks earthy. 295.33: “Lucihere:” Lucifer match, being struck, which is why Shaun/Kev can suddenly “fee where you mea” (.33-296.1), that is see (18th century “s”) what Shem/Dolph means. Also, of course, Lucifer is the fallen angel of light. The match will go out at 297.4 (“Hissss!”), leaving things “dark” (297.15.) Similar play on “Lucifer” match occurs in “Circe.” Fn. 1: “Sewing up the beillybursts in their buckskin shiorts for big Kapitayn Killykook and the Jukes of Kelleiney:” link: continues tanner’s daughter strand of 294.30/Fn. 5: always sewing, here she’s sewing up animal hides. Being “big,” “Kapitayn Killykook”’s belly has burst his buckskin shorts; she’s repairing the damage. Inclusion of Jukes and Kallikaks carries forward the underclass implications of “tanner:” see 294.29-30 and note. Fn. 2: “Say where! A timbrelfill of twinkletinkle:” compare 38.20, “timblespoon,” which pretty clearly draws on the fact, or belief, that the average amount of ejaculate amounts to a thimble, or tablespoon. The “tinkle” in “twinkletinkle,” on the other hand, is schoolgirl slang for urinate. (But then of course Joyce repeatedly associates the sexual with the excremental.) Also, the sound of drinks being poured, accompanied by the host’s “Say when!” Compare “Grace:” “The light music of whisky falling into glasses.” 296.1: “doubleviewed seeds:” he’s seeing double. (As in diagram of 293.) On the other hand, what he’s seeing is in fact already doubled: two circles, two triangles. So which is it? (Is it hot in here, or is it me?) Not the first or last time this issue will arise: in FW’s final showdown, in Book IV, between St. Patrick and the Druid, when the latter sees everything as green, the question will be: is that because, as at for instance 193.10-1, the Joycean seer has early-onset glaucoma, making everything look green, or because the setting is Ireland, and everything really is green? A perennial FW version of, "Is it cold in here, or is it me? 296.1-2: “Nun, lemmas quatsch:” Now, leaving nonsense aside…” Compare 293.16-8. 296.2: “vide pervoys akstiom:” see – vide - previous axiom. Euclid’s Elements begins with five axioms; not clear which one is being referred to here 296.3: “stickmen punctum, but:” something like “blow me, but,” or “call me crazy, but:” in this case: indulge me in this, even if right now it doesn’t seem to make much sense. Also, the two geomaters are marking the (“poinds” (295.33)) points from which the lines will be inscribed. 296.4: “for semenal rations:” for reasons of semen 296.5-6: “capital Pee for Pride down there on the batom:” “capital” in British sense of excellent, super. Pride, of course – first of the seven deadly sins - was why Lucifer fell, to the “batom” (.6). Joyce seems especially conscious of Paradise Lost on this page: see, for instance, the next two entries. 296.6-7: “Hoddum and Heave, our monsterbilker:” the masterbuilder, a mason, built, with a heaving hod. 296.7: “monsterbilker, balked his bawd of parodies:” he was also a masturbator, whose self-pleasurings “balked his bawd of parodies,” cheated his (naturally bawdy) woman of the connubial bliss to which she was entitled by marriage. (Recalls the Blooms of Ulysses.) Also – reversing the usual order – by sinning originally, Adam caused paradise to be lost for Eve. 296.8: “Airmienious:“ Ahriman. Can’t find his antagonist Ormuzd in the vicinity, but LM 1 (see McHugh for translation) would seem to reinforce the theme of polar opposites. 296.9: “mock Pie:” Google Books cookbooks yield two main meanings of “mock pie.” Most prominent: a fruit pie in which, because of shortage of fruit, other ingredients are substituted. Also: A pie baked with fillers – cloth napkins, for instance - so that at the last minute some uncooked ingredient such as raw oysters can be inserted. 296.9. “Pie:” pi 296.9-10: “up your end:” whatever else it means, it’s hard to miss the “Up yours!” here. 296.11-2: “With a geing groan grunt and croak click cluck:” sound of hen laying an egg: groan and grunt following by click and cluck. Compare Ulysses 13.845-9. See next entry, .19-22 and note. 296.12: “trying to make keep peep:” she’s been straining to bring her newborn egg into sight; about-to-be-hatched chick is in turn straining to make “peep peep” sound, with complications from Gaelic’s “P-K split,” much in evidence elsewhere in FW, for instance: her visage is “kink and kurkle” (.12-3), pink and purple with the effort. Perhaps, as well, a manifestation of the naïve Kev’s new knowledge of the facts of life 296.16: “angelous:” Michael, perched “on the top line” (.18), is the angelic one; “Nickel” (.18) Nick, as in Old Nick, the devil, is on the bottom. (They are also singing, tenor and bass, but see next entry.) The juxtaposition surely owes something to the standard depiction (e.g. 559.11-2) of the Archangel Michael defeating Satan, always underneath. 296.18: “top line:” according to Wikipedia, in musical notation the “top line” in scores is actually below the “bottom line.” Coinciding contraries, perhaps 296.19-22: "But, yaghags hogwarts and arrahquinonthiance, it’s the muddest thick that was ever heard dump since Eggsmather got smothered in the plap of the pfan:” continues egg-laying strain. (See .11-2.) Newly laid, he’s contemplating the “muddest thick” from which he’s been “dump”ed – his mother’s insides and the grungy gooiness which accompanied his birth and afterbirth. For “Eggsmather,” compare Molly in “Penelope,” wishing she’s “smathered it” (her discharge) “all over” the face of her gynecologist. (“Smather,” to recklessly plaster something on, shows up in some recent documents, but all of them later than FW, let alone Ulysses.) Both Humpty Dumpty and Cosmic (mother) Egg – hence the capitalization – are in play as well. The “plap of the pfan” where she ends up is presumably a frying pan, frequently (e.g. 183.23-4) an egg’s destination. 296.23-4: “beloved bironthiarn and hushtokan hishtakatsch:” Beloved brothers and sisters. Beginning of a church service, probably low church. 296.24: “hushtokan hishtakatsch:” Robert Heller, in A Wake Newslitter Occasional Paper Number 1, says that this is Hebrew for “to be pierced, to be forgotten.” 296.24-6: “join alfa pea and pull loose by dotties…eelpie and paleale by trunkles.” See 293.12 and note. Drawing of lines ά – P and P – L, A – π and π – L result in the two equilateral triangles. (Intermittent interchangeability of Roman and Greek letters is, well, confusing.) Eel pie was (is?) a popular English dish. (There is also an Eel Pie island in the Thames.) Together, eel pie and pale ale sound like a standard pub grub combo. 296.25: “pull loose:” peruse – “by dotties,” dots, could indicate either Morse or Brail – dubiously significant marks produced by piercings, as elsewhere, notably p. 124. 296.26: “sparematically:” spermatically 296.27: “trunkles. Alow me align:” trunk line: the main line, for rivers, roadways, telephone lines: here, the “top line” (.18) – the unbroken lines of the top triangle – occupied by Michael. 296.27-8: “Alow me align while I encloud especious:” drawing these lines encloses a geometrical space – the triangle. 296.29-30: “And as plane as a poke stiff:” Oxford editors have “pokestiff.” As McHugh notes, “pikestaff” is slang for penis. Compare “Cyclops,” on a hanged man’s erection: “it was standing up in their faces like a poker.” (Same conceit appears in “Circe.”) Allowing for economies of scale (see 297.6), an aroused clitoris, as confirmed by the linked Fn. 5: “The impudence of that in girl’s things!” I.e. how dare a woman, let alone a girl, possess a phallic facsimile inside her girly “things,” her drawers! The object of inquiry, after all, is a vagina. 296.30: “aqua in buccat:” McHugh: water in the mouth. What I’m about to show you – a vagina - will make your mouth water. In “Penelope,” Molly remembers telling Josie Breen enough about her canoodling with Bloom “to make her mouth water.” Fn. 1: “Parsee ffrench:” linked to “batom,” Shelta for policeman: Percy French collected Shelta words. Fn. 2: “I’ll pass out if the screw spliss his strut:” to split the “strut” of a structure – building, ship, etc. – would likely cause it to collapse. Here, linked to sounds (.11-2) of hen groaning and clucking, laying an egg, apparently almost passing out from the strain Fn. 3: “Thargam then goeligum?:” O Hehir: Do you understand Irish? The link is to “keek peep,” and “keek” is Gaelic for “peep.” 297.1-2: “And if you flung her headdress on her from under her highlows:” highlows were short boots. Not clear to me what they were doing atop her headdress (head over heels? heels over head?) but compare Molly, in “Penelope,” remembering when Boylan “turned up my clothes on me,” and compare .8, where a “seam hem” is being “lift”ed. 297.2: “wheeze:” in Ulysses, “wheeze” means something like inside information 297.4: “Fin for fun!:” Among other things Shaun has just ejaculated (“You’ve spat your shower” (.5)) so the fun is over – “Fin”ished. 297.5: “like a son of Sibernia:” sardonic comment on Irish ("Sibernia"/Hibernian) male sexual practice – either masturbation or premature ejaculation. In Stephen Hero, Stephen says that the much-vaunted chastity of Irish men is because, as any father confessor could testify, they “do it by hand.” 297.7: “Pisk!”: Petr Ŝkrabánek says Russian pyska, for “infantile penis.” (Everything is relative: see 296.29-30 and note.) A penis loses volume after ejaculation. (Sorry for the “Duh” factor here.) Hence his “languil pennant” (.6-7), languid penis, after “You’ve spat your shower” (.5). 297.8: “pleats:” skirts can have pleats. (Obvious?) 297.8: “seam hem:”semen. (Also, of course, the seamed hem of her gown) 297.9-10: “(like thousands done before:” compare Stephen in chapter two of Portrait: he “knew that he had yielded to them [Emma’s wiles] a thousand times.” Eternal Feminine as Eternal Temptress 297.10: “fillies calpered:” given “fillies,” “calpered” is probably a portmanteau of “cantered,” “galloped,” and Gaelic capall, horse. (Along, as noted by McHugh, with “capered.”) Passage’s main sense, though, is that men have been guiltily obsessed with female genitalia ever since the Fall. 297.11-14: “the maidsapron of our A.L.P, fearfully! Till its nether nadir is vortically where (allow me aright to two cute winkles) it’s naval’s napex will have to beandbe:” makes some sense if one assumes that a “maidsapron” is just that, a maid’s (scanty) apron, still covering ALP’s lower body from navel to “vortex,” vagina. The lower edge of the apron – its “nether nadir” – marking the vertices of two triangles (vortices are triangular, when represented on a plane surface), of garment and pubis, is on a vertical line with the navel. Navel is apex to other’s vertex. “Apron stage” is probably also present: compare 147.1. 