(403.1: “Hark!:” likely a response to 399.29-30. See note.
403.1-4: “Hark! Tolv two elf kater ten (it can’t be) sax. Hork! Pedwar pemp foify tray (it must be) twelve:” 1. Simultaneously/alternately forwards and backwards, from one to twelve, from twelve to one. As to be expected, there are complications. For instance, the count adds up to twelve syllables by itself, fourteen if “Hark!” and “Hork!” are included, twenty if the parenthetical comments are factored in. “Foify tray” sounds like forty-three or four-two (twain) and is followed (after parenthetical aside) by a word which begins with “tw-“and reads numerically as 12, perhaps raising the possibility that the hearer, whose interpretations and interjections complicate matters throughout, ear-skipped, in his count-down sequence, the numbers two and one, in order to accommodate the “twelve” of his count-up sequence. As for the count-down: in Joyce’s description, recorded in McHugh, the chronology, signaled by the fourteen stations of the cross, is backwards. Accordingly, the first few pages should somewhere register either the twelfth or fourteenth of the stations – Jesus’ death on the cross, or the body of Jesus being placed in the tomb. Your annotator cannot discern either, or any of the others later on, and as McHugh notes elsewhere in his The Finnegans Wake Experience, it’s not clear whether Joyce was describing the course of III.1 or of all of III. (But see 424.26 and note.) Still, the backward-counting here would seem to indicate something along that line. 2. During the count-down/count-up, only ten numbers are registered. Apparently “(it can’t be)” and “(it must be),” whether thought or spoken, supersede the sound of the fifth and eleventh tollings. Overall, I suggest that things are set up to accommodate either ten, twelve, or fourteen strokes, either way. Again, the sequence, as usual, is being processed through a specific sensory and perceptual apparatus, compromised and inconstant in its attentiveness, in this case of someone just waking up. See next entry. 403.5: “And low stole o’er the stillness the heartbeats of sleep:” cessation of bell-ringing leaves a sensory vacuum that is filled by the sound of the subject’s heartbeat – in medical literature a standard example of normally subliminal noise, here, because cued by the similarly regular and repetitious bell-ringing, temporarily promoted above sensory threshold. That is, the sound is synchronized with and enhanced by what in “Calypso” is the “overtone” following the church bell’s ringing and what in “Sirens” is an “afterclang of Cowley’s [piano] chords.” “Afterclang”/“after-clang” was a term, current in the experimental psychology of the time, for such lingering reverberations; coincidentally or not, a 1908 monograph on the subject reports that “the deeper fibers of the contra octave of the piano…produce their twelfth, yes even their fourteenth, partial tone as a most splendid after-clang of the tone.” 403.6: “White fogbow spans:” 1. The same effect is present in the foggy opening of “Circe,” with similarly prismatic results – e. g. “Rare lamps with faint rainbow fans” – refracting white fog into rainbow colors. (Again, McHugh records that the paragraph (.6-17) includes all seven colors.) Also as in “Circe,” different painterly effects can result: here, sometimes Rembrandt (.10), sometimes the Impressionists, sometimes Picasso or Picasso-like. 2. In The Golden Ass by Apulius (originally entitled The Metamorphoses, and a major contributor to this chapter), the speaker is transformed to an ass, and his concluding vision is of Isis, personification of the rainbow. 3. As it did for Joyce in Zurich, suddenly seeing rainbow colors can signify the onset of an attack of glaucoma. See 407.11-3 and note. 403.6: “White fogbow spans. The arch embattled:” from Ralph Waldo Emerson’s “Concord Hymn:“ “By the rude bridge that arched the flood /… Here once the embattled farmers stood.” The Concord bridge is indeed “arched,” that is, rainbow-shaped. 403.7: “nasoes:” given the chapter’s persistent Roman theme (Virgil’s First Eclogue appears in the next line), this likely alludes to Ovid, that is Publius Ovidius Naso. “Naso” was a cognomen based on Ovid’s prominent nose. (See .13 and note.) 403.7: “nasoes. It is self-tinted…ruddled:” a life of heavy drinking has given him a red nose. (F. Scott Fitzgerald reported that the Joyce of late middle age had one. See also 182.4-11.) For “self-tinted,” compare Bloom, in “Hades,” on a drinker’s red nose: “A lot of money he spent colouring it.” 403.8: “His kep is a gorsecone:” his hat or cap is peaked like a cone. 403.8-9: “Gascon Titubante of Tegmine – sub – Fagi:” Virgil’s First Eclogue (see McHugh) is addressed to Tityrus, a shepherd taking his ease in a rural setting removed from Rome; to the French, Gascons are or were similarly rough and provincial. 403.10: “wobiling befear my remembrandts:” wobbly remembrances: not a bad description of the chapter just ended 403.10: “remembrandts:” probably because the setting is dark, as in Rembrandt’s paintings 403.11: “prayings in lowdelph:” possibly: prayers in Low Dutch, as opposed to High Dutch, jokily supposed to have been the language of Eden 403.11: “lowdelph:” what with all the art in the vicinity, probably an allusion to the School of Delft. Joyce owned a reproduction of View of Delft by one of its members, Vermeer. 403.12-3: “eggbrooms:” eyebrows 403.13: “becco of wild hindigan:” mixture of Hindu and (American) “wild Indian” recalls Columbus’ mistake. American Indians – as in the American nickel in circulation at the time – proverbially had large, straight noses, what in other circumstances might be called a “Roman” nose. Compare first note to .15. 403.14: ”Pensee!" pansy. As sometimes elsewhere in FW, the rainbow colors are accompanied by flowers; as McHugh notes, one of the sources is Ophelia on flowers, one of which, not included at .10-11, is “pansies.” Because of the flower’s resemblance to the face of a little man in thought, “pansy” derives from French pensée. 403.15: “veilch veilchen veilde:” echo of “wild wild west,” where wild Indians could be found. Compare “Sirens:” “that minstrel boy of the wild wet west.” Both versions of the expression were current in Joyce’s time. Another, secondary echo: “whole wide world.” 403.15: “veilde:” veldt – a wild place 403.16-7: “with obscidian luppas, her aal in her dhove’s suckling:” fellatio, as occasionally insinuated in the previous chapter: compare 396.31 and note. Hence (“obscidian luppas”) obscene lips 403.16: “obscidian:” obsidian is pitch-black. 403.17: “Apagemonite!:” probably an outburst consistent with the accusation of obscene doings. (See .16-7 and note.) The Agapemones were widely suspected of illicit sex on a large scale. 403.17: “Come not nere! Black! Switch out!:” OED on “blackout:” “The darkening of a stage, as between scenes, during a performance.” (Here, apparently, worked with a light switch.) For “nere!...Black,” see next entry. Given what was being witnessed (see previous entry), either a command (“Come not nere!”) or a panicky decision to stop looking, perhaps at what your annotator and others consider to be FW’s recurring primal scene, the love-making of the parents. Compare, for instance, 581.23-5. In FW, retribution sometimes takes the form of blindness, total or partial, e.g. “One eyegonblack” (16.29). One Joyce note reads: "Mark blind when he sees T & I [Tristram and Iseult] do it," that is, have sex. Recalls the tradition, probably most familiar from Chaucer's "Merchant's Tale," of the blindness of cuckolds. FW also incorporates the "Peeping Tom" story, of the voyeur who was blinded in one eye for peeping at the naked Lady Godiva. Compare next entry. 403.17: “nere!:” McHugh: nero, Italian for black. Also, as Nero, more Roman material 403.18-405.2: “Methought…himself.:” as McHugh notes, the preceding paragraph includes all seven colors of the rainbow. Arguably, so does this paragraph: “violet” (403.22), “indigo” (404.18), (“carrot” (404.24)) orange, “red” (.25), (“peas” (404.29)) green, (“yeggyyolk” (404.29-30)) yellow. Blue? Shaun wears a version of the “starspangled” (404.27) banner, whose colors are red, white, and blue. (In A Wake Newslitter No. 6, pp. 317-8, Thornton Wilder suggests a similar reading.) 403.20: “at zero hour:” compare note to .1-4. Zero as at the end of a count-down, midnight as 12:00 p.m., a zero point between one time-count and another. Another FW intersection of opposites. At .18 the sleeper was “somepart in nonland” – noon, none. 403.20: “at zero hour as ‘twere the peal of vixen’s laughter:” foxes are nocturnal, and their barks are sometimes compared to laughter. 403.20-1: “midnight’s chimes:” “We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow” – Henry IV, Part II 403.22-3: “nighthood’s unseen violet rendered all animated greatbritish and Irish objects nonviewable to human watchers:” unlike (British) red and (Irish) green, ultraviolet (see McHugh), present in the night sky, is invisible to most humans. Equal-oppositely, a being able to see ultraviolet would be blind to those daylight colors – some night insects, for instance, or according to studies not around in Joyce’s time, bats. Night insects will show up 404.4-7, “echoating,” in which word, studies or no studies, your annotator is tempted to hear an overtone of batlike “echolocation.” (Note “batblack night” at 405.36.) 403.24-404.3: “some glistery…expectation:” the only things visible at this stage are the Liffey and the laundry drying on its banks, as last seen in I.8. They were white then, at dusk, but now, by nightlight, a barely visible violet. 404.1: “affluvial:“ effluent – all too accurate a term, at least at the time: in Ulysses, both Bloom and Stephen comment on the “sewage” of the Liffey and the waters to which it contributes. 404.2: “might seem:” night scene – as in one of Whistler’s “nocturnes” – or, of course, Rembrandt’s Night Watch. 404.3: “ leasward:” leeward 404.6: “dancetongues of the woodfires:” compare Portrait, chapter two: the “firelight leaping and dancing.” 404.6-7: “the hummers in their ground all vociferated echoating:” OED: “hummer:” “an insect that hums” 404.8-11: “and low, I heard him so! And lo, mescemed somewhat came of the noise and somewho might move allmurk. Now, ‘twas as clump, now mayhap. When look, was light and now’twas as flasher:” commences a Gestaltian series of perception/recognition. The sound, “heard,” attracts the viewer’s attention to a certain spot, where, because the eye follows a moving object, foreground (Shaun, as barrel rolling down the river) begins to be distinguished from static background (“-murk”) as amorphous “clump” grows more discernible and defined. Part of the process is due to the seer’s pupils dilating as he adapts to the dark, something Joyce tracks elsewhere, e.g. “The Sisters” and “Circe.” Also (see .12 and note; by 405.9-12, when “the hundred and sixty odds rods and cones” are activated (but see note to 405.12), Shaun will be fully apprehended, (“in proper person”)) in propria persona. Also, Shaun is, simply, getting closer; by .14 he is (McHugh) “lightseyes,” lifesize. 404.11-2: “When look, was light and now’twas as flasher, now moren as the glaow:” As the light comes more into sight, it goes from intermittent to steady radiance – from flashing to glowing. Compare the “flickering” described in .15-6 note. 404.11: “flasher:” lighthouse. Compare 215.1: “Poolbeg flasher.” 404.12: “unlitness:” a littleness – contrast with “lightseyes” (lifesize) of .14: Shaun is “growing” (.15) before the viewer’s eyes. 404.14-5: “momence, O romence:” moments, O Romans 404.15-6: “Ay, he so swayed a will of a wisp before me:” “wisp” as in “wisp of a thing” – something diminutive and barely detectable. Note past-tense “swayed:” that was him then, but in the succeeding lines he will have grown into something very substantial indeed. This change parallels his growth from dimly flickering glint in the “allmurk” (.10) to glowing postman’s lamp, from indistinct “clump” (.10) to a recognizable human figure whose clothes can be catalogued in considerable detail (.16-30), from (“unlitness” (.12)) littleness to (“lighstseyes” (.14)) lifesize. 404.15-6: “a will of a wisp:” Wikipedia: a “will-o-the-wisp” is “an atmospheric ghost light seen by travelers at night, especially over bogs, swamps, or marshes.” It is “said to mislead travelers by resembling a flickering lamp or lantern.” Compare 215.1-2: “Is that the Poolbeg flasher beyant, pharphar, or a fireboat coasting nyar the Kishtna or a glow I behold within a hedge…?” (As McHugh notes, the “garments of laundry reposing” by the “affluvial flowandflow” (.1-2), first sighted at 158.30-159.5, trace back to the laundry being washed and left to dry in the same sequence of I.8.) 404.16: “to hand:” that is, nearby 404.17: “mac:” macintosh, here combined with frieze overcoat 404.17: “mac Frieze o’coat:” Joyce to Nora (September 1, 1904): “Did you ever see the men that go round with Guinness’s cars, dressed in enormous frieze overcoats?” Shaun is also a barrel of Guinness, floating down the river. 404.18: “suparior:” above par (superior), with equal-opposite overtone of sub-par 404.18: “tracked and tramped:” perhaps from an impression of the barrel’s slats 404.19: “Irish ferrier:” Irish tarrier – an Irish laborer set to work on the railroad (hence “tracked” (.18)) in America, popularized by the American song “Drill Ye Tarriers.” (Exact meaning of “tarrier” is uncertain.) Also, from Latin ferrum, iron - metal-worker: see next entry. 404.20: “hammered:” available on YouTube: the Guinness Brewery’s film (enter “Guinness barrel-making”) of a Joyce-era barrel being produced shows the ends of metal strips being hammered together, turning them into hoops. 404.20-21: “to suit the scotsmost public and climate:” that is, made waterproof to suit the wet climate. “Scotsmost:” besides Scotch mist, upper-class outdoorsy – the kind of fashion associated with gentlemen shooting grouse on the Scottish moors. (American equivalent: Abercrombie and Fitch.) Compare Bloom, in “Circe” (15.536-9), in his brief incarnation as such a character, “in an oatmeal sporting suit, a sprig of woodbine in the lapel, tony buff shirt, shepherd's plaid Saint Andrew's cross scarftie, white spats, fawn dustcoat on his arm, tawny red brogues, fieldglasses in bandolier and a grey billycock hat.” Compare entry for .21. 404.21: “iron heel:” a common expression for tyrannical rule. Stage-Irishman or not, Shaun takes his orders from the (“R.M.D.” (.31)), Royal Mail, that is, the British crown. (By 411.24 (see note), when royal-red pillar boxes and such are being repainted Irish green, he will, predictably enough, be changing his colors.) 404.22-3: “a softrolling lisp of a lapel to it:” more signs of “classy” (.17) demeanor and dress – an aristocratic lisp, lapels with just the right roll. Compare today’s “Brooks Brothers collar roll.” (For men’s jacket’s “roll of lapel,” see Google Images.) 404.22: “providence well provided woolies:” sheep were provided by providence to supply us with wool. 404.23: “great sealingwax buttons, a good helping bigger than the slots for them:” in Joyce’s time, a drop of sealing wax was called a button. Until fairly recently, letters and envelopes had been sealed with wax. Here, the seals are sometimes so big (“great”) that the letters can’t fit through the mail slots, like buttons too big to get through the buttonholes. 404.23: “a good helping:” as in first/second, etc. helping of food 404.24: “them:” antecedent: “woolies.” Again (see first note to .23), the buttons are too big for the buttonholes. 404.25: “invulnerable:” invariable. Also, if not quite invulnerable, burlap is rugged. 404.25: “burlap whiskcoat:” “Burlap barrel covers” were used to protect barrels – including, presumably, Guinness’s. 404.26: “choker:” perhaps the barrel’s top hoop, fastening the rim and corresponding to the position of collar or cravat 404.26: “Tamagnum sette-and-forte:” compare 403.9, “Tegmine – sub Fagi,” with McHugh note. 404.26: “loud boheem toy:” La Bohème (McHugh) character Parpignol, a toy vendor 404.28: “crinklydoodle front:” ruffles on a fancy-dress shirt. Also, as McHugh notes, Yankee Doodle: Shaun will later be heading to America “to quest a cashy job” (562.31). John McCormack, Shaun’s main model, did so well in America that, to quote Glasheen, during WW I “Woodrow Wilson begged him” to “stay on the homefront ‘to keep the fountains of sentiment flowing.’” He was an Irish (“crinklydoodle”) Yankee-Doodler. 404.29: “embrothred:” embossed 404.29-31: “embrothred over it in peas, rice and yeggyyolk…turnups:” fashionable or not, the clothes have food stains, evidently from (“-broth-”) soup. 404.30: “Or…Am:” Omega…Alpha 404.30: “cash on the nail:” an expression virtually indistinguishable from “cash on the barrelhead” 404.31-3: “most successfully carried gigot turnups now you ever, (what a pairfact crease! How amsolookly kersse!) breaking over the ankle and hugging the shoeheel:” having the turned-up cuffs (“turnups”) of one’s trousers break at just the right spot over the shoetops was a mark of superior men’s tailoring (and butlering). 404.32: “pairfact:” because there are two pants legs 404.34: “turtle’s blessings:” a sign of 1. (as turtledove) romantic love, 2. (also, as dove) sacred love (e.g. the dove at the Annunciation), and 3. prosperity (turtle soup, in its time as much a token of luxury as caviar) as in “souptumbling” (35)). (Compare 253.9-11.) Also, 4. Dinners traditionally begin with a soup serving. 404.35: “Haggispatrick:” given high incidence of food in this passage, probably refers to the (in)famous Scottish dish. 404.35: “souptumbling:” stumbling 405.5: “Dr Tarpey:” Luke, the apostle corresponding to Munster’s Tarpey, was a physician. 405.5-6: “and I dorsay the reverend Mr Mac Dougall’s:” the “and I daresay” note of condescension to Johnny is typical throughout FW – almost always last in line, sometimes laggard, presumed backward. 405.6: “I, poor ass:” the speaker of The Golden Ass (see first note to 403.6) is Lucius, translated to a donkey. 405.7-9: “Yet methought Shaun (holy messonger angels be uninterruptedly nudging him among and along the winding ways of random ever!):” recalls Numbers 22:21-33 story of Balaam’s (talking) ass, following directions of angel rather than his rider. “Angel” means (“messonger”) messenger – here, one seen in a (French songe) dream. 405.9-10: “blueblacksliding constellations:” a feature of an “expanding umniverse” (410.17) 405.10-11: “changeable timetable!:” the zodiac was used as a calendar; shifting the positions of the constellations would make it changeable. (As, of course, it was in any case, before the Julian calendar.) 405.12: “the hundred and sixty odds rods and cones:” a minor crux here: as was known at the time, the eye’s rods and cones number in the millions. An authorial goof? Or something to do with Joyce’s drastically restricted vision? Or just the fact that it’s night? 405.12: “odds…even’s:” odd and even 405.12: “even’s:” evening’s 405.12-3: “even’s vision:” evening vision – a recurring term in studies of eyesight, from the late 19th century to the present. Would go with this sequence’s preoccupation with the mechanics of vision – e.g. “rods and cones.” Consider “nighthood’s unseen violet” (403.22) and “blueblacksliding constellations” (.9-10) in light of this excerpt from an article in the 1918 Transactions of The Illuminating Engineering Society: “If, throughout the day, we are being adapted to yellow, the blue after-effect of this exposure should be expected to combine with the neutral gray of evening vision, making the latter seem somewhat blue and cold…Long and constant vision has caused us to add to the actual physical data of evening vision a certain amount of blueness.” FW several times (e.g. 99.29-30) presents examples of red-green afterimages. 405.13-4: “the Bel of Beaus’ Walk:” reverses the expected – and (see .28-9 and note) more appropriate – Beau of Belles’ Walk. Also (with recent ringing of church bell), an echo of Bow Bells, as in “born within the sound of Bow Bells” – identifying him as a London Cockney. In this regard, a case of equal-opposites: a Cockney versus a beau. See next entry. 405.14: “a prime cad:” a beau would have considered a Cockney a cad. Also, cad in sense of a man who toys with a woman’s affections – again, see .28-9 and note. Also, a “prime card” (yet again, see .28-9 and note) is (in this equal-oppositely) a colloquial term for a first-rate fellow. 405.14: “Pep?:” American slang for energy, in sense of vim and vigor. (First OED instance is 1908.) Probably in sense of rhetorical call-and-response: “Pep?” “You betcha!” 405.15: “fired:” Guinness barrels were “fired” inside to remove impurities in the wood: again (404.20 note), can be seen on YouTube. 405.17ff.: “There was one..:” Shaun will become a version of John McCormack. Although by the standards of operatic singers McCormack was not all that heavy, FW will make him grossly fat, in contrast to Shem, who like Joyce himself is notably the opposite. This line commences the tale of his prodigious food-consumption. 405.18: “could aight through the months without a sign of an err in hem:” the eight months when one can safely eat oysters have an “r” in their names. (Your annotator believes that FW's default date is set in one of them, March. Probably not accidental that, what with all those oysters, at .20 he should have “oyeglances.” 405.19: “rounding:” getting round(er), from all the food 405.19: “fourale to:” see entry for .18. “Four” completes tally of twelve months. Also, “fall to:” casual term for starting to eat with an appetite 405.20: “lees:” dregs of drink, especially wine. Compare the publican of p. 382. 405.21: “hencoop:” a cooper is a barrel-maker. 405.21: “He was immense, topping, swell:” Immense! Topping! Swell! – all slang terms at the time for super-duper 405.23: “porterhouse:” as in porterhouse steak – see .35. Also “Porter House,” the New York eating place said to have given the cut its name. (Here, the name of the establishment is apparently either St. Lawrence O’Toole’s or The Wheel of Fortune – for the latter, see McHugh.) 405.23: “scutfrank:” scotfree (Can mean “free of charge”) 405.25-6: “no chucks for walnut ketchups, Lazenby’s and Chutney graspis:” Lazenby is or was a brand of condiments, including walnut ketchup and chutney, which might at the time have been considered suitable for steak. (More likely for (“chucks”) chuck steak, generally considered inferior to porterhouse.) Here, the establishment offers condiments (“graspis”) gratis; at 406.31-2, jam will also be “free of charge.” 405.28: “frumped:” in her later years, Queen Victoria (see McHugh) was widely considered to be a frump. 405.28-9: “in the sight of lovely eyes while his knives of hearts made havoc:” his knifework (while eating) enchanted the females watching him. In fortune-telling the knave of hearts is a lady-killing bachelor, and here he is making havoc with presumably female (the ones with the “lovely eyes”) hearts. In the nursery rhyme it’s the king of hearts who eats the tarts; here it’s the knave. Also, remembering Bloom in “Calypso” - “He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart” – literally eating a heart, cutting it up with his knife and fork. 405.32: “pranzipal meals:” the three principal (“prandial”) meals of the day 405.33: “O blood:” type O blood 405.33-4: “half of a pint of becon with newled googs:” bacon and (new-laid) eggs, clearly – but a simple Google search yields scores of hits for “pint of bacon” (sometimes “half paint of bacon”) - evidently bacon soaking in a mug of beer, and at .35 we get “cold forsoaken steak.” Steak is in fact sometimes soaked to soften it up, but bacon? In beer? Also, I can find no recorded cases of the phrase during Joyce’s time. (Which, to be sure, doesn’t necessarily mean it wasn’t around.) Note that at 406.3 and 403.15 “bacon” is also on the menu: the man likes his bacon. 405.35: “some cold forsoaken steak peatrefired:” cooked over a peat fire. Also, if it’s tough enough to be described as petrified, it definitely needs to be soaked. (See previous entry.) Echo of “godforsaken” (McHugh) recalls heretics being burned at the stake, something to be expected from this righteous carnivore: compare “fried-at-belief-stakes” (170.33). 405.36: “o’erflown then:” I suggest a comma-like pause before “then.” 406.5: “proprietoress of the roastery:” prioress of the Rosary (Convent) – perhaps Ireland’s Holy Rosary Convent. At the time, a “roastery” would have been a place for meat, not coffee. 406.7: “gorger’s:” gorgeous 406.10: “saddlebag steak:” compare “saddle of veal” in “Cyclops;” also the fairly common expression “saddle of steak,” evidently a choice cut - although a saddlebag, usually made of leather, would suggest the contrary. 406.11: “praties sweet and Irish too:” both sweet potatoes and Irish potatoes 406.11-2: “mock gurgle:” mock turtle soup, being guzzled with a gurgle 406.12: “gurgle…swp by swp:” the first is onomatopoetic, the second a kind of alphabetical equivalent – eliding the vowel or vowels to imitate the brevity of action and sound. 406.13: “Boland’s broth broken:” breaking bread, into the soup. (See McHugh:” “broth:” soup, German Brot for bread) 406.15: “carusal:” carousal, in sense of carousing 406.16: “steak…the diamond bone:” compare “diamond-bone sirloins” in “The Dead.” They pop up on the internet, but I haven’t been able to find out what they are. Also, Oxford editors have “diamond pepper bone.” I can’t track that one down either, but a “diamond pepper” is a variety of bell pepper, and there is such a thing as Steak au poivre. 406.17: “timmtomm:” tiptop 406.17: “scoffed:” American equivalent is “scarfed” – to eat voraciously. 406.17-8: “drakeling:” presumably by analogy with “duckling.” 406.19: “in their green free state a clister of peas, soppositorily petty:” green peas, of course, but overtones of “clyster” and “suppository” (McHugh) suggest that here as elsewhere in FW – above all in the prankquean episode of I.1 - “pea” can equal “pee” (see next two entries), and that Joyce may, deliberately or not, be confusing a suppository with a catheter. 406.20: “P.S.:” cued by “peas” (.19) 406.20: “fingerhot of rheingenever:” hot because gin is a “gulletburn” drink (171.14). Also: long shot: Joyce’s drink of choice was Fendant de Sion, from a vineyard on the banks the Rhône River, a tributary of Lake Geneva. Rhône wine is not Rhine (or Rhein, or Rhenish) wine, and Joyce liked to call his drink the Archduchess’s, not the (reine) Queen’s, Urine, but the similarities in play are at least suggestive. See the two preceding entries for peas – P.S. – pees linkage. And, again, “fingerhot:” in “Circe,” Bello orders Bloom to drink her urine “piping hot.” “Fingerhot” probably echoes “firstshot,” the first distillation of spirits – usually whisky, but at 171.13 it’s “firstserved firstshot or gulletburn gin.” 406.21: “Burud and dulse:” bread, with something (“dulse:” dulce) sweet, would be standard fare at teatime. 406.21: “Drily thankful:” both wine and gin can be “dry.” (In fact, a dry martini is one with a slightly higher gin content than usual.) Also, as McHugh notes, “truly thankful,” as in the familiar formula for grace at meals, “For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful.” (Followed by (“aman” (.22), amen.) Another version, one more appropriate here, has “have received” instead: compare 456.9-10: “For quid we have recipimus, recipe, O lout!” 406.23: “and bigger!:” Shaun is still approaching, still getting bigger in the eyes of the viewer. Compare .29: “thicker will he grow now.” Both passages also refer to his increasing girth, from all the eating. 406.23-4: “While the loaves are aflowering and the nachtingale jugs:” as with other birds, the nightingale’s song occurs most frequently during the breeding (“loaves:” loves) season, Spring, which is also the season when the trees (with (“loaves,”) leaves - see McHugh) start to blossom, that is to (“aflowering”) flower. Also, of course, the “loaves” of bread are made with flour. As McHugh notes, nachtigall is German for nightingale. Since ((“-gale”) “Gale”) is German for Gael, the nightingale here is, unsurprisingly, Irish. 406.25: “hurrah:” given context (McHugh identifies the person addressed as a barmaid), probably hurry! with the (“tobies” (.25)) toby mugs of brown ale, the “brown pride” of the “house” (.24-5), poured from the “jugs” (.24) 406.25: “Mabhrodaphne, brown pride:” according to Wikipedia, Mavrodaphne is a “dark, almost opaque wine with a dark purple reflected color and a purple-brown transmitted color.” Helps explain the overlap with brown ale, in its mugs, and (“Anne Lynch” (.27): see McHugh) tea, which is also brown. 406.26: “repastful:” a repast is a meal. 406.26-7: “cheerus graciously, cheer us:” tea - to William Cowper, quoted in “Wandering Rocks,” “the cups that cheer but not inebriate” 406.27: “Ever of thee, Anne Lynch, he’s deeply draiming:” as Mink notes, there were several Dublin tea shops run by Anne Lynch and Co. “Thé” (“thee”) is French for tea, a cup of which is here being (“draimed”) drained, that is drunk to the bottom. Given the preceding (“custard house quay” (.26)) Custom House Quay, it's probably pertinent that one shop's address was 1 Talbot Street, about a block from the Custom House, where the (Anna) Liffey is at its (“deeply”) deepest and (“draiming”) drains out to the Irish Sea. HCE sometimes dreams about Anna Livia, whose letter ends with a tea stain, as does FW: "along [thé]the." 406.28: “Houseanna!:” House of Anna! 406.29: “thicker will he grow:” see .23 and note. 406.29-30: “And better and better on butter and butter:” “Every day in every way I’m getting better and better:” English version of the formula recited daily by followers of self-help guru Émile Coué. In this case Shaun is getting, if not better, bigger, from all the fattening butter. 406.31-2: “nuckling down to nourritures, were they menuly some ham and jaffas:” pig’s knuckles. Again, the man likes his bacon – or rather, make that any part of a pig, including ham. See entry for .32. “Nuckling down to” as in, getting down to the basics, in this case, food. You are what you eat. 406.31: “menuly:” merely what’s on the (French menue, small) menu. Actually, not really: he wants more than that. An example of understatement, like “I had a drop to drink.” 406.32: “ham and jaffas:” recipe for baked/smoked ham and oranges 406.33: “guilbey:” Gilbey’s Gin 406.36: “thermidor oogst or floreal may:” French Revolutionary Thermidor extends from July to (“oogst”) August, Floreal from April to ("may”) May. 406.36: “thermidor oogst:” recipe for Eggs Thermidor: toast with poached (“oogst”) eggs, tomatoes, buttered lobster, asparagus, and Béchamel 406.36-407.1: "floreal may...roysters:" the French Revolutionary Floreal includes both April and, as here, "May:" the first month OK for oysters, the second not. 407.1: "whistling prairial roysters:" Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 2022) report on a London tavern called "The Whistling Oyster," named for an oyster which in fact, in certain conditions, whistled. Whistling or not, oysters would be out of bounds in the French Revolution late-summer month of Prairial, occurring in two months, May and June, without "r"s. Still, see next entry. 407.1: “roysters:” roisterers. As usual, oysters (see McHugh) are on the menu for their reputedly aphrodisiac qualities: Shaun isn’t hungry just for food. 407.1: “gormandizing:” given misspelling of “gourmand,” this probably combines Joyce’s first biographer, Herbert Gorman, with Maolmuire Gormáin, according to O Hehir the author of a 12th century calendar of saints. As the latter suggests, compare 349.24, “the Martyrology of Gorman.” 407.2: “deah smorregos:” Christiani: “A pun on Swedish smorgås, an open sandwich…and gosse, boy.” Not, in the presence of this gargantuan omnivore, a reassuring combination: compare the “sandwichmen” of “Lestrygonians.” Even less reassuring that, set off by commas, this sounds like an address along the lines of “dear reader.” Cannibalism is certainly an option throughout, as in the previous “menuly some ham and jaffas” (406.31-2) – as McHugh notes, Noah’s sons Shem, Ham, and Japet (sometimes spelled “Japhet”) as “men-.”on the menu 407.3: “doing dirt to a meal:” via digestion, etc. turning food into excrement. In general, to “do dirt” to anything is to debase it. Compare .5-6 and note. 407.4: “smag of a lecker biss:” pretty clear overtone of “liquor.” In “Counterparts” a “smahan” is an alcoholic drink 407.4-5: “welldressed taart or:” tartar sauce is a dressing. (Originally, tarts could be, for instance, meat tarts – they were not necessary a kind of confectionary.) As welldressed female tart, on the bill of fare: again, intimations of both cannibalism and lust 407.5-6: “Though his net intrants wight weighed nought but a flyblow to his gross and ganz afterduepoise:” McHugh and Oxford editors both recommend inserting “exit’s” after “ganz.” With that addition, one reading is that, although the food’s (“intrants wight weighed”) entranceway, his mouth, was relatively small, the volume of excreta issuing from the point of exit, his anus, was immense. Compare the testimony in “Ithaca” that everyone produces an average of eighty pounds of “human excrement” annually. Perhaps pertinent that a “nought” is O or 0, like an open mouth. 407.6: “jarvey jaunty:” in Ireland, a jarvey is the driver of a jaunting car. In “Calypso,” Bloom remembers a jaunty one. 407.7: “romp:” rump 407.7: “romp of a schoolgirl’s completion:” Oxford editors have “complexion” for “completion.” Compare, for instance, 54.26-7: such a complexion would commonly be compared to something like “strawberries and cream:” more food. OED: “romp:” “a lively, playful girl or young woman;” hence “those romps of Murray girls” in “Penelope.” So: he had the (rosy) complexion of a romp of a schoolgirl. Most writers would probably have inserted a comma after “completion”/”complexion.” 407.7: “sitting pretty:” being in an enviable situation 407.8: “print face:” given context, probably front page of the morning newspaper 407.9: “sproke:“ German: sprach 407.11: (“whish, O whish!):” “wisha!” – an Irish interjection, in FW usually given to Luke of Leinster. As McHugh notes, as “whist!” a call for silence. Also, a will-o-the-wisp, for which compare the second entry for 404.15-6. In that earlier sequence, it signified something barely visible, about to become much larger. Here, it signifies Shaun’s voice, about to become much louder but right now barely audible, which is why we are enjoined to “whist,” to hear it. Not coincidentally, this is accompanied by an onset of blindness – sight diminishing as sound is augmenting; compare note to .11-3. 407.11: “mestreamed:” meseemed 407.12: “deafths of durkness:” depths of darkness. Also, Shaun’s voice will be (“greengrown deeper” (.13)) growing deeper. 407.11-3: “green to the gred was flew, was flown, through deafths of durkness greengrown deeper:” green, grey, then, as a deeper darkness, black: rapidly worsening stages of glaucoma, in sequence: his vision has gone from green to (“gred”) grey to black. Again, it is not accidental that sound (and scent; see .10-11 and note, 427.10-11 and note) becomes more pronounced as vision deteriorates: the assumed connection between the two, as old as the tradition of Homer’s blindness, has been substantiated in 21st century laboratory experiments. As elsewhere, this sequence was preceded by rainbow vision (403.6-17), signalling the onset of an attack of glaucoma. 407.13: “greengrown:” “Green grow the rushes O” – folksong with many variants 407.13: “voce:” as in sotto voce. Shaun’s voice is still relatively faint. 407.14: “voise:” voice plus noise. Again: with subsidence of the visual, the audible is gradually increasing. 407.14: “voise from afar:” compare 3.14. 407.14-5: “no purer puer palestrine e’er chanted panangelical mid the clouds of Tu es Petrus:” high mass: the bread of the angels distributed amid music and incense. Also, the city of Petra evolved from the Roman region of Palaestina, from which the name Palestine derives; a figure named Petrus was involved in its early history. 407.14: “purer puer:” voice of a (puer) choirboy. The tone of such singers is often described as pure. 407.14: “e’er:” besides being a contraction for “ever,” “air,” a song 405.15: “Tu es Petrus:” perhaps obvious: “Petrus” is both Peter and Patrick. In the former case, Jesus speaking; in the latter, “the voice of the Irish.” (Perhaps this is as good a place as any to note that their voices spoke to Patrick out of a letter, delivered by a postman.) 407.15: “Michaeleen Kelly:” to my ear, sounds like “Michael calling.” See 384.5. 407.16: “Mara O’Mario:” in context, it’s probably relevant that according to testimony in “Aeolus,” the singer Mario “was said to be the picture of our savior.” 407.17: “Italicuss:” Shaun is Irish, not Italian, but for Joyce as for others, Italians were the gold standard for vocal music, especially for opera. Italicus/a is the Latin adjective for "Italian." 407.17: “rawsucked frish uov in urinal:” operatic singers, such as Mario, often swallowed raw eggs to soothe their throats. Also, it’s possible to suck the contents out of an egg, thus giving birth to the derogatory expression remembered in “Cyclops:” “teach your grandmother to suck eggs.” For “urinal,” see 406.20. 407.17-8: "a brieze to Yverzone o’er the brozaozaozing sea:” a breeze of ozone over the ozoning sea. Compare Portrait, chapter one: “we got a good breath of ozone round the Head today.” (OED: “ozone” is figurative for something “fresh and invigorating.”) 407.18: “Yverzone:” in this context, the initial “Y” identifies the recipient as Issy/Iseult/Yseult. Also, see 323.30 and McHugh and note. The Yver/Issy/ozone layer is instrumental in long-range radio transmission, for instance from Ireland to Nova Scotia; compare next entry, .22 and first note. 407.19: “(morepork! morepork!):” 1. More pork! More pork! Continues Shaun’s food preoccupation, especially for anything having to do with pigs: see 406.31-2 and note. 2. continues convention that the petitioning offshore sailor addresses his beloved, telegraphically, with spondees, here repeated at .19 (“morepork! morepork!”) and .22 (“Tubetube!”) 3. Again, as McHugh notes, “Marconimasts” (.20) were radio antennas fixed on ships at sea. (Also, a “Marconi rig” was a fore-and-aft rig used on cruising and sailing vessels.) 4. Marconi believed that his signals could communicate voices of the dead. (See .22 and note.) “Moor Park” recalls Swift’s days-gone-by voice, from where he met Esther Johnson. 407.19-20: “scented nightlife:” As Bloom speculates in “Nausicaa,” night is an especially “good conductor” for scents, for instance Gerty’s perfume, as well as for radio signals. (Again, see 427.10-11 and note.) Maybe also “scented nightie:” In “The Boarding House,” Polly Mooney seduces Bob Doran in one. 407.20: “sough open tireless secrets:” phrase: open secrets. Broadcasting a secret over the radio would certainly open it up to all listeners. “Sough:” compare 158.5-7, where “sigh” introduces the story of the reeds whispering the secret of Midas’s ass’s ears. According to OED, to “sough” is to “make a rushing, rustling, or murmuring sound.” 407.22: “listing sisterwands:” listening. Compare Hamlet’s father’s ghost: “List, list, O list!” Also, listing, in the sense of bending towards. In 1912, Joyce visited the Marconi wireless station, which, in order to minimize the distance to what was sometimes called its “sister station” (hence “sisterwands,” pointing sisterwards) in Glace Bay, Newfoundland was situated in Clifden, one of Ireland’s westernmost points. A photograph shows the radio aerials as thin rods (“-wands”) pointing straight up, but both here and at 528.28, where they are “Longhorns, Connacht,” FW has them bending, presumably towards the station on the other side of the Atlantic. (Clifden is in Connacht, and the horns of longhorn cattle extend sideways, not upwards) 407.22: “Tubetube!:” as elsewhere, mixes telegraph and (Marconi’s) radio: radios operated with vacuum tubes 407.23-5: “His handpalm lifted, his handshell cupped, his handsign pointed, his handheart mated, his handaxe risen, his handleaf fallen. Helpsome hand that holemost heals! What is het holy! It gested.” See McHugh. “Handpalm:” hand raised, palm open and forward, as gesture of peace. “Handshell:” “cupped,” it resembles a clamshell. “Handsign:” the index finger, pointing, as on a signpost. “Handheart:” hand to heart, as a gesture of love for his (“mated”) mate. “Handaxe:” hand raised, as if to strike. “Handleaf:” hand open and facing upward, drifting downward like a falling leaf. “Helpsome hand:” stretched out, as if to give help. In FW, “gest” in some form or other is usually a cue for Marcel Jousse, who, like Vico, taught that language originated in gesture. See, especially, 468.5, also Glasheen’s listings under “Jousse, Marcel.” Note that the hand here is speaking (“And it said” (.26)) – the gestural equivalent of Shaun’s singing. 407.25: “Helpsome hand that holemost heals:” laying on of hands: helps, restores health, heals, makes whole – or, more skeptically, (“holemost”) almost heals. Also, from Aristotle, De Anima: "It follows that the soul is analogous to the hand; for as the hand is a tool of tools, so the mind is the form of forms and sense of sensible things." This sentence is remembered by Stephen in "Nestor." 407.27-8: “ -Alo, alass, aladdin, amobus! Does she lag soft fall me and rest down?:” Two preliminaries: “amo, amas,” etc, is often the first Latin lesson, “do, si, la” etc. notes from the first stage of music training. Both are “address rehearsals” (.28) – as McHugh glosses, dress rehearsals. 407.28: “general address:” again, Shaun is a mailman. 407.29-31: “that was antepropreviousday’s pigeons-in-a-pie with rough dough for the carrier and hash-say-ugh of overgestern plus the ‘stuesday’s shampain in his head:” testing his voice calls up memories, some sensory, of recent food consumption. As hiccups (“hicnuncs,” (.32)), show, he has overindulged. Residues of recent meals – pigeon pie with “rough dough,” hash, champagne – all (“overgestern” (.30)) under/over/un/indigested, starting from (see McHugh) the day before yesterday, are, as the saying goes, repeating, with the yawns, hiccups, and belchings; see .32 and note. “Ugh” (.30) indeed. 407.29: “antepropreviousday’s:” an FW amalgam along the order of “antepenultimate:” day before day before day before today. Compare next line’s “overgestern,” which McHugh glosses as German vorgestern, the day before yesterday 407.29: “rough dough:” dough that is firm enough to be pulled out of its vessel in one compact mass. 407.31: “shampain:” either fake (“-pain”) bread or fake champagne 407.32: “hicnuncs of the present embelliching:” hiccups, belchings – both (speaking ironically) embellishing his singing performance 407.33: “Miccheruni’s band:” “Mickey Rooney’s” given Italian spin because of operatic context. Long before the MGM musical star of the same name, "Mickey Rooney" was the name of band in a comical song. 407.34: “so close:” so hot or stuffy 407.35: “the rag was up:” compare “Scylla and Charybdis:” “The flag is up on the playhouse” of the Globe Theatre, signalling that a play is about to start; at .35-6 we hear about “passes” and (see McHugh) “deadheads” in attendance. (Shaun is, after all, among other things, a performer.) 407.36: “to dye his paddycoats:” to be a turncoat, against the (“paddy-“) Irish, in this case by dyeing his coat a different color, probably either red, as sign of siding with the British, or Irish green, to be a British spy. For the postman Shaun, this which-side-are-you-on question will come up in the issue of whether pillarboxes should be red or green (411.22-4). At .11-2: “the green to the gred [red] was flown.” 408.1: “earning, his:” both McHugh and Oxford editors say that the comma should be removed. Makes more sense that way 408.1 “board:” both bread (McHugh) and board, in sense of bed and board 408.1-3: “having…fingers:” that is, cleaning his teeth with his fingers – here, a sign of provinciality, primitivism, or poverty: he can’t even afford, or hasn’t learned to use, a toothbrush. Compare 410.2-3 and note. 408.2: “moistened his manducators:” wet his whistle 408.8-9: “virgin bush…trim:” both are innuendos for pubic hair. 408.8-9: “for who e’er trod of Erin could ever sleep off turf!:” an exclamatory rhetorical question, with question mark implicit at the end. 1. How could anyone who has traveled in Ireland ever sleep anywhere else? 2. How could anyone who has trod the turf of Ireland ever get it out of his system? In the latter case, compare John Eglinton in “Scylla and Charybdis:” “The peatsmoke is going to his head.” 3. So, how could anyone who’s ever slept by a peat fire ever get over the effect of the smoke? 408.9: “liberally dished:” as McHugh notes, “liberally” is also literally: it’s literally dishes (of food) that have gotten him into this overweight shape. 408.10: “unwordy:” unlike his brother, the wordsmith 408.10: “mailman of peace:” male, man of peace 408.11: “hastehater:” that is, he prefers to move slowly. 408.11-2: “no legs and a title:” literally, the barrel is legless but titled with the Guinness brand. Colloquially, an athlete with “no legs” is bad at running. Being legless would obviously be a serious disadvantage for a mailman. Compare next entry. 408.12: “unpro promenade:” lacking legs, he can’t promenade. 408.13-4: “postoomany missive:” posthumous letter – presumably one delivered after the death of the writer, a miss or Mrs. Also, postmistress, a female postmaster: compare “poachmistress” (412.32), which Hart’s Concordance includes as an overtone of “postmistress;” according to the 1910 Thom's Directory Chapelizod had one. (ALP is the author, and the final edition of FW’s letter (616.12-628.16) is her swan song.) Shaun, as mailman, complains about having to carry too many missives because of the weight. 408.14: “on his majesty’s service:” British postmen wore uniforms bearing a royal insignia, e.g. “ER II.” As elsewhere, Shaun’s job as a government employee comes with political baggage. 408.16: “the mightif beam:” might-have-been – by analogy to “hasbeen,” a word in circulation well before Joyce’s time 408.16: “the mightif beam maircanny:” the mighty Marconi, with his mighty (radio) beam; compare 407.22. Marconi was pretty canny to get into the radio business when he did. 408.16-7: “which bit his mirth too early or met his birth too late!:” probably an allusion to the young Joyce’s meeting with Yeats: see 37.13 and note. Also, Stanislaus Joyce, one of Shaun’s models, was born after James, who received all the first-born’s privileges. (Although, as noted elsewhere, there was a son, named John, born before James, who died soon after birth.) 408.19: “I can seeze tomirror:” scrying: to see the future in a magic mirror. Shaun says he can see tomorrow by recalling the past, the “days of yer” (McHugh: days of yore). Also, see entry for “tosdays” (.19): perhaps today as well: yesterday, ending with the midnight bells heard on page 403, was a washing day (I.8), and washing days are traditionally Mondays. 408.19: “seeze…tosdays:” seize the day: Horace’s “Carpe Diem” 408.19: “tosdays:” again, if your annotator is right about FW’s default date, today has just become Tuesday. 408.20: “sembal:” Baudelaire: “Mon semblable, mon frère” 408.20: “sembal…twin:” Siamese twin(s). Listed as such in the “Overtones” of Hart’s Concordance. Compare “swimmyease bladdhers” (.27). 408.21-2: “We shared the twin chamber:” compare 562.17. 408.21-2: “what Sim sobs todie I’ll reeve tomorry:” what Shem/Jim says today I’ll read/dream (French “rêve”) tomorrow. Compare first note to .19. As a poet, Shem is a prophet (and martyr, “todie”), like one of Shelley’s unacknowledged legislators. Also (see McHugh) what Shem sows today I’ll reap tomorrow: as distributor of Shem’s writing, Shaun – like, in Joyce’s sometime view, editors, publishers, imitators – Shaun is the middleman taking his cut from Shem’s creative labor. 408.22: “’twill be:” Trilby. Svengali-Trilby stories go with allusions to extrasensory visions. 408.22-3: “Sam Dizzier’s feedst:” Saint Isidore (of Seville)’s Feast Day is May 15. She is the patroness of students – perhaps why Sem/Shem/Sham is amalgamated into “Saint.” 408.23: “Tune in:” what radio listeners do 408.23: “Tighe:” Gaelic for poet 408.24: “owelglass:” see McHugh: Tyl Eulenspiegel, mythical prankster and rogue, would be the opposite of Shaun – in one sense, his reverse or mirror (glass) image. (Spiegel is German for mirror. See first note to .19; compare 101.29.) 408.24: “Be old!:” part of Shaun’s passive-aggressive address to Shem, imagined as appearing before him: both (McHugh) Behold! and a literal Be old!, preparatory to dying! – as with the “Obsequies” of the next line. Irish expression, heard in “Cyclops:” “There’s many a true word spoke in jest.” 408.24: “He looks rather thin, imitating me:” compare Mulligan, in “Scylla and Charybdis,” on his pretended pseudonym: “The disguise, I fear, is thin.” 408.25: “Fish hands:” in fiction, fishy hands are always a bad sign. 408.27: “swimmyease bladdhers:” human swimming bladders – inflated bladders for beginning swimmers. Also, swimming bathers. Perhaps paired with (“swimmyease bladdhers”) Siamese brothers because identical, with one on each side. 408.29: “But he’ such a game loser!:” McHugh, but not Oxford editors, insert “s” after the apostrophe. “Good loser” can be a back-handed compliment in any case; here, the expression probably insinuates “one who loses games.” More passive-aggressiveness 408.29: “I lift my disk:” round top of a beer barrel, later to blow off (471.12-3). Also, of course, he’s lifting his hat: in “Hades,” Boylan’s hat is a “white disc.” 408.30: “Handy:” perhaps Handy Andy, fictional bumbler; occurs in “Circe.” See 409.29 and McHugh note. 408.31: “living to feel:” variant on, for instance, dying to hear 408.33: “toastingfourch:” Brewer: “toasting-fork:” slang for sword 408.33-4: “Shaunti and shaunti and shaunti again:” Eliot’s The Waste Land: “Shanti Shanti Shanti.” Joyce wrote a parody ending in “Shan’t we? Shan’t we? Shan’t we?” 408.36-409.1: “Futs dronk of Wouldndom!:” long shot: besides (McHugh) first duke of Wellington, perhaps an echo of “Turn again Whittington, thrice Lord Mayor of London.” (“Futs dronk:” first rank? “Wouldndom:” Whittington/London?) Maybe (“dronk”) drunk helps explain the garbledness (although Oxford editors have “drouk”); see note to 409.2. 409.1: “Gemini, he’s looking frightfully thin!:” standard starchart representations of constellations are stick figures, looking skeletally thin. Also, (“Gemini”) twins or not, there seems to be a zero-sum tradeoff in play: the fatter one of them gets, the thinner the other. See next entry: Shem has gotten so thin that he looks as if he’s at death’s door, a prospect Shaun views with equanimity. (Compare 408.24 and note, also next entry.) James Joyce was always skinny. 409.1-2: “I heard the man Shee shinging:” tradition that banshees keen before a death in the family. (He worries, or pretends to, that his brother is wasting away to nothing.) “Banshee” is an Englishing of Gaelic Bean sidh” – normally a female spirit. This one, being a “man,” may correspond to the manservant (or perhaps, as sometimes happens, the manservant combined with Kate, who in turn can certainly be mannish). Compare the next sentence, “Down among the dustbins let him lie” (.2-3) – more polite please-drop-dead sentiment. 409.2: “shinging:” drunk, he’s slurring his words – here, “singing” 409.3: “Ear! Ear! Not ay!:” Not I! Not eye! (In other words, he’s in the “Ear” camp – as before, hearing gets sharper as sight diminishes.) 409.4: “recitativer:” a singer of operatic recitative 409.4-7: “Yet I cannot on my solemn merits as a recitative recollect erver having done of anything of the kind to deserve of such. Not the phost of a nation! Nor by a long trollop! I just didn’t have the time to:” already he’s defensive, but about what? The first question addressed to him (.8-10) hasn’t happened yet. Note: I suggest that this and later questions in the chapter have to do with the once-famous exchange between Cornet George Joyce and King Charles I: when the latter asked by what “authority” he was being apprehended, Joyce brandished his pistol. See 516.19 and note. 409.8-10: “we remembered, who it was, good boy, to begin with, who out of symphony:” a long shot here. The sequence includes a preparation for Shaun’s performance of vocal music. “Every Good Boy Does Fine” is a (“remembered”) mnemonic for the notes of the treble clef. I suggest that “good boy” is a prompt for Shaun’s vocal range in the upcoming song – like John McCormack and James Joyce, Shaun is an Irish tenor, with a “voice pure” (.11) – and that this is why, in the next line, he will respond with “Goodbye:” he is taking the cue. Perhaps significant that, in the singing competition in which Shaun’s main avatar, McCormack, took first place, Joyce came second because of his inability to read music. (Compare: “with him on this stage. But he’s such a game loser!” (408.29-30)) Four lines later, “Comb his tar odd gee sing your mower O meeow?” (.14-5) sounds to my ears like a singer doing scales, each note higher than the one before, with the last note – “mower O meeow” – stretched out to a point beyond his range. McCormack’s voice was frequently on the radio during the FW years, broadcasting to and from Ireland. 409.9: “good boy:” the kind of thing one says to a dog. At 411.19-21 Shaun will imitate a dog, sticking out his tongue for dog-show inspection; at 411.23 he will be addressed as “dear dogmestic Shaun.” Given that dogs and postmen are perennial enemies, this supposedly friendly greeting probably carries an insult – in fact, the ultimate insult. 409.10: “symphony:” at times (e.g. 408.23, .29-30) he seems to be not only the soloist or lead vocalist but the conductor as well, or at least empowered to be telling the (symphony) orchestra what to do. Rightly or wrongly, he will take the question about the “permit” (.10) as referring to his musical bona fides, as well as to his position as postman. In the latter case, it’s pertinent that, in both Britain and the United States, nation-wide censorship was the business of the postal service: see 422.3, with McHugh note. 409.11-2: “pure as a churchmode…good catlick:” see previous entry. Pure as a good Catholic church mouse. Applies to his role as censor as well as singer 409.12: “a good catlick tug at his cocomoss candylock:” making him a forelock-tugger – a sign of obsequiousness. In the Ireland run by the Protestant Ascendancy, (“catlick”) Catholics were often required to make such gestures. “Catlick” is play on “cowlick” – a patch of ungovernable hair. 409.13: “cabbageous brain’s curly flower:” as if the forelock were an early blossom shoot of his brain, extruded through the skull. A human brain is about the size of a cabbage and resembles a cauliflower. Cauliflowers and cabbages are related: both belong to the Brassicaceae family. 409.14-5: “Comb his tar odd gee sing your mower O meeow?:” see note to .8-10. 409.15-6: “How are them columbuses! Lard have mustard on them!:” As McHugh says, “columbuses” are callouses, “mustard” a mustard bath. Mustard baths are frequently prescribed for the feet – here, for the callouses to which mailmen are presumably prone. Compare .16-7 and note. 409.15: “columbuses:” pigeons, as in a pigeon pie, which (407.29-31 and note) he has recently eaten, here with a sauce of lard and mustard. 409.16-7: “Hobos hornknees:” “hornies” – Irish slang for constables, and the kind of word one would expect from down-and-outs, for instance (American slang) “Hobos” (.16) hoboes, proverbially at odds with the police. Also, horny knees: arthritic knees, along with (“corveeture of my spine” (.17)) spinal stenosis – especially bad news for a mailman, on his feet all day. Shaun’s defensiveness in this first of his answers largely amounts to a plea for pity. Apparently he was in much better shape, with “stout legs” (411.2), when he first began making his rounds. 409.17: “Poumeerme!:” Poor me! Because of the afflictions (see previous entry) just mentioned – one reason (see next) his load is such a burden 409.17-8: “heaviest crux:” heaviest cross (to bear) – of all one’s afflictions, the worst. Also, of course, Shaun is comparing himself to Jesus. FW is the “hardest crux ever” (623.33-4), and as a mailman carrying the mailbag whose contents include the letter that is FW, he is carrying a very heavy crux. Also, see 403.1-4 and note: although no one has come up with a persuasive account of all the stations of the cross in this (or later) chapters, this may be the second one: “Jesus takes up his cross.” 409.18: “dairy lot:” mailman doubling with milkman – both make regular deliveries, and in Joyce’s day (as in “Calypso”) the first postal delivery was early in the morning. 409.18-9: “as hard as the thinkamuddles of the Greeks and a board as bare as a Roman altar:” sophistical Greeks, hard-headed Romans. “Thinkamuddles” may be paradoxes, like Zeno’s. Roman altars were made of marble. 409.19: “board as bare:” bare board: minimal meals 409.19-20: “I’m off…relief porridgers:” relief parishes (as in “on the parish,” “parish relief”), here ladling out porridge with porringers – an example (see previous entry) of a minimal meal. Porringers are small. Shaun, the gourmandizing omnivore, is definitely “off” – finished with – such fare. 409.23-4: “Headfire Clump:” the Hellfire Club was known for political radicalism, as well as debauchery and blasphemy. 409.24: “improving me:” in Victorian-Edwardian sense of educating someone into a higher, more moral way of thinking. Here, close to synonymous with socialist agit-prop 409.24: “making me beliek:” converting me to their “me beliek” (“MacBlacks…MacBlakes” (.23)) way of thinking; probably incorporates William Blake, as political radical. “Beliek” may also signal a factory where Belleek pottery is made – the “glasshouse” (.22). People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, and (see .28-30 and note) a maker of fine china would be especially vulnerable to sabotage by the workers. 409.25: “five hour factory life:” both McHugh and Oxford editors recommend inserting “week” after “five.” If so, Shaun is either mixing up two demands, a five-day working week and an eight-hour working day, or imagining a utopian five-day working week with a one-hour day. See next entry. 409.26: “day o’gratises:” day(s) of grace: essentially, an extension – here, for factory workers injured in industrial accidents 409.27: “anuncing:” as in a Papal Nuncio, presumably to Ireland. Compare 445.26. 409.28-30: “After suns and moons, dews and wettings, thunders and fires, comes sabotag:” A Viconian sequence, with each of the doublets being one stage, and “sabotag” the ricorso. (Also the Sabbath, either end or beginning of the week.) Would also chime with II Peter 3:6-7: first the creation, then the flood, then the “fire” of the “day of judgment,” then the end of time. “Sabotag”/sabotage also signifies, in the socialist scheme, the eventual uprising of the proletariat, sabotaging the machinery, both physical (the word comes from the French workers’ practicing of throwing “sabots” (wooden shoes) into industrial machinery) and structurally (the supposedly tottering capitalist system). This may be what (“Hagios Collenkiller’s prophecies” (.27-8)) St. Columcille/Columba (see McHugh) was prophesying. Also, a derivative of the U.S. Postal Service creed, from Herodotus: “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds” - “rounds” making for an especially nice fit with the Viconian “Ricorso.” Also, for “sabotag,” see 350.11-2 and note. 409.30: “Tilvido! Adie!:” first word is dog Latin/English/French: (un)til I see you (again) – a macaronic equivalent of “Au revoir.” Second word is equal-opposite passive-aggressive: to God! to die! 409.31: “ambly:” as a postman, he’s ambulatory. 409.32: “by order?:” that is, the kind of “postal order” that Bloom sends to Martha 409.33: “- Forgive me:” in the spirit of a sarcastic “Excuse me” 409.33: “liquid lipes:” compare “Aeolus,” on a drinker-to-excess who “bathe[s] his lips.” 409.34: “strike of work:” 1. stroke of work: a session of serious labor; 2. work strike, as urged by the fire-breathing socialist agitators. Equal-opposites 409.34: “condemned on me:” probably a distortion of “conferred on me” 409.34: “premitially:” primate-ly. Gist: at first 409.35: “Chiefoverseer Cooks:” since he’s about to go on a journey, probably a Cook’s Guide 409.36: “does be a power:” in Ireland, a bumpkinish turn of phrase 410.1-2: “book of breedings:” a stud book, either Debrett’s Peerage or some similar catalogue of aristocratic bloodlines, where one’s (“hairydittary” (.2)) hereditary status can be checked out. Or, of course, the Bible, with all its “begat”s 410.2-3: “scooping molars and grinders clean with his two fore fingers:” compare 408.1-3 and note. A traditional/primitive way of brushing one’s teeth. Here may suggest either sanctity – a monk, sworn to poverty, who can’t even afford a toothbrush – or crudity. In either case, may help account for the (“daggily broth”) doggy breath of 411.19. 410.3-4: “beating the blindquarters:” compare “Eumaeus:” “strong hint to a blind horse,” i.e. a beating 410.4: “oldfellow’s:” father’s 410.5: “maggot:” insanity 410.7: “fed up:” both figuratively and literally – all that food 410.7: “circulating:” what postmen do 410.8: “hikler’s:” hiker’s. Also, see .9 and note. 410.8-9: “them nameless souls, ercked and skorned, and grizzild all over, till it’s rusty October in this bleak forest:” the language in this passage recalls Dante’s uncommitted souls on the edge of hell. In some translations they are described as “nameless” and subject to “scorn;” they are “circulating” (.7), chasing after a flying flag forever circling; they are tormented by “maggot”s (.5); Dante and Virgil come to them by way of a (“selva oscura”) “bleak [or black] forest;” they are the ones who, while “keeping out of crime” (.6) have failed to do anything morally meaningful. Also, All Hallows’ Eve, at the end of October, when the souls of the dead wander the earth 410.9: “bleak forest:” The Black Forest was a main territory of the Wandervogel movement (see 419.14) – the “new hikler”s (hikers) some of whose customs were assimilated by ("hikler's") Hitler’s Nazis. 410.10-12: “thinking of the crater of some noted volcano or the Dublin river or the catchalot trouth subsidity as away out:” considering the first two, volcanic crater and river, as means of suicide, or the third, the Catholic Truth Society (McHugh) as means of salvation – each a kind of way out. He will go on to imagine other alternatives: exile to a (small) island, burial at sea (.13-4). The best-known volcano suicide was Empedocles. 410.10: “crater:” creator/Creator 410.11-2: “Dublin river or the catchalot trouth subsidity:” sounds like an Irish tourism promotion: in the Dublin river – that is, the Liffey – fishermen will catch a lot of trout; indeed, you might say we’re the Catch-A-Lot-Of-Trout Society! Some Irish Times promotions for the Mullingar House include notices of fishing gear for sale. 410.12: “away out:” both a way out and way-out – an escape from his predicament is far away. 410.12: “isolate i from my multiple Mes:” to expand on McHugh’s explanation: Ireland’s Eye is a small island; “isolate” contains isola, Italian for island; lower-case i is a small I; I is a singular (isolate) individual compared to a bunch of (“Mes”) Me’s. Since it has no inhabitants, someone choosing to live on Ireland’s Eye would be isolated, away from all the other “Mes” of the mainland. “Multiple Mes” may describe the rat-race tribe of the uncommitted souls, each wearing himself out in pursuit of self-interest: “Me.” (See .8-9 and note.) 410.12: “Mes:” close to being “Shem” spelled backwards - in fact at 419.24 we will get “play the sem backwards.” 410.13-4: “coolcellar…wineupon:” coal cellar, wine cellar. Wine cellars are kept at a cool temperature. Another item in Shaun’s catalogue of consumption 410.14: “wineupon:” wide-open 410.14: “ponteen:” poteen (Irish moonshine) – he’s also contemplating drowning himself in drink. 410.15: “pig’s stomach:” postman? A weak echo, but it fits the context 410.16-7: “the miraculous muddle of this expanding umniverse:” the creation as a miraculous muddle. 410.17-8: “since it came into my hands:” “it” is presumably the letter, which will be first singled out for attention in the next question (.22). At times, the question-and-answer seems to be working in reverse order. See note to 403.1-4, 409.4-7 and note. 410.18: “hopeless off course:” hopeless, of course; hopelessly off course 410.21: “franking:” Benjamin Franklin, first postmaster general of the U.S. 410.21: “franking machines:” apparatus for “franking” official mail, thus freeing it from postage fees 410.22: “open letter:” then as now, a published appeal presented as a “letter” to some public person, group, or institution 410.24: “tootlepick tact too:” tic tac toe 410.24-5: “with a down of the dampers:” dampers in pianos and other instruments soften the tone when pressed down on the strings. Compare third note to .21: this would go with “a whisper reaches us.” 410.25: “I have the gumpower:” in “By Jingo:” “We’ve got the ships, we’ve got the men, and we’ve got the money too.” 410.25: “gumpower:” power of speech, perhaps as shown by someone who (like the post-Ulysses Joyce) has had his teeth pulled, leaving his gums. Also – see McHugh – gunpowder/power, the right kind of power for someone swearing by St. Barbara 410.25-6: “by the benison of barbe:” to swear by one’s beard – a common expression of Muslim men in English stories 410.26-7: “my beloved:” response to “our belated” of .22 410.30: “Whimper and we shall:” from “whisper” to whimper. Shaun’s response (410.31-411.21) will be notably childish – e.g. “for mummy mit dummy” (411.17). 410.32: “There’s no sabbath for nomads:” There’s no rest for the nomadically weary, in this case for endlessly circulating postmen. Also, see 350.11-2 and note, 411.2-3 and McHugh note. 410.33: “being too soft for work proper:” in context, probably sarcastic. A “soft job” is a sinecure. 410.34: “three…two:” again: these two numbers, in either order, appear recurrently in the vicinity of Shaun and/or Shem. 410.34-5: “three masses a morn and two chaplets at eve:” a chaplet is a third of a rosary, numbering 55 beads, so Shaun claims to say 110 prayers every evening. (Compare 411.16-7, with McHugh’s note.) On the other hand, (“chaplets”) chapel-going is/was practiced by low-church Protestants, some of whom made a point of attending ("twice on sundises” (289.8)) twice on Sunday. So: contraries, coinciding or not, and perhaps as a state worker, a Catholic employed by the Protestant establishment, Shaun is covering both bases. Long shot: 110, three and two: subtract the 0 (and how do you subtract a 0?): the components of 1132. As usual, three and two together are a signature of the brothers. 411.1: “forstold:” foretold, first told, forestalled – a complicated coincidence of contraries 411.2: “possessing stout legs:” compare 409.16-7 and note. 411.2: “disbarred:” dispensed, as in a papal dispensation. Also, to disbar is to forbid a licensed lawyer from practicing law. Again, a coincidence of contraries – one a special favor, the other the reverse 411.4: “relics of my time:” remainder of my life 411.6: “Weak stop work stop walk stop whoak:” a postman’s itinerary, from house to house: walk, stop, walk, stop, walk, stop, walk. Possible overtone (as in “Scylla and Charybdis”) of a “whoa!” at end 411.6-8: “Go thou this island, one housesleep there, then go thou other island, two housesleep there, then catch one nightmaze, then come home to dearies:” continues theme of previous sentence (.6), that a postman’s job takes him from one stop to another. Also, see 409.18 and note. 411.8: “home to dearies:” home to Derry; return to dearies - loved ones 411.10: “rife:” ripe 411.10-11: “never make face to a foe till he’s rife and never get stuck to another man’s pfife:” “tailler une pipe á quelqun:” to give someone a blow job. “Pipe” sometimes figures in similar expressions in English. 411.11: “pfife:” wife 411.11-2: “On the continent of Eironesia:” as “the continent,” Europe is smaller than the megacontinent, Eurasia, larger than the island Eire, Ireland. 411.13-4: “praised be right cheek Discipline!:” Matthew 5:39: “whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.” Given context – he’s bragging about what a goody-goody he is – also his gratitude for having had the naughtiness whipped out of him as a child. As one would expect (compare “Counterparts”) he will be all too eager to pass the benefit on to others, for instance at 444.23-4. 411.13-4: “right cheek:” righteous 411.15: “fleshfettered:” encumbered by one’s bodily self 411.15-6: “palms on the epizzles of the apossels:” hands on the (“epizzles”) pizzles/penises of the (“apossels”) apostles. Probably a near-miss attempt at testifying – literally, reaching down to grab one’s testicles to swear an oath, but latching on to the penis instead. Compare 413.17: “This, my tears, is my last will intesticle.” Although actually, if the hands wound up not on his own but on someone else’s equipment, for instance that of the “apossels,” this would be pretty far afield. 411.18: “beest:” beast – the dog. (See note to .19.) 411.19: “ghee up, ye dog, for your daggily broth, etc.:” Again (see 409.9 and note), household dogs are the proverbial bane of mailmen. Here, he is prepared with a daily treat to placate his nemesis, although the overtone of “doggy breath” suggests there’s still some unpleasantness involved. (It would not go unnoticed in a communicant sticking out his tongue to receive the host – see .20 and note.) 411.19-20: “Happy Maria and Glorious Patrick:” “Ave Maria, grátia pléna…” 411.20: “Greedo! Her’s me hongue!:” After reciting the (“Creedo”) Credo, Here’s my tongue: words of communicant sticking out his tongue to receive the host. McHugh (but not Oxford editors) relocates “Amen, ptah!” from .11 to just after “hongue!” This would suggest that the taste of the wafer is not to his liking, even that he spat it out, which in turn could mean that he was in a state of mortal sin, quite possibly bound for hell. (An urban legend of the time was that Hitler, raised Catholic, had spat out the host at his last communion.) Further theological permutation: dogs prefer meat. A dog would probably not like a communion wafer, unless, that is, it had been transubstantiated into the flesh of Jesus, which has apparently not happened. (By this perverse logic, it is the priest who has something to answer for.) Also, echo of “She’s my honey!” – the “She,” the “Her-“, probably being “Happy Maria” (.19-20). Also: a “tongue of honey” – a familiar literary phrase, signifying smooth-talking dishonesty. At some point mailman and dog have temporarily fused or switched roles – a process certified with the words “dogmestic Shaun” (.23) and perhaps also “diogneses” (.29), since Diogenes was a (dog-like) cynic who, like the mailman Shaun, walked around with a lantern. 411.22: "fullsoot:" "faolchu:" Gaelic for wolf. In heraldry, an extended tongue distinguishes a wolf from a dog. 411.22: “fullsoot of a tarabred:” in best-of-breed shows, dog’s tongues are routinely examined. The inference is that the tongue shows that this is a (“tarabred”) thoroughbred Irish breed – probably, as in “Cyclops,” an “Irish red setter wolfdog.” Also, a falsehood worthy of a thoroughbred Irish blarneyer: Shaun has just been laying claim to exceptional piety, but his interlocutors know that, contrary to his pretenses, he raised hell – painted the town red – in his time. See .23-4 and note. 411.23: “dogmestic:” dogs are domesticated wolves. 411.23-4: “how you have while away painted our town a wearing greenridinghood:” for all Shaun’s pretensions to child-like innocence, the questioner has heard of a time when he was painting the town red. Shaun, surprised to learn that he was found out (“how did you hear?” (.25)), will reply with a sheepish confession of guilt. 411.24: “wearing greenridinghued:” Little Red Ridinghood story (“What a big tongue you have!” “The better to taste you with!”) is cued by display of (wolf)dog’s tongue – see first note to .22. Also, red-green opposition is FW’s perennial example of color-wheel after-image, as presented in contemporary studies of perceptual psychology: stare at a red dot, then at a blank space, and a green dot will appear. Also, compare .30 and note. 411.25: “O murder mere!” see previous entry. As in “O grandmother, what big teeth you have!” Or, here, since “hear”ing is singled out, What big ears! Also, very tentatively, another station of the cross, this one the fourth: Jesus meets his mother. 411.26: “ily way up his lampsleeve:” oil for the lamp 411.26: “lampsleeve:” an insulating cover for lamps. The term was in use from the late 19th century on. 411.27-8: “rays, her lump:” Diogenes (.29), raising his lamp 411.28: “her lump is love:” idea here seems to be that a lump of coal is the source of “rays” of light. Lamps of the time were lighted with coal oil. Compare Shaun’s previous adjusting of his lamp, ”smoiling the ily way” (.25-6). Also, in “Scylla and Charybdis,” a “light of love” is a prostitute. Compare .30-1 and note. 411.29: “diogneses:” “dog” is intercalated in “diog.” Also, Diogenes was a Cynic – meaning “dog-like” - who was accused of hounding the school’s founder, Antisthenes, like a dog. 411.29: “Thrubedore I did! Inditty!:” Troubadours sang ditties. 411.29: “All lay:” I’ll lay: I’ll bet, I’ll say. Equivalent of “You bet.” Compare “Circe:” “I’ll lay you what you like she did it on purpose.” 411.28-9: “Your diogneses is anonest man’s:” as McHugh notes, an honest, Diogenes-like diagnosis – the report is true - but its (“anonest”) anonymous source is less than reputable: compare 34.2, 374.7-8. 411.30-1: “And I’m afraid it wouldn’t be my first coat’s wasting:” in Portrait, chapter five, “waistcoateers” are prostitutes. The wild ways of his youth having been found out, Shaun will try to present himself as guilty only of excusable patriotic radicalism. This suggests another story. 411.30: “Down with Saozon ruze:” confirms .24: that painting the town green, instead of English (“ruze”) red, was an act of rebellion against the English Saxons. (“Ruze” may also be “ruse” – no more play-acting.) As usual if not always, such gestures are problematic: he may now be a “regular redshank” (.33), that is (see McHugh), one of the original (the word itself is always problematic) Celts who repelled the Anglo-Saxons, but then there’s that “red-“ in “redshank,” and besides, the redshanks themselves (500.10) could be pretty bloody. As elsewhere, red and green, at diametrical ends of the color wheel and therefore productive of each other’s afterimage, are opposites, therefore equals. 411.31: “striding on the vampire:” “Stride la vampa” is a song of revenge against abuse of aristocratic privilege. Not coincidental that this aria comes from Verdi’s Il Trovatora, two lines after Shaun has declared himself a troubadour. 411.31: “vampire:” Empire Music Hall, Belfast. Troubadour Shaun remembers making a hit on the stage. Also, “-pire” as pyre: see .32 and note. 411.31-2: “blazing on the focoal:” “Stride la vampa:” (.31: see McHugh) describes a woman being burned at the stake. 411.32: “focoal:” coal fire, in the focus, Latin for hearth. “Blazing” it up into flame, normally the work of bellows, is here being done by the breath of his singing. 411.34: “an aughter:” see .31-2 and note. “Stride la vampa” is sung by the daughter of the woman who was burned at the stake. 411.35-6: “No such thing! You never made a more freudful mistake, excuse you!:” your annotator is stumped. Shaun pivots at this point from accommodation to hostility, and the reason eludes me. In fact, the rest of his response, up to 412.6, strikes me as exceptionally incoherent. He seems to think that the generally polite questions coming from his questioner are insinuating something, but what? Perhaps the performance should recall the HCE of Book I, wildly making all kinds of self-incriminating denials in response to an innocent request for the time. 411.36-412.1: “What pork to you means meat to me:” Anglo-Norman “pork;” Anglo-Saxon “meat:” Shaun, in this rebel vein, is identifying himself as a nativist, committed to the language of the aborigine over the colonist, but, inevitably and ironically, thus allies himself with the (English) Anglo-Saxon invaders of Ireland. (Comparisons between Old English and Norman terms for food are common in histories of the language and often come freighted with class distinctions.) 412.1: “you behold how I be eld:” you be “old;” I be “eld:” again, Shaun identifies with the older race: “eld” is archaic, “old” contemporary. Compare previous entry. 412.2: “from the prophecies. New worlds for all!” Revelations (“scripchewer” (.4)) scripture prophesies “new heaven, new earth.” 412.2: “New worlds for all!:” New words for old! “Pork” replacing “meat” and “old” replacing “eld” (see 411.36-412.1 and note) are two pertinent examples. On the other hand, “New worlds for old” would be a evolutionary slogan. As so often, Shaun’s position of the moment represents a coincidence, or clash, of contraries: he wants a 1. new regime which will 2. return to the old ways. After all, most major shifts in history begin with a "re." 412.3: “scotographically arranged for gentlemen only:” scatography: obscene writings, written for men only 412.5: “extravert davy:” extrovert. “Davy” will later become a version of Shem – an extrovert (“Dave” the Dancekirl” (462.20), a version of Israel’s King David, himself no shrinking violet), but “extravert” may also be an extreme version of “pervert.” At 8.13, “davy” was Welsh (see next entry), along with a Scot and an Englishman one of three soldiers and clearly part of FW’s two-three twins motif – Shem, Shaun, and their (“tertium quid” (526.12)) – here, the “extravert” one. 412.5: “davy:” as miners’ lamp, yet another conjunction of coal and lamplight – appropriate gear for a Welshman. St. David is the patron saint of Wales, “Davy” or “Davey” a common Welsh name. Also: as dancer/drunkard/ debauchee/musician/poet, the King David of “scripchewer,” scripture (.4). Vulgate version of David’s Psalm 81 will follow at .8-9. 412.5: “like glue:” contraction of “stuck together like glue” – expression used for very close friends or, in this case, brothers, Siamese or otherwise. 412.6: “thine after draught:” an “afterdraught” can be 1. the wake of a ship; 2. the scent, pleasant or otherwise, left behind in someone’s wake. For the latter, see next item. Also, the “draught” of a fireplace 412.7: “mielodorous:” includes miel, French for honey. Compare Shaun’s (“hongue”) honey tongue of 411.21. Combined with "malodorous," an equal-opposite 412.8-9: “Buccinate in Emenia tuba insigni volumnitatis tuae:” given musical setting, it’s probably pertinent that Henry Purcell (who appears at .22) set this to music. Also, trumpet (see McHugh) and tuba are both wind instruments. 412.11: “whether furniture would or verdure varnish:” gist: Shaun has just waxed apocalyptic (literally: quoting Saint John of the Apocalypse), promising a new world to replace the old. His questioners, mindful of Irish history, ask whether that would mean stripping Ireland of its furniture wood (trees, like maple, mahogany, etc. used for making furniture: the term, sometimes capitalized, was current at the time), whether its native verdure would (“varnish”) vanish. (There is a bit of subsidiary wordplay with “varnish” being applied to the furniture made out of furniture ("would") wood.) They are apprehensive that Shaun’s new regime will complete and expand on the (British) deforestation of Ireland. (Compare Ulysses 12.1258-64.) The “fiery” (.13) quality of Shaun’s talk is the reason: is he going to burn everything down, including the countryside? His similarly apocalyptic disdain for “this furnaced [blazing, with furniture wood] planet” (.17) – perhaps a reminder of Swift’s “Burn everything English, except for their coals,” cited elsewhere in FW - is the opposite of reassuring. The British stripped Ireland of many of its trees for shipbuilding; this second, fiery devastation, could complete the job. 412.14: “naturally incensed:” as in incense, for an altar boy or priest. Also, again: what is Shaun incensed by, exactly? The question put to him seems to have been friendly enough. 412.16-7: “physiog of this furnaced planet:” fancified “face of the earth;” note “f,” then "ace,” in “furnaced.” Variations on "physiognomy" were popular terms for "face" - in "Aeolus" the word is "phiz." 412.18: “furnace…verjuice:” again, Shaun’s misprision of line .11’s “furniture” and “verdure.” “Furnace” also accommodates “infernal,” “verjuice” perhaps “virtues.” 412.19-20: “kindly drop that, angryman! That’s not French pastry:” “Lestrygonians:” “A hungry man is an angry man.” Whatever the person addressed may be holding, it’s not edible. 