297.13: “two cute winkles:” two attractively (flirtatiously) winkers – that is, winking eyes 297.14: “beandbe:” see note to .32. 297.14: LM 2: Prometheus or the Promise of Provision:” Prometheus the fire-bringer is adjacent to the match-lighting (“And light your mech” (.15-6)) in the main text. 297.14-5: "You must proach near mear for at is dark. Lob.:" given Digger Dialects gloss of "lob" as "arrive," the general sense is that, because it's dark, you have to approach - get very near - to it before you know you're there. 297.15ff: “at is…” Glasheen’s identification of “at is” as Attis is a clue to the proceedings. Kev is being instructed not just to see a vagina, his mother’s, but to make one of his own. The galli (see 377.21 and note), Roman followers of the Magna Mater (as in “eternal geomater” (296.31-277.1)) Cybele, castrated themselves on March 24. Some of the following 15-20 lines records Kev’s alarmed reaction to what is now his, “your,” “muddy old triagonal delta.” (An entry not included in the standard text has him lying on his “rawside.”) 297.16: "Jeldy!:" Digger Dialects (see note to 262.10): Quickly! 297.17: “Waaaaaa. Tch! Sluice! Pla! And their, redneck:” mimics sounds and sights of childbirth. “Redneck:” newborns are often – always? – redfaced. (Compare 589.22-3.) “Pla!” anagram of “ALP.” Also, probably, first (watery) cry of newborn 297.18-9: “Pull the Punkah’s bell:” compare “Master Pules” (166.20) and “puler” (596.25), both meaning “newborn,” probably from “puling” – crying in a childish voice. In “Oxen of the Sun,” the sound of a bell summons Doctor Dixon to assist in the delivery of Mrs. Purefoy’s baby. A Pookah (variously spelled) is a Celtic shape-changer. 297.19: “mygh and thy:” another variant on “mishe mishe to tauftauf” (3.9-10) 297.20-1: “living spit of dead waters:” recalls Bloom’s “Calypso” comparison of the Dead Sea to a “grey sunken cunt,” one that can “bear no more.” “Living spit” is a less common variation of “spitting image,” presumably applied, traditionally enough, to the offspring, the image of the parent. 297.21-2: “discinct and isoplural in its (your sow to the duble) sixuous parts:” I take this as saying that the offspring is female – she has the same “sexual parts” as the mother; it’s the mother, not the father, that she’s the spitting image of – see previous entry. (“Sixuous” may make more sense if you now have two pubic triangles present, not one, by way of a "doubleviwed" seeing (296.1) of the inscribed triangle of page 293.)) The “sow” – the mother, has just been “duble”d, doubled. (As McHugh points out, the “fiho” of line 24 means “girl,” so “fiho miho” = “my girl;” cf. 620.25-6: “And blowing off to me, hugly Judsys, what wouldn't you give to have a girl! Your wish was mewill.”) 297.25: “appia lippia pluvaville:” not to belabor (pun!), but the lower-case here would be fitting for the new junior version of the mother who was given the capital-letter treatment just fourteen lines above. (Could plausibly be either Eden's apple or apple of discord.) Also, Rome’s Appian Way comes with an Appian Viaduct. 297.25-6: “hop the hula, girls!” at the time, the hula meant a dance of licentious, provocative movements. 297.26: “no niggard:” generous, bountiful. 297.27-9: “and why wouldn’t she sit cressloggedlike the lass that lured a tailor?:” young ALP as tailor’s daughter, a frequent FW motif and a variant on the Norwegian captain story of the next chapter, where her two rival suitors are a tailor and a sailor. Perhaps obvious: sitting cross-legged would expose her “usquiluteral threeingles” (.27) in a way likely to lure either. 297.31: “tidled boare:” titled boor: a version of the husband, recalling I.1 and I.2: in the first he has a coat of arms (5.5-12); in the second (31.34) he gets nomingentilised. Also, surely, “bore” in the sense of “boring;” as the male principal will be told at 585.35, “Others are as tired of themselves as you are.” 297.32: “allaph:” A – L – P, here definitely including the (probably lower) triangle of 293. 297.32: “bett und bier:” compare “beandbe” (.14): “bed and breakfast”s, going by that name, were around since before Joyce’s time; so, it seems, was the abbreviation “B&B.” Here A – L – P triangle (“quaran’s“ (.32)) quarrons (see McHugh) is his determined destination. 298.1: “Paa lickam laa lickam:” combines lingam (see second note to .6-7, below) with cunnilingus 298.1: LM1: “Ambages:” McHugh has “ambage” for dark language of concealment. Perhaps, but “ambages,” meaning deliberately circulatory language, seems to me to be closer to the mark for the adjacent “Paa lickam laa lickam, apl lpa! This it is an her. You see her it. Which it whom you see it is her.” (Oxford editors have “her her it” for “her it.”) The word occurs frequently in Augustine. 298.3: “goaneggbetter:” an eggbeater, usually, has two intersecting rotaries: compare illustration at 293.12. 298.5: “so post that to your pape:” so send that to your pope. (From anticlerical Shem/Dolph/Nick) 298.6-7: “And you can haul up that languil pennant, mate, I’ve read your tunc’s dimissage:” naval pennants (hence “mate”) convey messages. Evidently as well, Michael’s tongue (“languil:” lingual; “tunc:” tongue) has been hanging out after what he’s just seen. (In “Cyclops,” a dog has “his tongue hanging out of him.”) 298.6-7: “languil pennant:” given foregoing, a limp penis. “Languil” probably incorporates “lingam,” Kama Sutra term for penis, as remembered in “Circe.” Overall sense: pick up your detumescent dick and fly it from the flagpole, mate - an Irish insult worthy of the “Cyclops” narrator. Also, a sex-change note: excepting naval pennants, pennants are triangular. 298.9-18: “Doll the laziest…themselves:” eye operation. Among other things, describes efforts of seer to achieve correct parallactic perspective between two eyes, one of them “lazy” from want of use (see 293.11 and note) – in other words, to stop seeing double, as with the double-vision image of p. 293, and make true three-dimensional perception possible. Joyce was of course intimately familiar with such matters, if only from having spent time wearing an eyepatch. “Vectorious readyeyes of evertwo circumflicksrent searclhers never film in the elipsities of their gyribouts those fickers which are returnally reprodictive of themselves” (.14-8): the “searclhers” are the two eyes. (Compare, e.g. “gropesarching eyes” (167.17-8)); “film” is the liquid film on the eyeball. (See note to 305.12: LM 1.) Because the orbical orbiting of each is elliptical, both literally and figuratively, there never or almost never was a match of the sort that would be possible with two perfect circles. They cannot quite, as in a stereoscope, match one figure with the exact same figure as seen from a different perspective. (Three-dimensionality would not occur if the image taken in by one eye did not predictably (“reprodictive” (.17)) reproduce – reproductively - that taken in by another.) 298.11: “fiercst:” fierce ("fier") or fiercest. Also proudest, firiest. In American slang, an erection is “angry.” (Fanny Hill includes several expressions along the line of “fiercest erection.”) General sense here is that, as you, mate, have just found out, there’s a big difference, size-wise and otherwise, between a fierce cock and a lazy one. The graphics of line 13, imitating the ˂ ˃ signs of algebra, do their best to illustrate the point. 298.12: “the power of empthood:” both emptiness and umpti-hood (see 13.24, 345.18 and notes), non-existent and infinity – the former because (.8-9, see McHugh) a geometric point has no magnitude, the latter by way of Bruno’s geometry, according to which minimum is maximum. Probably not coincidental that Nicholas of Cusa anticipated Bruno, and that the speaker here is Nick. 298.17: “returnally reprodictive:” “returnally:” shorthand for “eternal return” – that creation, passing through repeating cycles – which is why “fickers,” fuckers, both reproduce and re-predict themselves - is itself eternal. An old idea popularized by Nietzsche; Bruno believed it. 298.19ff: “The logos…:” starting with digit-counting and now into logarithms, the mathematics lesson has continued to advance in the usual order of progression. 298.22-3: “here is nowet badder than the sin of Aha with his cosin Lil:” sex between cousins is, in many cultures, the sin of incest. According to Jewish folklore, Lilith, made at the same time and from the same substance as Adam, would have been much closer kin than Eve, made later from his rib. So: this was the real original sin, than which there is “nowet badder,” nothing worse. “Cosin:” co-sinner; the word “cousin” can signify many kinds of kinship. 298.25: “redtangles:” rectangles, of course, and to be sure “tangles of red hair,” as noted, but let us not forget the triangular vagina, “her bosky old delltangle” (405.3). In one of his sex letters to Nora, Joyce goes on about her “red cunt.” 298.27-8: “to expense herself as sphere as possible:” to expand herself as far as possible. Also, “spend” was Victorian-Edwardian slang for sexual climax; occurs in this sense in “Penelope.”’ 298.27-9: LM 2: see previous entry. A sphere expanding limitlessly could be said to have a “peripatetic periphery.” Again, starting from an infinitesimal point (see .12 and note) an illustration of Bruno’s geometry. 298.30: “unbridalled:” unbridled, as in “unbridled lust;” not brided – unmarried. What with “sphere” and (“perimutter” (.28-9)) perimeter, and “bend” and (“infinisissimalls” (.30)) infinity, we seem to be talking about a planetary body here, outward-bound beyond its proper orbit. 298.30-299.1: “infinisissimalls…scherts:” general sense: as her body expands, the (“calicolum” (.31)) calico clothing she’s wearing, including (“umdescribables” (.32)) unmentionables and (“scherts” (299.1)) shirts, naturally seems to become scantier by comparison. 298.31: “calicolum:” given “eternal Rome” (.33), may be Caligula 299.4-5: “I don’t know is it your spictre or my omination:” In “Penelope,” Molly mishears her gynecologist’s talk of “emissions” as “omissions,” probably because thinking of the not-there of her vagina. The etymologically original sense of “spit” is “sharp protuberance,” as in “turnspit.” Blake’s – and Yeats’s - terminology (see McHugh) has been sexualized – again, to (295 LM 2) haves and have-nots. (“Emanation” is also a term in mathematics, Neoplatonism, and Kabballah.) 