412.19: “angryman:” projection. Shaun is the angry man here. 412.21: “quoth mecback:” backtalk 412.22: “past purcell’s office:” Lost Parcels Office. Also, overdue deliveries, for return-receipt items which have not been received and signed for. (FW’s letter may, problematically, qualify on both counts.) Also, again (.8-9) , Henry Purcell 412.22: “deplored:” in sense of “whose loss I deplore:” mourned, regretted 412.23: “elder:” reasserting (.1) “eld” 412.23-4: “Miss Enders, poachmistress and gay receiver:” as noted for 7.28-9, Thom’s Directory for Chapelizod, 1910 lists a “Miss Magt. Fitzpatrick” as “subpostmistress,” a receiver of letters. As Glasheen notes, FW’s letter’s sender is sometimes a Miss Enders. (Compare “Mrs Sanders,” “Mrs Shunders,” and “Mevrouw von Andersen” at 413.5, 413.6, and 413.15.) Also, past mistress (by analogy to “past master”) and “gay deceiver,” as in Ulysses, a lothario – here, both terms for men being applied to a woman 412.24-5: “the Scotic Poor Men’s Thousand Gallon Cow Society:” compare “The Scottish Widow’s Fund (Mutual) Life Assurance Society,” thrice mentioned in Ulysses. “Scotia” can be a name for Ireland. 412.27: “one, two much:” one, two; one too much 412.27-8: “privet stationery and safty quipu was ate up larchly:” more about the trees and the “verdure” as raw materials for books or (“stationery”) letters; see next entry. 412.28: “larchly:” larches are softwood trees commonly used as sources of paper. If all the hardware trees were taken for furniture and all the softwood for paper, Ireland would indeed be treeless. See .12 and note. 412.28: “nettlesome goats:” goats, famously omnivorous, sometimes eat nettles. Here, in spite of the best offices of the post service’s many thousands of employees (.26-7), some goats have gotten in and eaten the letter in question; the reference to “Miss Enders” (.23) identifies it as the letter. Sound suspiciously like an alibi (compare “The dog ate my homework”), and the exceptionally garbled testimony may be intended to disguise the true story. 412.29: “pension greed:” sounds like an address, as in French pension, but also has to do with money matters under discussion: insurance (.24-5), “compound…makings” in the (“savingsbook” (.33)), savings bank, his “selary as a paykelt” (.413.1). As a postman, Shaun would naturally be concerned, during turbulent times (red postboxes being painted green, for instance), with the status of his civil servant’s pension. 412.31: “murthers of gout:” murder(s) of goat, as inflicted on “sindybuck” (Sündenbock (.35)), a scapegoat 412.32: “upt to scratch:” up to scratch; apt to scratch out a message (on paper) 412.33: “verdigrease savingsbook:” again, continuation of “verdure” and “verjuice.” Savingsbooks, often made of leather, can be greasy. 412.33-4: “capri sheep:” both Capri sheep (sheep raised on Capri) and goat-sheep/sheep-goats (hybrids of the two species) were around at the time. 412.34: “boxing gloves:” can be made out of either leather or goatskin 412.36: “Christcross:” signature of prelate awarding Nihil Obstat (see McHugh) to publication. Also, crisscross: perhaps one of the letter’s x’s, which (see note to 111.10-20), FW seems curiously hesitant to spell out as such. 413.1: “my selary as a paykelt is propaired:” his salary is pre-paid. 413.2: “there is a peg under me and there is a tum till me:” stored barrels, being round, are kept in position with pegs. See 362.20 and note, and next entry. 413.2-26: "To...Writing:" another version of ALP's letter, as carried by Shaun. This time, like 615.12-628.16, it is a ("last will intesticle" (.17)) last will and testament, as written or dictated by an old and dying (but still, "well under ninety" (.12)) mother, with final thoughts for ("two little ptpt coolies" (.22)) the twins and ("Pepette" (.24)) the daughter. She was overweight (.9) and prone to rheumatism (.12), for which she regularly took medicine (.11). It is accompanied by her "tears" (.16), perhaps a or the source of the watermark and/or tea (embedded in "tears") stain which is one of the letter's invariable features. 413.2: “tum:” tummy, tun. A tun is a large barrel. 413.3: “Disgrace:” His grace 413.4: “Sweepyard:” to “sweep the yard” is to clear it of brush, leaves, trash, etc. One of the duties of a domestic servant – here, probably the manservant. (Incongruously – and there is an overload of incongruity to this paragraph – an overtone of “sweetheart”) 413.7: “dauctors:” daughters 413.8-9: “the niceliest person of a wellteached nonparty woman:” nicest part of a woman: compare 326.33, 327.4. 413.9: “acquired her letters:” learned to read 413.11: “she shuk the bottle and tuk the medascene:” is this a thing of the past? Medicine bottles (this one prescribed by the (“mudical dauctors” (.7)) medical doctors, were routinely shaken before being administered, in order to evenly distribute their ingredients. Also, milk bottles for babies – shaken to even out the temperature. 413.12: “well under ninety:” not saying a lot: all three of FW’s main female figures are under 90 years old. Perhaps pounds as well: ALP and Issy at least are usually described as diminutive. 413.12: “tastes of the poetics:” echoes “a touch of the rheumatics” 413.17: “last will intesticle:” again, legal oaths, solemnized by hand on testicles. Difficult for a woman, of course, which is perhaps why, in spite of the will, she will die (“intesticle”) intestate. 413.17: “wrote off in the strutforit:” written off straightforwardly – without hesitation or second thoughts 413.21: “air:” heir 413.22: “coolies:” children of Finn McCool? At .16-7 we were enjoined to honor “thy farmer and my litters,” father and litter. 413.23: “herewitdnessed:” Oxford editors have “here witnessed” - signaling legal witnesses of the will. “M.D.D.O.D.” (.25), following, may be a legal stamp. 413.24: “maddlemass:” Christmas as well as Michaelmas: here as elsewhere this document recalls the FW letter. 413.25: “May doubling:” my darling 413.25: “May doubling droop of drought!:” May Dublin drop (dead) of draught! (Compare Stephen in “Proteus:” “Island of dreadful thirst,” the thirst being for alcohol.) 413.27-31: “Hopsoloosely…fumiform:” as best he can, the questioner has picked up on some random points from Shaun’s last response. “Hopsoloosely” echoes “Hopstout” (412.36), “kidding” comes from the talk about “goats” (412.28), “white paper” from the testimony about the letter, the Swift material (“Cadenus,” “Two venusstas,” “Biggerstiff”) from “Easthers” (414.8), the two Esthers. “Be trouz and wholetrouz” (.29-30) pivots to demanding the truth about the two women in his life, in Joyce’s version equally mistreated by Swift: he was true to neither of them. For “gaon” (.29), Oxford editors have “gaou.” 413.27: “- Hopsoloosely kidding:” Hopalong Cassidy. (Compare 386.35 and second note.) Also: absolutely kidding (joking). Again: “kidding” is prompted by Shaun’s recent preoccupation with goats: a kid is a baby goat. 413.27: “you are:” I suggest a pause after these words. 413.28: “white paper:” the first instance of “white paper” in sense of government document was in 1922. 413.29: “Two venusstas! Biggerstiff!:” You have not one but two Venuses!? That must require a bigger, stiffer (penile) staff! See next entry. 413.29: “Biggerstiff!:” Bigamist! 413.30: “frank:” as in franking postage, perhaps also with allusion to Benjamin Franklin. Compare 410.21. 413.31: “softbodied fumiform:” see 404.25 and two notes – the barrel’s burlap wrapping 413.32-3: “Heavenly blank!:” “blank,” as in the second chapter of Portrait (“Damn this blankety-blank holder”), dodging the curse, here probably “God.” Inadvertently, Shaun is also saying either/both that his life is an open book without anything in it to be ashamed of, or that the record of his life would be a divine nothing, what Joyce in one of his letters called a “bellissima niente.” 413.34: “paste of his rubiny winklering:” fake jewels, for instance rubies, are “paste.” Shaun apparently has a fake ruby ring, recalling the Ruby, Pride of the Ring of Ulysses. 413.34-5: “though it ought to be more or less rawcawcaw romantical:” though his autobiography may come across as divinely empty (compare .32-3 and note), it ought to really be rawly romantic. “Rawcawcaw” recalls the cry of Shem’s raven, usually opposed to the coo-coo of Shaun’s dove – perhaps, as elsewhere, the one voice breaking through the other. Shaun’s repressed memories of painting the town red (411.22-4) are attributed to the scapegrace Shem, the beer in his barrel, always threatening to seep out. (In the next chapter, it will.) 413.35: “By the wag, how is Mr Fry?:” a wag is a witty, often irreverent male – a Shem type. Shaun’s question follows from the evocation of Shem in ”rawcawcaw romantical.” Mr Fry, whoever he is, has appeared twice before (43.9, 342.10), the first time as Paul Fry. 413.36: “ex-voto:” a religious offering given to fulfill a vow. Shaun will go on about the money etc he handed over, spontaneously, “among” various recipients (414.1-6). 413.36-414.1: “wooden halfpence:” as in “Don’t take any wooden nickles.” A wooden half-pence would be even more worthless. 414.1: “joyoust rhine:” Rhine wine, bringing joy 414.1-2: “spondaneously by me:” given the point Shaun is making here, “by me” (by me!) would probably be a spondee. As noted elsewhere, FW’s archetypal male lover often signals the female recipient (here, “Miss Anders” (.2)) with a dash-dash of some kind; the reply is usually a dot-dot – here probably the two dotted i’s of “illwishers’” (.2). Note follow-up “I never spont it” (.8). 414.2: “Miss Anders!:” Swift was/is often charged with misanthropy – or, applied to males, misandry. Also, someone whose name approximates this one is repeatedly associated with FW’s letter. Probable overtone of senders, mis-senders 414.3-4: “in the ligname of:” in the name of. Also, “lingam” means “penis” in the Richard Burton translation of the Kama Sutra and occurs in this sense in “Circe.” Latin lignum, wood, probably goes with, for instance, (“timbreman” (.4)) timber-man, (“Bois” (.6)) French bois, forest. 414.4: “Howten of Tredcastles:” compare “Howth Castle and Environs” (3.3). 414.5: “prodigits:” prodigious 414.5: “nabobs and navious of every subscription:” the far-reaching range of the British Empire’s postal service: nabobs were British citizens who had made their fortunes in India; the word originally meant an Indian official. The Royal Navy saw to it that (subscribed: undersigned) letters and (subscribed) publications sent between, for instance, London and Bombay would be delivered with dispatch. As postman, Shaun is an agent of empire. 414.6: “our evicted tenemants:” 1. evicted tenants; 2. tenements: in both cases, loaded words in the ongoing Irish controversies between Ascendancy landlords and native tenants/tenement-dwellers. “Evicted tenants” shows up several times in Ulysses, in all cases as fighting words. 414.9: “It went anyway like hot pottagebake:” cottage cake. (Compare 620.36.) Also: to go like hot-cakes: an American expression for a product that sells out in a hurry 414.10: “fresh point:” probably a (delayed) response to 411.23-4: “you have while away painted our town a wearing greenriderhood.” Fresh paint is a good way of starting a “plain” (.11) new beginning, as on an envelope not yet addressed. 414.11-3: “I am as plain as portable enveloped, you will now parably receive, care of one of Mooseyeare Goonness’s registered andouterthus barrels:” Oxford editors replace “Mooseyeare” with “Mooseyear’s.” To oversimplify a bit: “plain,” porter (“portable”) and stout are close to indistinguishable and, under different names, have all been produced by Guinness. As barrel, Shaun (“enveloped”) envelopes (contains) the brew which – in language similar to the saying-grace “For what we are about to receive” – they are now to receive. (Such barrels, like some letters, are “registered” – each stamped with a recorded number.) Jesus spoke in parables, and Shaun, who according to Joyce’s account is re-living Jesus’ stations of the cross, is about to (“parably”) do the same with “the Ondt and the Gracehoper.” (It will also resemble one of the marchen fairy tales to be found in (“Mooseyeare Goonness’s”) Mother Goose.) For “andouterthus,” compare “Empire, your outermost” (278.23), in what is clearly a reference to the postal service: again, Shaun the mailman as agent of empire. Compare .5 and note. Also, Guinness is exported. 414.13: “Quick take um whiffat and andrainit:” Quick, take a whiff of that and drain (drink) it. 414.14: “So vi et:” perhaps reflects the Russian (Soviet) custom of celebrating agreements with large quantities of alcohol, rapidly consumed. Compare next entry. 414.14: “mood:” from moed, Dutch for courage. “Dutch courage” is liquor. 414.16: “I apologuise:” what would today be called humblebragging. Shaun has been asked to sing, and politely apologizes for refusing the request. Also: Apollo in disguise; Apollo, the god of music (song), often shows up in disguise. 414.16: “spinooze:” as Spinoza, the first of many philosophers whose names will be showing up during the recitation. Also, to spin a yarn 414.17: “grimm gests:” grim jests: coinciding contraries. As many have remarked, some of the Grimm Brother’s tales are also pretty grim. 414.17: “Jacko:” popular name for a monkey; occurs in “Wandering Rocks” 414.17: “Esaup:” as elsewhere in FW (e.g. 246.31), includes the soup (pottage) for which Esau relinquished his inheritance. 414.18: “my dear little cousis:” compare the sermon of Portrait, chapter three: “my dear little brothers in Christ.” 414.18: “casus:” as in casus belli. The ensuing fable will give one version of how the brothers fell out. 414.19-20: “(husstenhasstencaffincoffintussemtossemdamandamnacosaghcusaghhobixhatouxpeswchbechoscashlcarcarcaract):” Eugene Jolas, evidently with Joyce as a source, described this as “an onomatopoeia of over fifty letters coughing in a church during a sermon.” Also, see note to 425.9-10. 414.23-4: “findlestilts to supplant him:” stilts to supplement him, heightwise or lengthwise 414.26: “langtennas:” lawn tennis (McHugh): as in “Cyclops,” a signifier of the idle rich 414.26: “pushpygyddyum:” sounds of “push-pin” (child’s game), “piggy,” “perineum,” “giddy,” “yum,” and perhaps “giddy-up.” 414.27: “mouthparts to his orefice:” kissing, rimming. Love has pitched his mansion in the place of excrement – a major FW premise. See next, where “airy processes” are farts. 414.28: “gambills to their airy processes:” given context, perhaps mandibles: insect mouth parts – here, speaking into their ears. (In any case, seems to fit the sense better than legs.) See next entry. 414.29: “everlistings…waspering pot:” 1. Besides (McHugh) a wasp pot, a potter wasp – a solitary wasp that gets its name from the shape of its nest. 2. Whispering spot - a point in the statue gallery of the U.S. Capitol Building from which a listener can hear with great clarity the voice of someone whispering from a distance. (Given Joyce’s spotty familiarity with America, Saint Paul’s whispering gallery seems more probable.) Here, both an ideal spot for sotto voce flirtation and the exact opposite 414.29-32: “He would of curse melissciously, by his fore feelhers and extensors, lamely, harry me, marry me, bury me, bind me, till she was puce for shame:” He would curse, by his forefathers, until she blushed for shame. (Not, it would seem, recommended as a seduction stratagem, but then Joyce, like Bloom, did something similar in his courtship of Nora.) Also, as McHugh notes, a Viconian cycle: thunder harries humanity into caves; close quarters induce marriages; burial; Ricorso doubling-back 414.30: “fore feelhers:” four feelers for feeling her – the four forelegs (with hands) 414.32-3: “Spinner’s housery:” Spanish hosiery, as luxury item 414.33: “earthsbest schoppinhour so summery:” world’s best shopping-house – i.e. department store. In Dublin this would be Clery’s, with its popular Summer Sale. 414.33-4: “summery…cottage:” summer cottage – like other items in the list a sign of (temporary) wealth 414.34: “fourmillierly:” formally 414.35: “Or, if he was:” Oxford editors insert “not done doing that, improbably he” after “was.” Would then read: “Or, if he was not done doing that, improbably he was always striking up…” 414.35: “striking up funny funereels:” a fiddler “strikes up a reel” – beginning the dance with his fiddle 414.35-6: “Besterfarther Zeuts:” see McHugh: as the next twenty-four lines will illustrate, trying to keep count of Zeus’s grandchildren would be next to impossible. 414.36: “the Aged One, with his wigeared corollas:” a winged collar is for formal wear. Here, it may also indicate that the wearer is venerable or old-fashioned. 414.36: “Aged One:” Alpha Omega 415.1: “oldbuoyant:” buoyant – Shaun is a barrel floating down the river. Also, a school or establishment’s “old boy” – again (compare first note to .36), aged, venerable 415.1: “his elytrical wormcasket:” a cicada’s shell: again, insects are exoskeletal. Every seventeen years (numbers vary in some places), cicadas break out of their underground shells and emerge with their (noisy) mating songs – here, addressed to “Dehlia and Peonia, his druping nymphs” (.2). “Elytrical:” presumably a comparison between cicada’s hardened shell and (see McHugh) elytra, the “hardened wing cases of beetles:” both are made of chitin. (See 416.25: “cicada…chittinous.”) At .4 the shell is a (“cacumen”) cocoon: the “wormcasket” is also a caterpillar’s, before a similar metamorphosis to butterfly. (Another pertinent case of periodic insect resurrection: locusts. On the next page he will have “vorasioused most glutinously” (.24) - voraciously, like a glutton, eaten everything edible.) 415.1: “elytrical wormcasket:” an electrical coffin? Buried bodies are “food for worms.” Perhaps recalls Bloom’s “Hades” thoughts about coffins with telephones, gramophone recordings of the recent dead 415.2: “bewheedling:” wheedling, bewildering 415.3: “hornitosehead:” insects, being exoskeletal, have horny heads. 415.4: “cackle:” tickle 415.4: “diva deborah:” see McHugh: a queen bee 415.4-7: “seven bolls of sapo, a lick of lime, two spurts of fussfor, threefurts of sulph, a shake o’shouker, doze grains of migniss and a messful of midcap pitchies:” evidently, as part of his mating routine, he’s learned how to mix and shake up (“shake o’shouker”) a pretty sophisticated, and awful, (“pitchies”) pitcher of cocktails. (Most if not all the ingredients are soil-based, natural enough for someone who has been underground for years: see note to .1.) For good measure – see second note to .9 – he’s not above adding some Spanish fly to the mix. 415.7-15: “The whool…Wake!:” gist, on arrival, he’s a big shot: singers sing his glory; dancing girls dance around his coach. 415.8: “Bourneum:” (P.T.) Barnum. The (“Boubou from Bourneum” (.18)), “wild men of Borneo” were features of his freak show. 415.9: “soturning:” as McHugh notes, Saturn, with its moon Phoebe circling around it. As in “Oxen of the Sun,” simultaneously the planet (with its moons and rings (“the little Newbuddies that ring his panch” (.18-9)) and the Roman god: at .21 he is given his (Irished) Greek name of (“O’Cronione”) Cronos. (For another example of mythical combined with astronomical, see 582.31.) Also, sojourning 415.9: “cantoridettes:” as Cantharides, Spanish fly – legendarily employed by seducers as aphrodisiac. Appears in a similar sense in “Circe.” Also, as with “Catheringnettes” of 538.22, a woman unmarried at age 25. “Cantor”s, singers, here of the young female variety, accompany (“tambarins”) dancing tambourine-players. 415.9-10: “eggshill:” exile – which he no longer is. Also, eggshell: one of several versions, in this sequence, of an insect’s exoskeletal body. See next entry. 415.9-10: “eggshill rockcoach:” again, his underground shell, which protected him as an eggshell does an unhatched chick. “Rockcoach:” the cockroach also has a shell-like carapace. 415.10: “rockcoach their dance McCaper in retrophoebia:” as McHugh notes, Phoebe’s rotation (see .9 and note) is retrograde; similarly, “rockcoach” is “cockroach” with syllables reversed. He is dancing – capering - the cucaracha, the Spanish dance named for the cockroach. 415.11: “like fantastic…jenny aprils:” from “L’Allegro,” to “trip the light fantastic” is to dance; as McHugh notes, Toulouse-Lautrec’s Jane Avril was a dancer. 415.12: “heels…toesis:” heels and toes, as in a dance lesson 415.12: “attended to:” attended, too 415.13: “mutter and doffer duffmatt baxingmotch:” a mother and daughter deafmute boxing match – sounds as if we’re still in Barnum territory. Compare .8 and note. 415.14: “Satyr’s:” Satyr: folk-etymology for (.9) Saturn 415.14-5: “Satyr’s Caudledayed Nice and Hombly, Dombly Sod We Awhile but Ho, Timeagen, Wake!:” preparing for a Saturday night sleep with a bedtime caudle; sleeping for a while; waking up the next morning 415.14-5: “Hombly, Dombly Sod We Awhile but Ho, Time Timeagen, Wake!:” both the main story line of FW and an account of recent happenings: as cicada, he was buried in the sod, humble and dumb, but is now awake, singing. (Compare 47.21, where “sod” has the sense of burying, as in “sod under.”) 415.16: “mute uns nought:” tell us anything (or nothing). “Mute” is archaic English for “murmur.” A kind-of double negative; in context the main point seems to be that science can tell us “what’s what” about (material) creation but nothing about the why-wherefores of (divine) Creation. 415.17: “perhops:” includes grasshopper’s hops, perhaps also hops of beer-making 415.18: “sing ums tumtim:” baby talk, for the “Little Newbuddies.” Compare 191.21-4. 415.21-2: “Newbuddies:” see .21-2 and note. Nobodies, but then again, perhaps destined to eventually be Somebodies. (Overtones of “new buds” and – again, see .21-2 note.) 415.19: “ring his panch:” again, Saturn’s rings; perhaps with the moons, too 415.20: “publics:” public houses - pubs 415.20: “whole day:” as opposed to a “half day,” the afternoon off in “Nestor” 415.20-1: “Fudder and lighting for ally looty, any filly in a fog:” sounds like Vico’s first stage: free-for-all sex (any “filly” will do), no respect for possessions (everyone looting everyone else), but the thunder and lightning that will scare humans into caves, instituting monogamous marriage and private property. See next entry for another, parallel origin story. 415.21-2: “O’Cronione lags acrumbling in his sands but his sunsunsuns still tumble on:” As titan, an Irished Cronos/Saturn, about to be overthrown by Zeus/Jupiter, is on his last (“lags”) legs, coming apart like a dissolving sand castle, but, as astronomical body, his disintegrating bits have regrouped into molecular units which, like atomic particles around a nucleus, stars (“sunsunsuns”) circling around the center of a galaxy, planets around their suns, or, here, rings and moons around the mother planet, have each found a new equilibrium. (After all – returning to the mythical – Zeus and company successfully established a new order, in the wake of the old.) This is the Nebular Hypothesis, highly influential in Joyce’s day, devised in part to explain why all our sun’s planets (see next entry) rotate in the same plane, in the same direction. (On the other hand, “tumble” sounds pretty random, and “still tumble” echoes stumble.) 415.22: “Erething:” Earth, according to the Nebular Hypothesis (see previous entry), one of the planets spun and clumped together out of bits of the sun 415.22-3: “Erething above ground:” expression: everything open and aboveboard. Also, perhaps another reference (compare .1 and note) to the cicada’s emergence from underground 415.22-3: “as his Book of Breathings bed him:” the Book of Breedings would be Debrett’s Peerage or something similar, bidding him to live up to the family name 415.26: “Inzanzarity!:” insanity 415.26: “Pou! Pschla!:” Pooh! Pshaw! 415.27: "sommerfool:" as Robert Scotto notes, Henry VIII's fool was Will Sommer. By FW standards, the change of vowels from "u" (a fool of summer) to "o" makes the identification likely. 415.28: “hisphex:” his phiz (face). The window is also a mirror, reflecting his face. See next entry. 415.28: “icinglass:” ice on the window glass, as sign of winter; also, “-glass” in sense of mirror 415.28: “windhame:” with winter coming, a sobering reminder that “window” traces to “wind-hole” – without the thin shield of brittle (and icy) glass, its value as protection from the cold is “Nixnixundnix” (.28), worthless. 415.30: “that lopp’s:” that lot’s: in Britain, a dismissive term for undesirables 415.31: “social list:” socialist. Combined with the American “Social List” (a.k.a. “Social Register”) of old-money socialites – what the bohemian Ondt, with the rest of this (“lopp’s”) lot, is definitely “not on,” which is why we won’t come to his “party” (.31, .30), or vice versa. On the other hand, as Socialist Party, a classic example of FW’s coinciding contraries: socialists are not likely to be on the social list. See next entry. 415.31: “Ba’s berial:” timing is hard to pin down, but I suggest that this is Stalin’s henchman Lavrentiy Beria, of the Union of Soviet “social list” Republics. Although not as prominent as later, he was in the news in the thirties. 415.32: “as long as there’s a khul on a khat:” as long as there’s a “c” in “cat” – or, in this case, a “k” in “kat” 415.32: “khul on a khat:” caul on a cat: the membrane enclosing newborn kittens. Probably pertinent that, in humans, being born with a caul is supposed to be a be a guarantee against drowning, and that cats don’t like water. 415.33: “safely looked up his ovipository:” safely locked up his egg deposit – i.e. nest egg. In some animals, including insects, the male mates in a way that effectively seals up the female’s fertilized egg from incursion by other males. In human terms, he locked her chastity belt. 415.34-5: “loftet hails…Seekit Hatup!:” lifted his arm for a Heil Hitler…Sieg Heil! See 417.10-11: “Behailed His Gross the Ondt.” 415.36: “my reign shall flourish!:” rain makes flowers flower. 415.36-416.2: “As high as Happy’s hevens shall flurrish my haine shall hurrish!:” see McHugh. When happiness thrives, so does hatred. Equal opposites 416.3-4: “weltall…altitudinous wee a schelling in kopfers:” a contradiction. The expression “as tall as a shilling in coppers” (McHugh), usually applied to children, means short. (“Wee,” little, reinforces.) Also, probable echo of expression (current in Joyce’s time) “knee-high to grasshopper.” Also, a parallel contrast between a large, “raumybult” home and a (“schelling”) shieling, a shepherd’s hut; compare 159.1. 416.3: “raumybult:” roomy 416.5: “sullemn and:” “Solomon in all his glory” (Matthew 6:29) – the Ondt, as pope, will personify institutional opulence, both civic and religious. 416.5: “making spaces:” given context, probable overtone of making faces 416.6: “psyche:” Psyche, lover of Eros, is often depicted with the wings of a butterfly. 416.7: “mothst…muravyingly:” Joyce’s mother’s maiden name was Murray. 416.7: “muravyingly:” marvelously 416.9: “love and debts:” besides (McHugh) life and death, love and death. The “Liebestodt” (literally, love-death) of Wagner’s Tristan is FW’s main musical example. (My thanks to Robert Scotto for pointing this out.) James Joyce, a man in love, was often in debt. 416.12: “ladybirdies:” ladybugs 416.12: “(ichnehemon diagelegenaitoikon):” see note to 418.15. 416.13: “sexton:” a church officer, usually considered in charge of burials. Compare .15 and note. 416.13: “tantoo pooveroo quant a churchprince:” as poor as a prince of the church – that is, as a cardinal. As in Portrait, chapter one, ironic. Mock-Italian of “tantoo pooveroo” perhaps alludes to Italian domination of the church hierarchy. 416.13: “quant a:” Italian quanta: how much 416.14: “grub:” slang for food 416.15: “for a corapusse or to find a hospes:” as in Saint Mary’s Hospice for the Dying, in Ulysses. (“Very encouraging,” thinks Bloom, of the name.) At the end of his rope, he’ll be needing one for his (“corapusse”) corpse. 416.16: “Sultamont osa bare!:” no one seems to have come up with anything plausible for “Sultamont,” but “the cupboard is bare” certainly seems in play here. 416.16: “osa:” Scandinavian: also 416.18-9: “Crick’s corbicule:” takeoff on habit of swearing by various parts of (“Crick’s”) Christ’s body: his wounds, his bones, his flesh, etc. Here (see McHugh) whatever would correspond to a bee’s corbicula 416.20: “Meblizzered, him sluggered!:” McHugh notes that this refers to Proverbs 6:6. The whole, 6:6-8, is worth quoting in full: “Go to the ant thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise: / Which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, / Provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.” The basis for the fable - especially here, with the onset of (“Meblizzered”) the snows of winter, when the sluggard will get his just deserts 416.20: “I am heartily hungry!:” Robert Scotto points out the echo from Catholicism’s traditional Act of Contrition, to be said, especially, when facing death: “O my God, I am heartily sorry for having Offended Thee.” 416.21-6: “He…mitey:” impoverished, he’s pawning or selling off everything in the household not nailed down. 416.21: “He had eaten all the whilepaper:” 1. He had wasted, whiled away, his time, perhaps with an inflection of expressions like “ate up the clock.” The following five lines will itemize the different units of time he has wasted. 2. Wallpaper is applied with glue, which has sometimes been eaten in cases of extreme hunger. Also, insects eat wallpaper glue. Perhaps “glutinously” (.24) follows through 416.21: “swallowed the lustres:” consumed the lights – his eyes. Like Joyce, he will be “blind as a batflea” (417.3). Joyce’s habits were bad for his health in general, his eyes included. Advised, at one point, that his drinking might cost him what was left of his sight, he kept drinking. 416.23: “made mundballs of the ephemerids:” mudballs/dungballs, as with scarab beetles. As McHugh notes, “ephemerids” – etymologically, an insect that lasts for one day - are mayflies, proverbially short-lived (and here, along with hours, months, etc., an ephemeral length of time), being consumed and turned into excrement by the voracious grasshopper. See next entry. 416.24: “vorasioused most glutinously:” ate everything, voraciously and gluttonously. Locusts are grasshoppers. 416.24: “timeplace:” as McHugh notes, timepiece – the “-place” where you tell “time-“ 416.24-5: “timeplace…ternitary:” time, eternity. To “play for eternity” is to forego practical considerations for higher stakes – in Joyce’s case, literary immortality. 416.25: “not too dusty a cicada:” as McHugh notes, cicadas are known for their loud song. In “Wandering Rocks” Ben Dollard boasts that his singing voice is “not too dusty.” The Gracehoper is a musician, preparing to break into song at 418.10-419.8, and operatic singers are proverbial for their appetites. 416.26: “Chrysalmas:” includes (snow) crystals, here on the “bare branches” of a Christmas tree. Late December, just after the winter solstice and a week from New Year’s – a time for the turning over of new leaves. On a larger, lifetime scale, the time to prepare for crossover into eternity, as delegated, in the lines to follow, by the St. Peter, the Pope, and, in The Book of the Dead, Anubis 416.27: “stroll:” probable overtone of scroll 416.30: “twicycled:” bicycled; twice cycled: no wonder his head is (“Tossmania” (.30)) spinning. He has twice taken a rolling “round stroll” (.27-8), around, among other things, the earth, to (“Tossmania”) Tasmania and back, where (“June snows”(.32)) it would be snowing in June. (Same for (“Borabora-“ (.34-5)) Bora Bora). Given the global itinerary, “twicycled” may incorporate the maps, first prominent, as a product of global expansion, in the 17th century, displaying eastern and western hemispheres side by side: bi-cycles. They originated with the mapmaker John Speed, and on p. 429 we will encounter “Jaun” (.1) “speeds” (.11), and (“planemetrically” (.9)), planimetric maps, all part of Shaun/Jaun’s “rate of growing” to “fill space” and “burst in systems” (.10, .11). See Joyce letter quotation in McHugh: Tasmania is "antipodal," proverbially as far as possible from the British Isles and the destination of its transported convicts. It was also the dumping ground for Australia: a prison colony's prison colony - end of the world and the bottom of the barrel. 416.30: “twicycled…trestraversed:” 2-3 signature of the twins 416.30: “sees of the deed:” Dead Sea. Compare .32 and note. Also, an early sounding, in this sequence, of The Book of the Dead: the Gracehoper is a soul who has (“trestraversed” (.31)) traversed into the land of the dead, to be judged by the Ondt and sent to either “hevre” (.31) or “hull” (.32), heaven or hell. 416.31: “trestraversed:” Trastevere, a quarter of Rome 416.31-2: “come to hevre with his engiles or gone to hull with the poop?:” in France’s wars of religion, Le Havre was a Protestant bastion, a place where “To Hell with the Pope” (glossed by McHugh; occurs in “Circe”) would have found a welcoming audience. 416.32: “engiles…hull…poop:” the first possibly, the last two definitely, are words associated with ships: he is traveling by water – in this case on the Ondt “antboat” (418.5-6; see McHugh) of the Book of the Dead. 416.32: "the June snows:" because in Tasmania, it's winter in June. 416.33: “thuckflues on the hegelstomes:” at least in one sense, Hegel’s tomes are notably dense. 416.35-6: “ruching sleets off the coppeehouses:” the winter storm, including snow, hail (.32-3) and sleet, is ripping the rooftiles (see McHugh), or (“sleets”) slates, off the “-houses;” such slates were sometimes made of (“coppee-“) copper. This detail appears frequently in Dickens' stories of storms. 416.36: “ragnowrock rignewreck:” the end of his life; the end of everything: Ragnarok, shipwreck 416.36-417.1: “with an irritant, penetrant, siphonopterous spuk:” the wind in the (“thuckflues” (415.33)) chimney flues, sounding like a soda siphon’s 417.1: “Grausssssss! Opr!:” gross opera – grand opera. Again, the Gracehoper is a singer. 417.3: “blind as a batflea:” blind as a beetle. An earwig is a beetle. 417.4: “etymology:” I suggest a comma-like pause after this word. 417.6: “on top of his buzzer:” “buzz”ing in FW is typically the action of the brain. (See, for instance, 180.22.) As with Joyce’s note to 416.30 (McHugh quotes: “Tasmania, he stands on his head to be really ‘antipodal’”), he is standing on his head, to which the blood is rushing, especially at the “top,” causing a buzzing sensation. Sounds like a (buzzing) bee in his bonnet 417.6-7: “tezzily wondering wheer would his aluck alight or boss of both appease:” how is he going to fare, in his upcoming Book of the Dead heaven-or-hell meeting with the “boss,” the Ondt? Will he appease him? Will he luck out? 417.7: “his aluck alight or boss of both appease:” reprises Pranquean’s question to the Jarl. Both are standing at a door, seeking admission. In next entry, it is at the pearly gates, with Peter as porter. 417.8: “makes the aquinatance of the Ondt:” Saint Peter decides where the soul will go, and the Pope, schooled in (“aquinatance”) Aquinas, is Peter on earth. 417.9: “these mouschichal umsummables:” both are musical: the Gracehoper will write the song; the Ondt has the house-filling voice. According to his rival, his volume’s “immense,” but he can’t “beat time” (419.5, 8.) Equal-oppositely, “ensemble” may be in the mix. As a singer, Joyce had a pure tenor voice but lacked the volume for opera. See also 419.5 and note. 417.11: “His Gross:” His Grace: address for either duke or bishop – probably the latter in this case: compare “dhrone” (.11) and note, “Hosana” (.12) and note, and previous entry: the Pope is the Bishop of Rome. 417.11: “prostrandvorous:” postprandial: after-dinner; appears in “Proteus.” Full up (compare “Fullup” (121.35) with supper (“phullupsuppy” .15)), he is “sated” (.14). 417.11: “dhrone:” bishops have thrones 417.12: “Papylonian babooshkies:” as McHugh notes, “pampooties” and “babouches.” Pampooties are Irish mocassins; babouches are Turkish slippers. Both are pretty basic in design, but the overtone of “Babylonian” adds a note of orientalist ostentation, not to mention decadence: given context, “Papylonian” sounds “Papa,” Pope, with his fancy red shoes, as head of the organization which, partly because of what they consider its idolatrous extravagance, hostile Protestants like to call the Whore of Babylon. “Babushkas,” on the other hand, would signify homely peasant types. A mix-and-match of coinciding contraries: the pope’s footwear may look gaudy to some, but to the wearer they are a fisherman’s shoes. 417.12: “brunt:” blunt: a cigar with a blunt, as opposed to tapered, end. As in “Cyclops,” cigars typically signal fat-cat opulence. 417.12: “Hosana:” as in “Hosanna in the highest” – goes with bishop’s presence 417.13: “unthinkables:” unmentionables: euphemism for underwear 417.14: “swarming:” warming 417.15: “phullupsuppy:” compare 121.35; see .11 and note. 417.15: “plate o’monkynous:” “monkey nuts” are peanuts. (Pulse – dried peas – is the traditional staple for (“monkey”) monkish ascetics.) As a crop, they are subject to infestation by various insect pests, including aphids - therefore, by extension, ants. 417.15: “confucion:” infusion: a common term for tea, appropriate for this (“aristotaller” (.16)) tea-teetotaler. Also, possible overtone of “confection.” Compare next two entries. 417.15-6: “confucion of minthe:” “infusion de menthe” is an after-dinner digestive – something to take (.11) postprandially 417.16: “aristotaller:” again, teetotaler. Infusion de menthe is non-alcoholic. This abstemious fare, contrasting with the Ondt’s omnivorousness on the previous page, is, on the evidence, for show only: the Ondt can refrain because he is already sated. 417.17: “baskerboy on the Libido:” busker; beachboy basking libidinously on the Lido, known to be a trysting site. (According to Google Books, the first published occurrence of “beach boy” in the modern sense is 1926.) That, with his Havana cigar (.12), he is as happy has a honeysucker (.17) very like insinuates pederasty: Havana was known as a sex tourist center, especially for homosexual men. Compare 53.26 and note. 417.20: “allabroad:” to be “all abroad” is to be confused, perhaps delirious – as in “crazed” (.22), agape (“aguepe” (.22)), or at wit’s end (“at wittol’s indts” (.23)). 417.20: “smalls:” smallclothes: close-fitting (in fact “pinchably” so (.21)) knee-breeches 417.21-2: “be jiltses crazed and be jadeses whipt:” this is “schneezed” by the Gracehoper. Coming out of the winter storm, he has a cold, and his enunciation (of “Jesus Christ and Jesus wept”) is a result. 417.21-2: “jiltses…jadeses:” a jilt is an inconstant woman; a jade is a hussy. 417.22: “jadeses whipt:” Judases, and jades, whipped; also, Jonathan Swift. Amalgamation of Judas and Jesus is classic FW coincidence-of-contraries. 417.24: “true and perfect host:” in FW and out, “host” is a drastically overdetermined word. The host of the mass is true and perfect. Hosts can both provide food and be food. The Ondt/ant has just turned into a spider, and some spiders eat ants. 417.25-6: “queens laceswinging:” Queen Anne’s Lace, a flower 417.25-6: “laceswinging:” the (“spiter aspinne” (.24)) spider spinning a lace-like web, for, among other visitors, flies. Also, a prelate’s lace or lace-trimmed vestments – with more than a hint of ambisexual inclinations: he likes boys (see .17 and note) as well as girls. 417.27-8: “allallahbath of houris:” Orientalism, distilled: compare 597.14: “the bathhouse and the bazaar, allahallahallah.” As there, the name of Allah is medleyed into the sound of muezzins’ call to prayer. Compare also 213.33 and 242.31. 417.28: “ameising himself:” amassing himself. He’s getting bigger; his reign is expanding its range. 417.30: "I hope too:" I hope to too 417.31: “jucking Vespatilla jukely by the chimiche:” chucking Vespatilla under the chin 417.31: “jukely:” juke: a bar and/or brothel. Compare American "juke joint" 417.32-418.1: “The veripatetic imago of the impossible Gracehoper…featherweighed animule…was sufficiently and probably coocoo much for his chorous of gravitates:” very bad news for the Gracehoper. On the day of judgment in The Book of the Dead, the heart (the "chor-" in "chorous") of the deceased will be (“featherweighed”) weighed against a feather. If the two balance off one another, the deceased is saved; if not, he is eaten, so to speak, alive, by (“Emmet and demmet” (.21)) Amit, a compound of crocodile, lion, and hippopotamus. Here, (“gravitates”) gravity is apparently against him: the (“chorous”) cor, Latin for heart, sinks in the balance. As has been made clear, the Ondt, although “sated” and full-up (.14, .15) at the moment, will be more than up for the eating part. After all, according to the fable, it’s his turn. (For the “alive” part, see note to 418.15.) 417.32: “imago:” Freudian imago: “an unconscious idealized mental image of someone, especially a parent.” 417.32: “peripatetic:” Athenian school of philosophy 417.32-3: “impossible Gracehoper:” theologically, the fable is between salvation by grace or good works. The Ondt is the worker. No one deserves grace – it is impossible to earn – but who knows? Still, see note to 417.32-418.1: the lookout is not good. Also, see 419.6 and note. 417.33-4: “his thrice ephemeral journeeys:“ the circumnavigations of 416.26-7 417.33-4: “journeeys:” includes French journée because the circumnavigations were also through time, around the clock face. (At .36, it’s a “coocoo” clock.) 417.34-418.1: "featherweighed...gravitates:" see McHugh, also note to 417.32-418.1. Again, "gravitates" is the force of gravity by which, in The Book of the Dead, the heart is weighed against a feather. 417.35: “presumptuably:” presumptively, presumptuously 417.35: “sinctifying:” signifying. Also, sanctifying, with equal-opposite "sin-" 417.35: “chronic’s:” of time 417.35-6: “chronic’s…coocoo:” time as registered by a coocoo clock 417.36-418.1: “coocoo much for his chorous of gravitates:” the Gracehoper's coo-coo clownings were just too much for the Ondt's gravitas. In Joyce's time as now, "coo-coo" could mean "crazy." 418.1: “Artalone:” Parthalon: invader of Ireland and inventor of languages 418.1-2: “Artalone…Highfee:” Arthur and Iveagh Guinness 418.1-2: “with his parisites peeling off him:” compare Portrait, chapter five: according to that, when young the hygienically-challenged Joyce had, among other parisites, lice. At 416.29, the Gracehoper has “leivnits [live nits] in his hair.” 418.1: “parisites:” Joyce wrote FW in Paris. Compare “writing off his phoney” (.3) and note. 418.2: “Crackasider:” crusader 418.2-3: "Flunkey Footle furloughed foul, writing off his phoney:" given context, it's probably pertinent that Yankee Doodle "stuck a feather in his cap." Compare "featherweighed" of 417.34. 418.2: “Footle:” back-formation from “footling” 418.3: “writing off his phoney:” like Joyce in person, FW often (e.g. at 482.33-6) stresses the book’s phonetic dimension. Also, of course, “phoney”/phony as fake: FW writers are typically forgers. The phony item in question may be a dud or, as in America, a rubber check/"cheque:" compare the "washable pink" "D you D" "cheque" of 574.25-6. 418.5: “A darkener of the threshold:” the Gracehoper has appeared at the door; .5-6 gives the Ondt’s response. In Chapter 125 of E. A. Wallis Budge’s translation of The Book of the Dead, having entered the temple of (“Orimis” (.5)), Osiris (see McHugh), the soul is asked three questions, the second being, “Do you know the name of this threshold?” See first entry for .7. 418.6: "sekketh rede:" see McHugh. As "Field of Reeds," where Thoth, with his "reed behind the ear" (433.9), gets his writing implement. In the ("Amongded" (.6)) Book of the Dead, Thoth presides over the weighing of heart against feather. 418.6: “Evil-it-is:” Ondt is Danish for evil. 418.7: “Thou-who-thou-art:” On meeting Moses, God introduces himself as “I am what I am," thus raising the awkward question, what is the correct second-person form of address to someone with a name like that? This is probably close to the best available option. Also, in the same Chapter 125 cited in note to .5: “I saw the mystery of him who was there.” 418.7: “fleet-as-spindhrift:” spindrift is wind-blown sea spray - therefore, presumably, swiftly moving. Here, an all-flesh-is-grass summation of the fleeting evanescence of life. 418.8: “impfang thee of mine wideheight:” McHugh has German empfang, receive; given context, I suggest also ingang, Dutch for entrance (see 560.14): again, we are at a threshold. Also, equal-oppositely, German impfen, inoculate: he should internalize some of his “wideheight” in order to reject it. 418.8: “wideheight. Haru!:” Hello! “Wideheight:” ant or not (again, he’s become, intermittently, a spider, with an ever-widening web), the Ondt has grown large, wide and high, in his prosperity; compare his counterpart the Mookse at 154.24-5. 418.10-419.8: "He larved...beat time?:" the meter is predominantly anapestic, and "anapest" derives from the Greek for rebounding - like a grasshopper. More generally, the galloping, hopping-along beat suits its hope-for-the-best author. 418.10: “He larved ond he larved on he merd such a nauses:” he laughed so hard that he made a nuisance - two, actually: he made a loud snorting noise with his nose; he ("merd") shat his pants - misplaced his feces. 418.11: “he…his:” antecedent: the Ondt 418.12: "grondt Ondt:" the word "aunt" presents one with two options. You can pronounce it to rhyme with "rant" and be vulgar, or rhyme with it with "haunt" and be pretentious. (OED noncommittally gives both, for both Britain and America.) Here the speaker chooses the latter and doubles down - not just "Ondt" but "grondt Ondt." Conventionally, a great-, grand-, or great-grand- aunt would be a We-are-not-amused enforcer of the proprieties. I suggest that the Gracehoper is laying it on thick, perhaps, like Lenehan in Two Gallants," relieving "the servility of his manner" by "leaving his flattery open to the interpretation of raillery." Elision of "-t Ondt" may bring in French "Tante," pronounced "tont." For other such elisions, see entry to .23, two entries to .24, and 419.13.) 418.12: "weeping:" confirming Gracehoper as "Artalone the Weeps" (.1) 418.13: “For the sukes of the sakes you are safe in whose keeping:” for the sake of those in whose keeping you are safe. Overtone of "safekeeping" goes with the Ondt's waste-not, want-not (.30) philosophy. 418.14: “Floh and Luse:” flea and louse; women named Flo(rence) and Louise, or something similar. (Like (see next) “Vespatilla,” recalled from 414.25.) 418.15: “Vespatilla:” Latin vespa: wasp, here presumably a small and/or female one. (Also, although the connection eludes me, in Spanish a vespatilla is a slipper.) 418.15: “finds fat ones to heat:” wasps are insectivores, eaters of for instance, flies – which adds a grisly note to “so what flies be a full ‘un” (.18). The eating practices of some species of wasps – laying their eggs as (“parisites” (.1)) parasites in the bodies of other insects, to grow in and hollow out the host’s still-alive body from within – are so gruesome as to have figured in Victorian debates about the beneficence of Creation’s God. The ichneumenons of “ichnehmon diagelegenaitoikon” (416.12), identified by McHugh as “a family of parasitic wasps,” are of this group. 418.16: “As I once played the piper I must now pay the count:” “pay the piper” is often taken as referring to the Pied Piper, but, given that the Gracehoper is a dancer and has just (.14) been teaching the girls the polka, the likelier source is along the line of: If you want to dance (or have danced), you must pay the piper - suffer the consequences of your indulgences. “Played” for “paid” is a typical FW equal-opposite; “count” as in a bill, for instance in a restaurant or bar. Note that interchanging "played" with "paid" would make perfect sense, arguably more than in the original. 418.17: “Moyhammlet:” My hamlet. O Hehir says: Gaelic for “Plain of a Plague-grave.” 418.17: “marhaba to your Mount?” as McHugh notes, “marhaba” is an anagram of “Abraham.” Jerusalem’s Temple Mount is held to be the site where Abraham did not sacrifice Isaac. 418.18: “Let who likes lump above:” saying: if you don’t like it, you can lump it 418.18: "lieks lump above so what flies:" given all the jumping in the vicinity, a probable overtone of Liffey's Leixlip, Salmon-leap. Salmon eat flies. 418.19: “I could not be moregruggy if this was prompollen:” Ondt as wasp as (technically incorrect) bee, sated with pollen and therefore groggy, like (.17) Mohammedan martyr, sated amidst his houris. Also, as a fellow sufferer, your annotator can attest that seasonal pollen can make one groggy as well as sneezy. Also: see McHugh: “Prompollen” as primpeallán, Italian for beetle: another fellow insect on his menu. 418.20: “horsegift:” gift is German for poison. One you don't look in the mouth, the other you don't put in your mouth. Compare first note to .22. 418.21: "For the prize of your save is the price of my spend:" Gracehoper's take on Ondt's Waste-not-want-not sentiment, with hint of a zero-sum balance between one brother's prosperity and the other's poverty, perhaps, as at.30, suggesting that the Ondt might want to think about evening things out. (No chance.) Double sense of "spend" - pay out, ejaculate - is probably in play. 418.22: “pulladeftkiss:” given presence of brothers Castor and Pollux, probably Philadelphia, brotherly love. Complication: the “horsegift” of .20 is, among other things, the Trojan Horse, into whose mouth, contrary to the proverb (noted in McHugh) someone really ought to have looked. The Trojan War was a consequence of Zeus’s rape or seduction of Leda, which also produced Pollux, and castor (“castwhores” (.22)) is, in its original form, a deadly poison. So: a possible overtone of ("-deftkiss") “kiss of death.” In one version, the immortal Pollux, son of Zeus, was granted his wish that Castor, son of a king of Sparta, be made immortal too – reason enough for the latter to hope that the former will not “forsake ‘em” (.22). Compare note to .23. 418.22: “oldpollocks:” “old pollux:” once an impropriety-dodging version of “old bollocks” 418.23: “Or Culex feel etchy if Pulex don’t wake him?:” it takes a flea bite to wake him up. with l-l elision, overtone of lechy, lecherous, in “feel etchy:” fleas, because of their license to crawl all over the body, have sometimes figured in erotic literature. Also, other, FW sense of “wake:” in some versions of the story, Pollux finds Castor dead on a battlefield and either does or does not succeed in having him brought back to life. 418.24: "A locus to loue:" another elision: "locus t-:" locust. The "u" in "loue" is probably also a cursive "v," making "love." 418.24: "term it:" another elision: termite 418.26…7: “Aquileone…Gwyfyn:” a gryphon is half-eagle (Italian: aquila) and half-lion (Italian: leone, as McHugh notes). Also, aquilone - Italian for kite 418.26: “Aquileone nort winged:” according to legend, gryphons dwelt near the cave of Boreas, the (“nort”) North Wind. Compare “heartseast”- East Wind - and third entry for .29. 418.26: "go syf:" given context, probably a compressed "go south," which is what a North Wind, for instant a "Nor'easter," does. One would like to find a migratory bird in the vicinity; one doesn't. 418.27: "Since...we...farrest drewbryf:" since we first drew breath 418.29: “longsephyring sighs sought:” zephyrs are winds from the west; here paired with (“heartseast…orience”) the East Wind, from the Orient. (Both North and South Winds are in .26.). Long-suffering or not, they are traditionally cooling and refreshing. "Sought" probably includes "sough," poetically, and with pleasant connotations, the sound made by soothing winds. 418.29: “heartseast:” heart’s-ease: the pansy, in herbal medicine considered good for, among other things, skin afflictions 418.29: “orience:” orientation. Western winds, heading in the opposite direction, are orienting to the east. As opposed to east winds, they are usually welcome. 418.30: "precondamned, two and true:" Original Sin plus predestination: virtuous or vicious, it doesn't matter: the two brothers are going to hell. "True" may bring "three" into the equation by way of the twins' almost invariable two-three/three-two signature. 418.31: “till…Bruneyes come blue:” until brown eyes become blue. Blue is better. "the onliest one of her choice, her bleaueyedeal of a girl's friend" (384.25). Joyce had blue eyes. 418.32: “those gidflirts now gadding you:” as transitive verb, to gad is to travel on or around. Also, the (flirty, giddy) girls are goading him, probably with lust. 418.33: "an elapse must elopes:" the twenty-year old Nora, a lass, was a virgin when she eloped with Joyce. 418.35: “Of my tectucs takestock, tinktact, and ail’s weal:” tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, all’s well!: the town crier, announcing the time by his clock. All’s well with the common weal, or, equal-oppositely, not: it ("ail's") ails. 418.36: “As I view by your farlook hale yourself to my heal:” follows from previous line: if he is ailing, the speaker can heal him. The price is submission: to tug his forelock, or to (“heal”) heel like a dog. (Which is confusing, at least to me: this is the sort of thing you expect from the Ondt, not his brother.) Also, forelock to heel is a version of head to foot, cap-a-pie: frequently a division of the father into top half (Shaun/Mookse/Ondt, etc.) and bottom (Shem/Gripes/Gracehoper, etc.). Like most if not all FW brother-battles, this fable also includes (“Jacko and Esaup” (414.17)) Jacob and Esau, arranged topsy-turvely in the womb, the the former grabbing the other by the ("heal") heel. (Or, if not upside-down but rather face-face-to-face, "farlock" as fetlock, close to (but not exactly) a horse's heel.) Also, “farlook” as in far-sightedness, presbyopia (294.3), one of Joyce’s eye conditions; at 157.22 the Mookse is “farseeing,” and in this version Joyce’s encroaching blindness has been incorporated at least since 416.21, when the Gracehoper’s “lustres” were “swallowed.” 419.1: “my thinwhins:” Joyce was never not thin. 419.1: “blink points:” compare 155.23. As McHugh notes, Blick is German for glance. 419.3: “My in risible universe:” in my (in)visible universe. Gist of .3-4: you’ll hardly ever find, anywhere, anything with so much in front (“-beeforeness”) and so much behind. About occupied space (“your volumes immense” (.5)), may also include time, "-beefor-" and "behind," future and past. Also, the ultimate “Is it me, or is it hot in here?” question – is the universe ("in risible") invisible because it just is, or because I’m blind? 419.3: "youdly haud find:" you'd hardly find. The "-ly" is a displaced suffix. 419.4: “meat:” as elsewhere, mit = German for with 419.4: "Your feats end enormous:" very long shot here. "I Don't Love You 'Cause Your Feet's Too Big:" first appeared in 1936. Its best-known exponent was Fats Waller, in 1939 - too late for inclusion. Aside from it's not being in any FW publishings until the final one, your annotator cannot narrow it down, terminus a quo-wise. An allusion? As of now, possible, not probable. 419.5: “your volumes immense:” your (vocal) volume’s – is - immense. Again, unlike McCormack’s, Joyce’s singing voice lacked the volume required for a large hall. 419.5-8: "your volumes immense....why can't you beat time?:" a claim like those sometimes made in Shakespeare's sonnets, for instance "Not marble nor the gilded monument / Of princes shall outlive this pow'rful rhyme." People will be singing and dancing to the Gracehoper's music when the Ondt's palaces - his ant hill, for instance - have crumbled away. 419.6: “May the Graces I hoped for:” which makes him a Gracehoper. As such, a surprisingly hard-core Protestant tenet – that without God’s (unearned) grace, they are both “precondamned” (418.30). On the plus side, it leaves open the possibility that he, not his virtuous brother, is the one bound for heaven, however deplorable his behavior on earth. Compare 417.32-3 and note. 419.11ff.: “- Now…:” the performance was from the Gracehoper, a type of Shem, but the questioners proceed as if it came from Shaun, the postman. The conceit seems to be that it was the Shemian “wail withyin” (.14) – like the fermented spirits within the tight-bound barrel, occasionally seeping or bubbling or oozing out from between the slats. (As the inquisition proceeds, the seepage will increase; see, for instance, second note to 421.18, notes to 425.9-10, 425.11.) 419.11: “explosition:” explosion – refers to “holocaust” (.9-10). Also, exposition, as in speech or musical performance. Probably has to do with – see previous item – the fermentation of the contents 419.11-2: "How farflung is your folkloire and how velktingeling your volupkabulary!:" as McHugh notes, "folkloire" sounds the Gaelic for "vocabulary," which aligns it with the Volapuk of "volupkabulary" (.12) and the Esperanto of "vive sparanto" (.13) (Yet another elision: "-e sparanto.") Various examples of contemporary projects, of which in its way FW is one, towards establishing a universal language. For the nonce, the speaker is an enthusiast: Vive Esperanto! 419.12: “fokloire:” as folklore, refers to Shaun’s fable. Also: it may be a coincidence, but St Martin (.8) is the patron saint of Tours, on the Loire. That it is “farflung” (.11) relates to both Shemian/Joycean erudition and the postal service’s global reach, in service to the expanding British Empire. 419.12: “volupkabulary:” voluptuary; here, probably a voluptuous vocabulary; a good deal of the foregoing involved voluptuous doings. 419.12-3: “Qui vive sparanto qua muore contanto.:” compare 180.30: “Quivapieno,” the name of Shem’s house, a modification of the Italian saying for “Who goes slowly goes safely.” Speaking of modifications, see the original Italian expression in McHugh, and note changes: chi vive (Italian: he who lives) to “Qui vive” (Latin: on the lookout); sperando (Italian: singing) to “sparanto” (Italian sparando, shooting); the addition of Latin "qua,” meaning (McHugh) as far as; Italian cantando (singing) changed to – best guess – Portuguese “contanto,” as in contanto que, provided that, which would take us back, more or less, to Qui.” If “sparanto” signals the polyglot Esperanto, the revised passage certainly qualifies. All in all, the changes would seem to add a heavy overlay of wariness – and, after all, just how cheery, really, is the original version? If you live in hope, you will die singing? Wasn’t that the dismal end of the Gracehoper? 419.13: “O foibler, O flip:” O fabler, too full of foibles, and definitely too flip, that is, too disinclined to take things seriously. This is the Shem side of the twins being addressed, with the repeated “O”’s perhaps a comment on his all-too-Irish Irishness. 419.14: “earopen:” his performance was pleasing to the (open) European ear. 419.15: “friskly shortiest like treacling tumtim:” recalls brothers Frisky Shorty and Treacle Tom (36.16-8) 419.15: "tumtim:" the language is friendly, but infantilizing. The speaker treats the poet as a blarneying (.16) stage-Irishman sort - even addresses him as a ("Lettrechaun" (.17)) leprechaun. 419.19: “His Christian’s Em:” as McHugh says, (his) Majesty, frequently the letter’s addressee. Also, "Em" as short for "Emmet," the Ondt/Ant, in excelsis 419.20: “Greek! Hand it to me!:” Shaun has just been asked if he can read the “anaglyptics” of the letter (.19), and “glyph” is, in origin, a Greek word. (Anna’s glyph is the Greek letter Δ and, as at 615.12, often the beginning of the FW letter; also see 123.1.) This both says that he will be easily able to do the job (to read Greek) and, contrariwise, echoes popular saying “It’s Greek to me,” meaning that he can’t. 419.20: “plosively pointing:” phonetically, p is a plosive. That he is pointing to his (“quistoquill” (.21)) quill pen may signify that, as elsewhere in FW (e.g. 18.18), “read” (.18) is also or has been taken to mean “reed” – to write with a reed. Also, a variant on FW’s frequent pairing of the mirror-image letters p and q; see, for instance 495.20 and note. 419.20-1: “plosively pointing to the cinnamon quistoquill:” in Italian, a cinnamon stick is a canella, a small tube or cannon. (Compare “cannoli.”) Like a cannon or quill or fountain pen, it is a tube. As cannon, it can “plosively” explode – Shaun’s rejoinder to Shem’s “farflung” “explosition” (.11). 419.21: “quistoquill behind his acoustrolobe:” as McHugh notes, “acoustrolobe” is lobe of ear, for acoustics. Writers in general and journalists in particular are popularly represented with a pen or pencil (here, a quill, or (questa o quella (see McHugh)) something like it) stuck behind the ear. 419.22: “as pope and water could christen me:” christenings usually accompany baptisms, performed with water – here, with (“pope”) soap and water. The pope can perform them. 419.23: “ridingpin:” I can’t tell how, but some publications found through Google Books indicate that at the time a “riding pin” could be a bomb component. 419.23: “Sing Larynx:” singing with the larynx 419.23: “letter potent:” letter perfect. (Compare 181.2.) 419.24: “play the sem backwards like Oscan wild or in shunt Persse:” don’t know about Oscar Wilde, but (“Persse”) Persian (Farsi) writing is right to left – to an English or European reader, backwards. “Play the sem backwards:” ply the pen backwards, writing in reverse of the normal direction. Also, play at being the opposite (but also, equally-oppositely, the (“sem”) same) of Shem (the original Semite: Hebrew is also written right-to-left). Possible variant on backward “sem” as multiple of “me:” compare 410.12, where Shaun wants to “isolate I from my Multiple Mes.” Also, Wikipedia informs me that Oscan is an extinct Indo-European language of southern Italy, similar to Latin. Probably a coincidence, but several of its letters (B, R. E, K, J, D, and S) resemble mirror images of the Roman equivalents. Compare Shem's "mirrorhand" at 177.31. (It seems somewhat surprising that neither occurrence, apparently, includes any suggestion of Leonardo, the best-known mirror-hand writer.) 419.24: “play the sem backwards:” a boast: I could do (what he does) backwards and forwards; at .26-7 he will add “with my oyes thickshut” – with my eyes shut. 419.24: “Oscan:” Ossian 419.24-5: “shunt Persse transluding from the Otherman:” Zoroaster was a Persian prophet, a.k.a. Zarathustra. Nietzsche’s Thus Spake Zarathustra advocates the advent of the (Übermensch) “Overman,” as opposed to the otherworldly ideals of Christianity. 419.25: “off the Toptic:” off the topic 419.25-7: “off the types of my finklers in the draught or with buttles, with my oyes thickshut and all:” accomplished touch typists can write on the typewriter with their eyes closed. Also, probably, a pianist, playing with eyes shut. 419.27-8: “hellas…harrobrew:” Hellenism and Hebraism: according to Matthew Arnold – not a Joyce favorite – the twin foundations of western culture. 419.27-8: “bad on the corns and callouses:” corns are on the feet, callouses on the fingers. Here, the former is an occupational hazard of his job as a postman, the latter from his work as writer and/or (see .25-7) typist. 419.29: “theodicy:” The Odyssey. The subject here is Joyce/Shem’s Ulysses. Also, the oddity, the idiocy, in re the “notepaper” – of the letter in question. According to Shaun, this is in response to “your remark just now” (.29-33) – but which? Not sure, but perhaps he’s referring to his questioner’s comments about “the strangewrote anaglyptics” (.18-9), written in an odd idiom. 419.29: “re’furloined notepaper:” almost certainly alludes to Poe’s “The Purloined Letter.” Sounds charge against Joyce’s (purloined) “stolentelling” (424.35). Also, a “furl”ed piece of writing would be a scroll, which FW sometimes is: see, for instance, 19.25-6 and note. To refurl it would be the equivalent of closing shut a codex after reading it 419.30-35: “I am pay Gay…Lucan’s:” recalls that in some countries, for instance America, censorship, here of Joyce’s writings, was the business of the post office. (As McHugh notes, “pay Gay” (“P.G.” (.30), is short for Postmaster General. ) 419.31-2: “not wortha bottle of cabbis:” “bottle” could originally mean bundle, and cabbages were sold in bundles. “Not worth a cabbage” (or “cabbage head,” “cabbage stalk,” etc.) was an expression around in Joyce’s time. 419.32: “Overdrawn!:” repeats Bloom’s literary critique, in “Circe,” of Philip Beaufoy’s writing. Can also describe what in America is called a bounced check 419.32: “Puffedly offal tosh!” stage-English idiom. “Auctionable” (.33) pronunciation of “actionable” probably follows suit 419.34: “clerical horrors:” clerical errors, for instance of transcription: famously true of Ulysses (and, alas, later, also of FW) 419.34-5: “second-class matter:” as McHugh notes, the correct postal term for periodicals, but also a comment on its quality 419.35: “fuellest:” fit for fuel, i.e. for (“fired”) burning 420.3-4: “the mother and Mr Unmentionable:” the letter is a joint production of the unspeakable Shem and ALP. 420.3: “(O breed not his same!):” don’t anyone reproduce his kind 420.5: “sootynemm:” city’s name 420.5-6: "When she slipped under my couchman:” as McHugh notes, (“couchman”) couchemar is nightmare, under which the (“slipped”) sleeping ALP is here depicted. See Henry Fuseli’s 1781 painting “The Nightmare.” Also, Dorothy Parker on drinking: “Two or three and I’m under the table, four and I’m under the host.” A couchman is both a lower-order servant and the natural attendant of a (night)mare. Shaun’s point is that the letter is spreading scandal about the family, mother included; he will go on to reprise the rumor about the father’s indiscretion in the park. 420.7: “two madges on the makewater:” two Marges/Maggies etc. – the two temptresses in their less respectable manifestations – who are making water, always or almost always a feature of the park scandal. Also, with “treefellers” (.8), the standard 2-3 or 3-2 twin signature. I suggest that the “two” here may also be read as (Roman numeral) II, then (Arabic) 11, making for another 1132. 420.8: “treefellers:” trefoils, that is, shamrocks 420.8: “hawks his handmud:” Hamlet: “I know a hawk from a handsaw.” 420.8-9: “handmud figgers from Francie:” feelthy peectures, from France; Ulysses, like FW, was published in Paris. For “mud,” compare 286.31. Egyptian clay tablets were made from Nile mud. To make a fig, an obscene gesture, thrust a thumb through index and middle (“figgers”) fingers. 420.8-9: “Francie to Fritzie:” compare “Circe:” “Froggie and Fritz:” French and German caricatures 420.9: “Fritzie down in the kookin:” nothing, so far as I can tell, especially German or Dutch (or French) about Kate the (“kookin”) cook. Still, this apparently refers to her. “Down in the kookin” recalls Bloom’s kitchen, one flight down from the main entrance – a typical arrangement. 420.9: “Phiz:” penname of Dickens’ main illustrator, Hablot Browne. At the moment, Shem is both writer and pictorial artist. 420.9-11: “Phiz is me mother and Hair’s me father. Bauy Betty Famm and Pig Pig Pike:” the “figgers” Shem is hawking are of, probably among others, his mother and father, and don’t sound flattering. (Joyce was much resented in Dublin for his disabused representations of its inhabitants, real, composite, or imagined; as late as the 1970’s my estimable dissertation adviser, John Kelleher, remained indignant over the Ulysses depiction of George Russell.) “Phiz is:” the phiz of his mother the Mrs, pronounced “mizzizz;” “Hair’s” as in Herr, for the father: on the first page of Portrait, the father has “a hairy face,” and see 260, LM 1. 420.11: “livetree…ecotaph:” ALP (Liffey), with waterside tree, as for instance at the end of I.8, with HCE, in reversed order: ecotaph. 420.11: “ecotaph:” cenotaph – perhaps the WW I memorial in Whitehall. Paired with “livetree:” water and stone, living tree and tombstone. McHugh notes the overtone of “epitaph.” 420.12: “(let it stayne!):” let it stand. Editor’s “stet.” For “stayne,” Christiani has “stay” and “stone.” 420.12: “With balsinbal bimbies swarming tiltop:” compare 504.22. 420.14: “wot not:” did not know. (Maybe obvious) 420.15-6: “An infant sailing eggshells on the floor of a wet day:” compare William Carleton, Traits and Stories of the Irish Peasantry, Vol. I, p. 87: “The flure was worn into large holes, that were mostly filled with slop, where the childher used to dabble about, and amuse themselves by sailing eggshells upon them.” 420.17-9: “Letter, carried of Shaun, son of Hek, written of Shem, brother of Shaun, uttered for Alp, mother of Shem, for Hek, father of Shaun:” reflects the FW generality that Shaun is the father’s favorite and Shem the mother’s. 420.17-421.14: “Letter…Stop:” almost without exception, the letter’s random peregrinations in the Dublin area will be of a ramshackle, dissolute, drastically impecunious cityscape, true to the Dubliners addresses which keep showing up; if anything, things seem to have gotten worse. The listed occupants are dead, absent, or in hiding; many of the buildings are shuttered, blown up, or falling down; it’s hard to find a functioning toilet, public or otherwise. The upshot is that Shaun can never find a fit address for the delivery of his letter. 420.17: “written of Shem:” written by Shem, although the “of” is ambiguous, and in other versions the letter is a collaboration between Shem and ALP, or dictated to Shem but originating with ALP…here, it is “uttered for Alp” (.18). Among other things, “uttered for” can mean something like “gave voice to.” In any case, the letter is always signed by ALP - to be sure with ink, produced by Shem. (For another, similar use of “of,” see .36.) At 421.35 we will get a somewhat different version, that in writing the letter ALP “was put up to it by” Shem. 420.18: “uttered for Alp:” as with “written of Shem” (see previous entry), “for” is ambiguous – either on her behalf or for her reception. 420.19: “Initialled:” to initial a letter usually means to certify one’s agreement with its contents. Here, the initial – G – apparently stands for “Gone,” the first of the many vacated addresses. See 421.30 and note. 420.19: “Hardware Saint:” a mix-up: “Street” and “Saint” both have the same initial of “St.” 420.20-1: “Commerces:” Commences 420.21: “13 Fitzgibbets:” Justice Gerald Fitzgibbon was himself no hanging judge, but he was a prominent member of a legal system that often employed the gibbet. (“Aeolus” presents him unsympathetically, as very much a part of the establishment.) Traditionally, there are thirteen steps to the gallows platform. 420.22: “Tax 9d.:” as determined by Ireland’s Griffith’s Valuation (compare 41.34 and McHugh’s note) – the amount of poor tax owed by the given property owner 420.23: “Nave unlodgeable:” a knave unfit to take in for lodging, at least at the address in question 420.24: “Noon sick parson:” compare 261.26: “Terror of the noonstruck by day.” 420.24: “Windsewer:” “They that sow the wind shall reap the whirlwind” (Hosea 8:7). 420.25: “Exbelled:” expelled with bell, book, and candle 420.25-6: “Pulldown:” a demolished building is “pulled down.” 420.27: “Fit Dunlop and Be Satisfied:” again, Dunlop was a popular manufacturer of rubber condoms. Compare 584.13. During the FW years, no Dublin business would have had them for sale, but as Ulysses testifies they could be purchased by mail order – illegally, presumably – from London. Also: a number of the items encountered on this itinerary are posted advertisements, not street signs or addresses. This is one of them. 420.27: “Roofloss:” roofless 420.28-9: “Mr. Domnall O’Domnally:” in FW, for instance 499.6 and 620.19-20, “dod” can signify death, and there are a number of dead people in this catalogue. Compare the “D.E.D.” of .30. Also, of course, damned. 420.28: “None so strait:” Damascus’ “the street called Straight” – Acts 9:11 420.29: “Shutter up:” shut up, as in, Shut up shop, Shut up, you. Either the establishment is shut up or there’s nobody home. 420.30-1: “Rice Factor:” a unit of measurement in radio communication; a seller of rice. This is probably a sign giving the establishment’s business. 420.31: “Arrusted:” arrested 420.32: “the March past of Civilisation:” a “march past” is a ceremonial march, to be reviewed by some superior or dignitary. “The march of Civilisation” was a common term for the inevitability of progress, frequently invoked on behalf of America’s confiscation of Indian lands and/or the expansion of the British Empire: an example - surely, for Joyce, sardonic - would be the history of the Irish House of Parliament: see McHugh on .32-4. May imply that, for better or worse, this particular march has bypassed Ireland. Perhaps also “March past” as postal formula for “past March” – another indication of how lost and waylaid the letter has become 420.33: “2 Milchbroke…Wrongly spilled:” whichever address (see McHugh), it is indeed wrongly spelled, although, in this sequence, hardly unusual in that regard. Also, spilled (“Milch-”) milk, over which there is no point in crying 420.34: “Drowned in the Laffey:” expression: drowned in laughter. Usually signifies that someone’s attempt at speech has been drowned out by the laughter of others. Also, someone drowned in the Liffey – yet another dead Dubliner 420.35: “The Reverest Adam Foundlitter:” “Reverest:” the Most Reverend. (Joyce's invention.) On the itinerary, probably Findlater’s Church, on the corner of Rutland (now Parnell) Square. In Joyce’s time, there were also a number of locations for Findlater’s stores. 420.35: “Foundlitter. Shown geshotten:” see McHugh: he found the letter, got shot. It’s as if the letter were a kind of epistolary Hope Diamond. 420.36: “Cabranke:” as in “Eumaeus,” a “cabrank” (usually spelled “cab-rank,” but Joyce dislikes hyphenated words) is a place where cabs are lined up for customers. Here, it seems to be one point in someone’s directions of where to go next. 420.36: “Seized of the Crownd:” Seat of the monarch (at coronation); seized by the crown: confiscated by the state. Also, by the crowd. Equal opposites. 420.36-421.1: “Buy Paterson’s matches:” another ad on one of the local buildings; compare .7 and note. 421.2: “Unclaimed Male:” post office’s Unclaimed Mail Desk 421.3: “Closet for Repeers:” probably a water closet, which, because needing repairs, like “thinconvenience” (the convenience) of 520.6 is closed, unavailable when needed 421.4: “Key at Kate’s. Kiss:” compare, for instance, 8.8 (“for her passkey supply to the janitrix, the mistress Kathe”) or 93.21-2: “Ask Kavya for the Kay.” Irish pronunciation of “key” would, at least sometimes, be “Kay,” initial K for “Kate” (and “Kiss”). (On the last page, ALP is the one with “The keys to” (628.15), but then at that point she is in process of becoming her older triple-goddess incarnation, Kate, who, as FW re-begins, will – back again to 8.8 – have the “passkey.”) Also, see previous entry: In I.1 Kate’s key is, among other things, the key to a (Water-loo) loo, and here she may be in charge of allowing access to a peers-only pay toilet. Compare .8 with note. Again, the last kiss of FW, with “Lps,” lips, will include The keys to” (628.15) - Arra-na-Pogue (transated by Glasheen as "Nora of the Kiss," combined with Houdini's wife, passing him a key with a kiss before one of his escape acts. 421.4-5: “Kiss. Isaac’s Butt, Poor Man. Dalicious arson:” given the Dublin itinerary, I suggest that this refers to Butt Bridge, next-to-easternmost of the Liffey’s bridges. Also, of course, kissing butt is an American version of (“Aeolus”) kissing someone’s “Royal Irish Arse” and, here, doubling down, declaring it delicious. See 568.23-5 for another example. Butt, “Poor Man,” was an M.P. 421.5: “Justiciated:” no such word, but a justiciary was a judge in a criminal court. Here, one has (“Kainly forewarred” (.5)) kindly forewarned a reprobate to mend his ways. 421.5: “Kainly forewarred:” Cain warred first. Along with Jacob and Esau, another – and, in FW, parallel – brother battle 421.6: “All reddy berried:” red berries go with (“hollow and envy”) holly and ivy (.6-7), next – signs of Christmas mailing. Also, yet another defunct Dubliner, already buried 421.7: “Desert it:” deserted 421.7-8: “Overwayed. Understrumped. Back to the P.O. Kaer of:” see McHugh. Having insufficient postage for its weight, the letter has been returned to the Post Office, to be returned – care of – the (.10) “Sender” (Miss/Mrs. Anders/Anderson, etc., often the letter’s addresser, who (of course, the way things are going) will be (“ab, Sender”) absent.) 421.8: “Too let:” aside from “To Let” sign on residence, the succeeding “To be Soiled” suggests “toilet.” At last! 421.8-9: “Cohabited by Unfortunates:” inhabited, here, by more than one person. Also, “cohabitation” usually signifies an unmarried couple living together, and in Ulysses an “unfortunate” is a woman whose virtue has been compromised. 421.9: “Lost All Licence:” sign on restaurant or pub that it has lost its drinking license 421.9: “His Bouf Toe is Frozen Over:” if the beef tea was frozen, it must have been very cold. 421.9: “Bouf Toe:” a bouffi – as McHugh notes, French for bloated – big toe signified gout, thought to be the result of intemperate living. 421.10: “X, Y and Z, Ltd:” displayed name of a professional firm 421.10: “Destinied Tears:” letter’s watermark (112.32), possibly from tears 421.10: “ab, Sender:” the occupant is absent, probably for good 421.11: “31 Jun.:” compare 420.20, “31 Jan.” There is no such date as June 31. There is a January 31. 421.11: “Razed. Lawyered:” Raised. Lowered. (Coinciding contraries, but also not: lawyering someone is a good way of razing them.) 421.12: “Bayleaffs:” bay leaves awarded to poet, along with (bailiffs) bill-collector enforcers – a sardonic comment on the rewards of art. See next entry. 421.12: “Step out to Hall out of that, Ereweaker:” voice of bailiffs at (hall) door, who are not buying the story - either that he’s left (that the house is “Vacant” (.11)), or that he’s too (“Ereweaker” (.12)) weak of ear to hear them. 421.13: “Bloody Big Bristol. Bung:” Bristol barrel, with its bung. Also, a Bristol hat, which has an oversized brim – a kind of fedora, still around today. (According to Google Images, Bristol hats can be white; throughout FW someone, usually HCE, is being told to take off “that” white hat.) Also, BBC. 421.13-4: “Bung. Stop. Bung. Stop. Stop.:” sound of bailiffs pounding on the door – see .12 and note, and compare 70.10-73.22. Also, terse telegraphese; variant of letter’s conclusive X’s 421.14: “Baked:” drunk 421.15-20: “--Kind…mentioningahem:” that is, isn’t ordinary street language used freely by the likes of Shaun just as obscene as the writings of Shem? (For some reason, the syntax of this sentence is exceptionally bollixed – at times, it seems, backwards.) Written at a time when some colloquial expressions could still be officially unprintable; Joyce did his bit to change that. 421.16-7: “since…millions of moods used up slanguage:” compare 385.20 - language’s “moods and senses” 421.16: “rose to the use of money:” the standard expression is “rose to the use of reason.” 421.16-9: “have you not…used up slanguage tun times as words as the penmarks used out in sinscript with such hesitancy by your cerebrated brother:” Shaun is the talker (sometimes singer); Shem is the writer. Voluble speakers can get out many more words-per-minute than the most fluent of writers (at least (“tun times”) ten times more), and Shem, like Joyce, works slowly, the (“penmarks”) marks of his pen on paper proceeding “with…hesitancy.” In the sequence to follow, Shaun will be increasingly defensive about the degree of his literacy, if any, compared to that of his “litterery” (422.35) “scribble[r]” brother (419.31) – a sensitive subject, surely if one’s job were delivering the mail, therefore being able to read written addresses. May help explain all the undelivered and mis-delivered postings of 420.17-421.14. Compare .27 and note. 421.17: “used up slanguage:” used-up language: what Portrait’s chapter five calls the “heaps of dead language” to be found on old posted adverts, and George Orwell called “dying metaphors.” Slang is especially susceptible to encroaching desuetude. Of the two brothers, Shaun, being addressed here, is the one more given to shopworn words, but Shem is not exempt, because no one is: compare 186.6-10 and note. The charge is just that Shaun does it (“tun times” (.18)) ten times as much. 421.18: “penmarks used out in sinscript:” what in gambling circles would have been called “paper” – I.O.U.’s instead of cash on hand. The “-script” in “sinscript” is non-government-issued replacement money, which, certainly when compared to Shaun’s real money (.16), can turn out to be either worthless or worth less. 421.18: “used out:” oozed out. Again, Shem’s production of the written word is slow-paced. Also, as the beer in Shaun’s (“tun”) barrel, he is, or will be, oozing out between the slats. Compare note to 419.11ff. 421.18: “sinscript:” like Joyce, Shem’s writings are sinful, the opposite of scripture. Also, he knows or pretends to know (“sanscreed” (215.24)) Sanskrit, proverbially proof of extreme erudition. 421.18: “tun:” beer barrel (Shaun) 421.18: “tun times:” compare “barrelhours” (429.7) – velocity, as measured in the time it takes a barrel to cover a certain distance. 421.19-20: “not mentioningahem:” not mentioning him, not mentioning…ahem. That is, someone who for reasons of politeness will remain nameless 421.21-2: “-CelebrAted! Shaun replied under the sheltar of his broguish:” your annotator lacks the background to judge, but this seems to imply that Shaun’s re-pronunciation of “cerebrated”/celebrated (.19), with his heavy stress on the third syllable (note “accentually” at .26), with its hard “a,” is distinctively (“broguish”) Irish. (Same for change of “shelter” to “sheltar” – see next entry.) Also, note McHugh on “sheltar.” The gist seems to be that he is accusing his brother of putting on a fake brogue in order to hide his true identity. A good deal of this latest response (421.20-422.18) is preoccupied, sometimes indignantly or defensively, with questions of pronunciation. 421.21-2: “under the sheltar of his broguish:” he’s trying to prove his all-Irish bonafides by affecting a brogue, probably as a result of recent orders from on high to start learning Gaelic: see second entry for .27. Admixture of (“shelta-“), Shelta, a distinctly Irish idiom, may or may not help. 421.22: “his magic lantern:” his postman’s lamp. Also, Diogenes’ lantern. Also (McHugh) as Aladdin’s lamp, rubbing it seems to be inefficacious – no genie appears. 421.23: “Your words grates on my ares:” because being written rather than spoken, the very sound of Shem’s writing – the “penmarks” (.18) scraping across paper – grates in Shaun’s ears. Equal-oppositely, echoes and reverses, the expression “grateful to (or on) the ears.” Also, “ares” as anagram of “arse” as synonym of “Butt” (.4) – see note to .4-5. 421.25: “Mr O’Shem the Draper:” the “O” adds an extra layer of Irishness, which in his present mood Shaun finds a minus, not a plus. The time apparently corresponds to the moment when Irish postmen ceased being employees of the crown and became Irish civil servants: see 411.22-4 and McHugh’s note and my second entry for .27. Shaun is conflicted on the subject, or perhaps just irritated. “The Draper” was of course Swift, as a (controversial, anti-English, though an English native) writer – an Irish hero, but Shaun seems to demur. 421.25: “O’Shem:” Ossian, (bogus) Irish author. James McPherson will show up at 423.1. 421.25: “before letter:” as in, beforementioned letter. Also, the “O” he just now added to “Shem.” Some class-conscious Irish, for instance emigrants heading to America, dropped the “O” in transit. 421.25-6: “as should I be accentually called upon for a dieoguinnsis:” should I be actually called upon for a diagnosis (of your accent)? Shaun has just (.23) repeated “hesitancy” (.24) with stresses intended to make the word sound like a stretched-out version of “HCE.” 421.26: “dieoguinnsis:” Diogenes – goes with “lantern” of .22. Compare 411.20, 411.27-8, and 411.29, with notes. Also, both Guinness and Diogenes are/were in barrels. 421.27: “spewing, into impulsory irelitz:” impulsive loquacity of speech being spewed out, as opposed to the slow and painstaking composition (.18-9) of written language – here as contrast between talker Shaun and writer Shem, but, given context, may also apply to the production of the letter: babbler ALP, scrivener Shem: compare .15-20. 421.27: “into impulsory irelitz:” compulsory Irish. In her essay “National Languages and Neutral Idioms: Joyce Among the Language Laws:” (ed. Jonathan Goldman, Joyce and the Law, 2017, 63-83), Tekla Mecsnóber reports that in 1922 Ireland’s Postmaster General commanded all employees to “make themselves conversant with Gaelic without losing any more time.” Compare 271 fn. 3: “cumpohlstery English.” (In either case, as "irelitz," a Berlitz course in Irish would be helpful.) 421.28: “unfruitful:” unfaithful 422.29: “views of Denmark:” compare 293.12, a mixed-up “Views of Dublin.” Dublin was founded by the Danes. 421.29: “Denmark:” has misheard “penmarks” of .18 421.29: “No, sah!:” staple of American southern – especially black – speech. Same for “high G” (.30, and “mammy” (.35)); note also Ku Klux Klan at 422.2. Suggestion: in distinguishing his own spoken speech from Shem’s written version, Shaun falls into the kind of blowhard verbosity Joyce associates with Americans, especially from the south. 421.30: “before my high Gee:” about as high as a singer can sing – close to a scream. Ending an aria on high G is bound to be dramatic. A famous example is “Una voce poco fa” in Rossini’s The Barber of Seville. Also, compare 420.19: “Initialled. Gee. Gone.” Here, the G in “my high Gee,” stands for God, there, for “Gone,” the logic perhaps being that God is one of the many absences in this scavenger-hunt circuit. 421.31: “fagroaster:” “roasting fags:” a popular form of public-school torture: “fags” were forced to stand excruciatingly close to the hearth fire. Despite 422.11 (see note), probably no homophobic sense. (Also see McHugh: a “fag roster” was – again – for public schools, at which lowlifes like Shem will not be welcome.) 421.32: “from Rooters and Havers through Gilligan’s maypoles:” see McHugh. He gets his news from the radio, as opposed to newspapers. Again, how literate is he? 421.33: “pixillated doodler:” McHugh notes that this comes from Mr Deeds Goes to Town, a movie released in 1936. (The words do not appear in the versions first published, by transition, in 1927 and 1928.) “Pixillated” (or “pixilated”) usually carries connotations, certainly apt in this case, of drunkenness. In any case, Shaun is once again taking umbrage at Shem’s being a (“doodler”) penman. See next entry. 421.34: “boasting always of his ruddy complexious:” as established at 3.13-4, thanks in part to his drinking, Joyce had a ruddy complexion. Perhaps, also, another dig at his/Shem’s Irishness, often represented as being robustly ruddy by contrast with what “Wandering Rocks” calls English “palefaces.” In some cases a sign of rude health, but as Bloom reflects in “Aeolus,” at other times “That hectic flush spells finis for a man.” According to Shaun, Shem, though on his last legs (.33), is self-deludingly bragging that his alcohol-heated complexion is good news. At .35 (see McHugh), erypselias may also be a contributor. 421.35-422.3: “him, the iniquity that ought to be depraved of his libertins to be silenced, sackclothed and suspended, and placed in irons into some drapyery institution off the antipopees for wordsharping only if he was klanver enough to pass the panel fleishcurers and the fieldpost censor:” in general, Jonathan Swift: the draper; as attested by his epitaph a servant of liberty, eventually deprived of liberty when institutionalized in senility; a wordsmith who found clever ways of dodging the censors; as Anglican dean an “antipopee.” What happened to him – madness – should/will happen to Shem. 421.36-422.1: “silenced, sackclothed and suspended, and placed in irons:” combines recommendations that he be cloistered (to wear sackcloth), imprisoned, and hung in irons, the last a common fate of pirates. 422.2: “wordsharping:” quills, like pencils, need to be sharpened periodically; steel pens (e.g. Stephen’s “cold steel pen,” in “Telemachus”) are already sharp. 422.2 “klanver:” again – allusion to Ku Klux Klan – one of several American (and violent) elements in this sequence. 422.3: "panel:” penal 422.3: “fieldpost censor:” see McHugh. During war, military mail is routinely censored. Also (see 419.35 and note), the postal service was in charge of censorship. 422.3: “Gach!:” like “Yuck!” – a stagey sound of disgust 422.4-5: “solitary:” solitary confinement 422.5: “king’s paunches:” perhaps an overtone of “pouches,” as in mail pouches, in service of the king’s Royal Mail. Among the English kings in Joyce’s lifetime, Edward VII was the one with the paunch. 422.6: “seeing Scotch snakes:” Scotch or otherwise, seeing snakes is a proverbial feature of delirium tremens. (See Joseph Conrad, Lord Jim, about a case of the d.t.’s: “Traditionally he ought to see snakes.”) 422.7-8: “brach premises:” broken promises. Also back premises. That he can “purge” (.8) probably has to do with the pub’s privy’s being there, where, having drunk too much, he can throw up. 422.8: “his contempt:” contraction of “to his heart’s content” 422.8: “dejeunerate:” rejuvenate, degenerate – either revive his youth or the opposite. Equal-opposites 422.8: “dejeunerate into a skillyton be thinking himself to death:” compare next entry. Pointy head goes with skeletal body, in both cases the result of thinking too much. Endomorphic Shaun has heard quite enough about his ectomorphic brother. 422.9: “thinking himself to death:” as McHugh notes, Shem’s “dalickey cyphalos” (.7) makes him a dolichocephalic, that is, long-headed, that is, one of the brainy sort, as opposed to the (“brach” (.9)), brachycephalic, broad-headed Shaun, dim but solid. Such pointy-headed types, by Shaun’s reckoning, are prone to hyper-cerebral over-thinking. Clearly, the reference to his “cerebrated brother” (421.19) still stings. Whether he believed in it or not, Joyce’s work often entertains such phrenological conceits: the “misshapen gibbosity” (“Oxen of the Sun”) of Punch Costello’s head, Corley’s “globular head” (“Two Gallants”), Mulligan’s “equine” head (“Telemachus”). For another FW occurrence, see 162.22-3 and note. Joyce himself was definitely dolichocephalic, also skinny. 422.9: “Flannelfeet:” flannel was often recommended for invalids. At 578.8-9 the male principal will be described as wearing two pairs of socks against the night cold. 422.11: “Homo!:” as in Ecce Homo, the subject of one of Joyce’s first essays. “Homo” in that case is Jesus, but the context here indicates that the pejorative term for homosexual – according to OED in circulation since 1923, and (again) predominantly American - is paramount. 422.11: “Then putting his bedfellow on me!:” given previous entry, McHugh’s gloss of “penis” seems right, but the common expression that something (often but not always politics) “makes for strange bedfellows” is probably pertinent as well. The twins are sometimes (168.10, 562.16-563.36) represented as sharing the same bed - once a common practice, in Ireland and elsewhere, but see preceding entry for another twist. 422.12: “The criniman!:” hairy man. (See McHugh.) As in Jacob’s “My brother Esau [who will appear at .22] is a hairy man.” Also compare 425.34. 422.12: “I’ll give it to him for that!:” 1. I’ll punch him out for that; 2. I have to give him credit for that. Equal opposites 422.12-3: “Making the lobbard change hisstops:” a lubbard or lubber (the latter spelling appears in “Scylla and Charybdis”) is a clumsy, thickwitted person – note that at .16-7 he is “blundering.” Considering that, “change hisstops” is a probable overtone of “watch his steps.” Also, a real long shot, this: there is such a species as the “lubber grasshopper,” so named because it is large and its movements comparatively sluggish. Echo of “his hops” in “hisstops?” Probably not – again, a long shot. 422.13-4: “Is he on whosekeeping or are my!:” Is he, or am I, in his, or my, or whose, keeping? That is, which brother, if any, is the keeper of the other, if either is? 422.14: “posthumust:” again: James Joyce was the second-born son, between two Johns (Stanislaus’s baptismal name was John Stanislaus), but the first died shortly after birth, giving James, posthumously, the advantages of primogeniture. See second entry for .15. 422.15: “unique hornbook:” a unicorn book – a singular, if not freakish, literary production – in this case, Ulysses 422.15: “prince of the apauper’s pride:” in Twain’s novel The Prince and the Pauper, prince and the pauper are look-alikes, which allows them to change places – a voluntary usurpation of birthright prerogative. See note to .14. 422.16: “over the two worlds!:” compare entry for “twicycled” at 416.30. 422.16-18: “If he waits till I buy him a mosselman’s present! He’s nos halfcousin of mine, pigdish!...Aham!:” a Mussulman would automatically reject a “pigdish,” for instance one including (“Aham!”) ham. “Pigdish” also echoes “pigdog,” a gross insult appearing in “Circe.” 422.18: “Aham!:” Aham! Compare 419.19-20: “not mentioningahem.” Again: the very thought of him is offensive to me. Also, he is a ham. OED’s first listing for “ham” in theatrical sense is 1933, but Google Books has examples dating from the late 19th century. 422.19-22: “- May we…how?” This is odd. A few pages after the fable of the Ondt and the Gracehoper, they request an “esiop’s foible,” which they just heard. Shaun’s reaction will be defensive in the extreme. Gist, I think: although Shaun has just recited it, the original author was his brother. In fact some of the recital, especially 418.10-419.8, pretty clearly reflected Shem’s point of view. Again, the question of Shaun’s literacy – whether he can write, or even read – has a way of setting him off: compare 421.16-9 and note, 421.32 and note. His reaction to this polite request to “unravel” his own original fable “with words of style” will amount to a sputtering, changing-the-subject failure to follow through. (Again (see note to 421.22) no genie.) For the overall performance, compare Chico Marx in Duck Soup, when Harpo starts ripping up a book: “He gets angry because he can’t read.” 422.20: “prentis pride:” overtone of proud parent 422.22: “esiop’s:” along with Aesop and Ethiop (see McHugh), Esau. Also, Joyce’s Shem, combining Shem and Ham, is sometimes identified with dark-skinned races. Compare Romeo and Juliet: “an Ethiope’s ear.” 422.23ff: ”Well…:” from here up to about 423.20, Shaun’s account of the genesis of FW’s letter is mainly obstetric: ALP brought it forth with the pangs and cries of childbirth; Shem copied it all down and made a botch of it; it will take Shaun to make it presentable and deliverable. Recalls accounts of the Delphic Oracle – Pythia, priestly transcribers – and, more generally, of art as “conception:” compare Mulligan in “Scylla and Charybdis,” saying he has “conceived a play for the mummers.” 422.24-26: “as his hunger got the bitter of him, a hearty bite out of the honeycomb of his Braham and Melosedible hat:” as a response to the request for “your own sweet way with words” (.20-1). A sweet taste to counteract the bitterness Shaun is feeling about his brother’s claim to authorship. “Hunger” is also anger (Bloom in “Lestrygonians:” “Hungry man is an angry man”), which is why he takes a “hearty bite” - aggression combining with appetite. As Joyce would have known, a bitter taste in the mouth can symptomize extreme hunger; Shaun has just said he’s willing to “famish” himself (.18). The common expression, that if some unlikely event actually happens, I’ll eat my hat, may be in play, in which case a honey-flavored, “-edible” hat would be the right kind to have. 422.25-29: “honeycomb…Melosedible…honorey….bees:” melos is Latin for honey; “honey” is imbedded in “honorey;” bees make honey. Shaun is bearishly ravenous for honey. 422.26: “Melosedible:” almost edible. Again, he’s extremely hungry – hungry enough to eat anything close to eatable (including his hat). 422.26: “tryone, tryon and triune:” compare “Oxen of the Sun” – “try it on” – and 179.33 – “ladies tryon hosiery.” A sales pitch, probably by a hat salesman. Try one, try all! “Triune” adds a Dowie-like strain of religious hucksterism. 422.26-27: “Ann wunkum:” a repeat of “and welcome” (.23-4), mumbly muffled because his mouth is full. (Compare p. 456.) Followed by a similarly garbled “thunkum” (.27). 422.26-8: “Ann wunkum…agum:” here and intermittently after, a spell of baby-talk, probably as a sarcastic imitation of his audience’s presumed ignorance. “Agum” because babies are usually born without teeth. Also, see previous entry. 422.28: “thelemontary channels:” the alimentary canal (McHugh) begins at the mouth and ends at the anus. Shaun is both singer and eater. 422.29: “bees:” makers of the “honeycomb” (.25) out of which he has just taken a bite, to counteract the bitter taste left by mention of his brother 422.30: “bunkum:” American term for oratorical rubbish; named by H. L. Mencken after Buncombe County, North Carolina, whose Congressional Representative predictably supplied examples 422.30: “trifulgurayous pillar:” see McHugh. Pillar of fire 422.31-2: “Old Knoll:” compare 3.22: “the knock out in the park.” A knock is a knoll. Another return to the park scandal, with the two girls (“liliens” (.32)) and the three soldiers, “mem and hem and the jaquejack” (.33-4). Shaun goes on to accuse Shem of writing and spreading the story of the father’s – Old Knoll’s – sin. 422.32: “liliens of the veldt:” lions (“liliens”) of the African veldt 422.33-4: “jaquejack…righting his name for him:” compare “Joe John” (215.28). Jacques is the French version of James; Jack is the informal version of John. One brother once taught the other how to write his name. The language is ambiguous, but probably it was Shem teaching Shaun. Also, jacquerie: mob of French peasants who revolted in 14th century – here recalling popular uproar of I.2 and I.3 over the incident in the park 422.35: “litterery bed:” what Ulysses calls a “childbed,” for bearing a “litter” of children (as well as the “litter”/letter, as literature). 422.36: “priors:” given context, pliers: obstetric forceps. In labor for two days, she wants – is calling out for, and who can blame her? – a forceps delivery. 422.36-423.1: “bawling out to her jameymock farceson in Shemish:” James Macpherson claimed to be not the author but the transcriber of Ossian. “Shemish” language – Semitic languages are named for Shem, supposed to have been their originator – here shared by son and mother in extremis, is presumably primitive and semi-inchoate, incomprehensible to others, including Shaun. 423.1-2: “like a mouther of the incas:” see McHugh. The mother of Garcilaso de la Vega was an Inca; his Comentarios, derived from native sources, may be said to have given the Incas a (Spanish) voice, or mouth. Here, like (supposedly) Macpherson, he transcribes indigenous languages for the benefit of later, colonial readers. Sounding of “ink” in “Incas” is another dig at Shem’s obnoxious literacy. 423.2: “Ananymus:” as Anonymous (compare 47.19), another author 423.2: “Ananymus pinched her tights:” compare the midwife Mrs Thornton in “Circe,” as Bloom is giving birth: “Embrace me tight, dear. You’ll soon be over it.” 423.4-5: “tse tse…backlack:” Tsch tsch – sound of disapproval. Compare “Lestrygonians:” “His tongue clacked in compassion. Dth! Dth!” Given the high concentration of authors in the vicinity, probably T. S. Eliot – T. S. E. - as well. 423.5: “cribibber:” besides (McHugh) crybaby, a bibulous bibber. Taken together, a maudlin drunk 423.7-8: “his sixth finger between his catseye and the index:” the “sixth finger” is probably Shem’s pen, seen as freakish by someone hostile to the whole business of writing. A “catseye” is a marble, which would be cradled between “index” finger and thumb. The most famous six-fingered person (almost certainly a latter-day urban legend) was supposedly Anne Boleyn, but I can’t see how she would figure in. (Still, see next item.) “Sixdigitarian” appears at 362.1. 423.8: “pillgrimace:” 14th century “Pilgrimage of Grace” against Henry VIII’s change of religion. Also, the writer, in this case modeled after Byron, is grimacing while composing. 423.8: “Childe Horrid:” horrid child, squalling away 423.9: “ganderpan:” if writers can use a goosequill pen, why not a gander-pen? Compare 424.36-425.1 and note. 423.10: “hicks hyssop! Hock! Ickick:” two variants of “Heil Hitler!” (At .18 we get “Digteter!” – dictator: at .34, Hitler, at 424.9-10, Stalin.) Also, hyssop is traditionally used for baptism, ritual purifications, and abortions. 423.10: “Ickick gav him that toock, imitator!:” I gave him that too, the imitator! Accusation of “stolentelling” (424.35) 423.11: “theck:” includes “hec” – HCE. Compare 332.3: “hec” and “alpy.” 423.11: “Does he drink:” Shem is often presented as a thinker who drinks. 423.12: “Kates and Nells:” proverbial names for flirtatious young women 423.13: “thank the Bench:” see McHugh: King’s Bench. Compare “if it please the court.” 423.15: “Shem Skrivenitch:” as in “scrivener” – again, oralist’s hostility against writer. Also, he itches, perhaps (like Stephen Dedalus) from lice, perhaps from (“europicolas” (.35)) erypselias. 423.15-6: “cutting my prhose to please his phrase:” cutting my clothes to fit his cloth: sacrificing principle for expediency. Given the tailoring context, “prhose” includes “hose” – an old term for pants. 423.16: “bogorrer:” as (McHugh) “begorah!,” reliably a stage-Irish signifier, as such part of Shaun’s not-Shem act; compare, for instance, 424.4-5 and note. 423.17: “jawache:” again – Shem is the writer, Shaun is the talker, so much so that his jaws are getting tired. Talker’s counterpart of writer’s cramp 423.17-8: “he’d begin his beogrefright in muddyass ribalds:” as McHugh says, in media res: like many epics, notably Paradise Lost, FW begins that way. 423.19: “eggschicker:” egg-sucker. See 407.17 and note. Also, shikhur: Yiddish for drunkard, which Shem sometimes is. Perhaps also an amalgam of egg and chicken, whichever came first 423.20: “switchedupes:” Russian for knothole, Polish for arse; “arsehole” seems to be the upshot. 423.21: “ante mortem:” as aunt(y) death, the opposite of Anna Livia 423.22-3: “barnacled up to the eyes when he repented after seven:” as McHugh notes, “barnacles” is slang for eyeglasses. In Portrait, Stephen at the age of seven is already wearing glasses. Boys wearing glasses were reliable targets for playground abuse. 423.23: “The alum that winters on his top:” compounds of alum were or are used to whiten bread, skin, teeth, etc. “Winters” here implies whitening by snowfall, figuratively or otherwise. Having been “grey at three” (.21), his hair is already turning white. 423.23-4: “alum…staun:” elm and stone, frequent FW versions of Shem and Shaun 423.25: “hag of the coombe…lock:” the Coombe was frequented by prostitutes; the Lock Hospital treated venereal disease. 423.25-7: “He was down with the whooping laugh…the whopping first time he prediseased me:” before the vaccine, whooping cough (pertussis) was a predictable affliction of childhood. (In “Hades,” Bloom is grateful that his daughter never got it.) It could be fatal and was highly contagious. It would not have been unusual for one sibling to infect, pre-disease, the other. Joyce preceded his younger brother John Stanislaus, was preceded by his deceased brother John. The Ondt and Gracehoper fable under dispute commenced with a 100-letter word of hacking coughing, including “-coffin-“ and “-tussem-“ (414.19-20). 423.28: “tanbark:” that is, brownish, dark. Tanbark is used in tanneries and over time darkens the skin of those who work with it. Again, Shem is often associated with the darker races, as at line 33. (Also (“-bark”), he is the tree to Shaun’s stone: see .23-4 and note.) See next entry. 423.28: “town to his vegetable soul:” having started at his “top” (.24), this completes the survey, down to the (“soul”) sole of his foot. “Vegetable soul” probably encompasses ideas of evolutionary animism, both Erasmus and Charles Darwin. (It is also a theological term – vegetable as opposed to animal or spiritual soul.) Also, the meat-eater Shaun sometimes suspects Shem of being a (“virgitarian” (171.3)) vegetarian. 423.28-9: “falls feet:” overtone of false teeth. The Joyce of the FW years had them; so does HCE. 423.28-9: “forbidden tomate and was warmed off the ricecourse of marrimoney:” a reference to eugenics laws, which were often racially targeted. Couples deemed unfit were forbidden to (“tomate”) to mate or marry, sometimes neutered against their will. “Rice-” because of rice thrown at weddings. Also, of course, a recipe of “warmed” rice and tomatoes. Why “forbidden?” The tomato, a fruit, has often been called a “love apple,” presumably because it is heart-shaped and supposed to be an aphrodisiac. Forbidding him access to tomatoes would make sense if you didn’t want him to marry, let alone reproduce. Also, “forbidden” as plausible alternative to the forbidden fruit of Genesis, which is never specified to be an apple. 423.29: “ricecourse of marrimoney:” recourse to matrimony – in the spirit of Paul’s “It is better to marry than burn” 423.30: “marrimoney:” compare Smollett’s The Expedition of Humphrey Clinker: “holy bands of mattermoney.” 423.31: “Helpless Corpses Enactment:” again (see .28-9 and note), a eugenics law forbidding the hopelessly unfit to reproduce. See next entry. 423.33: “negertoe:” “Eeny, meeny, miny, mo, Catch a nigger by the toe.” Compare notes to .28-9, .31, .34, and first entry for .36. Eugenics laws, in America, Germany, and elsewhere, targeted certain groups deemed genetically inferior. 423.34: “pusched:” Hitler’s beerhall putsch. Allusions to Hitlerism, anti-Semitism (as with the “jewses” of .36), and racial prejudice in general are dense in this passage. 423.35: “Miss Garterd:” “Miss Gertrude” would have conveyed squeamish spinsterhood. Possible overtones of “Misguided” and, as in the popular farce Getting Gertie’s Garter, garter. 423.36: “jewses:” again: Shem was the founder of the Semitic races. Compare first entry for .3. 423.36: “Bro…and Fran:” (religious) Brothers and Friars 424.2-3: “wanted to put his bilingual head intentionally through the Ikish Tames:” traditionally unionist, the Irish Times has apparently never – and definitely not in Joyce’s time – been bilingual. Overtone of (“Tames”) Thames, not Liffey, reinforces. Also, he wanted to drown himself, head-first, in the Thames. 424.2: “bilingual:” Joyce’s command of languages went considerably beyond the “bi-” stage. Still, Ireland was/is officially bilingual: see preceding, 421.27 and note. 424.3: “Ikish:” as with the “Ikey” of “Calypso,” a mild anti-Semitic slur. Again, Shem is traditionally the founder of the Jewish race. 424.3: “Ikish Tames:” the Liffey is the Irish Thames. See note to 426.4-5. The young, pre-emigration Joyce did some writing for Dublin papers. 424.3: “clericy:” clerisy – a nation’s intelligentsia, generally considered as a force for traditional, conservative values 424.3-4: “demonican skyterrier:” demonical sky pilot. “Sky pilot” – priest - appears in this sense in “Cyclops.” Also, because of their leading role in the Inquisition, Dominicans were sometimes called “Domini Canis,” the hounds of God – hence the “terrier” in “skyterrier.” Terriers are hunters. 424.4-5: “Hooley Fermers!:” to me, sounds like an exaggerated, stretched-out Irish accent. 424.5: “avowdeed:” “avow”ed to be (“deed”) dead 425.6: “I squeaked by twyst I’ll:” 1-2-3: 1 (“I”), 2 (“twyst” – twice), 3 (“I’ll:” III) 424.6: “squeaked by:” just barely succeeded or survived 424.7: “Cecilia’s treat on his solo:” Saint Cecilia is patroness of musicians. This combines the young Joyce’s medical studies (see McHugh) with his singing (“solo”) performances. 424.7-8: “Inkupot!:” Ichabod – Old Testament figure; name translates as “The Glory has departed from Israel.” 424.8: “He has encaust in the blood:” expression for a dedicated newsman: he has ink in his blood. See McHugh on “encaust”/encaustum, and compare “Inkupot!” (.7-8). Also, of course, caustic, as in caustic wit. May apply to painting, as well 424.9: “Conshy!:” as a British subject who sat out WW I in Switzerland, Joyce was a conshy. 424.9-10: “Tiberia is waiting on you, arestocrank! Chaka:” after Hitler (previous page) Stalin: alludes to Stalin’s (“arest-“) arresting and exiling of opponents, especially aristocratic ones, to Siberia; see next entry. A “crank” is a conspicuous – perhaps crazy – nonconformist. Also, feminized “Tiberia,” perhaps because Tiberius (see McHugh) was rumored to be a homosexual/pederast 424.10: “Chaka a seagull ticket:” take a single (one-way) ticket, both as a theatre-goer (for Chekhov’s The Seagull) and on one of Stalin’s one-way train trips to Siberia. As McHugh notes, Cheka (“Chaka”) was the Soviet secret police. Compare “hogpew and cheekas” (442.35), OGPU and Cheka. Best and worst of Russia, side by side 424.11: “leave your libber to TCD:” the liver of such a chronic drunkard – Shem, Joyce himself - would be of interest to medical science, for instance as studied at Trinity College. Ironic take on idea that the brains of geniuses – Einstein’s became proverbial – should be studied in schools of medicine 424.12: “Your puddin is cooked! You’re served, cram ye!:” expression: Your goose is cooked. Paté was made by the now-illegal practice of “cram”ming a goose to fatten its (“libber” (.11)) liver, so it could be “served.” 424.12: “You’re served, cram ye!:” compressed version of “serves him damn well right.” Also, perhaps “served” in legal sense of “You have now been served with a subpoena.” 424.13: “Ex. Ex. Ex. Ex.:” although, as McHugh notes, this recalls the end of FW’s letter, as best I can tell the foregoing has included none of the letter’s usual items. In any case, Shaun is wishfully asserting that his brother is either gone for good (an exile, gone “o’er the sea” (.11)), or dead, as in Monty Python’s “This is an ex-parrot!” 424.14-6: “But for what, thrice truthful teller, Shaun of grace?:” but why are you excommunicating your brother and consigning him to hell? After all, your religion teaches “grace,” the forgiveness of sins. The “of grace” sets up the “Shaun O’” of .24-5, emphasizing Shaun’s Irishness. 424.15-6: “Vouchsafe to say. You will now, goodness, won’t you? Why?:” confusing, because the Ondt and Gracehoper “esiop’s foible” (422.22) was originally presented as Shaun’s production, but beginning with 422.19-22 the questioner has been talking as if it had been Shem’s, and Shaun’s defensiveness seems to confirm. Here, the questioner is pressing him to follow through with his own performance, not the bluster of the last two pages. Once again, the response, dodging the issue, will be a spell of overdone indignation. 424.16: “goodness:” both an address (Shaun is goodness) and imprecation (Goodness!) 424.17-9: “- For his root language, if you ask me whys, Shaun replied, as he blessed himself devotionally like a crawsbomb, making act of oblivion, footinmouther!:” at points in this sentence, quotation changes to narrative and back to quotation. (Joyce’s aversion to quotation marks can cause confusion, for instance the “I paid the rent” of “Telemachus,” once assumed to be Stephen’s testimony but now generally taken as his memory of Mulligan’s.) I suggest that “footinmouther” resumes Shaun’s quoted language, although a case might be made for the change beginning at “making.” 424.17: “- For his root language:” again, Shem was traditionally the originator, the root, of the Semitic languages. Joyce himself, like the philologists of his time, was fascinated with the etymology of words. 428.18: “blessed himself devotionally like a crawsbomb:” by making the sign of the cross/crossbow. Both are cruciform. Weaponized Christianity, augmented by “-bomb” 428.19-20: “thickens…picksticked:” Dickens…Pickwick 424.20: “picksticked:” pick stick: several meanings, but the commonest is the device used by grocers (hence, maybe, the green-grocer item lettuce in “lettruce” (.20)) to pick up out-of-reach items from their shelves. Compare next entry. (McHugh’s relocation of “footinmouther…invrention” from .19-20 to .17, following “why,” would make it clearer that this “invrention” is Shem’s latest, as usual resented by his brother.) Also, pigstick, pigsticker. (Once again, absence of quotation marks can blur the identity of the speaker: it may be Shem’s invention, but Shaun would be the pigsticker. There are many similar cases in this sequence - where Shaun is apparently imitating or channeling or just sounding like his brother.) 424.20: “lettruce invrention:” latest invention. Also, see previous entry: as a matter of fact, the U.S. Patent Office from during FW’s time has at least one patent for an improved pick stick. 424.20-2: “ullhud…rockar:” an example of “root language” (.17) in Viconian terms: not only a thunderword but the thunderword, delivered by Thor himself: “Thor’s for yo!” (.22). The components are entirely or almost entirely Scandinavian. 424.23-4: “The hundredlettered name again, last word of perfect language:” actually, no: 101 letters. It is, however, the last of FW’s ten thunderwords, making for 1001 letters in all. (It is completely typical of Joyce that the only FW thunderword which does not consist of 100 letters should be identified as the one that does.) “Perfect language” because among other things it was the sound of “Thor’s” (.22) thunder, and according to Vico language began as an imitation of thunder. 424.23-4: “Shaun O’:” Abbreviated, and more familiar, version of “Shaun of grace” (.14), in turn perhaps something like “Shaun O’Grace,” echoing “Deo Gratia;” compare 409.26: “day o’ gratises.” The extra O goes with the stage-Irish routine. (Digression: in “Penelope,” Molly speculates that Stephen’s (decidedly non-Irish) last name may derive from the Spanish “Delagracia” (compare: “de Valera”) and she may be on to something.) 424.26: “Peax! Peax!:” Peace! Peace! An exasperated equivalent of “Enough already!” – compare Lynch’s “Dona Nobis Pacem” in “Circe,” in response to Stephen’s drunken maunderings. Also, two “pea”s – a recall of the two-peas-in-a-pod inquiry of I.1’s Prankquean episode. To repeat, I think this traces to the Sicilian Vespers: see 21.18-9 and note. Giving the right answer (“ciceri,” chickpeas) with the right pronunciation guaranteed peace, or at least headed off hostilities. 424.26: “penultimatum:” as McHugh notes, this begins Shaun’s penultimate – thirteen out of fourteen – replies in this chapter, and there are fourteen stations of the cross. See note to 403.1-4. 424.27-8: “swigged a slug of Jon Jacobsen from his treestem sucker cane. Mildbut likesome!:” 1. Toulouse Lautrec famously carried a hollow cane from which he drank - sucked - alcohol. Hence “sucker cane.” 2. Your annotator is a horticultural ignoramus, but a browse through Google Books shows that a sucker cane is a vegetative outgrowth or “runner” from some plant, bush, or tree. (Hence “treestem” – trunk - "sucker.”) An example, from “Strawberries,” p. 58 of Philip McMillan Browse: Heligan, Fruit, Flower and Herbs: “The cultivation and management of the raspberry crop is based on the particular growth cycle of the plant. This depends on the fact that a sucker cane develops from a stem bud produced on a root during the early spring.” 3. Glasheen says that in drinking John Jameson from a “treestem sucker cane” Shaun is drinking the blood of his brother, Tristram-Cain. 4. Also, of course, sugar cane – more of Shaun’s craving for sweets, for instance honey. “Mildbut likesome” presumably signals approval of the taste. 424.28-9: “I might as well be talking to the four waves till tibbes grey eves:” for all my chances of getting through to you, I might as well orate to the sea – or, for that matter, (“the seven senses” (.30)), all seven of the seas. Also, Tabitha/Tabby/Tib is the resident cat. Given its proverbial nine lives, waiting for its (“grey eves”) graves all to be filled would take a very long time. 424.30: “No one in his seven senses:” expression: no one in his senses. Also, the seven senses: along with the first five, vestibular (balance, which he loses at 426.28-9) and proprioceptive. 424.30-1: “could as I have said before:” one of several places in FW where a comma, in this case after “could,” would have made things clearer. Shaun is responding to his interrogator’s “But you could come near it…?” (.24-5). His answer is: No, I couldn’t, because “No one in his seven senses could [,] as I have said before.” 424.31: “you missed my drift:” again: Shaun is a barrel, floating – drifting – on the water. 424.32-4: “Every dimmed letter in it is a copy and not a few of the silbils and wholly words I can show you in my Kingdom of Heaven:” Neoplatonically/religiously, Shaun is in the presence of The Word(s), coming from Heaven; the others are pathetic second-comers. Its letters are “dimmed” copies, as for copies from, for instance, a mimeograph machine becoming fainter – dimmer – with each new batch; derivatives of the essential original become progressively weaker and more compromised the farther they are from the source. Even the individual words aren’t (“wholly”) whole. Also, Joyce’s critics sometimes accused him of “stolentelling” (.35) – from, for instance, Dujardin, or Dickens’ Mr Jingle. 424.32-3: “letter…silbils…wholly words:” letters, syllables, whole words: no matter how you divide it up, all he’s got is scattery fragments of the original. 424.33: “silbils:” Sybils – women voices of divine prophecy. Goes with “wholly (holy) words.” 424.34: “With his threestar monothone!:” for the nonce, this identifies Shem with Patrick, using the shamrock to demonstrate monotheism. (Compare “Shemlockup” (180.6).) Establishment religious figure condemning the source of the faith of his (Irish) fathers: compare the “Grand Inquisitor” in The Brothers Karamazov. 424.35: “Thaw!:” counterpoints “Frost!” of .30 424.35: “and what’s more:” I suggest a comma-like pause after “more.” 424.36: “lowbrown:” lowbrow – not the first word that comes to mind for Joyce’s writings, but here paired with (“robblemint” (.36)) rabblement. 424.36: “robblemint:” again, the accusation of (“rob-“ steal) “stolentelling.” “Mint” may add forgery to the indictment. 424.36-425.1: “As he was rising my lather. Like you. And as I was plucking his goosybone:” a circle jerk 425.1: “plucking his goosybone:” pulling his leg. Also, Brewer: “The old woman plucking her goose” is “children’s talk for “It is snowing.” (But, again, see previous entry. To be “rising a lather” in someone (424.36-425.1) is to be getting them into an excited state. Also, visualize the raising of a ladder, from horizontal to vertical. According to the testimony of Christopher Hitchens, mutual masturbation in England’s public schools was the commonest version of what Portrait calls “smugging.” Other FW testimony, for instance (563.24) “Jerkoff and Eatsup,” is along the same line.) Also, goose quills were once used for writing. 425.2: “He store the tale of me shur:” He stole the tale [the Ondt and Grasshopper] from me, sure. Terminal “shur” / “sure” is an Irishism similar to the American “you bet.” 425.2-3: “me shur…Shemese?:” as McHugh says, my shirt, the chemise. Shaun and Shem are respectively top and bottom halves of the (father’s) body – shirt and pants. 425.2-3: “How’s that for Shemese?:” see note to .2. 1. Stealing my work is just what you’d expect from the likes of him. 2. That sentence, with its idiomatic “shur,” was my imitation of Shem’s low-class talk. 425.3-8: “Still…doing it:” gist: you could surely write as well as your brother if you put your heart into it, especially (like Joyce himself) by revising and revising again. (Another distinction between talker and writer) 425.4: “not to flatter you, we fancy you:” to “fancy” someone is to find them attractive. They are flattering him. 425.5: “brainy:” again: saying they do not intend to “flatter” him (.4), they are doing just that, by now aware that Shaun is still fuming about that word “cerebrated” (421.19) being applied to his brother, not himself. 425.5: “letterread in yourshelves:” leaves open whether Shaun has actually read all the books on his “-shelves,” thereby being well-read, or whether they’re just for show. Also, a post office, with shelves for letters 425.5-6: “letterread…Shamous Shamonous, Limited:” the latter sounds like a firm’s imposing (“letterread”) letterhead. (Still, “Limited” takes it down a peg.) 425.5: “use worse of yourself:” use words, by yourself 425.6: “the Shamous Shamonous:” the famously shameless Shem 425.8: "Upu now!:" Upu is Samoan for word. The speaker, having just reassured Shaun that he "could use worse" (.6), use words, as well as his brother the writer, is encouraging him to come up with an example: A word, now! (All following identifications of Samoan words in III.1 are from Ian MacArthur, "Samoan in Finnegans Wake," Issue 20 of Genetic Joyce Studies.) 425.9-10: “the muttermelk of his blood donor beginning to work:” following Glasheen, I take this as saying that the transfusion of his brother’s blood is beginning to have an effect. A blood oath, enacted when two men cut their fingers or wrists and join their wounds together – best-known example is in Wagner’s Götterdammerüng. (See 325.26, with McHugh’s note.) Shem-like notes will, accordingly, be intermittently breaking through, notably at .14. Also, concurrent with the fact that, in the case of real brothers, both their bloodstreams originate from the mother. Connected with this, on the mother-blood level, is that Shaun the barrel is starting to leak, as a result of a damaging scrape, apparently against rocks along the river’s bank, sounded by the 101-letter word of 414.19-20; the Liffey water – ALP/mother’s water - is beginning to mingle with the barrel’s contents. Also, perhaps most obviously, the swig of John Jameson (424.27-8) – mother’s milk to the habituated - is starting to take effect. This may help account for what seems to me to be Shaun’s heightened level of expansive self-confidence, his (“allergrossest transfusiasm” (.15)), all-greatest enthusiasm, in the following lines. 425.11: “disseminating the foul emanation:” echo of “foul intimation” a fairly common phrase at the time: he denies spreading ugly rumors, the charge routinely leveled against Shem. Literally, either of the liquids seeping into or out of the barrel – see preceding note - could be called an emanation. As for “foul:” the overtone of “semen” goes with the circle-jerkery (see 424.36-425.1 and note) and, as a case of “blood donor”ship (.10 – and, again, see previous entry), may recall that bloodlines are really (half) transmitted through semen. 425.12: “sole:” both sir and solo, as in “by myself.” Also, Samoan for friend: Shaun is being addressed both respectfully (sir) and familiarly (friend). 425.12: “so you can keep your space:” response to “if only you would take your time” (.8-9). Shem is the time half, Shaun the space. 425.12-3: “power of blurry words:” words of power: magical incantations in Egyptian religion. (Joyce probably got the phrase from E.A. Wallis Budge.) Compare 98.26. For “blurry words,” compare “blurry works” of 14.4. Also, Shaun’s speech is getting blurry as the drink goes to his head. 425.14: “(bet ye fippence...”): Shem language, earlier appearing at 265. L 1. Perhaps a further sign that his self-control is loosening. See note to .15, below. 425.14: “boot allowance:” regular payments to postmen (and some other municipal employees) to defray the frequent purchase of new boots required for their job 425.15: “soroquise:” if “ventriloquize” as well as “soliloquize,” this would help explain the Shem interjection of .14 – he has just demonstrated that he can do Shem’s voice as well as his own. 425.17-8: “how I am extremely ingenuous at the clerking even with my badily left and, arrah go braz, I’d pinsel it with immenuensoes:” I can write (like a clerk, or a gang of amanuenses), with a pencil, as well as I can talk – even with my left hand, even if it was in bad shape. (Compare “with my hand tied behind my back.”) Shaun and Shem are, respectively, right-handed and left-handed, dexter and sinister. 425.17: “ingenuous:” Shaun is (soi-disant: see, e.g., .31) ingenuous, Shem ingenious. 425.19: “perorate:” Latin perorare – to speak at length 425.19-20: “I’d perorate a chickerow of beans for the price of two maricles:” sounds to me as if it incorporates two Hail Mary’s being said on a rosary, with the beads as beans 425.19: “perorate a chickerow of beans:” another reference to the word-pronunciation test practiced during the Sicilian Vespers: again, if you couldn’t say “ciceri” (chickpeas) like a native, you were killed. Compare 21.18-9, 87.24, 267.20-1, 354.1, and 456.8, with notes. Also, chickpeas are beans, grown in rows. (In “Eumaeus,” Stephen translates “Cicero” into “Podmore,” by way of the peas-in-a-pod formula prominent in the Pranquean episode of I.1.) Also, “row of beans,” like “hill of beans,” signifies something of little or no value. 425.19-20: “two maricles:” proof of at least two miracles – in this case perhaps involving the intervention of the Virgin Mary - is required for sainthood. 425.19-20: “two…trifolium:” two…three:” again, a twin signature 425.20: “my trifolium librotto:” given the context, it’s pertinent here that Saint Patrick, of the shamrock and Triple Life, is supposed to have introduced writing – folios - to Ireland. Shaun continues to brag about (but never demonstrate) his capacity as a writer. (“Librotto” – see McHugh – can be both something one reads and something one sings.) He is also claiming that, when it comes to Patrick’s shamrock act he could do a better job of it than his brother, with his “bolshy of a shame” (.22). 425.20: “trifolium:” three folios. Goes with (“librotto” (.20)) book. Also, trifloglío is Italian for shamrock. 425.21: “if given to daylight:” compare 123.34-6. Conventionally, anyway, many invisible inks become visible when held up to bright light. Also, (“-folium” (.20)) is Latin for leaf, being held up to the sun – both leafy heliotropism and Patrick’s plucking the shamrock from the ground and holding it up for all to see - the triumphant moment of his victory over the Archdruid at 612.29-36, in FW's sunlit Book IV. Preliminarily, compare 124.20-8: where the trefoil is a lucky "fourleaved" "quadrifoil" pattern, etched in FW's unearthed letter by the pokings of the hen who discovered it. The three or four jabs are responsible for the three or four kisses which always conclude FW's letter. 425.21: “incredible faith:” taken literally, a contradiction in terms 425.23: “Gaoy Fecks:” According to Joyce's notes, gaoy is Samoan for thief. "Fecks" is (McHugh) steals – again, Shem’s “stolentelling." Foxes are known as thieves. 425.23: “in audible black and prink:” as McHugh notes, inaudible – because print, as opposed to Shaun’s medium of sound, is inaudible. Also, an old joke that was fairly new in Joyce’s time: What’s black and white and red (read) all over? A newspaper. 425.23-4: “black and prink:” the “pink ‘un” was The Sporting Times, devoted largely to sports and generally associated with the lower orders; its paper was pink. (“Prink:” pink ink in print.) Also “pink” was a pejorative term for avowedly non-Marxist leftists. (Reiterates “bolshy” charge of .22. OED has the first occurrence of “pinko” in this sense as 1925.) 425.24-5: “I have them all:” referring to (“poetscalds”) postcards and “letters” (.24): as a postman, he is, he claims, a man of letters, including poetry. 425.26: “man dear,:” my dear, spoken in a menacingly sarcastic tone 425.27: “cut my throat with my tongue:” to get into trouble through ill-advised speech. The expression was around since 1912 at least. As speaker not writer, Shaun is the tongue man, not the pen man. 425.28: “introvent it Paatryk:” tradition that Saint Patrick introduced, or invented, written language in Ireland. (In one of his notes, Joyce writes that Columbus “invented America.”) 425.28: “take potlood:” to take potluck = take one’s chances. Possible overtone of loot 425.29: “append:” attend 425.29-30: “append to my mark twang:” he would make his mark, as opposed to signing – another reason to think that he is actually illiterate. “Twang” may presume a southern twang from an American author, Mark Twain. We are being told to listen to it. 425.30: “pucktricker’s:” Puck is a trickster. Again, Shaun is identifying Shem with Patrick, as trickster – that cute business with the shamrock, for instance. In general, the main grievance seems to be (compare .20 and note) that Patrick introduced writing to Ireland. 425.31: “only for:” except that. Paired with “I will” (.27). Compare “Eveline:” “what he would do to her only for her dead mother’s sake.” 425.31: “as a papst and an immature and a nayophight:” see McHugh. Again, Shaun claims, disingenuously, to be the ingenuous one. Given context, “papst” may include “pap” – he’s still at his mother’s breast: see .9-10 and note. 425.31: “nayophight:” Shem is a nay-sayer. 425.31: “papst:” papist 425.32: “a hundred and eleven:” the number of ALP’s gifts in I.5 425.33: “I would never for anything take so much trouble of such doing:” yet another excuse for not coming up with the writing requested. Responds to “if only you would take your time so and the trouble of so doing it” (.7-8); dodges the contentious word “time” 425.34-5: “too fly and hairyman for to infradig:” “Infra-dig,” with or without the dash, was 20’s slang: OED’s first citation of “dig” for “understand” is 1935. “Fly” and “hairy,” meaning wised-up, had both been around for a good while before then: “hairy” in that sense appears in “Cyclops,” set in 1904. I suggest that Shaun is clumsily attempting to show how au courant he is and if anything proving the opposite. 425.35: “for to infradig the like of that ultravirulence:” infrared (McHugh) and ultraviolet – two extremes of the color scale, both normally invisible to human sight. Shaun is boasting about how completely within conventional bounds his field of vision is. Shem’s wild bohemian ways, seeing and broadcasting what should be left unsaid, is prone to (ultra) virulence, both literal (a plague) and figurative (extremism). 425.36: “on earth clouds and in heaven:” “on earth as it is in heaven” 425.36: “piop:” pope. Also, pipe? It would be a regular feature of Shaun the Post’s stage-Irish persona, and at 427.13 he leaves the smell of (“Toboccoo”) tobacco in his wake. In “Circe,” Bloom, performing such an act, shows up with a “clay pipe;” at 237.15-6, an early version of Shaun the Post has a “pampipe in your putaway, gab borah” – the stage-Irish “Geborah!” 426.1: “by the awe of Shaun (and that’s a howl of a name!):” by the “aw” sound in “Shaun,” as opposed to the soft-e sound in “Shem;” also, a singer (soon, a baby) impressively hitting (here, “howl”ing) a low note. Compare Ben Dollard’s “deep note” in “Wandering Rocks:” “Aw!” The overtone of “hell” sets up the flames of book-burning; see next entry. 426.2: “I will commission to the flames any incendiarist:” the irony here recalls the citizen of “Cyclops:” “By Jesus, I’ll crucify him so I will.” 426.3: “ahriman:” (finally) matches “ormuzd” of 425.28 426.4: “set ever annyma roner moother of mine on fire:” expression: to set the Thames (here, the Liffey, as Anna Liffey) on fire: to create a sensation 426.3-4: “annyma roner:” compare 7.25-6: “Anny Ruiny…Anna Rainy:” ALP/Liffey as the “Little Annie Rooney” of the song. At 204.18 she begins her life in “the black pools of rainy;” at 627.11 her daughter will “rain” in her stead. 426.4: “Rock me julie:” “Oh! Rock me Julie:” aside from the words of the title, cited in McHugh, the lyrics in their entirety are “Rock me like a baby.” Shaun’s thoughts of his mother (.4) are infantilizing him. Rocking back and forth in the waves, he feels as if he’s being rocked in a cradle. 426.5: “crickcrackcruck:” the sound of the barrel’s scraping, probably – see note on “mooherhead” (.8) – against river’s edge or some landing construction 426.5: “threelungged squool:” A baby’s ear-splitting – as if out of three lungs, not just two – squally squeal. Also, a “three-lunged arch,” a.k.a. “three-hinged bridge,” is a construction sometimes used for bridges. The obvious example is the Ha’penny Bridge, which is in fact an arched three-hinged bridge, introduced into this chapter at 403.4. (No idea how “squool” fits in there, but Shaun is in/on/over/under the Liffey, so a bridge would seem to belong on the scene.) Compare “brokenarched traveller” of 156.29, which as McHugh notes traces to Macauley’s “broken arch of London Bridge;” at .8 Shaun is “broke down.” 426.6: “from which grief has usupped every smile:” Irish song “Don’t Blame the Mother:” fourth line of the first verse is “Whose grief has usurped every smile.” Perhaps pertinent that its message is Unionist: the English shouldn’t blame Ireland (the mother of the title) just because some of her sons are behaving disloyally. 426.6-7: “big hottempered husky fusky krenfy strenfy pugiliser:” two-year-old language to go with his present state 426.8: “broke down on the mooherhead:” as McHugh says, motherhood - therefore in sync with “Don’t Blame the Mother” (see .6 and note), also “Mother Machree,” from lines .9-10. He broke down in tears at the thought of his mother. The overtone of a cow’s mooing recalls ALP’s origin at 204.17. (So does the calf, at 13.) Compare 230.21-2: “she could have all the g. s. M. she moohooed after.” Also, mooring head – a bollard or cleat for docking; can be either on ship or shore. A rough landing: with the “crickcrackcruck” of .5, Shaun “broke down on the mooherhead.” 426.9: “her:” his mother 426.9-10: “tearsilver that he twined through her hair for sure:” that is, the tears from his eyes, making silver streaks as they fall into the Liffey, evoke (or are) the grey hairs on his mother’s head. 426.11-2: “a heart like Montgomery in his showchest and harvey loads of feeling:” William Harvey demonstrated the circulation of the blood, through the heart; later theorists, some present in FW, adopted his finding to micro/macro-cosmic speculations about the blood, chemically all but identical to sea water, as the body’s milieu intèrieur. 426.13: “freshfallen calef:” newborn calf. Also, the Ottoman Caliphate fell in 1925. Also, as McHugh notes, the “threelungged squool” of .5 was the gallows, a “three-legged stool.” The “innocent” (.12) condemned has just fallen through the drop. 426.14: “laughed it off:” lapped it up 426.14: “pudgies:” given the context, cheeks 426.15…17: “gulp…gulpa:” two gulps, accompanying the crying 426.15-6: “healing his tare be the smeyle of his oye:” with heavy stage-Irish accent: healing his tear by the smile of his eye 426.16: “oogling:” having wiped away the tears, he is ogling with (“oo“) both eyes 426.16-23: “Him…gulpa:” as usual (“Circe,” elsewhere in FW), by way of theories of “Mongolism” (see note accompanying 28.2-4), Chinese pidgin (“pigeon” (.16)) English goes with infantile emotionalism. The speaker is imitating/enacting Shaun’s behavior. See next entry. 426.17: “Fu Li’s” pretend Chinese name. (Anglicized, “Lee” is the Chinese “Smith.”) 426.17-21: “Mind you…ocean’s:” gist: (“orthough”) although, with mouth gaping open, he looked like someone falling asleep, (“Moe like that”) more likely he was transfixed, staring up at the stars. 426.18: “dumpest of earnest orthough:” he was, as deeply as possible, earnest in his orthodoxy. Also, to be in “the dumps” is to be depressed. 426.18-9: “orthough him jawr war hoo hleepy hor halk urthing hurther. Moe:” again, the speaker imitates the Shaun, this time as the voice of someone talking while falling asleep. Moe is Samoan for sleep. 426.20: “up up upfrom his tide shackled wrists:” here until 427.8: 1. the focus shifts between or mingles Shaun-as-barrel and Shaun’s reflection, from the bridge, in the Liffey, both reflecting and looking up at the stars. (Alternatively, he is intermittently submerged, sometimes “buoyantly” (.34) but sometimes not, looking up at the stars from underneath the water surface.) 2. He is controlled – tied and shackled, at the wrists, as with handcuffs – by the tide, which is turning and thus reversing his direction. Time and tide wait for no man, and if there can be, as in “Ithaca,” “arms of the sea,” why not wrists too? 426.20-1: “through the ghost of an ocean’s, the wieds:” seaweed. He’s looking up at the sky from under the water. McHugh suggests inserting “upon” after “ocean’s.” 426.21: “heathvens of joepeter’s:” according to the orthodox Shaun, worshipers of Jupiter were heathens. 426.21: “joe peter’s gaseytotum:” Jupiter and Saturn are the Solar System’s two “gas giants.” (Compare Bloom, in “Lestrygonians,” on the cosmos: “Gasballs spinning about.”) And not just the planets: as Brendan O Hehir notes, “gaseytotum” combines Greek Chaos with Latin Totum: celestial bodies in general, congealed out of masses of gas. Also, gasetoto, according to Joyce's notes, is Samoan for eclipse. 426.22-4: “as they are telling not but were and will be, all told, scruting foreback into the fargoneahead to feel out what age in years tropical, ecclesiastic, civic or sidereal he might find:” Oxford editors recommend deleting the comma between “be” and “all.” This strikes your annotator as odd: “all told” sounds as if it should be set off with commas. In any case, the gist: as in the astronomical speculations of “Ithaca,” much of what follows depends on the knowledge that starlight is primeval, that in looking at the stars we are looking at the past, measured in (light) years. At the same time, the (sea)weed (“wieds” (.23)) in the water includes tea-leaves in a cup, so we’re seeing the future, too. 426.23-4: “years tropical, ecclesiastic, civil or sidereal:” four different kinds of calendar, for measuring the years. 1. A tropical (or solar) year is (Wikipedia) the time it takes for “the sun to return to the same position, in the cycle of seasons, as seen from Earth.” 2. The ecclesiastic calendar divides the year according to liturgical seasons and commemorations. 3. “Civic calendar” can have different definitions, but originally it designated a lunar calendar; a year comprised twelve lunations. 4. A sidereal year is (again, Wikipedia) “the time taken by the Earth to orbit the Sun once with respect to the fixed stars.” The sequence here is probably Viconian as well: primitive, sacramental, civic, ending in some kind of grand cosmic shift. 426.24-5: “serious pointstand of Charley’s Wain:” compare 57.1 and note. The outer two stars of this constellation (Charles’s Wain, a.k.a. Big Dipper, etc.) are often called “pointers,” pointing to the North Star. (Not, of course, to (“serious”) Sirius, although it may or may not be pertinent that another set of “pointers,” the three stars of Orion’s belt, have often been taken as pointing toward Sirius.) 426.25: “betune the spheres:” the music of the spheres, in tune 426.26: “mansions of the blest:” Jesus: “In my father’s house there are many mansions.” 426.27: “the dreamskhwindel necklassoed him:” turnings of tide are sometimes accompanied by whirlpools – here, the whirling waters are wreathing Shaun’s neck and will soon send him in the opposite direction. Also, a noose being put around his neck: compare .13 and note, and next entry; at .20 his “wrists” were “shackled.” 426.28: “his thumbs fell into his fists:” contrary to the usual belief, Roman spectators voted against sparing a gladiator’s life by shutting their thumbs into their fists, not by a thumbs-down. 426.28-34: “his thumbs…backwards:” specifically describes his reversal of direction because of the change in tide 426.28: “lusosing the harmonical balance:” he is no longer in harmony with (.25) the music of the spheres. This comes from belief that only the pure of heart could hear, or join in, this music. Since, as McHugh notes, “lusosing” also includes lusus, playing (compare “postlude” and ”playact” (.33)), this is another case of coinciding contraries. 426.28-9: “balance of his ballbearing extremities:” the balls of the feet, on which athletes are told to balance 426.29: “like the holy kettle:” given the starry context, this is probably Sagittarius, whose outline resembles a kettle; in some cultures it goes by that name. 426.31: “(O the sons of the fathers!):” not an exact quotation, but various passages in the Old Testament have produced the popular saying, with variations, that “The sins of the fathers are visited on their sons.” Here, the sense seems to be that Shaun, although not a drunkard himself, has inherited his alcoholic father’s infirmities – that’s why he’s toppling over. Suns are, of course, stars. 426.32: “asterisks betwink:” twinkling stars. Asterisks (***) resemble, and are named for, stars. At .34-5, they will still be “twinkling.” 426.33-5: “postlude…playact [play at]…ensemble…out of farther earshot:” see .28 and note: again, he is less and less in tune with the celestial harmony. 426.34: “rolled buoyantly backwards:” the Liffey is a tidal river, and the tide is turning, starting to send him back downriver. It will still be going out to sea at the end of Book IV, which by the usual calculation (the clock struck midnight at the beginning of this chapter; Book IV (compare next entry) occurs shortly after daybreak; there are, your annotator believes, multiple indications that FW takes place on or around the (vernal) equinox, when day and night are evenly divided), would be about six hours later. After “the” – “riverrun,” it will begin its “recirculation” (3.2) – “you will shiff across the Moylendsea [Irish Sea] and round up in your own escapology” (428.20-2). 426.35: “out of farther earshot:” compare 628.13: “Far calls. Coming, far!” Out of tune with the music, he is also becoming out of hearing range with the sea, as (fatherly) Mananaan MacLir – perhaps because the tide has turned, carrying him further inland. 427.1: “linkman…lampman:” see McHugh: one a torch-bearer, the other a lamp-bearer. Also, a linkboy, in the days before gaslit streets, was paid to light travelers from one place to another - a menial job 427.1-2: “Killesther’s lapes and falls:” Killester, in Dublin (McHugh) is not on the Liffey nor, apparently, adjoining any substantial body of water – no (“lapes”) lakes, no (“falls”) waterfalls. Still, “lapes” probably also includes leaps, as in salmon leaps (and falls). 427.1-10: “Killesther’s…vanesshed…stellas:” Swift’s two Esthers, Vanessa and Stella. Given Joyce’s (at least sometime) opinion of Swift’s behavior in the matter – to Budgen: “the man was a strong and stingy sentimentalist. He meddled with and muddled up two women’s lives” – “Ah! mean!” (.8: see note) may be a comment on the business. 427.2: “corks, staves, and treeleaves:” detritus on the water surface 427.2-3: “more bubbles to his keelrow:” Shaun is both reversing direction and sinking; the bubbles in the wake of his keel track his movement both backward and downward. 427.3-4: “as the town cow cries:” replaces “as the crow flies” with measurement by range of sound rather than by direction in space – as far as the sound of a cow (Moo, presumably) carries. Compare “Circe:” “within the bawl of an ass.” “Town crier” is the template. 427.4-5: “Mac Auliffe’s the crucethouse:” see McHugh: Christ Church Cathedral, like most cathedrals, is cruciform. 427.5: “down in the valley:” as in, peaks and valleys – the barrel is bobbing up and down. 427.6: "(uila!):" according to Joyce's notes, Samoan for lightning 427.7-10: “vanesshed…stellas:” Swift’s Stella and Vanessa 427.7-8: “like a popo down a papa, from circular circulatio:” whirlpool in wake of sinking object – also, vortex circulation of toilet flush: “popo” and “papa” approximate baby-talk for excrement. Compare note to .10-1, second note to .11, first note to .11-2. 427.8: “Ah, mean!:” Oxford editors have “Awe mean!” Besides (McHugh) Amen!, men are the subject, as considered by the feminized interlocutors – the “stellas” thinking, wrongly, that he will be “ours…for a lifetime” (.10, .12-3). Compare note to .1-10, note to .14. 427.9: “Gaogaogaone! Tapaa!:” Go on! Ta-ta! In context, maybe also the sound of drowning. Also, Ian MacArthur, in "Samoan in Finnegans Wake," Genetic Joyce Studies, Issue 20: "Ao" is Samoan for day or cloud; "tapa'a" for tobacco. "Both meanings of 'ao' seem relevant. As day wanes, Shaun departs for Samoa in a cloud of tobacco smoke!" 427.10: “And the stellas were shining:” as what astronomers call the light pollution from Shaun’s lamp dissipates, the stars can be seen shining more brightly. Also, compare next entry. 427.10-11: “the earthnight strewed aromatose:” outdoor (“aroma-“) smells become stronger and more distinct at dusk and thereafter. Bloom muses on this theme in “Nausicaa.” It may have to do with evening dew, with the sense of sight becoming less overbearing, with nightblooming flowers – whatever. At random, here’s a quotation from Ted Browning’s 1991 novel Notes From Turtle Creek: “But the smell of night is as strong as the night is dark and silent.” See note to .11-2. The bad news: “earthnight” is night soil, chamberpot contents being “strewed” outdoors, with accompanying aroma; compare second note to .11, first note to .11-2. 427.11: “His pibrook creppt mong the donkness:” Bagpipes (pibroch) would have been used for playing the (“keelrow” (.3)) keel row, which appears in “Circe” as a typically Scottish dance. The sound of bagpipes has, more than once, been compared to the braying of an ass. See first note to .11-2. 427.11: “creppt:” as with the “crepitant” sounds of “Circe,” the noise of farting. Probably another derisive comment on the bagpipes, as well on the smell - "reek" - in circulation. 427.11-2: “A reek was waft on the luftstreem:” “reek” is literal: whether from chamberpot (therefore in the air), or toilet (therefore in the water), the smell of his night soil pervades the immediate environment. Edinburgh, land of bagpipes, was called “Auld Reekie” because of the concentrated reek of chamberpots, etc. 427.11-2: “A reek was waft on the luftstream:” Shaun has left his “fragrance.” Chacun a son gout. 427.14: “sharming:” charming, shamming – the man’s palaver 427.15-6: “the lamp went out as it couldn’t glow on burning, yep, the lmp went out for it couldn’t stay alight:” both dwindling in the distance and extinguished by sinking. Also, E. L. Epstein: “Joyce ingeniously shows the dimming and vanishing of Shaun’s belt lamp by suppressing the vowels of the repeated phrase.” Also, Clive Hart suggests that “lmp” is l. m. p., standing for ALP’s last menstrual period. 427.15: “the lamp went out as it couldn’t glow on burning:” both dwindling in the distance – floating downriver, it’s fading from sight - and extinguished by sinking. Again, the dimming of his light (“thylike fades” (.17) thy light fades) explains why “the stellas were shinings” (.10) – the stars become more visible. 427.17: “thylike:” thy likeness: I’m losing sight of as you float/sink away, which is why the time seems “dire;” in the following lines we hear that Shaun is slowly disappearing. 427.19: “mine bruder, able Shaun:” as in Cain and Abel 427.19: “with a twhisking of the robe:” compare the end of “Lycidas:” “At last he rose, and twitch’d his Mantle blew.” Also, compare 428.25 and note. 427.19-20: “ere the morning of light calms our hardest throes:” 1. Most intense dreaming period comes before dawn. 2. Dawn, when it comes, calms it down. Compare 338.29-31: “And may he be too an intrepidation of our dreams which we foregot at wiking when the morn hath razed out limpalove and the bleakfrost chilled our ravery!” Both passages refer to the tradition, and fact, that dreams, especially erotic ones, typically become especially vivid before dawn, for instance Stephen’s pre-waking dream in Portrait, chapter five, and FW 547.16-554.10, the conclusion of III.3, just before the waking-up III.4. Also, the throes of childbirth: from his father, Joyce knew that he had been born at about 6:30 a.m., February 2 – in that northern latitude, somewhat before first light. “Throes” can apply to either birth or death, and there is a tradition that most deaths occur just before dawn. 427.20: “cods’ cradle and porpoise plain:” parodies of Anglo-Saxon kennings, e.g. “whale’s path.” Shaun is heading out to sea. 427.21: “undfamiliar:” and familiar, unfamiliar 427.22: “inds of Tuskland:” the Indies, in this case East Indies: India with its elephants, with their tusks 427.22-3: “ousts of Amiracles where the toll stories grow proudest:” America as land of Barnumesque buncombe – tall stories. Perhaps also skyscrapers. 427.25: “manomano:” man to man. (“Mano a mano” as signifying one-on-one combat was apparently not around at the time.) 427.25: "manomano and myriamilia even to mulimuli:" in Samoan, "mano" is a thousand, "muli" the end, and "mulimuli" last. 427.27: “country of the old:” old country (Ireland) 427.27: “the walking saint:” several saints have been given this title. 427.28: “too stayer:” given “Fuinn,” as in Huckleberry Finn, two lines later, probably Tom Sawyer. 427.29: “graced:” greatest 427.31-2: “propredicted from the storybouts:” tradition that events of the New Testament – Jesus most of all – fulfill writings in the Old Testament, “that the prophecy might be fulfilled.” “Propredicted:” foreshortened “Prophet-predicted.” 427.32: “ages wise!:” ancient eyes 427.32-3: “Spickspookspokesman of our specturesque silentiousness!:” like a medium at a séance 427.34: “poor twelve o’clock scholars:” III.1 begins at midnight. Throughout its length, Shaun’s interlocutor has, usually, been the ass belonging to the four old men; here it seems to be the men themselves. 427.36: “Biddyhouse:” given that the hen’s name is Biddy, this would be the henhouse (compare “Cockpit” of .34), whence Shaun will later re-emerge as an egg. 427.36: “one way or either:” one way or other. Gist of the sentence: come back home to any place where your smile is missed, which is everywhere. 427.36: “miss your smile:” long shot: a miss is as good as a mile. The expression was around at the time. 428.1: “milksoup:” as McHugh notes, milksop – slang for a timid man, sometimes for one dominated by women. Also, supo is Samoan for milk. 428.2: “Samoanesia:” portmanteau word encompassing Samoa and Polynesia (also, amnesia: dreams proverbially fade quickly from memory). “Palmwine [and] breadfruit” (.1) are both associated with the region, and the latter figures prominently in its best-known story, about Captain Bligh and the Bounty. 428.2: “after forgetting:” “after” establishes this as an Irish speaker. From here to chapter’s end, the Irish diction becomes thicker as the Irish allusions become more frequent. 428.3: “the elders luking and marking the jornies:” they are counting the days until you “round up in your own escapology” (.21-2) - turn around and come home. 428.3-4: “chalkin up drizzle in drizzle out on the four bare mats:” “drizzle:” Ireland is rainy. Doors were chalked to signify plague. A dreary prospect all round, enough to turn Ireland’s traditional “four green fields” (its provinces) into “four bare mats,” with an overtone of doormat. 428.6: “scrimmaging through your scruples to collar a hold:” OED: “collar:” “In Football: To stop an opponent who is running with the ball.” (“Scrimmage” is a word from what the OED calls “Rugby Football.”) 428.7: “Mery Loye:” given musical context, Marie Lloyd, famous music hall performer 428.7-8: “Mery Loye is saling moonlike:” Mother Goose (see McHugh) is sometimes depicted flying, on a goose. Will be matched with (“yougander”) at .10 428.9: “Turn your coat:” another equal-opposite: turn around and return to your native land; betray your native land 428.10-27: “And may…battercops:” take-off of touristy “Irish blessing:” "May you have” etc. etc. of good things, usually including “luck of the Irish” and “may the wind be always at your back.” Joyce’s attitude toward such is predictably sardonic and double-edged: see, for instance, .27 and note. 428.12: “fireplug:” Firbolg. Also, Wikipedia says that the buttplug was invented in 1892. Contemporary gay erotica sometimes includes “fireplug” as synonym (or brand name), but there’s probably no way of determining how far back that goes. 428.15: “winding your hobbledehorn:” common poeticism: to wind a horn is to blow on it. (Appears in “Lycidas.”) Since a “hobbledehoy” is an awkward young man, Shaun’s musicianship – on the horn, anyway – is apparently amateurish. Also, a horn – posthorn - is a frequent insignia of the postal service. 428.17-20: “when the natural morning of your nocturne blankmerges into the national morning of golden sunup and Don Leary gets his own back from old grog Georges Quartos as that goodship the Jonnyjoys takes the wind from the waterloogged Erin’s king:” overall, a prophecy of a new day of Irish independence. As Bloom remembers in “Calypso,” the morning’s “rising sun” was a symbol for home rule. Dún Laoghaire was Dunleary until renamed Kingstown in honor of the visit of George IV in 1821, then given back its original (re-Gaelicized) name in 1920. (Compare 521.27 and note.) “Don Leary” sounds like a typical Irish name and may refer to Dan Leary’s Music Hall, mentioned in “Cyclops” as a place of Irish entertainment. Parnell, Ireland’s “uncrowned king,” was Erin’s king; Joyce’s father John Joyce was an ardent follower, who kept the faith when, according to the story, Parnell died as result of getting drenched – waterlogged – in the rain. Given (“blank-’) white and (“golden”) gold, Parnell may possibly be adding green, to make the Irish tricolor. (Or, see .28 and note.) 428.19: “old grog Georges Quartos:” George IV was famously fond of alcoholic beverages – in the widest sense, grog. 428.20: “takes the wind:” during a race, a sailboat can maneuver itself between an opponent’s boat and the direction from which the wind is coming, thus taking the wind out of its sails. Complications: 1. In context, may mean the opposite – gaining power, not losing it. 2. The ship bearing George IV to Dublin traveled by sail; both the John Joyce and the Erin’s King (see McHugh) were steam-powered. 428.22: “escapology:” Houdini was an “escapologist;” one of his escapes was from a barrel filled with beer. 428.22: “sack on back, alack!:” the HCE of the beginning of Book I, both as returning son, a postman with his sack on his back, and, alack, a hunchback 428.23-5: “with your picture pockets turned knockside out in the rake of the rain for fresh remittances:” as a beggar. Pockets turned inside out are a cartoon sign of poverty; he’s standing that way (in the rain) waiting for someone to send him (“fresh remittances”) more money. 428.25: “timus tenant:” "timu:" Samoan for rain. If the rain holds off. Also, a play on “locum tenens.” Likely meaning: for the time being 428.26: the tussocks grow quickly under your trampthickets:” takeoff on saying, “He doesn’t let the grass grow under his feet.” 428.26: “trampthickets:” discarded tram-tickets: litter, in which a tramp is standing 428.26: “tussocks” are patches of grass. May belatedly complete colors of Irish flag, after white and gold of .17-18. 428.27: “the daisies trip lightly over your battercops:” given common expression “pushing up daisies,” another double-edged sentiment
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429.1: “Jaunty Jaun:” surely pertinent that the initials here correspond to those of James Joyce. Joyce at times fancied himself as a Don Juan.