299.5: “omination:” if an abomination is something repellent to the Lord, what is an omination? 299.6: “Lourde:” more liquid, from a (female: the Virgin Mary’s) sacred spring 299.8: “superpbosition:” geometrically, superposition is notionally placing one figure over the other to show that they’re congruent. Ophthalmologically, it’s what allows the eyes/brain circuit to not see double – not see, e.g. like whoever is seeing p. 293. 299.8: “quoint:” obvious? Cunt. Appears this way, almost, in Chaucer. And “quincidence?” In “Circe,” Boylan’s word is “quims.” See 206.35 and note. 299.8: “O.K:” at the time, the expression most identified with Americans. 299.9-11: “As Ollover Krumwall sayed when he slepped ueber his grannyamother:” Cary Grant, in the 1940 movie The Philadelphia Story: “I’d run over my own grandmother for a drink, and you know how much I love my grandmother.” Evidently not the first occurrence of the expression. Also: disputed tradition that Oliver Cromwell visited, and may have slept at, the castle of Rosyth, where his grandmother had been born; also, interestingly, that through his grandmother he was related to the royal Stewarts. (If curious, see Alan Reid, Rosyth Castle: a notable Fifeshire ruin, 50ff.) 299.9. “Krumwall:” Kremlin Wall. One post-revolutionary despotism, Cromwell’s, being combined with another 299.11: “Kangaroose feathers:” kangaroo feathers: two main senses, of which the second seems the more probable: from Australian wags displaying, for instance, emu feathers to newcomers and saying they came from a kangaroo. (Compare the American jackalope.) Hence, bullshit, believed in by the gullible. (Digger Dialects (see note to 262.10) has "a tall tale.") I suggest that this marks a shift in the dialogue – Shem answering back to Shaun. 299.12: “belevin:” “levin:” OE for lightning. (Occurs in “Oxen of the Sun.”) note proximity of “thunder’d” and “bolt.” 299.13: “holy mooxed:” wholly mixed (up). Also, note that “holy” is followed in the next line by “gheist,” ghost. 299.13: “mooxed:” moke/mokes: slang for dullard 299.14: “palce:” place, palace 299.16-7: “Where’s your belested loiternan’s lamp:” reference to letterman’s - postman’s - lamp confirms that this is now a Shem-type addressing a Shaun-type. See, for instance, 404.13. 299.16: “belested:” blasted 299.17: “lap wandret:” have wandered 299.18: “refluction:” compare 297.29; see McHugh. 299.18: “trunk’s:” pants, in the sense of boxing trunks, Turkey trunks (harem pants) – the latter appears in “Oxen of the Sun.” Shem/Dolph/Nick, of all people, is accusing his brother of confusing ALP’s lower half with her upper half. 299.19-20: “Yseen here the puncture. So he done it:” After “puncture,” McHugh inserts “See her good. Luck." (Oxford editors do not.) Either way, the gist is that she’s not a virgin. 299.21: “Well, well, well, well! O dee, O dee:” More water. “Well” as in water-well; Dee as in River Dee. (UK had five River Dee’s, including one in Ireland.) Given context, probably pertinent that the best-known Dee, in Aberdeenshire, got its name from “Deva,” goddess. (Compare 287.4-5.) Also, of course, D, the delta letter. 299.22-3: “Simperspreach…: ”O’Haggans:” in other words, he’s speechless – especially compared to his talkative double. (See McHugh.) 299.23-5: “rolls over his ars and shows the hise of his heels:” 1. Displays signs of gentility: French r’s; well-heeled. (Also, for a while in the 17th century, high heels were fashionable for men.) Follows from “Simperspreach:” simpering, like lisping, was, around the same time, sometimes taken as a sign of too much gentility – for men signifying the overbred and effeminate. (In “Telemachus,” Mulligan feigns a “womanish simper;” in “Circe,” Bloom simpers when unmanned by Bello.) 2. Rolls over backward on his arse and thus shows us his heels. 3. “Round-heeled:” an overly compliant woman. 4. To “show your heels” was to run away when found out. 299.27: “Moll Kelly, neighbour topsowyer:” the Michael side of the twins, still perched on top 299.28: “lozenge:” diamond-shaped. Like the straight-edge figure on 293, if the dotted outline is included 299.30: “copperas:” comrades 299.30: “Ever thought about Guinness’s?:” I wish I knew why Shaun/Kev/Michael’s tone changes so abruptly here. Nothing in particular seems to have brought it on. Anyway, “Guinness’s” is also Genesis: he’s asking sarcastically if Shem/Dolph has ever thought of reading the Bible. Fn. 2: “I call that a scumhead:” linked to “gaping up the wrong place” - her vagina. Hence “scumhead.” Like a caul, only going the other way Fn. 3: “Pure chingchong idiotism with any way words all in one soluble. Gee each owe tea eye smells fish. That’s U:” see McHugh. From double sense of “Mongolism:” congenital idiocy connected to Asiatic origin. (Occurs, with same double sense, in “Circe.”) “Any way words:” a way with words: the two parties to which this is linked, Single-speech Hamilton and “Selvertunes [silver-tongued] O’Haggans,” both had a way with words. Also, wayward words: Words appearing any way – in any order – are typical of FW’s rendition of Oriental speech and seems to apply to “More better twofeller we been speak copperads” (.29-30) as well as the l/r uncertainties in “Simperspreach Hammeltones…Selvertunes O’Haggans” (and other words to follow). “That’s U:” i.e. you are, or smell, fishy. Fn. 4: Geometrical figures are linked to “lozenge,” a geometrical figure. “Hoodle doodle, fam.” sounds like a stage-American version of “Howdy-doody [How are you doing?], Family?” Howdy Doody later became a popular children’s television show, but Google Books has the expression as early as 1927. "Hoddy-doddy" is Elizethan slang for a fool. Compare 332.26 and note. 300.5: “wanigel to anglyother:” both McHugh and Oxford editors have “anigel” - Pope Gregory’s “not Angles but angels.” See 257.1 and note. 300.6-7: “you’ll be dampned so you will, one of these invernal days:” he’ll be dampened because ("-vernal") spring is the time for April showers. 300.9: RM 1: “SICK US A SOCK WITH SOME SEDIMENT IN IT FOR THE SAKE OF OUR DARNING WIVES:” a sock filled with, for instance, (sedimental) sand, would be what was called a blackjack, or cosh. Holes in socks are mended by “darning,” traditionally a wifely job. Secondary meaning is that the men would like a cosh in order to brain their darn – American curse-dodging version of “damn” – wives. The (see McHugh) overtone of “song with some sediment in it” probably fits the “Sweet Marie” of .11-2 in the main text; see note to .11-2. 300.9: “gayet that:” given that; made happy that (he would get the last word). OED says “gay” is a verb. 300.9ff: “Wherapool…” the next two and half pages, approximately, are mainly concerned with a writing lesson – Shem/Dolph/Nick master, Shaun/Kev/Mike student. As with the earlier math lesson – unhappily revived in his mind at .26-8 - the latter finds himself out of his depth and becomes frantic and resentful, at least one reason for the spasmodically percussive diction. Also, whirlpool: applies to Shaun/Kev, whose head is (e.g. .26-8) spinning. 300.9: “stop look round who here hurry:” stop and look around to see who’s hurrying in this direction: schoolbook advice given to pedestrians in the age of the automobile: “Stop, Look, and Listen.” Again (see previous), whirlpool, head spinning 300.9: LM 1: “Primanouriture and Ultimogeniture:” Both this and the linked Fn. 3 (“Bag bog blockcheap, have you any will?”) relate to the main-text .12, “Jacob’s:” the marginal note because the Jacob-Esau-pottage story is about both food (“-nouriture”) and primogeniture; the footnote having to do with Jacob’s deception of Isaac, with the fact that he was a shepherd, that he finagled his father’s inheritance (“will,” in the sense of last will and testament), that, depending on how you read the story, he might also be called the black sheep of the family. (Also, he covered his arms with lambskin to convince Isaac that he was the hairier brother.) The “birthright” at issue shows up at .32 as “bursthright.” 300.10-11: “he would have ever the lothst word:” whatever, he would have the last word. (He does, whether that means the brotherly cross-talk ending at 306.7, the answers to the quiz, beginning at 306.15, or the chapter’s last footnote.) Also, from “The Story of Tristram and La Belle Iseult,” in Cornwall’s Wonderland by Mabel Quiller-Couch: "'Yonder knight is a goodly man, but I will never yield, nor say the loth word." Joyce's Notebook VI.B.18.237 includes the excerpt "the loth word." According to OED, "loth" means something like "angry." 300.11-2: “with a sweet me ah err eye ear marie to reat from the jacob’s:” “Sweet Marie” was a popular turn-of-the-century song; this sounds like a singer stretching out the chorus. (Compare Simon Dedalus’ rendition of “M’Appari” in “Sirens.”) Also, see McHugh, who glosses it as a variety of Jacob’s Biscuits. (“To reat:” treat.) Sweetmeats? Some Jacob’s products were what the English call sweetmeats and Americans call (“candykissing” (.15)) candies; one Jacob’s item advertised in the April 15, 1900 Irish Times, “sandwiched with Soft Cream Icing,” sounds like an Oreo. 300.11, 16: “the lothst word," “rinnerung:” FW’s last word is “the;” its first is “riverrun.” Also, see note to 300.9; LM 1: Jacob got the last word. Speaking of Jacob, he dreamed a ladder, with rungs, reaching up (“up the rinnerung”) into the sky. 300.11: “lothst:” compare “lothing,” 627.17, 18. 300.15: “candykissing:” 1. In boxing, a "canvas-kisser" is a boxer who loses continually, perhaps because he’s taking a fall. 2. Candy kisses, a popular type of candy in the FW years and earlier. (One example: Life Savers.) Syntax and logic in this frantic sequence are, to say the least, elusive, but it does include “sweet” (.11), “jacob’s” biscuits (that is, cookies - .12), “toothsake” (.13) toothache, “fress up” (that is, gobble up - .15-6), “ate” (.16), (“nibbleh ravenostonnoriously” (.18)), nibble ravenously, and so on – in short a lot about food and eating, candy included; at about .23, with “delubberate,” the issue becomes one of digestion, both literally and in the sense of making sense of the “mess” (.24) of experience, both internal (the “creactive mind” (.20-1)), creatively reactive mind, and external, both written-down and acted-out. 300.16: “ate by hart:” as McHugh notes, to get, learn by heart. Also, to “eat one’s heart” (out) is to undergo extreme envy or remorse, usually for something lost, not done, not obtained, etc. To eat one’s liver (301.16) carries much the same meaning, with an added nod to cirrhosis. 