429.2: “first cothurminous leg:” first stage of a journey. Also, OED disdains “co-terminous” as an “improperly formed” word. What does it mean? In this case, something like equal/parallel with the other leg 429.2-3: “leg…pulled:” a legpull – fooling someone into believing something ridiculous 429.4: “preambler:” as a newborn child – alternatively as a drunk – he is not (yet) able to walk. “Preamble” perhaps includes “pram”/”perambulator.” Also, as a postman about to begin his rounds, this is his pre-amble stage. 429.4-5: “both of his bruised brogues that were plainly made a good bit before his hosen were:” obvious – plain to see - because his socks are sticking through the holes in his worn-out shoes. Compare .16 and note. Also, made to be plain: brogues, stereotypically worn by Irish salt-of-the-earth types, are the opposite of fancy footwear. 429.5: “at the weir by Lazar’s Walk:” Jaun began his downriver journey in Chapelizod, within audible distance of the bells of St. Laurence’s Church (403.18-22) and within sight of the Chapelizod Bridge (403.5). By this point he has floated as far east as the last bridge over the Liffey before the open harbor. Mink: “Before the 17th cent[ury], this was the tidal S[outh] bank of the Liffey, and was the Dan[ish] landing place near where they erected the ‘Steyne.’ As early as the 13th cent it was a leper (lazar’s) hosp[ital], the gathering place of pilgrims waiting to embark for the shrine of St James (Iago) of Compostella.” 429.5: “Lazar’s Walk:” combines two of Jesus’s miracles: bringing Lazarus back from the dead and curing a paralytic with the words, “Take up thy bed and walk.” 429.7: “barrelhours:” by analogy to, for instance, light years: the distance a barrel (him) can travel in one hour 429.9: “planemetrically:” plainly. Also: “planimetric:” referring to two-dimensional geometry; maps without indications of relief. Compare .12-3 and note: Jaun is being perceived two-dimensionally. 429.9-10: “when I took a closer look at him…at this rate of growing:” a bit of perceptual relativity: has he really grown bigger, or just come closer? (Compare next entry.) Astronomical language (“barrelhours” (see .7 and note), “space,” “system,” as well as “speeds”) may indicate that Einstein’s theory is the inspiration. 429.10: “gracious helpings, at this rate of growing:” see previous entry. One possibility: that thanks to his many “helpings” of food, he is getting fatter. 429.10: “cotted:” cottage, as in “love in a cottage,” would have signified simple, homely virtues. 429.10: “cotted child:” coddled child 429.11: “in systems:” existence. Since events here have a cosmic dimension, the “systems” are probably solar systems. Compare 263.24. 420.12: “amply altered for the brighter:” if he is in fact getting nearer (see note to .9-10), it makes sense that his lamp should be getting brighter. 429.12-3: “still the graven image of his squarer self:” changed, but still recognizable from infancy. Also, graven images are two-dimensional. Seen two-dimensionally, in relief, Jaun, a cylindrical barrel, is a rectangle. If he is getting wider because fatter (see first note to .10), the rectangle is becoming more like a square. Also, square in the sense of solid, reliable, law-abiding – what Jaun is, compared to his brother 429.13: “perspiring:” see 430.17 and note. From the outset, Shaun-as-barrel, partly immersed in the Liffey, is to some degree permeable: he both absorbs and leaks. 429.14: “notwithstanding his foot:” not standing on his foot (because it’s asleep) 429.15-6: “he thought…he had a bullock’s hoof in his buskin:” being asleep, the foot is numb, as, presumably, a bullock’s would be, at least by comparison with human feet. In classical theatre, a buskin was worn by players in a tragedy and would have increased their heights. 429.15: “januarious:” Janus: two-sided Roman god of doors and beginnings. Description of Jaun here suggests he may be leaning, back to back, against the manservant - sometime (“exsearfaceman” (.19)) serviceman/soldier or ex-soldier, sometime (“comestabulish” (.18) constable (“Sackerson” (530.22)) “Sigurdsen” (.18) – making for an image characteristic of depictions of Janus. 429.16: “halluxes:” besides (McHugh) big toes, sticking through the shoes, callouses 429.17: “bigmouthed poesther:” loudmouthed poseur/poetaster. “Bigmouthed” goes with wide top of barrel. 429.17: “restant:” archaic term for resting. Sounds heraldic, like the “trippant” and “regardant” of “Proteus;” isn’t 429.18: “butterblond:” perhaps a sign of the manservant’s Scandinavian origins 429.19-20: “(and where a better than such exsearfaceman to rest from roving the laddyown he bootblacked?):” “Sigerson” (.18) is the Mullingar’s bootblack. (Blacking and shining the shoes and boots of guests used to be a regular service of many hotels.) The passage seems to say: 1. After roving, Jaun found it natural to rest against his old menial boot-blacker; 2. Sigurdsen found it natural to come to rest at his old station; or 3. both 429.20: “buried upright:” aside from an upright corpse (see McHugh), a riverside piling or post, driven into the Liffey bottom. Compare 430.12: “the log who looked stuck.” 429.21: “kozydozy:” cosily dozing. The spelling, like the Krazy Kat of Joyce’s contemporary George Herriman, is raffishly slangy. 429.22: “night duty:” the (“comestabulish” (.19)) “Sigurdsen” (see also 15.35) has been assigned night patrol, otherwise known as the graveyard shift: hardly a vote of confidence from his superiors, and, drunk and asleep, he’s muffing even that. 429.22: “equilebriated:” combines inebriated, but maintaining equilibrium. Sigurdsen/Sackerson, having drunk himself to sleep, is feeling at peace with the state of things. Also, he is displaying the knack, sometimes acquired by accomplished drunks or military sentries, of staying publicly upright while otherwise out of commission. 429.23: “monopolized:” municipal 430.1-5: “Now…brinkspondy: “hedge” schools were sometimes taught under trees. 2. The tree in this case is (“Saint Berched’s” (.2)) the birch. 3. Birches (as in the “James Lovebirch” of “Wandering Rocks”) were the preferred means for punishment of students, male and female. That may be why the tree here is a “warning” (.4-5) to the students, with “warming” probably in the background: compare Bloom in “Circe,” on spanking: “a warm tingling glow.” 4. “Corporal chastisement in girls’ schools,” as itemized in a clipping in one of Bloom’s “Ithaca” inventories, was a favorite subject of Victorian and Edwardian pornography. 5. The girls seem, Fifty Shades of Gray-wise, to be, if anything, attracted to the tree and its birching implications. 430.2: “nightschool:” because, as McHugh notes about “antemeridian,” the time is early in the a.m.; at 449.24-5 a clock will be heard striking two. 430.5: “upon the brinkspondy:” see McHugh: on the edge (brink) of the riverbank 430.4: “antemeridian:” as in, before the high point of one’s life – one’s prime. The girls are “barely in their typtap teens” (.11). 430.6: “first human yellowstone landmark:” probably the “butterblond” hair (439.18). Also, America’s Yellowstone National Park features ancient sequoia trees, including one, a petrified, therefore "-stone" tree, legendarily prehistoric. 430.6-8: “the bear:” see previous entry. Bears have long been the most famous denizens of Yellowstone. 430.7: “the king of all boors, Sir Humphrey his knave:” “Humphrey his” is an archaic version of “Humphrey’s.” The manservant is HCE’s knave in the sense (second definition, OED) of male servant. He is often represented as boorish. 430.9: “magnetically:” in “Nausicaa,” Bloom speculates on how the supposed influence of the moon’s phases on the moods and changes of women exemplifies a universal “magnetism.” The twenty-nine girls (with a thirtyish, Marge, sometimes present and sometimes not) are in sync with the lunar phase cycle of 29.5 days. 430.10: “allo misto posto:” song: “Oh, Mr. Porter!” Compare 222.9. Also, a jokey “Hello, Mr. Postman!” Also, “post office” was a popular adolescent kissing game. (Also called “postman’s knock;” compare 27.7-8, 177.7.) 430.11: “typtap:” the sound of typing, as from a secretarial typing pool of young females. The origin is the “splabashing” (431.16) sound of (“they paddled”) their paddling “eight and fifty pedalettes” (.8-9) -twenty-nine pairs of feet. Perhaps tap dancing, too 430.14: “visibly unmoved:” expression: visibly moved 430.14: “abasourdly:” besides absurdly, French sourd, deaf. In general (compare 158.12-3) Shem hears acutely but is visually impaired; Shaun is the reverse. 430.16: “smuggy:” again, as in Portrait, chapter one, “smugging” is juvenile sex-play. 430.17: “doffed a hat:” compare 425.9-10, 425.11 and notes. Jaun loosens the barrel’s top lid, thus freeing the “perfumios” (.27) of the contents to escape, attracting the bee-like females (.19-29). In “Nausicaa,” Bloom imagines a similar scene: “Women buzz[ing] round it [“Mansmell”] like flies round treacle” - the mansmell in that case is the scent of semen, bottled up in celibate priests and, under congestive pressure, seeping out through their pores, creating a pheromonic aura irresistible to women. (Joyce apparently got this idea from a book in his library, Augustin Galopin’s Le Parfum de la Femme.) 430.17-8: “reinforced crown:” probably refers to the steel hoop at the barrel’s top 430.18: “bowed:” as a barrel bobbing on the river, he is lurching up and down. 430.20: “sowarmly…buzzy:” buzzing bees, swarming 430.20: “post:” postal box 430.21: “kittering:” tittering, perhaps kittenishly 430.22: “girlsfuss over him pellmale:” London’s Pall Mall (pronounced pell mell) was a fashionable place for the sexes to meet and flirt – here, where the “girlsfuss,” for instance, might meet, and make a fuss over, males. 430.22-3: “his rosyposy smile, mussing his frizzy hair and the golliwog curls:” Guinness is black. “Frizzy” and golliwog” were common terms for African hair; “golliwog” occurs in “Nausicaa,” and caricatures often featured exaggerated red lips. (Real-world source here is probably the fizzy fermentation – the “head” – atop the contents of the leaking barrel of Guinness.) That some white women were sexually obsessed with black men was a commonplace, sounded in “Circe” (“Negro servants in livery too if she had money. Othello black brute.”) and FW (236.15-6). Compare note to .25. 430.24: “Finfria’s:” Gaelic Fionn: fair 430.25: “(ain’t they fine, mighty, mighty fine and honoured?):” addressed to Jaun, the honored one. May be a bit of African-American argot 430.26: “smilingly smelling:” compare the girls of 142.31-143.2: “they smell smiling.” 430.26: “broad:” American slang for woman 430.28-9: “savouring of wild thyme and parsley jumbled with breadcrumbs:” sounds like a wine snob going on about the “notes” of some opened bottle; compare 38.3-8. 430.30: “pouch:” mailman’s bag; scrotum 430.30: “jingaling:” like “dingaling:” conventional bell sound 430.31: “sixtine:” sixteen and sixty, young and old: equal opposites. As sixteen, half of thirty-two, one version of the twins’ 3-2 signature. Editorial note: Giorgio Joyce was thirty-two on March 21, 1938, your annotator’s candidate for FW’s default date. (Joyce was fifty-six, Nora fifty-four, Lucia thirty.) Also, perhaps an allusion to Sixtine, an 1890 novel by Remy de Gourmont which may have influenced Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. 430.32-3: “killingest ladykiller all by kindness:” popular saying, quoted in “Nausicaa:” “a man who lifts his hand to a woman, save in the way of kindness, is the lowest of the low.” Context indicates that it’s the penis, not the hand, that’s being lifted here. Also, “killing” in the slang of the time could mean irresistible to the opposite sex. Also, possible overtone of the expression "killing with kindness" 430.33: “hillo:” a call to a distant person. (Occurs in this sense in “Circe”) 430.34-5: “dollybegs:” dolly-bags: small handbags traditionally used by bridesmaids to carry flowers, rice, etc. in the wedding ceremony 430.36: “Agatha’s lamb:” deliberately or not, confuses St. Agatha with St. Agnes, whose emblem is the lamb 430.36: “Eulalina’s:” there are two Saint Eulalias. 431.1: “(finefeelingfit!):” I’m fine! I’m feeling fit! Evangelists of the time (e.g. Billy Sunday) sometimes promoted their own physical fitness as a sign of Godly living. 431.3: “tight kittycasques:” the tight-fitting cloche hats, sometimes called casque hats, fashionable in the 20’s. Not especially provocative, but they were associated with the “new,” liberated woman. 431.3-4: “frickyfrockies:” frilly frocks. Possible overtone of “frig” 431.4-5: “read Irish legginds:” red stockings or tights – definitely a sign of sexual availability, sometimes a signature of prostitutes. The FW jinnies wear them. (See, for instance, 87.28-9.) Equal-oppositely, Jaun is encouraging the girls to read improving literature – Irish legends, for instance. 431.5: “ham of her hom:” ham = buttocks. If her ham(s) can be seen below her hem, her frock must be short indeed. Compare .27 and note. “Hom” is probably a short “harrumph” – Jaun doesn’t want to use the actual word: see note to .5-7. 431.5-7: “hom…hem…hum…hom:” Jaun going “hmm,” intended as discreet note of disapproval 431.6: “lavariant:” according to Joyce's Notebook X, Breton for "in a friendly manner." (Source: Ian MacArthur, "More Breton in Finnegans Wake," Genetic Joyce Studies, Issue 20. In the following, the source for some of the Breton annotated for III.2. ) Also, French la variante: the fickle (female) one 431.7: “bittock:” again (compare .5 and note) overtone of “buttock” 431.7-8: “to have a sideeye to that, hom:” he’s advising her to have an eye to that, ahem – to attend to and take care of it. 431.10: “was by way of becoming:” again, Jaun continues to grow, either/both becoming closer/larger. Also, he may be gradually more visible because the seer’s eyes are dilating, adapting to the dark. Joyce’s work, including FW, is full of such Is-it-hot-in-here-or-is-it-me? phenomena. The process is reciprocal: at .14 he has “made out” the sight of Issy. 431.12-3: “from Sampson’s tyke to Jones’s sprat and from the King of all Wrenns down to infuseries:” 1. First, from large and powerful down to tiny and insignificant. Sampson was large and Christopher Wrenn’s king was Charles II, known for his height. Sprats and “infuseries”/infusoria ( see McHugh) are small. 2. However, a tyke is a small child and a wren is a small bird. (FW often like to have it both ways.) 431.14: “prelimbs:” slangy abbreviation for preliminaries, with a giveaway slip showing his interest in (e.g. “Irish legginds” (.4)) their limbs. 431.14: “eroscope:” as Eros-scope, seeing them through the lenses of erotic interest, recalls the phallic “tallowscoop” of I.1. See previous entry and .19-20 note. 431.17: “so tarnelly easy as all that:” for some reason, a drop into rustic American idiom. Compare “Scylla and Charybdis:” “A. E. has been telling some yankee interviewer. Wall, tarnation strike me!” 431.19: “the world and his life:” McHugh identifies this as the expression “the world and his life.” It means everybody and/or everything. 431.19-20: “sweet heart could buy:” street vendor’s call: “Sweet tarts! Come buy!” Given sexual sense of “tart,” probably a come-on. Also, we have had “a trayful of cloudberry tartlets” (430.24-5), a “knave,” and a “King” (430.7). Maybe Issy, with her 28 attendants, is the queen of “heart”s. 431.26: “by Great Harry:” compare “Oxen of the Sun:” “by the Lord Harry.” Gifford says it means “by the devil.” 431.26-7: “shove off:” what ships do. As McHugh notes, “Great Harry” was a ship. 431.27: “our long last journey:” death 431.29-30: “letters for presentation:” letter of presentation 431.30: “presentation…anun:” Nora stayed at the Presentation Convent in Galway. 431.31: “wont to recall to mind:” “wont” is triple-edged: an old-fashioned “wont,” plus “want” and “won’t.” Appropriately for this parting-cup scenario, a nod to “never brought to mind,” from “Auld Lang Syne” 431.31-3: “tales of homespinning and derringdo and dieobscure and daddyho, these tales which reliterately whisked off our heart:” when FW says to take something literally, take it literally. Here, someone is homily/homelyly spinning yarn (for homespun clothing) by the (“heart”) hearth while telling or (“reliterately”) relating tales (or yarns: see 91.20-1 and note, 319.13-4 and note, 320.35 and note); for that purpose the (again, “heart”) hearth has been swept clean by a whiskbroom and the (again, “reliterately”) fire literally re-lit. The tales have transported us because we took them to heart. In all, an ever-popular vignette of benign domesticity. “Cyclops” (“our ruined hearths,” spoken by the citizen, who literally has a ruined heart) anticipates the heart/hearth double-meaning. 431.32: “daddyho:” Daddy-o: American slang for male authority figure 431.34: “rhythmetic:” along with “reading” and “’riting,” “rithmetic,” one of the “three R’s” of elementary education. An English usage before it was an American one. Jaun is a teacher among other things, and his “teachings” (.28) have taught Issy “to write to us the exceeding nice letters” (.29), with “letters” in the alphabet sense presumably including reading lessons. Also, as a postman, Jaun would appreciate having the lettering written on envelope addresses being nice and neat. 431.34: “rhythmetic class:” besides (see previous entry) a class in arithmetic, an allusion to Eurhythmics, a movement of the thirties developed by Émile-Jacques Dalcroze; its students – Lucia Joyce was one – expressively matched bodily movements to music. Mentioned in Ellmann’s biography (p. 612); see also 36.10. 431.35-6: “we younkers twain were fairly tossing ourselves (O Phoebus! O Pollux!):” a vociferous circle jerk; they are sharing “our hard suite of affections” (432.2). 431.35: “younkers twain:” echo of Kipling’s Soldiers Three and of Mark Twain’s twin Yanks, Tom and Huck 432.1: “Castor’s Oil:” castor oil: famously bad-tasting medicine, usually given to children as a laxative, sometimes as a punishment. See next entry. 432.1: “on the Parrish’s syrup:” “on the parish:” as a recipient of church-supported charity. Also, syrup might either be mixed with castor oil to mitigate the taste or given immediately after to sweeten the aftertaste. 432.2: “will remember:” also, well remember 432.4: “I rise:” Arise! 432.6: “henservants:” manservants; female servants 432.9: “peas:” as in “P. P.,” parish priest 432.10: “nuncupiscent:” non-incriminating. Also, see next entry. 432.11: “viragos intactas:” the unconcupiscent “nun” of “nuncupiscent” (.10) would be an intact virgin – as virago, a bitter old maid 432.12: “what an awful life he led:” perhaps because his congregation consists entirely of nuns, eunuchs, and fellow priests, which, one imagines, could get boring. (On the other hand, see .14 and note.) I have heard somewhere of a father confessor to a nunnery who compared his office to “being pecked to death by sparrows.” 432.13-4: “a coppall of geldings:” it’s a two-horse town, and even those two horses are gelded. 432.14: “geldings:” McHugh has guilders, a coin no longer in circulation by the time Joyce was writing FW. According to the OED, as of 1900 two guilders would have amounted to a little over three shillings. As his payment for saying mass, that might explain why he considers himself “poorish priced” (.12). 432.14: “consommation with an effusion:” see McHugh. More of Joyce’s chronic suspicion of priests and their dealings with women. Compare the earlier FW 38.18, where another woman having having tea with a parish priest and requesting “jist a timblespoon!…between cuppled lips” (FW 38.20-1) is pretty obviously not just talking just about cream or sugar. 432.15-6: “he’d marry me any old buckling time:” that is, perform marriage for, not be married to. Still a strange thing to say to Jaun, at times a priest himself, but then again he needs the money. As McHugh notes, “buckling” means marrying. May recall Chaucer's Summoner, who, having blackmailed his female parishoners into sex, would then happily marry them off to unsuspecting men. 432.18: “hisand mikeadvice:” his and my advice, the “his” referring to Father Mike” (.5) 432.19: “cure:” as in, a curate’s office 432.19: “From above:” The words – “verbs” – come from above, from 1. heaven and 2. either “Father Mike,” cited above (.5), or the “most eminent bishop titular,” cited next (.19-20), who would be above him in the church hierarchy 432.20: “purtybusses:” party bosses. Also, busses – kisses – from the pretty girls, the “-dimseldamsels” of .21 432.21-2: “Comeallyedimseldamsels, siddle down and lissle all! Follow me close! Keep me in view!:” the standard opening for many Irish songs, “Come all ye” someone(s) or other(s), here addressed to a chameleon-like assemblage of (“-dim-“) not-bright schoolgirls, who have trouble following any line of thought; after all, according to 142.33, “they hate thinking.” It may also have to do with what is frequently the next line of such songs, “Mark well what I do say.” (Compare 480.11.) Their ever-changing array of seven or twenty-eight colors qualifies them as “camelia paints” (133.17) chameleons. Also, since Jaun is a barrel floating down the river, due to become smaller as he goes ever-farther downstream, he has a reason for urging them to keep in keep him in view: the encroaching “dim”-ness will be reciprocal. 432.21: “siddle…lissle:” components for Lewis Carroll’s (Alice) Liddell, one of the “-dimseldamsels” 432.21: “Dellabelliney:” Dublin 432.23: “massoeurses:” includes: mass, mass servers, my sisters, misses, and perhaps a coined messieurses, meaning female messieurs. 432.23: “preaching freer:” as a preaching friar, he would be a Dominican. 432.24-5: “gentleman without a duster…parlourmade without a spitch:” two degrees of undress: without a coat (the kind worn for travelling by car), without a stitch on. A tidying-up duster would normally be maid’s property. The scenario – a man of property taking advantage of a female servant – was a familiar one in Victorian and Edwardian melodrama; one version (Bloom, dressed accordingly, vis-à-vis the servant Mary Driscoll) makes an appearance in “Circe.” 432.24-5: “parlourmade without a spitch:” not sure how this adds up or fits in, but overtones of a “maiden speech” in Parliament seem pretty definite. 432.25: “apsence:” a church’s apse 432.29-30: “Where the lisieuse are we and what’s the first sing to be sung?:” one of the first indications that, when it comes to the goes-with-the-job business of celebrating mass, Jaun is being exceptionally inept and discombobulated. In what follows, he will not know what liturgical color corresponds to what liturgical season (.30-2) or what saint’s day (“fate’s” (.32) – fête’s) to be commemorated: the best he can come up with is “whatsintime” (.33) – what’shisname at what’sthe time. He will lose his temper and say it’s all the (“server”’s) deacon’s or altar boy’s fault (.33-4) and threaten to “sack” one or the other. He will cast about wildly for any one of the (“sinkts in the colander”) saints in the calendar to preach about, and settle on (“is a bel” (433.3)) Saint Isabella because Issy/Isabel is right before him and because she is a belle, pretty. Worst, he will take the theme of his homily from the words of his reprobate brother, Shem, the one with “the reed behind the ear” (433.9). In consequence, his homily will be a self-contradicting mishmash, constantly interrupted by Freudian-slip signs of repressed lust, and with no relation whatsoever to day, saint, season, or text, a fact which he will intermittently and, again, ineptly, attempt to paper over. Closest comparison familiar to me: Alan Bennett’s sermon on the text of “My brother Esau is a hairy man, but I am a smooth man,” from the Beyond the Fringe album of 1961. 432.30-1: “Is it rubrics, mandarimus, pasqualines, or verdidads is in it, or the bruislivid indecores of estreme voyoulence:” again, he is trying to figure out the right liturgical color for the season. Only the Russian Orthodox service would include (“mandarimus:” see McHugh) orange, for the feasts of Saints Peter and Paul. “Rubrics” are the red letters in some bibles, for instance those used in church services. Bruises are of course purple, here blending into “voyoulence” and “indecores,” violet and indigo, as inflicted on the body by some extreme violence. 432.32: “fate:” as McHugh notes, French fête, feast – the feast day for a saint; by which one could determine which was the right liturgical color of the day. 432.32-3: “besant:” bezant: Byzantine gold coin; given religious context, may be pertinent that in heraldry a bezant meant that the bearer had been a crusader. 432.35: “grapce:” grapes made into communion wine; compare 261 fn 3: "Groupname for grape juice." His job is to bless it and turn it into an element of God’s (“grapce”) grace. 432.35-6: “hopesome’s choice:” phrase: hope of a chance 432.36-433.1: “common:” archaic word for communion. Here, contrasted with “proper” mass ((433.1): see McHugh), a routine communion, as opposed to one performed with variations dependent on the date 433.1 “ignitious Purpalume to the proper of Francisco Ultramare:” I have trouble following McHugh’s reading of this as “infrared to ultraviolet.” (Infrared: because “ignitious” = ignition = fire = red = infrared?) In any case, ultramarine is a deep shade of blue, and in the Church of England, blue is the liturgical color for Advent, beginning December 3, “third of snows” (.2, see next entry) - so that seems to fit. (Though not for Catholic calendar, where the color is purple - and one would expect the service to be Catholic, although there are notable departures, for instance at 470.15-22. Also, in the Russian Orthodox calendar (see note to .31) the color is red.) On the other hand, for July 31, “last of scorchers” (.2, see next entry) the liturgical color is green for both communions, not (“Purpalume”) purple. It’s all very confusing – but then, the priest in charge (see 432.29-30 and note) is confused; there’s no reason he couldn’t get mixed up on this score along with all the others. 433.2: "last of scorchers, third of snows:” see McHugh. The feast days mentioned are on July 31 and December 3, respectively. The usual date of FW’s letter is “the last of the first” (111.10), that is, the last day of the first month, January 31. January sometimes doubles with, or is replaced by, June – summer, winter. 433.2: “howdydos:” “Howdy-do” was a stage-American catch-phrase, and at .5 “Gay O’Toole” probably alludes to Dublin’s Gaiety Theatre, a frequent FW presence. (Otherwise, except perhaps for “scorchers,” this does not seem to be an Americanized sequence.) 433.3: “is a bell…virginwhite:” Saint Isabelle of France: despite heavy pressure to marry, she remained a lifelong virgin. Her feast day is February 26, though – see entry after next – FW begs to differ. 433.3-4: “Here she’s, is a bell, that wares in heaven, virginwhite, Undetrigesima, vikissy manonna:” to my ear, this resembles the beginning of the Lord’s Prayer, along with an echo of Milton’s “war in heaven.” 433.3-4: “Undetrigesima:” as McHugh notes, 29th. Issy (“is a bell”/Isabelle) is FW’s leapyear girl, born on February 29, thus either seven or twenty-eight (or twenty-nine, or, with her mirror-image Marge, thirty) years old. 433.6: “Gloamy:” gloomy (McHugh) is contrasted with “Gay” (.5). Also, in the gloaming - twilight 433.8: “assisters:” assisting sisters 433.9: “reed behind the ear:” combines standard image of Thoth (with reed) with popular depiction of reporter or writer (pencil behind the ear) 433.9: “inkerman:” Johann Peter Eckermann was definitely an ink-man. His best-known work is Conversations with Goethe, a.k.a. (“Contrastations with Inkermann” (71.9-10)), Conversations with Eckermann. 433.11: “Never hate mere pork which is bad for your knife of a good friday:” combines Jewish and Muslim prohibition of pork with pre-1962 Catholic prohibition of meat on Friday and still-current (partial) fast on Good Friday. “Hate:” eat 433.12: “hog of the howth:” perhaps a mixture of “man of the house” and “gentleman who pays the rent” (the family pig) 433.13: “linen of Killiney:” Killarney linen – an Irish export. (Compare McHugh on “ribbons of lace, limenick’s disgrace” (.21).) Also, Killarney is the name of a card game – here followed by “Never play lady’s game.” 433.14: “Lord’s:” center of English cricket 433.14: “Lord’s stake:” paired with “lady’s game” (.13-4), meaning (McHugh) copulation, “stake” is an erection. It has this sense in, for instance, The Merchant of Venice. 433.15: “diamond back:” diamond engagement ring; diamondback rattlesnake. Together, implying breach of promise: a male snake in the grass who secures your favors by promising to marry but then doesn’t 433.15-6: “kicking up your rumpus:” expression “kick up a rumpus:” to behave rowdily, causing a sensation. Also “rump:” arse. As in, for example, the can-can, a female performer could certainly cause a rumpus by flaunting her rump. 433.16: “scroll end of sofas:” during the late 18th and early 19th century, fashionably neoclassical sofas featured scroll-like adornments at both ends. 433.17: “risky:” risqué songs were a music hall staple of some female stars, Marie Lloyd most famously. 433.17: “commercial travellers’ smokers:” commercial travelers – traveling salesmen – figured prominently in the era’s bawdry. “Smokers” were, virtually, men-only affairs in which off-color (“risky”/ risqué) talk was common; any woman present would be there for the show. 433.18: “Columbian nights:” As of Joyce’s time, there was a Knights of Columbanus, a Knights of Columba, and a Knights of Columbus, the last primarily American. All were fraternal Catholic organizations. According to this account, at night they are given to a certain degree of communal impropriety. 433.19: “Murry:” can be either Murray or Mary, male or female. Joyce’s mother’s maiden name was Murray. 433.19: “Minxy:" minx: a pert tease. Also, the temptresses of FW are often associated with urination – Latin mingō, as in the “micturition” of “Ithaca.” 433.19: “Manxmaid:” given cross-sexual tenor of this passage, it may be relevant that a Manx cat has no tail; in “Circe” the term means that Bloom has been unmanned, perhaps castrated. 433.23: “Hip confiners:” corsets or some similar shaping undergarment. See next entry. They “help compunction” by fending off prying male hands. 433.24: “brief stays:” briefs = underpants; stays = corset, girdle. Compare next entry. In the sense of short times, a stay in a men’s room, perhaps in an emergency when no women’s room was available, would presumably be as brief as possible. 433.24-5: “convenience:” British euphemism for public toilet 433.25: “buttoncups:” a guess: bras for pre-teen girls. (“Cup size” is standard measurement for a bra.) 433.26: “first person:” in context, the old Adam – the original sinner, here lusting after her (“last place” (.27)), the last place he should, properly, be permitted to go, that being her (“oncemaid sacral” (.28)) sacredly maidenly sacroiliac – see note to .28. Compare the “first man’s laughter” of the man who by having his way has made some coy colleen a “wailful moither” (.29-30), a wailing mother. 433.27: “promising hand:” given context, probably means a bogus offer of marriage given by a would-be seducer – again, breach of promise; see note to .15, above. 433.28: “oncemaid sacral:” the sacroiliac is in the vicinity of the pelvis – her private parts. Once made sacred, consecrated to lawful propagation, and until then she is to remain a maid, despite the efforts of his “promising hand” 433.29: “bush:” pubic hair 433.29: “wailful moither:” besides (McHugh) willful murder, wailing (impregnated) mother, with a Brooklynese accent 433.30: “O foolish cuppled:” they, and especially she, were foolish to have coupled. 433.30: “cuppled…dice:” dice are shaken in cups. Dicing is yet another way to go astray. 433.31-2: “Never slip your silver key through your gate of golden age:” more sexual innuendo. Compare “Ithaca” – Bloom “inserting the barrel of an arruginated male key in the hole of an unstable female lock.” 433.32: “gate of golden age:” San Francisco’s Golden Gate. The site was so named before, beginning in 1933, the bridge went up.. 433.33: “Ere you sail foreget my prize:” Before you sail off with me (like Nora, unlike Eveline) get hold of what I’ve promised you, presumably money or wedding ring. 434.4-5: “nobler in the main to supper than the boys and errors of outrager’s virtue:" nobler or not, overall, better to sup safely at home than risk having your virtue outraged by going out with errant young men. Also, home cooking beats risking being poisoned, for instance by poison arrows. 434.5-6: “all-cotten glooves:” ill-gotten loves. Also, all-cotton as opposed to the less expensive cotton blend. Here, a too-expensive gift from a suitor with dishonorable intentions - which is why they should be given back. "perhaps "glooves" because there are two of them - compare "oogling" (426.16) - ogling with both eyes. 434.6: “yella perals:” yellow pearls were valued over the white variety in some countries. (On the other hand, yellowed pearls, having been neglected and allowed to turn yellow with age, would be less prized. A possible instance of coinciding contraries.) Whether first- or second- rate here, they are proverbially an example of seducer’s bait, just like the all-cotton gloves.. 434.7-8: “gethobbyhorsical:” to play the hobby-horse in a Morris Dance is to cavort around while wearing an imitation-horse outfit around one’s waist. Also, horsing around, here in the sense of flamboyant flirting 434.7-9: “gethobbyhorsical, playing breeches parts for Bessy Sudlow in fleshcoloured pantos:” pantomime (“pantos”) horses were two people in a horse outfit; the “breeches” part would presumably be the rear end. 434.8-9: “fleshcoloured pantos:” panto performances could often be pretty risqué to begin with. Wearing a flesh-colored costume, especially in the pants (“breeches”) region, sounds outrageous. No wonder Jaun warns against such a course. 434.9-10: “instead of earthing down in the coalhole trying to boil the big gun’s dinner:” sounds onerous, but the main point is that it’s better than the alternative, that being the false glamor of the stage. The coal hole, where the coal was stored, was a home’s darkest and dingiest spot. She would be “earthing down” in it to get coal for fuel to boil the dinner for, probably, her father. 434.10-1: “Leg-before-Wicked lags-behind-Wall::” a wicket is a gate in a wall. 434.10-1: “lags-behind-Wall:” in British schoolboy slang, a lag is the last in a race or other athletic competition. Also, according to Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 2022), slang for urinate. 434.11: “Here Mr. Whicker:” Herr Earwicker 438.11: “whacked a great fall:” as in the (spelling approximate) “Whack-foll-the-daddyo,” of some refrains of Irish songs. (But not "Finnegan's Wake") 434.12-3: “Femora-familla feeled it a candleliked but Hayes, Conyngham and Erobinson sware it’s an egg:” would seem to incorporate the expression “candling an egg:” that is, holding an egg up to a candle light to determine whether the egg has been fertilized, therefore not to be eaten. Possibly “candlepower,” a basic unit of light measurement, is present as well, but I can’t see how it pairs off in that sense against “egg.” “Brown [sometimes Smith], Jones and Robinson” was a popular expression similar to “Tom, Dick, and Harry.” The sexual opposition between “candle” (penis, according to McHugh) and “egg” (ovum) is reinforced by the female-ish “Femora-familla” opposed to male “Hayes,” etc. I speculate that this has to do with conflicting theories of conception – whether the fetus was essentially the offspring of father or mother. 434.14-6: “Remember the biter’s bitters I shed the vigil I buried our Harlotte Quai from poor Mrs Mangain’s of Britain Court on the feast of Marie Maudlin:” a cautionary tale: she remembers shedding bitter tears at the funeral of a harlot – probably one who committed suicide in the customary manner by jumping in the river, from a quay. (Alternatively, .16-7 (see next entry) has her being hanged – led to the halter, not, like a properly virginal bride, to the altar.) “Magdalen” was of course synonymous with prostitute, “Maudlin” with the shedding of (bitter) tears. According to Molly in “Penelope,” the quays is where prostitutes congretate – so notoriously, here, that one of them, “Harlotte Quai,” is named for the local harlots. This one died, was buried on “the feast of Marie Maudlin” (.15-6): Mary Magdalen, the maudlin prostitute. 434.16-7: “wipe her weeper dry and lead her to the halter:” dry her tears. Also, weepers were black hatbands worn by hired mourners that hung down over the brim. The idea seems to be waste-not want-not: untie the weeper, dry it out (from the tears), and repurpose it as a “halter,” tied around her neck, to lead her to the altar. 434.17: “lead her to the halter:” either marry her (altar) or hang her (halter – hangman’s noose); in “Lotus-Eaters,” women at the altar are wearing “halters,” apparently as a sign of membership in a sodality. Compare 62.11: “by mine hosenband I thee halter.” 434.17: “biter’s bitters:” crocodile (biter) tears (bitter) 434.17: “heyday, laid in the straw:” as in Portrait, chapter one: “Hayfoot! Strawfoot!” “Laid” includes common sexual meaning. Also, “in the hay:” as in “roll in the hay” - site of sexual performance. (Also, as McHugh notes, of childbirth – Jesus’, for instance) 438.18: “bought for one puny petunia:” compare the prostitute recalled in “Oxen of the Sun:” “she is a poor waif, a child of shame, yours and mine and of all for a bare shilling and her luckpenny.” Here, the price is down to just the (“puny”) penny. As McHugh notes, “petunia” is Latin pecunia, money; it may also have her doubling as a flower girl, selling petunias. 434.18-9: “get to henna out of here:” “Gehenna” – Hebrew term for hell. Also, as henna, a cosmetic for painted women (compare “point a lily” (.18) paint the lily)) - Jaun doesn’t want anything do with it; see next entry. 434.19: “henna:” in “Circe,” the whore Kitty Rickets has her hair thickened with henna. 434.19: “Put your swell foot foremost:” put your foot down when it comes to fancy female clothes: don’t wear them. (“Swell foot,” as noted by McHugh, almost certainly alludes to Oedipus, but the relevance escapes me.) Oppositely, “swell:” was slang for excellent: she has attractive feet, and ought to display the prettier of the two. 434.19: “foulardy:” foolhardy 434.20: “pneumonia shirtwaists:” "pneumonia blouses" had low necklines and shirtwaists were considered mannish. Shaun objects to both. 434.21-3: “Sure, what is it on the whole only holes tied together, the merest and transparent washingtones to make Languid Lola’s lingery longer:” Jaun’s logic: lace, being full of holes, is just an underhanded way of selling a minimum of fabric for a maximum of money; also, of course, what with all those holes, it’s provocative. Overtone of French langue, tongue, in "lingery longer" probably brings in "make her mouth water" - Lola longs for those fashions. 434.23-4: “Scenta Clauthes stiffstuffs your hose:” 1. Santa Claus stuffs stockings on Christmas Eve; 2. perfumed (female) clothing give a man an erection – that is, a “stiff”y stuffed with congested blood. (Compare “Nausicaa”’s double-meaning “A dream of wellfilled hose”); 3. as Lenehan remarks in “Sirens,” women dancers in leg shows sometimes filled out their tights with sawdust. 4. The scent of clothes (McHugh) gives you a stuffed nose - maybe from the scent, maybe from the laundry soap. 434.24: “stiffstuffs your hose and heartsies full of temptiness:” coinciding contraries: 1. Their temptings swell your (phallic) hose, and heart, with blood. 2. As folk remedy, heart’s-ease is supposed to reduce swelling, (relatively) emptying both of blood. 434.25: “Diobell!:” diabolically beautiful. Also, according to Joyce's Notebook X, trace to diboell, Breton for "madness, fury." Fits the context 434.25-6: “Whalebones and buskbutts may hurt you…but:” well, yes: there was plenty of testimony at the time that such starchy “stays” could be painful to wear. Still, his point is that not wearing them, “lay[ing] bare your breast” (.26), would be even worse – and anyway, just to show you what real hurt is like, he will take your exposed flesh as an invitation to “thwackaway” (.26) at it. A busk is either the stiffening part of a corset (typically “Whalebones” (.25)) or the corset itself. Occurs in this sense in “Circe.” Probably includes “butt” as “arse” 434.26: “never lay bare your breast secret:” 1. don’t compromise yourself by revealing special (best) secrets; 2. don’t expose your breast(s) to Mr. ("joy a Jonas," James Joyce) J.J. 434.26: “(thwackaway thwuck!):” Along with “whalebones” of .25 and “Jonas” (Jonah) of .27, this evokes the sound of someone being flogged with a whalebone whip. One of many instances where Jaun’s S & M impulses break out 434.27: “joy a Jonas:” 1. Jonas Chuzzlewit is a villain in Martin Chuzzlewit, by Dickens, included (as “dickette’s”) in the same line. 2. James A. Joyce, perhaps reversed. May be pertinent that “John” was the name both of Joyce’s father and of his older brother, who died soon after birth. 434.27: “Dolphin’s Barncar:” given proximity to ("Jonas") Jonah, this must surely refer to Arion, carried to shore on the back of a dolphin. 434.27: “Barncar:” the bar car, on a train. According to Jaun, a place where chance relationships may be struck, leading to improprieties 434.27: “dickette’s:” clitoris, elsewhere (307, Fn. 1) a “little rude hiding rod.” What Issy earlier calls “improper frictions” (269 Fn. 3) are apparently mutual. (Also, again, Charle Dickens) 434.28: “your meetual fan:” as in “Circe,” there was a “language of fans” for sub rosa flirtation. One example: Closing your fan and tapping your wrist means “Meet me later.” Here, the fan acts as intermediary, facilitating a “meet”ing: it may also conveniently screen goings-on between the two. 434.28: “Doveyed Covetfilles:” coveting the favors of filles, he is, as the saying went, making dove’s eyes at them, as well as (see next entry) writing them poetry. A bedroom-eyes ladies’ man, coveting young women. Dickens' David Copperfield is given to this kind of behavior. 434.28-9: “comepulsing paynattention spasms between the averthisment:” composing and inserting heart-throb pleas between a newspaper’s advertisements. Sounds like a cross between the kind of ad that Bloom used to attract Martha Clifford and the “Personals” ads of a later era. Since “advert” means “turn towards,” “avert” makes it another case of coinciding contraries. As for “comepulsing…spasms:” the “Spasmodics” were a mid-Victorian school of poetry. (“Comepulsing” includes “convulsing” as well as “composing” and “pulsing.") Pulsing spasms would go with "meetual" sexual excitement, perhaps orgasm: compare the “pulsing proud erect” of “Sirens.” 434.28-9: between the averthisment for Ulikah’s wine and a pair of pulldoors of the old cupiosity shape:” Ukiah wine, a California wine from Ukiah grapes, was around since before Joyce’s time. Here, they are passing a wall poster advertising it. (McHugh suggests that “Ulikah’s” mixes in Uriah Heep, from David Copperfield.) The gist is that in the apparently short time that it takes them, in coach, carriage (compare Madame Bovary and the suspiciously mildewed carriage seats of “Hades”) or or even by rail, to travel between ad and shopdoor, what an earlier chapter calls “improper frictions” (269 Fn. 3) may get going, even leading to the (“cupiosity shape”) shameful shape of unmarried pregnancy resulting from a combination of curiosity and (McHugh) desire. You can’t be too careful, girls. Since it's likelier to happen if the two parties are sitting side by side, it's better to "please sit still face to face" (.32). Either is possible in an Irish jaunting car. 434.30: “a pair of pulldoors:” pull-on drawers - ladies’ underpants, sometimes called pull-ons. Also, in "Hades," one of the riders "pulled the door after him" after entering a carriage. 434.30-32: “There you’ll fix your eyes darkled on the autocart of the bringfast cable but here till youre martimorphysed please sit still face to face:” First Corinthains 13:12: "For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face.” “Darkled” eyes, lowered demurely, are presumably the opposite of sparkling eyes, meant to attract male attention. (Perhaps, equal-oppositely, cosmetic eye shadow, also meant to attract.) The emphasis here (compare “siddle down and lissle all!” (432.20-1)) is on “sit,” as in sit still – facing one another, for instance in an Irish jaunting car, and not going any farther than that, lying down, for instance. An (“autocart”) autocrat could be a marriage-market catch, so hold on and hold off until he or someone like him comes along. 434.31: “bringfast cable:” telegram 434.32: “till youre martimorphysed:” given context, till you’re (matrimonially metamorphosed) married 434.32: "martimorphysed:" given flurry of Dickens allusions, including ("joy a Jonas" (.27)), Jonas Chuzzlewit, Martin Chuzzlewit 434.32-4: “For if the short of your skorth falls down to his knees pray how wrong will he look till he rises?:” assuming that, as a man, he’s taller than her, a skirt whose hem was at the level of his knees would be too provocatively short. Intermingled with this observation: the sight of your exposed legs would make him fall down to his knees in worshipful gratitude; smitten at the sight, it might take a long time for him to rise to his feet but not to rise in the sense of getting an erection, especially since one of the reasons he kneeled down was to better see up the rest of your legs, and “how wrong” was that of him, really? Can you blame him? You’re the one flaunting your legs, after all. “Skorth” recalls Stephen’s “scortatory” in “Scylla and Charybdis,” from Latin scortor, to whore. During the writing of FW, especially the twenties, scandalously high hems signified, mainly, flappers. 434.33: “shorth of your skorth:” (too) short skirt 434.34: “before Gravesend is commuted:” before Gladstone is converted. In “Lotus-Eaters,” Bloom remembers Catholic prayers for Gladstone’s conversion. A long time - like, forever - considering Gladstone's stalwart Protestantism. (Given context, this probably involves Gladstone’s habit of picking up prostitutes and attempting to reform them.) On the other hand, if you keep behaving in this flaunting way, it will be hardly any time at all before a grave sin is commited. 434.35: “pulcherman:” Latin pulchra, beautiful. As an “Autist Algy” of the artists-and-models stamp, he pretends to be an aesthete but is really just interested in getting women to take their clothes off. 434.36: “Mr Smuth:” “Mr Smith” was proverbial pseudonym for men engaged in sexually disreputable activities, for instance when it came to hotel reservations. “Smut” gives this away. 435.1: “dallytaunties:” women taunting/tempting men into dalliances. “-taunties:” totties - slang for girlfriends - occurs in “An Encounter.” 435.1-2: “ciudad of Buellas Arias:” to my mind, this pretty much seals the deal for Hugh Kenner’s argument that “Eveline”’s Frank, trying to get Eveline to come with him to Buenos Aries, is up to no good. Buenos Aries was notorious as a center of the white slave trade. As Robert A. Day once remarked, Evelyn Waugh’s Lady Metroland is an example: the young women who come under her influence end up with one-way tickets to Buenos Aries. 435.1-2: “Buellas Arias:” beautiful songs, and singers of same 435.2: “playguehouse:” the plague, in a place whose name advertises good air – a classic FW equal-opposite. 435.6: “local esthetic:” see McHugh. As the opposite of a local anesthetic; not difficult to guess the location 435.10: “volses of lewd Buylan:” Blazes Boylan, Molly’s lover; he talks to her (with his voice), waltzes with her, sings with her, behaves “lewd”ly with her. 435.10-11: “phyllisophies:” “Phyllis” was a standard name for the woman in a pastoral love poem. Also, the sophistries of "Bussup Bulkeley," Bishop Berkeley 435.12-3: “There’s many the icepolled globetopper is haunted by the hottest spot under his equator:” perhaps obvious, even frat-boyish: white hair equals glacier at earth’s top (North Pole); phallic lust equals tropical heat in equatorial midsection. Variation of old saying, “Just because there’s snow on the roof doesn’t mean there’s no fire underneath.” “Topper:” top hat, signature of upper class and, at the time of FW’s writing, quite old-fashioned 435.15: “Moedl’s:" models, as in “artists and models,” Jaun’s obsession here. Compare 434.35 and note. 435.15: “Blue Danuboyes:” given painting context, probably an allusion to Gainsborough’s The Blue Boy. Also, following "volses" (.10), waltzing to The Beautiful Blue Danube, another way for couples to get too close to one another 435.17: “font:” font at front of a church (opposite to its “back” (.17)) – site of baptism, when the "old man," old Adam, is "Put off" (.16). 435.17: “the nutty sparker round the back:” a “backdoor Johnny:” a playboy hanging around the theatre’s back door, hoping to pick up an actress after the show. “Sparking” = anything from flirtation to intercourse. Seems incongruous for Jaun to be promoting Johnny’s cause; perhaps the idea is that the young sparker, proverbially well-off, would be better long-term investment than the old globetrotter. In any case, by this point his message is thoroughly mixed or muddled. 435.18: “Slip your oval out of touch:” 1. Don’t give him a chance to touch your vagina: compare oval "0" at first line of I.8, at tip of pubic delta. 2. The Oval was and is the name of a fashionable Dublin pub. (For most of Joyce’s time in Dublin, its owner was Phil Gilligan, mentioned three times in Ulysses (apparently as an old friend of Bloom’s) and possibly in FW as well (622.22).) 3. Given the rugby terms in the same line (see McHugh), “the Oval,” London’s cricket ground in Lambeth; it has also hosted rugby matches. A rugby ball is, three-dimensionally, ovoid. 4. Compare 395.26-396.2 for a similar combination of sexual and (association) football scrimmaging. 435.18: “Slip your oval out of touch and let the paravis be your goal:” given the previous entry, “paravis” ought to mean something like rugby uprights. In any case, Paravis is the name of a French convent. (Note “convert” in next line.) 435.18: “paravis:” 1. See 342.26 and note. Paradis is the name of a Persian well (as in "font" .17), as opposed to the frozen-up "icepolled" (.12) senior suitor, said to convey magical powers of inspired speech, and of the Persian princess who escapes an arranged marriage with an old man and joins her true love. In its earlier appearance, it is apparently paired with the Muslim paradise of seventy-two virgins. 2. Arriviste, perhaps Parisian. A reversed version of old suitor vs young suitor 435.19: “Up leather, Prunella, convert your try!:” more rugby talk: to “convert a try” means something like – for American football - kicking an extra point after a touchdown; “leather,” as in “Oxen of the Sun” (“Collar the leather, yungun”) is the ball. 435.19-20: “Stick wicks in your earshells:” like a female version of Odysseus’ crew sailing past the sirens. (Speaking of which, in the Ulysses chapter of that name Miss Kennedy, one of the resident sirens, will stick her fingers in her ears, later compared by Bloom to shells.) Also, overtone of Earwicker 435.20: “prompter’s voice:” from the prompter’s box during a play 435.22: “Rely on the relic:” you’re better off with the old man, as opposed to the (“boa” (.20)) boy. Exactly the opposite of the advice given at .17 435.23-4: “Keep early hores and the worm is yores Dress the pussy:” surely with sexual innuendo. See first entry for .25-6. "Worm," by the way, seems rather a comedown from the "boa" constrictor she's told to eschew (.20-1). 435.25: “Winkyland:” “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod:” children’s poem by Eugene Field 435.25-6: “See little poupeep she’s firsht ashleep. After sat your poetries and you know what happens when chine throws over jupan:” sounds cute, but note little-girl naughtinesses: poop and pee. (“Poetries:” potties? OED has “potty” as baby toilet first appearing as FW was being completed; as noted elsewhere, the time frame of improper language can be hard to pin down.) “Chine:” the “china chambers” of 45.28 are china chamberpots. “You know what:” compare 305 fn 3, where “what you know” is evidently a euphemism for shit. To “sit” something, as in “sit a horse,” is to sit on it, here, I suggest, on the pottery potty. Also, pots, made at potteries, are “thrown,” some pots are of ("chine") china, and can be “japanned” - lacquered. Also, this is a late entry from the late thirties, written when Japan was overthrowing much of China. 435.25-6: “firsht ashleep:” slurred language here perhaps mimics falling-asleep; compare Bloom at end of “Ithaca.” 435.26: “said your poetries:” said your prayers 435.27-9: “Go to doss with the poulterer…and shake up with the milchmand:” go to sleep with the poultry, the chickens – that is, at nightfall – and wake up with the milkman or milkmaid, at or before dawn. “Doss-house” and “shakedown” are both what Americans of the time would call flophouses. Also, probably overtone of porter/Porter 435.29: “The Sully van vultures are on the prowl:” Given ALP’s aversion to “Sully,” in one form or other, this is probably based on the Prayer to Saint Michael, seeking protection from evil spirits who “wander through the world for the ruin of souls.” It occurs twice in Ulysses and at least once elsewhere (222.22-3) in FW. In Joyce’s day it was recited after mass. Here, as a bedtime incantation, it invokes protection from evil spirits of the night. 435.30: “hailies fingringmaries:” “Hail Mary”’s ("-maries") as counted out by ("fing-) fingers on the rosary – the “-ring.” If I’m right in the preceding note, this would be a case of one prayer following another: hence the plural “poetries” of .26. 435.30: “Tobaccos tabu:” for women. Women who smoked were sometimes considered fast. 435.31-2: “Secret satieties and onanymous letters:” compare 464.27 and note. In 1909, Joyce and Nora sent decidedly onanistic letters to one another; Joyce made clear that he was masturbating while writing at least one of them. (Bloom has written similar letters to Molly and Martha; the former recalls that one of his letters “had me always at myself 4 and 5 times a day.”) Onanism is one way of secretly attaining satiety. (Again, the manual stimulation in this case seems to be mutual.) Also, overtone of sacred societies: Joyce, in some moods, was prone to describing sex as a sacrament. 435.31-2: “great unwatched:” see previous entry: onanism is, as a rule, performed when unwatched. Also, “great unwashed:” a derogatory term for common people. (Also an ironically exalted description of the young Joyce.) It was conventional wisdom that lower-order folk were morally superior to their licentious “betters.” Question: given that the expression originated in Thackeray’s Pendennis, is it coincidental that Thackeray appears on the previous page, at 434.26? 435.33: “paunchon:” “penchant” can be pronounced as rhyming either with “trenchant” or, as here, similar to a French-ish “bon chance.” As with “aunt,” one version may sound vulgar, the other pretentious. Jaun is opting for the latter. 435.33: “fagbutt:” in “Eumaeus,” means “fagend:” the remaining bit of a smoked cigarette, probably retrieved from the gutter. Here, the behavior described is not only infra dig but out of date – a relic of a once-fashionable vice. (But see second note to .30.) Goes with the other admonitions: however fashionable it is or was among young women, don't start smoking. 435.34-5: “Mr Tunnelly’s:” compare “Mr Tumulty” (261.19). 435.35: “lowcusses:” as in “Oxen of the Sun,” “cuss” is American slang for a disreputable person – literally “one who is cursed.” 435.35-6: “cockchafers:” obvious? 1. a species of beetle; 2. those who give hand jobs, probably for pay – although, on Bloomsday, for Nora with James Joyce, it was spontaneous and, crucially, unremunerated. Also, again: the stimulation in this encounter seems to be "meetual" (.28), mutual. 435.36: “vamps:” scarlet women 435.36: “with the end to:” with an end to: legalese: with the purpose of 436.2: “couvrefeu act:” femme couverte act, giving husband legal control over wife’s holdings 436.3: “wedge your steps:” wedgies: women’s shoes 436.4: “ramping:” romping 436.6-7: “And is that any place to be smuggling his madam’s apples up?:” compare note to 598.3. Also, as in Portrait, chapter one, "smugging" is childish sex-play. 436.8: “jade:” a hardened woman 436.11: “does be doing:” like “Begor” (.9) a stage-Irish idiom 436.12: “snakking svarewords like a nursemagd:” female equivalent of “swearing” – chattering swearwords – “like a sailor.” McHugh notes that “nurse” was slang for “whore.“ "Magd” is short for “Magdalen.” Again, Marge/Maggie, Issy’s attendant, is the cruder of the two. 436.13-14: “While there’s men-a’war on the say there’ll be loves-o’women on the do:” general sense is that there will always be women around to accommodate sailors when they come into port. Also, note counterpoint of alpha and omega (“a’war,” “o’women”), recapitulated in “say”ing and “do”ing. “Say” would be Irish pronunciation of “sea.” 436.14: “cisternbrothelly:” sister-and-brother-like: one of several indications on this page that for Jaun sexual love is acceptable only if more or less incestuish – though of course “cistern” and “brothel” indicate just the opposite. 436.15-6: “taken neat in the generable way upon retiring to roost:” “neat:” an alcoholic drink without ice, water, or mix, taken as a nightcap. At .22-3, he will (see McHugh) rule out mixed-drink cocktails, especially when drunk in public houses. “Roost:” following his rules, she would/should be like a domesticated bird, a hen or a pigeon. 436.15: “generable:” generally honorable 436.18: “canalized:” love/lust channeled into a socially approved course, i.e. marriage. Also, equal-oppositely, canaille. (See 173.2.) Goes with “love that leads by the nose” (.17-8): compare “Nausicaa,” Bloom on dogs: “dogs at each other behind.” Dublin’s canals were known as trysting sites for lovers. (Old joke: “The trees along the Royal Canal are more sinned against than sinning.”) Joyce’s first sexual experience with Nora was along one of Dublin’s canals. Compare note to .32-3. 436.19: “slugger’s liver:” a “sluggish liver," sometimes as a result of alcoholism, was believed to be the cause of dyspepsia, hypochondria, melancholia. A “slugger” is a clumsy boxer – someone who has probably taken many blows to the midriff, region of the liver. 436.20: “lessions:” lesions 436.21: “fetid spirits:” fermented spirits: liquor 436.21-2: “fetid spirits is the thief of prurities:” along with “purity” and “prurience,” “prurities” echoes “prudent” – etymologically, foreseeing. 426.22: “twenty rod cherrywhisks:” twenty-odd could be twenty-eight or twenty-nine – the leapyear girls, with or without Issy, with or without Marge. Overtone of Latin meretrix, prostitute 436.22-3: “rod…Coney:” retina’s rods and cones. Compare 404.10 and note. 436.24: “tight:” drunk 436.25: “by the stench of her fizzle:” by the state of her phiz, her face. Also, in Grose's A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, a frequent Joyce source, a "fizzle" is a woman's fart. 436.25-6: “the glib of her gab:” her (glib) gift of gab 436.27: “bally:” stage-English slang for bad, wretched 436.27: “billing sumday:” paying the sum of the bill, the morning after 436.30: “And beware how you dare of wet cocktails:” see second note to .15. 436.31-2: “or the same may see yur wedding driving home from your wake:” if you’re not careful, the day of your wedding may be the day of your death. Compare II.3, from 377.7 on, where a wedding, a hanging, and a funeral are interchangeable. Blake, in "London," "How the youthful Harlots curse / Blasts the new-born Infants tear / And blights with plague the Marriage hearse." 436.32: “Mades of ashens” Ash Wednesday service reminds communicants that they are made of dust. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust 436.32-3: “spoil the lad but spare his shirt:” reversal of: spare the rod and spoil the child 436.33: “spare his shirt:” compare Bloom’s “wet shirt” after masturbating in “Nausicaa.” In December 3, 1909 letter to Nora, Joyce recalls their first date, when she "pulled" his "shirt softly aside" and "frigged" him. She spared his shirt from getting wet. 436.33-4: “Lay your lilylike long his shoulder but buck back if he buts bolder:” when dancing with him, gracefully lay your lily-white hand on his shoulder but recoil from any butts, suggestive pelvic thrusts. (Equal-opposite: “buck back” can also mean to reply in kind.) 436.34: “just hep your homely hop and heed not horning:” homely hops: the kinds of rustic folk-dance step less conducive to close contact and its dangers, for instance “horning” (see previous entry): since at least the 17th century, “horn,” “horny,” etc. has signified phallic sexuality. (“Horn” clearly has this meaning in “Sirens.”) 436.35: “raise cancan:” raise Cain by dancing the can-can 436.36: “flail that tail:” the can-can concludes with dancers exposing their tails. If they make so bold as to do that, to flaunt their tails, he’ll flail them in turn. Once again: Jaun as sadomasochist is never far below the surface of Jaun as disciplinarian. 437.1 “girde your gastricks:” gird your loins – which would involve covering up your tails as well as your stomachs, with their gastric juices. 437.2-3: “gym…jazz:” Jim Joyce; compare 414.22-3. Also, the following will counterpoint gymnasium activities with dancing – to jazz, for instance. 437.3: “kick starts:” see McHugh. OED dates “kick-start,” for motorcycles, from 1916. See .3-7 and note: bicycles, but perhaps also motorcycles. Also – see 436.35 and note – more can-can 437.3: “jazz jiggery:” rightly or wrongly, “jazz” was thought to derive from “jism” – semen. Like jazz itself, the word was, originally, distinctly African-American, and “jiggery” probably incorporates an overtone of "jigaboo" and “niggery.” Compare note to .32. 437.3-7: “Bumping races on the flat and point to point over obstacles. Ridewheeling that acclivisciously up windy Rutland Rise and insighting rebellious northers before the saunter of the city of Dunlob. Then breretonbiking on the free with your airs of go-be-dee and your heels upon the handlebars:” compare Molly Bloom, in “Penelope:” “that old Bishop that spoke off the altar his long preach about womans higher functions about girls now riding the bicycle and wearing peak caps and the new woman bloomers.” Bloomers were adopted partly in response to preachings about the immodesty of women cyclists. North of the Liffey was and is generally considered the rowdier half of Dublin; the “rebellious” people of Northern Ireland, whether Catholics against the Crown or Protestants on behalf of the Crown and against the rest of Ireland, are probably also included. Rutland Square, at the northern end of O’Connell Street, is north of the city’s (“saunter”) center; if memory serves, it is appreciably more elevated (“Rise”) than the southern end; hence the “acclivity” in “acclivisciously.” “Saunter”ing is what Nora was doing, provocatively, when Joyce first saw her; compare 627.5. “Ridewheeling” and “free” supply the components for “freewheeling” – literally to coast on a bicycle, without using the pedals, figuratively to carry on without regard for the proprieties. “Airs:” arse, also as in “putting on airs,” also songs – in light of which, “go-be-dee,” as with the “g.b.d.” of 450.11 (see McHugh) are three notes in the musical scale. (In the standard treble-clef mnemonic they are “good boy does,” and the north of the city is, on a map, in the top, treble-clef, zone; “flat” is also, probably, a musical term.) Windiness (blowing up your skirts), bumps in the road (bumping up your skirts), above all riding with your heels on the handlebars, would certainly tend to incite the local boys, especially those from (“Rutland”), the land of rut, to in-sights – again - up your skirts. “Dunlob” combines Dublin with J. B. Dunlop, inventor of a type of bicycle tire in use at the time; it’s perhaps pertinent that his center of operation was in Belfast, “norther[n]s” Ireland. At 584.13 “dunlops” apparently signifies rubber condoms. 437.4: “on the flat and point to point:” horse-racing idioms. “Point to point” is a steeplechase; “on the flat” is not. The latter is contrasted with “over obstacles” (.4). 437.8: “Berrboel brazenness:” bar bell: the bicycle bell on the handlebar. Typically made of brass. “Brazen” in sense of brazen hussy; she’s ringing the bell to attract male attention. An instance, I suggest, of onomatopoeia 437.8: “corselage rib is decartilaged:” corsets were made of whalebones, presumably including cartilage. Also refers to rib from which Eve was made. In the next few lines, the ribs become the woman’s. 437.9: “visceral ptossis:” given that, as McHugh notes, “ptossis” = “prolapse of any viscera,” this would seem to be a natural result of removing the cartilage from the ribcage. (See previous entry, next entry.) Also a whalebone corset, if tightened too much, would exacerbate any such condition, including (see next) a “weak abdominal wall.” That is, it would be detrimental to digestion and excretion, as Jaun will duly go on to explain. 437.10: “the fads of your weak abdominal wall:” the fact of your weak will, leaving you prone to faddishness. “Abdominal” perhaps in sense of “guts” – character, (“wall”) will 437.11: “vinvin, vinvin:” sound of bicycle bell. Again, onomatopoeia. Also, paired i’s are an Issy signature – here, as usual, intended to attract male attention. 437.11: “in shorts:” begins sequence where Shaun is recommending gym workouts – hence the wearing of gym shorts - instead of cycling. Also: in short 437.12-3: “physicking exorcise to flush your kidneys:” “flushing the kidneys” is a standard medical exercise. “-Sick-” in “physicking:” coinciding, or intercalated, contraries 437.12: “exorcise:” healthy exercise promotes regular bowel movements, exorcising feces. Hence “flush” on same line 437.13: “move that twelffinger bowel:” McHugh has “Duodenum,” named for its length, but the word also indicates the (impressive) size of a bowel movement. 437.14: “inhibitating:” by inhabiting her intestine, the “threadworm” (.14) inhibits her bowel movements. 437.14: “lassy, and perspire freely:” a healthful result of the kind of exercise Jaun is recommending. On the other hand, the language may be marginally disrespectful - what might, in some settings, have been called taking a liberty. An old joke, around in Joyce’s time: horses sweat, gentlemen perspire, ladies glow. If they perspire, are they really ladies? But then perhaps all parties can agree that the girl – a “lassy” – is, due to her youth, not really ready to be called a lady in any case. 437.15: “and why out you go:” I suggest that “why” should be read as if set off by commas: “and, why, out you go!” He’s describing an ideally easy bowel movement. 437.15: “ostiary:” McHugh: a church doorkeeper. In context – on to the “dirt track” – also the anus, or lower intestinal progress to same 437.16: “dirt track:” 1. racing track, primarily for automobiles. 2. lower intestine 437.16: “skip!:” given context, skip rope – a popular exercise for gymnasts 437.16-7: “Deal with Nature the great greengrocer and pay regularly the monthlies:” possible allusion to Demeter, the Green Goddess, who for six months of every year was deprived of her daughter Persephone. More literally, regular, once-a-month menstrual discharges, in sync with regular, once-a-day bowel movements. 437.17: “Punt’s:” given context, probably “Cunt’s.” (See McHugh on “greengrocer,” same line.) Gaelic p/k split helps facilitate. 437.18: “reek of the rawny:” recalls two interactive passages in Ulysses, in “Proteus” and “Aeolus,” where Stephen recalls seeing a gipsy couple having sex; in “Aeolus” the scene is remembered as “reeking of hungry bread.” Here the reek comes from the “rawny,” as McHugh notes gipsy dialect for lady or wife. Compare 526.25: “rawkneepudsfrowse.” Context strongly suggests that the reek is mainly from her vagina; hence “Punt’s Perfume’s” (.17-8) – see previous note, and note to 436.25. 437.19: "eats:" slang for food 437.21-2: “that natural emotion:” that natural motion: again, of the bowels. “Nature” was once a common jokey euphemism for bowel movements, “Nature calls!” signalling a trip to the toilet. “Serutan,” a popular laxative, was advertised as “Natures” spelled backwards. 437.21-2: “bad eggs. Why so many puddings prove disappointing:” since British puddings proverbially include eggs (as in “to over-egg the pudding”) this may mean, equal-oppositely, either that many puddings disappoint because the eggs have gone bad, or that the eggs, having gone bad, are kept out of the mix, resulting in an under-egged pudding. “Bad egg” is also a familiar expression for a low-down character; also, of course synonymous with bad smell. (See entries for .18, 536.25.) 437.22: “Dietician:” 1. because the Edict of Diocletian attempted to regulate the prices of, among other things, different kinds of food; 2. because Joyce is noting, prophetically, the imperious regimens of food gurus. (There are already early signs in the “Lestrygonians” chapter of Ulysses.) 437.24: “elizabeetons:” then as now, beets were recommended by dieticians. 437.24-5: “teeth like the hippopotamians:” 1. The closest echo would seem to be “Mesopotamians.” (Neither, one presumes, the Mesopotamians nor, God knows, the Elizabethans were qualified to serve as models of exemplary dental care.) 2. A hippopotamus having its teeth picked by birds has long been a favorite example of natural symbiosis. (Compare 273.21-2.) 3. The last three syllables come close to “ptomaine” – that is, food poisoning 437.25-6: “Likewise if I were in your envelope shirt:” variant on: If I were in your shoes 437.26: “envelope shirt:” based on Google Images, a long, baggy woman’s shirt. (According to Oxford editors, “envelope” should be “unvelope.”) 437.26: “weathereye well cocked open:” figuratively, a weathercock is someone 1. acutely susceptible to current trends or 2. acutely alert to the main chance 437.27: “furnished lodgers:” as in, furnished lodgings 437.27-8: “furnished lodgers paying for their feed on tally with company and piano tunes:” they pay for or defray the rent by socializing agreeably and playing the piano. Given “feed,” “furnished” probably includes an overtone of “famished.” 437.27-30: “The too friendly friend sort, Mazourikawitch or some other sukinsin of a vitch:” an overly ingratiating foreigner, whose last name ends with “vitch” or something similar, therefore probably from middle/eastern Europe, land of Bohemians (see next entry), musicians (see entry after next) and cosmopolitan seducers, quite possibly (see entry for .32) Jewish. The spelling of “musik” (.32), is another clue: see note to .32. 437.30: “Pannonia:” corresponds approximately to area of Bohemia. The behavior Jaun goes on to warn against fits the 19th century idea of the Bohemian. 437.30: “on this porpoise:” once again (see 434.27), the Arion story. Probably relevant that Arion was a musician, like the sloothery pianist being warned against here. (Arion’s lyre was a forerunner of the modern piano; hence the anticipatory echo of “piano” in “Pannonia.”) Since (see previous entry) Bohemia is famously landlocked, one could not arrive from there by way of porpoise. (“Famously,” because of Shakespeare’s mistake, cited in “Scylla and Charybdis,” of assigning it a seacoast. Probably an example of Jaun’s muddledness.) 437.31: “whom sue stooderin about the maul and femurl artickles:” he’s a language student. As a foreigner, he’s still learning about the male and female articles of his new language; difficulties of pronunciation may account for his “stooderin” stutter. Interest in “maul”ing (i.e. roughly, feeling up) and in female articles (of clothing – especially since “femur” = femor = thigh) insinuate that he’s potentially a masher. 437.32: “mix himself so at home mid the musik:” social “at homes” sometimes included music. The attitude is indignantly sarcastic: I mean to say, he, the foreign interloper, makes himself so at home. The exaggerated Yiddishisms – “mix,” “mid,” “musik” (muzik is Yiddish for music) are strong indications that, as often, his dislike for (“MacShine MacShane” (.33)) Shem-types has an antisemitic component: Noah’s son Shem was the founder of the Semitic races. As usual, Shem is the musical one. 437.32-3: “spanks the ivory that lovely:” perhaps obvious: this fits with Jaun’s predilection for S & M, here being projected onto Shem. Woman’s white skin was commonly compared to ivory. (See, for instance 341.8-9: “ivory girl.”) “That lovely,” meaning “so prettily,” is, again, sarcastic, and probably a deliberate imitation of lower-order diction. 437.33: “Mistro Melosiosus:” Maestro; often used (here, again, sarcastically) to describe musician. “Melosiosus” (Latin melos: tune) fellows suit. 437.33: “MacShine:” “shine” was a derogatory term for an African-American, a type often represented as playing the piano. (In his brother’s jaundiced eyes, the Shem of FW often combines Shem with Ham, Jewish races with dark-skinned races.) To have him spanking the ivories (see .32 and note) introduces a hint of kinky miscegenation. 437.35: “years of rain:” rainy days, stretched to years: what she has to look forward to, if he falls for “Mistro Melosiosus MacShine MacShane.” 437.35: “whilst Jaun is from home:” if she fools around with Shem types while Jaun, like Odysseus, is away from home. Also, being from home, he is the domestic boy (now man) next door, as contrasted with the Bohemian Shem. 438.2: “calfloving:” his advances begin by fondling her calf. 438.2-3: “his forte paws in your bodice after your billy doos twy:” the bodice was a popular hiding place for (McHugh) billet-doux, in this case veiled behind the (“modesties” (.4)) modesty, glossed by McHugh as “a slight covering for a low-cut neck.” Jist: the cad is pretending to look for it as an excuse for pawing her breasts, of which there are of course (“doos”) two. 438.5: “forte paws:” “forte:” the loud half of “pianoforte,” hence heavy-handed. (Possibly also “forty paws” – he is, as the saying goes, all hands, pawing her body.) “Paws” also reflects sarcastically on his skill as a pianist: contrast 437.32-3. 438.6: “stray and split:” as in “Circe,” to “split” is to run away and defect to the other side. “Stray” echoes “try.” “Split” may have sexual implications – spreading her legs – extending to Issy’s divided (respectable Issy vs. disreputable Marge) personality. In “Circe” Bloom calls women “The cloven sex.” 438.7: “get thick:” get an erection. Compare 111.36. 438.7: “play pigglywiggly:” “This little piggy went to market…,” here apparently applied not to her toes but to an escalating inventory of her body 438.8: “bilgetalking:” talking bilge – here, romantic rubbish. Examples follow: see next entry. 438.9-10: “your glad neck and the round globe and the white milk and the red raspberries:” "Glad neck" is identified by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 2022) as an open collar - here provocatively open. Masher’s progress, from “neck”ing to breasts, prettified with romantic afflatus. “Raspberries” are nipples. The succeeding “prying” (10-12) will extend down to and up into her vagina. “Strawberries and cream” was a popular epithet for the ideal complexion of young womankind: compare 64.26-8. “Raspberries” for strawberries is a faux pas. Again, Jaun, trying to demonstrate his familiarity with modern slang, is off the mark. He may be thinking of some kind of ice cream sundae, but a round white bosom with yummy red nipples is what comes through. 438.11-2: “up to our past lives:” like Ulysses, FW entertains the possibility of reincarnation and other recyclings. Fingering her vagina, the masher is “up to” the place where past lives begin their returns as new lives. 438.12: “sing:” sin 438.13: “squitting on the Tubber Nakel, pouring pitchers” squatting naked over a tub: a birthing position. Shaun’s hypothecated seducer is imagined as having gotten her “pregnant” (.11). Birthing accounts perennially involve large amounts of hot water; the expression “breaking water” may be part of the picture as well. 438.13-4: “pouring pitchers to the well:” old proverb: the pitcher that goes too often to the well will eventually be broken. (Many verbal variants, but “pitcher” and “well” are constants.) See next entry. 438.13-4: “pouring pitchers to the well for old Gloatsdane’s glorification:” Genesis 24: Rebecca at the well, supplying pitchers of water for Abraham’s servant and camels. “Old Gloatsdane’s:” Abraham is definitely old, and in Genesis 27:4 the “savoury meat” he requests is from “two good kids of the goats.” It is this meat which Jacob serves to Abraham while pretending to be Esau. Also, Gladstone, the old (“Grand Old Man;” again, in Ulysses a congregation is recalled praying for his deathbed conversion), is included because of his practice of picking up prostitutes from the streets and attempting to reform them in person – a version of FW’s old lecher/young temptress theme. This accounts for echo of “old goat” – which, given the age at which he became a father, might be applied to Abraham as well. 438.14-5: “the postequities of the Black Watch, peeping private from the Bush and Rangers:” revisits the park scandal, from the young woman’s point of view. The soldiers are witnessing whatever untoward is going on, and, in the lines to follow, as in I.2-3, will soon begin publicizing it. “Black Watch” because they’re watching and it’s night; “peeping” – peeing – because urination is usually involved; “private” because it’s private, they’re privates, and they’re observing private parts. 438.16: “talker-go-bragk:” compare “Circe:” Talk away till you’re black in the face” - what the “local busybody” (.16) is doing, to her fellow scandal-mongers. Also, version of "Erin go Bragh," Ireland forever. 438.16-7: “Off of that praying fan on to them priars:” fane = church. So is (“Tubber Nakel” (.15)) - a tabernacle. A (“priar”) prior is a high religious official. As in I.1-2, the clergy, beginning with the confession-box words of a witness, is instrumental in spreading the rumor. 438.17: “priars:” in FW, sound-alikes to “priars” usually signify the pliers/forceps of a forceps delivery – the “prongs” of 628.5. (In “Oxen of the Sun” they are called “the surgeon’s pliers.” It is probably pertinent that Tristram Shandy, one contributor to FW’s Sir Tristan/Tristam, has had a forceps delivery.) Here, a component of the pregnancy-delivery story: see note to .13. 438.17-31: “It would be…lamplight:” gist: it would be bad for you if the scandal were widely publicized – by gossip columnists, for instance - thus diminishing your marriage-market prospects, especially during this “marriage slump” (.21-2). 438.18-21: “redcolumnists…shoot you private:” The main story here is gossip columnists spreading stories about you, but columns are military formations as well as newspaper items, and a “private” is a soldier. In some versions of the park scandal (including the first: 7.34-5) the soldiers stage an ambush with guns. 438.19-20: “(I’m keepsoaking them to cover my concerts):” either/both: 1. I’m cultivating them, the columnists, so that they’ll give my performances good reviews; 2. I’m keeping their nice reviews in my keepsake album. Well before Joyce’s time, Victorian keepsake albums, as in “Nausicaa,” had come to signify sugary sentimentality. In one instance, George Eliot used the word “keepsakey” to describe an excessively flattering portrait of Dickens. Compare next entry. 438.19: “Puff:” in journalese, to “puff” something was to publish a flattering notice. In “Aeolus,” Bloom secures promise of a “par[agraph]” as a puff for his client. 438.20: “balloons:” captions for cartoons 438.22: “oil age:” the age of oil millionaires (for instance Rockefeller) who among other things can pick and choose among a host of willing young women. The phrase seems apt for the 20th century, following history’s “Iron Age” and “Bronze Age.” 438.22: “three shillings a pint:” at no point in FW’s composition would this have been a reasonable price. A pint of Guinness was twopence in the Irish pubs of 1904 and three shillings sixpence in 1967. (It would have been out of line for oil, too.) 438.22: “pulexes:” compare Boylan on the shopgirl in “Wandering Rocks:” “A young pullet.” 438.22-3: “wives at six and seven:” besides (McHugh) “at sixes and sevens,” meaning all mixed up, six shillings and seven pence. Given the “marriage slump,” wives these days are going at not much better than a dime a dozen. 438.23: “belame par:” below par (for the course) 438.23-4: “newlaids bellow mar:” below market value. “Newlaids” are eggs, of course, but also recently deflowered wedding-night virgins (compare 434.17; earliest OED example for “laid” in this sense is from 1934) – not fetching the same prices they once did. (At 232.15, the woman’s message to an alternative suitor that “she’s marrid” means she’s both married and marred, from having lost her virginity.) Also, unwanted newborn babies – again, a dime a dozen. 438.24-5: “twenty twotoosent time…march:” your annotator is on record as believing that FW is set on March 21 and the morning of March 22. Set after midnight, this scene would be on the 22nd. 438.25: “slack march:” given context, probably an echo of black market 438.30: “detestificated:” detested, de-testes-ed, someone whose detestable behavior, in this case “unleckylike intoxication” (.26), has been testified to. 438.32: “(you see, I am well voiced:” in other words, he knows all about the latest disreputable slang, the masher’s (“idiot” (438.7)) idiom – words like “swankies,” for instance. Compare .9-10 and note. 438.33: “collion boys:” college boys – the type to use words like “swankies.” 438.35: “lucky duff:” phrase: lucky duffer. Also (see .36) Duff Gordon - or Duff-Gordon – was the name of a fashionable family of the Edwardian aristocracy. Cosmo Duff-Gordon and his wife, Lady Lucy Duff-Gordon, survived the Titanic sinking, which certainly made them “lucky duff”s, although Cosmo was later accused of cowardice. See next entry. 438.36: “gay gordons:” the highland clan of the name was commonly called “the Gay Gordons.” Trust me on this one. 438.36: “dosed:” to have contracted venereal disease – hence “doctored” (439.1) 438.36: “dosed, doctored:” given the preceding “college swankies” and “collion boys,” this probably indicates university “docents” and Ph.D.s. 439.1: “messing around skirts:” a skirt-chaser, perhaps with side-glance at the kilts worn by the Scots clans just mentioned. 439.1: “fickling:” fickle 439.3. “dancer years:” not a regular expression, but by contrast with the common “My dancing days are done” (occurs in “Sirens”) can be taken to signify the bypast years of youth and courtship 439.6-14: “Or may…joy!:” a fanciful genealogy of Jaun as barrel, with a distinctly Irish cast. Some of the liaisons seem incongruous, for instance that Swift “inspired” Gladstone, and it is not clear to me why Jaun, the latest in the line, should be so hostile to the lot of them, unless the reason is that the upshot includes his equal-opposite twin brother as well as himself. Gist, more or less: “Maledictions” on someone (perhaps St. Valentine, see third entry for .7) for persuading the “foster mother” of Issy/ALP to fall for a (“trumpadour”) troubadour singing (badly) Thomas Moore’s songs, that trumpadour in one version being the daft and dour Jonathan Swift, infatuated with his Stella, with the (somehow) result that Gladstone felled the tree (usually, in FW, Parnell) which the barrel-making (see McHugh) “Cooper” “planed” into the “flat” slat of the beer barrel that went to make me, although before then that same slat was outrageously contaminated by being the seat of an old man behaving indecently with a sweet young thing. 439.7: “Lousyfear:” fear of lice 439.7: “Lousyfear fall like nettlerash:” lice bites feeling like nettlerash. At .22-3 he will have “spirts of itchery outching out from all over me” – insect bites, plus the fermented contents of the barrel seeping and spurting through its cracks. 439.7: “the white friar’s father:” Dublin’s Whitefriars Church includes a shrine to St. Valentine. 439.8: “converted from moonshine:” nonsense – either heretical (she was converted “from,” out of it, to Christianity) or romantic (she was converted “from,” by means of it, into an indiscreet love affair). The first sense may bring in another prominent Irishman, St. Patrick. 439.8-9: “the first nancyfree:” compare the juvenile ALP of I.8, “innocefree” and “Nance the Nixie” (204.19, 203.21). 439.8: “nancyfree:” nance or nancy: an effeminate man, probably homosexual. 439.9-10: “trumpadour that mangled Moore’s melodies:” dour: sour, depressive – a word often applied to Scots (recently prominent in the catalogue) and, again, apt for Swift. Someone of a dour disposition would certainly not be the one to do justice to Moore’s songs. Neither, for that matter, would a trumpeter: “mangled” can mean flattened-out as well as wrecked, and at one stage in the sequence a tree is “planed” “flat,” perhaps as music as well as wood. It seems a good bet that the Moore song in question is “The Young May Moon” (in Ulysses the one being sung by Molly and Boylan when they reached their adulterous understanding, and compare 318.13-4 and note), in which the lover keeps a “star-watch” on his stellar beloved; compare the next entry. 439.10: “stardaft:” star-struck. As McHugh notes, the context is Swift’s Journal to Stella: the writer is daft for Stella, a star, and Swift was later believed to have gone daft in the sense of being clinically insane. 439.11: “finisher:” given context, a furniture finisher 439.13: “grandydad’s lustiest:” grandad’s last 439.13-4: “grandydad’s lustiest sat his seat of unwisdom with my tante’s petted sister for the cause of his joy:” compare “Aeolus:” “He is sitting with a sweet thing, Myles Crawford said, in a child’s frock.” A version of FW’s old man – young woman (or girl) theme. Depending on which side of the family she came from, his (“tante’s”) sister could be his mother, which could make her his grandfather’s daughter – in any case, a younger female. Since the seat of wisdom is traditionally the head, the lap, the “lustiest” (“sat”) seat, where she is seated, would, as the seat of unwisdom, be the groin – a variant on FW’s frequent oppositional pairing of the body’s two main nerve bundles. “Petted,” in Joyce’s time, had its contemporary meaning of being fondled. 439.15: “Poof!:” as the barrel sinks, it starts blowing out bubbles. 439.16: “As broad as its lung:” As broad as it’s long: i.e. six of one, half a dozen of the other 439.17: “vaux:” voice 439.17: “Venerable Val Vousdem:” Val Vousden was born in 1821 and died in 1906. A later Irish entertainer, William McNevin (1885-1951) adopted the name in his honor. 439.18: “If my jaws must brass away:” some barrel hoops are made of brass. 439.19: “And the topnoted delivery you’d expected be me invoice!:” you’d expect, according to prior documentation, that I’d be able to hit the top note. 439.22: “spirts of itchery:” besides “spirits,” which can be either good or evil, “spirt,” meaning ejaculation, occurs in Victorian-Edwardian pornography. “Itchery:” lechery. Also, see 430.17 and note, for how the “spirts” might be from all over the body, as if itchily seeping through pores. 439.22: “itchery:” witchery 439.22-3: “outching:” see second note to .7. The escaping contents coming through the barrel’s growing gaps both itch and hurt: Ouch! Again, witches were accused of causing pains and pangs in different parts of the body; see entry for .23. 439.23-4: “the sludgehummer’s force in my hand:” the powerful grip of (see McHugh) a lobster’s claw. He may have inherited it from his father, Earwicker/earwig: an earwig, like a lobster, is an arthropod, and sometimes in FW (e.g. 31.8) the former is a miniature of the latter. 439.23: “sludgehummer’s:” a sledgehammer, or at least a hammer, would be used to hammer a barrel together, and to keep it in one piece when the staves started to loosen; see 404.20 and note. Also, given the context, the book Malleus Maleficarum, that is Hammer of Witches, widely employed in persecuting those accused of witchcraft; he has already accused them of having “a few devils in you” (.5) and threatened “the maledictions of Lousyfear” (.7). 439.23-4: “outching:” again, witches were accused of causing pains and pangs in different parts of the body. 439.26: “in perfect leave:” “Perfect love casteth out fear:” 1 John 4:18. During Joyce’s lifetime, The phrase “perfect love” appeared almost exclusively in religious writings. 439.27-8: “Jaun, first of our name:” again, Joyce’s father was named John, and so was the father’s firstborn child, whose early death made James the first of the family’s children. 439.28: “make all receptacles of:” as in, “For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful." 439.29: “if they tingle:” ears, the “receptacles” of .28 – traditionally a sign that someone somewhere is talking about you. Also, Jaun the singer wants to activate his listeners’ ears. 439.29-30: “No cheekacheek with chipperchapper, you and your last mashboy and the padre in the pulpbox enumerating you his nostrums:” again, listen to me when I’m singing. Don’t be distracted by necking, or dancing cheek to cheek, or being cheeky with your latest chap, or with the masher you were involved with previously, and don’t heed the palaver of the priest, either from the pulpit or the confession box. As in “Oxen of the Sun,” “nostrums” means self-advertising platitudes. In general, Joyce’s writings, public and private, reveal suspicions that priests use their sacerdotal powers to inveigle women. “Pulpbox” probably signifies vagina: compare Wycherly’s The Country Wife, where “to preach in your pulpit” is to have sex. 439.32: “to belave black on white:” not only believe that black is white, but whitewash (“-lave”) black into white 439.35: “Tome Plyfire:” a book - tome - in the fire 439.35: “Perousse:” either Larousse or Petit Larousse, being perused 439.36: “instate:” corpses of dignitaries are said to be lying “in state.” Possibly as well an echo of “intestate” 439.36: “verile organ:” a truth-telling penis. (In other contexts, would be a rara avis.) 439.36: “ethelred:” unread(y) 440.1: “verilatest:” “Very latest!” – a staple of newspaper headlines, of the sort which follow 440.1-2: “Arsdiken’s:” arse, dick: more sexual innuendo. (Surely one of this chapter’s defining features) 440.3: “despite the castle bar:” equal-opposite: 1. These publications are still available in spite of the fact that The Castle, center of Anglo-Irish authority, would probably like to ban them; 2. These publications are still available despite the fact of the Battle of Castlebar, which, had it been followed up with further rebel victories, would have removed The Castle altogether. 440.4-5: “cathalogue…labronry:” library catalogue 440.4-5: “he’ll give you a riser on the route to our nazional labronry:” see McHugh’s note: “[William] Archer encouraged J in early days.” He helped him on his way to being part of the national literature. 440.5: “nazional labronry:” perhaps obviously, “Nazi” goes with the book-burning theme in the immediate vicinity. O Hehir has “labronry” as a variant Celtic word for “book.” 440.5-6: “Through Hell with the Papes:” “Papists” as well as “Popes.” Goes with Dante (same line), a Papist if ever there was one, who went through hell in The Inferno. 440.6: “(mostly boys):” i.e. for boy readers because the word “Hell” might be too much for girls. Later, fairy tales are “Chiefly girls” (.21). 440.7: “a quip in a quire arisus aream:” not disagreeing with McHugh here, except to point out the sarcasm: one quip per quire (twenty-five pages) would be a pretty quipless stretch, one laugh per ream (five hundred pages) would be excruciating. 440.8: “pious fiction:” compare common expression “pious fraud,” present in “Lotus-Eaters” 440.8-15: “Swear aloud…Cost:” in general, Jaun in this sentence is promoting penitentially meatless diets, either for Lent or for other fasting days. I don’t understand how “Percy Wynns” (.9) evidently a reference to Percy Wyndham Lewis, fits in, but see next entry. (Lewis hated his first name and attacked Joyce in print, so perhaps this is just random payback.) 440.9: “Percy Wynns:” Parson Weems, author of pious fictions about George Washington. 440.9: “Carnival:” comes just before Lent – e.g. Mardi Gras. The following recommended diet sounds pretty Lenten. 440.12: “censered:” censed, with incense 440.11: “Their Graces of Linzen and Petitbois, bishops of Hibernites:” Linz: town and district of Austria. Maybe just a coincidence that Hitler grew up there, despite "nazional" (.5). A bishopric; bishops are addressed as “Your Grace.” 440.13: “best sells:” as books, best sellers 440.13: “for expansion on the promises:” the food (“Linzen and Petitbois” (.12)), lentils and small peas (see McHugh) are for consumption on the premises. 440.17: “Mrs Trot, senior, and Manoel Canter, junior and Loper de Figas:” three kinds of horse-speed: trot, canter, lope. Also (see McHugh) Loper de Vigas: lover of cunts 440.20: “Egg Laid by Former Cock:” the ex-cock has been changed into a hen, capable of laying eggs. Also, Fannie Farmer’s Cook Book, a domestic standard at the time, gave instructions on, among other things, cooking eggs. 440.20: "Flageolettes:” flageolet: a tin flute 440.21-2: “Send Fanciesland:” St. Francis’s land would be Assisi. 440.21: “Chiefly girls:” whatever innuendoes may lurk, the titles just cited would, on the surface, be suitable for young girls – though to be sure they include a desire to flagellate them. 440.22: “lives of our saints and saucerdotes:” The Lives of the Saints. Different books by this name; the likeliest is by Rev. Alban Butler. 440.22: “saucerdotes:” sacerdotes (McHugh) are priests. 440.22: “vignettes:” in the sense of small illustrations in the text 440.23-4: “bittermint of your soughts:” besides bettering your thoughts, making your “soughs” – sighs – more bitter. A number of medicinal herbs, including “horehound,” are classified as “bitter mints.” Also, mints are often taken to sweeten - make better - one's breath. 440.25: “schizmatics:” given context, asthmatics 440.25-6: “a hemd in need:” a helping hand 440.26-7: “art powder:” part of Issy’s makeup 440.30: “breaches:” breach(es) of promise. 440.31: “mouthshine:” a mouth shiny with lipstick 440.32-4: “Sooner than part with that vestalite emerald of the first importance, descended to me by far from our family, which you treasure up so closely where extremes meet:” Oxford editors have "closely in the sanctuary where extremes meet." Compare Laertes warning Ophelia against “open”ing her “chaste treasure” to Hamlet’s “unmastered importunity.” “Where extremes meet” is where the legs come together. Emerald, perhaps, because green, thus signifying youth and Ireland. “Of the first importance” reflects “of the first water,” a term applied to diamonds 440.35: “mozzed lesmended:” expression: less/least said, less/least mended. Also, according to Joyce's Notebook X, morzhed and (perhaps) esmaeañ, Breton for, respectively, "thigh" and "to excite, to rouse." Jaun is excitedly cautioning the girls to guard their vaginas, where "extremes" - that is, the thighs - "meet." 440.35-6: “let the whole ekumene universe belong to merry Hal:” expression: Let the heavens fall, so that justice be done. In this case, justice means going to hell. 440.36-441.1: “do whatever his Mary well likes:” do whatever he bloody (Mary) well likes 441.1: “hornets-two-next:” hornets’ nest: stirring up big trouble 441.5: “underclothed:” undisclosed 441.6: “forstake me knot:” do not deflower me. Knot = virgin knot. “Stake:” see The Merchant of Venice, III.2, 248 441.6: “ope:” again, Laertes to Ophelia: ”your chaste treasure ope to his unmastered importunity” 441.7-23: “Blesht…Shone:” much of this sequence relates to the proverbial voraciousness of pregnant women. 441.7-8: “Blesht she that walked with good Jook Humphrey for he made her happytight:” A mishmash, mainly biblical. The BVM is “blessed among women.” Several patriarchs, especially Noah, are said to have “walked with the Lord.” A “juke” is a brothel or roadhouse. In the latter capacity, it would have made her “tight” in the sense of drunk. In the former, it would have made her pregnant, with newly “tight”-fitting clothes, but, because she will be the mother of God, happy. (As in Ulysses, Joyce enjoys speculating about how the BVM really got pregnant.) Still, she’s blushing about the whole business. Dining with Duke Humphrey – that is, not dining at all – would give one (“happytight”) an appetite. 441.8-9: “all the dripping you can dumple to:” some recipes for dumplings call for dripping; one such recipe goes by the name of “dripping dumpling.” She’d want something like that after dining with Duke Humphrey (see previous entry); at .16-7 she’s still keen on lunch, on pie-making. Tumble to: fall for. 441.9-10: “in these lassitudes:” the idea seems to be that people in northern latitudes – Ireland, for instance – need to put on layers of fat against the cold. Also, echo of “lass” 441.10-11: “what stuck to:” i.e. the name – Dripping – stuck to her. Hence, as an international star, she is now sometimes known as (.13) “La Dreeping” in France and “Die Droopink” in Germany. (Compare for instance, “La Duse.”) Also, “stuck to” in the sense of food which “sticks to the ribs” and, by extension, anything in one’s education or upbringing which continues to matter 441.11: “Cantilene:” smooth-flowing melodic line 441.11-2: “while she was sticking out Mavis Toffeelips to feed her soprannated huspals:” a variant of the Arrah-na-Pogue story: feeding her husband with food from her lips. “Toffeelips,” a play on “toffeenose,” toff, recalls Molly’s “gumjelly lips” in “Lestrygonians” (see also 444.22), but the context suggests animal fat. In “Circe,” Zoe’s lipsticked lips are, accurately enough, “smeared with salve of swinefat and rosewater.” 441.12: “soprannated:” given musical context, soprano 441.14: “the inimitable:” an epithet sometimes applied to extraordinary actors or performers. Dickens was called “The Inimitable,” but the context doesn’t suggest his presence here. 441.15-6: “mouthpull of white pudding:” see McHugh: a white pudding is a sausage. To “pull off” someone is to masturbate them, here combined with fellatio. 441.16-7: “lunchlight in her eye:” again, because she’s hungry. The kind of phenomenon at work in most of "Lestrygonians:" while hungry, Bloom tends to see everything as food. 441.17: “when you pet the rollingpin write my name on the pie:” pie crust is made with a rollingpin. 441.18: “Guard that gem:” see notes above to 440.32-4 and .6. 441.19: “The jewel you’re all so cracked about:” Again, Bloom on women: “The cloven sex.” Also, crazy. In this case the “gem” in question is a diamond engagement ring. See note above to 433.15. 441.21: “there’s flitty few of them gets it for there’s nothing now but the sable stoles and a runabout to match it.” Resembles Cole Porter's "Most guys today / That women prize today / Are just silly gigolos." The general sense seems to be that all the courtship going on nowadays is between rich playboys and party girls, with marriage seldom in the offing. A “flitty” woman is inconstant; a “runabout” was a sporty car associated with the fast set; also, of course a romantically undependable man or woman. 441.23: “She. Shoe. Shone:” countdown: three, two, one 441.24-30: “Divulge, sjuddenly jouted out hardworking Jaun, kicking the console to his double and braying aloud like Brahaam's ass, and, as his voixehumanar swelled to great, clenching his manlies, so highly strong was he, man, and gradually quite warming to her (there must have been a power of kinantics in that buel of gruel he gobed at bedgo) divorce into me and say the curname in undress:” “divorce” parallels and restates “Divulge.” Shaun wants to know the blackguard’s name. A comma after “bedgo)” (.29) would have helped. 441.24: “sjuddenly:” S.J., for a Jesuit 441.24-5: “kicking the console to his double and braying aloud like Brahaam’s ass:” a console is a cabinet for an organ, television, or radio – in this case, probably the last. By some means or other, Shaun is kicking up the volume, doubling the noise. The result resembles the sound of a braying ass. 441.25: "Brahaam’s ass:” Brahms wrote chorales for the organ. Even with the volume doubled, it's hard to imagine how anyone could compare his music to the braying of an ass. 441.26: “clenching his manlies:” grabbing (clutching) his testicles, as used to be required for testifying. Also, clenching his fists, in preparation for the manly art of self-defense 441.27: “highly strong:” high-strung. Musically, would go with a tenor. Tightly-strung strings on an instrument would result in a higher pitch. 441.29: “gobed:” gobbled 441.29: “gruel:” in “Penelope,” Molly compares semen to gruel. 441.29-32: “curname…lapwhelp…sleevemongrel:” allusions to Shem as Parisian “canaille,” dog. Same, perhaps, for “buel of gruel” (.28-9), dog’s bowl of gruel. In melodramas of a certain age, “cur” is an automatic epithet for any man who toys with a woman’s affections. 441.30: “if you get into trouble with a party:” “in trouble,” meaning pregnant but not married, was current in Joyce’s time. 441.31: “lapwhelp:” lapwing. Given that Shaun at the moment is feeling exceptionally he-mannish, the “lapwing” in question may be the foppish and epicene Osric, the "lapwing" who annoys Hamlet. (Shakespeare's proximity (.33-4) ups the odds.) A “whelp” is a puppy. 441.32-3: “he tuck you to be a roller:” the context indicates that “roller” = loose woman. The Urban Dictionary gives this definition, but doesn’t specify any date, and I can’t find confirmation elsewhere. Joyce may be thinking of the Elizabethan equivalent, “round-heeled.” At 615.20-1, ALP remembers that her husband-to-be first saw her “on the top of the longcar, as merrily we rolled along.” Also, possible echo of “stroller,” meaning gypsy. In all variants, implies he took her to be, as the saying went, game for a go. 441.33-4: “saxopeeler…chigs peel:” compare “Scylla and Charybdis:” “Saxon Shakespeare.” (Oxford editors have “peek” for “peel.”) See next entry. 441.34-5: “roundlings:” given Shakespeare’s proximity, groundlings. 441.35: “glass and dough:” “dough” is American for money. Jaun is indignant that the seducer thought he could ply her with a drink and an offer of money. 441.36-442.2: “without taking out his proper password from the eligible ministriss for affairs with the black fremdling, that enemy of our country:” gist: without following through and marrying her officially. The “black fremdling” – both friend and (McHugh) stranger – would be the Protestant minister officiating, wearing black - from the Catholic Jaun’s point of view, an enemy. (Catholic priests wear black, but not while presiding over a service.) 442.1: “affairs:” non-condoned sexual relationships; the term was current. 442.2-3: “I don’t care a tongser’s tammany hang:” Stephen in “Circe:” “Doesn’t matter a rambling damn.” 442.5: “constantineal:” continental, as contrasted with Jaun’s Irishness. Again, identifies his blackguard brother as the culprit 442.6: “like enoch:” like enough: 1. probable 2. similar to. Together: probably resembling. As Enoch, son of Cain, he would have been Adam’s nephew. 442.6: “townmajor:” town mayor 442.8: “Uncle Remus:” American black slave in Joel Chandler Harris’ stories 442.8-9: “Old Father Ulissabon Knickerbocker:” Dietrich (Father) Knickerbocker was the pen name for Washington Irving and came to be a personification of New York City; hence a York to be paired with (“lanky sire” (.9)) Lancashire. Along with Uncle Remus (see previous entry), another distinctively American item 442.11-3: “as home we come to newsky prospect from west the wave on schedule time (if I came any quicker I’ll be right back before I left):” probably a conceit based on the International Date Line: Magellan crossed it heading west and, after his death, his crew wound up arriving home one day later than the ship’s log showed; if one were to reverse the direction (coming “from west”) at a fast enough speed one would theoretically arrive home yesterday. Bloom speculates along such lines in “Lotus-Eaters.” Again, according to Joyce, Jaun is heading backwards in time. 442.11: “newsky prospect:” in keeping with the ocean-sailing strain, they see a new sky, in prospect. 442.12: “from west the wave:” either on the western wave or from west of the wave – in either case, he’s imagining himself as sailing to Petrograd/St. Petersburg “with Brendan’s mantle whitening” (.14), that is, from the Atlantic, a.k.a. “Brendan’s herring pool” (213.35-6). 442.14: “mantle whitening:” version of descriptions of whitecaps or foam “mantling” the sea. Compare Stephen in “Telemachus:” “Inshore and farther out the mirror of water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet.” 442.15-6: “March’s pebbles spinning from beneath our footslips to carry fire and sword:” March is Mars’s month, for war, waged, according to many accounts, “with fire and sword” - by soldiers, in the story of Deucalion and Pyrrha, metamorphosed from stones, here "pebbles." Glasheen notes several other references to the story; for instance, at 20.32 (“pyrrhique”) Pyrrha is combined with “a French war-dance.” Jaun is somewhat hysterically promising to bring an army with him to beat up on the “insister” who toyed with his “sister” (.18, 17) - in melodramas of this sort, traditionally the role assigned to the brother of the wronged maiden. Compare Polly's brother in "The Boarding House:" see entries for .28-9, .31. 442.20: “Muffed!:” to muff something is to fail or perform clumsily. Mainly an athletic term, but can also apply to the classroom. Jaun is saying that Issy has muffed the quiz. 442.24: “balm of Gilead:” traditional African-American spiritual 442.24: “Gaylad:” gay (sporting, party-going) lad. (Obvious?) 442.25: “chancetrying my ward’s head:” in 19th century bare-knuckles boxing, to have an opponent “in chancery” was to have his head wedged under your arm, so that you could punch it at will. 442.27: “Blonderboss:” compare 429.18: “butterblond warden of the peace, one comestabulish Sigurdsen:” the manservant has Scandinavian origins and is sometimes blond. Although normally a menial, as a constable he would be the “boss” of the kind of scene Jaun is imagining. 442.27: “Ohibow:” Oh boy: an Americanism 442.28-9: “compensation:” what Mrs Moony in “The Boarding House” calls “reparation” – i.e. marriage – for the loss of her daughter’s virginity. Much of the following is reminiscent of the role that Polly Moony’s brother plays in the transaction – that of what Bloom in “Circe” calls the “Bulldog on the premises,” the enforcer. 442.31: “Open the door softly, somebody wants you, dear:” compare the penultimate line of “The Boarding House:” “Come down, dear, Mr. Doran wants to speak to you.” 442.31-2: “You’ll hear him calling you:” “I Hear You Calling Me” was a one of John McCormack’s signature songs. See next note. 442.32-3: “in the muezzin of the turkest night:” in the middle of the darkest night – midnight. McCormack's “I Hear You Calling Me” remembers a lovers’ meeting at night. Also, of course, a ("turkest"/Turkish) muezzin, calling out last prayers. Also, probably, the tradition, recorded in Rousseau's Confessions, that such prayers could be accompanied by injunctions that Muslim husbands have sex with their wives: in the follow-up, some voice, female or imitation-female, promises to ""stiffen your scribeall," etc. 442.33: “Come on now, pillarbox!:” again, addressed to the manservant, who should be supplying the muscle but is still drunk. In the dark, the upper end of a waterside post or piling (see 429.20 and note) might plausibly resemble a pillarbox. 442.33-4: “I’ll stiffen your scribeall, broken reed!:” As writing implement, a broken reed would be naturally inclined to produce a scribble. Jaun promises/threatens to straighten it out. Again, he seems to be imagining a woman, either Issy or based on Issy, speaking provocatively to a man. Compare the prostitute in "Circe," promising to "stiffen" a customer's "middle leg." 442.34: “broken reed:” a weak or broken reed signifies unreliable support from an ally. 442.35: “sleuts:” sleuths, sluts. Again, in light of “coomb,” on the same line, compare “Lotus-Eaters:” those two sluts that night in the Coombe.” 442.35: “hogpew and cheekas:” pigs’ cheeks – like “sluts,” perhaps a comment on the quality of the personnel 442.35: “coomb:” a comb-out was the equivalent of an American police “dragnet.” That the Coombe was a Dublin slum would make the job all that nastier. 442.35: “coomb the brash:” comb and brush 442.36: “the libs:” the libertines; perhaps also the liberals 442.36: “Close Saint Patrice:” compare Stephen in “Eumaeus:” “I belong to the Fauborg Saint Patrice called Ireland.” 443.1: “We are all eyes:” an apt motto for a totalitarian secret police – Gestapo, Ogpu, Cheka (442.35) – of the sort Jaun represents. Also, all “ayes” – present at a meeting, and it turns out we have a (“quoram” (.1)), quorum – not really all that surprising, under the circumstances. (The Soviet Union’s Vyacheslav Molotov, polled at one such meeting on the question of whether or not to liquidate his wife, voted “Present.”) 443.2-6: “Moreover after that, bad manners to me, if I don’t think strongly about giving the brotherkeeper into custody to the first police bubby cunstabless of Dora’s Diehards in the field I might chance to follopon:” Since Jaun is threatening to prosecute a female, the agents of the law invoked are also female: brothel-keeper, “cunstabless” (certainly including “cunt”), Dora (the Defense of the Realm Act, dating to 1914). “”Bubby” recalls that in “Calypso” “bubs” are breasts, and “follopon” echoes fallopian tubes. 443.4: “bubby:” bobby - British policeman 443.4-5: “bubby cunstabless:” compare “comestabulish Sigurdsen” of 429.18. 443.6-7: "get the wind up:" become annoyed, upset 443.7: “buckets of my wrath:” escalates from the more common expression, occurring in “Aeolus,” “vials of his wrath” 443.9: “pitch in and swing:” both “pitch” and “swing” are things that a bowler does in cricket, which I do not understand. “And swing” probably also means that in a certain state he might be willing to commit murder, even if it means being hanged. Also, to take a swing at someone 443.10: “wipe the street up with:” expression from boxing, sometimes in other sports: to “wipe the floor” with the opponent – to trounce him 443.11: “proceedings verses the joyboy:” since (McHugh) joyboy=homosexual, this recalls that the legal proceedings against Wilde included the evidence of his “verses.” (McHugh also reads as “jewboy;” again, Shem was the founder of the Semitic races.) 443.12-3: “Filius nullius per fas et nefas:” see McHugh. Google comes up with no instance of this expression in its full length. “Filius nullius” was the legal term (Jaun is imagining putting his brother on trial) for a bastard; “fas et nefas” is the equivalent of “by hook or by crook.” 443.14: “widest federal:” a white feather was a sign of cowardice - during WW I, of shirkers. (In the next line, the disgraced brother/other is “howling for peace.”) Perhaps coincidentally, Wilde’s persecutor, the Marquis of Queensbury, said that Wilde “showed the white feather” when challenged. See .14-5 and note. 443.14: “federal…cup:” Federal Cup: name for a number of athletic trophies 443.14-5: “pansements then for his pensamientos:” OED lists 1926 as the first instance of “pansy” signifying a male homosexual. 443.16: “burkes for his shins:” expression: to bark (kick) someone’s shin 443.16-7: “Dumnlimn wimn humn:” Dublin will hum (with gossip). 443.17: “fighting lust:” 1. curtailing concupiscence; 2. lust for fighting – something which Queensbury (see .14 and note) certainly exemplified 443.19: “send him to Home Surgeon Hume:” see McHugh: continues Burke & Hare thread of .16: Jaun will half-kill his enemy and send his all-dead corpse to be dissected. For both Burke and David Hume, Edinburgh was "Home." 443.19-20: “before his appointed time:” before he was due to die 443.21: “son of a wants a flurewaltzer:” however aristocratic his pretensions, his father was once floorwalker in (.22) Arnott’s department store. Also, as pictured in Gilbert and Sullivan’s “Patience,” Wilde was wont to “walk down Picadilly with a poppy or a lily.” Also, Bloom’s father’s name was “Virag,” Hungarian for “Flower.” 443.22: “fiftysix:” one reason your annotator thinks that FW’’s default date is March 21, 1938. James Joyce would have been fifty-six at that time. The person being described is the father of one of the brothers, therefore of the other brother too. 443.23 “perhops five foot eight:” perhaps he has to ('hops") hop to count as that tall. (In any case, James Joyce was about three inches taller.) 443.23: “R.C.:” Roman Catholic, the initials frequently included in want ads offering or seeking employment 443.23: “Toc H:” see McHugh. Another FW lexical glissade: Talbot House was a London religious resort, similar to the YMCA, for servicemen and ex-serviceman, who referred to it first as “TH” and then the radioman’s “TH” signal, “Toc H.” 443.23: “Toc H, nothing but claret:” Compare “Oxen of the Sun:” “Bowsing nowt but claretwine.” “Drink[s/ing] nothing but claret” was a catchphrase for semi-temperance. In this context, “Toc H…ing” may be read as “touching.” 443.25: “jawcrockeries:” McHugh: false teeth. Joyce had them throughout the FW years. The “gummy article, pink” (559.15-6), with its glass of water, may be a set of false teeth. (Alternative reading: a condom. But this is FW, so it could be both, or just that the narrator/spectator isn’t sure at the moment.) 443.25: “grinner through collar:” country fairs once featured contests to see who could put on a horse collar and make the most grotesque grimace. “Grinner through horse-collar” became proverbial for low clowning, requiring little skill. 443.26: “colmans suit with tar’s baggy slacks:” neither a coalman – deliverer of coal – nor a sailor (tar, on shore) would presumably be fastidious in dress. For one thing, his slacks (apparently second-hand) do not match his coat, originally part of a suit. Perhaps an allusion to the Black and Tans, so named because their uniforms were similarly mismatched. “Tarman” was a pejorative term for those of African descent. 443.26: “and of course no beard, meat:” insinuation is that he’s too epicene to grow one, plus he doesn’t eat meat – one of the list of indictments in I.7. Not strictly true about Joyce, but through most of his adult life he didn’t eat much of anything, preferring drink. See next entry. 443.27-8: “tar’s baggy slacks, obviously too roomy for him:” skinny all his life, Joyce would have looked skeletal in baggy men’s pants, which, from the visible record, he didn’t wear. Probably a reference here to fashionable “Oxford bags,” signifiers of a class (the class of Hynes, in Ulysses), completely closed to Joyce, and to some degree (a lot) resented accordingly. Also, tars, British sailors, like sailors of other navies, wore bellbottoms, roomy below the knee in case they had to be rapidly dispensed with in the water. 443.30: “pubpal of the Olaf Stout kidney:” “kidney” = slang for a sort of person, in this case the sort that frequents his standard pub, a pub-pal. Perhaps “Olaf Stout” indicates Norwegian ancestry. 443.30-31: “always trying to poorchase movables by hebdomedaries for to putt in a new house to loot:” Compare Portrait, chapter four: “Still another removal!” Like his father (McHugh notes that this is “possibly a portrait of John Joyce;” your annotator concurs, but James sometimes seems consubstantially present too), Joyce was incessantly moving from one address to another. Here, “hebdo-” says, presumably hyperbolically, that such moves occurred about once every week. 443.31-2: “cigarette in his holder:” cigarette holder, of the kind made popular by FDR. Joyce smoked cigarettes. 443.32: “Buinness’s:” Business 443.34: “filmacoulored:” film in color. The first full-length Technicolor film was Becky Sharp, in 1935: other short features in color had appeared earlier. See next entry. 443.34: "filmacoulored featured:” in the 1930’s, a feature film was the main attraction, as compared with the second-level B-level film, newsreels, cartoons, etc. Assuming it's not an error, the spelling of “filmacoulored” is an oddly sideways compromise between English “colour” and American “color.” 443.34-5: “Mothrapurl skrene:” see 314.24 and note. Hollywood’s “silver screen” combined with Chinese and Japanese mother-of-pearl screens. 443.35: “lost angeleens:” as McHugh notes, Los Angeles – probably because the subject is a movie, most likely from Hollywood, in Los Angeles 443.35: “corker:” slang for a stupendous person or thing, of an attractive member of the opposite sex 443.36: “blueygreen eyes:” Joyce had blue eyes; throughout FW green in connection with eyes forecasts glaucoma. As in “Cyclops,” to have green in one’s eye was to be gullible. 444.3: “claudication:” limp 444.4: “fecundclass family of upwards of a decade:” One case where Joyce’s father (who, fecundly enough, had ten children who survived) is the one to fit the profile. Joyce and Nora, had one stillborn child and two who survived. 444.5: “both harefoot and loadenbrogued, to boot:” both fleet of foot and leadfooted; both barefoot and shod with brogues, that is, with thick and heavy Irish boots 444.5: “Imean:” Amen 444.6: “a knuckle or an elbow:” in dealing with this would-be seducer, either slug him (as in “knuckle sandwich”) or elbow him away 444.8: "every whack:" Earwicker 444.8: “when Marie stopes Phil fluther’s game to go:” a bundle of contraries: to be “game” is to be, among other things, sexually ardent and willing; as (McHugh) an “advocate of birth control,” Marie Stopes ought to be game too, but instead she stops the fluter’s fun. See entries for .10 and .11. 444.9: “Arms arome, side aside, face into the wall:” more contradictions: sounds like dancing directions, but “to turn one’s face to the wall” means to die. 444.10: “To the tumble of the toss tot the trouble of the swaddled, O:” When calculating the pleasure of tumbling a lass (or being so tumbled), remember to factor in the potential burden of caring for a “swaddled” – a baby. 444.11: “misconception:” (Obvious?) goes with current discourse about illicit sex, birth control, etc. 444.11-2: “plightforlifer:” marriage; husband 444.12-3: “(three hundred and thirty three to one on Rue the Day”): as identified by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 2021), taken from a divorce case in which the wife defended herself against a charge of adultery by claiming that a child born 331 days after intercourse with her husband was his. 444.13: “the nice little smellar squalls in his crydle:” as unwanted newborn, it comes with smiles and cryings. (Also, with unchanged diapers, smells) 444.14: “dirty old bigger’ll:” given context, probably includes “D. O. B.,” common initials for Date of Birth. Also – see next entry – bodies are buried in the earth, in dirt. For a similar equal-opposite, see next entry. 444.14: “coughin:” “couffin:” French for cradle, equally-oppositely also, as McHugh notes, a coffin. Cradle and grave 444.15: “gunbarrel straight:” phrase: straight as a gunbarrel; Google Books turns up several accounts of highways or streets described thus. “Shotgun wedding” is probably in the background as well. 444.17: “Gash:” slang for vagina. Also, “Gosh” 444.18: “or which struck backly:” see 335.20 and note. 444.19-20: “knocking…down at a greet [great] sacrifice:” selling below value at an auction 444.19: “my name:” usually suggests a title or noble name. Here, the main point is that, as his sister, she’s devalued his name as well as her own by her behavior. 444.20: “babybag:” womb 444.21: “cowhandler:” haggler, according to Christiani. Fits the context. Also, presumably, a farmer dealing in cattle 444.21-2: “niggerd’s:” niggers/niggards 444.25: “the pledges of life outlusts a lifetime:” life outlasts lust. On the other hand “pledges,” conventionally meaning offspring as the result of marital love (e.g. in “Oxen of the Sun:” the Purefoy newborn as “this last pledge of their union”) will likely outlive the lifetimes of their progenitors. 444.25-6: “I’ll teach you bid minners:” an example of a familiar kind of hostile irony, as in “I could care less,” or, in “Circe,” Bello’s “I’ll teach you to behave like a jinkleman!” Besides (McHugh) bad manners, bedroom technique. See next entry. 444.26: “tip for tap:” compare Bloom in “Sirens,” thinking of Boylan and Molly: “Tipping her tepping her tapping her topping her. Tup. Pores to dilate dilating. Tup.” 444.26-27: “oddaugghter tangotricks with micky dazzlers:” Galway edict: “Neither O nor Mac shall strut nor swagger through the streets of Galway.” 444.27: “corsehairs:” a strain of hair with a large diameter is typically called “coarse;” coarse hair in this sense, besides being pubic hair, is considered typical of southern races – for instance, Africans, or one of the Latin-lover South American “micky dazzlers” up to their “tangotricks” (.27), their tricky tangoes. “Micky” ”includes “mick,” Irishmen – who, as redhaired, racially subnormal sweet-talking men might also fit the category. 444.28: “burberry lupitally:” blubbery lips 444.29: “burberry:” raincoat 444.29: “lupitally:” liberally 444.29: “chiffchaff and shavings:” chaff, from “rolling in the hay.” “Shavings:” compare Stephen at the end of “Circe,” set in the red light district, covered “with shavings.” 444.30-1: “asking Annybettyelsas to carry your parcels:” compare Molly in “Penelope:” “will you be my man will you carry my can.” (Although in this case it seems to be three women, Anny, Betty, Elsa.) 444.33: “slickers:” city slickers. Also, as in .29, raincoats 444.34: “play:” please 444.35: “doll yarn:” tall yarn: tall tale 444.35: “homeseek:” homesick 445.1 “striped:” sign of slavery – those marked with the stripes of the whip 445.1: "Nerbu de Bios!:" Never on your (bio) life! (In other words, don't do these things, or you'll be sorry.) 445.2: “If you twos goes to walk:" “walking out” was a term for Irish courtship. This section recalls Joyce’s account of how Nora was whipped by her uncle for walking out with a Protestant. 445.2-3: “to walk upon the railway, Gard, and I’ll goad to beat behind the bush!:” in the thirties, walkers along railway tracks (and riders of the rails) were tramps or hoboes. Railway guards hired to thwart them were called “bulls.” “The Old Bull and Bush” is a popular song named for a London pub. If, side by side, they’re walking the rails and spot a bull, it will be good to hide behind a bush. (Compare .4: “hiding huries hinder hedge.”) 445.3: “hatsnatching:” see next entry. 445.4: "Snap!:" the snap of a dog's jaws. He has just threatened (.3) to become her "harrier" - hunting dog. Also, throughout FW, the sound of a camera's snapshot, recording something shameful 445.4-5: “I’ll tear up your limpshades and lock all your trotters in the closet:” “limpshades”/lampshades (McHugh): a kind of hat; “trotters” are shoes. Hence, head to foot. By putting those out of commission, he’ll keep her from leaving the house, to go walking out (compare note to .2) with her fellow 445.5-6: "and cut your silkskin into garters:" Not only will he lock up her shoes, just to make sure he'll cut her silk stockings into pieces. 445.6: “unbrodhel:” unbridled 445.7: “reely smart:” you’ll reel when I make your skin smart 445.8: “plays the bishop:” compare “Circe:” “playing the Irving Bishop game.” Washington Irving Bishop, although he denied having psychic powers, had a popular mind-reading act around the turn of the (20th) century. In the following few lines, Jaun imitates the talk of stage mind-readers and fortune-tellers. 445.9: “Fair man and foul suggestion:” as from a card-reading fortune teller. Compare “Calypso” on Molly’s card-reading: “dark lady and fair man.” 445.10: "lecit:" licit, legit 445.12: “pud:” OED has 1927 as earliest entry of “pud” = penis. 445.13: "mottob:" backward-spelled "bottom," where he proposes to whip her 445.13: “Aveh Tiger Roma:” take-off on “Amor Vincit Omnia.” 445.16: “will bring the poppy blush of shame to your peony hindmost:” as colors, poppy is a shade redder than peony. 445.17: “papapardon:” “papaver” is Latin for "poppy.” (Compare “poppy” of previous line. The idea may be that she’d like something to relieve the pain from his whipping.) Also, although her brother would be the one whipping her, either he or she believes or pretends to believe that it’s the father. 445.17: “rhodatantarums:” includes “tantrums” and “Tara” 445.19: “bussycat:” pussycat 445.20: “slate:” mirror. Also, pupil’s slate: among other things, he’s giving a school lesson, mainly in Latin, with rod in hand. 445.20: “obliterate:” in context, forget. (Compare “Oxen of the Sun:” “He drank drugs to obliterate.”) 445.20-1: “a running year:” a year running 445.22: “tight and sleep:” sleep tight. (One of several backwardings on this page, e.g. in previous entry) 445.22: “(bouf!):” “puff!” – blowing out candle or lamp 445.22-3: “sleep on it:” expression: have a night’s sleep before making up your mind about something 445.24-5: “the peer of arrams that carry a wallop. Between them:” Claddagh ring: two arms, with hands holding a heart (here, beating) between then. “Arrams:” probably reference to Aran Islands, off the coast of where the Claddagh ring originated 445.24: “Arrams:” Aram: Shem’s son 445.26: “a nuncio:” unknown. (“A” as Latin for “not,” as in “asymmetrical.”) Like, for instance, Odysseus in disguise, returning to Ithaca. Also, a papal nuncio – ambassador – arriving to his (“ire” (.25)) Irish post, (“o’er see” (.26)) over the sea, from the Holy See 445.27-8: "How...times out of oft:" as in "Many a time and oft," a tag from sentimentally romantic writing, as in "Nausicaa." 445.28: “my future:” an expression for one’s future spouse. He has changed from being her disciplinarian - now he is her once and future lover. 445.29: “but:” by 445.30: “empties:” usually signifies empty bottles, a.k.a. “dead men.” 445.31: “moidhered by the rattle of the doppeldoorknockers:” bothered by the death rattle of those who are dead as a doornail (or knobs, or knockers). Also, they would be disturbed by the postman’s traditional double-knock. Also, one of several places in FW where a knock on the door is ominous. 445.32: “homerole:" homely 445.33-4: “You’re sitting on me style, maybe, whereoft I helped your ore:” expression: to help someone over a stile. “Whereoft:” where oft - as in, where I often helped you o’er. Compare 231.5. 445.36-456.1 “Aerwenger’s my breed so may we uncreepingly multipede like the sands on Amberhann!:” earwigs have wings which they seldom use for flight. Here, Jaun, hearkening back to his Earwicker/earwig ancestry, is apparently vowing to recapture his breed’s evolutionarily distant air-winging days but – as usual, equal-oppositely – saying that he and the girls arrange to multiply in the manner of creeping animals - millipedes, for example. In doing so they will fulfill God’s promise to Abraham to multiply his seed “like the sand on the seashore.” (Overtone of "ampersand" in "Amberhann:" addition as well as multiplication.) Until fairly recently, earwigs were classed in the Orthoptera family, which included grasshoppers and, especially relevant to this passage, locusts. Not sure how Amsterdam, surely one of the world’s least sandy places, figures in. 446.2:” “melittleme:” melt me (in desire) 446.3: “pansiful thoughts:” in the language of flowers, pansies signify one person’s love for the recipient. The thoughts are, equal-oppositely, both pensive and fanciful. In British idiom, to "fancy" someone is to be romantically attracted. Perhaps also, with "pense" as penny, an echo of expression "A penny for your thoughts." 446.4: “me dash in-you through wee dots Hyphen:” one of several places where the lovers are imagined communicating by ship-to-shore telegraph. To reiterate: dashes, making for T in Morse code, come from Tristram and all cognate lovers; dots from Iseult/Issy. Here, sexual imagery almost certainly applies: the dash, looking like a hyphen, is getting inside her dot, in the rite of Hymen. Also, “in:” and. 446.5: “pretty arched godkin of beddingknights:” i.e. Cupid, accompanying (see McHugh) "Hyphen"/Hymen (.4). Possible echo of Michael Bodkin, Nora Barnacle’s Galway boyfriend whose early death is remembered in “The Dead.” See .16-17, below. 446.6: “arched:” as in wedding arch 446.5-26: “If I’ve…hardly:” Jaun adopts the role of a soldier leaving his sweetheart for the wars. 446.6: “man of Armor:” soldier. Also, as man of honor, a suitor who can be trusted, who will not love her and leave her 446.7: “should I survive:” again, soldier to sweetheart 446.8-9: “uniter…hearts…handsup:” again (e.g. 444.24-5) a Claddagh ring: two hands reaching around to be joined at the heart. Probably pertinent that the Claddagh ring sometimes signified engagement 446.8: “U.M.I.:”paired with “I.R.U.” of .18, a wedding-like “You am I” and “I are you.” In both cases, contexts also suggest some kind of military outfit or operation. 446.9: “wandering handsup in yawers:” “yawing” is close to being the seaborne equivalent of wandering. “Wandering hands:” long used to describe a suitor – as Molly puts it – “making free” with his hands on her person. Here he’s promising to cut that out and restrict his hand to hers. 446.10: “two pure chicks:” cheeks of both face and arse – actually, more the latter, with its “comely plumpchake” (.10) 446.11-2: “scare the bats out of the ivfry:” scared by the ringing (“hong, kong, and so gong” (.12)) of the gong – probably wedding bells: to certify his honorable intentions, he’s describing their future wedding. Also, echo of Rimbaud’s “Bateau Ivre” 446.12: “ivfry:” ivy-covered belfry 446.13: “rantandog and daddyoak:” see McHugh. Burns’ “The Rantin’ Dog, the Daddy o’t” is sung by a woman about the lover who made her pregnant, asserting that he’ll be true to her. Again, more assurances as to his honorable intentions 446.13: "I will, become come coming:" as "Penelope" makes clear, "come" had its sexual meaning in Joyce's day. 246.14: “the mingling of our meeting waters, wish to wisher:” what today is sometimes sort-of-euphemistically called an exchange of bodily fluids. "Wish to wisher" is a bit of onomatopoeia, both as mingling fluids and as Burns's "swishing of the pricks." Also, wishing-wise, the sex is mutually consensual. As "i-i," for instance in "mishe mishe" answering "tauftauf" (3.9-10), it is, throughout FW, Issy/Iseult's standard pyrrhic response (again, signalling consent) to Tristran's spondaic petition. 446.14: “wish to wisher:” wisha wisha: indeed, indeed; compare 19.5. Also, the equivalent of “that dark deed doer, this wellwilled wooer” (246.30) – again, two ardently consenting lovers 446.16-7: “rainkiss on me back:” compare Anthony and Cleopatra III.13.85: “rained kisses;” “rain kisses” has since been a fairly familiar phrase. Joyce’s poem “She Weeps Over Rahoon” describes “muttering rain” falling on the aboveground tomb of Michael Bodkin, which Joyce visited; presumably the corpse was laid out lengthwise. 446.17: “full marks:” 100 percent correct on exam 446.17: “shouldered arms:” militarily, shouldering rifles signifies an end of hostilities 446.18: “wildflier’s fox:” wildflower’s, wildfire’s – the latter because “fiery fox” is commonly an alternative term for a red fox. 446.19: “swap sweetened smugs:” as in Portrait, chapter one, smugging is sex-play. Here, in a courtship game, they’re trading sweet kisses, on even terms: “six of one for half a dozen of the other” (.19-20). 446.21: “when cherries next come:” in the British Isles, cherry blossoms usually appear at the end of March and beginning of April. 446.21-2: “as come they must, as they musted:” Shakespeare: “Golden lads and girls all must / As chimney sweepers, come to dust.” 446.22: “musted:” in sense of “musty” 446.22: “pressing season:” pressing reason; also, the time for pressing – olives, apples, grapes, etc. 446.23: “suant on:” following 446.24: “horseless Coppal Poor:” the expected phrase is “horseless carriage,” here complicated by (McHugh) “Coppal” – capall – horse. 446.26: “gamey girls:” as at 444.8, girls who are game for a go 446.27: “come slum with me:” according to the OED: “slum” as a verb can mean to visit slums for either disreputable or charitable purposes. Both senses seem to apply here: the slum “rats” (.27) are, according to McHugh, prostitutes, but the following lines are at least ostensibly about performing “social service” (.28). 446.28: "post purification:" Joyce's Notebook VB.5.071: "purify the post," from an entry reading "Purify the post we will...and help clean up things." As elsewhere (e.g. 409.10, 419.30-5, 422.3), we are reminded that the post office was in the censoring business. 446.29-30: "completing our Abelite union by the adoptation of fosterlings:" as McHugh notes, the Abelites were sworn to chastity. The highly sexualized sequence just completed at line.26 is followed by the opposite: their union will be evangelically spiritual. For instance, they will "circumcivicise" everybody (.35) - civilizing, converting heathens into the company of the circumcised elect, and not incidentally putting a serious crimp, at least temporarily, into any below-the-belt goings on. 446.30: “Euphonia:” euphoria 446.31: “Warchester:” war chest 446.31-2: “I’ll put in a shirt time if you’ll get through your shift:” man’s shirt paired with woman’s (“shift”) undergarment – the two will be working together, in a good cause. (Also, a shift is an assigned work period.) On the other hand, in “Circe” a “short time” is a prostitute’s term for a quickie, and for a man and a woman to strip down to shirt and shift respectively can hardly be termed an equivalent level of disrobing. See note to .27. Also, just using the word "shift," in such a morality-crusade context, is at the least incongruous: "shifts" was the word that caused the riots over Synge's The Playboy of the Western World. 446.32-3: “in our shared sleeves:” as in wage slaves. Also, McHugh; in shirt sleeves. Connotes earnest, down-to-business work. Except that (see previous) shirts have sleeves but shifts do not. 446.33: “brace:” as in braces – men’s suspenders. Also, French “bras” – arm 446.33: “brace to brassiere:” brassy to brassier: sexually forward to even more sexually forward. Also, men’s braces and women’s brassiere: yet another case of disproportionate degrees of dress/undress: see .31, .31-2, .33 and note. 446.33: “shunter:” at least currently, can mean fucker. (For neither the first nor the last time, your annotator will point out that indecent words are sometimes hard-to-impossible to date.) Would certainly fit the context; see, e.g. next item. 446.33: “pull off:” to masturbate 446.34: “Come into the garden:” as at 253.17 and elsewhere in FW, Tennyson’s “Come into the garden, Maud” signals a seducer’s palaver. 446.35: “circumcivicise:” civilize (all around), circumcise (Old Testament mark of assimilation), surround the populace, as with the English Pale, which eventually encircled Dublin and environs 446.36: “ignite in our prepurgatory:” see McHugh. Like hell, purgatory is a place of (“ignite”) fire. 447.1: “utensilise:” utilize. The word, now a virtual synonym for “use,” once conveyed instrumentality – the sort of operation involving, for instance, utensils. 447.3: “raffling receipts and sharing sweepstakes:” raffles for charity, plus the Irish Sweepstakes, also a raffle – or lottery – run for charity 447.4: “navel:” in context, the hub 447.5-6: “soothe the cokeblack bile that’s Anglia’s and touch Armourican’s iron core:” “core” as “cor,” heart – England’s (“Anglia’s) coal-black heart (and – see McHugh – the black bile of melancholy (there’s an echo from Hamlet at .7), once supposed to be an English trait) and (“Armourican’s”) America’s iron heart. “Anglia” also probably includes East Anglia, an early source of coal – as Bloom reflects in “Eumaeus,” the basis of England’s industrial economy. (Armorica – roughly, Normandy – also has both coal fields and iron (“core”) ore.) Iron ore was of course essential for America’s steel and thus its industrial base. Coke is made from controlled burning (I suggest that “soothe” echoes “seethe”) of charcoal. In general, Irish coal is inferior to the English variety. 447.6-7: “dipping your nose in it:” variant of “rubbing your nose in it” – they shouldn’t be as immersive as all that. 447.7: “essayes:” compare Hamlet II.2.340, “little eyasses:” a company of child actors, compared to baby falcons. Given the female writers here, the “-yes” ending may be pertinent. 447.9: “jewries:” jewies (occurs in “Cyclops”). Perhaps also Jury’s Hotel, Dublin, mentioned twice in Ulysses 447.9: “sludge of King Haarington’s at its height:” 1. Slag, from the extractive processes just reviewed; 2. As sewage sediment (one OED definition), icky residue from John Harrington’s toilets. At .2, one of the charitable projects was “clean[ing] out the hogshole” (see McHugh), and variations on the theme recur at .14 (“dung”), .16 (“manure”), .17 (“Dumping’s”), .18 (“Mirist:” mire), and .23 (“Compost,” “Dufblin:” dustbin) – all pretty much summed up at 448.7 by a gush of (“kakes”), kaka, Greek (and childish) slang for excrement. 3. “King Haarington’s” also refers to King Henry VIII, as in “Oxen of the Sun” a prodigy of appetite, therefore of waste; at .15-6 he is joined by (McHugh) the first Prince of Wales, also known for his excesses. 447.10: “boulevards:” French “bouleversé,” upset. Also, backwards, as written in the “boustrophedonic” - left-to-right-to-left-to-right – manner of Bloom’s “Ithaca” version of Martha Clifford’s address; writing boustrophedonically would allow their pens to go “running…over the whole of it” (.9-10) without being lifted. 447.10-1: “I’d write it all of mownself if I only had here of my jolly young watermen:” “mūn” or “mūin:” Gaelic for urine. Urine was an ingredient in some household recipes for ink; it was also sometimes used as invisible ink. 447.12: “elacock eggs:” a “cock’s egg” is a yokeless or exceptionally small egg. The expression is thought to be the origin of “cockney.” 447.12: “banana peels:” common example of streetside garbage; one example is in “Wandering Rocks.” 447.14-9: “Luke…party:” look at all he’s done for offal birds, with all the garbage etc. he’s spread around the streets, but (“pray of birds” (.14-5)) also for birds of prey, the inference being that some of that garbage is human. “Luke” because the site is Dublin, in Leinster, Luke’s province. 447.14: “manning:” given context, for instance “priest-mayor-king-merchant” (.15), perhaps Cardinal Manning 447.15: “drawing manure:” common agricultural term for spreading manure 447.16-7: “strewing the Castleknock Road…till the first glimpse of Wales:” imaginatively, in a line stretching east to west across Dublin and extending all the way to Wales. Castleknock Road runs approximately west-east and ends at the Liffey, which runs into the sea, in a direction heading towards Wales. See next entry. 447.17: “from Ballses Breach Harshoe up to Dumping’s Corner:” “up to” because Dunphy’s Corner is north of Ballsbridge. See preceding entry: criss-cross 447.18: “brothers eleven versus White Friars:” brother against (“Friars:” French “frere”) brother, as in a civil war 447.18: “eleven:” football team 447.19-21: “Compare...lump it:” he’s still assigning topics for their essays. 447.20: “Bridge of Belches:” Vitriol works were at Ballybough Bridge. (Compare 95.2-3.) Perhaps wordplay on Venice’s Bridge of Sighs 447.20-1: “Fairview, noreast Dublin’s favourite souwest wateringplatz:” according to Mink, Fairview “really is the NE part of SW Dub.” “Watering place” is slang for drinking establishment. 447.23: “Compost:” compare. Again (see .19 and note), more essay topics 447.23-4: “baugh in Baughkley:” imagined book title: Back in Baile Atha Cliath (Dublin) 447.27: “the greenest island:” from “Blennerhasset’s Island,” by Thomas Buchanan 447.27-8: “black coats of Spaign:” Spain’s Philip II dressed entirely in black and his court followed suit. Also, survivors of Philip’s Armada from Spain who came ashore on Ireland’s west (“coats”) coast were, traditionally, the progenitors of the “black Irish.” 447.28: “Overset into universal: I am perdrix and upon my pet ridge:” “universal” may indicate something like Esperanto, but the original universal multilingual word was “Petrus,” Peter’s name and “rock” in Latin and (although this has been disputed) the Aramaic of Jesus. “Perdrix,” echoing French “perdu,” lost, may be a corrective equal-opposite, “pet ridge” a similarly contradictory example of the waywardness of translation – for instance “Phoenix” from “fionn uisge,” clear water. (With some pushing and shoving, after all, “Peter” could be equally-oppositely construed to mean little-rock-formation.) 447.29: “Way, O way:” 1. Woe, Oh Woe; 2. Wisha, wisha: see 446.14 and note. 3. Oh, make way (for the (“Ford” (.30) Ford) cars). Perhaps pertinent that Henry Ford’s father was Irish; Ford himself visited the ancestral home in 1914. 447.29-30: “the autointaxication of our town:” a prophetic vision of the city-wide car-culture to come, when Dublin will be, like other cities, self-intoxicated with autos (including taxis), definitely remembering that “toxic” means poisonous, as in carbon monoxide. (A Dublin headline, circa 2004, on the city’s chronic traffic jams, came from Joyce on Dubliners: “Dublin is the Center of Paralysis.”) Probably “taxation” figures in as well. 447.30-1: “Hailfellow some wellmet boneshaker:” McHugh has “old bicycle” for “boneshaker.” In the context, I suggest that hailing a cab is likelier. For one thing, the alternative proposed (.31-2) is to hoist one’s umbrella (because it’s raining) and catch a tram, which sounds to me as if Joyce, who never drove a car and wrote FW while living in Paris, was familiar with the perennial urban problem of trying to get a cab when it’s raining. 447.31-2: “run up your showeryweather:” shipboard flags signaled weather; a solid blue flag means rain. 447.32: “Drumgondola tram:” how wet is it? So wet that the Drumcondra tram feels like a gondola. See next entry. 447.34: “ecclastics:” elastics endorsed by ecclesiastics, presumably because of the modesty they confer. How wet is it? Not only does she have an umbrella, she’s wearing elastics – raingear, rubber underwear, whatever – so protective that the church recommends them. No wonder her steps are “bending.” 447.34: “bending your steps:” common phrase: heading towards. Given context (see previous entry), probably also refers to foot-binding 447.35-6: “along quaith a copy of the Seeds and Weeds Act:” informative if you’re about to be covered with, among other stuff, soil. See 448.4-9. 448.1: “a good longing gaze into any nearby shopswindow:” “longing” because the window shopper can’t afford the articles displayed 448.3: “eleven…thirtytwo:” whatever it may signify elsewhere, here 1132 is FW’s millenium – a period of time during which everything has changed. 448.2-4: “hoyth…heehills:” Hill of Howth 448.4-9: “proceed to turn aroundabout…transit:” a dystopian Rip Van Winkle scenario: in the time it takes you to turn around, years will have passed, and you will find yourself not only staring at a Dublin full of automobiles but coated – caked – with street mud being splashed up from their wheels. “Aroundabout:” an automobile roundabout – what Americans call a traffic circle 448.5: “the previous causeway:” that is, the water, or whatever, has risen so much in the interval that a new, and more elevated, causeway is now required. 448.6: “astunshed:” tundish – a critical word in Portrait, chapter five. 448.7: “durn weel:” darn well: a stage-Americanism, probably because the cars (“Fords” (447.30)) come from America. Henry Ford’s ancestry was Irish. 448.7-8: “kakes…jam:” cakes and jam. Also, for “kakes,” see 447.9 and note, 456.20 and note. 448.8: “jam…traffic:” traffic jam, from “Fords in a huddle” (447.30) 448.9: “complaint book:” a record of complaints lodged by (in this case) citizens, as kept by a municipal officer. The unpopular Kate Strong (“Cowtends Kateclean” (.10)) would have been the cause of many such complaints. 448.10: “muckrake:” "muckrakers:” literally, much needed for this new accumulation of urban muck. Figuratively, contemporary exposers of municipal and industrial malfeasance. 448.11-2: “Troia of towns:” a Troy town is/was a maze made of turf. 448.13: “wellbelavered:” much-belabored 448.13-4: “l’pool and m’chester:” Liverpool and Manchester were two cities notoriously blackened by industrial and urban soot. 448.14-5: “grandnational goldcapped dupsydurby houspill:” the Irish Sweepstakes, a lottery of bets placed on such races as the Grand National, etc., was established to fund Irish ("houspill") hospitals. 448.15: “vomitives:” for morning sickness 448.16: “stretchers:” aside from hospital stretchers for transporting invalids, the context suggests penis-lengtheners 448.16-18: “I am all of me for freedom of speed but who’ll disasperaguss Pope’s Avegnue or who’ll uproose the Opian Way?” Strange, I know, but in context “disasperaguss,” grammatically parallel with (“uproose”) uproot, would seem to mean something like: uprooting asparagus plants (making them disappear) in preparation for laying down the roadway. Jaun is all in favor of “speed”-promoting road-building but wondering who will do the necessary grunt-work. “Pope’s” and “Opian” (Apian) Way both implicate Roman road-building as the basis of empire; chiming of poppy (“Pope’s”) and opium (“Opian”) recall Marx’s comment that religion, in this case Catholicism, is the opiate of the people. (Side note: apparently “I’m all for freedom of speech but” was a cliché when Joyce wrote this, some ninety years ago. It still is. Then as now, what it means is, “I’m against freedom of speech.”) 448.18: “the Opian Way:” the “Opium Road,” from China to Burma. Opium is the “ill weed [that] blows no poppy good” (.20) nobody good. “Blows:” blossoms 448.18: “Brayhowth:” Bray Head and Hill of Howth are two prominent elevations to the south and north of Dublin, respectively. Ulysses begins with a sighting (imagined) of the former and ends with a memory of the latter. 448.18: “bait:” Irish pronunciation of “beat” 448.19: “the Bull Bailey:” “Bull” and “Bailey” are both locations of lighthouses, the former on a small island immediately off the coast of Dollymount; they will "brighton" (.18) the surroundings. 448.19-20: “The rampant royal commissioners!:” probably a sarcastic response to a rhetorical question 448.21: “Oil for meed:” All for me. Again, this is Jaun’s sarcastic comment. 448.21: “toil for feed:” like Adam, the (“labour’s” (.21)) laborer must earn his bread in the sweat of his brow. Also, compare previous entry: as at 3.9-10, a variant of I - I (I, me) is followed by a variant of you - you (toi, thee). Many instances occur throughout FW. 448.22: “a walk with the band for Job Loos:” compare “Lestrygonians:” “Halffed enthusiasts. Penny roll and a walk with the band.” Gifford annotates: “The Salvation Army…offered a penny’s worth of bread to anyone who would march through the streets in witness to his ‘conversion.’” As McHugh notes, “Job Loos:” = jobless; therefore, a likely candidate for the offer. (Probably also a nod towards Job, at his most wretched.) Also: a waltz with the band: compare 320.10. 448.24-5: “isagrim tale, keeping the father of curls from the sport of oak:” see McHugh on (“isagrim”) Isegrim and “sport of oak.” Keeping the wolf from the door 448.25: "little giddles:" giddy, giggling litttle girls. Also, certainly sounds like an echo of Little Gidding. (But Mink doesn't list it, and Eliot's poem of the name came well after FW.) 448.26-7: “the smiling voteseeker who’s now snoring elued:” the candidate has been (French “élu”) elected. Also, snoring aloud. The snorer is the manservant. 448.26-7: “who’s now snoring:” another allusion to the metamorphosed manservant, as introduced on page 430. 448.27: "bldy:" being a decorous sort, Jaun elides the semi-obscene "bloody." "Sanguine" (.33) will be a similar dodge. 448.29: “automoboil and footwear:” petrol and shoes, for postmen. In the new age of the automobile, it would be nice if the postal service would modernize and save their employees some shoe leather. 448.30: “poor discalced:” see McHugh; the poor in this case are not voluntarily minus footwear 448.30: “a bourse from bon Somewind:” money – a purse – from some lucky chance. Echoes, oppositely, ill wind (“ill weed”) of .20 448.32-3: “sartunly…sanguine:” “saturnine” and “sanguine” are traditional humorous dispositions – gloomy and cheerful, respectively; at 449.1 “melancholic” will follow. 448.33: “that’s about the sanguine boundary limit. Amean.” I mean to say, that’s about the bloody limit. (“Boundary” may include “bounder,” a lower-order upstart.) The words of a stage-Englishman losing his temper, accordingly (“high fa luting” (.35)) highfalutin. 448.33: “Amean:” Amen 448.34: “voise:” noise/voice 448.34.-452.7: Sis...Schue!:" a prolonged fantasia about what might have been. The trudging footsore postman could have been a world-famous troubadour, like John McCormack. For Joyce, singing was the road not taken. Alter-ego's McCormack and John Sullivan contribute to the sequence, and at times there seem to be memories (e.g. at .36) of the Feis Ceoil contest where Joyce took second to McCormack because he couldn't sight-read from sheet music. One paraphrase of the sequence might be: Who needs written notes? I just sing like a bird! 448.35: “fa luting:” flutey. (Compare “Proteus:” “flutier,” “flutiest.”) Again, his voice is in the upper register. 448.36: “overleaved his booseys:” turned the page of the musical score. McHugh notes that "booseys" signals the music publishers Boosey and Hawkes. See next entry. 449.1: “phonoscopically:” in other words, sound (music)-reading 449.2-4: “on the fulmament he gaped in wulderment, his onsaturncast eyes in stellar attraction followed swift to an imaginary swellaw:” looking at the night sky, seeing Saturn. He’s uncertain as to what he sees (see Stuart Gilbert commentary, included in McHugh) – whether (“stellar”) star or (Saturn) planet, whether swift or swallow. (Two easy-to-make mistakes: both stars and planets are bright dots in the sky, and according to Google Images swifts closely resemble swallows.) Also, “fulmament:” much of what follows will qualify as a fulmination, accompanying his saturnine melancholy at not having won. Again: not being able to read the music before him, he turns his eyes to the sky, with its stars and birds, for inspiration. Like Milton's Shakespeare, he will be warbling his native woodnotes wild. 449.2-3: “onsaturncast eyes:” phrase: cast in the eye – a slight squint or misalignment. Also, as overtone of saturnine (see 448.32-3 and note), would continue catalogue of humorous temperaments. (Missing: phlegmatic, but possibly covered by “incuriosited:” of .1) 449.4: "O, the vanity of Vanissy!:" Ecclesiastes: "Vanity, vanity, all is vanity." 449.5: “Grog help me:” “Grog” is sailor’s slang for liquor. He would be willing to hang around some more if he could drink on the job. (The logical supply would come from Sackerson’s bottle, with its ("boozum" (.16) booze) 449.5-6: “violent…blue:” a surprise: two of the rainbow colors (“violent” = violet) without the usual five others. Probably because it’s night, and we’re on the “nighthood’s unseen violet” (403.22) end of the spectrum. 449.5-6: “If time enough lost the ducks walking easy found them:” that is, if loitering made us lose out then, don’t worry – we’ll make it up easily enough. He’s still in no hurry. (This would contradict the original sense of the original expression, "Time enough lost the ducks," glossed by P.W. Joyce as "The ducks should have been secured at once as it was known that a fox was prowling about. But they were not, and - ." Note ("fonx") fox in next line. 449.6: “I’ll nose a blue fonx:” foxes are usually tracked by their smell – specifically, by foxhounds, which here recalls Shaun’s/Jaun’s role as a “dogmestic” (411.23) member of the Dominican “Domini Canis” (424.3-4). (On the other hand, can his nose detect a blue fox, as opposed to other kinds? The continuation (.6-7) seems to suggest that his sense of sight is as hyper-acute as his sense of smell – that he can tell different breeds apart just by starlight and “earthlight” (.7).) 449.7: "earthlight:" sunlight reflected from the earth's surface onto the moon 449.6-12: “I’ll nose…conduct:” Lady’s wraps of blue fox fur were luxury items; in “Nausicaa,” Gerty laments that she will not be described as wearing one in a high-fashion newspaper notice. General sense: I know a swanky lady when I see one – in fact, can spot her in a crowd - but still prefer my good old-fashioned working-class girl, the sort who (.10-11) waits tables at a Lyons’ tea-shop. 449.9: “turn back as lief as not:” turn over a new leaf. Also, long shot: Lief Ericson? (Compare 326.30-1.) A mariner sailing by the stars (see first note to .11), there must have been times when he felt like turning back. 449.9: “spoonfind:” spoon: twenties slang for playful love-making. Also, a teaspoon, to go with the Lyons tea-shop girl of .11. 449.10-1: "Touttou Ipostila:" yet another you-you I - I sequence, as elsewhere combined with T-T i-i. 449.11: “Lyons, to guide me by gastronomy:” then as now, Lyons was considered France’s gourmet capital. Comparison with (Lyons) tea-shop fare is surely ironic. The expression “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach” may be part of the package. 449.11: “guide…by gastronomy:” to steer by (astronomy) the stars 449.13: “tinny of brownie’s tea:” some American readers may not know that “tin” is British for tin can. Some teas – here, brown, as opposed to green - come in tins. Also, tea-drinking often signaled sobriety - the alternative to the "Grog" of .5. 449.14: “Saint Jamas Hanway, servant of Gamp:” see McHugh, and compare “camp mass” of “Circe,” where the server “holds over the celebrant’s head an open umbrella.” 449.15: “lapidated:” not dilapidated (the umbrella). Like "gruntled" vis-a-vis "disgrunted" 449.16: “boozum:” booze 449.17: “localoption:” local option: the right of a jurisdiction to ban alcoholic beverages, despite state or national laws permitting them 449.18: “I’ll dreamt that I’ll dwealth:” I dreamt that I’d (I had) wealth 449.19: “hiehied:” hied 449.20: "me hares standing up well and me longlugs dittoes:" both hair and ears (lugs) perked up - like a hare fearing and listening for a fox. Compare next entry. 449.21: "maurdering row, the fox!:” foxes kill and eat rabbits, and Jaun is imagining himself as a rabbit. Also, Murderers’ Row: by the time Joyce was doing FW the popular name for a part of the New York Yankees’ batting lineup, before that a hard-case division of New York’s Tombs Prison . Also, possible echo of "a murder of crows" - yet another bird added to the sequence 449.22: "beausome:" beautiful bosom 449.22-4: “pinching stopandgo jewels out of the hedges and catching dimtop brilliants on the tip of my wagger:” as a happy rabbit safe in its hutch, he’s playing with drops of rain or dew hanging on hedges, and, dreaming of being rich (see .18 and note), pretending they’re jewels. Stop and go jewels would be (red) rubies and (green) emeralds respectively, “brilliants” would be diamonds. One way he might have gotten rich would have been from taking a tip on a wager. Counterpointing this fantasy is the overtone of “hedge thief:” someone who pinches laundry drying on hedges. (Mentioned in “Oxen of the Sun”) 449.24: “wagger:” tail as well as tongue: Jaun is imagining himself as harrier chasing a fox, a conceit tracing to .6ff. 449.24-5: “that owledclock (fast cease to it!) has just gone twoohoo the hour:” Oxford editors have “owled clock.” See McHugh. He is irritated, or pretends to be, that the clock has just struck two, because it means that it’s time for him to be going. In the Old Testament the “watches of the night” are three in number; the second (“middle”) watch was from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m., so it would be the right time for a changeover. (“Morning watch” would be next.) On the other hand, the Romans had four night watches, and Glasheen among others thinks that III.4 is “the fourth watch of Shaun.” 449.24: “owledclock:” again, Oxford editors have “owled clock.” “Old cock:” British term of familiarity. Also, owl-time is night-time: as McHugh notes, it is now 2 a.m. 449.25: “yen:” yon. Also, Joyce’s Notebook X: Breton "yen," cold 449.25-6: “save side till the bark:” sheltered (safe) side of a boat (“bark”) 449.26: “devils:” as in dust devils: (small) whirlwinds, here whipped up by the “breezes zipping round” (.25-6) 449.27: “bark:” sound of dog’s barking at the beginning of grouse season (August 12) 449.27-8: “till heoll’s hoerrisings:” until hell rises up; until the sun – helio – rises on the horizon. Joyce’s Notebook X: Breton "heol," the sun 449.28-9: “widamost ear:” compare 234.7: “eyes whiteopen” (eyes wide open) 449.29: “drummling:” drumlin 449.29-30: “hearing the wireless harps of sweet old Aerial and the mails across the nightrives:” in other words, a night letter (compare 308.21) – a wireless telegram sent at night, with “peepet! peepet!” (.31) the usual pyrrhic double-i message from Issy, followed by the usual spondaic dash-dash (“moor park! moor park!” (.31-2)) answer from her lover. It is being picked up by the pub's radio aerial, part of the apparatus described in detail on pages 309-10. As such, an modern version of the music of the spheres. Compare the non-wireless telegraphy of 98.14: "Wires hummed." Also, see McHugh, quoting from Gilbert: as recorded in “A Painful Case,” the train out of Dublin runs audibly close to FW’s central location, Chapelizod. 449.32-3: “crekking jugs at the grenoulls:” again, as at 4.1-2, the mating croaks of the nearby Liffey’s frogs. 449.31-2: “(peepet! peepet!)…(moor park! moor park!):” again, telegraphic/quantitative-metrical exchange between lovers: dot-dot, dot-dot…dash-dash, dash-dash 449.35: “rugaby moon:” rugby moon: approximately three-quarters moon, in shape of rugby ball. (Or – “nocturnal goosemother would lay her new golden sheegg” (449.36-450.1) – of a goose egg.) Also, “Rockabye,” as in “Rockabye, baby:” moon as child going to sleep in the (“cumuliously…westasleep” (.35)) moonlit night-clouds while descending to the west 449.35: “amuckst:” probably refers to muddy condition of the typical rugby scrum (.36) 450.1: “sheegg:” she-egg: perhaps to distinguish from cock’s egg: 440.20, 447.12. As a goose egg (449.36-450.1), resembles rugby moon, rugby ball 450.1: “down under:” Australia; euphemism for genitals 450.2: “shy orient:” possibly “orient sky,” a common Orientalist poeticism 450.2-20: “What….fairyaciodes:” gist: I’d rather be fishing 450.3: “beavery:” beaver hat 450.3-4: “melt my belt for a dace feast of grannom with the finny ones, those happy greppies in their minnowahaw, flashing:” the barrel’s middle hoop is metallic, therefore meltable into something shiny. Grunion (see next entry), like minnows and some guppies, are silvery and shiny. 450.4: “grannom:” grunion: small (being compared to guppies and minnows (.5)) Pacific fish; at mating time they swim ashore at high tide. Here, also compared to spawning salmon – for instance with “leaps” (.6) 450.5: “swan’s way:” Anglo-Saxon kenning for ocean 450.7: “pursewinded:” i.e. pursy: shortwinded, fat. Here, the fish are exhausted from spawning. 450.8: “when I’d like own company best:” in other words, he’d prefer to be alone. Here, because of the dead-fish stench (.7), he’d like to move away. 450.10: "my g.b.d. in my f.a.c.e. solfanelly:" See McHugh. May indicate that he's still having trouble trying to sight-read the music. 450.10: “solfanelly on my shellyholders:” with Nelly leaning on my shoulder, probably on a sofa 450.11-12: “jealosomines wilting:” Jerusalem artichokes (mentioned in “Nausicaa” as an example of flowers who “know their hours”) are heliotropic and can accordingly be imagined as wilting at night. 450.12: “the king of saptimber letting down his humely odours:” the oak, Jove’s (sap/timber) tree, is traditionally considered the king of trees. (Goes with “sturgeone” (.15) as McHugh notes traditionally a royal fish.) In ("saptimber") September, its leaves would be starting to fall. Odours? Perhaps has to do with the flavors supposed to be contributed by “oak-aged barrels” to various alcoholic contents. Also, according to a number of sources, different kinds of tree canopies produce different varieties of (“humely”) humus on the forest floor. Also (“king”) a reference to the Royal Oak, in whose canopy of leaves the future Charles II hid from his pursuers on September 6, 1651. 450.13: “consternation:” consolation 450.14: “burning water in the spearlight:” “Spearlight,” meaning the first light of the sun, occurs in, and apparently only in, Patrick Brontë’s poem “Thermopylae.” (Seems an unlikely source, but then Joyce was a fan of Emily Brontë.) Perhaps accounts for the suddenly sunlit (“burning”) water here – which (also perhaps) recalls “The barge she sat on, like a burnished throne, / Burnt on the water:” Antony and Cleopatra II.1.201-2.) Also, compare 267.4-6, 594.21-2 and notes. 450.14: “catching trophies:” trophies for catching the biggest fish 450.16: “abower in L’Alouette’s Tower:” poetically a high-flyer, the (aloutte) lark would properly have a bower in a tower. 450.15-20: “bake…pie…naughtingels… juckjucking…twittynice…blackbudds..musicall airs…king:” an example of what I’ve called FW’s clusters – all bits from “Sing a Song of Sixpence,” in no particular order, or, as best I can find, fitting no particular pattern 450.17: “Adelaide’s naughtingerls juckjucking benighth me:” Adelaide is in Australia, hence (“down under”) beneath him; plus, it’s nighttime. (There are no nightingales in Australia – they’re pretty scarce in Ireland, too - but, as in 450.1, the sexual innuendo (McHugh has “nightingales” as slang for whores) goes with “gerls,” “juckjucking” (as in “The Wasteland’s” “jug jug to dirty ears”) and - again, McHugh – itching.) Naughtiness (“naughtingerls”/naughty girls) also probably has to do with Australia’s history as a prison colony. Given context, “juckjucking” also includes “joking,” behind his back. “Benighth:” benighted, literally: nightingales sing at dusk. 450.18: “twittynice:” twenty-nine. Also, “twit” is commonly used to represent the sound of birdsong. 450.19-20: “singasongapiccolo to pipe musicall airs on numberous fairyaciodes:” “-piccolo” includes not just the instrument but Italian for “small,” in keeping with the general company of little girls, little fish, little birds, and, here ((“fairyociodes”) fairies) little people. The piccolo’s high pitch is consistent with Jaun’s presentation as a tenor. As a version of “firesides,” “fairyaciodes” indicates that Jaun is thinking of singing his music hall songs - "airs" - over the radio (Giorgio Joyce did this, at one point), over the air, to numerous homes. (Question: was this written before or after 1933, when FDR began his “fireside chats?” Again, your annotator is no expert on genetic studies, but according to Google Books, “fairyaciodes” did not appear in print until FW’s publication in 1939.) Also, since “fario” is a kind of trout (see 245.12), Jaun would seem to be still preoccupied with fishing – that is, with killing fish. 450.20-1: “I give, a king, to me, she does, alone, up there, yes see, I double give:” perhaps the following is obvious, but just in case: “I give" ["do:" Italian for “I give”], "a king" ["re:" Italian for “king”], "to me" [Italian is also “me”], "she does" ["fa:" Italian for “he or she does”], "alone" [Italian: “sola”], "up there" ["la!," Italian equivalent of “voila!,” "see" (up) there!], "yes see" [tricky, but readable as “you see,” and “ti” is Italian for “you,” and “si” for “yes”], "I double give" [back to “do,” I give, for the second time].” Here, as elsewhere, Italian is the language of music. 450.21: “spinney:” spinet 450.22-3: “I may have no mind to lamagnage the forte bits like the pianage but you can’t cadge me off the key. I’ve a voicical lilt too true. Nomario!:” Maybe I can’t manage the loudest parts, but… Joyce’s singing voice lacked volume: unlike Mario the tenor (Joyce was a tenor; Mario is mentioned in “Aeolus”), he could not have been an operatic star. Likewise, as a singer, Shem is no Mario. “True” modifies both ways: true I have perfect pitch; true – too true, alas – that I’m no Mario. May be pertinent that in "Aeolus" Mario is said to look like Jesus: he's no Jesus, either. 450.24: “key:” given context, quay 450.25: “And bemolly and jiesis!:” Again (see 407.16 and note), in “Aeolus,” the tenor Mario (see 450.22-3 and note) is said to look like Jesus. 450.26: “latcher part of my throughers:” throat, with overtones of thought and (McHugh) trousers. What with echo of lecher in “latcher,” this draws on the tradition, exemplified in Ulysses by the amply endowed bass baritone Ben Dollard, of a correlation between depth of vocal register and magnitude of genital equipment. As a tenor, Jaun (with “cockful” and (see McHugh) “fork” (.27)), is defensively asserting something like the contrary – he may be no bass baritone, but don’t judge a book by its (pun alert) volume. See next entry. 450.26-7: "And the lark that I let fly (olala!) is as cockful of funantics:" Larks are songbirds; the skylark famously flies upwards at dawn; Shelley's ("shellyholders" (.10)) "To a Skylark" famously celebrates it; to behave larkily is to have fun; "Oh la la!" can be the sound of someone having fun. 450.27: “cockful:” chockful. Also a full-up cock: an erection 450.27: “cockful of funantics:” musical (phonetic) fanatics – the kind of “enthusiasts” who, according to Bloom in “Sirens,” are “fiddlefaddle about notes” 450.28-9: “but I’m athlone in the lillabilling of killarnies:” “The Lilly of Killarney:” aside from an opera, a song of the same name calling for a higher-register singer 450.30: “What’s good for the gorse is a goad for the garden:” the goose-for-gander logic eludes me, but gorse, as a wild growth, contrasts antithetically with garden. This seems consistent with Jaun’s injunction to “ware the wold” (.29) and with his warnings against poisonous wildflowers (.30-2). “Goad” may echo “goat” – presumably a threat to garden flowers. 450.32: “Bryony O’ Bryony, thy name is Belladama!:” a warning against wild Byronic types, poisonously threatening damnation to beautiful women, and perhaps vice-versa: As herbs, bryony and belladonna are both poisonous. 450.33: “greenwood’s gossip:” expression: “greenroom gossip” – backstage back-stabbing chatter among theatre people. Occurs in “Scylla and Charybdis.” 450.34: “sharp:” matches “flat” of .29 450.34: “Doublefirst:” double-first: at Oxford, first-class honors in both components of an undergraduate degree. In context, also military double-time 450.35: “through all my examhoops:” although the subject is changing from musical to academic prowess, this recalls Bloom’s “Sirens” description of music: “In and out of sacks, over barrels, through wirefences, obstacle race.” Also, the requirements for success in school have long been compared to jumping through hoops. (See previous entry.) 450.36: “I’d sink it sumtotal:” 1. sinking fund 2. He’s literally starting to sink. 451.1: “in vestments:” investments. Also, clerical vestments 451.1: “dolly farting:” bally farthing 451.2: “bait:” another case of Irish pronunciation, this time for bet 451.2-3: “the whole ounce you have on your backboard:” sarcastic. She has all of an ounce of clothing on her back(side). (“On his/her back” is a fairly common expression for what someone is wearing.) “Ounce” can also signify, in general, any small unit of measurement, or, in particular, three inches. Here, he’s betting his coat against her ounce – giving her favorable odds. 451.3-4: “(if madamaud strips mesdamines may cold strafe illglands!):” follows logically from preceding: if the girls follow bad examples and strip naked or near-naked then they’ll catch cold and suffer from ill glands. Also, If Madame outstrips mes dames… The “-damines” may incorporate “gamines.” To outstrip someone is to surpass them, in stripping, singing, or anything else. 451.4-5: “I’m the gogetter that’d make it pay like cash registers:” OED has “go-getter” and “cash register” predominantly American idioms during the FW years. John McCormack made a fortune in America. Compare .19: “cash-and-cash-can-again.” 451.5: “as sure as there’s a pot on a poll:” as sure as Earwicker is Earwicker. According to I.2, HCE got his name by carrying an earwig trap – a pot on a pole. 451.6-7: “sowing my wild plums to reap ripe plentihorns mead:” there is such a thing as mead made from plums. Mead was traditionally drunk out of hollow horns. 451.7: “plentihorns:” plenteous 451.7: “lashings of:” Irish idiom: lots of 451.9: “tophole:” top hole: the flute stop nearest the mouth. See next entry. 451.9: “fluke:” flute: again: Jaun’s voice is in a high register. (But an octave lower than that of a piccolo (450.19-20).) Also, a kind of fish 451.10-1: “unsleeping Solman Annadromus:” see McHugh. Spawning salmon don’t sleep. Version of “Salmon Anadromous” reminds us, not for the only time (see, for instance, “annyblack water” (.15)), that Greek for river is άλά, Ana. 451.11: “ye god of little pescies:” god of the fishes. Compare 245.9-13 and note. 451.12-3: “mony makes multimony like the brogues and the kishes:” through marital procreation, many multiply into many times many, like Jesus’ multiplying of the loaves and fishes. For similar multiplication of brogues, see 13.36-14.4. 451.12: “multimony: again, compare Smollett’s Humphrey Clinker: “the holy bands of mattermoney.” 451.14: “axe the channon:” spike the cannon. Perhaps also: ask the church canon to schedule a marriage 451.15: "drink annyblack water:" Anna Livia, the Liffey. "Liffey water" is rhyming slang for porter, which is black. 