300.16-7: (“leo I read, such a spanish escribibis:” such is Spanish – the two italicized words, that is 300.17. “escribibis:” ex libris 300.18: “nibbleh:” nib of pen? As a verb, “nib” means to sharpen a pen. As “nibble,” contrasts with “fress” of .15. To nibble ravenously would, to be sure, constitute a contradiction in terms – no biggie, in FW. 300.18-9: “ihs mum to me in bewonderment of his chipper chuthor:“ "mum” prompts “chuthor” – author, as in “father” – which in turn prompts “Other.” In this exchange, “Other” is the Shem type, “Same” the Shaun type. See next entry. 300.20-2: “Other…Same:” these terms originate with Plato, by way of (see McHugh) Yeats. 300.21: “deleberate:” liberate 300.21: “deleberate the mass:” celebrate mass 300.22-24: “our Same with the holp of the bounty of food sought to delubberate the mess from his corructive mund:” “mass”/”mess” as meal comes into play here: for one thing, his spirally wobbling head (.27) makes him feel nauseous. “Mund” is German for mouth; “corructive” echoes Latin eructare, to belch or vomit. He is delivering/liberating a mass of food, either by digesting it or by throwing it up. 300.24-6: “with his muffetee cuffes ownconsciously grafficking with his sinister cyclopes:” he’s unconsciously rubbing his left eye with the cuff of his sleeve. Joyce’s left eye was the one that sometimes had a patch. His mental confusion is in part the result of his optical issues. 300.26: "sinister cyclopes:" see previous entry. The eye-patch was to protect what remained of the vision in Joyce's left eye, the (relatively) less afflicted of the two. Insofar as he could see at all, with patch removed, it was as a left-eyed one-eye. 300.25: “muffetee:” for a soldier or clergyman to be in “mufti” is to be in civilian clothes. 300.25: “cuffes:” cuffs, as blows – to give someone a cuff in the (here) left eye – one reason for rubbing it, one possible cause of the patch 300.25: “grafficking:” grappling: what boxers are sometimes described as doing, when they go into a clinch. (Also, as McHugh notes, scratching – in rubbing the afflicted eye, he’s scratching it.) 300.25-8: “ownconsciously…selves:” essentially he has been rendered uncoordinated, mentally and physically, by all the confusion brought on by the former mind-boggling lessons. 300.26: “sinister cyclopes:” left eye. Again, the one with the eyepatch, in pictures of Joyce. Also: the eye isn’t synchronizing with what the hand, in the writing lesson, is trying to do with the pen – what is sometimes called faulty “hand-eye coordination.” (Eye-eye coordination is a problem too.) 300.30…301.1: “till that on him poorin sweat the juggaleer’s veins (quench his quill!) in his napier scrag stud out bursthright tamquam taughtropes:” the veins in his face and neck, including the jugular, are standing out like tautened ropes because of the mental strain he is under. (Also, boxing: when a boxer is up against the ropes, they become tauter.) For the (pretty obvious) phallic implications of this quenchable quill, compare Molly on Boylan’s erection: “all those veins and things.” 300.30: “thru him no quartos:” if he can’t write, he’ll produce no quartos (of books). Overall, as elsewhere in this passage (e.g. “quench his quill” (.31)), a prescription for censorship. In the ongoing boxing strain: give him no quarter. 300.31: “quench his quill” pens, including quill pens, were filled with a liquid – ink. That was why certain feathers in which the hollow that, in the words of Wikipedia, could serve as a “reservoir,” were favored. I can’t find much in the way of “quenched quill” online; on the other hand, “thirsty quill” is quite common. Also, the beleaguered individual being described, with his jugular vein swelling near to bursting (.31-2), is by pre-modern medical practice in need of bleeding, by a (“bloodlekar” (301.1-2)) bloodletting leech (a word once synonymous with physician). Bloodletters used quills. 300.32: “napier:” nape (of the neck). Probably obvious. Site for bleeding. Maybe ”neighbor,” too. Fn. 1: “Picking on Nickagain, Pikey Mikey?:” the pike is the weapon most associated with native Irish rebellion against the English, especially in 1798. And, of course, “Mike,” along with “Pat” = Irishman. Fn. 3: “Bag bog blockcheap, have you any will?” linked to “jacob’s,” in turn adjacent to “Primanouriture…Ultimogeniture:” See note to LM 1, above. 301.1-2: “(Spry him! Call a bloodlekar!:” Spray him with water – splash him or hose him down: he’s burning up with fever, or feverish exertion, and (300.30-1) "poorin sweat," pouring sweat. Boxers between rounds were/are doused with cold water; in extreme cases one might want to call a doctor – a (blood) leech. 301.1-2: “call a bloodlekar...Dr Brassenaarse:” because advanced syphilitics were famously noseless – and because until recently most doctors treating syphilis were quacks – a doctor dealing in false noses, brass or bronze, would be a quack specializing in venereal diseases. More generally, throughout most of medical history the treatment for a feverish state of the kind being reported – and, to be sure, much else – would have been bleeding, that is, causing the patient to leak blood (“bloodlekar,” with an overtone of "leech"), because his system is overcharged with vascular pressure. 301.3: “O He Must Suffer!”: “On His Majesty’s Service” – applied to Shaun the mailman, and thus reintroducing the letter: we will be hearing excerpts from here until 302.10. 301.3-5: “From this misbelieving feacemaker to his noncredible fancyflame:” facemaker: “one who makes faces, to deceive. Part of an exchange of loveletters between two partial frauds. (Compare Bloom-Martha.) He doesn’t believe; she’s not believable; vice-versa. Fn. 1, linked to this passage, has her applying Pond’s cream to salve her skin (the “skin” in “-kins” in “suiterkins”) and to disappear, or at least cancel her identity: Pond’s was marketed as “vanishing cream.” (FW uses the conceit elsewhere, for example 528.10-3.) Immediately followed by the standard heading giving the sender’s address (Boston (.5)), .5-302.11 will intermittently present yet another rendition of the FW letter. 301.4: “feacemaker:” facemaker. Given blood-pressure dimension, also this, from the OED for “pacemaker:” “a part of the heart that determines the rate at which it beats and where the contractions begin.” First listed occurrence is 1910. 301.5: “Ask for bosthoon, late for Mass, pray for blaablaablack sheep:” as for this loser, the (see McHugh for “bosthoon”) perennial blockhead, he’s always late for mass – one reason he’s the black sheep of the family. See note to “mick” (.8), below. 301.6: “blaablaablack:” Google Books confirms that the expression “blah-blah,” indicating substanceless blather, was around in Joyce’s time. 301.7: “wright:” possible allusion to Peter Wright, Gladstone’s accuser (in (“wright”) writing) – see 269.2-ll and 269.8 and notes. 301.7: “pippap:” again: Morse code. Dot-dash is “A.” 301.8: “Erewhig:” once was a Whig. Compare 359.26: “Goes Tory by Eeric Whigs.” English/Irish saying: “Give an Irishman a horse and he’ll vote Tory.” 301.8: “yerself:” in “Oxen of the Sun,” “yer,” a cornerboy pronunciation of “your.” 301.8: “mick:” in context – “bosthoon” (.5), the stage-Irish pronunciations of “foyne” and “yerself” (.7, .8) – the commonest derogatory term for an Irishman, connoting crudity, lunkheadedness 301.9-10: “Nock the muddy nickers! Christ’s Church verses Bellial!” Compare 175.5. Campbell & Robinson say that Balliol College “enrolled numerous Hindus and other outlanders.” (Confirmed by, for instance, Thomas Weber’s Our Friend the Enemy: Elite Education in Britain and Germany before World War, which records (p. 210) that Raymond Asquith, on his arrival, thought that Balliol was full of “niggers and Scotchmen,” and that students at the neighboring Trinity College called Balliol students “ruddy Basutos.”) By contrast, Wikipedia reports that Christ Church has long been considered the most “aristocratic” of the Oxford colleges. “Muddy knickers” are muddy (earth-colored) niggers; perhaps “bloody”- ruddy as well. Fn. 2, linked to “muddy nickers,” chimes in by comparing them to products of Ireland’s lowest educational class, Christian Brothers Irish, i.e. the sort you’d expect to have muddy knickers; compare Simon Dedalus on the Christian Brothers: “Paddy Stink and Mickey Mud” (Portrait, chapter two). (It also asks us to excuse their bad language and accent, probably that of “Sure…knickers!:” “yer,” “foyne,” “lousy,” “mick,” perhaps “bloody,” “knickers/niggers;“ the whole street-tough tone.) Though most associated with women’s undergarments, “knickers,” says the OED, also refers to shorts worn by footballers. The “varsity” in “varses” probably constitutes a hint that, as on the p. 175 passage it echoes, there’s a football match going on between the two colleges - so that one would naturally expect those knickers to get muddy. 301.10: “Dear:” the letter-writing begins in earnest here. It will be mainly a sob story. Early on (“gentlemine born, milady bread”), it wants to sound genteel, and tries too hard. 301.12-13: “frolicky frowner…glumsome grinner:” some of what follows seems to support the hypothesis that this refers to the laugh and cry masks of the theatre. The letter is also a stage production. 301.15: “waggy:” Maggy of letter 301.15: “my animal his sorrafool:” compare Joyce in his 1915 composition “Nightpiece,” on Lucia: “Her soul is sorrowful” (Ellmann, 1984, p. 346). 301.16: “liver:” 1. livre is French for book; 2. livers proverbially suffer most from excessive drinking; 3. Joyce had gone through what was at times certainly a rough spell, including heavy drinking, in Trieste. 301.16-7: “Se non é vero son trovatore:” see McHugh. Presumably refers to .16’s mistranslation of a line from Verlaine 301.18-19: “mistermysterion:” Brewer: “Mysterium:” “the letters of this word which, until the time of the Reformation, was engraved on the Pope’s tiara, are said to make up the number 666.” 