451.15: “rann:” given that the three other members of this list (“channon…liffey…annyblack water;” see McHugh) are major rivers of west, east, and south, respectively, this is probably the Bann, the longest river in Ulster. 451.16: “Yip! How’s that’s for a scats, mine shatz, for a lovebird?:” how’s that “Yip!” sound, coming from a singer of love songs? “Scats:” scat singing 451.19: “divy:” divvy: slang for dividend 451.20-1: “rolling you over…in my tons of red clover:” see McHugh. The song “Roll Me Over, in the Clover” is, to say the least, sexually suggestive. 451.21: “in my tons of red clover:” phrase: in clover – to be well fixed financially. Possibly pertinent that red clover is important in apiculture 451.22-3: “Holy petter and pal:” to make out (pet) with a pal 451.23: “sumptuous Sheila:” "Sheila:" generic Australian term for girl friend or desirable female. Also, alternate pronunciation: sumpt tuousSheila: Saint Cecilia is the patron of music, here hailed as a muse: as part of his romancing act, he's singing love songs. 451.24: “shortusians:” infusions. Chartreuse does not make champagne, but the liqueur is sometimes an ingredient in champagne cocktails. Also, short ones: slang for a quick or small drink 451.25: “pale of sparkling ice, hear it swirl:” ice pail for champagne, with the bottle being swirled around in it before serving 451.30: “Gizzygay:” jizz = slang for semen 451.30: “electric ottoman:” by analogy to electric chair. An (ironic) example of the latest conveniences 451.31: “simpringly stitchless with admiracion:” simpering in admiration. “Stitchless:” without a stitch on: naked 451.32: “uxuriously furnished compartments, with sybarate chambers:” the main rooms would be designed with the woman of the house in mind, but he’d have private rooms on the side for occasional (sybaritic) debaucheries. Perhaps also separate bedrooms 451.33: “run my shoestring into a near million:” make a fortune out of almost nothing 451.35: “famiksed:” given next entry, probably includes “family” 451.36: “shoepisser pluvious:” probably an allusion to Shem, the black-sheep (“pluvious:” previous) brother – in the same sequence a (“luftsucks woabling” (452.1)) lovesick wobbler catching a bad cold in the (“hedrolics in the coold amstophere” (452.1-2); see Gilbert’s notes in McHugh and compare 453.17) wet and frigid weather. 451.36: “assideration:” homicide – especially infanticide – by immersion in ice-cold water 452.1: “woabling:” wobbling 452.2: “borting:” morning, as pronounced by someone with a cold. (Can also be heard in next two entries.) 452.1-2: “coold amstophere:” Amsterdam. (“Oo” often indicates a Dutch presence.) 452.2: “perish the Dane:” perish the name. (I.e. “absit nomen;” occurs in “Scylla and Charybdis”) As with “borting,” the pronunciation is head-cold-inflected. Refers to Shem, with his “chapter of accidents.” Probably an allusion to Hamlet, the Dane 452.3: “atramental:” attributable 452.3: “the better half of my alltoolyrical health:” “better half” is usually a husband’s complimentary phrase for his wife; here he means himself, as someone who is normally much healthier than his twin brother. 452.6: “sotisfiction:” a lie – fiction – that would satisfy a sot, satisfy sottishly. Jaun may be the speaker, but a refusal to write such fiction is close to Joyce’s creative credo. Compare Gabriel, in “The Dead,” on Freddy Malins’s “sottish pound.” 452.7: “applesauce:” Americanism for nonsense 452.9: “Tennis Flonnels Mac Courther:” Tennis Flannel (tennis) Court. In Joyce, tennis always stands for upper-class snobbery. Denis Florence MacCarthy’s poetry is typically sentimental, pious, and verging on doggerel – just the kind of family hearthside poet Jaun would recommend. 452.10: “tripos:” tripod. Given next entry, almost certainly an allusion to the oracle at Delphi. 452.10-1: “just thinking like thauthor how long I’d like myself to be continued at Hothelizod:” it seems reasonably clear that at 626.18 the author, Jaun’s other half, is referring to the book we’re in as “Tobecontinued’s tale,” a book whose last act is a stroll from Chapelizod toward the location (623.4-7), “Howth Castle and Environs” (3.3), whose appearance ends the sentence that began on the last page. FW’s finale is a swan song, in part based on Josephine’s deathbed speech in A Royal Divorce, of someone who is dying and doesn’t want to, then or now: “I’d like myself to be continued” – compare “I am passing out. O bitter ending!” 627.34-5). 452.11-2: “peeking into the focus and pecking at thumbnail reveries:” focus = Latin for fireplace. Jaun is describing the common pre-television practice sometimes called “seeing stories in the fire.” Portrait, chapter 2 has an account: “He lay listening to the words and following the ways of adventure that lay open in the coals, arches and vaults and winding galleries and jagged caverns.” In the sequence, Jaun’s imagination seems to be further enhanced by audio input from phonograph and radio. Also (see previous entry) he is having visions. 452.12-3: “pricking up ears to my phono on the ground:” describes the difficult feat of simultaneously pricking up one’s ears and keeping at least one of them to the ground 452.12: “pecking at thumbnail reveries:” like Simon Dedalus in “Sirens,” he is “picking chips off one of his rocky thumbnails” – a condition usually caused by a fungal infection. 452.14: “tramsported:” includes German traum: dream 452.15: “my brow that’s all forehead:” a phrenological sign of mental prowess. Not a lowbrow 452.16: “tune the old plow tied off:” to supplement McHugh: a plow tune is call-and-response/choral song sung during plowing. 452.19: “as you so often term her:” query: who is “you?” Issy seems unlikely. 452.21: “ramescheckles the last bust thing:” the reign of Rameses XI was a time of what Wikipedia calls his “fractured kingship” and marked the end of Egypt’s dominance. (Hence ramshackle, a word Joyce used to describe the Austro-Hungarian Empire in its declining years.) The British Museum collection includes a “head and bust” of Rameses XI. 452.23-4: “all serene, never you fret, as regards our dutyful cask:” don’t worry, everything’s fine, especially (as a barrel) when it comes to the beautiful cask that is me. (“All serene” appears in this sense in “Oxen of the Sun.”) Also, dutiful task. Also, possibly: (“dutiful”) duty in sense of (“task”) tax 452.24-5: “full of my breadth:” air has replaced the barrel’s original contents, not yet replaced by water. 452.26-7: “everynight:” overnight 452.29: “lord at Lucan:” apparently identical with the “overking of Hither-on-Thither Erin” (.27-8) he is going to meet. No one seems sure of who this Lord of Lucan is, or how or why he should have been promoted to the kingship of Ireland, but if Jaun as floating barrel situated at Dublin’s eastern edge (see 429.5 and note) is, temporarily, heading upstream in the direction of Lucan, the tide must be coming in. Compatibly enough, the tide will definitely be heading east, out to sea, about five or six hours later, according to its regular rotation of (216.4) hitherings and thitherings. 452.31: “newlywet:” newly met 452.31…33: “fellow…old one:” in Ulysses, “old fellow” means father. 452.32: “guinea for a hayseed:” half-pence (pronounced “hay-pence”); compare “Oxen of the Sun” odds: “Guinea to a goosegog.” Also, “hayseed” is Americanism for gullible rustic. 452.35-6: “sunsick! I’m not half Norawain for nothing:” that is, his northern-European ancestry makes him especially susceptible to sunstroke. Jaun’s father, HCE, is frequently represented as being of Scandinavian ancestry. Given the seagoing context, probably also an overtone of “seasick” 452.36-453.1: “The fine ice so temperate of our, alas, those times are not so far off as you might wish to be congealed:” after McHugh: “finish,” yes, but also (icey) “finis.” Like Robert Frost’s “Fire and Ice,” this may be revising Revelations with a prediction that the world will end in ice, not fire, either by the sun’s going out or with a new Ice Age; both possibilities were matters of informed speculation during the FW years and after. “Temperate” echoes both temperature and temporary; ice is “congealed” water. 453.3: “primmafore’s wake:” given nautical sense of “wake,” an allusion to H.M.S. Pinafore 453.3-4: “I don’t want yous to be billowfighting:” both billowing waves and a group of girls on a sleep-over, pillow-fighting; the visual link may be whitecaps – feathers. Compare “gobble gabble” of next line: pillows can be stuffed with the feathers of chickens or geese; both are sometimes described as gabbling; geese come in gaggles. 453.5: “after soused mackerel:” one of the places where Jaun identifies with FW’s Saint Michael – he doesn’t want them fighting over him or, when he leaves, crying (“sniffling clambake to hering” (.5-6)) for him to come back. 453.6: “barney, braggart of blarney:” “Barney” is English-Irish slang for an argument or brawl. The chorus of “Impudent Barney O’Hea” (McHugh) includes the phrase “None of your blarney.” 453.7: “ugly lemoncholic gobs:” from here through most of the paragraph, a running theme is that the girls/women – out of spite, Jaun has aged them by about fifty years - are local equivalents of America’s Women’s Christian Temperance Union: women whose prohibitionist (.14) sentiments are to some extent anti-male in origin. (In response, Jaun becomes strikingly misogynistic.) A “lemoncholic” is the lemonade-drinking equivalent of an alcoholic, and lemonade was a favorite drink at temperance meetings. (President Rutherford B. Hayes’ wife was named “Lemonade Lucy” because she refused to serve alcohol at White House functions.) Such women were conventionally represented as being old and ugly. “Gobs,” as in the song “Finnegan’s Wake,” is slang for “mouths.” Note: though this anti-puritanical pose may seem out of character, Shaun is, after all, a barrel of Guinness. 453.8: stopping oddments in maids’ costumes at sweeping reductions:” OED: “oddment:” “articles from broken or incomplete sets offered for sale at a reduced price.” Hence “sweeping reductions.” (“Sweeping” is usually a cue for Kate, the old-maid grump who would be fit company for this “biddy moriarty” (.4: see McHugh) set.) 453.9: “ohs:” giving continuation (see second note to .11), “ohs” = O’s = (compare 196.1) their vaginas. (Again, see note to .7: Jaun’s mood here is, momentarily, highly misogynist.) Probably also mouths 453.9: “ohs…ahs:” omega…alpha: a frequent FW motif. Also, the “oh”ing and “ah”ing of gossip 439.11: “curse luck:” worse luck 453.11: “with your rags up, exciting your mucuses:” perhaps obviously: lifting your skirts, stimulating your vaginal fluids. (The Bartholin glands secrete mucus.) Possibly an innuendo of lesbianism. The words could also convey handkerchiefs raised to noses, mouths, or, maybe, weeping eyes. Also, McHugh notes that “with the painters in too” (.10) and “curse” (.11) are codes for menstruation. Again, Jaun is going through a spell of fierce misogyny, throwing out every insult he can think of; “rags” as slang for sanitary napkins is part of the repertoire. 453.11-2: “turning breakfarts into lost soupirs:” with “The Last Supper” in play, one way of saying: histrionically making a mountain out of a molehill. “Soupirs” – sighing – goes with crying. 453.12: “salon thay,” salon thé (French) or saloon tay (Irish). In the former, French affectation goes with the group’s social pretensions. Continuous tea-drinking was also (see, e.g. the anti-liquor meeting in Pickwick Papers) a feature of temperance meetings – hence “teetotaler.” 453.12-3: “you flabbies on your groaning chairs:” groaning from their weight. They’re not so temperate when it comes to food. “Flabbies:” fatsoes. (Compare “Cyclops:” “flabbyarse of a wife.”) Also, “groaning chairs” were originally used for childbirth. 403.13: “of a bluemoondag:” see McHugh. A Dutch expression meaning a very short time, plus “blue moon,” meaning a very long time. Equal opposites 453.14: “steamin your damp ossicles:” whispering (hot-breathily) into one another’s ears 453.15: “Dyspeptist:” all that tea (see note to .12) could promote dyspepsia. 453.15: “Ole Clo:” as in “Oxen of the Sun,” a disparaging term for Jews 453.15-6: “with Shep togather:” with sheep to gather – in sense of a minister’s “flock.” In what was sometimes called “pink and white tyranny,” clergymen were often allies of the WCTU and similar organizations. 453.16: “chesnut burrs:” probably obvious: chestnuts grow in “burrs,” prickly pockets that grow on chestnut trees; here the setting goes with “the wood” (.15), “kindlings” (.17), “leaves” (.18), and “togather,” from the common phrase “gathering chestnuts.” 453.17: “Goodboy Sommers and Mistral Blownose hugs his kindlings:” bluenose: puritanical fault-finder. Also, given that the Mistral is a cold winter wind (counterpointed here with “Sommers” – summer (.16)), someone with a cold, blowing his nose, staying close to the kindling burning in the fireplace. Gathering chestnuts (and kindling) usually occurs shortly before the onset of winter. 453.18: “robbing leaves out of his taletold book:” Nathaniel Hawthorne: Twice-Told Tales. Phrase: to take a leaf out of [someone’s] book – to practice a trick learned from someone else. Here, also another accusation of plagiarism (“stolentelling” (424.35)) against the writer brother 453.19: “May my tunc fester:” Psalms: “If ever I forget thee, O Jerusalem, may my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth.” The “book” leaf of the previous line is the “Tunc” page of the Book of Kells; compare 122.22-3. 453.19: “miry lot of maggalenes:” to me, this sounds like “Mary had a little lamb.” See next entry. 453.19: “miry:” merry. Also Mary (Magdalene) 453.20: “Once upon a drunk:” a good beginning for an anti-liquor cautionary tale 453.21-2: “a plain shays by the fire for absenter Sh the Po:” compare the scenario imagined by Bloom in “Eumaeus:” after long absence, D. B. Murphy returns to the family “fireside,” only to find his place taken by another man and “No chair for father.” 453.21: “I’ll make ye an eastern hummingsphere:” see previous entry: in the same “Eumaeus” segment, the abandoned sailor’s wife is “his better half.” (Compare 452.3.) Here’s he’s the eastern hemisphere – better or not, half of the planet, to be matched with her other half. “Humming” by way of the music of the spheres. Possible overtone of “Eastern Hummingbird,” though not native to the British Isles 453.22: “name the way:” name the day (to get married: compare 270.28-9) 453.23-4: “Look in the slag scuttle and you’ll see me sailspread over the singing:” again, as in 452.11-2, seeing stories in the fire. “Singing” = cinders. “Slag” can mean either coal residue or cinders. One way of extinguishing cinders is to (“sailspread”) spread soil over them. 453.24-5: “and what do ye want trippings for when you’ve Paris inspire your hat?:” surely a nod to Huysmans’ A Rebours, in which a French aesthete aborts his planned trip to London (here, it’s Paris) because nothing could equal the city he imagined while waiting to cross the channel. As at .23-4 (see previous entry) an act of imaginative projection supplants mundane reality. 453.26: “Sussumcordials all round:” again, context: a cordial is an alcoholic drink, and “all round” are the words of someone buying drinks in a bar, either for all his friends or for everyone present. 453.26: “alloyiss and ominies:” alias and (probably) something in the range of “Anonymoses” (47.19) 453.27-8: “though blighted troth be all bereft:” besides bereft – that is, lost, broken, forsaken – engagement (plighted troth), though blighted truth be all that’s left. He will go on to promise that, whether or not married on earth, they’ll be together in heaven. 453.28: “headsake:” headache caused by hangover, sometimes called a “big head” or “sore head” 453.29: “Lo, improving ages wait thee:” “wait:” await. Highly sarcastic. “Improving” was the word favored by high-minded Victorian and Edwardian busy-bodies. 453.30: “yon cloudy sky:” as established on page 403 and later, the weather is still misty. 453.31: “hooked:” married; addicted 453.32…35: “communionistically…Drink it up!:” in the Catholic, as opposed to the Anglican, Communion, only the priest drinks the altar wine. Things are getting out of hand. 453.33: “lost of time:” eternity – that is, lots of time 453.33-4: “Johannisburg’s a revelation!:” 1. Revelations reveals our divine destination. 2. South Africa is the main supplier of diamonds. See next entry. 453.34: “Deck the diamants that never die:” In Book I of Spenser’s The Faerie Queene, St. George appears with a shield of diamond, covered (decked) from sight. Since 454.2 confirms that Jaun is also referring to a diamond engagement ring, “Deck” is also “take.” According to Google Books, the advertising slogan “A diamond is forever” first appeared in print in 1925. 453.35: “lower it:” the cup – to be refilled. The temperance meeting has become a boozy celebration, of either a real wedding or a celestial one. 453.36: “it! Out with lent!:” according to the Oxford editors, this should read “it, the last stirrup cup! Out with lent!” Clearly, with all the drinking going on, Lent is over. See 454.26 and note. 453.36: “Fastintide is by:” again Lent (see McHugh) is over. “By” as in gone by 454.1: “sole and myopper must hereupon part company:” 1. an exceedingly odd way of describing a parting between two friends or lovers: a shoe’s sole becoming detached from its (see McHugh) upper. 2. less eccentrically, an opera company’s soloist is striking out on his own. 454.2: “the wringle’s thine:” giving her the engagement ring 454.3: “This dime doth trost thee from mine alms:” the engagement ring (see previous entry) is, traditionally enough, a (“dime”) diamond. (“Thee” as in wedding ceremony: “With this ring I thee wed.”) Equally-oppositely, it divides them – thrusts her from his arms – and, as an American dime in the giving of “alms,” is, equally-oppositely, pretty cheap. (America’s most famous plutocrat, John D. Rockefeller, used to hand out dimes to children.) 454.4: “a letterman does be often be thought reading ye between lines:” 1. thought to be reading; 2. thought-reading; 3. reading between the lines 454.4-5: ‘does be…that do have:” idiomatic signs of rural or lower-class origins, probably affected 454.6-7: “I sign myself. With much leg. Inflexibly yours. Ann Posht the Shorn. To be continued. Huck:” again (compare 452.10-1 and note) anticipates FW’s last-first page. Here as there, the letter comes from ALP (as delivered by her son the postman) and will “be continued” on FW’s first page, in a sentence ending with HCE – “Huck,” “Howth Castle and Environs.” 454.7: “With much leg. Inflexibly:” to “make a leg” was to bow in a way which kept the front leg straight - that is, without bending (flexing) the knee. At this point (see previous entry) the letter’s delivery is a composite of (male) postman and (female) author. Here the male is predominant; at .20 he will be “(how like a woman!).” 454.7: “Huck!:” will be answered by Latin-lesson “hicky hecky hock” etc. of .15-16. 454.8: “sidesplitting:” the barrel’s staves are coming apart. 454.9: “westminstrel:” compare “Sirens:” “that minstrel boy of the wild wet west,” which Zack Bowen traces to the songs “The Minstrel Boy” and “The Men of the West.” 454.9-10: “stenorious:” stentorian (McHugh) spelled to accommodate “tenor,” which Jaun is. 454.10: “Drudge:” the manservant 454.9-12: “laugh…hopped out of his woolly’s throat like a ball lifted over the head:” compare “Nestor:” A coughball of laughter leaped from his throat dragging after it a rattling chain of phlegm.” “Ball in the throat” is the vernacular term for the condition named “Globus pharynges.” Jaun’s laugh was heard at .4: “Haugh! Haugh!” 454.13: “trolling his whoop:” to roll someone’s hoop is to hurry them along, make them get busy. Also, as in “doing the trick of the loop” from “Cyclops:” to have sex; see .14-5 and note. 454.13: “whoop:” as in whooping cough. See note to .9-12. 454.13-4: “in misammen massness:” misses – the girls - en masse 454.14 : “massness:” Jaun is, in part, a priest; the mass was, at the time, in Latin; an introductory Latin lesson will follow (.15-6); for about the next twenty lines there will be a high percentage of Latinate words or Roman references. “Jokable” (.16), for instance, derives from Latin jocus. 454.14-5: “were just starting to spladher splodher with the jolly magorios:” gist: they were (finally) making out with guys, the main reason being that the officious Jaun is leaving. 454.14: “spladher splodher:” splatter splatter: back to Issy’s companions as twenty-eight swanlets, splattering in the river water with “their eight and fifty pedalettes” (430.9) 454.19-20: “Beauty parlous:” perilous beauty – a version of the “cruel fair” of courtly love 454.20-2: “swifter as mercury…with his gimlets blazing:” As the Roman messenger god, Mercury is notable for swiftness. As the planet Mercury, it has the shortest orbit around the sun. As the element Mercury, it is both shiny and, well, mercurial – released on a surface, it moves very swiftly. 454.21: “wheels right round starnly:” astern(ly): language of navigation, for instance on a sternwheeler riverboat. That the riverboat pilot Mark Twain will show up in the vicinity (455.29) is, by FW practice, not surprising. 454.21: “on the Rizzies:” This phrase appears in the 1928 transition. The first Google Books citation of “putting on the Ritz” is 1929. Irving Berlin’s song “Puttin’ on the Ritz” debuted in 1930. See next entry. 454.21: “Rizzies:” as in “ritzy,” after Ritz Hotel: posh, glamorous 452.22: “his gimlets blazing rather sternish (how black like thunder!):” as McHugh notes, gimlet-eyes – here standing out like stars against his, as the expression went, black or dark look (compare 188.4), which usually includes a stern contraction of the eyebrows. Jaun is heading for the “heaven garden” (.30), with its stars. 454.24: “how ill soufered:” H I S – he/his, but mainly: Shaun has just turned his back, and, as Bloom, who thinks it stands for “I Have Suffered,” observes in “Lotus-Eaters,” the back of a priest’s vestments read “I H S.” Again, Jaun is, in part, a Catholic priest. 454.24-5: “cried (the salt of the earth):” Tears are salty. 454.25: “pondered:” given that he’s taking on water and will eventually, sink, includes Latin pondus: weight. 454.26: “a word apparting:” 1. a word apart – entre nous conversation. 2. parting word, variation on the FW theme of the “parting cup” or Deoch an Dorais. (See note to 453.36.) 454.27: “heart’s tone:” hearthstone 454.27: “Engagements, I’ll beseal you:” I’ll be seeing you. Diamond engagement rings (for instance 454.2) feature frequently in the chapter. This line suggests that Jaun has pledged himself to all the girls. 454.27-8: “Fare thee well, fairy well:” Fare thee well, fairy dale: a version of the chorus from, for instance, the song “Fare thee well, Eniskillen.” 454.29: “thumping:” In “Lotus Eaters,” Bloom refers to missionary types as “crawthumpers.” 454.31: “passed:” as in “passed away.” 454.31: “all serene:” see 452.23-4 and note. 454.32: “neck and necklike:” neck and neck 454.32: “necklike Derby:” Derbyshire neck: goiter. (Mentioned in “Oxen of the Sun”) 454.32: “Derby and June:” as McHugh notes, Darby and Joan – a poetic formula for “snug” (.32) love-in-a-cottage marital bliss, domestic contentment despite modest means. Diametrically opposed to (“puncheon jodelling” (.445.2)) Punch and Judy (compare note to 454.36-455.1): there will be “No petty family squabbles Up There” (.36), amid the stars of the “heaven garden” (.30). 454.32-3: “to our snug eternal retributioner’s reward (the scorchhouse):” as Mink notes, the Scotch House, with its “snug,” is a Dublin pub. As, also, hell, an FW equal-opposite 454.33: “Shunt us! Shunt us! Shunt us!:” end of “The Wasteland:” “Shanti shanti shanti.” Joyce, in a parody, made fun of it: “Shan’t we? Shan’t we? Shan’t we?” – the point being Eliot’s Anglophile “Shan’t.” 454.34: “Sacred ease:” Socrates. Probably, by way of Dante, one of the virtuous pagans on the edge of hell. As McHugh notes, the Elysian Fields show up in .36, after .35’s “Tuat,” the Egyptian underworld. 454.36-455.1: “homemade hurricanes:” hurricane: can be a large (and boisterous) party, but here mainly the kind of extreme marital discord exemplified by Punch and Judy: apocalyptically apoplectic hurling of, for instance, cups, along with much punching and yelling (455.1-2). 454.35-6: “Seekit headup!” given Shaun’s (usual) politics, probably an echo of “Sieg Heil!” 455.2: “jodelling:” yodeling – here, as an example of earthbound raucousness 455.2-3: “With the Byrns which is far better:” in context – Jaun is saying that afterlife, therefore death, is far superior to life – possible overtones of Tyburn, England’s main execution site, and Sydney Carton’s foot-of-the-guillotine “It is a far better thing that I do, than I have ever done.” Also, Byron: as McHugh notes, a Byron poem is quoted at .3. 455.2: “nor no nothing:” death is not extinction: there is an afterlife. Also, for this passage in general: according to Jesus, one of heaven’s distinctions is that there will be “no marriage, and no giving in marriage” – no Punch and Judy. 455.4: “the old wife in her new bustle:” perhaps obvious: A bustle was an article of female underwear, out of sight but designed to improve the figure. 455.5-6: “fulldress Toussaint’s wakesewalks experdition:” Wikipedia: “What is difference between all saints and All Souls Day?” “In the Catholic Church, ‘the faithful’ refers specifically to baptized Catholics; ‘all souls’ commemorates the church penitent of souls in purgatory, whereas ‘all saints’ commemorates the church triumphant of saints in Heaven... On this day in particular, Catholics pray for the dead.” All Soul’s Day, November 1, is of course preceded by Halloween, All-Hallows-Eve, when the dead walk. This entry mashes them up. All (French tous) saints, ex-perdition – out of Purgatory – are, as ghosts are said to do, walking, in the dead-alive context that always goes with FW’s “wake.” “Fulldress” probably denotes Halloween costumes. 455.5: “fulldress:” all the portraits of Toussaint L’Ouverture (.5) available on Google Images show him wearing what in the military is called a “full dress uniform.” 455.5: “Toussaint’s:” Again, All Saints. Also, see note after next. 455.5: “wakeswalks:” cakewalks: a cakewalk is a kind of stylized stroll once practiced by African-Americans. Toussaint L’Ouverture was black. 455.6: “experdition:” Again (see note to .5-6) ex-perdition: they have made it into heaven after a (hell-like) spell in Purgatory. Also, Jesus “descended into hell” before ascending into heaven. 455.6: “bail motion:” lawyer’s motion for bail for his/her client. (Obvious?) It has sprung “Toussaint” out of hell, the “chamber of horrus.” 455.7: “sovran bonhams:” summum bonum(s). 455.8: “give it a name:” Irish expression for: name your drink. 455.8: “Iereny allover Irelands:” As McHugh notes, this includes Greek eirêné, peace, but over a country one of Joyce’s poems renamed “Ire-land,” land of anger. Equal-opposites, of an ironic sort 455.9: “there’s food for refection when the whole flock’s at home:” 1. food for thought, when the family’s all together; 2. food for a meal, specifically lamb and mutton, when all the sheep are gathered (for slaughter) – heavily ironic, given that as priest Jaun is supposed to watch over his “flock’s” well-being. (Also, in lines .9-11, pork, and pig’s guts, and splatterings of pig’s smelly guts, hooray! (Compare “Great big gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts.”) Of the two brothers, Shaun is the enthusiastic carnivore: compare .30-6 with 170.32-171.2. The always-skinny Joyce was a drinker, not much of an eater; his work abounds in rebarbative descriptions of food and its consumption. ) 455.9-11: “Hogmanny…”di’yesmellyspatterygut?:” Native Gaelic being spoken on return to “the whole flock’s” – the old folks – at home. He’s dropped the Latin. 455.11-2: “You take Joe Hanny’s tip for it! Post martem is the goods. With Jollification a tight second:” Probably as part of an effort to fit in with the locals while back home, Jaun drops into racing-track talk. (For Irish priests and racetrack talk, see notes to 39.1-2, 341.34.) His tip from the stable is that one horse, something-“martem,” is a good bet to win, with another, “Jollification,” like to place a close second. 455.9-11: “Post-martem is the goods:” again, the afterlife, by way of death, is good, especially if reached via martyrdom. Compare “Circe”’s Old Gummy Grammy (Ireland’s Poor Old Woman) urging martyrdom on Stephen: “you will be in heaven and Ireland will be free.” The Mars of “martem” is another Roman deity, along with Mercury (454.20-1), Juno (454.32), and the jovial Jove of “Jollification” (.12). 455.12: “With Jollification a tight second:” as a way of getting into heaven, beatification runs a close second to martyrdom. (Etymologically, to “beatify” someone is to make them very, very happy.) Perhaps the capital “J” is, besides Jove, a trace of Jaun/John/John the Baptist: see next entry. 455.11: “Joe Hanny’s tip:” speaking of martyrs, John the Baptist, “Jokanaan” in “Wilde’s Salomé, tipping/dipping communicants into the river 455.13: “toburrow and tobarrow:” compare 479.24-5’s elision of “barrow,” “plagueburrow,” and “burialbattell.” Barrows were sites of Viking burials. 455.13-4: “evergrim:” evergreen, paired with the grimness of death: coinciding contraries 455.14: “Bouncer Naster:” the pub’s (nasty) bouncer, who announces when it’s closing time. 455.15: “stinkers:” in “Cyclops,” a “stinker” is a cigar, purchased and smoked in a pub. 455.16: “We may come, touch and go, from atoms and ifs but we’re presurely destined to be odd’s without ends:” Something “touch and go,” for instance a life in peril, can go either way – is iffy. “Odds and ends” are random bits and pieces. Given that “touch” is an Irish idiom for sex (“come” may also have its sexual meaning), it’s from life’s iffy beginning to its equally iffy destination, of – who knows? - heaven or hell. “Presurely destined” is either the original sin of (“atoms and ifs”) Adam and Eve or of Calvin’s predestinated salvation or damnation. If God set this all up, with his random atoms, that makes him, as usual, the original sinner. 455.17-8: “odd’s without ends. Here we moult in Moy Kain and flop on the seemy side:” see 453.8 and note on “oddments.” “Moult” (compare 196.17-8: “mouldaw stains”), “flop” (compare 214.21: “Flop!,” as the sound of a washerwoman slapping wet clothes against a rock), and “seemy” (seamy): human lives as tattered, soiled, used-up garments 455.18: “Here:” ere 455.18: “moult:” molder. (Even though the mummies in St. Michan’s (see McHugh) are known for not moldering) 455.20: “sandbag:” to be sandbagged is to be suddenly and unexpectedly smitten or crushed. 455.20-24: “But upmeyant, Prospector, you sprout all your abel and woof your wings dead certain however of neuthing whatever to aye forever while Hyam Hyam’s in the chair:” general sense: you can talk and flail away all you want, but you’re still not sure of getting into heaven so long as I’m the gatekeeper and God is the boss. Continues predestination option of .16-8. 455.21: “sprout:” spout – as in talking incessantly (here, trying to talk one’s way into heaven – or, by sprouting “wings,” trying to fly there) 455.21: “woof:” waft 455.21: “woof your wings dead:” compare Arnold on Shelley, “beating in the void his luminous wings in vain.” 455.23: “Hyam Hyam’s:” 1. I am. I am. 2. God to Moses: “I am what I am.” 3. Two (“I am”) iambs 455.23: “Hyam Hyam in the chair:” 1. I am the head man here. (Pub gatherings would choose “chairmen” to lead the festivities.) 2. “Chair” = French for flesh. Jesus was God in the flesh. (He will appear at .27 as “chrisman’s.”) 455.25: “Hereweareagain:” (Supplementing McHugh): “Here we are again” were (are?) the traditional words for the beginning of a Christmas pantomime – at the Gaiety, for example. See next entry. Also, Earwiggean 455.25-9: “the Afterpiece when the Royal Revolver of these real globoes lets regally fire his mio colpo for the chrismon’s pandemon to give to give over and the Harlequinade to begin proprly SPQueaRking Mark Tine’s Finist Joke:” it’s useful here to know that the harlequinade either follows or is the second half of the (“chrisman’s pandemon” (.27)) pantomime. An afterpiece is (OED) “an additional entertainment, spoken or sung, usually but not invariably comic, intended to be performed after a play or other theatrical work.” 455.26-7: “the Royal Revolver of these real globoes lets regally fire:” 1. a Viconian God, revolving the three ages plus Ricorso. 2. God/King as murderer, periodically shooting everyone in sight with his revolver. (“Fire” also probably alludes to the tradition that next time, Creation will be destroyed with fire, not flood waters.) 3. students were taught the use of “the globes” – one celestial, one terrestrial. (The term occurs in this sense in “Oxen of the Sun.”) God is the schoolmaster. 4. See McHugh: Shakespeare, with his Globe 455.27: “mio colpo:” God is the one with the mea culpa here. Your annotator, again, agrees with J.S. Atherton: FW embraces the ancient heresy that God was the original sinner and that creation was his original sin. 455.27-8: “Give over:” here, to cease and leave the stage to someone else 455.27: “colpo:” Italian for a blow, usually from a fist 455.29: “Finist Joke:” (God’s) final joke: probably death. As “Mark Time,” he recalls the picture of death, with his time-marking hourglass, given at .13-16. 455.29: “Allspace in a Notshall:” allspice is a berry but looks like a nut. 455.30: “slice and veg joint:” a kind of restaurant, offering a “slice” of meat and a “veg”etable 455.33: “lickfings:” licking fingers. Also, leavings 455.34: “stewhard:” Jaun is talking about eating oysters (“natives” (.35)), famous as aphrodisiacs. “Stew” is slang for brothel. 455.35: “The crisp of the crackling is in the chawing:” “chawbacon:” an uncouth rustic, supposed to eat only bacon 456.1: “I ingoyed your pick:” compare “The Sisters:” “Mr Cotter might take a pick of that leg of mutton.” 456.2: “hissing:” a tea kettle hisses when the water is boiling. 456.3: “Tenderest bully:” bully beef was famously tough. 456.3: “boiled protestants:” according to Petr Skrâbanék, “protestants” here (and at .23) = “potatoes, jocularly from Ir. prátaí (potatoes).” One tradition, remembered by Bloom in “Lestrygonians,” is that during the Famine the British government distributed potato soup on the condition that the recipients convert to Protestantism. Also, see .12 and note. As McHugh notes, this is repeated at .23, with the “x”s as consonants and the “o”s as vowels. 456.3: “(allinoilia):” the Protestants are all boiled in oil. Compare to .15-6, where, like Saint Lawrence, the orthodox are being burned alive on grills. 456.5: “hereby return:” a burp or, perhaps, a gastric “repeat” – reverse of food’s “godown” (.5) 456.5-6: “with my best savioury condiments:” as in, compliments to the chef 456.6: “a penny in the plate:” both collection plate and a tip for the waiter. (Compare “quid” of .9.) 456.7: “O.K.:” probably the most distinctive of all American expressions, here counterpointed with “Ah Ireland! A.I.” (The latter (as “AI”) is traditionally a mournful sign imprinted on the hyacinth, testifying to the death of Hyacinthus.) Implication is that America is bumptiously expansive, Ireland a land of laments. 456.7-8: “And for kailkannonkabbis gimme Cincinnatis:” again, as a 30.12-3, according to tradition, Cincinnatus was “working among his cabbages” when summoned to battle. 456.8: “Italian…ciccalick cheese:” McHugh notes “cheese” as an example of the “difficulty of pronouncing Italian c.” As remarked earlier, the same is true of “cicira,” (or plural “ciciri”), Italian for “chickpea.” During the Sicilian Vespers (“Vespri siciliani”), French speakers who could not speak this word with the Italian pronunciation (“che-cha-re,” not “sis-sa-re”) were slaughtered. See 21.18-9 and note. 456.9: “quid:” British slang for pound 456.10-1: “And save that, Oliviero, for thy sunny day:” reverse of expression: save for a rainy day. Olive trees require much sunlight. Also, given quote from Cromwell at .13-4 (see McHugh), probably Oliver 456.12: “pullll it awn:” lawn: a kind of linen. Also, given context, echo of “pullover” sweater. The llll” imitates the stretching act of pulling it on. 456.13: “’twill:” a fabric used in making clothes 456.13-4: “Remove this boardcloth:” in context, broadcloth (see McHugh) connotes clothing that is sturdy, business-like, unpretentious. He is having it replaced with much dressier items: the very best furs, linen, satin – fashionable ware from “Huguenot ligooms” (.14-5), the Huguenot looms known for the high quality of their textiles. (See next entry.) He will repay the Huguenots with persecution: burning them alive, for instance (.15-6). 456.15: “set on edges:” satin edges: a feature of some (fancy) clothing 456.15: “aigrydoucks grilled over birchenrods:” again: the orthodox (as well as the opposite) are being burnt on grills. Also, grilled duck, with (“ligooms” (.15)) legumes and florets of (“bloomancowls:” see McHugh) cauliflower. (Compare the online recipe “Duck Fat Roasted Cauliflower,” or, to switch cruciferiae, the cabbage “graize”d with the fat of “Nell Flaherty’s duckloving drake,” in “Circe.”) 456.17: “I want to get outside monasticism:” insofar as monasticism means austerity, he’s certainly outside of it: self-imposed scarcity is not for him. 456.18: “Nuts for the nerves:” 1. today, many kinds of nuts are recommended by dieticians as beneficial to the brain and nervous system. 2. in Joyce’s day, mainly because of its caffeine content, the kola nut in particular was supposed to be good for the nerves: hence the (originally medicinal) Coca-Cola. 456.20: “spice isles:” Spice Islands: euphemism for either privy or anus. See next entry. 456.20: “curry and cinnamon, chutney and cloves:” abbreviation: c.a.c, c.a.c. Given context (see previous entry), a childish word for excrement 456.21: “in chewn:” in tune (goes with (“hormonies”) harmony). Also, the different flavors mingle together (OED: “sozzle:” “to mix or mingle in a sloppy manner”) in the process of chewing. 456.23: “xoxxoxo and xooxox xxoxoxxoxxx:” he’s talking with his mouth (very) full, producing sozzled (see previous) sounds. 456.24: “fustfed:” fist-fed: he’s cramming food into his mouth by the fistful. 456.25: “ryuoll on my usual rounds:” “ryuoll:” roll. “Rounds:” wheels. Also, royal, as in Royal Mail; Brendan O Hehir traces “ryuoll” to Gaelic for kingly. Also, probably “appointed rounds,” from “Neither snow nor sleet…” etc. 456.27: “the roomiest house:” equal-opposites: as the roomiest house, a Big House for the gentry; as a rooming house, for the hoi-polloi 456.28: “understamp:” to send a letter with insufficient postage. As postman, he will be out to “collect for it at .29-31. 456.29-31: “I’ll try and collect my extraprofessional postages owing to me by Thaddeus Kellyesque Squire, dr, for nondesirable printed matter:” I’ll (try to) blackmail him for receiving pornographic mailings (which I, by request or otherwise, delivered to his address). Compare 457.2: “blackmail him I will.” “Extraprofessional:” a euphemism: an off-the-books payment, for instance blackmail 456.30: “dr:” as an abbreviation for “doctor,” this raises the possibility that the pornography is, or pretending to be, a medical text. (In Portrait, Stephen is sexually aroused by the word “foetus” in the desk of a medical school’s classroom. Also, compare Aristotle’s Masterpiece, in Ulysses.) 456.30: “Kellyesque Squire:” Kelly, Esquire 456.31: “The Jooks and the Kelly-Cooks:” since “Kelly-Cooks” links back to “Kelly” in the preceding line, the “him” first introduced at .34 is probably him/them. 456.31-3: “The Jooks and the Kelly-Cooks have been milking turnkeys and sucking the blood out of the marshalsea since the act of First Offenders:” the Kallikaks inhabited a swampy region of New Jersey (“Kelly” adds an Irish strain); swamps breed mosquitoes; mosquitoes suck blood. 456.33: “the act of First Offenders: “First Offenders Act:” 1. especially with the underage, the first commission of a serious crime. 2. An 1887 governmental act addressing such cases, enabling judges a certain degree of lenience. 3. Probably Adam and Eve 456.33-5: “great pains off him I’ll take…window machree:” window panes. Castletown House (see McHugh) features hundreds of of windows, including what its website calls the “eight huge windows” of its “Long Gallery.” Given the bill-collector-beating-at-the-door scenario, Britain’s window tax, in effect until 1851, is probably part of the story here: householders commonly responded by taking off the (“pains”) panes and bricking up the frames. 456.35: “window machree:” “Widow Machree,” by Samuel Lover, is sung by an amorous (and hungry) suitor at the door or window of a well-fixed widow, pleading to be admitted and accepted in marriage. However lovestruck, he is also interested in (“Ameal” (457.4)) a meal. 457.1 “Connolly’s:” minor correction to McHugh: the name is spelled “Conolly.” 457.1: “Saint Collopys:” see McHugh. The main point here, again, is food: “Collop Monday” (traditional food: either bacon and eggs or just bacon), then “Pancake Tuesday” (pancakes), followed by the first day of Lent, with its ordained privations. 457.4: “me fine fee. Ameal:” my fine female? 457.5: “Well, here’s looking at ye!:” as in the later Casablanca, a toast – in this case for a parting cup 457.5-6: “If I never leave you biddies till my stave is a bar I’d be tempted rigidly to become a passionate father:” sexual innuendo in overplus: an iron bar would be like a petrified (wooden) stave, on a “rigidly” “passionate” man; employing it might make her pregnant and him a father. 457.5-6: “till my stave is a bar:” to turn a musical stave into a bar, add notes. Compare 135.35: “the song of sparrownotes on his stave of wires.” As McHugh points out, this in turn recalls a line from Portrait: on a train trip, “telegraph poles held the galloping notes of the music between punctual bars.” 457.7: “Me hunger’s weighed!...Me anger’s suaged!:” My hunger’s assuaged. 457.9: “wish and wish:” “wisha wisha:” Irish expression for “indeed, indeed.” Compare 19.5. Here, seems to signal the beginning of Issy’s voice, joining and then supplanting Jaun’s: note her words following - “Meesh, meesh” (.25) and “whisper my wish” (.30). 457.10: “a blessing in disguise:” in context (“the grame reaper” (.9), etc.) death – all in all, probably preferable, Jaun thinks, to living without Jaun. 457.10-1: “Devil a curly hair I care!:” see 456.8 and McHugh note:” “Cincinnatus” means “Curly hair.” Also see 458.31 and note, 458.32 and note. 457.12: “marauding me of my rights to my onus:” as McHugh notes, “onus” is anus. The highwaymen – or at least so he imagines - wants to both rob him and bugger him. “Marauding” probably includes overtone of “mauling” in 20’s sense of over-eager amatory touching. 457.12: “my rights to my onus:” as in marital rights, to my one and only 457.14: “galloper’s heels in the creamsourer:” Gulliver among the Brobdinagians: at one point he is dropped into a bowl of cream. Also, “galloper’s heels:” horseshoes; “creamsourer:” stomach, turning cream sour through digestion. (Also, less combatively, Jaun would show his heels – run away.) 457.15-24: “Console…whoosh!:” despite lack of new paragraph, much of this, and at least most of what follows, seems like Issy, answering Jaun. Best guess: at times, their voices are blending. 457.15: “drawhure:” as at line .26, Gaelic “dráher,” brother 457.15: “deelish:” slang for delicious, sometimes used to describe, among other things, an especially attractive person – a “dish.” (Jaun has just used the word “dished,” and some of the following is concerned with food.) 457.15-6: “There’s a refond of eggsized coming to you out of me so mind you do me duty on me!:” certainly sounds as if she’s saying that he’s gotten her pregnant so he’d better do the proper thing and marry her. More generally, “duty” as marital rights invoked at .12. (Compare “duty peck” of 397.17 – the husband’s pecker doing its “tiresome” marital duty.) As there, the voice is mostly a duet, between Jaun and Issy. 457.16: “refond:” another memory of the letter as it appears on page 111 – “fondest” (111.17). From at least 454.6-7, the talk has been intermittently about FW’s letter, specifically as presented at 111.10-234. 457.17: “due me duty on me:” perform your sexual/marital duty. Also, “duty” in the sense of tax 457.17-8: “Bruise your bulge below the belt till I blewblack beside you:” his bulge below the belt is, of course, an erection. She wants him to perform his marital duty until his penis is bruised and she’s black and blue. (Alternatively, she wants him to keep it under control - by main force, if necessary - until they’re back together: no interim fooling around with other women.) Also, as a duet: Jaun to Issy, telling her to hide, or worse, her pregnant belly 457.18-9: “as the narrowing weeks wing by:” waxwings (“weeks wing”) flock to Ireland in the winter months/weeks. 457.20: “look for me always at the west:” “Look to the west for me,” from “The Shade of the Palm,” one of the songs in “Sirens,” about separated lovers 457.21-2: “A tear or two in time:” besides weeping a tear, tear in the sense of rip, or, here, forced parting – lovers torn apart. Next three lines are consolatory: there’s nothing to it; in no time, “a click of the clock,” Jaun will return in style and we’ll be back together. 457.22: “toot toot, and doff doff:” spondees; at .28 Issy answers her “male corrispondee.” (Compare .25 and note.) 457.22: “sinnerettes:” young female sinners; possible allusion to Ernest Dowson’s Cynara. See 459.19-20 and note. Here, they are lining the route along which “His…Majesty” is riding in his “Diligence” (.23), a coach. As recalled in “Ivy Day in the Committee Room” and “Cyclops,” Edward VII visited Ireland in 1903. Pictures of the tour show him in different coaches or automobiles. 457.23-4: “His Diligence Majesty, our longdistance laird:” a diligence is a coach used for traveling long distances. 457.24: “To whoosh:” sound of coach rushing by 457.25: “—“Meesh, meesh:” answers “toot toot” of .22: a variation of the “mishe mishe to tauftauf” introduced at 3.10. Also see .27-8 and note. 457.26: “drawher:” again: brother 457.27: “Tizzy:” Issy is in a tizzy. 457.27-8: “dove and dart eyes:” Gaelic: “dubh Dart-shuile:” black “heifer eyes.” Also, “eyes” = (two) I’s = ii = the dots (see 244.30) of the ii’s (..) = Morse code for “I” = a pyrrhic (the response to T’s spondee; see first note to .22) = Issy’s standard FW signature. Hence, in follow-up, “male corrispondee” (.28), then the two i’s in “whisper my whish” (.30). 457.28-9: “as she tactilifully grapbed her male corrispondee:” certainly sounds like what Nora did for Joyce on June 16, 1904. See 459.26 and note. Also, legally, a “co-respondent” is the third party in an adultery. Parnell was an example. 457.28: “tactilifully:” dactyl. ”dove and dart eyes as she” (.27-8) can be read as two dactyls. 457.30-1: “(She like them like us:” most writers would probably have put commas after “She” and “them.” 457.31: “thoud:” vowed. Also, thou-ed: to have addressed someone as “thou.” “Scylla and Charybdis:” “He thous and thees her with grave husbandwords.” 457.32: “engine dear:” not, I hope, to belabor, but see .28-9 and note; in Fanny Hill and other erotica, an “engine” is an erection. Also (McHugh), see 146.19-20, where, as Glasheen notes, an “engine dear” is the Duc d’Enghien, murdered by Napoleon. Here as there, a romantic interest 457.33: “throttle:” goes with engineer of “engine dear” (.32) 457.34: “nosepaper:” would be tissue paper. As one version of FW’s letter, correlates with earlier testimony that, either in origin or with age, the paper is as thin and friable as “tracing” paper (107.10), pitted and marked with ink sinking through from the reverse side. 457.34-5: “my precious:” frequently Issy’s address to her lover 457.35: “allathome I with grief can call my own:” all I have at home. Also, compare the letter of page 111: “allathome’s health” (111.11) – all at home are in good health 458.1-2: “in second place of a linenhall valentino:” she’s sending the message on (second-best) notepaper because she doesn’t have a proper valentine available. Linen paper is expensive – the kind that might be used for such special occasions. (Since in Joyce’s time Dublin’s Linen Hall was a barracks, a Linen Hall lover-boy might not be all that great a catch.) Again, reverts back to letter of page 111. Also, see next entry. 458.2-3: “with my fondest and much left to tutor. X.X.X.X.:” see 111.17 and note: “twoinns with four crosskisses.” Again, one reason your annotator believes that 1938 is FW’s default year. Letters were customarily dated at the end, after the closing – here, “with my fondest” – and, then as now, the year number was sometimes limited to the last two digits: not 1938 but ’38. The four X’s equal Roman-numeral forty, preceded by a plausible version of “two” – IIXXXX: 38. 458.3: “bulledicted for young Fr Ml”:” along with (McHugh) papal bull and benediction, interdicted, one example being most of the letters of the “Father Michael” of 111.15 – again, the FW letter. 458.4: “you know who between us:” compare “Nausicaa:” “Gerty knew Who came first” - Jesus. Long shot: dancing couples were sometimes cautioned to “leave room for the Holy Ghost” between their bodies. (Compare 462.23-4.) Also, old joke: man to woman: “I’d like to get something straight between us.” 458.4: “pettest parriage priest:” her pet parish priest. “Petting” at the time signified amatory caresses, fondling, etc. Yet another example of Joyce’s suspicions of priests in their relations with women. “Parriage,” probably, because priests perform marriages – in Joyce’s version sometimes, like Chaucer’s “frere,” to dispose of former mistresses 458.4: “pettest parriage:” overtone of “Pease Porridge” (hot) 458.5: “your friend the pope:” notable that she doesn’t say “our friend.” One reason is probably Jaun’s presumed devoutness. 458.6: “scene it:” sign it. See next entry: the pope has signed a (“bulledicted” (.3)) papal bull. 458.6: “ratty:” see McHugh. Worth noting, I think, that the papacy of Achille Ratti/Pius XI was from 1922 to 1939, corresponding with the years of FW 458.8: “bear it with you:” compare 628.6:” I’ll bear it [a leaf, including sense of leaf from a book] on me.” Also, yet another connection to FW’s letter, ALP’s concluding monologue, including “bear it on me,” being its most extended version 458.8: “morn till life’s e’en:” poetic contraction for morning and evening. Life’s evening would be old age or death. 458.9-10: “please kindly think galways again or again, never forget, of one absendee not sester Maggy:” please, when you leave, think of someone who isn’t with you – that is, of me, not Maggy. “Sester” echoes Swift’s two Esthers, a major FW motif introduced at 3.12. As Glasheen notes, some version of “Anders” – here, I think, discernible in “absendee” – is “sometimes the sender of the letter,” though here it would be the sendee, not the sender. Also, ABC 458.10: “Ahim:” French “à,” English “him:” he should “bear” the letter to him, her “fiancy” (.7) fiancé. 458.11-2: “catch your cold:” I suggest that this is a contraction of the common expression “catch your death of cold.” 458.13: “Joke:” a plausible-enough translation of “Joyce” 458.13-4: “a sprig of blue speedwell just a spell of floralora so you’ll mind your veronique:” in (“floralora”) floral lore, that is, the language of flowers, speedwell stands for fidelity. The Veronica genus is in fact blue. Also, she wants the letter to go speedily. For “blue,” see McHugh’s note to .24. 485.14-6 “veronique…on the face of the waters:” Saint Veronica, traditionally represented as wearing blue, gave Jesus her veil to wipe the sweat – water – from his face, which face was left imprinted on its surface. As McHugh notes, this also alludes to Genesis 1:2, “the spirit of God moved on the face of the waters” – God, in another person of the Trinity. Joyce said that Shaun/Jaun/Yawn’s course through Book III tracked the fourteen stations of the cross, going backward. There is no agreement about most of them, but this would clearly be station number 6. See also note to .16. 458.15: “I know you know who:” contains expression “you know who” 458.16: “on the face of the waters like that film:” Google Books shows that water’s surface tension was and is often described as or compared to a “film.” Given context, an allusion to Jesus’ walking on water, perhaps with a comparison to water-striders. Also, probably, Issy’s face in the looking-glass, often read as the face of her “linkingclass girl Madge” – Marge (see next page, 459.5). (Compare, for this and all other presentations of Issy/Marge, Issy/mirror, Picasso’s Girl Before A Mirror.) 458.18: “please too write:” please do write 458.19: “leave your little bag of doubts, inquisitive, behind you unto your uttering thine:” in writing your letter, hold off on any reservations until you’re finished, when you sign off with something like “Utterly thine.” 458.19: “inquisitive:” Inquisitor. Fits Jaun 458.21: “by return:” when, in “Sirens,” Martha Clifford asks Bloom to write “by return,” she means “right away,” preferably on the very same day. (In Joyce’s time there were several mail deliveries in the course of one day.) 458.21-2: “in case I couldn’t think who it was or any funferall happens:” in case I either forget the name of the sender or he dies 458.22: “funferall:” compare 111.15: “funferall” as it appears in the (supposedly) original FW letter 458.23: “Homesworth:” as McHugh notes, A. C. W. Harmsworth, those first home was in Chapelizod. 458.23: “breakfast tablotts:” “breakfast tablets:” vanilla, cocoa, or chocolate in tablet form, thought to be good for the “system” (.24). Also, as in “Calypso,” double sense of medical and newspaper tabloids, in this case originating with Harmsworth, the newspaper magnate. Also, compare 124.3-12, where the letter as presented on p. 111 is being read by Oliver Wendell Holmes of Harvard Yard and scrutinized by a detective – Sherlock Holmes, no less - from Scotland Yard. 458.23: “eitherways:” otherwise. Also, by way of the ether: the letter seems to double with a radio here. 458.25: “gorgiose:” Joyce’s son, a singer, was named Giorgio. Also, “gorgios” is a gypsy word for a non-gypsy, specifically a policeman. Compare 404.24-5. 458.26: “the ten and the one with nothing at all on:” compare “Sirens,” where Bloom sends Martha a postal order for a half crown - that is, two and six. Here, the amount seems to be ten pounds, one shilling, no pence. 458.26-7: “I will tie a knot in my stringamejip to letter you:” I will tie a string around my finger to remind myself to send you a letter. (Compare 143.23-4: “when knotting my remembrancetie.”) Anticipates Incan quipu (see 459.3) and Catholic rosary 458.27: “silky paper:” tissue paper for sure, but “silk paper” is the fanciest kind of paper. A step up even from linen paper (.1-2) 458.29: “special:” special delivery 458.30: “I am getting his pay:” presumably from her (“fiancy” (.7)) fiancé. 458.31: “kinkless:” not being black, he does not have kinky hair - hence his hair’s “loops of loveliness.” Compare next entry. 458.32: “When I throw away my rollets there’s rings for all:” rollers for making ringlets – or loops - in the hair. Even without them, her hair is so naturally curly – a fashion desideratum, in the FW years – that she could send curled locks to anyone (suitors, presumably) who asks for them. In fact she’s so proud of her hair that (.30-1), with enough money, she can “live simply and solely” for it alone. (Pertinent that the FW letter includes “whiplooplashes” (119.12).) 458.33: “So does B and L and as for V!:” McHugh points out that this is the “Floh and Luse and Bienie and Vespatilla” of 414.25. It follows I think, that .32’s “Flee a girl” is “Floh,” a variant of Flo or Flora. 458.33-459.6 “And listen…man:” mainly, describes a singing lesson. She is practicing vowels before the mirror (Tim Martin, an accomplished singer, informs me that “Singing after all is basically about vowels.”) before an instructor, who is coaching (Martin again: “there is always a lot of emphasis on what the mouth should look like when the vowels are correctly formed.” Compare second entry for .34, first entry for .36) on how to shape her mouth. 458.34: “Cheveluir! So distant you’re always:” probably Maurice Chevalier - a popular singer of the time, especially in Paris, where Joyce was – coming over the radio. In any case, a French honorific, comparable to being knighted in Britain. Also goes with .31’s comments about the lover’s cheveux, hair. 458.34: “Bow your boche:” form your mouth in the shape of a bow. Also, Clara Bow, with her perfect “rosebud” mouth: “we will soon get “ringarosary” and “mouthbuds”(459.2-3). 458.36: “oval awes and artless awes:” yet another alpha-omega, this time doubled and backwards, probably because she’s looking in a mirror: see note to 458.33-459.6. 458.36: “pulpicly:” religiously (pulpit); pupilly: she’s his pupil taking singing lessons 459.1-2: “my sapphire chaplets of ringarosary:” many rosaries have colored beads, varied either individually or by chaplet. Going “around the rosary” for prayers recalls “Ring-around-the-roses.” 459.2 “Allmichael:” besides Michael (either “Father Michael” – another echo of the letter of page 111 (111.15), or the archangel), Almighty. 459.3: “qui pu:” see McHugh. Like rosaries, the Incan quipu is for keeping track of numbers; like some rosaries, it comes in different colors. 459.3-4: “dovedoves…(msch! msch!):” yet another example of 1. “tauftauf,” “mische mische” (3.9-10); 2. spondee and pyrrhic 459.4: “linkingclass:” by analogy with “linkboy,” a lower-class menial who carried torches (“links”) for others at night 459.5: “poor old dutch:” see McHugh:” the “my old Dutch” of the song is the singer’s elderly – hair turned white, etc. – but still beloved wife. Here, her skin has become spotty and she’s getting a moustache. 459.5-6: “paint the measles on her:” measles are spots on the skin; “macula” is Latin for “spot:” one recurring difference between Issy and Madge is that the former is immaculate and the latter maculate. In view of the previous entry, these may also be the liver spots of aged skin – Madge is uglier because she’s older: her hair is greying and she’s sprouting a moustache. 459.6: “mudstuskers:” idea of tusks/moustaches may come from cat’s whiskers. 459.6: “to make her a man:” compare 135.32-3: “when older links lock older hearts then he’ll resemble she.” As they age, the sexes come to resemble one another – in this case, not good news for a girl or woman concerned with her appearance. 459.6: “We. We:” probably “weewee,” infantile talk for urine: this is what Issy has “done” (.6). Also see 456.20. 459.8: “sickly black stockies:” either silky black stockings or black silk stockings – either way, erotic. (Or formerly erotic, when new.) Oxford editors insert “What class she shows! And” before “sickly.” Silk stockings were long synonymous with the upper classes. May be relevant that cats can have “stockings:” white or black markings at the feet 459.8: “cleryng’s jumbles:” see McHugh. A jumble sale is a rummage sale, typically on behalf of charity – here, one sponsored by the clergy. It’s where Madge, the poor one, got her stockings (now, not so much silky as sick) perhaps her boots as well. Another source is (“salvaged” (.8)) salvage sales. In other words, everything she wears is second-use or hand-me-downs. 459.8: “salvadged:” selvage, otherwise spelled “selvedge.” (Latter spelling occurs in “Circe.”) Wikipedia defines as “self-finished edge of a fabric.” The black stockings would have selvages. 459.9: “the wash:” common term for an estuary – in Ireland, the Shannon Estuary 459.9: “the cat’s tonsils:” Google Books has one instance of this expression, from 1921, meaning: something amazing. Probably a variation of “the cat’s pajamas,” a popular expression of the 20s 459.9-10: “how she tidies her hair:” woman’s hair as tidal river – a major FW motif 459.10: “sosiety for me:” society for me; enough (satiety) for me. Recalls “sosie sesthers” (3.12) – again, Swift’s two Esthers 459.12: “scorns:” scones, pronounced as “scons.” 459.14: “but nice:” evidently no genetic support, but along with “apart from that” of .17, this would seem to make more sense as “nice but.” 459.15: “she breaksin me shoes:” maidservants would wear their mistress’s newly-purchased shoes for a spell, thus breaking them in. See next entry. 459.16: “arch trouble:” foot trouble 459.16-18: “she would kiss my white arms…round the elbow:” Kissing one’s elbow is an example of something impossible to do. When my mother was a child, she was told that if she could kiss her elbow she would turn into a boy. 459.18-9: “round the elbow of Erne street Lower:” ? As Mink notes, Erne Street is “straight from one end to the other.” Maybe – see previous entry – yet another impossibility 459.19-20: “true in my own way:” Ernest Dowson, “Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae:” “I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.” 459.20: “betrue you:” be true to you, betray you 459.21-2: “not once well he betray himself:” the third party in the romantic triangle (the “latest” lad of .23) will not give himself away. 459.22: “Can’t you understand? Oh bother:” compare 627.14-5: “A hundred cares, a tithe of troubles, and is there one who understands me?” (“Oh bother” is an English expostulation expressing annoyance, here, because the answer to her question is in the negative. Also, the latest variant on words for “brother.”) One of several moments in this sequence anticipating ALP’s farewell: compare, for instance, 460.2 with 628.15. 459.22: “bother:” brother 459.23-4: “Pity bonhom:” petite pig. Compare the French prostitutes remembered in “Proteus:” “Nous ferons de petite cochonneries.” Also, French petit bonhomme:” little boy – here, I suspect, a term for the penis. See note to .26. 459.24: “trouth!:” combines “truth” with “troth,” as in “betroth,” earlier adumbrated by “betrue,” “betrue,” “betreu,” and “betray” (.20-1). 459.25: “Pip pet:” again, Morse code, plus pyrrhic, plus stage-English “Pip pip!” Various sources identify “pip” as an acronym for “peeing in pants,” meaning funny. See next three entries. 459.25: “cocksure:” as Ulysses shows, Joyce was familiar with “cock” as slang for penis. See next entry. 459.26: “Why I love taking him out when I unlatched his cordon gate:” not to be coy, this describes the preliminaries to a hand job – what Nora did with Joyce on their first date. “Unletched” includes “letch;” a cordon is a barrier. “Garden gate” is Cockney rhyming slang for mate (note “cocksure” (.25) and “second mate” (.35)), but here it seems closer to signifying a man’s trouser fly – a British version of the American “Your barn door is open.” 459.27: “Ope, Jack, and atem!:” jack off, as from a jack-in-the-box. (See previous four entries, and compare 243.30.) In some versions of the story (see McHugh), Atem’s creation of the world is accomplished through masturbation. 459.28: “He fell for my lips, for my lisp:” compare 23.23: “With lipth she lithpeth to him.” 459.28: “my lewd speaker:” talking dirty during sex, something Joyce definitely encouraged in Nora 459.29-30: “There can be no candle to hold to it:” see McHugh. She’s holding his, ahem, candle. 459.30: “dear professor:” the professor here is probably Oliver Wendell Holmes, of Boston, the letter’s point of origin. See 124.9-10, 458.23. 459.32-3: “my first horsepower:” Joyce makes a similar joke in “Ithaca” – a candle giving off one candlepower of light. A single horse has one horsepower. Here, given the opposite-of-subtle context, some version of “hung like a horse” is surely in play. 459.33-4: “your lovely face of mine:” both 1. your face, but mine as well because you belong to me; 2. vice versa 459.34: “my boyish bob:” 1. boyish bobs were a popular woman’s hairstyle of the 20’s. Here, an example of the stylish looks that she will (not) sacrifice. 2. Also, an affectionate term, on the order of “beaming boy,” for the man addressed. 459.34: “donkeys:” probably abbreviates expression “donkey’s years,” meaning a long time 459.36: “whot a tell:” in some English idioms, “tell” can be either a bit of gossip or someone who conveys it. 460.1: “his wellingtons that you haven’t got:” the connection eludes me, but wellingtons are boots (compare the “hessians” of 459.7) and in “Circe” one of the prostitutes tells Stephen to “Ask my ballocks that I haven’t got.” 460.2: “lupstucks of yours thankfully:” sticky/stuck-together lips of me (i.e. yours truly) 460.2: “Arrah of the passkeys:” at 8.7, Kate was the one with the “passkey,” to the Willingdone museyroom. 460.3: ”You may be certain of that, fluff:” one of the places, I think, where you can detect Issy addressing her cat 460.4: “Lock my mearest next myself:” goes with Arrah-na-Pogue story, as revised by Joyce: the beloved is locked up until Arrah gives him the key. (In the play, it’s a written message; see note to 278 fn.1 lines 7-8.) Also, 1. Issy wants her dearest to be right next to herself. 2. Issy loves him more than anyone except for (next to) herself. 3. Advertising slogan of the time: “Next to myself, I like BVD best.” (In the context, BVD = underwear.) In the British Isles, the expression is: “next” something, not “next to.” “Mearest” probably includes an overtone of mirror. 460.5: “good boy:” goodbye 460.5: “fragrant saint:” favorite saint, plus odor of sanctity 460.6: “peppering with fear:” compare 343.35: “bibbering with vear” – trembling with fear 460.6: “goodless graceless:” Godless and graceless 460.7: “hvisper:” Hesperus/Vesper: Venus, the evening star, and, in the context (Issy, whispering to Jaun, is arranging an assignation), what Joyce in his poem “Bahnhofstrasse” calls “The trysting and the twining star,” its twilight appearance signaling the time for lovers’ meetings 460.8: “future poor fool’s:” future perfect’s 460.8-9: “fool’s circle of lovemountjoy square:” “fool’s circle:” full circle. Circling the square. Perhaps pertinent that Mountjoy Prison is circular in structure. Also, imbricated phrase: fool for love 460.9-10: “let me just your caroline:” Let me adjust your calendar. (Also, perhaps, adjust your crinoline) 460.10: “let me just your caroline for you I must really so late:” a rushed compaction of curtailed expressions: “Let me just [maybe “say” or “go”] [Here’s] your caroline [hat] for you I must really [be going] [it’s] so late.” This kind of thing occurs in Ulysses, especially in “Sirens.” 460.11: “louther and lover:” both loather and lover. Compare “lothing” of 627.17-8. 460.12: “the courts:” tennis courts: goes with (tennis-score “love” (McHugh) and “game” (.13, .15). 460.12: “beat me:” her other boyfriend, the jealous stalker (.11) will beat her if he finds out. 460.13: “who knows where:” Who goes there? 460.16-7: "Till the ulmost of all elmoes shall stele our harts asthone!:” as at the end of I.8, tree (elm) turns into stone. As McHugh notes, “stele” comes from Greek for a block of stone. 460.16-7: “ulmost of all elmoes:” the elmiest of elms 460.17: “stele our harts:” steal our hearts (compare 459.33) 460.17: “stele our harts asthone!:” feel our hearts as one. Also, Sinn Fein is sometimes (incorrectly) translated as “Ourselves alone.” Also, hearts of stone. Also, Brendan O Hehir traces “asthone” to Gaelic for both (my) precious (repeated at .19) and arse. 460.19: “gold pen and ink:” if “gold” modifies “ink” as well as “pen,” this is another FW reference (see, e.g. 122.22-3 and note) to the fact that some ink recipes included urine. Real gold ink was made by grinding gold into a solution. 460.20: “Jungfraud’s Messongebook:” French “songer á:” to dream. (Both Jung and Freud were interested in dreams.) Also, songbook. Also, German “messbuch:” missal 460.21: “this isinglass stream:” disagreement with McHugh: the isinglass is not primarily the gelatin of that name but what is also called “sea-glass” - mica as used for windows. (From Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Surrey with the Fringe on Top:” the surrey has “isinglass windows you can roll right down.”) For other FW isinglass windows, see 84.29, 415.28. Also, Issy’s lookingglass, doubling with (again: “sea-glass”) the reflective Liffey flowing out to sea, as far as (“boysforus” (.27)) the Bosphorus. 460.22: “be the mort of him:” see 210.23-4 and note, 316.21 and note. 460.22-3: “under the libans and the sickamours, the cyprissis and babilonias:” when he’s “under” the ground. Cypresses (of Lebanon) and sycamores are associated with death and graveyards; sycamores frequently accompany FW’s four old men. “Babilonias” is present, in this elegiac sentence, by way of “By the waters of Babylon I sat down and wept:” note “waters” two lines later. 460.22-3: “the libans and the sickamours:” the living and the sick. Also, “sickamours” – the lovesick 460.24: “frondoak:” oak frond 460.24: “yewleaves too kisskiss themselves:” riverside yew trees with the tips of their leaves touching the water and reflecting themselves. Also, again, spondee – pyrrhic, this time quantitatively scanned. “Too” = to. Like cypresses and sycamore (.22-3), yews are/were considered trees of death. Long shot: the two i’s in “kisskiss” may refer to the tradition that yew roots grew upwards through the eyeballs of the interred. 460.25: “hearz waves:” both “telepath”ically (.21) and by Morse code, transmitted wirelessly. Background: by Joyce’s time, medical science knew that the heart’s rhythms were neural – that is, controlled by electrical impulses – and there was wide speculation about “brainwaves:” that they were in essentially the same category as radio waves and could be telepathically transmitted. 460.25-6: “still waters:” Still waters run deep. 460.26: “Margrate:” in context, it’s pertinent that Margate is a coastal (English) town. 460.27: “her flavin hair:” her flaming hair. Hero and Leander (see note after next) are part of the picture here, and Hero is traditionally thought to have had red hair. 460.27: “Jack, ahoy:” Jack Tar, a British sailor; “ahoy” is conventionally a maritime salute. 460.27: “boysforus:” Leander swam the Bosphorus to reach Hero. Given (“Margrate” (.26)) Margate, perhaps a parallel between swimming Bosphorus and swimming English Channel 460.28-30: “Splesh of hiss splash springs your salmon. Twick twick, twinkle twings my twilight as Sarterday afternoon lex leap will smile on my fourinhanced twelvemonthsmind:” sounds of Leander swimming 460.28: “Splesh of hiss splash springs your salmon:” see previous entry: salmon spawning, with the sound of his splash as it leaps out of the water; erection happening, which, by way of penis = snake, is where the “hiss” comes in 460.29: “twilight:” Leander would swim at twilight, guided by Hero’s lamp. 460.31: “dean?” dear? 460.33: “Vanilla and blackcurrant:” either teacake (.32) or herbal tea. (Capitalization of “Vanilla” probably signifies that it comes first; Google Books confirms that recipes usually put “Vanilla” in front.) McHugh notes that “stueser” (.32-3) includes German “süsser” for sweeter: the offerings are spicy and sugary, which is perhaps why, out of concern for crumbliness or stickiness, they are “do-be-careful teacakes” (.32). 460.34: “till you’ll resemble me:” see 459.6 and note. 460.36-461.1: “when, by the end of your chapter, you citch water on the wagon:” Jaun will catch water and sink at the end of III.2, which is one of his chapters. 460.36: “joey:” may be pronounced “joy.” As McHugh notes, Joyce’s birthday, Candlemas, appeared on the previous line. 461.2: “two fesces:” two-faced: women fond of makeup (for instance Du Barry’s, or Pond’s Vanishing Cream (.2-3)) have been known to say things like “I haven’t got my face on.” (As a child, I overheard a friend of my mother’s say this, and it left a lasting mark.) Issy puts on her (other) face when applying makeup before the mirror; her looking-class working-class double Marge is her image before getting dolled up. 461.2: “Pouts:” women typically pout when applying lipstick. 461.2-3: “Pouts Vanisha Crème:” vanishing cream was marketed as making age spots and such disappear. Issy applies hers to make herself immaculate and feminine, as compared to Marge in the mirror, with her “measles” and mannish “mudstuskers” (459.5-6). As Pond’s Vanishing Cream (the brand is still around), it is also a pond into whose depths she vanishes, as at 146.32-3. Accordingly, this will be her last appearance in the chapter. That it is into a pond may be why she wants a raincoat (.5); she certainly gets wet. 461.3: “Creme, their way for spilling cream, and, accent:” Issy is half right: some cosmetic products did go by the (“spilling”) spelling “creme,” but not Pond’s. Also, “cream,” as at 164.18-9, was slang for semen, and Onan “spilled” his seed upon the ground: Issy is out to get men aroused. Also, in French, “crème” would be spelled thus, with an “accent.” 461.3-4: “umto extend my personnalitey:” “umto” is probably spelled this way to accommodate “umpty,” contemporary slang for very very very; compare 13.24, 345.18: she’ll use makeup and fashion to extend her latent personality to the maximum extent. Sounds as if based on the language of cosmetics ads: express your true glamorous self! 461.3-4: “extend my personnalitey to the latents:” as half of a split personality (for instance Christine Beauchamp vis-à-vis her double Sally, as reported in Morton Prince’s The Dissociation of Personality), she will bring out the latent one. 461.4: “latents:” latest (fashion) 461.4: “I’ll boy me for myself:” women’s fashions of the 20’s were often called “boyish.” (Compare 459.34.) 461.5: “pinked:” punctuated with holes. Obviously, (see McHugh) a bad idea for a raincoat. May mean that the fabric in question was trimmed with pinking shears 461.5: “pinked elephants:” I can’t see how it fits, particularly, but seeing pink elephants was, jokily, supposed to be a result of alcoholic overindulgence. 461.6: “airforce blue:” as in 458.20 and 458.24, the “bleu” paper of airmail envelopes 461.6: “widowhood:” among the array of clothing colors, this would be black, always in fashion, over gray. 461.8-9: “a crush on heliotrope:” as today, to have a crush on someone was to be infatuated. Also, crushing the flower heliotrope would produce the perfume heliotrope. 461.9: “heliotrope:” in flying skyward, the queen bee (see McHugh for .8-9) is heading heliotropically for the sun. Also, the color heliotrope, added to her other favorites, those being (so far) different shades of gray, pink, black, and blue. Also, probably a coincidence, since this is referring to the Duchess of York who preceded the one in the next entry: “The Duchess of York wore a heliotrope costume and a gold-coloured toque trimmed with ostrich plumes.” (May 25, 1899 issue of Truth, page 1366) 461.9-10: “the dusess of yore cycled round the Finest Park:” Peter Stansky, Sassoon: The Worlds of Philip and the Sybil: “Boylo took the Duchess of York for a flight and she was delighted. She is devoted to the Royal Air Force.” (Compare previous entries: the “airforce blue” (.6), the “skyhighdeed” (.7).) Also, if the Duchess bicycled around the park, she risked revealing the color of her drawers, which, if heliotrope, and noticed and approved by Issy at the time, would help explain why Issy’s heliotrope underwear matters so much in II.1. For contemporary concerns about the immodesty of female cyclists, see 437.3-7 and note, as well as Ulysses 13.436-7 and 18.838-9. 461.9-10: “the Finest Park:” see previous. A duchess could of course afford the finest of parks. Private parks were often features of English stately homes. 461.10-11: “And never mind me laughing at what’s atever! I was in the nerves, but it’s my last day:” Never mind! I’m laughing at whatever, because of nerves, because I’ve got my period, but it’s the last day. 461.11: “in the nerves:” in the news 461.12: “Bruin and Noselong:” bear and horse or dog (or both) 461.13: “afterdoon my lickle pussiness:” impossible not to read “lickle pussiness” as cunnilingus (“pussy” meant “vagina” since well before Joyce’s time), but this is also simply a regular visit to the privy for purposes of urination - after which, (“stheal heimlick” (.13-4)) stealing secretly back to the house, she’s mortified (see two notes to .15) that her bootsteps are making such a racket, attracting attention. (Then as now, (“-doon my lickle pussiness”) doing his/her /my (little”) business is a euphemism for excretion.) In FW, the sound of female urination is a predictable turn-on. 461.13: “all oh:” all over. (Also, alpha-omega.) 461.14: “russians:” Russian boots, up to the knees and furred at the tops, had a womans’-fashion vogue in the 20’s. See notes for .14-15 and .15. Although they were certainly tall, Issy is being hyperbolic in saying they go up to her “nape” (.16). 461.14…16: “russians…jennnyroll:” Russian general 461.14: “attraction part:” an attraction park: amusement park 461.14-15: “terriblitall:” see first entry for .14. Again, Russian boots were unusually tall. 461.15: “boots calvescatcher:” being tall, Russian boots would be prone to slap against the calves during walking. (See next entry.) Also, a train’s cowcatcher, here for calves instead 461.15: “Pinchapoppapoff:” again, the sound of her calves slapping against the insides of the boots, more noisily than she’d like. Also, typical jokey music-hall Russian name (compare “Vladinmire Pokethankerscheff” in “Cyclops”) – prompts (“jennyroll” (.16)) thoughts of Russian general. This tells us what his name will be. 461.15-6: “who is going to be a jennyroll:” jellyroll: African-American slang for vagina. See entry for .13, above; also next entry. 461.16: “drenched, love, with dripping:” the vagina is being lubricated (compare 453.11 and note) because of “affectionate” (.15-6) feelings for the lover being addressed, and the resulting wetness is mixed up with other fluids – menstrual blood (see .11 and note) urine (see .13 and note), and (“golden violents wetting” (.17-8)) blood from wedding-night deflowering - also, possibly, either in fact or fond memory, semen: compare Bloom to Bella in “Circe:” “your bully’s cold spunk is dripping from your cockscomb.” All in all, anticipates, in reverse, ALP’s valedictory “lothing” of “all the greedy gushes” and “lazy leaks” out of human souls and bodies (627-17-20). (Also, “dripping” is melted fat.) 461.17: “slapmamma:” more bluesy African-American dialect 461.17-18: “my golden violents wetting:” see first note to .13, note to .16. In FW, the sound of female urination is sexually provocative. Also, golden wedding anniversary. “Violet wedding” also shows up occasionally in society-page coverage of the time: some weddings had floral themes – rose weddings, for instance, and violet weddings. 461.18: “my upperstairs:” Issy’s room is upstairs. 461.19: “lidlylac:” Lydia Languish, in Sheridan’s The Rivals – the teen-aged female romantic lead, a popular role in Joyce’s time 461.19: “to match the cat:” if the wallpaper is lilac (.19), Issy’s cat is probably Persian or, perhaps, Siamese. 461.19-20: “fireplease:” Issy’s room includes a fireplace. Your annotator has suggested that it is the main conduit through which daughter and father hear one another. 461.19-20: “fireplease keep looking: “ please keep looking, as addressed, at least principally to the “pierlogs” - pierglass/mirror 461.20: “pearlogs:” pierglass – Issy’s mirror. Also (see entry for .19-20), pear trees make good firewood. 461.20: “I want to see will he or all Michales like that:” compare Molly Bloom in “Penelope:” I was just dying to see if he was circumcised.” 461.21: “after devotions:” given context, devotions would be either Vespers or bedtime prayers. (She’ll say one more prayer at .29.) 461.23: “poke stiff under my isonbound:” compare 296.29-30, along with footnote 5: “poke stiff;” “The impudence of that in girl’s things!” The clitoris, here imagined as poking up far enough to make a dent in the eiderdown. In Issy’s erotic fantasy, her libido is in high gear. 461.24-5: “my soiedisante chineknees cheeckchubby chambermate for the night’s foreign males:” again, compare Molly, sitting on a chamberpot: “I bet he never saw a better pair of thighs than that look how white they are the smoothest place is right there between this bit here how soft like a peach easy God I wouldn’t mind being a man and get up on a lovely woman.” 461.24: “chineknees cheeckchubby chambermate:” china chamberpot (under her bed); in at least three other cases (45.29, 106.19, 305.27), FW’s chamberpots are made of china. (Or, perhaps, just (“soiedisante”) soi-disant, pretend china: at 462.2, with his “amingst,” Jaun is claiming, absurdly, that his cup is Ming china.) Chambermaids – Nora was one – were tasked with removing them. The gist is that she urinates in the chamberpot every night before bedtime. Chamberpots, the Blooms’, for instance, were customarily stowed under the bed, and in this case Issy seems to imagine hers as keeping her (male) company. Also, chamber-mate: bedroom lover; see .25-6 and note. 461.25: “night’s foreign males:” again, a night-mail telegram. Also, a demon lover. Compare the similar scenario at 327.19-26: a young woman, stuck in her domestic bed, fantasizing about being abducted by some wild lover such as the Flying Dutchman. 461.25-6: “your name of Shane will come forth between my shamefaced whesen:” both Bloom and Molly testify that, while having sex, one may sometimes be fantasizing someone else. Here, Issy imagines the faux pas of calling her domestic lover by that someone else’s name – that of the shameful love. Besides “shame,” “Shane” is within mistaking range of “Shaun,” “Shem, and “James.” (For “James,” see .31: “Jaime.”) 461.25: “come:” in sexual sense 461.26: “between my shamefaced whesen with other lipth:” I can’t account for “whesen” (Bonheim has “Wesen,” being), but in context the other lips are the labia majora and labia minora. 461.26-7: “I nakest open my thight:” naked, I spread my thighs. At .24, her knees were chummily together. Also, she’s opening her eyes, at dawn, when – see next – she hears the rooster crow. 461.27: “when just woken by his toccatootletoo:” her lover’s early-morning erection. As echo of cock-a-doodle-doo: a cock will do what a cock will do. (See second entry for 459.25.) Also, simply, awaken by his touch 461.28: “So now, to thalk thildish, thome:” (“lipth” (.26)), lispingly: to talk childish(ly), Jaun. As elsewhere in FW she’s being flirty by affecting little-girl talk. Children proverbially lisp – e.g. as a child, Alexander Pope “lisped in numbers.” 461.29-30: “before doing to deed:” before going to bed, before doing the deed. The above has been sexual fantasy; now she’s going to say her prayers in repentance. 461.30: “And a tiss to the tassie:” and a final piss for the chamber pot: see note to .24. (Chamber pots, having handles, often resembled huge tea cups – French “tasse.”) 461.30-1: “Coach me how to tumble, Jaime:” compare Molly in “Penelope:” “o Jamesy, let me up out of this pooh:” no proof, but I would bet that both originate with Nora, and that the “Penelope” line, at least, refers to what is sometimes called the “wet spot.” To “tumble” – in the hay or straw – was to have sex. 461.31: “Jaime, and listen, with supreme regards, Juan:” James and John. Again (see .25-6 and note), being with one, she’s thinking of the other. “Jaun” has been momentarily changed to (Don) Juan because he’s being a (“Jaime:” “J’aime”) lover. 461.32: “ah ah ah ah:” sound of female orgasm. In the next line, Jaun will interrupt and bowdlerize it into an “Amen.” 461.33-4: “sororal sonority:” musical sorority 461.33: “bubbleblown:” 1. the sinking barrel is letting off bubbles. 2. a blown-glass goblet, in his (“patapet” (.35): French “patte” for paw) hand. Given that Jaun is singing, this may incorporate the popular American song “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles,” which first appeared in 1918. 3. again, Molly on the chamberpot: “I hope theyre bubbles on it.” Bubbles on the surface would be a sign of luck. All this bubbling sets up the champagne conceit of the next page. 461.34: “himself capitally:” he has just re-announced himself with a full-caps “MEN!” 461.35-6: “(A spilt, see for a split, see see!):” again: spillage because of cracks between the barrel’s staves. Also, the name of Joyce’s wine of choice, Fendant (de Sion), comes from French “fendre,” to split. (Its grapes split if squeezed.) 462.2: “toastmaster general:” in Britain and America, the Postmaster General is the head of the postal service. 462.4: “Erin go Dry!:” McHugh: Ireland until. In other words, a very long time – forever, probably - before Ireland is dry either in the sense of weather or of prohibition. 462.5: “Tight! Loose!:” compare “High! Sink!” of 373.8. 462.5: “A stiff one for Staffetta mollified with creams of hourmony:” a lady’s drink (for a lady named Staffetta): hard liquor, mulled/modified with sweet cream. (Given “brandisong” (.3), could be a Brandy Alexander, generally considered a drink for women.) Also, since “creams” = semen (compare 164.18-9), “hourmony” = hormones. Considering obvious innuendo of “stiff one,” “creams” are also probably (see 461.16 and note) fluids, male and/or female, involved in intercourse. 462.6: “hourmony:” her/our money 462.6: “the coupe that’s chill:” a chilled cup, for champagne 462.6-7: “chill…dhouche:” phrase: cold douche. Also, douches were sometimes used as (highly unreliable) birth control. But see next entry. 462.7: "filiform dhouche:" not clear to your annotator, but "filiform douche" has been identified by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 2022) as something employed in hydrotheraphy: "When applied to the skin it acts as a powerful counterirritant and stimulant." 462.7: “Esterelles:” the two Esthers, both “elles,” to go with (“Shaunathaun”) the Jonathan Swift of the next line 462.8: “is in is his fail:” is literally falling, or sinking 462.9: “fizz:” jizz: semen; phiz: face 462.9: “I tilt with this bridal’s cup champagne:” a romanticized take on what’s happening: the barrel, listing, is emitting bubbles. (Compare, for instance, 461.33, above.) “Bridle Cup” is another term for a (“dhouche on Doris” (.7)) deoch an dorais. 462.9-10: “dimming douce from her peepair of hideseeks:” the champagne comes from her tears. (Also – see next item – from her breasts; compare Liebfraumilch.) “Douce:” French for sweet as well as (in McHugh) soft. White wine, including most champagnes, is usually sweeter than red. 462.10-2: “her peepair of hideseeks, tightsqueezed on my snowybrusted and while my pearlies in their sparkling wisdom are nippling her bubblets:” besides eyes (which are winking – playing hide and seek) the “peepair of hideseeks” is Issy’s bra. “Nippling” and “bubblets” are nipples and breasts, “bubblets,” diminutive of “bubs” (compare Molly’s “bubs” in “Calypso”) because she’s young and they’re small; women’s underwear is sometimes a matter of peeping, of hide and seek. Also, in this highly eroticized sequence, he is squeezing her snow-white breasts and nibbling their nipples. In “Penelope,” Molly remembers Boylan trying “to bite the nipple” of her breast. 462.10-11: “snowybrusted…pearlies:” “snow-white breast” (or “bosom”) and “pearly teeth” are love-talk clichés. 462.12: “bubblets:” like the “pearlies” of .11, the bubbles from Jaun’s sinking barrel. Also, champagne, being squeezed – see three previous items – from her nipples. (In “Penelope,” Molly remembers Bloom wanting to milk her into the tea.) Also, of course, white wine in general, including champagne, is squeezed from pale grapes. White wine was Joyce’s preferred drink. 462.13: “my poor old snaggletooth’s:” when barrels get old, the spaces between their staves look gap-toothed. 462.14: “so long as my hole looks. Down.:” so long as you/we both shall live 462.15: “So gullaby, me poor Isley:” in addition to Issy/Iseult and island (Ireland – to which, like Joyce, Jaun is saying goodbye), Mink lists Islay, the Hebrides island known, in Joyce’s time as today, for its malt Scotch whiskey. “Gullaby” perhaps mixes gulp and gobble. 462.16: “my immerman monophone:” A version of Shem, inside, who will emerge as Jaun subsides. A “monophone” is a phoneme, a single unit of sound. 462.17: “squamous:” scaly. Fits other descriptions of Shem, especially when he is compared to a snake. For instance, see 464.11 and note. 462.18-9: “incessantly:” instantly 462.19: “crust:” slang for overweening impertinence 462.19-20: “doubling…tippling…unicorn:” with “tippling” as echo of “tripling” (according to McHugh, “trippling” is a “tranmissional variant”), 3 2 1. “Unicorn” seems to anticipate the modern, post-Joyce meaning of a unique item or occurrence. Bunched together in either order, three and two repeatedly, throughout the book, signal the FW twins, in this case perhaps also adumbrating the trinity. 462.22: “link:” couples would link – go arm in arm – when going into a dance, dinner, etc. Also, like 462.23-4: “provided there’s nothing between you but a plain deal table:” an off-color joke remembered from my high school days: man to woman: I’d like to get something straight between us. (Sylvia Plath is remembering the same joke at the end of her 1962 poem “Medusa.”) Interposing a table between this young woman and her would-be Don Juan (Jaun has just been singing from an aria from Don Giovanni) would keep things proper. Deal is the cheapest, plainest kind of furniture wood. A plain dealer is upfront and artless. 462.25: “Do mailstanes mumble?” compare 306.22-3: “If Standing Stones Could Speak.” Here, as millstones grinding, they mumble instead: “Lumtum lumtum!” (.25-6) 462.27: “Eccolo:” Echo; Latin “Ecce” behold. “Ecce Homo:” Behold the Man (Jesus). (Joyce wrote an essay about a painting with that name.) Also, Listen up, you! 462.28: “th’athlate!:” long shot: Paraclete – the Holy Ghost 462.28: “Who can secede to his success:” saying, attributed to Talleyrand: Nothing succeeds like success. “Secede” and “success” have, on one level, opposite meanings: a successor takes the place of his predecessor, a seceder relinquishes his place. Inheritance complications between brothers. Joyce’s father, younger brother, and the firstborn brother who died in infancy were all named (“Jaun”) John. 462.28-9: “Isn’t Jaunstown, Ousterrike, the small place after all?:” it’s a small world. 462.28-33: “th’athlate…foot:” athlete’s foot 462.30: “leek:” signifies Welsh origins; see item after next. 426.30: “Why, bless my swits:” “Bless my wits!” – an expression meaning something like “What was I thinking?” Also, as (notes McHugh) Swiss or Schwitz, goes with the canton in the “cantoninelives” of the next live – one of Joyce’s residences 462.30: “Dave:” David is or was typically a Welsh name. 462.32-3: “coming home to mourn from his old continence:” the Mourne Mountains are on the coast of the west of Ireland, to which he is imagined “coming home” from the old continent, Europe. 462.35: “blindfold passage by the 4.32:” a night passage on the 4:32 train. As 432 AD, “Quinquisecular” (.34) - “Quinquicento” - is the 5th century. 462.35: “pork’s pate:” porkpie hat. Also – see entries for 463.1, 463.5 – pork paté. 462.36: “the gulls laughing:” “laughing gulls” are not native to Ireland. 463.1: "timtom:" Yiddish timtum, an effeminate man 463.1: “Pat’s pig:” St. Patrick legend: “miracle of the pigs:” it rained pigs when Patrick was on the verge of starvation. (See 462.35, above.) Also, a feature of Irish caricature: in “Circe,” when Bloom turns into a stage Irishman, he shows up leading a pig; also, see 86.13-31. Also, Pat’s pig was said to have “raised itself.” 463.3: “twenty annis:” twenty years; twenty annas: an anna is or was 100th of a rupee. Goes with “(“-monicals”) money in “testymonicals” (.3), and the coin-making machine noted by McHugh in line .2. 463.3-4: “showing the three white feathers:” In A. E. W. Mason’s 1902 novel The Four Feathers, the feathers of the title are white, signifying cowardice and given to a conscientious objector by three fellow officers and his fianceé, who breaks off their engagement. He wins her back, returning feather number four, after three acts of dramatic derring-do. Applied to Joyce, sitting out WW I in neutral Switzerland, this would indicate cowardice times three. Handing out white feathers to conscription-age men not in uniform was a popular conshy-shaming exercise during the war. 463.4: “home cured emigrant:” home-cured meats are, well, meats cured at home; in “Hades,” “emigrants” are cattle headed for slaughter. 463.4: “Paddyouare:” Padua. As “You are Paddy,” a variant of the “tauftauf” motif. See entry for .5. 463.4-5: “far below on our sealevel:” far below our level. According to the testimony so far, Dave is pretty infra dig. 463.5: “Bearer may leave the church, signed Figura Porca, Lictor Magnaffica:” almost certainly an aside on the “old, ugly spinster” (Ellmann (1984), p. 320) who administered Joyce’s diploma exam at the University of (“Paddyouare” (.4)) Padua. As McHugh notes, “Figura Porca” = “sow-shape.” All four names here are feminine. “Lictors” were official Roman enforcers, and a “lector,” among other things, is a university lecturer. 463.8: “as nasal a Romeo as I am:” he’s as near to being a great lover as I am. (Probably sarcastic, although the biblical David was certainly a womanizer.) 463.8: “for ever cracking quips on himself:” 1. compulsively self-deprecating. 2. self-flagellating. Compare (“catoninelives” (462.31)) his cat o’ nine tails, and see next two entries. 463.9-10: for ever cracking quips on himself, that merry, the jeenjakes, he’d soon arise mother’s roses:” as McHugh notes, “jeenjakes” is Jean-Jacques Rousseau, whose Confessions recount his sexual enjoyment of flagellation, as practiced with Madame de Warens, who he refers to as “mother” and “Mama.” Joyce’s erotic letters show a similar inclination. Compare next entry. 463.9-11: “he’d soon arise mother’s roses mid bedewing tears under those wild wet lashes onto anny living girl’s laftercheeks:” 1. He’d make the women laugh until they cried. 2. He’d soon bring tears to his mother’s eyes. (For “mother’s,” see previous entry.) 3. He’d happily whip some girl’s buttocks (after-cheeks) to give her pleasure. Compare 554.8-9: “she lalaughed in her diddydid domino to the switcheries of the whip,” and ALP, 626.6-7: “Ludegude of the Lashlanns, how he whips me cheeks!” (So: when it comes to flagellation (see second note to .8), he likes it both ways. “Roses,” besides rosy cheeks in two senses, may be red welts.) 463.9: “jeenjakes:” James-John. “Jakes” = Jack = John. Also, as a privy, “jakes” (Jacob, Jacques) comments on Joyce’s dirty-mindedness, much in evidence in this chapter. See note to .12, below. 463.11: “veiniality:” the flagellations constitute a venial, not a mortal, sin. Also, blood veins – whence the rosiness of the welts 463.11-2: “unpeppeppediment:” he’s stammering – a speech impediment, pronounced with a speech impediment. (For the moment, he’s his father’s son.) Also, “impediment” (McHugh): etymologically, traces to “feet shackled.” He’s not just stammering; he’s staggering – haltingly trying to put one foot, “ped,” after another. 463.12: “He has novel ideas:” both Rousseau and Joyce wrote novel novels. (So – see next item – did Jarry.) 463.12: “jarry:” like Joyce, Alfred Jarry was notorious for scatology. Also, Jerry: a sometime name for Shem 463.12: “a jarry queer fish:” a very odd duck – an exceptionally eccentric individual. Certainly applies to the character being described 463.13: “cantanberous:” canton: an allusion to Joyce’s time in Switzerland, perhaps as well to Rousseau’s Swiss origins. Compare 462.21: “catoninelives.” Also, as (McHugh) a Cantabridgean, matches with (“Auxonian” (.7)) Oxonian. Probably also an overtone of cantankerous 463.13: “poisoner of the word:” compare 189.28-9. Joyce was and is sometimes accused of being both a prisoner and a poisoner of language. Probably an echo of Eugene Jolas’ “Revolution of the Word” 463.13: “lice:” the Stephen of Portrait (and remembered in Ulysses) has lice. 463.14: “semicoloured stainedglasses:” Google Books shows that the expression “rose-coloured glasses” was current. Here, the glasses are more like stained-glass windows. In either case, you need some kind of flattering lens if this guy is going to pass muster. Also, along with Joyce’s dark glasses (McHugh), a sign of the condition behind them: according to Ellmann, Joyce first knew for sure that he had glaucoma when he saw streetlights as rainbow-colored. 463.15: “Got by the one goat:” as in a biblical “begot” – he and his brother had the same father. See next entry. 463.15-6: “suckled by the same nanna:” a takeoff on Romulus and Remus, suckled by a she-wolf. “Nanna” as in “nannygoat” – female mate to the “one goat” who begot them 463.17: “We’re as thick and thin:” to be thick with someone is to be their fixed friend or comrade. Here, apparently the thickness wears out when they’re going through the thin part of “through thick and thin.” 463.17: “tubular jawballs:” tubular bells; joybells; jawbreakers (hard candy); as “jawbreakers,” a slang term for gay men. (Also, see note to 443.11.) With “balls” as the American equivalent of British “ballocks,” the “tubular” is likely phallic. Compare Molly on Paul de Kock: “I suppose the people gave him that nickname going about with his tube from one woman to another.” 463.18: “plasth it:” blast it 463.19: “old portugal’s nose:” old Port, distinguished by its “nose” – it’s pre-drinking bouquet. Given that the young non-bathing Joyce must certainly have smelled bad at times (see 175.2-3 and note), this is probably sarcastic. See next entry. 463.20: “sinker:” stinker; sinner 463.20: “water on the grave:” water on the brain – hydrocephalus – can be fatal if untreated, leading to an early grave. Also, of course, watery grave. Goes with “sinker” in sense of lead weight. (How, by the way, could “old portugal’s nose” “save many a poor sinker” from drowning? “Portugal’s Nose” is sailor slang for the Cape of Finisterre (Mink cites four or five occurrences, not counting this one) - hence the “pirates” of. 21 - known as one of the Atlantic’s “graveyards;” sailing in its vicinity would be, on the whole, the opposite of life-saving, but perhaps the idea is that any mariner in its waters who manages to make it to land has escaped a watery grave.) 463.21-2: “The diasporation of all pirates and quinconcentrum of a fake like Basilius O’Cormacan MacArty?:” “Cormac MacArt was “Basilius,” king of Ireland from 213 to 253 A.D., during which, according to the website libraryireland.com, “his powerful militia under Finn…preserved order at home, whilst his fleets swept the neighbouring seas.” Hence the “diasporation” – diasporic disappearance – of pirates. 463.21: “quinconcentrum:” spatial counterpart to “quinquisecular” (462.33). The middle point of a quincunx 463.22: “To camiflag he turned his shirt:” in most accounts a national hero, but Cormac (see .21-2 and note) was also arguably a turncoat: he led a successful civil war against his predecessor, King Fergus Dubhdedach. Perhaps also a comment on “Dave” as Joyce, sometimes accused of turning his back on Ireland by going into exile; the next lines (.23-7) will have him pursuing handouts by opportunistically cozying up with both sides of any conflict imaginable. 463.22: “camiflag:” camouflage: pirates (.21) sailed under false flags. Also, tracing to Latin “camisia,” goes with “turned his shirt” (.22) 463.23: “borrowing all before him:” carrying all before him, that is, succeeding at everything he tries – but also, borrowing from (“touching” (.24)) everyone in sight. Poor or rich, a lifelong Joyce habit 463.24: “red in Rossya, white in Alba:” Reds vs. Whites of Russia’s civil war. An equal-opportunity leach, he begs from both. 463.26: “Yourishman:” You’re a rich Irish man. (Therefore, obliged to be generous: spoken by someone asking for money.) Again, whether an “Our” (as in “Ourishman” (.25)) or a “Your,” Irishman or Yorkshireman, they’re all fair game. Given all the colors in the vicinity, probably an overtone of “Orangeman” – someone from Ireland’s wealthiest province – again, fair game 463.26: “halp of a crown:” compare “Claddagh clasp” (464.24) with McHugh’s note. The two hands of the Claddagh ring hold a crowned heart – that is, each one holds half a crown. 463.27: “peace:” pence 463.27: “pebbled:” purblind 463.27: “johnnythin:” David’s Jonathan 463.29: “slanderising himself:” dieting (slenderizing: Joyce was always skinny); self-deprecating (slandering). Compare .7, above. 463.30: “Give him an eyot in the farout:” give him an (extra) eye in the forehead – an extra eye for someone going blind. (See .27: “with his pebbled eyes.”) Also, as McHugh notes, one of the smaller island of the Faroes, about two hundred miles north of Scotland: either deserted or sparsely populated, as well as cold and stark. In effect, let’s maroon him. Probably not coincidental that puffins, appearing two lines earlier (.28), are native to the Faroes. 463.31-2: “He’d be as snug as Columbsisle Jonas wrocked in the belly of the whaves, as quoted before:” marooned or not, he’d be happy on his own little island – as snug as St. Columba was on Iona, or as Jonah was (by way of “h” in “whaves”) in the whale’s belly. Columbus as dove, his discovery of Hispaniola corresponding to Noah’s dove bringing a sign of dry land, is a major FW theme. 463.34-4: “prisonpotstill of spanish breans:” given (McHugh) Italian “bréan” for “putrid,” an “olla podrida,” a spicy Spanish dish whose name means “rotten pot;” beans (“breans”), presumably from Spain, are a standard ingredient. Note “chief” (.32) and “chef’s” (.34) in the near vicinity, and compare 92.2. 463.35: “-potstill:” a pot still is a still used to make whiskey, including Irish potheen. 463.35: “knave of trifles:” knave of trefoils: playing-card clubs, which resemble trefoils/shamrocks. According to most card-reading sources, signifies a clever, erratic young man or the trouble he’s likely to cause. Also, a trifle is a kind of dessert. Echoes nursery rhyme’s “knave of hearts.” 463.35-6: “jollytan:” David’s Jonathan 463.36: “brick:” English expression for reliable fellow 464.1: “annyone in my oweand:” any Annie or Anny, perhaps with a last name of Owen. Compare 46.1: HCE as “He’ll Cheat E’erawan.” 464.4: “crib:” 1. as verb, to crib is to plagiarize. (Once again, Jaun has just charged Dave with “stolentelling,” with being his “intellectual debtor” (.2), someone who at least ought to declare himself (“Obbligado” (.2)) obligated to him.) 2. As noun, a crib is a translation of a foreign work, sometimes used for cheating. 464.5: “It’s a pity he can’t see it:” pretty rough, this: James Joyce was close to blindness, and here’s Jaun sarcastically declaring what a shame it is that as a result the Joyce-like Dave can’t “see” how much he owes his better half, that being none other than Jaun himself. The vein of sarcasm will persist until somewhere around line .10. 464.6: “leal:” compare “leal” of 21.7. Here as there, loyal 464.7: “omportent:” equal-opposites: impotent, omnipotent 464.8: “snakes…diamond:” as in diamondback rattlesnakes, the hairless, “scaly” (.11) sort infesting pre-Patrick Ireland. Its rattle will be heard “klakkin” at .19. 464.8-9: “shaved his rough diamond skull for him:” becoming a monk, with a tonsure. The head is shaved by a superior in the order. In the process, the diamond in the rough becomes a man of God. See .10 and note. 464.9: “as clean as Nuntius’ piedish:” see McHugh: Pontius Pilate, washing his hands to clean them 464.9: “Nuntius:” messenger monk 464.10: “mesh and the matting and all:” the hair, after being shaved off, leaving “scaly” results 464.11: “escapa sansa pagar!:” stereotypically, the Welshman has welshed, failed to pay; typically, so has Joyce. (Joyce certainly qualified as a welsher when it came to loans. According to Edward MacLysaght’s The Surnames of Ireland, Irish Joyces originated in Wales. David, the name assigned to Shem in this sequence, is the commonest of Welsh first names; Jones, as in “Jonas” (463.31), is the commonest of Welsh last names. Note also the patch of Welsh at .6.) 464.11: “spatton spit:” spitting image. Some snakes are supposed to spit venom. 464.11: “scaly skin:” as with a snake’s 464.12: “blackguarded eye:” a blackguard’s black eye. As McHugh notes, Joyce sometimes wore an eyepatch. 464.12: “goatsbeard in his buttinghole:” goatsbeard is a daisy-like flower – like the rattlesnake, poisonous. Also, Joyce’s one-time beard 464.14: “cruxader:” Joyce as author of “hardest crux ever” (623.33-4) 464.14: “off with his paudeen:” as McHugh notes, overtone of caubeen, a hat: as in a theatre, he removes it so that people “behind him” can “see me proper” (.14), thus showing how “thoughtful” (.16) he is. At .23, Jaun will, rather ungratefully, order Dave to “Hat yourself!” (.22-3). 464.17: “absintheminded, with his Paris addresse:” absinthe was thought to destroy memory and cause hallucinations. It was proverbially a favorite drink of Parisian aesthetes. Joyce wrote FW in Paris. Also, absent-minded in sense of being absent a mind (because of absinthe), the opposite of being “thoughtful” (.16), full of thought. “Addresse” mixes up English “address” with French “adresse;” it may be the result of Jaun’s misguided attempt to sound sophisticated. 464.18-9: “clicking his bull’s bones:” compare “Bulbul, bulbulone” (360.23), evidently part of a Druid ceremony. Also, the “Bones” of a blackface minstrel show, so named from playing bone castanets – here, attracting the attention of the (“klakkin” (.19)) Ku Klux Klan. See 293.12 LM1 and note. 464.19: “toad:” loud 464.19-20: “You’re welcome back, Wilkins, to red berries in the frost:” given absinthe (see .17 and note), possibly based on J. M. Barrie’s once-well-known line, “God gave us memories that we may have roses in December.” 464.20-1: “And here’s the butter exchange to pfeife and dramn ye with a bawlful of the Moulsaybaysse:” American and French marching bands are showing up together. See second note to .21, and McHugh on Dublin’s “Butter Exchange Band.” As in Archibald Willard’s iconic painting The Spirit of ’76, fife and drum bands (.20-1) are the traditional performers of “Yankee Doodle” (.21-2) and other patriotic American songs. “Bawlful” may echo “bawl,” as in a loud noise, and “awful.” 464.20: “butter exchange:” dairymen’s organization: among other things, it works to standardize the price of butter. Ireland had them. 464.21: “pfeife and dramn:” being hospitable, he’s offering him a pipe to smoke and a dram to drink. 464.21: “bawlful of the Moulsaybaysse:” loud singing of the Marseillaise 464.22: “wanked to wall awriting:” Joyce masturbated when writing one or more of his erotic letters to Nora. (FW’s letter is stained with semen and may be written in it; semen can be used for invisible ink – one reason (two, actually) that FW’s pens are often also penises). 464.22-3: “I’m tired hairing of you:” compare notes to .8-9, .10, and .14. 464.23: “dyed dextremity:” Shakespeare: “the dyer’s hand.” Possibly the hand is “dyed” because, being a writer’s, it’s ink-stained. Joyce’s writing hand was the (dexter) right. 464.24: “frother:” brother/father. Again, both Joyce’s deceased elder brother and his father were named John. (Stanislaus Joyce’s first name was also John.) 464.25: “shocked me big the hamd:” shook (not, as – see McHugh - in the original song, “took”) me by the hand, which shocked me by how big it was; phrase “ham-handed” or “ham-fisted” contributes. (Or, possibly, it’s the speaker with the huge hands: Joyce, in the FW years something of a “dapper dandy” (.24), prided himself on his dainty hands and feet.) 464.27: “How’s the cock and the bullfight?:” by Joyce’s time both bull-baiting and cockfighting had been outlawed in the British Isles (although the latter still went on in secret). The point is that he still could have witnessed them on his world travels around the “mappamund” ((.26-7): see McHugh) – in Spain, for instance; note “Taurus periculosus,” dangerous bull, at 466.31. 464.28: “the Beer and Belly:” as McHugh says, Germany. Also, although the phrase “beer belly” didn’t, apparently, become frequent until the late thirties/early forties, Google Books registers the first instance as 1900. Also, following the familiar “x and y” formula (Cock and Bull, “Boot and Ball”) the name of one of the many pubs Dave has visited 464.27-9: “And old Auster and Hungrig?...Not forgetting the oils of greece under that turkey in julep:” an old joke. How old? Your annotator remembers hearing it in fifth grade, about “the great international incident: Hungary fried Turkey in Greece.” 464.29: “under that turkey:” until 1922-3, Greece was ruled by Turkey. 464.30: “Feilbogen:” especially in the context of “old Auster” and “Hungrig” (.27-8), this names Siegmund Feilbogen, the “professor from Vienna” (Ellmann 1984, p. 398) for whom Joyce worked in Zurich in 1915. 464.30: “costard:” custard, as after-dinner dessert 464.31: “Peadhar the Grab:” Peter the Great grabbed a good deal of territory. Continues the nation-naming word-play of .27-9. 464.32: “Tower Turgesius:” Turgesius Tower: a tower in Waterford dating from about 1000 A.D. 464.32-3: “no bigger than she should be:” see McHugh. “No better than she should be” insinuates that the woman in question is unchaste. 464.33: “making up to you:” flirting with you. Paired with “made her” (.35) 464.34: “breastlaw:” Breslau, in Poland – another stop on Dave’s globetrotting. (Others on the itinerary: Isle of Man, Lambay Island) 464.35: “made her:” not possible to find when this became current, but for at least the last fifty years, to make a woman is/was to have sex with her. 464.36: “french davit:” see McHugh. Would be, like Joyce, an Irishman living in Paris 465.1: “yes:” “yez:” American slang for “you,” it indicates a lower-class speaker. See .13, below. 465.2: “your honour:” English spelling, but in America an address to a judge 465.2-3: “languish to scandal:” language of scandal 465.3: “bosky:” Boscobel – site of the Royal Oak: see note to 450.12. 465.3: “delltangle:” compare 298.25. Given the heavy concentration of double-meaning sex-talk, probably the kinky curliness of pubic hair 465.4: “Horner:” yet another double-entendre. Compare the Horner of Wycherly’s The Country Wife. 465.4-5: “jilting no fewer than three female bribes:” Henry James’ Julia Bride (.2) has been engaged to six men, and turnabout is fair play. 465.6: “spinister:” spinster sister. Followed at .11 by (“bashfully”) bachelor. Also, see .22-3 and note. 465.7-8: “She has plenty of woom in the smallclothes for the bothsforus, nephews push!:” likely a paraphrase from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 135, which (very) insultingly informs its female listener that her vagina is roomy enough to accommodate multitudes. Implicates Julia Bride (see note to .4-5) as having slept with all her fiancés. “Smallclothes,” men’s knee breeches, here doubling as lady’s drawers. (Compare “drawoffs:” .6.) “Bothsforus:” both men could share her in a threesome; also, her womb was able to hold twins – in FW, always or almost always Jacob and Esau. “Bothsforus” because FW’s twins often come from two sides of whatever – here, Asia and Europe, on both sides of the Bosporus. “Push:” both a phallic thrust, as urged by an enthusiastic onlooker, and a midwife’s command to a mother in childbirth 465.7-8: “Weih, what’s on you, wip?:” Freud: “Was will das Weib?” Also, “W i P:” Joyce’s pre-publication abbreviation for Work in Progress 465.10: “Enjombyourselves:” French enjambment literally means the act of putting one’s leg or legs over someone or something, and the Irish expression “to put [or get] one’s leg over” a woman is to have sex with her. Also, echo of “womb” – enjoy, and entomb, yourself in her womb. 465.10: “thurily:” besides (McHugh) incense itself, a thurifer is the incense-bearer. Note “incensive” at .12. (Also, compare “therrble prongs,” 628.5.) Complication: McHugh, but not the Oxford editors, place “Enjombyourselves thurily” after “crucifix” in .26. Minus any genetic expertise, I’m subjectively inclined to go with Oxford. The 1928 transition has “Enjombyourselves” etc. in the position it now occupies, and the resulting proximity of “thurily” to “frank incensive” (incense, frankincense) seems more than fortuitous. 465.11: “Would you wait biss she buds till you bite on her?:” The question seems to be sarcastically rhetorical – something like, Are you going to wait all day? Are you going to wait until she’s a full-grown woman before you make your move? To “put the bite on” is a chiefly American expression for pressuring someone for money – here, it’s for sex. Compare 364.13, where “budsome misses” are soon-to-be buxom misses, with their budding breasts; also see 462.10 and note. That he should “Embrace her bashfully” (.12) sounds polite, but note the “bash.” 465.12: “tell her in your semiological agglutinative yez:” more courtship injunctions: sweet-talk her while making bedroom eyes 465.12: “semiological agglutinative:” both words have both biological and linguistic meanings. Biology: semiology is, as McHugh says, the “branch of pathology concerned with symptoms;” “agglutinative” describes, for example, tissues which tend to adhere, to one another or certain other bodily parts. Linguistic: semiology is the study of signs and symbols; “agglutinative” describes (OED, definition 6) “the morphological process of successively adding affixes to a root in order to form a compound.” (Examples are at 130.30-2; I don’t recognize any here.) 465.13: “frank:” the stamp mark on a postage stamp 465.13-4: “Let us be holy and evil and let her be peace on the bough:” Compare, for instance, the end of Mookse/Gripes sequence (157.1-158.18), where Issy as “Nuvoletta” hovers over the two warring brothers, the holy one and the evil one, trying to get them to make up by attending romantically to herself. Mistletoe, the “mistletouch” of .27, comes from boughs and, during the Christmas season of holly and ivy, is a signal for everyone underneath to kiss one another. 465.15: “lyonised mails:” lionized males, usually literary. Compare 177.36-178.1. 465.16: “hungry and angry:” a fair description of, for example, the Gracehoper and the Ondt, respectively. Here, applied to FW’s twins, a major example of the book’s coinciding contraries. As McHugh notes, as the “cork again brothers” (.16) they are Dion Boucicault’s Corsican Brothers – twins, once conjoined, who after surgical separation can still experience one another’s sensations. As opposites, they separate into the hungry one and the angry one, but then, according to Bloom in “Lestrygonians,” a [h]ungry man is an angry man.” 465.16-7: “cavileer grace by roundhered force:” theologically tricky, but it’s plausible to say that the Cavaliers tended more to the doctrine of salvation through divine grace. Also, “roundheaded” means practical-minded. In “Eumaeus,” Bloom calls Cromwell “an uncommonly able ruffian.” 465.17: “boyrun to sibster:” correction to McHugh: Byron’s half-sister, not his sister. “Sibster:” sibling 465.18: “shinners true and pinchme, our tertius quiddus:” a “shiner” is a coin (appears in “Oxen of the Sun”), especially a pound, so “tertius quiddus” is three quid. Also, “shinner:” transliterated Gaelic for (emphatic) “we” or “us,” hence “shinners true:” us two, with possible overtone of Kipling’s Soldiers Three (compare 348.21, 431.35) anticipating “tertius quiddus,” on the same line 465.19: “Always raving:” the young woman under discussion, who “fell in line” (love) with him/them, is the one who is always raving on the subject, which is why she’s “To be had for the asking” (.22). 465.19-21: “how we had the wrinkles of a snailcharmer and the slits and sniffers of a fellow that fell foul of the county de Loona:” McHugh notes that “county de Loona” is Conte di Luna, rival of Leonora’s lover Manrico in Verdi’s Il Trovatore – at one point, like The Lyons Mail and The Corsican Brothers (see .16-7 and note), a story of mistaken identity: Leonora takes one for the other, in Joyce’s version believing that the count has the “slits and sniffers,” eyes and nostrils, of Manrico. “Wrinkles of snailcharmer:” rudiments of a (snake-charming) enchanter, in this case of women. Probable echo: snails are winkled out of their shells. 465.21: “meattrap:” mouth. See previous entry; She’s getting that wrong, too. 465.21: “the first vegetarian:” perhaps Cain, the first farmer 465.22: “To be had for the asking:” that is, she is: see .19 and note, next item and note. 465.22-3: “Take her out of poor tuppeny luck:” folk song: “Take Her Out of Pity,” asking for some man, any man, to marry the singer’s sister 465.22-3: “tuppeny…three shillings:” the twins’ standard 2-3 signature 465.23: “goes off in pure treple licquidance:” compare 67.34-5. 465.23-6: “I’d give three shillings a pullet to the canon for the conjugation to shadow you kissing her from me leberally all over as if she was a crucifix:” I’ll pay for the wedding – probably so that the groom will take her off Jaun’s hands. (His increasingly vestigial religiosity resurfaces: kissing the crucifix would be the highest form of passion.) In “Wandering Rocks,” “young pullet” is Blazes Boylan’s evaluation of an attractive young woman. 465.27: “mistletouch:” 1. tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. 2. During mass, the priest signals the end of a prayer by touching the missal held by the altar boy. 3. In context, a holy book (Bible) touched by a witness before testifying in court 465.28: “Chink chink:” sound of coins – the “tupenny” and “three shillings” (.23, .24) he says he’s willing to pay 465.28: “curly bard:” although Manrico, the lover of Il Trovatore (.19-21), is not noted for curly hair, this could be a generic description of successfully suave lady-killers, as applied to Shaun/Jaun (92.17, 430.23, 469.32) when in courtship mode. As bard, at 466.10-1, he will still be “tropeful of popetry,” full of poetic tropes. 465.28: “kitchin the womn in the hym to the hum of her garments:” among other things, kissing the hem of her garments 465.29: “hym:” hymn 465.29-30: “You try a little tich to the tissle of his tail:” considering the preceding variant of “The early bird catches the worm” (.29), probably a version of the old saying that you can catch a bird by putting salt on its tail. Almost impossible, of course; it later came to signify, in general, catching someone or something, preventing it or them from getting away. 465.30: “The racist to the racy, rosy. The soil:” phrase: racy of the soil: for reasons having to do with race, typical of the region and its inhabitants. Goes with Sinn Fein slogan that follows. Here, an injunction to stick to one’s own (“ownkind,” kithkinish” (.31)) when it comes to courtship and marriage – even up to the point (“Be bloodysibby:” see next entry) of incest. 465.31: “bloodysibby:” siblings, related by blood, like brother and sister 465.32: “inish:” figures in many Irish names of places, for instance the island Inishmore 465.32: “hamlet:” in sense of small settlement. See next entry. 465.32: “Be the property plot:” be like a plot of (Irish) property – that is, racy of the soil (see .30 and note). Also, possible overtone of “the popish plot” 465.32-3: “Be Yorick and Lankystare:” given proximity of (“hamlet” (.32)) Hamlet, he is the one with the lanky stare here, contemplating Yorick’s skull, which to be sure would also have a lanky stare. 465.33: “Be cool:” in the sense of admirably dispassionate temperament, “cool” goes back well before FW. 465.34-5: “No martyr where the preature is there’s no plagues like rome:” early Christian martyrs died as a result of ministering to victims of plague (see next entry); Rome was often the site. Also, sentiment of “there’s no place like home” sums up the preceding five lines, adding the dubious proposition that home-town plagues are preferable to those acquired elsewhere. 465.35: “gripes:” a symptom of plague 465.36: “tiger:” Tiber: goes with Rome (.35) 466.1: “Babau and Momie!:” to babble and (M. E. “momm”) hum or mumble 466.2-3: “Give us a pin for her and we’ll call it a tossup:” expression: I don’t care a pin. As dowry, a bare minimum. Again, he’s eager to get her married off. 466.3: “Can you reverse positions?:” like the Blooms, James and Nora sometimes slept head to foot as a way of discouraging sex. 466.5: “live apples:” love apples: tomatoes – once considered aphrodisiacs, like “love potients” (love potion that makes one potent) in the next line 466.6: “the next beast king:” the next best thing 466.6-7: “Put me down for all ringside seats:” ringside seats are those in the arena closest to the boxing ring, therefore the most expensive. The wedding/marriage is, at times, also a wrestling or boxing match (see .27-8, .29-30 and notes); “ringside” includes “ring” of wedding ceremony. 466.8: “Recoil:” given “Leas” in .6, perhaps Rachel 466.8-9: “Turn about, skeezy Sammy, out of metaphor, till we feel are you still tropeful of popetry:” “Tropos:” Greek for “turn.” A metaphor is a trope. 466.10: “Sammy:” echo of Shem or Shemmy 466.10-1: “till we feel are you still tropeful of popetry:” we’ll see if he’s still the romantic troubadour he was before. The answer (“Told you so. [And here comes a bit of poetry to prove it; see .11-3 and note.] If you doubt of his love of darearing his feelings…” (.11-2)) turns out to be yes. (Brendan O Hehir has “darearing” as transliteration of Gaelic for “in earnest, serious.”) 466.10-1: “tropeful:” French “trop.” Too full 466.11-3: “If you…his:” a bit of anapestic verse: If you doubt of his love of darearing His feelings you’ll very much hurt, For mishmash mastufractured on Europe You can read off the tail of his [shirt]. “Mastufractured” echoes “masturbated:” in “Nausicaa” Bloom has a wet shirt after masturbating. 466.13-4:” Rip…jac:” aside from (McHugh) Jack the Ripper (in his own way a lady’s man), R.I.P. and Hic Jacet 466.14: “lander: compare 249.19: “land her,” meaning to win her over romantically 466.14-5: “That’s the side that appeals to em:” polite pretenses notwithstanding, the phallic side of the male body is what really interests women. See .19-20 and note. 466.15: “wright:” Peter Wright, who accused Gladstone of lusting after the prostitutes he tried to reform. Compare 269.8 and note. 466.16: “What he’s good for:” Stephen in “Proteus,” about women: “What else were they invented for?” 466.17: “Could you wheedle a staveling encore:” a starveling (barely existing) musical stave would be about the limit of what he could “wheedle” – again (450.22-3) probably a commentary on (“Mr Jinglejoys”) Joyce’s voice’s lack of volume, also of stamina. 466.19-21: “Rota rota ran the pagoda con dio in capo ed il diavolo in coda. Many a diva devoucha saw her Dauber Dan at the priesty pagoda Rota ran:” as the follow-up testifies, to be read as either Dave’s singing or, more likely, Jaun’s exasperated imitation of it; in either case, a testimony to the former’s continuing penchant for rhyming romantically 466.19-20: “con dio in capo ed il diavolo in coda:” see McHugh. Shaun as top, head/Shem as bottom/genitals: the two thus bifurcating their father according to the two main nerve bundles of the human body. As E. L. Epstein and I once concluded near-simultaneously, this is a running FW conceit, most extensively present at 526.1-564.5, where it is paired with a similar division between body’s front (penis) and backside (arse). 466.20-1: “Many a diva devoucha saw her Dauber Dan at the priesty pagoda Rota ran:” see Anne Veronica Witchard, Thomas Burke’s Dark Chinoiserie: Limehouse Nights and the Queer Spell of Chinatown (page numbers not included in online edition). The story of the song “Rhoda And Her Pagoda” is that Rhoda runs an upmarket (“priesty” may echo “pricey”) London teashop, fashionably designed in the (pagoda-like) Chinese style, which succeeds in netting her a marriage to a duke, or at least a soi-disant one; other female patrons have similar success. The song was from an orientalist farce entitled San Toy. (Compare “santoys” of 58.32-3, appearing in the context of popular theatrical entertainments.) Based on Pritchard’s account, the play may have suggested other stage-Chinese effects in FW. The spelling of “Rota,” juxtaposed with “priesty pagoda,” gives an ecclesiastical spin: there is still a church wedding in the background. 466.20: “Dauber Dan:” Dapper Dan: brand of hair pomade (to be daubed on?); popular name for a ladies’ man 466.21: “Uck!:” a comment on the musical performance just given or imitated 466.21: “He’s so sedulous to singe always if prumpted, the mirthprovoker!:” Ezra Pound: “My friend Joyce was wont to break into song.” Again: Dave/Joyce/Shem as troubadour. Both as author and, when properly primed, as host or partygoer, Joyce can fairly be said to have earned the title of “mirthprovoker.” He fully intended his last two books to be, among other things, very funny; his name was gratifyingly similar to “joy;” he was notable as a singer and jester; by report his “spider dance” was something to see. One point here is that such high spirits are infectious: he needs to be (“prumpted”) prompted, as from a prompter’s box (with possible overtone of pre-empted: someone else has to get the ball rolling), so that he can then provoke similar feelings in others. (Nora, shortly after his death: “Things are very dull now. There was always something doing when he was about.”) 466.23-4: “in our own deas dockandoilish introducing the death of Nelson:” “The Death of Nelson” is usually a song for tenors. In “Wandering Rocks,” a raucous street singer renders it with enough force to elicit a response from the open window of Molly Bloom, soprano, a singer of notable volume herself. “Dockandoilish” indicates that it is not just a parting cup (see McHugh) but a parting song as well. “Introducing” (.23) this number into an Irish act might, depending on the milieu, be controversial, given Nelson’s stature as a hero of English (not Irish) sea power; in 1966 some Irish felt strongly enough about the matter to blow up his pillar in central Dublin. 466.26: “With your dumpsey diddely die, fiddeley fa:” string of nonsense syllables at end of chorus or song. Common in Irish music, including “Finnegan’s Wake;” compare 6.28. 466.27: “schoolcolours:” scholars. Also (obvious?) official color or colors of school or college – e.g. Oxford blue 466.27-8: “we’ll scrap, tug, and mat and then be as chummy as two bashed spuds:” we’ll compete athletically, for instance in a wrestling (on a “mat”) or boxing match, and then, even though we’ve just bashed one another good and proper, be pals again. See .29-30 and note. 466.28-9: “Bitrial bay holmgang:” see McHugh: an extreme version, this time with no reconciliation at the end, of the kind of match just described 466.29: “betrayal buy jury:” a bought trial verdict 466.29-30: “Heenan…Hare:” Heenan and Sayres: famous boxing match of 1860; mentioned in Ulysses. It ended when the crowd mobbed the ring, and was declared a draw. Some words in the vicinity seem apt: “bashed,” “holmganged,” ”Attaboy!,” “uncle,” “Taurus periculosus,” “mob’s.” Both men’s faces were reportedly beaten to a bloody pulp – see note to .27-8. 466.30: “Poss, myster?:” pass muster; also, “Password, mister?;” .31-4 will register a bollixed attempt to give the right answer. 466.36: “near a colonel with a voice like that:” Daniel O’Connell had a famously powerful voice 466.36 – 467.1: “The bark is still there but the molars are gone:” his bark is (still) worse than his bite – fairly self-evident, if all or some (e. g. the molars) of his teeth are gone. In context, gist seems to be that the singer still has lung power, but with less range and finesse. (See notes to .8, below.) Also, the Joyce of the FW years had false teeth. 467.1-2: “The misery billyboots I used to lend him:” in Ulysses, Mulligan has lent Stephen a pair of boots. Also, Ezra Pound, meaning well, once mailed Joyce a pair of old shoes. Also, this is one of many, many FW cases where something mistaken or misheard is reverse-engineered into some semblance of sense: “Miserere me in miseribilibus” (466.32) to “misery with his billyboots” (466.34), probably influenced by (see 460.1) “wellington” (a.k.a. “Willingdone” (8.16)) boots, to someone wearing the loaned boots, which because (.3) old and leaking, are making him miserable, in fact in danger of catching his death, which in turn leads to a recommendation that he complete his will and make a general confession (.3-4). 467.2-3: “before we split and, be the hole in the year:” refers to both the breakup of the brothers and the poor condition of the boots. 467.3: “reflexes:” also, refluxes 467.3-4: “But I told him make your will be done to a general and I’d pray confessions for him:” prepare to die. Make your will, say an “Our Father,” make a general confession; when you’re dead I’ll pay for prayers for your soul. (An unsubtle way of urging suicide.) A “general confession” includes sins from before the previous confession. Long shot: “general” may include the General of the Jesuits; in any case it follows from “colonel” (466.1). See note to .1-2. 467.5: “Areesh! Areesh!:” (You will) arise after death. 467.5: “And I’ll be your intrepider:” as go-between, he’ll be Dave’s intrepid foot-in-the-door interpreter. See next entry. 467.5: “Ambras!:” Latin “ambas,” both. (Compare, e.g., 292.21.) Here, he’s urging Dave to embrace her on behalf of both of them. 467.6-7: “Bussing was before the blood and bissing will behind the curtain:” certainly sounds as if he’s anticipating some rough-stuff bedroom action: kissing (“Bussing”) was all very well before the behind-the-scenes (bloody) (“bissing:” see McHugh) biting got going. “Curtain” is probably for a canopy bed 467.7: “worrid expressionism:” as defined at the time – an artist who represented the (“worrid”) world through personal (e.g. worried) emotions - Joyce qualified as an expressionist. 467.8: “megalogue:” big word: loud voice. 467.8: “A full octavium below me!:” As a singer, Dave is worried – “worrid” - because, unlike the tenor Jaun, he can’t hit the high notes anymore. Also, Octavius: as Augustus, Roman Emperor; see note to .12-17, below. 467.9: “browrings rattlemaking:” he makes a (death) rattle sound when straining his voice – blowing off. Not a good sign. Also, “browrings” would be eyebrows, one feature of his (“worrid expressionism” (.7)) worried expression. Again, if they’re wrinkling or, more generally, if you’re looking rattled: also not a good sign, especially if you’re (“preaching to himself” (.10)), talking to yourself; what follows (“schamlooking leaf greeping ghastly down his blousyfrock” (.10-1)) only tends to confirm. 467.10-1: “the schamlooking leaf greeping ghastly down his blousyfrock:” not every day that you can definitively exclude an FW reading, but here’s one: this passage first appeared in 1928, four or five years before the foundation of Ireland’s fascist blue-shirts. So this is not about them. It is possibly about the exile James Joyce, being shammily Irish while, in Paris, wearing a (French, therefore effeminate) blouse. 467.11: “umbloom:” shamrocks do not, in the usual sense of the word, bloom. 467.12-17: “Those worthies…lobscouse:” contains numerous allusions to Julius Caesar and Augustus. “Worthies” (.12): Julius Caesar was one of the nine worthies. “My own faher’s onkel” (.12): Julius Caesar was Augustus’ great-uncle. (Albeit on the maternal side.) “Garotted” (.13): a Roman method of execution. “Caius Cocoa Codinhand” (.14): Gaius Julius Caesar; Gaius Octavius. “Japlatin” (.14): some form of (choppy) Latin, perhaps (yap) dog-Latin. “Yuonkle’s owlseller” (.14-5): Uncle’s old fellow – that is, uncle’s father: again, Julius Caesar was Augustus’ great-uncle. “Balbus” (.16): financier and builder for both Julius and Augustus. 467.13: “Codinhand:” penis in hand. (Augustus was proclaimed the “father of his country.”) 467.14: “to chop that tongue of his, japlatin:” to “chop Latin:” to speak Latin. Google Books hits seem to indicate that the term is dismissive. Long shot: Japanese, especially as presented throughout FW, sounds choppy to European ears; it’s hard to imagine a language that sounds less like Latin. 467.15: “stomebathred:” see McHugh. Presumably, he went deaf from of the racket of Babel (.16). See .17: “deafman’s duff” 467.17: “scoff up:” slang for to eat, hungrily. Here, a meal of (muttan, chepps and lobscouse” (.17-8)) mutton, mutton chops, chips, and lobster. See McHugh for other items on the bill of fare. 467.18-468.19: “Sam knows…knee!:” gist: with occasional qualifications, this sequence has Jaun admitting that, although things used to be otherwise in the family history, Sam, Dave’s stand-in or replacement, is better than him at singing – in fact better with language in general. 467.19-20: “And I see by his diarrhio he’s dropping the stammer out of his silenced bladder:” see next two entries. From his non-stop talking, it’s evident either that, unlike his/our father he doesn’t stutter or that he used to stutter but not any more. 467.19: “diarrhio:” extreme logorrhea, that is, verbal diarrhea. McHugh’s note refers the reader to 185.14-6, where Shem relieves himself in order to make ink to write with. Some household recipes for ink included human urine, and Shem, like Joyce himself, can be accused of scatology – literally, writing with shit-words; compare, for instance, 190.33-5, where Shem’s writing is the result of (“scatchophily”), scatophilia, that is, love of shit. Also, as McHugh notes, a diary: Jaun has been reading Shem’s. 467.20: “bladder:” blather. A stuttering blatherer would be close to a contradiction in terms. Also, comparing previous entry, the bladder as a source of Shem’s writing material. 467.21: “to try and grow a muff:” Google Books has exactly one (1932) occurrence of “grow a muff” meaning grow a beard. Other sources list “muff” as slang for beard. The context indicates that he is thinking of changing his life, including his looks, perhaps as a disguise. 467.22: “river airy:” Riviera 467.24: “the churchyard in the cloister of the depths:” tradition that the church bells of Ys, a village sunk to the bottom of the sea, can sometimes be heard. See 393.30, 527.1, 570.12. 467.24-5: “capped out of beurlads school:” an equal-opposite. Context suggests that he was thrown out, but to be “capped out” is to graduate. In the former sense, as a (“beurlads”) Berlitz language teacher (like Joyce), he has been fired for his faulty grammar, in this case involving the past participle. 467.25-6: “for the sin against…homely gauche:” the sin against the Holy Ghost, commonly thought to be despair 467.27: “twickly fullgets:” twitchy fidgets and digits 467.28: “But the whacker his word the weaker our ears:” the louder he sings the weaker our hearing – probably (see note to .15) because the noise is, literally, deafening. An observation similar to “Who gets twickly fullgets twice as allemanden huskers” (.27-8), meaning (see McHugh) who learns quickly forgets twice as quickly. 467.29: “auracles:” given context (see .28 note, above): “The oracles are dumb” – John Milton, “On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity” 467.30: “quadra:” quad: synonymous with Oxford, here paired with Trinity of Cambridge 467.29-30: “lipstering cowknucks:” lispingly whispering (with lips), plus quidnuncs: he/they as malicious whispering gossipers, all words (”word,” “parles”) to ears (“ears,” “auracles,” “orileys” (.28-9)) 467.32: “prisckly:” Priscius was grandfather to Tarquinius: see .35, below. 467.33: “mimograph:” besides (McHugh) the action of a “mimographer,” a writer of mimes, a word used by Marcel Jousse: a combined gestural and vocal acting-out. Compare 468.5. 467.33: “numan bitter:” given context (Rome, Oxford), probably Cardinal Newman. (Does “bitter” apply? According to some accounts, most notably Lytton Strachey’s, it could have.) 467.34: “road roman…ad Pernicious:” (Roman) road to perdition. Also, echoes “All roads lead to Rome” 467.35: “rhearsilvar ormolus to torquinions superbers:” orgulous – i.e. proud: essentially the same meaning as Latin “superba.” Given context, probably alludes to Rhea. 467.36: “wherever thou art serving my tallyhos:” another reference to the Deoch an Dorais strand: handing cup to fox hunter on horseback. See 468.1 and note. (I suggest a comma-like pause after “art.”) 467.36: “tullying:” Tully: yet another ancient Roman. See .12-7, .35 and notes. In general, this sequence’s heavy concentration of Roman references (over twenty so far, and more to come), beginning with the “Miserere” etc. quotation of 466.31-2, apparently relates to school-day Latin lessons, at which “Sam” excelled. 467.36-468.1: “tullying my hostilious:” Tally Ho. Goes with Stirrup Cup – hunting theme; see next entry. 468.1: “my hostilious:” my/mein/mine host: the publican in the bar’s picture. Best guess: Edwin Douglas’ painting Mine Host. It includes a village inn, a hunter on horseback, dogs, the inn’s owner standing in the doorway, and a young woman, perhaps his daughter, bringing the stirrup cup to the horseman – the essentials of the Mullingar’s calendar picture. 468.1: “recitatandas:” recitando: direction in music. Compare next entry. 468.1: “ffff:” very loud: counterpart to “p.p.” of 467.33: pianoforte. Also, see .3: “P? F?” 468.2: “varsity examinations in the ologies:” school examinations in theology and all the other -ologies. He’s a versatile student - proficient at all such exercises. 468.2-3: “to be a coach…How you used to learn me:” humbly enough, Jaun says he was a good student because his brother was his tutor, his “coach,” who – in an ungrammatically American choice of words – “learn”ed him. The next ten lines will include examples of the coaching, in language and poetics. Compare next entry. 468.3: “P? F? How used you learn me:” specifically, he “learned” him to read music, including the notations p and f, for piano and forte. Compare .9-10 and note. 468.3-4: “brather soboostius:” given the gist of .3-8, it’s probably pertinent that one legendary Brother Sebastian was a conspicuously holy monk who succumbed to lust. Compare 203.32-204.1. 468.3-4: “brather soboostius, in my augustan days? With cesarella looking on:” anachronistic, but this seems to have Caesar Augustus, or his consort, as spectator to the martyrdom of Saint Sebastian (see .8 and note), presumably in the Coliseum. 468.6: “flesh-without-word:” given biblical context, an echo of the Protestant conclusion to the Paternoster / Lord’s Prayer: “world without end, Amen.” 468.6: “the man to be:” Genesis: “And God said, ‘let there be man.’” 468.7-8: “she on the supine satisfies the verg to him:” perhaps obvious, especially with (McHugh) “verg”/verge/penis: the woman satisfies his carnal urges by assuming a supine position. 468.8: “verg:” verb (part of a language lesson); urge; virgin. Brother Sebastian was a virgin, until he wasn’t. 468-9: “Toughtough, tootoological. Thou the first person shingeller. Art, an imperfect subjunctive:” revisits 3.10: “tauftauf thuartpeatrick.” “Thou art” is of course not a first-person verb, not an imperfect tense, not a subjunctive mood, not, so far as I can see, tautological. (What the hell kind of language lesson is this?) 468.9: “Art, an imperfect subjunctive:” A subjunctive is “whatever is imagined, or wished, or possible” – a fair description of (always imperfect) art. 468.9-10: “Paltry, flappent, had serious:” Compare .3 and note. The music lesson, on the difference between piano and forte, has been half-transposed into a language lesson. Possible that some folk etymology is at work here: that the volume of piano is paltry, whereas forte, to go to the origins of “flap,” strikes your ear violently. Some other FW “flap”s, for instance “flapping baresides” (507.10), may corroborate. In any case, “had serious” echoes “et cetera.” 468.10: “flappent, had serious:” flippant, but serious 468.10: “Miss Smith onamatterpoetic:” a variation on FW’s tauf-tauf to mishe-mishe routine. Following “Toughtough” (.8), “Miss Smith” would be an onomatopoetic version of the “mishe-mishe” response. 468.10-11: “Hammisandivis axes colles waxes warmas like sodullas:” As poem, should probably have a line break after “colles” – making for a couplet of trochaic tetrameters, with dactylic substitution at the beginning and, possibly, a caesura after “warmas.” See .11-2 and note. 468.11: “axes…sodullas:” accents, cedillas: diacritical marks to guide pronunciation. The equivalent of accent marks are often used in poetic scansion. 468.11-2: “So pick your stops with fondnes snow:” both stops on a musical instrument and poetic end-stops: see .10-11 and note. The sentence itself is an example: end-stopped iambic tetrameter. 468.12-3: “And mind you twine the twos noods of your nicenames:” “Telemachus,” on a pair of spondees: “The twining stresses, two by two.” Here, the two spondaic feet are “two noods” and “nicenames.” 468.15: “Show you shall and won’t he will:” more of the language lesson: as expressions of desire, “shall” is diffidently polite and “will” more aggressive. (Compare Molly Bloom’s uncertainty about whether to use “vorrei” or “voglio” in her duet with Boylan. Joyce made fun of the Englishy “shan’t” in his parody of “The Waste Land.”) Here, the woman flirtily hesitates, and the man comes on strong. (Equal-opposites: it’s also “Sure you shall” versus “Well, he won’t.”) 468.15-6: “His hearing is indoubting:” undoubting. FW ranks sound over sight. 468.16: “dactylise:” tantalize (with (dactyls) fingers) 468.17: “let him blink for himself where you speak the best ticklish:” her most ticklish spot would be her vagina, which she has just made visible to him by pulling up her petticoats (.13-4). “Blink:” German “blick,” look 468.18: “Fond namer:” dear neighbor 468.19: “Fond namer, let me never see thee blame a kiss for shame a knee!:” by pulling up her skirts (.14-5) etc, she would have shamefully exposed her knees etc; maybe she’s inclined to blame this sign of weakness on the man’s special way of kissing. 468.19: “shame a knee:” Gaelic shamanna: sophistry, flim-flam. Compare 75.14, 182.1. 468.20-2: “But from the stress of their sunder enlivening, ay clasp, deciduously, a nikrokosmikon must come to mike:” I think this echoes bits of Shakespeare’s “Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,” as follows. “From the stress of their sunder enlivening:” “Fear no more the lightning flash, / Nor the all-dreaded thunder stone.” “A nikrokosmikon must come to mike:” “Golden lads and girls all must / As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.” Also, Stephen in “Oxen of the Sun” on the course of human life: “we wail, batten, sport, clip, clasp, sunder, dwindle, die.” 468.23: “Well, my positively last at any stage!:” as Bloom predicts in “Eumaeus,” such supposed farewell performances are seldom the last. 468.23-4: “I hate to look at alarms but, however they put on my watchcraft:” alarm watches, the watch version of alarm clocks, were available in the FW years. Jaun is reluctant to look at his either because it’s impolite or because he doesn’t want to leave. 468.23: “alarms:” French “larmes,” tears 468.26: “Mymiddle toe’s mitching:” for those with arthritis and similar conditions, an itching toe would proverbially signal a change in the weather, probably to rain. Also, in “An Encounter,” “miching” means playing hooky; Jaun is about to decamp. 468.27: “sarve me out:” serve me out; see me out: keep me busy for the remainder of my life 468.29: “fiacckles:” Gaelic “fiacla,” teeth. See note to 466.36-437.1. 468.29-30: “manoark:” Mark, of Tristan and Iseult 468.30: “crowcock:” cockcrow: dawn 468.30: “I am as mew let freer, beneath me corthage, bound:” to “mew” is to enclose or restrain. “Corthage”echoes “corset.” Equal-opposite: he is both like someone still bound up in a corset and like someone released, or about to be released, and bound for freedom. (Some fat men wore corsets; Shaun is fat, his father’s earwiggy shape indented at the waist by (“sylvious beltings” (565.25)) some serious belt-tightening; Jaun has the shape of convexly rounded beer barrel.) 468.31: “beneath me corthage:” Carthage, he says, is beneath him, because from this point to 469.28 he imagines himself to be an aeronaut, at one with the birds which, Noah-like, he has released from the ark, beginning at 468.29-30. Again, all this is anticipatory imagination: he will never actually achieve liftoff. 468.32: “bawling beersgrace at sorepaws:” a cricketer bowling to (left-handed) southpaws. “Beersgrace:” W. G. Grace, famous cricketer of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. A large man (one knickname was “the Big Un”) with a sprawling beard, known and sometimes criticized for his fierce competitiveness. Photographs make it clear why he might have been compared to a bear. In “Lestrygonians,” Bloom’s example of someone with a chip on his shoulder is “Bear with a sore paw.” 468.32-33: “Andrew Clays sharing sawdust with Daniel’s old collie:” perhaps an allusion to John Doyle’s once-famous editorial cartoon “The Lion and the Mouse:” Daniel O’Connell is the lion and John Russell the mouse. “Sawdust” signifies circus, in this case Rome’s Circus Maximus, where, according to the story, Androcles meets the lion whose sore paw he treated; the lion remembers and refrains from devouring him. 468.33-4: “This shack’s not big enough for me now. I’m dreaming of ye, azores:” as aeronaut, he’s flying free of his shack – barrel as shanty – and contemplating winging westward to, for instance, the Azores. Also, into the wild blue (“azores”) azure sky 468.35: “witch on the heath, sistra:” Macbeth meets the witches, the “weird sisters,” on a “heath.” 468.36: “’Bansheeba peeling hourihaared:” Oxford editors delete the apostrophe before “Bansheeba.” Bathsheba stripping (goes with David thread); Banshee keening (goes with witch thread). (So does Sheba.) Also, both she and “Orcotron” (McHugh: Boucicault’s The Octoroon) are getting hoary-haired, are (468.36-439.1) “hoaring ho.” 469.3: “wandering sons of red loam!:” perhaps a coincidence, but loam, including red loam (one of Ireland’s native soils) is good for growing potatoes; its wandering sons might be exiles from Ireland. 469.3-4: “earth’s…sun’s…air’s…water’s:” could be Icarus’ itinerary: starts from the ground, flies towards the sun, falls through the air, lands in the drink. 469.4: “The water’s great!:” popular expression: “Come on in, the water’s fine!” 469.4-5: “Seven oldy oldy hills and the one blue beamer:” his airborne journey is taking him all over the world (Jerusalem (.9), Vineland/America (.11), London (.18), Venice (.19-20: see McHugh), with intermittent glances at other spots, including some in Ireland); here it’s Rome, as with the other sites, seen from the air – the seven hills (with an echo of “old as the hills”) and Saint Peter’s silver-blue dome; compare 319.7: “bully bluedomer.” 469.7-8: “staffet:” aside from (McHugh) part of a horseman’s (missing) equipment, a staff would indicate a pilgrim, setting off on a journey. Probably, in fact, a portmanteau for “wallet and staff,” traditional equipment for pilgrims 469.7-8: “spur on the moment!” spur of the moment; spurring on a horse – in this case, Pegasus 469.9: “freeboots’:” freebooter. Also, see note to 466.1-2. 469.9: “lend me wings:” given that he plans to fly the wide world over (.11), these are Pegasus’ wings for his horse. 469.10-16: “Jehusalem’s wall, clickclack…I’ll travel the void world over. It’s Winland for moyne, bickbuck! I hurt myself netly that time!...I feel like that hill of a whaler:” both Glasheen and McHugh note that this sequence draws on the story that Ireland’s (“bickbuck”) Buck (“whaler”) Whaley traveled to (“Jehusalem’s wall”) Jerusalem to play handball against its walls, thus (“Winland for moyne”) winning a bet. I would bet that “clickclack” and “bickbuck” are meant to imitate the sound of the ball hitting the wall, and that he “hurt” himself because playing handball for the first time in a while can be painful. “Hill of a whaler” recalls that Whaley was a member of Dublin’s notorious Hellfire Club. Despite “netly,” incidentally, handball does not involve a net. 469.11: “void world:” Stephen in “Scylla and Charybdis:” the world, like the church, is founded “upon the void.” 469.11: “Winland:” besides Vineland, Win-land – America, the destination of main-chancers – that is, would-be winners. Occurs in the vicinity of Americanisms: “Cheerup,” “bickbuck!,” “Jeejakers!” (These are also orders to the (flying) horse.) See next entry. Note: Glasheen finds no FW allusions to Charles Lindbergh, but it is at least a notable coincidence that this sequence, featuring an aviator in the company of several American references, should have been first published (in transition) in 1928, the year after Lindbergh’s flight to Paris. Also, see .20-1 and note. 469.11-3: “bickbuck! Jeejakers! I hurt meself netly that time! Come, by good frogmarchers!:” Jaun’s flight plans do not go smoothly. Here, he suffers a mishap, apparently from being bucked off of his (flying) horse, but, as the old injunction demands, gets right back on it. 469.13-4: “Come, my good frogmarchers! We felt the fall but we’ll front the defile:” for “the fall,” see .3-4 and note, .11-3 and note. Military fortitude is what’s called for at this juncture. To front a defile is to lead a file of soldiers (“Break ranks” will show up at .26) through a perilously narrow passage. 469.15: “quickened her:” hurried her up, gave her life, got her pregnant. Main point here is that his father and mother both kept going despite setbacks, and so will he. 469.15: “Sereth Maritza:” Santa Maria – Columbus’ flagship. Again, he’s heading for America, no matter what; the Columbus story, at least as I was taught in school, is that he kept staunchly commanding “Sail on!” despite the objections of his crew. The flying horse has become a sailing ship. 469.16: “Groenmund’s Circus:” Mink gives this a maybe for Greenland. “Mund” = monde = earth = land? Fits, more or less, the itinerary 469.15-6: “I feel like that hill of a whaler went yulding round Groenmund’s Circus:” Mink gives this a maybe for Greenland. “Mund” = monde = earth = land? Fits, more or less, the itinerary. Also, Greenland has long had a whaling industry. In general, he’s getting up steam for what he promises will be a speedy takeoff. 469.17: “his tree full of seaweeds and Dinky Doll asleep in her shell:” surreal, for sure, but makes a kind of logic if the dinky doll is Nora Barnacle. Barnacle shells, went the belief, were the eggs of barnacle geese; they attached themselves to driftwood and the birds hatched out of them. At 384.22, Tristran’s beloved, also at sea, is his “dinkum belle.” 469.18-9: “Squall aboard for Kew, hop!:” some disagreement with McHugh’s reading here. I take it as “It’s all aboard for you, so hop to it!” As such, the opposite of “All ashore that’s going ashore,” here as (.19) “Farewell awhile to her and thee!” 469.18: “Kew:” situated on the Thames, hence reachable from Dublin by water 469.20: “Macadam:” Madam; son of Adam. Also, as McHugh says, macadamized road, in this case presumably as seen from the sky. One of the ways in which Book III as a whole is, as Joyce wrote about III.4, “about roads,” travelled by the footsore Shaun/Jaun the post. 469.20-1: “Halt Linduff! Solo, solone, solong!:” see .11 and second note. Absence in Glasheen notwithstanding, I’m proposing this as an allusion to Charles Lindbergh and his 1927 flight. “Halt” may echo “Hail,” “Linduff” Lindbergh. He flew (“Solo”) solo and was popularly known as (“solone”) “the Lone Eagle.” “So long” is an American expression for goodbye – the kind of thing his American well-wishers might have said as he flew off. See next item. 469.21-2: “Lood Erynnana, ware thee wail! With me singame soarem o’erem! Here’s me take off:” anticipating soaring over them, he is (he thinks) about to take off/achieve (aerial) takeoff. Again, the action is flying, the idiom American. Lindbergh overflew Ireland on his way to France; “Erynnana,” as Brendan O Hehir notes, means Ireland and sounds two other Irish notes. It’s at least pleasant to think of Lindbergh as wishing Ireland (and Anna) well as it/she passed beneath his wings. 469.24: “hotfoots:” to hotfoot: American slang for making haste. Also, considering “You watch my smoke” (.27-8), possibly also an American prank: a match is secretly inserted in the sole of someone’s shoe and lit. 469.24: “all to the whished:” all to the west. (Lindbergh flew east, leaving all to the west.) 469.25: “panromain:” 1. pantomime. 2. Pan-Roman – probably referring to the Catholicism as the universal church, with its Latin, as illustrated by the “Benedictat” prayer just spoken. 469.25: “apological:” (Christian) apologetics – words in defense of the faith 469.25-6: “Watllwewhistlem sang to the kerrycoys:” James Watt and the whistling teakettle, which sang to him and eventually resulted in the locomotive, which also has a whistle. An Irish train line runs through County Kerry, known for its cows (“Kerry cows” appears in “Oxen of the Sun”), who would thereby be able to hear it. (At 28-9, the train’s smokestack will make an appearance.) 469.26: “Break ranks!:” militarily, either a sign of disarray (the troops are not holding formation) or its opposite (an order to abandon formation and advance independently) 469.28-9: “smoke…fireless:” expression: where there’s smoke, there must be fire. (Not this time, though: Jaun has failed to deliver.) 469.29: “fireless:” see entry for .25-6: smoke without fire – what you’d see from the smokestack 469.31: “a flirt of wings were pouring to his bysistance:” he needs help getting off the ground, so they’re flapping their wings to give him liftoff. “Flirt of” is Joyce’s contribution to “gaggle of geese,” “murder of crows,” etc.: the (winged) girls are flirting. 469.31-3: “could they snip that curl of curls to lay with their gloves and keep the kids bright:” they would like a lock of his curly hair either to keep in their gloves to remember him by or to have as a memento tucked in with one of his own gloves, also as memento. If it was a kid glove, they would be especially careful – handle it, so to speak, with kid gloves. (In their early courtship, Joyce would keep one of Nora’s gloves next to him in bed.) 459.33-4: “prepared to cheer him should he leap or to curse hm should he fall:” Molly Bloom: “I hate an unlucky man.” 469.35: “set down here and sedan chair:” sit down here, set down there (on the (“charabang” (.35)) charabanc) 469.36: “don’t you wish you’d a yoke or a bit in your mouth:” goes with “rodeo” (.34) in western American sense. Early charabancs (.35) were pulled by horses; in Google Images, it is always or almost always by yokes, not bits. General sense is that the fetching sight of the girls in their charabanc would naturally make him want a yoke (or maybe bit) to pull them with. May recall Mr Browne’s story in “The Dead,” “of how the gallery boys would sometimes in their enthusiasm unyoke the horses from the carriage of some great prima donna and pull her themselves through the streets to her hotel.” 469.36-470.1: “repulsing all attempts at first hands on, as no es nada:” it takes some checking, but the subject of this sentence is still the leap-year girls of 469.30, who are fine with treasuring his token of remembrance and with waving goodbye, but not with any “hands on” hankypank. 470.2: “hermetic prod:” in context, besides Hermes prodding the dead with his caduceus (McHugh), perhaps also a cattle prod. Given Joyce’s commentary (also in McHugh), it’s pertinent that Hermes is the god of transitions. Also, like Jaun at this juncture, he has wings. 470.3: “to sit up and take notice:” slowly filling with water, the barrel rights itself and floats off, before eventually sinking. (It (Jaun) thinks it’s about to take off, ending up “in’sheaven” (469.30), the seventh heaven.) See 471.5-6 and note. Earlier in the chapter, the barrel was “restant” (429.17), sideways or at an angle. 470.3: “magic:” the caduceus (.02) is magical. 470.4: “February Filldyke:” see McHugh. The sense of the old agricultural rhyme seems to be that in February filling ditches is the only thing worth doing. 470.5-6: “weeps…kneedeep in tears:” a similar scene – a girls swamped in her own tears - occurs in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Joyce first read it in May of 1927; the original of this passage appears in the 1928 transition. 470.7: “meednight sunflower, piopadey boy:” the Peep of Day Boys were so named because their assaults occurred between dusk and dawn. The “sunflower” may be Guinness’s “familiar yellow label” (.26-7). 470.7: “solase in dorckaness:” to repeat from the entry for 215.36: “(Saint) Dorcas, a.k.a. Tabitha, biblical widow and patroness of women doing good works…Brewer notes the charitable “’Dorcas Society.’” Hence (“solase”) solace 470.8: “plaps:” claps, palps. The girls are splattering the water with the tips of their fingers, making a clip-clapping noise. Resembles the sound of a (female) typing pool; compare “typmanzelles” of .33, glossed by McHugh as “Tippmansell,” German for lady typist; see note to 430.11. 470.11: “A dream of favours:” Tennyson’s “A Dream of Fair Women” 470.11-2: “They know how they believe that they believe that they know:” compare 142.31-5. 470.13: “Oh jourd’woe:” Oh day (jour) of woe – presumably because Jaun is leaving 470.15: “Leafboughnoon:” German lebensbaum: tree of life, evergreen. The Lebanese cedar is evergreen. Also, Good Friday service commences at noon. Also, a leafy “Oasis,” giving relief from the noon sun. Of the seven prayers commencing here, at least six (the one at .18 seems to be an exception) have to do with trees. 470.16: “Oisis:” Isis, paired with (“dosiriously” (.13)) her husband Osiris 470.16: “coolpressus onmountof:” “Cool pressing” is a way of making olive oil; Jesus ascended to heaven from the Mount of Olives. Again (note to .15), every line but one here involves a tree; this one is the olive tree. 470.16: “onmountof of Sighing!:” besides (McHugh) Mount Zion, likely sexual innuendo: they sigh when he mounts them, presumably one at a time, although FW can sometimes (e.g. 430.17-24) insinuate otherwise. 470.20: “plantainous:” plenteous. (And, of course, a plantain tree) 470.20: “dewstuckacqmirage:” dewdrop aquamarine, a gem used in jewelry. Along with heliotrope, aquamarine is the birthstone for March, Nora’s birth month. Also, in this case the oasis is a “-mirage.” 470.20: “playtennis:” Platonist – the right kind of philosophy for someone about to leave the earth. Also, Joyce associates tennis with upper-class leisure. 470.21: “Pipetto, Pipetta has misery unnoticed:” basically, the story of Browning’s “Pippa Passes:” she passes one misery after another without noticing. 470.22-3: “Backscuttling for the hop off with the odds altogether in favour of his tumbling into the river:” the turning tide, in the nick of time, has righted him and sent him off on the river’s surface. (For a spell – at the chapter’s end he will sink anyway.) 470.22-3: “the hop off:” according to Google Books, at the time, “hop off” (or “hop-off”) was an aviation expression, meaning essentially the same as takeoff. 470.25: “half droopleaflong:” confirms (compare .8) that the girls tapping the water with their fingers were also trees dipping their leaves 470.26: “last post:” 1. last mail delivery of the day. 2. bugle call in memory of the dead – hence the “mourning” (.26). Often followed by Reveille. Note “blew his own trumpet” at .29. 470.26-7: “yellow label:” Guinness Stout with its oval (.31) yellow label 470.27: “drop:” probably a first raindrop 470.28: “blew his own trumpet:” expression: “blew his own horn;” see first note to .26. In America, means to brag, and at 469.9 his words were “Jaun the Boast’s.” Also a fart (after Dante’s “Ed egli ave del cul fatto trombetta,” quoted in “Scylla and Charybdis”) - supplying the rocket power which eventually lets Jaun take off 470.30: “stickyback:” slang for stamp. (See McHugh. ) Bloom in “Calypso:” “Stamps. Stickyback pictures.” Compare next entry. 470.31: “oval:” some cancel stamps are/were oval. 470.31: “oval badge of belief:” the Guinness label: down through the years usually oval, and often some shade of yellow, especially for export. Standard for bottles but not, as best I can find, barrels. The “belief?” Probably, “Guinness is good for you.” 470.31: “agnelows brow:” on Good Friday, Jesus as Lamb of God. Perhaps also “lowbrow:” figuratively, it would apply to Jaun; literally, at .33-4, we see “the shag of his parallel brows.” 470.32-3: “turned his ladylike typmanzelles capsy curvy:” to turn someone’s head is to make them notice you favorably, often romantically. “Capsy” – cap – caput: head. The (curvy) girls are topsy-turvily smitten with him; in sense of upside-down, the topsy-turviness may have to do with their reflections in the stream. 470.33: “Juan Jaimesan:” includes French aimer – once again, Jaun, inverting the vowels, has become a (Don) Juan; compare 461.31 and note. Also, again: John and James: Joyce’s father John and his son James; Joyce’s older (deceased) brother John and his brother James; in reversed order, James and his younger brother John (Stanislaus); almost certainly the basis for FW’s Shaun/Shem pair-off; JJ (James Joyce); John and James: Jesus’ “Boanerges,” “Sons of Thunder” 470.33: “hastaluego:” Spanish, to go with Don Juan 470.34: “the shag of his parallel brows:” according to Google Books, the expression “parallel brows” was rare before 1950. It seems to mean eyebrows forming a parallel line except for the space between. A fashion desideratum today, but almost always for women, not men, and not “shag”gy. Seems to work for Jaun here. 470.35: “handacross:” handkerchief (compare 471.23); when white a sign of peace – hence “as notice the quit” (the hostilities (.35)) 470.35: “a handacross the sea:” A number of compositions, including an 1899 march by John Philip Sousa, have been entitled “Hands Across the Sea.” The songs and poems mostly celebrate let-bygones-be-bygones harmony between America and Great Britain. None I’ve found specifically promote the WW I alliance between the two, but here the “pacifettes” making their “armpacts” (armistice) at the time of the 1918 Armistice (see next two entries) would seem to be along that line. 470.36-471.5: “the pacifettes…O Peace!):” Joyce to Harriet Shaw Weaver, in continuation of August 8, 1928 commentary on Maronite service: “These are 29 words for ‘Peace’ taken from or modelled on the following tongues and variations (German, Dano-Norwegian, Provençal, French, Greek, French variations, Malay, Echo, Gipsy, Magyar children, Armenian, Senegalese, Latin Variation, Irish, Diminutive, N. Breton, S. Breton, Chinese, Pidgin, Arabic, Hebrew, Sanscrit, Hindustani and English = O for goodness sake leave off!). This word was actually sighed around the world in that way in 1918.” (Not clear what Joyce means by “actually,” here – neither radio nor any other medium was yet available, and no one seems to have tracked down a record of any such coordinated event.) See next two items. 