301.19-20: “Like a purate out of pensionee with a gouvernament job:” the expression “like a god on pension” (see 24.17) lurks behind this one, but the meaning seems turned inside out. In the Church of England, a curate has a government job. 301.23: “floored:” to be beaten, bested, knocked out 301.24: “Sink:” think. The “Cartesian” (.25) Cogito 301.25: “ashes:” as in sackcloth and ashes 301.26: “griper:” American slang for one who gripes – complains - a lot 301.26-30: “How dismal he was lying low on his rawside laying siege to goblin castle…how hyenesmeal he was laying him long on his laughside lying sack to croakpartridge:” right side, left side. In Dublin, as opposed to Paris, the right bank is south of the river, the left bank to the north. Accordingly, Dublin (“goblin”) Castle is on the right, Croke Park (“croakpartridge”) on the left. Put together in this military context (e.g. “rawside:” Gaelic "ráth," for fort), together they surely constitute an allusion to “Bloody Sunday,” November 21, 1920 (compare 178.8), when Irishmen working for or believed to be working for “the Castle” were killed on orders of Michael Collins, Irish civilians were gunned down in Croke Park, and suspected republicans were killed in the Castle itself. Also, again: the comedy and tragedy masks of the theatre (301.12-3): on one side he’s “diesmal,” on the other, laughing: paired with “diesmal,” “hyenesmeal” incorporates “hyena,” famous for its laugh. Also, hymeneal feasts – weddings – are occasions of rejoicing. 301.26: “lying low:” to lie low, especially in conflict, is to stay below the line of fire. 301.28-9: “how hyenesmeal he was laying him long on his laughside:” expression: laughing like a hyena 302.2-3: “If you could me lendtill my pascol’s kondyl, sahib:” this version of FW’s letter turns out to be a begging letter, specifying that the recipient will be paid back on Easter, at the end of Lent. “Sahib” was a term of – sometimes obsequious – deference used by native Indians addressing English colonials. 302.4: “plate of poultice:” plate of “pulse” (peas): minimal nutrition for hermits and beggars. (Compare Lenehan in “Two Gallants.”) Also, after the beating he’s taken, poultice to be applied to a wound 302.5-8: “Punked. With best apolojigs and merrymoney thanks to self for all the clerricals and again begs guerdon for bistrispissing on bunificence:" I take “Punked” as the sound of the money being (a slang saying of the time) plunked down. (“Plunk” was also American slang for “dollar,” when dollars were heavy silver coins.) That’s why he’s suddenly so happy – dancing a jig, rattling merry money in his pocket. (Compare Boylan in “Wandering Rocks," who also "rattled merry money" in his pockets.) Also why he gives thanks (qualified: he’s also pissing on it) for his benefactor’s munificence. 302.4: “apolojigs:” helps identify the writer as a Shem type: compare 414.22. 302.6: LM 1: “Ensouling Female Sustains Agonising Overman:” taking into account the exalted rhetoric of the left margin notes since p. 293, this one makes sense if the benefactor was a woman. (Perhaps the “Agonising Overman” is James Joyce, with his history of patronesses.) The language resembles the Blavatskied theosophic blather parodied in “Scylla and Charybdis.” 302.8-10: “With a capital Tea for Thirst. From here Buvard to dear Picuchet. Blott:” teastain and blot, from blotting paper, are both regular features of the end of FW’s letter. Also: now that he’s got the money, he’s got a Thirst-with-a-capital-T: he can’t wait to go and spend the money on drink. (Compare Farrington in “Counterparts,” or Hynes in “Cyclops:” I’ve a thirst on me I wouldn’t sell for half a crown.”) Drinking strain here is probably why “Bouvard” got changed to “Buvard,” putting it closer to French buver, and “Blot” to “Blotto,” slang for “drunk.” 302.9: “capital tea:” excellent tea 302.11: RM 1: “Leman” in Mediaeval sense of love interest, sweetheart – she’ll be the “answerer” to this letter. 302.11: (“peel your eyes, my gins:” eye operation. Jim Joyce, whose eyes were quite literally peeled in his operations for glaucoma. 302.12-3: “son of a Butt:” Isaac Butt; Jacob and Esau were sons of Isaac. 302.13: “She’s mine, Jow low jure:” “she” is Issy, here as the girl the twins are competing for. (Fn. 1, linked to “jure,” is Issy saying how much she enjoys seeing the boys fight over her.) What follows will be a second missive, this one a love letter, either written by Shem, Cyrano-like (compare 288.2 and note) on behalf of his rival, or as a collaboration between the two. 302.13-5: “be Skibbering’s eagles…watch him:” in “Aeolus,” the Skibbereen Eagle is sarcastically called “our watchful friend.” To quote Gifford, its name had become “a laughing-stock phrase for the obscure provincial newspaper that overreached itself in political bluster, as the Eagle had portentously informed the prime minister of England and the emperor of Russia that it ‘had got its eyes’ on them.” 302.14: “sweet tart of Whiteknees Archway:” “tart” is pejorative term for loose young woman. Latin for “archway” is “fornix,” where prostitutes used to hang out; hence “fornicate.” This one is provocatively dressed, displaying her “Whiteknees” (.14). 302.15-6: “bifurking calamum:” the nib of a pen is split in bifurcated. A “forked tongue” is synonymous with duplicity; therefore, a forked pen would be the writing equivalent. (See note to .13.) The fact that it’s “onelike” (.16) just adds to the dishonesty. 302.16-7: “the onelike underworp he had ever funnet without difficultads:” given context (Shem/Joyce, writing), this may describe the writer’s recurring search for the mot juste, the one right word. Joyce once described himself, as a writer, as someone stumbling ahead until the perfect word showed up at his feet. (Actually, his notebooks make clear that it was hardly without difficulty: he revised incessantly.) 302.19: LM 2: “The Key signature:” eye operation: again (see 293.1-15 and note), a glaucoma operation leaves a mark in the eye that looks exactly like a keyhole. 302.19-20: “Exquisite Game of inspiration:” given context (writing-reading as aleatory “ad lib” (.22-3) inspiration), I suggest this alludes to “Exquisite Corpse,” a favorite game of the Surrealists. The idea was to randomly generate unexpected, perhaps inspired connections. 302.20: “I always adored your hand:” either/both: 1. the letter-writer complimenting the recipient on her elegant hand (Iseult is sometimes “Iseult of the White Hands;” see, e.g., 527.20-1); 2. Shaun complimenting Shem on his handwriting - a faint-praise issue-dodging way of not complimenting him on what he writes 302.21: “without the scrope of a pen:” the second sentence of LM 2, “The Key Signature,” would seem to go with “pen” as writing implement, making a scraping sound while writing a signature, especially if with (303.5) “Bould strokes.” Pen probably doubles with surgeon's lancet (compare "Telemachus," lines 152-3) - again, the operation for glaucoma leaves what looks exactly like a keyhole. 302.21-3: “Ohr for oral, key for crib, olchedolche and a lunge ad lib:” Another variation on the Arrah na Pogue key-in-kiss theme: the key orally delivered, perhaps by way of (“lunge:” lingua: tongue) tongue and/or (“lib) lip; for the latter compare 628.15. “Illpogue” shows up on the next page (303.3). 302.23-4: “Smith-Jones-Orbison:” Smith, Jones, and Robinson are approximately the British Isles equivalent of “Tom, Dick, and Harry.” 302.24-5: “jirryalimpaloop:” compare Cyril Sargent’s pathetic signature in “Nestor:” “a crooked signature with blind loops and a blot.” (The FW letter always includes a blot.) This signature comes from Jerry, a type of Kev, Shem, etc. 302.26: “To fallthere at bare feet:” Expression: “to fall at [his, hers, your, their] feet” as a sign of devotion or submission. Compare 628.11. 302.26: “Unds alws my thts:” McHugh has “always my thoughts;” I suggest a more extensive “You are always in my thoughts.” 302.28: “Outstamp:” aside from putting a stamp on the letter, “stamp out” 302.30: “Anon:” in Shakespeare, means something like: coming soon, next, just a minute…another way in which this passage forecasts the last uncompleted page of FW. 302.31-2: “charictures:” characters – both written and dramatic: at 303.5-8 the writing lesson will include some famous names, all Irish and literary. Fn. 1: “I loved to see the Macbeths Jerseys knacking spots of the Plumpduffs Pants:” Jersey and pants: top and bottom of outfit. Sounds like account of a football (soccer) match. Given “Pants,” “knacking” probably includes “kicking:” the Macbeth team kicked the Plumpduffs team in the pants – i.e. as an American might say, whupped their ass. As noted at 301.9-10, “knickers” are footballers’ shorts. For link, see note to .13. 303.3: “missa vellatooth:” Oxford editors have “Ole Missa Yellowtruth.” Idiom sounds like a combination of Joel Chandler Harris of the Uncle Remus stories (perhaps with “Ole Miss,” popular nickname for the University of Mississippi) with (see McHugh) Queen Victoria. In general: some remembered schoolmarm who taught him penmanship 303.5-8: “Tip…Doubblinnbbayyates:” “Tip,” recalling Kate from the Waterloo Museum of I.1, signals that we are in the vicinity of historical or cultural monuments, and in fact all the names to follow will qualify. (The degree of their correlation with the yogic chakras (see McHugh) of LM 1 seems, as best I can tell, uneven.) “Barke”/Burke, famous orator, as bark: “throat:” fair enough. “Spleen” for (“Swhipt”) Swift is a perfect fit, and the embedded “whip” an almost perfect one. I’m betting that “sacral” as sacrum, a bone in the back at the base of the spine, connects to (“Wiles”) Wilde (a man of wiles, for sure, but as it happened not enough) by way of anal intercourse; compare Wilde’s later appearance, as played by – ye gods – “Butt,” at 350.10-5. Shaw as “Pshaw,” being airily dismissive of what he considers others’ rubbish, is just right (compare 37.25-30), but (“fontanella”) the fontanelle? Maybe just because it has to do with the head and Shaw had a big one. “Intertemporal eye,” the “third eye” of much occult mumbo-jumbo, is perfect for “Doubblinnbbayyates;” the stretched-out spelling may go with a certain self-seriousness not never found in those who want to be addressed by three names, two of them initials. (Also, this, from Allen Wade, editor of The Letters of W. B. Yeats (1935), p. 17: “Yeats almost invariably signed his name in full, ‘W B Yeats’…the signature was always run together without stops after the initial letters.”) Still, your annotator remains mystified as to why Steele should be called “Steal” and paired with “heart,” or Sterne “Starn,” paired with “navel.” (Perhaps just because Sterne, especially in A Sentimental Journey, is an introspective writer? Perhaps.) 303.8-9: “This is brave Danny weeping his spache for the popers:” “Danny Boy” is probably the number-one tearjerker in the Irish musical repertoire (see next entry); Daniel O’Connell’s speeches, on behalf of emancipation for Irish Catholics – “popers” - brought many in his audience to tears. (Being a politician, he is also playing it up for the papers.) See next entry. 303.9: “popers:” also “pipers:” “Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes…” 303.12: “between:” chronologically, Parnell shows up (i.e. he goes) between O’Connell and Connolly. (Obvious?) 303.13: “Upanishadem!:” given that “the earliest known mention of chakras is found in the later Upanishads” (www.hinduwebsite.com/hinduism/concepts/chakras.asp), this clearly relates to LM 1, which, as McHugh notes, lists all six chakras. 303.13-4: “Spoken hath L’arty Magory. Eregobragh. Prouf!” As McHugh notes, Lady Gregory, the last Irish notable of the paragraph, here masculinized, delivering a de haut en bas diktat. The attendant footnote (Fn. 3) types him/her as a snooty sort. So (although “Larry McGory” should probably send opposite signals) does “L’arty” – arty as pretentious, “L’a” as “La,” sometimes used sarcastically to take some female down a peg: not “Miss Hepburn” but “La Hepburn.” Note echo of “Ergo” in “Eregobragh,” immediately followed by “Proof” in “Prouf!:” more diktat. (So, Mr. or Miss or Mrs. Hoity-Toity, where’s the Q.E.D.? Well, actually, on the next page (304.5), we will get a (“Pointcarried”) Point carried.) A “pouf” is an arty, pretentious male, probably homosexual. A north-of-the-Liffey man, Joyce resented Ascendancy literati. 303.15: “And Kev was wreathed with his bother:” see previous note. He’s wroth with his brother for being such an arty little snot. 303.15: RM 2: “TROTHBLOWERS,” followed by (“PIG AND THISTLE”), a typical pub name, then a parody of such a name. Compare “frothblowers,” “Frothblower”s of 227.32, 270.13, pubgoers blowing the froth off the top of their beers. Probably a scrambled klang association to the adjacent main-text “wreathed with his pother” (.15) – with “wreathed” as “wroth,” “brother” as “broth”er 303.16-304.4: “But…Slutningsbane:” again, Shaun/Mike/Kev loses his temper and throws a fit which winds up with him knocking his brother out, and, again, the frenzied, semi-coherent syntax reflects the action. Imbedded in the paragraph is the tradition that Charles I was beheaded by Cornet George Joyce: see note to 517.19. Thus: “my Georgeous” (.17), “do[ing] for the blessted selfchuruls” (.23-4) of the “firstlings” (.26): George finishing off the blessed/wounded saintly Charles the First, who will duly become the sainted “Charles the Martyr” of Anglican liturgy. Other possible related language: “By mercystroke” (.27-8): unlike many other beheadings, this one was professionally accomplished in one clean, relatively merciful stroke. “And his countinghands rose” (304.1-2): head on the block, Charles signaled the moment by raising his hands. Joyce’s son was named Giorgio, and as first-born he was a (“firstings” (.26)), firstling, and (see McHugh for “firstings”) Abel sacrificed the firstling of his herd to win favor with God. So: along with the usual brother battlers (Cain and Abel, Jacob and Esau) a father-son conflict is underway as well: it is a son who is sick and tired of his erudite father’s “autocratic writings of paraboles” (.19), and all the talk about “thee faroots hof cullchaw end ate citrawn” (.21-2) – a high-toned drawing-room way of going on about the fruits of culture and etcetera – and who seems quite happy to pronounce (“Rip!” (304.1)) his father’s R. I. P. 303.20: “meddlied muddlingisms:” mixed metaphors; mottlied mongolism 303.22: “triperforator awlrite:” awl-like trephine, used to punch, as with an awl, through skull in trephination; here also – eye operation – the eye doctor’s scalpel 303.26: “hairydary:” given context (churls, dukes), “hereditary” – kings, for instance. Also, Esau, as opposed to “Jacoby” (.16), was a hairy man. Fn. 2: “When the dander rattles how the peacocks prance!:” Joyce’s Notebook VI.B.45 records the superstition that thunder makes peacocks dance. Rationale for link to Yeats? Perhaps because he could, certainly, be a bit of a peacock. Fn. 3: “The Brownes de Browne – Browne of Castlehacknolan.” the “e” added to “Brown,” the “de,” the hyphen in the doubled “Browne – Browne,” the doubling itself, the advertising of the fact that their place of origin bears their name, the castle in “Castlehacknolan” and also the “-nolan,” which as Brenan O Hehir notes comes from Gaelic for “noble:” all in all, superogatory snobbisme. For link, see note to .13-4. 304.1-2: “wan's won! Rip! And his countinghands rose.:” a counting-hand would be a boxing referee’s, raising the winner’s hand after counting his adversary out. (I think the last ten or so lines have returned to the intermittent prizefight theme and brought it to a close.) “Wan’s won!” "He’s won!” Or “[number] one’s won!” “Rip!:” R.I.P.: the loser is either dead or dead to the world (see .4 and note). In any case, he’s definitely unconscious: the linked footnote says that he's gone "byebye," at least for a while. 304.3: RM 1: “WITH EBONISER.:” ebona, or henbane – poison given to Hamlet’s father. (Compare adjacent main text, “deatthow simple!” (.3).) Also, eye operation. Henbane is the principal ingredient of scopolamine, a hypnotic that dilates the pupils and induces a “twilight sleep” state liberating the patient’s free-association; hence its reputation as a truth serum. It was used in some of Joyce’s ten eye operations. The trance induced is often preceded by a state of mental excitation. Joyce wrote a poem saying it would make “staid Tutankamen / Laugh and leap like a salmon.” (As “scoppialamina” (183.1), it makes a I.6 appearance in a passage about Joyce’s health problems, his eyes included.) RM 3: “MIND WHO YOU’RE PUCKING, FLEBBY:” compare “puckers,” “pucking” in “Wandering Rocks:” blows in boxing. Adjacent to main-text testimony of “seeing…rings round me” as a result of having been struck, presumably in the eye (.5-9). See note to .1-2. 304.4: “Slutningsbane:” Christiani: end of the line, in the sense of death. Probably connects with (see previous entry) the henbane of RM 1. 304.5-306.7: “Thanks…ends:” it’s important to keep in mind that, as before, this is a spell of cross-talk between the two, and that Joyce, as always averse to quotation marks, isn’t giving many clues as to who’s speaking when. For instance, it begins with Shem/Nick, the one who’s been struck and is seeing rainbows (.5-9); then Shaun/Mike responds by congratulating him on his scholarly achievements (.9-11). Later points of changeover can be more problematic. 304.5: LM 1: goes with “Thanks eversore much” (.5). “Eversore:” always in pain. Also, eye operation. Given the glaucoma operation in progress, eyesore as well. (Joyce once joked that he had become an “international eyesore.”) 304.6-7: "weight...redmass:" see note to .16. 304.7: “red mass:” 1. the triangular red shape of 293 (Bass Ale insignia) – like the mesmerized Bloom of “Oxen of the Sun,” he has been (.7) “looking at” it intently, going into the trance now over; 2. a mass celebrated for judges, attorneys, legal officials – named for the red vestments worn 304.8-9: “I’m seeing rayingbogeys rings round me:” see note to 303.3: RM 1. Henbane is a psychoactive drug inducing hallucinations. Also, in a contest such as the one just completed, to "run rings" around someone is to completely outmatch them. 304.11: “exhibitiveness:” still more boxing: Google Books confirms that “exhibition” was a common term for boxing matches in Joyce’s time. (Also, in the context oppositely, a school prize; Joyce won a number of them.) 304.11-4: “I'd love to take you for a bugaboo ride and play funfer all if you'd only sit and be the ballasted bottle in the porker barrel:” “bugaboo:” buggy: here, an early automobile. Also, a continuation of what McHugh calls the “mechanics” (weight, mass, momentum, potential energy) being calculated earlier (.6-8) – here, anyway, for a buggy ride: someone will need to sit in the rumble seat, as ballast, to keep the weight evenly distributed. 304.12: “funfer all:” as in the “all for one, one for all” of The Three Musketeers. After all the fighting, he wishes they could just get along. 304.13-4: “ballasted bottle in the porker barrel:” Huckleberry Finn’s father lives in a hogshead – a barrel. In III.1-2, Shaun will be a barrel. Also, see note to .16. 304.14: “rolypoly:” a tart-like pastry 304.16: "drift bombs and bottom trailers:" identified by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 2022): glass bottles put to sea to study sea currents. "Drift bombs" floated on the surface; "bottom trailers" were weighted to float along the sea bottom, and contained a postcard for finders to report locations. I suggest that the "ballasted bottle" of .13 is a bottom trailer. The sequence here begins with attention drawn to the "red mass" triangle on a bottle of Bass Ale, said to have a "weight" (.6-7). 304.16-7: “If my maily was bag enough I’d send you a toxis” is Shaun/Mike (the “maily…bag” mail bag is the tipoff); “By Saxon Chromaticus…” (.18-9) is Shem/Nick, the erudite one who’s seeing chromatic rings. 304.21: “Endsland’s daylast:” England’s dynast – e.g., given context, Arthur. Also, in this westernmost part of England – Land’s End (Arthur territory) – where day ends last. 304.26: “As I was saying,” Shem/Nick speaking 304.29: “For I’ve:” Shaun/Mike speaking; at .31 he manages to get even Descartes “Cogito” (cf. 304.21-5 and note) wrong. 304.26-7: LM 2 goes with “We’re offals boys ambows” (.28). 304.27-8: “reborn of the cards:” new pope, elected by the cardinals? 304.28: LM 3 goes with “He prophets most who bilks the best” (305.2-3). 304.29: “crambs:” intense studying for exams: cramming. 304.31: “cog it out, here goes sum:” “cog:” Anglo-Irish for “crib:” the student has copied someone else’s sum. 305.1: “must book:” Mass-book 305.3-4: “that salubrated sickenagiaour of yaours have teaspilled:” in FW’s letter, for instance from 619.16 to 628.16 (remembering that thé is French for tea), the tea stain always follows the signature. “Salubrated,” probably, because tea was often promoted as a healthful, salubrious alternative to alcohol. 305.3: RM 1: See McHugh. Clearly, this comments on “hazeydency” (.4). Richard Piggott’s misspelling of “hesitancy” as “hesitency” was the pivotal item which exonerated Parnell. Upping the ante, the challenge now is to spell the Latin equivalent, “cunctatio,” for indecision (that is hesitancy), and, like Pigott, he makes a hash of it – to begin with, mishearing or mistranslating it as the non-existent “CUNCTITITITILATIO.” Since by this point in II.2, RM commentary is by the scapegrace Dolph, the exercise becomes a matter of schoolboyish off-color double-entendres, for which “CUNCT-” is just the beginning; in fact it may be that the “-TITITITILATIO” was all his addition. So, besides “cunct,” we have excursions into titillate, tits, thighs, legs, fellatio. Behind it all, I suggest, we can still discern the hapless writer, sounding it out (but how does “cunctatio” sound?) and trying to eke out or fake out the right spelling: cunc, conk, or cunk? t or th? one or two l’s?, etc. Oxford editors have “CUNCTITITILLITATIO? CONKERYCUNK, THIGHTHIGHTICKELLYTHIGH, LIGGERYLAG, TITTERYTOT.” Not, I venture, a substantial change in meaning, but it does recall the Reverend Spooner’s best-known Spoonerism (see 37.2, 167.16) “Kinkering Congs.” 305.3-6: “And that salubrated sickenagiaour of yaours have teaspilled all my hazeydency…Bleating Goad…Eyeinstye!:” eye operation. Again, the pen/sword/axe was also a scalpel (the surgeon’s signature is his incision), the bloodletting “goad” whose cutting penetration has (temporarily and – bleeding God! – painfully) dispelled some of the haziness. “Salubrated:” salubrious, conducive to health. The surgeon’s signature 305.5: “Sunny Sim:” Shem the son plus Sunny Jim. Introduced in 1902, Sunny Jim was a popular cartoon character for a brand of breakfast cereal named Force; eating it, he was transformed, Popeye-like, from having been the dreary "Jim Dumps;" before then both Jims were characters in a farce entitled The Lamentable Tragedy of Omelet and Oatmealia, around at the time of (Jim) Joyce’s birth. 305.5-6: “it is the least of things:” i.e. it’s nothing; think nothing of it 305.6: “Eyeinstye:” stye in eye. Also, possibly history's first instance of someone sarcastically addressing someone else as "Einstein," meaning, You think you're so smart, don't you? (Compare 262, fn.1.) 305.6-7: “Imagine it, my deep dartry dullard!:” although who’s speaking is not always clear in this sequence, these words are probably Dolph's/Shem’s. If so, a comeback: at least I'm smarter than you, you deeply dull dullard. 305.8: “celebridging:” bridging (the (.9)) gap 305.11: “hellbent:” hellbound 305.12: LM 1: "The twofold Truth and the Conjunctive Appetites of Oppositional Orexes:" goes with 305.12: “woolfell merger” (.12). As recorded in Joyce's Notebook VI.B.17.085, the phrase "twofold truth" appears in J. Lewis McIntyre's Giordano Bruno. (Note that Bruno's ("Trianfante di bestia!" (.15)) Lo Spaccio della Bestia Trionfante appears three lines later.) In general, it designates Bruno's formula for denying charges of heresy on the grounds that either a former statement was only one side of his argument or that he had changed his mind later. The link to "merger" surely indicates that Bruno's "coinciding contraries" are in play as well. Also, OED: “conjunctiva: The mucous membrane which lines the inner surface of the eyelids and is reflected over the front of the eyeball, thus conjoining this with the lids.” Shem’s sight in the faulty eye has been (partially) restored, so he can now (sometimes) see three-dimensionally, that is with merged ("Orexes") axes. The conjunctiva is where (.6) styes develop. Again, eye operation 305.12-15: “In effect I could engage in an energument over you till you were republicly royally toobally prussic blue in the shirt after:” begins by saying that he’s so fond of Shem that he’d get into an argument if he ever heard anyone disparaging him; ends with the idea that the other side of the argument would be “you,” Shem himself. (Again, it can sometimes be difficult to tell these two cross-talk parties apart.) 305.14: “republicly royally:” coinciding contraries 305.14: “toobally:” again, includes English expression “bally.” (Compare 285.25-6.) One of several points in this passage to establish Shaun as an English sympathizer. 305.14-5: “prussic blue:” Prussian blue 305.15: “blue in the shirt:” the main idea is that Shaun would argue in defense of or against Shem until he was “blue in the face.” As noted above, by the end it’s Shem who’s doing the arguing. Given that we’ve got the Ireland’s fascist Blueshirts in here and that they took their orders from Berlin, the Hitlerian/militarist overtones of (“prussic” (.14)) “Prussia” are probably also part of the package. 305.15: “blue:” Also in the sense of “true blue,” meaning hardcore Protestant. The phrase occurs in Butler’s Hudibras and other works, including Ulysses, where Mr Deasy is an adherent of the “true blue bible.” Later down the page (.31), we get “To book alone belongs the lobe,” i.e. the Bible alone determines love and law, and its words are the only ones you should listen to with your (ear)lobe – a Protestant sentiment. In this context, the “must book” of line 1 is the Bible, the book whose word you must follow. Combining it with “mass-book” is a classic FW convergence of contraries. 305.15: “Trionfante di bestia:” everything I’ve read of Bruno’s, including this, is pugnacious – that is, highly argumentative. The right tone for the Irish Blueshirts. 305.16: “bloater’s kipper:” kippered herring. With some leeway, “bloater” and “kipper” are synonyms – both are herrings. 305.19-20: “Biddy’s hair, mine lubber:” given what I think is the Nazi presence in this passage: “hair” also includes “Herr,” that is, master (see 84.23 and note) and “Hail!” (heil!); “mine lubber” includes “mein führer” (leader). See .12-5 and note. 305.22-3: “solver up your sleep:” a card up the sleeve, for purposes of cheating in a magic show or game of poker. Perhaps “solver” in the sense that it would conveniently solve the performer’s/player’s dilemma. Also, echo of “silver tongue:” Shem is the wordsmith, a gift Shaun admires and resents. 305.23: LM 2: goes with “Thou in shanty” (.23)! 305.23: “shanty:” “Shanty Irish:” a derogatory term for lower-class Irish, including (or especially) Irish-American immigrants, as differentiated from “lace-curtain Irish” 305.23-4: “shanty…scanty shanty…slanty scanty shanty:” compare Joyce’s parody of the end of The Wasteland: (“Shan’t we? Shan’t we? Shan’t we?” (Ellmann biography, p. 572): “shan’t” as idiom of stuffily upper-class English.) 305.27: “chinarpot:” china (chamber) pot? 305.27-8: “Ave! And…Vale:” Ave atque vale: hail and farewell – as McHugh notes, the title of a book by George Moore. Here, coincidentally or not, it happens to be right next to a line from a poem by another Moore, Thomas. 305.28: “Ovocation:” evocation 305.28-9: “Ovocation of maiding waters:” avocation of pissing. The footnote protests that he’s not guilty of this charge. Probably relates to the scandal in the park 305.30: “champ:” champion, chant 305.31: “Foremaster’s:” a four-master ship, perhaps carrying the (.33) pilgrims to Ireland Fn. 1: “From three shellings. A bluedye sacrifice:” link is to “blue in the shirt after.” The price of the blue-dyed shirt has been marked down from three shillings, and, speaking as the seller in question, It’s a bloody sacrifice! “Bluedye:” bloody eye: eye operation, and, again, Joyce’s eyes were blue. “Blue,” as in “I’m going for blue” in Portrait, chapter five: blue soap powder, used for washing shirts Fn. 2: “Not Kilty. But the manajar was. He! He! Ho! Ho! Ho!:” that is, not guilty of the park crime recalled in lines 28-9. “He! He! Ho! Ho! Ho!:” he, the man/ager, was the guilty one, Ha Ha! Link, to “maiding waters,” goes to the ever-present question of just who, in the park, was the one making water. Fn. 3: “Giglamps, Soapy Geyser, The Smell and Gory M Gusty:” linked to “Foremaster’s Meed” (.32), the Four Masters, this sounds like the four old men, in the usual order. “Soapy Geyser” is the Munster of the Blarney Stone, “the soapstone of silvry speech” (140.27). (“Soapy” by itself – as when Bloom is called a “soapy sneak” in “Circe” – means unctuous, dishonestly smoothtalking: what the Irish call “cute.” J.V. Kelleher once told me that people from Cork were known for being cute. Approximate American equivalent is “soft-soaping.”) “The Smell” is Leinster’s dear dirty Dublin, “the gush off the mon like Ballybock manure works on a tradewinds day” (95.2-3). “Gory M Gusty” perhaps because Irish winds are typically from the west – Connacht. Don’t know quite what to do with “Giglamps,” except to note that they were lights on either side of a one-horse carriage. 306.1: “staff…wallet:” together, staff and wallet were/are the traditional accompaniments of a pilgrim. 306.1-2: “our aureoles round our neckkandcropfs:” haloes around our heads 306.2-4: “when Heavysciusgardaddy, parent who offers sweetmeats, will gift uns his Noblett’s surprize:” Joyce never did receive the Nobel Prize for literature. (As of the time he wrote this, Shaw, Yeats (303.6-7), and Eliot, whose Wasteland obviously owed something to the previously-published chapters of Ulysses, all had. Joyce was not the man not to notice.) 306.3: “Heavysciusgardaddy, parent who offers sweetmeats:” “Sugar Daddy,” imbedded in the “H…” word here, is 1. an American expression for a rich old man latched onto by a sweet young thing, e.g. Daddy Browning with Peaches; 2. the name of a brand of candy (“sweetmeat,” in the British Isles). It was around in Joyce’s time. 306.5: “loud ability:” laudability 306.5-6: “let us be singulfied:” 1. Let it be signified. (In the English translation, Pope Adrian’s Laudabiliter reads, at one point: “Now, most dear Son in Christ, you have signified to us that you propose to enter the island of Ireland”) 2. Let us be made one. 306.5: LM 2 goes with “laudable purpose” (.5). Given “laudibiliter” allusion, perhaps a sardonic comment on Irish complicity with conquerors 306.7: “Mizpah:” as Gifford notes about “Mizpah” in “Ithaca” (17.1781), it is shorthand for a well-wishing verse from Genesis 31:49: “And Mizpah; for he said, The Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent from one another.” Gifford adds that as a salutation it works only when taken out of its brother-feud context. 306.8: RM 1: “AND HOW:” an American expression signifying something exceptional, definitive, extreme. “She told him off, and how!” 306.10: “Impostolopulos:” presumably from Latin impostus, past particle of imponere, to impose or tax. Addressing Shaun as taxman – who, according to the footnote, wants a share, a “divvy,” of your land, including its babbling brook. 306.15: LM 2: “Cato:” synonymous with stern republican virtues – hence adjacent to “Duty” (.15) 306.18-19: “Is the Pen Mightier than the Sword?:” goes with LM 2 “Julius Caesar,” may be obvious: pen = The Gallic Wars. Caesar was accomplished at using both, the pen and the sword. 306.24: “the Indulgence of Portiuncula:” Portiuncula is a church built by Saint Francis, at which Jesus appeared and granted his request of a papal indulgence for all sinners who visited. The church became a popular pilgrimage destination. Wikipedia: “The Porziuncola indulgence could at first be gained only in the Porziuncola chapel between the afternoon of 1 August and sunset on 2 August,” the date of “the feast of Our Lady of the Angels of the Porzioncula.” (No idea what any of this has to do with Socrates, in LM 2, in the slot to which it ought to correspond.) 306.25: “The Dublin Metropolitan Police Sports at Ballsbridge:” goes with LM 2 “Ajax,” the musclebound lunkhead. “Grace,” “Lestrygonians,” and FW (e.g. 186.19-22) all reflect this view of the DMP. Mink confirms that Ballsbridge was/is a site for athletic events. On the other hand, it was Ajax the Lesser (no relation) who was outraced by Odysseus in the funeral games held for Patroclus. This Ajax apparently combines both. 306.27: “What morals, if any, can be drawn from Diarmuid and Grania?:” LM 2 Marcus Aurelius goes with this question, and one moral he, like King Mark, might have learned from the story would have been not to trust his young wife with other men. Marcus’ wife Faustina was, according to tradition, notoriously promiscuous; her son and future emperor Commodus, the beginning of the end for the empire (see 3.2 and note), was, according to Gibbon, not her husband’s. Fn. 1: "The divvy wants that babbling brook. Dear Auntie Emma Emma Eates:" Digger Dialects (see 321.20 and note): a "babbling brook" is an army cook. With ("Eates") eats, slang for food, probably referring to the "mugs and grubs" over which they are ("doodling") dawdling (.8-9) Also, "Dear Auntie:" a "phrase signifying utter weariness and disgust." The editors also have "Emma Emma Eates" as "From the signal alphabet, MMS, Men may smoke." Fn. 3: “R. C., disengaged, good character, would help, no salary:” linked to “A Successful Career in the Civil Service” (306.19-20). A want ad, typical of those in Irish newspapers of the time, either seeking a position in service (here, “Civil Service”) or advertising for one – given “no salary,” probably the latter. Also, perhaps, “No salary” because Athenian statesmen, e.g. the LM 2 Pericles corresponding to the “Civil Service” to which this note is, again, linked, were usually unpaid. Fn. 4: “Where Lily is a Lady found the nettle rash:” linked to “The Voice of Nature in the Forest” (.20-1). 1. Hyacinth is a kind of lily. In Ovid’s Metamorphoses, the lily-like Hyacinth is changed into the flower of that name. 2. Nettle rash, like Poison Ivy, is most likely to be picked up in forests or other uncultivated areas. Hooray for “Nature” and its “Voice”s and all that, but there are drawbacks. Fn. 6: “Able seaman’s caution:” “Able Bodied Seaman:” as in “Eumaeus,” “A. B. S.” for short: certificate of competence for a British sailor. For one such, “the Wreck of the Hesperus” (.26-7), to which this is linked, would be a “caution”ary tale. Also, Odysseus, linked by way of this note to the title of the poem corresponding to the Odyssey, by the LM 2-corresponding “Homer,” was a seaman, was wrecked, and was cautious. 307.5-7: “Since our Brother Johnathan Signed the Pledge or the Meditations of Two Young Spinsters:” “Johnathan” is Jonathan Swift, stringing along the two spinster Esthers, and, as someone in lifelong battle against saying “the thing which is not,” goes with LM 1’s “Diogenes,” the Cynic, looking for an honest man. Also, for most of the FW years, the United States, popularly called “Brother Jonathan” in Britain, was under Prohibition – as the Irish would put it, had signed the pledge against drinking. 307.8: “Hengler’s Circus Entertainment:” goes with LM “Nestor:” see McHugh, and add this, from The Royal Magazine (1907), Vol 18, p. 310: “At one time London boasted of three permanent equestrian houses – Astley’s, Hengler’s, and the Holborn Amphitheatre.” 307.8-9: “On Thrift:” goes with LM 1 “Cincinnatus:” perhaps because Cincinnatus, financially ruined in court, was forced to make his living on a small farm. 307.13: “Our Allies the Hills:” goes with LM 1 “Samson:” a real poser, this. The Bible is no help, but Googling around comes up with the information that Samson was of the tribe of Dan, which was (biblehub.com) “restricted to the hills by Amorites.” 307.16-7: "The Shame of Slumdom:" possible allusion to Lincoln Steffans, The Shame of the Cities 307.17-8: “The Roman Pontiffs and the Orthodox Churches:” goes with LM 1 names “Pompeius Magnus” and Miltiades Strategos.” Apparently the point is that the former was a Roman general (hence the connection to the Roman pope), the latter a Greek general (the Greek Orthodox counterpart). 307.26-7: “Proper and Regular Diet Necessity For:” long shot: link to Fn. 9 (“Ere we hit the hay, brothers, let’s have that response to prayer!”) may reflect the fact that American campaigns for healthy (usually meaning vegetarian, bland, anaphrodisiac) diets often had an evangelical side. The best-known proponent, Harvey Kellogg, was a proselytizing Seventh Day Adventist. 307.27-308.1: “If You Do It Do It Now. Delays are Dangerous. Vitavite!:” Oxford editors replace the period after “Now” with a comma, making this one unit, corresponding to the last LM item, “Darius. Xenophon.” The Darius in question is probably not the Persian leader defeated at Marathon but rather Darius III, whose losses to Alexander, in some accounts anyway, were in part owing to his hesitating to engage. As for Xenophon, there was nothing hesitant about him. 307. Fn. 1: “Jests and the Beastalk with a little rude hiding rod:” the latter is the clitoris. Compare 296.27, 296.28, above. Jack’s “Beastalk” – Being-stalk – is its counterpart, the erect penis. Link is to a coeducational “Animus” – “Anima,” mixed-sex male-female, with a probable glance at Jung. For all this, of course, the matching LM 1 entry, “Tiresias,” is perfect. Fn. 2: “Wherry like the whaled prophet in a spookeerie:” linked to a segment about Jonathan Swift and the two Esthers (.5-7). I suggest this alludes to Yeats’ Words Upon the Windowpane, in which Swift and the two Esthers are summoned by a Dublin séance. “Spookeerie” = eeriness, or a show featuring eeriness; a spook is, of course, a ghost. Fn. 3: “What sins is pim money sans Paris?:” what’s the use of having spending money if we can’t go to Paris and spend it there? Link is to “On Thrift:” not spending money, pin or otherwise, would be an example. From an Irish point of view, at least (compare Little Chandler with Gallaher in “A Little Cloud”), Paris would be a center of sin. Fn. 4: “I’ve lost the place, where was I?” Me too. Not surprising at this point, mainly because the LM item corresponding to “Since…Spinsters” (.5-7) uniquely gives three names - “Tiresias, Procne, Philomela” – making it easy to lose track, and the next five items are, by the standards of this exercise, exceptionally obscure. (“Travelling in the Olden Times” is “Jacob?” Really? It could apply as well to easily half the names on the list.) For this reader anyway the “Theocritus” – “American Lake Poetry” – not coincidentally linked to the plaintive Fn. 4 – marks the point where the correspondences once again become relatively straightforward. Fn. 5: “Something happened that time I was asleep:” linked to “the Strangest Dream that was ever Halfdreamt” (.11-2), by “Joseph” – clearly, a likely spell for losing one’s bearings 308.2: “Mox:” given context, perhaps an overtone of Nox, night 308.5, 1.5: RM 1, RM 2: beef tea (“BEEFTAY’S”) and (“KAKAO-“) cocoa before going to bed. As best I can find, the Ann Lynch brand (.2) sold neither. 308.16-25: “NIGHTLETTER…too):” Western Union introduced night letters in 1910. Word by word, they cost one tenth as much as the usual telegram, provided that the number of words did not exceed fifty. From “With” to “too,” the count here comes to forty-eight – forty-nine if “NIGHTLETTER” is included, fifty if it is read, as it normally would be, as two separate words. (Some of FW’s typical portmanteau words – “youlldied,” “preprosperousness” – may be doing double duty, compressed to stay under the word-count limit.) Night letters had to be entered before midnight to qualify, and would be sent overnight, when the telegraph lines were much less busy than during the day. This one seems to be variant on the traditional “Christmas letter,” sent by Irish Americans who had prospered enough as “new yonks” to be able to send money or valuables to their families back home, in the “land of the livvey.” It may have a connection with the FW letter of 111.5-23, which includes a “thankyou” for a “beautiful present” (111.13-4), but that letter specifically comes from Boston, not New York. Transatlantic night letters would have traveled by way of the Atlantic Cable, and at 434.31 Boston’s Oliver Wendell Holmes is witnessed by someone with “eyes darkled on the autocart of the bringfast cable.” 308.18: “old folkers:” old fuckers 308.20: “land of the livvey:” land of the living; Ireland, land of the Liffey 308.20-22: “plenty of preprosperousness through their coming new yonks:” that they will grow rich upon emigrating to America – or have grown rich already - and becoming new Yanks in New York. 308.24-5: “jake, jack and little sousoucie (the babes that mean too):” Jake as short for Jacob: James. Jack as informal equivalent of John. James and John (Stanislaus) Joyce: biographical origin of FW’s brother battles. According to Ellmann, the last of John Joyce’s children, Mabel Josephine Anne Joyce, was called “Baby.” Second picture in left margin: an X: the “mark” made by an illiterate, one of the X’s with which FW’s letter always ends. Also the “X” of (Merry) Xmas, to be sure compromised by the “skool” of skull and crossbones, as “Yuletide greetings” are also “Youlldied greedings” (.18).
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