470.36: “pacifettes:” pacifist children, specifically the 29 leap-year girls; see previous entry. Many of the words “sighed” (470.36-471.5) are also names, all of them, when the sex can be inferred, female. 470.36: “armpacts:” armistice of November 11, 1918, when the “word” was (see note to 470.36-471.1) “sighed” 471.4: “Happinice!:” happiness, with an overtone of (please be nice and give me) ha’pence 471.5: “Sainta! Sianta!:” “Shanti Shanti.” (See note to 454.33.) 471.5-6: “selfrighting the balance of his corporeity:” see 470.3 and note. Again, some Guinness Barrels were convex in outline in a way that suggests corpulence. Given that this is Jaun, “selfrighting” probably has an overtone of self-righteousness. 471.7: “pillarbosom:” as in bosom buddies, bosom brothers: upright barrel and upright pillarbox resemble one another like brothers. (According to Google Images, some Dublin pillarboxes from the time were pretty wide as well.) Also, Pilobilus crystallinus is a fungus, popularly named “Dung-cannon” and “Hat-thrower,” known for its ability to orient toward the sun (see .12: “easting”) and eject spores at “over 20,000 G, equivalent to a human being launched at 100 times the speed of sound” (Wikipedia). This presumably explains the name of New York City’s Pilobolus Dance Company; here, it goes with Jaun’s attempt to achieve liftoff. 471.7: “Dizzier he loved prettier:” Issy, as dizzy dame (a phrase, mainly American, popular in Joyce’s time), but also, compared to Marge (the down-to-earth one), the prettier one; between her and Marge, he loves Issy more. Also, overtone of Swift’s Esther(s) – see “hes sthers” (471.11-2). 471.8: “bad luck to:” after Irish expression “Bad cess to” 471.9: “star and gartergazer:” stars and garters: British court honors. Order of the Garter. “Oh my stars and garters” was a popular expression of the time. 471.10: “he toppled a lipple:” echoes line “She began to bump a little bit” from the song “What Ho, She Bumps.” Compare 547.20-1. Overtone of “tipple:” he’s tipping and toppling because of too much tippling. (Natural enough, after all, for a beer barrel.) Also, the tilting barrel 471.10-11: “making a brandnew start for himself to run down his easting:” whatever the perturbations before, by now he definitely seems set on an easterly route, out to sea, in a hurry. (Barreling east as fast as possible, he is a “meccamaniac” (.14), maniacally heading Mecca-wise.) Before making it all the way he will sink, but from here to .34 all the talk is about his speed – “with an easy rush and ready relays” (.15-6), as a (“stadion”) stallion in a horse race at (“aqueducked” (.18)) Aqueduct Racetrack who almost ran into the rear of the horse, Ladycastle, before passing her (.16-8), he is moving “away with him at the double” (.20), “pelting after the road on Shanks’s mare” (McHugh: running on his own legs (.21)), like the wind and a “wind hound” (.21), as if they’d just this minute given him his (“jambos,” French for legs, to run with (.23)), he is “quickly lost to sight” (.23). As noted at entry for 3.2-3 and elsewhere, the tide has just recently turned, sending him eastward. 471.11-2: “blessing hes sthers with the sign of the southern cross:” as dean, Swift blesses both of his Esthers/stars: under the circumstances, something of a cop-out, since it dodges the question of 104.11-2: “Which of your Hesterdays Mean Ye to Morra?” Also, a question: how do you distinguish a “southern” sign of the cross from a northern? Perhaps by reversing the order. Orthodox priests, making the sign, go up-down-right-left, as opposed to Catholic up-down-left-right. Since, in the former, the last movement is counter-clockwise, it might fairly be described as widdershins (470.36, 471.6-7). (Equally-oppositely, in the southern hemisphere water drains clockwise; northern hemisphere is reverse – but then, see .15 and note.) The Southern Cross was once visible to the ancients of the British Isles, but disappeared due to the precession of the equinox. Again, Joyce said that (probably) Book III moved backward in time, and at 472.17-8 Jaun’s pilgrimage is “to your antipodes in the past” – both toward the southern hemisphere, where the constellation is visible now, and, possibly, back to a time when it was visible in Ireland. In Ireland in the spring, the Northern Cross, usually called Cygnus, appears on the horizon during the early morning hours. As of 447.25, the hour was 2 a.m. This annotator is on record as believing that FW is set on March 21 and the morning of the 22nd. 471.12-3: “his bungaloid borsaline with the hedgygreen bound blew off in a loveblast:” 1. Due to mounting pressure, the barrel’s top lid blows off. “Bung” is the barrel’s bunghole; also slang for anus. “Hedgygreen” seems to indicate London’s “Green Belt” (compare 563.24-5); Jaun/Shaun is fat and, at least in his HCE incarnation, wears an overly tightened belt out of vanity, thus contributing to his earwiggy outline. “Loveblast” confirms other indications that the climax is sexual as well as digestive. A Borsalino hat is exceptionally large, and, with some imagination, could be taken to resemble the roof of a Polynesian bungalow. An Irish politician (see note to .14) might naturally wear a green band around his hat. So might Joyce, an Irishman who often wore the Italian borsalino. 2. In a race (see .14 and note), a hat of such wind resistance would naturally be blown off. 3. Given proximity, noted by McHugh, of (“wind hound loose” (.21-2)), Wyndham Lewis, “loveblast” probably has to do with Lewis’s publication, with others, of the pre-war Blast. 471.14: “trover:” trouveller: troubadour 471.14: “Jawjon Redhead, bucketing after:” John Redmond, political successor to Parnell. (Some of the preceding narrative, of an Irish politician who falls just short of triumph because of sexual scandal, would apply to Parnell.) “Jawjon” alludes to his speechifying (Winston Churchill, probably not originally, was later to use “jawjaw.”) 471.14: “bucketing:” bucket: a barrel minus the top: see .12-3 and note. Also, slang for speeding, especially in a race; from here until .34, Jaun is in a hurry. 471.15: “(the headless shall have legs!):” a parody of Jesus’ beatitudes. Barrels don’t have legs. (Nor, without its top, does this one have a head. In at least two senses, he’s lost his head.) 471.15: “kingscouriered:” as postman (echoing “these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds”) corkscrewing (turning) around – which, for a change, would be clockwise. (Goes with turning/turned tide: see 426.27 and note.) Also, given racing context, possibly “king’s colours;” compare “backing king’s colours” in “Nestor,” as Stephen contemplates pictures of race horses. (Can’t find a gloss; presumably means betting on the king’s entry in a race.) Perhaps this is the place to note the Phoenix Park Races, during Joyce’s lifetime held regularly at the northern edge of Phoenix Park; this may recall one such race. 471.16: “a stadion beyond Ladycastle:” see McHugh. In the race, he’s about 600 feet beyond Ladycastle, evidently the name of a rival horse. Given testimony to his speed, “beyond” means in front of her, in this case by a ridiculously long lead. 471.17-8: “narrowly missed fouling her buttress for her but for he aqueducked:” see McHugh. As a floating barrel bobbing up and down, he was able duck a collision with the Liffey’s Butt Bridge. 471.17: “what herm:” what harm? He almost committed a foul – see third note to .17 – but got away with it. 471.17: “herm:” supplementing McHugh: surely pertinent that a Hermes herm included an erect penis. See next item. 471.17: “fouling her buttress:” foully feeling up her butt – easily done if (see note to .17-8) the butt is Butt Bridge and he going under it. Given context, turnabout is fair play: travelers would stroke herm erections (see previous entry) for good luck. Also, another report from the horse race: a jockey has “narrowly missed” a racing foul – probably of prohibited contact with the butt of a competing horse. Some facetious double-meaning “flying buttress” is probably in play as well. 471.18: “acqueducked:” ducked, thus avoiding the foul – and, of course, ducks go with water. Also, again, New York’s Aqueduct Racetrack 471.19-20: “from that region’s general:” postage rates increased in ratio to the distance from Dublin’s General Post Office. Also, along with (McHugh) an allusion to the Russian General of II.3, he’s leaving the general region. 471.20: “at the double:” the American expression would be “on the double.” 471.21: “pelting after the road:” American readers may not know that this means the equivalent of hurrying (like mad) along the road. 471.21: “on Shanks’s mare:” see McHugh. A reminder that, as a postman, Jaun is first and foremost a walker. Also, more horse race talk; compare entries for .10-11 and .17. 471.21: “wind hound:” to “wind a horn” is to blow a wind instrument; also “Wind horn” is a stage direction for accompanying music. Doesn’t work syntactically, but “bouchal” (.22: “embouchure”), “windward,” “seraph’s summonses,” and “on the air” (.24) appear to confirm. 471.22-3: “they gave him the jambos:” at .15 he didn’t have legs (French jambes); now he does (he did as of .21: see McHugh on “Shanks’s mare”) - which explains how he can run so fast. 471.23-6: “with a posse of tossing hankerwaves to his windwards like a seraph’s summonses on the air and a tempest of good things in packetshape teeming from all accounts into the funnel of his fanmail shrimpnet:” a scramble of random bounties: fan mail (OED’s earliest instance of the term in modern sense is 1924), pouring in, courtesy of the post office; shrimp teeming into the (funnel-shaped: see pictures for “shrimp net” in Google Images) net attached to the ship’s stern because the “tempest” is propelling the boat “windward” (.24); even the normally dreaded sheriff’s summons, even when backed up by a “posse,” turns out to be, as in some contemporary hymns, a seraphs’ invitation, accompanied by wellwishers, to join the celestial blessed. All in all, an extravagantly elaborated edition of the old, not to say hackneyed, “Irish” blessing that “the wind be always at your back” etc. – here addressed to Jaun, lapwing, about to sink. Typically, prevailing winds along the Liffey at night would be heading inland from the sea, so that the girls, with Jaun heading in the other direction, are “windward” of him. The wind is blowing their handkerchiefs, perhaps by stirring whitecaps on the river surface. 471.25: “good things in packetshape:” “Good things come in small packages.” Also, a packet ship. Packets ships often carried the mail, hence “fanmail” (.26), both as carried by Shaun the Postman and delivered to Jaun the ladies’ favorite. 471.26-7: “along the highroad of the nation, Trailor’s Track:” trader’s track(s) – the sea lanes of oceangoing commerce, by which he will be transporting his (“shrimpnet” (.26)) shipment 471.27: “which fond floral fray:” refers to the “posse of tossing hankerwaves” (.23), with “posse” a variant of “posey” 471.29: “on that same head:” that is, by the same token 471.29-34: “to memory dear…farvel!:” gist: the fixture he was next to at chapter’s beginning (429.18-22) is now, because of his travels, lost to sight and soon to memory as well. 471.30: “Sickerson, that borne of a bjoerne:” “Sickerson” = Sackerson, the bearpit bear that Stephen mentions in “Scylla and Charybdis.” (As McHugh notes, “bjoerne” = “Bjørnson” = “son of a bear.”) 471.32: “warmin of her besom:” warmer/war-man of her bosom/besom (besom – broom - suggests female menial, witchcraft); woman of his bosom. Probably Kate, female counterpart to (“Sickerson” (.30)) Sackerson. She is old enough to have “wrung” Jaun’s “swaddles” (.34) when he was a baby. (That he once warmed her bosom suggests that she also wet-nursed him.) As “hellyg Ursulinka, full of woe” (.31), Saint Ursula, she is a super-duper downbeat version of the Blessed Virgin Mary, full of grace: one was a virgin, the other a virgin plus the representative of 11,000 others, which does seem rather like overdoing things. That is definitely how Mulligan sees it in “Telemachus:” “The aunt always keeps plainlooking servants for Malachi. Lead him not into temptation. And her name is Ursula.” That “Ursulinka” traces to the Latin for “bear” is another link to the Sackerson who here goes by a version of the Scandinavian for (McHugh) “son of a bear.” Both servants can be (bearishly) grouchy. 471.34: “Ate Andrew coos hogdam farvel:” Christiani translates as “Another freightship gone, I suppose.” Seems to go with the packet ship of .25. Also, “And Andrew coos [says or sings sweetly] farewell to hogdom.” “Hogdom” = domain of pigs or piggish people. (Occurs in some translations of Circe episode of Odyssey; in the context probably applies to Ireland.) “Farvel:” James Farewell, author of anti-Irish satire, quoted at 472.1-2 (see McHugh for that entry); also compare 472.13: “My long farewell!” 471.35: “Haun:” German huhn: crowing cock of dawn 471.36: “crooner:” crower; also (distinctively) American singer popular over the radio at the time; compare 388.1. 471.36: “crooner born:” born to sing; compare “coos” of .34. 472.1: “heart in hand: Claddagh ring feature: hand(s) holding heart. Also, open-hearted. Also, hat in hand - a beggar’s gesture. In general, a token of excessive, probably bogus, sentimentality. 472.2-3: “The googoos of the suckabolly in the rockabeddy are become the copiosity of the wiseableness:” Dublin motto: “Obedientia civium urbis felicitas.” “Goo-goo”/ ”googoo” is baby-talk, hence a disparaging term for would-be opponents of municipal graft (“good-government” naifs); “rockabeddy” (as in Rockabye, baby”) and “suckabolly” (sucking a bottle, hence sucker) go with the first definition. Also: innocent/ignorant babes have grown up into greedy wise guys/wise men. 472.3-4: “friarylayman in the pulpitbarrel:” Jaun as (again, uprighted) barrel; orating from its blown-open top, he looks like a preacher in the pulpit. Also: friars take vows of poverty, and in cartoons of the time poor people wore barrels. 472.5: “wideheaded:” brachycephalic, a.k.a. round-headed - phrenologically, sign of a perhaps cerebrally mediocre but practical-minded person. Long-headed types (in “Telemachus,” Mulligan has an “equine” skull; the technical term was either “dolicephalic” or “dolichosecephalic”) were born to rule (the English considered themselves literally and figuratively long-headed) but perhaps not all that likeable or loyal. In Portrait, chapter five, Stephen’s amiable Italian teacher, Father Charles Ghezzi, is “roundheaded;” in “Wandering Rocks” he returns as Almidoni Artifoni, Stephen’s equally amiable music teacher and probably his only true friend. Roundhead Cromwell, not amiable in the least but certainly practical, is also in the mix. Also: as “whiteheaded:” Jaun’s hair has been growing “rarer and fairer:” he’s been going bald and turning white. See 465.16-7. 472.5-6: “Mint your peas! Coax your qyous!:” The advice is Iago-ish: make (or better yet, mint) money and/or mind your money: p’s (pence) and q’s (quid). Also, equal-oppositely: friars and others taking vows of poverty proverbially lived on pulse (peas) and water; for those not totally mortifying the flesh, mint is sometimes served with peas. Also, advice, or instruction, on singing, especially when it comes to “p” and “q” sounds. See next entry. 472.6: “to disdoon blarmey:” to disdain blarney: some orders also take vows of silence. 472.7: “sweet rockelose:” given context, rocking cradle. Also, cathedral close: at .7-8 he’s singing a hymn to his beloved church. Also, OED says that a “recluse” can be a place as well as a person. For a person, it can signify a prisoner: “Piper to prisoned!” (.9) 472.8-9: “touch the light theorbo:” touch the lute; dance the light fantastic: compare “choreographer” of next line. 472.9: “Piper to prisoned!:” making music for those imprisoned within 472.13-4: “My long farewell I send to you, fair dream of sport and game and always something new:” As McHugh notes, this echoes the song Joyce sang at Dublin’s annual Feis Ceoil competition, to acclaim. John McCormack had won the previous year, and went on to fame and fortune, especially in America. As elsewhere in II.1-3, some of pages 472-3 is tracking McCormack’s career, Joyce’s road not taken – for instance 9-10: “Musicianship made Embrassador-at-Large:” McCormack was a musician, he was large, and he was known as Ireland’s “Ambassador of Song.” 472.15: “Joss-el-Jovan:” echo of John/James A. Joyce 472.16: “from last to first:” Jesus: “The last shall be first, and the first last.” 472.17: “photophoric:” according to the OED, Alexander Graham Bell’s “photophone” transmitted sound via beams of light. Also, ocean phosphorescence, stirred up in Jaun’s wake 472.18-9: “cocking a snook:” an insulting gesture; the bottom of FW p. 308 gives an illustration. 472.19: “into our nevertoolatetolove box:” compare Bloom in “Circe:” I am exhausted, abandoned, no more young. I stand, so to speak, with an unposted letter bearing the extra regulation fee before the toolate box of the general postoffice of human life.” 472.21: “you of the boots:” for the rest of the sequence, Jaun sometimes seems to double with Sackerson, “the boots” of the Mullingar, his neighbor from the chapter’s outset. 472.21: “pennyatimer:” the expression “a penny at a time” typically appears in the sense of “A penny saved is a penny earned:” save a penny a day and it will add up. As overtone of a “penny-a-line man,” a hack journalist 472.22: “lampaddyfair:” McHugh traces this to Greek for torch-bearer; Sackerson is the “torchbearing supperaape” (221.7) – that is, a linkboy, a menial who lights sedans through dark streets. (Compare, for instance, 623.14.) “Paddy:” slang for Irishman 472.22: “rommanychiel:” manchild 472.23-4: “But could it speak how nicely would it splutter:” “Splutter” as both sputtering candle and spluttering speaker. Perhaps follows from “photophoric” (photophone) of .17 (see note) – speech and light in one signal 472.25: “their:” antecedent: the saints 472.28-473.5: “there are…flagway:” ambiguous. Either 1. There are still a dozen people alive in Ireland hoping to live long enough to see your return, or 2. There are still a dozen people alive in Ireland, period. The latter would be a hyperbolic version of contemporary concerns over Ireland’s depopulation through famine and emigration. 472.30: “this grand continuance:” James Joseph Sylvester, 19th century mathematician, called space “the grand continuum.” His name shows up at 473.3. 472.31: “accidence:” Aristotelian sense of “accidents:” secondary properties, not essential 472.35: “the people that is:” Irishism? Compare Lily in “The Dead:” “The men that is now.” 473.1: “mind:” remind 473.1-2: “mind us of what was when and to matter us of the withering of our ways:” expression: mind over matter 473.1-2: “decennia of brief glory, to mind us of what was when and to matter us of the withering of our ways:” there are many different versions, but the gist is that when a Roman emperor was given a triumph, a soldier would ride in his chariot, out of sight, and keep reminding him that glory was brief and that he was mortal. “Matter:” mutter; compare .4: “murmurand.” 473.3-4: “Janyouare…Walker:” Johnny Walker, a brand of whiskey (compare 210.13); later (.4-5) Walker becomes a Waltzer, Johnny (see McHugh) the marcher of “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.” 473.5: “the summer crust of the flagway:” Google Books shows one pertinent “summer crust:” from a 1906 British Civil Engineers book of instructions for seasonal road-building: “…it was found in the country around Dublin to be absolutely indispensable under certain conditions, for example, early in the winter when the summer crust or skin lifted with the moisture and after frost in the early spring when there had been a light shower.” A “flagway” is a road paved with flagstones. 473.6: “avicuum’s not there at all:” a literal if somewhat clunky definition of a vacuum - but also, I suggest, the expression, fairly frequent in the British Isles, that someone or something is nowhere or simply “not there” (the former occurs in “Oxen of the Sun”), meaning not in the running, offering no serious competition. Between you and nothing, Jaun, there’s no comparison. Sounds enthusiastic, but in truth rather faint praise 473.7: “nomad knows:” Matthew 24:36: “No man knows” the “day or hour” of Christ’s second coming. In this context, “the devil era” is probably what according to Revelations will be the “short time” of Satan’s reign after the Millennium. See .10 and note. 473.7-8: “Molochy wars bring the devil era:” Molochy wars would be infanticidal wars; see second note to .9. Perhaps also an allusion to the 12th century Malachi, who prophesied a succession of popes, followed by Armageddon – that is, for a spell, the reign of the devil, here as de Valera’s “devil era.” 473.8: “wars bring the devil era:” war bring the devil in 473.8-9: “a slip of the time between a date and a ghostmark:” saying: there’s many a slip ‘twixt the cup and the lip. Also, the time between completing a letter – dates were usually placed at the bottom – and posting it 473.9: “rived:” as with “riverrun” (.3.1): 1. Break in two (rive); 2. Join together (French “river”); 3. Dream (French “rêver”). Much of p. 473 relates to the turnings of night into day, dream into waking, old year into new year, and the end of FW into the beginning. 473.9: “chilldays embers:” in light of “Molochy” (Moloch, to whom children were sacrificed) of .7: Childermass, Herod’s slaughter of firstborn male children, commemorated on December 28. “Embers:” in Flaubert’s Salammbô, the child victims are burned alive. 473.9: “spatched:” dispatched 473.10: “John that dandyforth:” John’s is the fourth of the gospels. (McHugh notes John the Baptist; given context, also John of Patmos.) His words will round off the chapter; echoes of Revelations will commence FW’s Book IV, as the sun comes up. 473.10: “from the night we are and feel and fade:” compare 627.11: “First we feel. Then we fall.” 473.12: “But, boy:” both direct address to Jaun as boy and American exclamation: Boy! 473.12: “nine furlong:” as one and one-eighth miles, the standard distance for many horse races. Jaun is running a race; for instance “turnupon” (.11) probably includes the “turn” of such races; compare 342.17-18. 473.13: “farfetched:” also farfamed 473.13-4: “champion docile:” French “champs du ciel:” either the night sky in general or the thirty-nine northern constellations 473.16-7: “The phaynix rose a sun before Erebia sank his smother:” the phoenix here doubles with Jesus, sun and son, which/who will rise in the east, Arabia. Erebus (“Erebia”) is the classical Hades, represented as a land of darkness. The sun rises in the east before it sinks into the dark. Also, Stephen Dedalus is tormented by the accusation that he killed his mother. 473.16: “phaynix:” fey: fated to die soon. To “nix” something is to repudiate it forcefully. Compare Stephen in “Circe:” “Damn death.” (Joyce expresses similar sentiments in his letters to Nora.) The phoenix, rising from its ashes, nixes death. 473.17: “Shoot up on that, bright Bennu bird! Va foutre!:” French for “Fuck you!” is sometimes accompanied by energetically bending the right arm upward from the elbow. Possibly doubling with a – more upbeat – Franglais idea of something like “Go forward, to the future!” 473.18: “sphoenix:” sphinx. Perhaps anticipates Yeats’ “The Second Coming” in counterpointing demigod (Jesus/phoenix) with half-man half-beast 473.19: “flambe:” “flambeau:” torch 473.19-23: “Ay, already the sombrer opacities of the gloom are sphanished! Brave footsore Haun! Work your progress! Hold to! Now! Win out, ye divil ye! The silent cock shall crow at last. The west shall shake the east awake:” echoes the words and sentiment of the last verse of Arthur Hugh Clough’s popular “Say Not the Struggle Naught Availeth: “And not by eastern windows only, / When daylight comes, comes in the light; / In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly! / But westward, look, the land is bright!” Other poets have noted that before dawn the west may light up before the east. Also, the saying “It’s always darkest before the dawn.” 473.20: “sphanished:” because the sun is to the south, in the direction of Spain 473.22-3: “The west shall shake the east awake:” in Thomas Davis’ song “The West’s Awake,” the west signifies the Irish rebels of, especially, Connacht, rousing the rest of the country against English tyranny. 473.23: “awake:” coming after “sphoenix” (.18), this probably constitutes Joyce’s (ridiculous) idea of a hint as to the title, Finnegans Wake. 473.23-4: “lightbreakfastbringer:” 1. Lucifer means “lightbringer” and has often been identified with the morning (and evening) star, Venus, which appears before dawn. 2. Jaun is a torch-bearer (.19). 3. In France, a light breakfast would typically include a croissant; compare 26.27: “The horn for breakfast.” 473.24-5: “full fost sleep:” fall fast asleep : III.3 474.3: “wallet…staff:” insignia of pilgrim. (Jaun/Yawn was starting a pilgrimage to Jerusalem at 468.23-469.28.) 474.3: “citron:” a Mediterranean tree 474.4: “stick-pass-on:” the “staff” (.3) as baton in a relay race 474.4-5: “His dream monologue was over, of cause, but his drama parapolylogic had yet to be:” III.3 will in fact be a chapter of many (contending) voices. 474.5: “of cause,…affect:” of course…in fact 474.6: “my dear:” the first of a series of addresses to the reader, after the convention of “Dear reader” 474.7: “his locks of lucan tinge:” Shaun/Jaun/Yawn is, often, the light-haired one. 474.7: “rippling:” because viewed through rippling surface of the body of water into which Yawn sank at the end of the last chapter. See next entry. 474.7: “unfilleted:” the hair is unbound by a loosened fillet – a ribbon or headband. (Untied and underwater, it would naturally be “ripely rippling” (.7).) 474.8: ”lashbetasselled lids:” eyelashes with eyelids 474.9: “ouze of his sidewiseopen mouth:” as in, the mouth of England’s River Ouse: its name derives from Danish os, mouth. 474.9: “sidewiseopen:” expression: side of the mouth 474.9-10: “evenso languishing as the princeliest treble treacle or lichee chewchow purse could buy:” that is, he had sweet-smelling breath and spoke sweet-sounding words. Treacle and lychee nuts are both sweet-tasting; so, coincidentally or not, is (.9) ouzo. See entry for .12, entry for 477.30. 474.11: “semiswoon:” what would be called a hypnagogic state, also called “twilight sleep,” commonly experienced on falling asleep or waking; also, induced by opium. See 475.9-10, 476.20-2 and notes. 474.12: “honeyful swoothead:” honey, sweetheart. Also, even his sweat smells sweet, like honey. (According to some reports, this was literally true of H.G. Wells.) 474.14: “bluntblank pin:” Mont Blanc pen 474.15: “love:” more romantic gush: “love” in the (English) idiomatic sense of a lovable person 474.16-7: “the buzzer brings the light brigade, keeping the home fires burning:” 1. ringing for a servant to tend to the fire. 2. “Keep the Home Fires Burning” was a popular WW I song, supporting British (and later, American) soldiers in the conflict, as “The Charge of the Light Brigade” had celebrated British participation in the Crimean War. (Perhaps pertinent that Joyce, who sat out WW I in Switzerland, considered the Crimean War, and Tennyson’s cheerleading on its behalf, to have been criminally stupid.) Its most popular recording was by John McCormack. Irish men, exempted from conscription, were the recipients of a widespread campaign urging them to sign up anyway. McCormack’s recording, mainly directed at America’s entry in 1917, would also have been pertinent to Ireland. Compare note to .17-8. 474.16: "buzzer:" a telegraphic instument used in WW I 474.17: “churring call:” a “churr” (also “chirr”) is the sound made by some birds. 474.17-8: “came at him, from the westborders of the eastmidlands:” Compare the opening lines of “Keep the Home Fires Burning: “They were summoned from the hillside, / They were called in from the glen.” 474.19: “crowner:” Ulster, because of its loyalty to the crown 474.19: “cardinal parts:” the four cardinal points of the compass. Also, your annotator suggests that, among (many) other things, III.3 enacts a conclave of cardinals, burying the former pope and selecting his successor. See 475.24-5, 475.30, 497.7-8, 497.10, 499.14-5, and 504.19, with notes. 474.21: “first quaint skreek of the gloaming:” incipient dawn: first light. (A likely time for (see note to .17) bird calls.) “Quaint:” faint. Daylight will be arriving in III.4, and IV will be in the full light of dawn. 474.22-4: “up the mountainy molehill, traversing climes of old times gone by:” either/both 1. layers of sedimentary deposits, recording different geologic eras (and their respective “climes”) as one climbs from one level to another, 2. or the same essential thing, only in layers of turf. (See 475.24 and note.) Also, their climbing follows the paths of previous climbers. 475.1: “sweat of night:” night sweat 475.1-2: “Feefee! phopho!! foorchtha!!! aggala!!!! jeeshee!!!!! paloola!!!!!! ooridiminy!!!!!!!:” as McHugh notes, words for fear: a night-sweat nightmare has included “Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum” man-eating giant 475.3-4: “crossroads puzzlers:” suicides and other nondesirables were buried at crossroads. 475.3-4: “crossroads…nonplussing:” a plus sign is a (+) cross sign. The four inquisitors occupy the four extremities of his “length by breadth” (.4). 475.4-5: “length by breadth nonplussing his thickness, ells upon ells of him, making so many square yards:” that is, right now Yawn being measured in two dimensions, not three: “nonplussing” means something like “not including.” This will have changed by 476.32, when he is in “his cubical crib,” perhaps because in the interim they have begun to examine him in, so to speak, depth: see, e.g., .24 and note. 475.7-17: “There…belt:” glimmering, wavering reflections in water mix with descriptions of sunken Yawn. See .19-20 and note. 475.9: “one foule stretch:” one fell swoop. As McHugh notes, foule is French for crowd – Yawn will turn out to contain multitudes. 475.9-10: “the flowers of narcosis fourfettering his footlights:” poppies at his feet, numbing them and making them useless for walking. See 476.20-2 and note. 475.11: “epicures waltzing with gardenfillers:” based on Google Books occurrences, garden-fillers are plants or flowers which can be reliably expected to fill in all of any space where their seeds are sown. Here, paired with “epicures” - other, pickier growths, requiring more careful cultivation: see next entry. 475.11-2: “puritan shoots:” parting shots; also “shoots” of plants 475.12: “Phopho!:” perhaps Venus as Phosphor, harbinger of the dawn 475.12-6: “Phopho!!...Aggala!!!!...Paloola!!!!!!...Ooridiminy!!!!!!!:” as Yawn’s anatomy: head, guts, circulatory system, and nervous system, respectively. The head is a “rainbowl” (107.12), the entrails are centered at the “bellyvoid,” the blood flows through “veins,” and the nerves are (“electrolatiginous”) electric. There is a certain amount of interchange between the systems. Note that the four words, with the same number of exclamation marks intact, are a selection from the seven words of .1-2. Four is this chapter’s number. 475.12-7: “Phopho!!...belt:” as McHugh notes, the fixtures listed here are celestial. (E. L. Epstein observes that the “electrolatiginous twisted entrails belt” (.16-7) is the Milky Way.) As proposed in the note below to .19-20, I think that, looking down into the stream, they are seeing a (distorted) reflection of the night sky above their heads. That is why it is a “starchamber quiry” (.18-9). 475.13: “seamless rainbowpeel:” Jesus wore a seamless garment, here perhaps combined with Joseph’s coat of many colors. 475.14: “neverstop navel:” compare “Oxen of the Sun:” a “successive anastomosis of navelcords.” 475.15: “creamtocustard cometshair:” Latin coma, hair; comets are so named because their tails flair out like windborne hair. Again (see 475.7), his hair is unbound and whitish-to-yellowish. 475.18: “claymen:” includes French clé, key, pronounced “clay;” compare 478.21. (Digression: probably figures as well in the title of “Clay,” in Dubliners.) 475.19: “quiry:” “quire:” OED: “A set of four sheets of parchment or paper folded in two so as to form eight leaves.” (Occurs in this sense in “Ithaca.”) One of many variations on the four-ness (or, with their legs, eight-ness) of the inquisitors 475.19-20: “For he was ever their quarrel, the way they would see themselves:” because they are looking down into the water and the water surface, seeing reflections of themselves and the night sky above them, mixing with the sight of the submerged Yawn. To repeat my comment on 426.22-24: this, I think, owes a lot to a passage in chapter four of Wordsworth’s The Prelude, especially these lines, in which the poet compares his introspectively autobiographical self to someone looking down from the side of a boat, who …often is perplexed, and cannot part The shadow from the substance, rocks and sky, Mountains and clouds, reflected in the depth Of the clear flood, from things which there abide In their true dwelling; now is crossed by gleam Of his own image, by a sunbeam now, And wavering motions sent he knows not whence… 475.20-1: “everybug his bodiment atop of annywom her notion:” “Bog” is Gaelic for penis, here paired with the “wom”b of “wom”an. Perhaps adumbrates an incubus, embodying her dreaming notion of sex 475.22-3: “Mallinger parish…the son’s rest:” Mullingar Parish is to the west of Dublin/Chapelizod – that is, in the direction of the setting sun. The “knoll Asnoch” (476.5), Uisneach, ten miles southwest of the town of Mullingar, is traditionally the center of Ireland. Venerable sun/son pun is probably in play as well: Shaun/Yawn is HCE’s son, at rest. 475.24: “deep timefield:” deep time: phrase coined in the 18th century for geologic time, measured in millions/billions of years 475.27-8: “his Recordership, Dr. Shunadure Tarpey:” a Recorder, like Sir Frederick Falconer in Ulysses, is or was, in the words of Gifford and Seidman’s Ulysses Annotated, “the chief judicial officer of Dublin.” Luke Tarpey is from Dublin. As “Shunadure,” he is also one of the senescent “senators four” (474.21). 475.28: “caperchasing after honourable sleep:” as McHugh notes, goats (Latin caprae) and sheep – separating the sheep from the goats. Also, perhaps, counting sheep, to get to sleep; Google Books comes up with about a dozen instances of the phrase “honourable sleep”/”honorable sleep” in Joyce’s time, meaning something like “the sleep of the just.” 475.34: “by four lengths:” language of horse race. For instance, one horse leads another by four lengths - except that in this case the ass, always the last to show up, is lagging behind by that distance. Yet another (there will be many others) four 475.35: “like the kapr in the kabisses:” as McHugh notes, a goat among the cabbages. Proverbially, not a good thing: the goat will definitely eat them. A popular puzzle of the time adds a wolf to the mix and requires a rower to get all three across a stream safely: left to themselves, the wolf would automatically eat the goat, the goat the cabbages. 475.36-476.1: “the bugle dianablowing.” Diana’s horn: as a huntress, Diana is sometimes represented with a hunting horn. The phrase can also refer to the moon in crescent. 476.1-2: “the mockingbird whose word is misfortune:” mockingbirds imitate birdsongs of other birds – here of the cuckoo, signaling cuckoldry: “Cuckoo! Cuckoo! O word of fear to husband’s ear!” (Partially quoted in “Scylla and Charbydis”) 476.2: “down the wind:” these sounds (see previous note) are heard downwind. 476.3-4: “The proto was traipsing…Mathew Walker:” “traipsing” as a languid kind of walking, hence Matthew as “Walker.” As prefix, “proto” means first or forward, and, in order and authority, Matthew usually leads the four. “Proto” may also echo Protestant – Matthew is from Ulster. (In FW as elsewhere, the name can be spelled with either one or two t’s, although usually the latter.) 476.3-4: “Mathew Walker, godson’s goddestfar:” this and some of the rest of the paragraph (and other passages to follow) pretty clearly invites comparisons with the magi worshipping the baby Jesus, the newborn God’s son. Christiani’s translation of “goddestfar” include Godfather - not that far from describing the theological role taken by the magi in relation to Jesus. (All in all, the Shaun/Yawn sequence of III.3 may be the most overdetermined of FW; any reader trying to fix Yawn within one single frame of reference will be up against it. By what mathematical legerdemain, for instance, do the four gospellers become the three magi?) 476.5: “perch:” unit of measurement, but also, in context, probably fish 476.6: “Asnoch:” as McHugh notes at 474.20, Uisneach is supposed to be the geographical center of Ireland. 476.6-7: “how and ever:” echoes Irish expression “howsomever” (compare 624.35), meaning, approximately, however 476.7: “he proxtended:” because, at the moment, “deputising” (.4), he’s acting on behalf of, as “prox”y for, all four 476.10: “they set:” as a verb, “set” can be either present or past tense, and here it serves as pivot to a rare present-tense sequence: “they…nod, bend, bow, and curtsey” (.10-11); at .14 (“they made”) things will be back to past tense. 476.12-3: “travelling court on its findings circuiting:” travelling courts were “circuit” courts. Also, “court” as in “court cards” (appears in “Lotus Eaters”) – king, queen, jack. For Tarot cards, there are four: king, queen, knight, page. Compare “odd trick of the pack” at .17. 476.11-2: “their broadawake prober’s hats:” as McHugh notes, a “wideawake hat” has an exceptionally broad brim. So did the “Boer’s hat,” which at one time could have signalled hostility toward England during the Boer War. In “Circe,” when Stephen is accused of being a “proBoer” by a drunken English soldier, it is probably because of his broad-brimmed hat. 476.14: “stenoggers:” elided “graph” is probably imitative: stenographers write either in shorthand or with contracted versions of the original words. 476.14-5: “psychomorers:” sycamores – always or almost always go with FW’s four old men 476.17: “the odd trick of the pack, trump:” the joker. In euchre, it counts as the highest trump. 476.20-2: “amengst the poppies and, I can tell you something more than that, drear writer, profoundly as you may bedeave to it, he was oscasleep asleep:” Matthew as Mesmer has put him to sleep – hence the bed of poppies. Starting at 496.2, Oscar (“oscasleep”) Wilde will emerge as one the main presences buried within Yawn. 476.23: “unctuous:” as in Extreme Unction, applied to the dying. (At first, the four wonder whether Yawn is dead.) 476.24-5: “coaching his preferred constellations in faith and doctrine:” “constellations:” also congregations. (A constellation is a selective congregation of stars; see next entry.) The pope is the supreme authority on matters of faith and doctrine; see .30 and note. 476.25-8: “Matt…Hossaleen:” three of the four gospellers here seem matched with their usual symbols: Matthew, as angel, in his “starmenagerie,” Mark as (“Lyons”) lion, Luke as (“Metcalfe”) calf, of an ox. But (“mack…Jonny”) Johnny MacDougal? There ought to be an eagle in there somewhere, but your annotator can’t find it. Instead, as “Jonny na Hossaleen” (see McHugh), John is apparently fused with the ass that often accompanies him. Again, these are the “usual” symbols. In other versions, Matthew can be the lion, Luke a manservant, etc. The apostle John is the non-Synoptic one of the four, and John/Johnny typically lags behind the other three. 476.25-6: “starmenagerie:” because of all the animals it includes, the Zodiac (along with other constellations) could fairly be called a star-menagerie. The perspective is of water reflecting the night sky, with its constellations. 476.30: “fuming censor:” another address to the reader, like “drear writer” (.21), dear dreary reader/writer: as readers we both accept and reject (censor) what we encounter on the written page; in the latter case, we may, like some readers of Joyce, be indignant – fuming – at what we choose or pretend not to recognize, not to mention all the stuff we really just don’t get. Also, as “censer,” another allusion to church services and practice – Confirmation at .24-5, Last Rites at .23. (Here, I would also suggest adding the burial of one pope and installation of another.) Also, allusion to Keats’ “fume of poppies” in “Ode to Autumn” (compare .20) – the thurifer’s censer is burning opium along with, or in place of, incense. Also, opiate of the masses 476.31-5: “cooched…curchycurchy:” coochy-coochy, curchy-curchy: adult imitation baby-talk, to go with the “tops or kites or hoops or marbles,” children’s games to play with the “wee bairn” (477.3) the four old men are dotingly “gawking on.” This approach will soon change. 476.32: “question time:” in the House of Commons 476.33: “the map of the souls’ groupography rose in relief:” a relief map (compare 595.3-4 and note) is three-dimensional, either using shadings to indicate relative heights and depths, or with the surface augmented and dented in an approximation of the ground’s contour. “Groupography” incorporates “geography” and “group” – the latter because the translucent water also reflects the four, looking down, and seeing themselves and Jaun at the same time activates adjustment to a stereoscopic perspective. Thus (see 475.4-5 and note), Shaun has now gone from square to cube, from two-dimensional to three-dimensional. 476.34: “quarterings:” four divisions on a heraldic field 476.34: “tops:” spinning tops 476.36: “softnoising:” e.g., “Hush!” 477.1-2: “And it is what they began to say to him tetrahedrally then, the masters, what way was he:” heavily Irished English, approaching parody. Brendan O Hehir revises as: “And what they began to say to him was…how was he.” 477.1: “tetrahedrally:” a “tetramorph” is a representation of the four evangelists as figures in four quarters of a picture in one frame: compare the four as “quartermasters” (.13). The Book of Kells includes a highly stylized example. A tetrahedron is pyramid-shaped. 477.4: "Yerra:" 399.9 has established this as a Munster word. 477.4: “my leader:” given that Matthew has just stretched out his hand to exert hypnotic influence over Yawn (and the others), I think it pertinent that the German equivalent would be “mein führer.” 477.10: “outathat:” “out of that:” Irish expression for wish that someone would move or leave – here, as the four separate to spread out a net between them 477.14-7: “kid…Chirpy…hospices…chap:” as for 476.25-8, some but not all the items here seem to match the Evangelical symbols. “Chirpy” would be John the eagle; “chap,” as man, Mark. With some stretching, “kid” might pass as the goat equivalent of the Luke who at 476.26 was apparently the (usually ox) “-calf-.” But “hospices?” Your annotator cannot make it into a lion or cub or anything like. 477.18: “in the back of their mind’s ear:” instead of “mind’s eye:” recognizing and incorporating echoes and overtones, however faint. A faculty useful when reading FW in general, and nowhere moreso than in this chapter, with its overplus of what I am calling “responses” (see .32 and note) to the garbled or misheard words of others 477.20: “fine…nansen nets:” nainsook is finespun cotton, or clothes made from the material; in “Nausicaa” Gerty has “nainsook knickers.” “Fine” or not, probably not the right stuff for fishing nets 477.20: “nets:” crisscrossing light-lines from sky reflected on surface, as in a David Hockney swimming pool; compare “meshing” (.23). From Joyce’s poem “Alone:” The moon’s greygolden meshes make / All night a veil.” 477.21: “thurrible mystagogue:” On FW’s last page ALP will cry out, “Save me from those therrble prongs!” – probably, I suggest, because thuribles are or were standard features of a funeral mass. III.3 is a wake as well as a birth. Not clear to me why Mark would be the “mystagogue:” John is usually considered to be the most mystical of the four. 477.22: “his crucifer’s cauda:” the crucifer (here, Johnny) carries the cross in a church procession – usually leading, but sometimes the last in line. Along with the three magi with their gifts (see McHugh), Johnny with the cross rounds out the pack of four. His “cauda” (again, see McHugh) is his donkey, with the cross on its back. 477.23: “backslibris:” another address to the reader, inflected by “ex libris” 477.23: “slipping beauty:” another address to the reader, who is nodding off 477.23-6: “meshing that way, when he rose to it, with the planckton at play about him, the quivers of scaly silver and their clutches of chromes of the highly lucid spanishing gold:” compare “Proteus:” ”Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine. A quiver of minnows, fat of a spongy titbit, flash through the slits of his buttoned trouserfly…Hauled stark over the gunwale he breathes upward the stench of his green grave, his leprous nosehole snoring to the sun.” 477.24: “meshing:” again, as in .20: seen through the crisscrossing light reflections on the surface. Same for “mazing” (.27) 477.24: “when he rose to it:” as in “rose to the bait:” Yaun will wind up (525.19-32) as a fish (or eel) being hooked. 477.25-6: “planckton at play about him, the quivers of scaly silver and their clutches of chromes of the highly lucid spanishing gold:” reflection of starlight on water surface. (Oxford editors* change “quivers” to “quavers,” which would emphasize the waviness of the overall effect.) Also, “Spanish gold,” from conquistador days, was synonymous with gold at its finest, and – always, among other things - the four are (see McHugh) treasure-seeking divers, hoping to salvage silver and gold from a submerged Spanish galleon. “Clutches” as in clutch bag. Silver is “scaly” because reflected off the silvery scales of fish. “Spanishing” echoes vanishing: everything in this sequence is a matter of Now you see (or hear) it, now you don’t – again, of quivering/quavering/wavering/wavy sensations. *Incidental note: According to the Oxford editors’ tally of “Selected Variants,” III.3 has, of all FW’s chapters, both the highest number and the highest percentage of what might be called either textual errors or, simply, passages in dispute. Certainly, in my own run-through, it has occasioned, by far, more suggested textual changes, as signaled by standard phrases such “Oxford editors suggest” or “Oxford editors insert,” than any of the others, for instance more than twice as many as for of II.3, a chapter almost as long. It is also the least cohesive chapter of FW. III.3 begins as a recognizable extension of its predecessor, III.2, and moves on to a frantic cacophony of sometimes barely distinguishable voices, from out of which, like Alexander hacking apart the Gordian knot, HCE emerges with FW’s longest and most emphatic monologue. These are three different things, loosely conjoined. According to Jean-Michel Rabaté (“The Fourfold Root of Yawn’s Unreason: Chapter III.3,” Luca Crispi and Sam Slote, Editors, How Joyce Wrote Finnegans Wake: A Chapter-by-Chapter Genetic Guide (Madison, Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press, 2008), 384-409), this disjunctiveness may have to do with the circumstances of its composition. Whether it also accords with the author’s overall plan for the book, whether it constitutes the pivotal point, corresponding to Act IV in one of Shakespeare’s plays, where things break down for good, chaos reigns for a spell, and a new order begins to build, is probably an unanswerable question, but be it noted that up until 532.6, when HCE’s monologue takes over, one of its major subjects is how hard it is to get matters settled once and for all, how difficult-to-impossible it can be to understand anything or, especially, anybody. On this subject, please see my note to .32, below. In a number of ways, things not adding up is a large part of what III.3 is about. 477.28: “thripthongue:” Hamlet: “speak it trippingly on the tongue.” 477.28: “his blurbeous lips:” being underwater, he is burbling. 477.29: “moor:” as McHugh notes, the song to follow (.33) is by Thomas Moore. In fact, it is from the collection commonly called “Moore’s Melodies,” as echoed in “melding mellifond” (.30). 477.30: “melding mellifond indo his mouth:” expression: “Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth” – used of a sweet-talker. “Melding mellifond” twice includes Latin mel, honey. 477.31: “Y?:” first, the beginning of “Yawn.” Second, as McHugh notes, pronounced as hard Y, “Why?” – why are you here, asking me these questions? Third, pronounced as soft Y, a call for Issy/Iseult. Yawn is, among other things, Tristan, calling out for his Iseult, a.k.a. “Ysold” (113.19); his quest, beginning here, will reach a crescendo on page 500. (As McHugh notes, Swift’s Stella is another prominent object of desire.) 477.32: “Before You!:” “Y” comes before “U” in “you.” Perhaps also a reversal of the polite “after you:” T.S. Eliot remarked that he’d never succeeded in getting through a door after Joyce. This is probably the first example of a major feature of III.3: language being misheard and misinterpreted in exchanges of dialogue. (Compare, for instance, the “Throwaway” story of Ulysses.) For the rest of the exchanges between Yawn and his interrogators, I will be noting some but by no means all of these miscommunications, designating them as underlined “response”s – that is, instances where Yawn has answered according to his misunderstanding of a word or phrase in a question addressed to him or spoken in his presence. (Influence or not, to my knowledge the closest approximation outside of Joyce is Love’s Labour’s Lost.) Although such misprisions are a recurring feature of FW as a whole, for instance in the trial scenes of I.3 and I.4, III.3 definitely has the highest concentration for the most extended stretch – essentially, from 447.31 to 532.5. 477.33: “Ecko!:” Ecce Homo: portrait of Jesus by Elijah Garcia Martinez. Joyce wrote an essay on it. Pilate’s words, referring to the scourged Christ. A frequent subject in religious art. Compare 480.14-5. Also, identified by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 2022) as a bakelite "Ekco" radio model of the 1930's. The sense that the listeners are tuning in ("Now, to come nearer zone" (478.6) would seem to confirm. 477.34: “lions’ odor?:” perhaps law and order. American spelling of “odor”/”odour” is notable. 477.35: “Friends!:” that is, Relax! We are friends, not enemies 477.35: “yu:” McHugh notes that this is an “Ulster pronunciation of “you.” (Also, “yur” for “your.”) Throughout III.3, it seems to be a signature for Matthew, whose questions are typically the harshest and most percussive. (Compare the opening of “Counterparts:” [Mr Alleyne’s] furious voice called out in a piercing north of Ireland accent” - as it happens, Alleyne’s relatively small share of the story’s dialogue contains over half its “you”s and “your”s – and the “sharp Ulster voice” that offends Stephen in Portrait, chapter five.) With one exception (623.9), all FW’s “yu”s and “yur”s occur in the dialogue passages of III.3. (In some cases, the same speaker will use “yu”/”yur” and “you”/”your.”) Identifying the speakers by their accents is tricky – sometimes fairly easy, often not. Matthew is usually bossy. Luke, from the region of the Blarney Stone, can be exceptionally talkative in a sloothery way. (John Kelleher, deeply informed on these matters, once told me that Corkonians from Munster had a reputation for being “cute.”) Coming from the west, John is provincial and the most stage-Irish of the four. For me, Luke, from Dublin, is the most difficult to pin down. Presumably, as the urban opposite to John’s Connacht, he should be the cosmopolitan one, and perhaps that would help account for his accent’s being the least identifiably regional. In any case, a native speaker, not your annotator, would obviously be the best guide on these matters. The truly excellent FW reading recorded by Barry McGovern, with Marcella Riordan as ALP, available through Amazon and Audible Books (this is an unsolicited endorsement), succeeds in making the four oldsters distinguishable by their accents. 477.36: “orangery:” Yawn is the speaker, answering Matthew’s request to identify his “historical grouns,” grounds. Compare the “fragments of orangepeel, the last remains of an outdoor meal” (110.29-30) found in an “orangeflavoured mudmound” (111.34) – the site of FW’s many excavations, including this one. It is, among of course other things, the remnants of a picnic, which included oranges. In FW’s last pages, ALP recalls/reenacts a picnic trip to Howth, favorite picnic locations for John Stanislaus Joyce and family - as well, of course, for the Blooms. 478.1: “orangery:” origin, the historical grounds called for – but also one of the few responses where the speaker is, apparently, heard correctly. (McHugh has the speaker here as Mark; your annotator inclines toward Matthew, an Orangeman from Ulster.) 478.3: “Throsends:” taking “letters” (.2) in the epistolary sense, he recalls the thousands (probably an exaggeration) of letters exchanged between himself and “Y.” Also, Oxford editors change to “Thorsends.” I can find no sign of Thor or thunder in the vicinity, but two lines later, while magnifying the thousands into “Millions,” Yawn will (apparently) be referring to the same letters as “godsends” (.5), and at 269.17 we were informed that “Every letter is a godsend,” the gods in question including Zeus, Thor’s thundering counterpart. 478.5: “For godsends:” Godsends, of course, and also For God’s sake! - but also compare “godsons’” (476.3-4). 478.6: “zone:” a radio station’s broadcasting area; as such the term was in use among amateur radio operators. 478.7: “this maggers:” in some versions, the letter begins with a variant of either “Majesty” or “Dear Majesty.” Oxford editors italicize “maggers.” 478.8-16: “I am told…hopenhaven:” compare Richard Chevinix Trench, On the Study of Words, p. 29: “Thus I have read of a tribe in New Holland, which has no word to signify God, but has a word to designate a process by which an unborn child is destroyed in the bosom of the mother.” Reflects a period of linguistic study when a given group’s range of vocabulary was held to be a map of its priorities. The Eskimos, supposedly with fourteen different words for “snow,” was the standard example. For both Trench and the FW inquisitor, the main significance is moral. In the case of the latter, the tribe in question has plenty of words for “monarch” but nothing corresponding to “majesty.” This absence is taken as a sign of historic and moral underdevelopment. Compare .10-11 and note, and see 123.1-2 and note: “Majesty,” in the Latin of the Roman Empire, could convey godliness as well as authority. 478.9-10: “six hundred and six…malherbal Magis…wand:” language of black magic. “606” is an alternate version of “666.” 478.9: “ragwords:” compare ALP on the subject of her letter: “Rags!” (619.19) – as in, rag paper. 478.10: “wald man rimes alpman:” wild man goes with (“alp-“) mountain man. Mountain dwellers, highlanders for instance, are proverbially untamable. 478.10: “rimes…resin:” expression: without rhyme or reason 478.10-11: “there is resin in all roots for monarch:” a justification of – reason for - hereditary monarchy 478.10-1: “resin in all roots:” resin comes from trees. It is also the main ingredient of (“torpentine” (.13)) turpentine. 478.13: “nor no rheda rhoda or torpentine path:” in addition to (McHugh) Rome’s Rhaetian Road, probably also royal road, contrasted with (Latin torquēre, to twist) twisted or twisty path. Again (compare .8-16 and note) this is an anthropologist’s tut-tutting about the backward aborigines under study: unlike Rome, famous for its roads, you guys don’t even have decent ruts. 478.19: “How? C’est mal prononsable, tartagliano, perfrances. Vous n’avez d’o dans votre boche provenciale, mousoo:” response: misled by “Frankly” (.13) and perhaps also mishearing “messio” (.13) as “Monsieur” or “Messieurs,” Yawn has taken the speaker’s Latin (.13-4) as the words of someone trying, stutteringly, to speak French, and doing it badly, presumably because the speaker’s provincial idiom has left him with an unacceptably pronounced French “o.” (The questioner’s last word, “intelligow,” ended with an “o” sound.) Still, he replies in French that is at least equally fractured (.19-22). For the second sentence, Oxford editors have “Vous n’avez d’O dong votre bousch provenciale, monsoo” – making the French even worse. As becomes clear at .26, Yawn during this sequence is, or is channeling, Saint Patrick, who grew up on the western fringes of the Roman Empire as it was collapsing, and whose peregrinations, voluntary and otherwise, made him familiar with Latin, French, Gaelic, and early English, although not necessarily fluent in any: the exchange here indicates maladroitness in two languages at once. Patrick’s autobiographical Confessio is written in what is generally taken to be amateurish Latin, and his comparison of the shamrock to the Trinity was of, of course, non-verbal. On his FW showing, he was better off keeping things that way. 478.19: “tartagliano:” response to interrogator’s “tartallaght” (.12) 478.21: “Moy jay trouvay la clee dang les champs:” more sub-par French (here, the Irish equivalent of Franglais), this time, again, as Saint Patrick, who (versions vary) spent time in France before going to Ireland and finding the shamrock Trinity in the (“champs”) field. See next entry. N.B.: Oxford editors change “champs” to “chants.” This makes sense in its own terms – they have been discussing problems of understanding arising from translation and pronunciation, for instance speaking words as opposed to chanting them, and chanting, being musical, has a (“clee”) key – but given the context, an overtone of “champs” would seem to remain in play. After all, Patrick really did find the key to his faith in the field. 478.22: “poddy:” Paddy, an affectionate name for Saint Patrick, a (usually) not-affectionate term for an Irishman 478.24: “jambs…messiah:” responses to “champs”/”chants” (see note to .21) and “mousoo” (.21, .20) 478.25: “cloover…trefling:” Patrick’s shamrock (see .21 and note) is clover, and a trefoil. Again, he found it in the field and adopted it as the symbol of his faith, which was clever of him. 478.25: “A true’s to:” a truce to – i.e., enough of that. Occurs in “Oxen of the Sun” 478.26: “Trinathan partnick dieudonnay:” not exactly, as I’m using the term, a response, but definitely cued by talk of the shamrock’s Trinity. As McHugh notes, the three main components are Swift, Patrick, and Tristan, three Irishmen mashed together and redistributed, trinitarily. 478.27: “Typette, my tactile O!:” with “tactile O” read as (McHugh) “dactylo,” this reads as a double (“tactile”) dactyl. 478.30: “sohohold!:” a stammered “so old.” Oxford editors replace with “sohohohold.” 478.32: “What are yu shevering about,…like a houn:” for “houn,” McHugh has “hound;” Helmut Bonheim has German Huhn, chicken. Your annotator sides with the latter – to wit, Biddy, the “original hen,” the “iceclad shiverer” who first found the letter (110.22-4). See 479.33 and note. 478.32: “doraphobian:” McHugh translates as someone with “dread of touching;” Brendan O Hehir as someone with “fear of gifts.” Again, I side more with the latter. As magi, the questioners are bringers of gifts. 478.32-3: “Or do yu want yur primafairy schoolmam?:” sarcastic: does the big baby want his mama? “Primafairy:” pinafore, a garment worn by children. “Schoolmam:” schoolmarm. Again, the “yu” is a Matthew word. 478.36: “I know that place better than anyone:” the cue here is “padredges” (.34), which Johnny mishears as “partridges,” a game bird like “greyleg,” “duck,” and “plover” (.35-6), therefore for hunting. Coming from the west, Johnny is the outdoorsy one of the four. Foclut (“fogloot” (.34)) is in Connacht. 479.1: “the fourth day:” depending on whether you count from Sunday, Monday, or Good Friday, either Wednesday, Thursday, or Monday 479.3: “they:” the hunting dogs 479.4-5: “Tortoiseshell for a guineagould:” again, compare “Oxen of the Sun” term for extreme odds: “Guinea to a goosegog.” Probably pertinent that, as Stephen recalls in “Nestor,” shells have sometimes been used for money. Also, “Guinea Gold” was a popular brand of cigarette; compare 179.34, 325.26. 479.5: “Burb! Burb! Burb!:” the sound of the hunting dogs. Compare the harriers of “Circe:” “Bulbul! Burblblburblbl!” See next entry. 479.6: “Tucurlugh:” “cur” echoes the hunting dogs; “Lugh” is the Gaelic god of light. 479.9: “zoedone of the zephyros:” ozone, blown in by the zephyrs, winds. Compare Simon Dedalus in Portrait, chapter one: “We got a good breath of ozone round the Head today.” 479.10: “thass withumpronouceable tail:” Oxford editors have “withunpronounceable.” A long shot, here. The expression “Irish is tied to a donkey’s tail” was used to justify not teaching Gaelic to children, the point being that it would be a ticket to rural poverty; the link may be that for native English speakers, Gaelic is indeed (for instance, “Dun Laughaire”) often unpronounceable. 479.12: “the Anchor on the Mountain:” probably the name of a pub. Popular pub names in the British Isles include “Anchor and Crown,” “Anchor and Horseshoes,” etc. 479.13: “Pat:” response to “padredges” (478.34) 479.14: “Dood and I dood:” response to “Polldoody” (.6). “I dood” for “I did:” in America of the time, would signify a bumpkin. 479.14-5: “Whydoyoucallme?:” whatchamaycallit. Response to “Whateveryournameis?” (.13) 479.15: “flingamejig:” thingamajig. Goes, obviously, with (see previous entry) whatchamaycallit. 479.15: “twolves:” either two or twelve wolves 479.16: “Turcafiera:” probably a response to “Tucurlugh” (.6). If so, an instance (there are others) of one of the questioners answering one of the other questioners as if the latter were Yawn – a case of either real or surmised ventriloquy. Compare 480.25: “You took the words out of my mouth.” 479.18: “bleather:” breather, blather 479.19: “turnstone:” turnpike milestone 479.20: “you invocate austers for the trailing of vixens:” you advocate oysters for fox-hunting. Probably nonsense on its own terms, this is a misprision - a response - of Yawn’s excited talk about “austers” (.6) while reminiscing about hunting (478.35-479.6). Although Yawn’s memory was, at least initially, of hunting game birds, his rambling on about coursing dogs “straining at the leash” and barking “Burb! Burb! Burb!” (.4-5) apparently changed the venue, at least in Mark’s hearing, to a fox hunt. Again, compare the fox hunt in “Circe:” “(…the beagle’s call, giving tongue) Bulbul! Burblburlblbl!” 479.21-2: “send a cormorant around this blue lagoon:” cormorants are impressive fishers. They hover, buckle (with thanks to G. M. Hopkins), dive, and after about thirty seconds, resurface, invariably with a fish in their beak. 479.22: “You told my larned friend rather previously, a moment since, about this mound or barrow:” at 477.36. The learned friend was Matthew. 479.25-6: “burialbattell, the boat:” At Gokstad and Oseberg, Viking boats had been discovered buried in barrows. 479.26: “millions:” recalls 478.5. 479.29-33: “that fourmaster barquentine, Webster says, our ship that ne’re returned. The Frenchman, I say, was an orangeboat. He is a boat. You see him. The both how you see is they. Draken af Danemork! Sacked it or ate it? What! Hennu! Spake ab laut!:” the interview becomes an elementary language lesson, beginning with (McHugh) Webster’s Dictionary definition of an unusual word, “barquentine.” Oxford editors replace “What!” with “What?” Mark is commenting on Yawn’s “This same prehistoric barrow ‘tis, the orangery” (477.36) – probably, I suggest, sarcastically mimicking his words as well. 479.32: “Draken af Danemork!:” spelling here may be implying, not unreasonably, that Queen Elizabeth’s favorite pirate, Sir Francis Drake, was the English equivalent of the Viking marauders. Drake’s place in Irish history is not a happy one; he is remembered mainly for his 1575 massacre of the Irish, soldiers and civilians, on Rathlin Island. (Still, there is, or was, a monument to him in County Cork.) See See 480.1, “Her raven flag was out,” and McHugh annotation. 479.33: “Hennu!:” again, Yawn addressed as a hen – recalling Biddy, the original letter-unearther. 479.33: “Spake ab laut:” Speak up loud! Perhaps also “ablative” of the language lesson; also, as McHugh notes, German Ablaut, “vowel gradation” 479.34: “Couch, cortege, ringbarrow, dungcairn:” see McHugh. In succession, four stages of dying: sickbed, then funeral, then burial, then earth-to-earth (or dung) 479.34-480.5: “Couch…Folchu!:” Mark has loosened Yawn’s collar and ordered him to speak up. This declamatory response, with its seven exclamation marks, shows that he’s doing as told. 479.34: “Beseek ye the runes:” whether or not it panned out, looking for – seeking out - runes in a Viking barrow would make sense. Also, overtone of ruins: looking through the ruins is a lot of what FW is about. 479.35-6: “Allmaun away when you hear the ganghorn:” that is, All ashore that’s going ashore. Probable overtone of “Anchors aweigh” 479.36: “Nautsen. Ess Ess unearthed. O ess.:” see McHugh. Whether or not Nansen ever sent out an S.O.S., there were times when it certainly would have made sense. Also, the Viking boat’s (.32) dragon (serpentine) figurehead, hissing – perhaps Ireland’s exiled snakes, returning. Nansen was Norwegian, a descendent of Vikings. 480.1: “two lay payees:” French: tous les payees, all the countries 480.1: “Her raven flag was out:” in some versions of the story, one of Tristan’s two Iseults, jealous of the other, falsely tells him that the ship coming to save him has a black sail, signaling the death of the other Iseult. He gives up and dies. 480.1-2: “I trow pon good, jordan’s scaper, good’s barnet, and trustyman:” McHugh has the elements here, but just to sum up: this is a compressed, Anglo-Saxonily translated version of the Apostle’s Creed: “I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, His only Son our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit…” “Good’s barnet,” God bairn, is Jesus; “trustyman” (along with overtone of “Tristan”) is presumably the Holy Spirit, as, something like a trustee, the one of the three still around on earth, still delegating heavenly assets. 480.4: “Wolf of the sea:” compare 202.24: “a dynast of Leinster, a wolf of the sea,” and 325.21, “marelupe.” At least at 202.24, refers to Dermot MacMurrough, but it would have been a fair epithet for the other marauding mariners recalled so far, including the Vikings and Drake. 480.4-5: “Folchu! Folchu!:” another response to (“fogloot” (474.34)) Foclut, and see next entry. 480.6: “folklore’s:” response to “Folchu!” 480.7: “parent ship:” a ship which protects or serves as home base for other ships; today might be called “mother ship” 480.9: “bonofide for keeltappers:” bonafides were/are seriously dedicated drinkers; heeltaps are the least drinkable residue from the bottom of the bottle. As at 381-2, based on the first page of Joyce’s first FW draft, these guys are ready to drink up anything left. 480.10: “levantine ponenter:” McHugh annotates this as eastern and western winds respectively – that is, coming from the east and west. The former would have helped (“from Daneland sailed” (.10)) a Danish marauder sailing to Ireland; the latter would have helped him to sail back. 480.12: “korsets:” cursed. Also, response to “crusade” (.7). 480.12: “Magnus Spadebeard:” to some degree, derived from the previous exchange. Glasheen cites the disputed “Magis” and “Magis” of 478.9 and 478.17, and notes that “Magonus” was the name given to St. Patrick when he was studying for the priesthood in France. (Whether Patrick’s beard counts as a “spade beard” is debatable.) Again, a re-sorting of the Patrick and France strands. Yawn seems to be conflating his memory of Patrick’s arrival with the Viking invasions. Also, Magnus is of course a Roman surname. (The Romans, however, never occupied Ireland.) 480.12: “welsher perfyddye:” a take-off on “perfidious Albion” 480.13: “A destroyer in our port:” perhaps echoes Irish term for English, “Strangers in our house.” Again, fits the Vikings more than it does Patrick, unless Yawn is currently channeling some pre-Patrick Druid 480.13: “baling scoop:” after all, a sensible possession on any ocean vessel 480.14-5: “Ecce Hagios Chrisman!:” again (see 477.33 and note), reference to “Ecce Homo.” Continues the sequence of “crusade,” “korsets crosser” (.7, .12), then “Oh, Jeyses” and Futtfishy” (.16) 480.16: “Oh, Jeyses, fluid! Says the poisoned well!:” not sure, but this seems to be something along the order of “Pot calling the kettle black,” sarcastically rendered – a poisoned well complaining about poison. In any event, Johnny, the speaker, is not having any of Yawn’s professed piety. 480.16: “Jeyses…Futtfishy:” cued by “Ecce Homo Chrisman” (Jesus). Early Christians represented Jesus as a fish. Oxford editors insert an apostrophe after “Jeyses.” 480.18-9: “Dunlin and turnstone augur us where:” as McHugh notes, dunlin and turnstone are birds, as is the cormorant of .21-2. Augury is divination by observation of the flights of birds. 480.25: “pancercrucer:” probable allusion to Thomas Hardy’s poem “Panthera,” in which Panthera, the real father of Jesus, is present at the crucifixion. (A tradition derived from Origen’s Contra Celsum.) The theme returns in III.4, when one of the sons has a nightmare of his father as (“phanthares” (565.19)) phantom panther. 480.26: “dragon vicefather:” Viking, with dragon prow 480.26: “Hillcloud encompass us!:” may a fog conceal us from our pursuers! (Irish and other mythologies include stories of heroes being saved by such interventions.) Also, compare “cloud-crowned,” “cloud-topped,” for what Yeats calls a “vapour-turbaned steep.” 480.27: “you lived as milky at their lyceum:” answer to Yawn’s most recent words, about how a native laid “bare his breastpaps to give suck” (.13-4). Associative connection is probably via Romulus and Remus story; see .34-5 and note. 480.30: “dob dob:” response to “Dyb! Dyb!” (.28). Given context, the practice of bear-baiting – bears being torn apart by dogs – is probably pertinent; in the next line we learn that the “whole totem pack” is “after” him. The hunter has become the hunted. 480.30: “like old Booth’s:” compare “Eumaeus:” “lie like old boots.” 480.31: “cubs:” compare “pups” of .19. 480.31: “the whole totem pack:” not forgetting that the four inquisitors are also a pack of cards, with four suits. Four “vuk”s will follow immediately. 480.32: “Robinson’s shield:” the Robinson coat of arms features three bucks, here the prey of the barking hounds (or wolves). The family is from Ulster. 480.33: “Scents and gouspils:” because of the hunt, the exclamation “Saints and gospels!” is turned into the scents (of the prey) and (see McHugh) French for foxes. 480.33: “animal jangs:” perhaps from “jangle,” originally meaning jabber – endlessly silly talk. In this case, “jangs” is a noun, and the point is that there’s been too much silly talk having to do with animals. Reference is to Yawn’s “vuk vuk and vuk vuk” (.31-2). 480.34: “fingall:” Fine Gael: since 1933, a major Irish political party 480.34: “Here howl me wiseacre’s hat:” “Here, hold my hat:” a fairly common vernacular expression, signaling that the speaker is about to do something – often, get into a fight. Here, shows exasperation 480.34: “wiseacre’s hat:” wideawake hat, a hat with a wide brim and low crown 480.34-5: “till I die of the milkman’s lupus:” that is, for a very long time. Conjecture: an example of how anything can have to with animals if you want it to – although, as usual, there may be a method behind the mixedness: the sequence has been full of talk of animals in general and of wolves in particular, and Romulus and Remus were suckled on the milk of the she-wolf Luperca. In the earlier “you lived as milky at their lyceum, couard, while you learned, volp, volp, to howl yourself wolfwise” (.24-6) “lyceum” would promote a folk-etymological reading of “λνκέίος,” which derives from a Greek epithet for Apollo, as “λνκος,” Greek for wolf – hence, for instance “lycanthropy.” Yawn’s intense fear at this point – why he is called a “couard” (.27) - may have to do with the remembered perils of his birth and infancy: Romulus’ cruel uncle had meant to kill him and his brother. Also, “couard”/coward/cow by proximity to “milky” (.27) 481.1: “holystone!:” holystone was used on ships to, for instance, scour the decks. Also, probably, heliotrope: a weak echo, but in II.1 the heliotrope, a.k.a. bloodstone, is emphatically established as a helio/holy stone. Also, see .4. 481.2: “Courser, Recourser:” response to “fingall harriers” (480.34), before then the “coursing” hounds of the Connacht fox hunt (479.4) 481.4: “cataleptic:” compare Stephen’s “Proteus” “catalectic tetrameter of iambs marching.” Here the first line (.1) may qualify as catalectic trochaic pentameter: “Hail him / heathen, / heal him / holy /stone - !” I confess myself unequal to scanning for (McHugh) “trochaic dimeter brachycatalectic,” but given the emerging subject (the father) it may be pertinent that mithyphallic/ithyphallic chants accompanied the parading of images of erections. See next entry. 481.4: “Totem:” a totem is ithyphallic. 481.6: “Be fair, Chris!:” a pretty bloody impertinent way of addressing Jesus, particularly coming from a magus or gospeler. See .9 and note. 481.6: “ere bawds plied:” before prostitutes sold themselves 481.7: “Ona nonday I sleep:” response to “Mundi” (.6). Oxford editors have “On a” for “Ona.” It is this annotator’s belief that FW’s default date is Monday, March 21, 1938, extending to the morning of March 22, that the book’s sleeper is upstairs, in bed, throughout Monday (including (“nonday” = noonday = midday) the daylight hours), and that he awakes on the next morning, as recorded in Book IV. Also, III.3 takes place at “nonday” – night - and “sleep” is present tense: he’s still sleeping, or trying to. 481.8-9: “May…Fia! Fia!:” tradition that the name “Mafia” originated when a Sicilian mother, fearing for her daughter (“fia”), called out “Ma fia!” The story originated during the Sicilian Vespers. (See 21.18-9 and note.) 481.8: “fearfilled:” aside from (McHugh) fulfilled, filled with fear 481.9: “Befurcht christ!:” response to “Be fair, Chris!” (.6). (Also, probably an admonition: you should fear Christ, and not be so flippant about it: see first note to .6.) The “Sinflowed” (Noah’s flood, wiping out a sinful world) just cited (.9) is one good example of why. 481.10-19: “I have…Bap!:” resumes (mainly Latin) language lesson. See .16-9 and note. 481.10: “tristich:” triptych. (Also, McHugh cites definition, “three lines of verse,” which describes .1-3.) Probably for father, son, and holy ghost 481.11: “fui fui:” response to “Fia! Fia!” (.9). Also, compare “Fuitfiat” (As it was, let it be) of 613.14. Apart from the American expression “Phooey!,” “fui,” repeated, the internet informs me, is Portuguese for “I have been.” 481.12-5: “comming noun from the asphalt to the concrete, from the human historic brute, Finnsen Faynean, occeanyclived, to this same vulganized hillsir from yours, Mr “Tupling Toun of Morning de Heights:” A “hillsir” is a common noun, as opposed to the capitalized name “Finnsen Faynean.” Oxford editors replace “vulganized” with “vulcanized.” (Following through, the next line includes “lavast [or “lavas:” see first entry for .15] flow;” a “vulcanized hillsir” is presumably, among other things, an active volcano; the conceit seems to be that the city’s “asphalt” and “concrete,” temporarily fluid but now hardened into roads and civic structures, originated in a volcano’s flow of lava.) “Finnegan’s Wake” is an American song, originating in New York, with its asphalt and concrete, home of (“Morning de Heights”) Morningside Heights. Spelling of “occeanyclived” brings in Ossian, whose (supposed) writings heroicised Finn. As usual, the testimony is mined with qualifications - “brute,” for instance, or “Fenian” as “Faynean:” see second .13 note. 481.13: “Finnsen Faynean:” another permutation of “Fia! Fia!” and “fui fui.” 481.13: “Faynean:”“[Dolce] far niente:” It is sweet to do nothing. Occurs in “Lestrygonians” 481.14: “hillsir:” half-sir; a squireen, an Irishman with pretensions to gentility. Definitely a step down 481.14: Tupling Toun:” again, Tim Finnegan, who tippled and tumbled. The song goes, “Tim had a kind of a tippling way.” 481.14: “from yours:” British military expression “of ours” signifies a fellow member of one’s regiment. Here, the opposite, twice 481.15: “with his lavast flow and his rambling undergroands:” again, Oxford editors replace “lavast” with “lavas.” Given that the subject will soon emerge as “the farther…Ouer Tad” (.19-20), this reminds me of Joyce’s father, as described in John Wyse Jackson’s and Peter Costello’s John Stanislaus Joyce: a volcanic temper, a great, sometimes rambling, flow of talk, punctuated with groans and imprecations. 481.15: “rambling undergroands:” New York subway trains make rumbling noises audible to above-ground pedestrians; London subways, being much deeper underground, do not. This one arrives “Ad Horam” (.16), on time. 481.16-19: “Ad Horam, Romeo Rogers…ob…urb…differenciabus…locative:” tags from the Latin lesson. (McHugh cites “Romeo Rogers” as an allusion to Romulus and Remus, extending the ongoing raised-by-wolves thread: see 480.27, .34-5 and notes.) Oxford editors have a significantly different sequence for .17, changed from “county, and your sure ob, or by, with or from an urb” to “county by, with or from an urb, an your sure ob you know.” Still, I think, the same story: an unnecessarily confusing Latin lesson. See next entry. (“Ob urbe” would mean “from the city,” but ob can mean different things in different combinations.) 481.18: “differenciabus:” O Hehir has Latin differentiabus: for “to, for, or with, by, differences, diversities, species.” As flawed Latin for “differently” (.11) – the proper word would be aliter – part of the Latin lesson from hell. 481.19: “locative:” a Latin case. Not English, but the last four lines have included “Ad,” “in,” “ob,” “by,” “with,” “from,” “in,” and “in” again – all would go with locatives. 481.19: “Gun, the farther…Bap! Bap!:” sound of “Gun”fire. Also, Michael Gunn, proprietor of Dublin’s Gaiety Theatre, is an FW father figure. Compare next. 481.20-482.2: “- Ouer Tad…sanction!:” Yawn’s interrogator had just ordered him to come down from the abstract to the concrete, from the totem-like demigod Yawn remembered at .1-6 to a more (“vulganized”/”vulcanized”(.9)) vulgarized version of the father, for instance the Tim of “Finnegan’s Wake.” Yawn complies with down-to-earth language (almost none of his questioner’s Latin) and scandalous rumors. 481.20: “Tad:” Dad, the (“farther”) father just mentioned. A response to “farther” and “Bap! Bap!” (.19), “Bappy,” as at 277.18, a version of “Pappy” 481.20: “orbits:” obits – obituaries. Response to fragments (“ob,” “urb”) of “Urbi et Orbi” sounded at .17 481.21: “humeplace:” given obituaries (see previous entry), a “humeplace” would be where he was inhumed, buried. The seven possible locations (.21-2) are not, as with Homer (see McHugh), birthplaces, but instead deathplaces; the obituary writers have listed seven different locations. (HCE is frequently itemized as, or broken up into, sevens, and there are seven places listed here.) 481.21-2: “Smithwick, Rhonnda, Kaledon, Salem (Mass):” as Mink notes, this revises four Greek locations into Smethwick (in England), Rhonnda (in Wales), Caledonia (Scotland), and Salem, Mass (in America). Part of his (see note to 481.20-482.2) program of coming down, from the ancient classics to vulgar present-day reality 481.22: “Duthless:” Joyce’s lists often include at least one questionable entry. Mink and McHugh both list this as Athens, but the connection remains obscure. 481.23-4: “every at man like myself:” every man for himself. Also, given that this begins with a version of the Lord’s Prayer (“Ouer Tad, Hellig Babbau” etc. (.20)), perhaps “atman,” which occurs at 596.24 and is there glossed by McHugh as Blavatsky’s word for “the spiritual self recognized as God.” (In view of the preceding, it pleases your annotator to add that the Oxford editors recommend changing “at man” to “atman.”) 481.24: “Abrahamsk and Brookbear:” response to “brauchbarred in apabhramsa” (.18). Roughly, Yawn has been asked which of two possible types his father’s spirit would assume on returning to life. His answer: “he might in a sense be both” (.23) – but see .26 and note. 481.25: “bapka:” response to “Bap! Bap!” of .19 481.26: “Mushame!:” see .24 and note. Despite waffling, he’s afraid that the side of his father to show up would probably be the shameful (Shemian) one – the one (.26-31) with bastard offspring all over town. 481.27: “stepstones:” stepping stones 481.27-8: “stumbledown:” tumbledown 481.29-30: “off the dosshouse back of a racerider in his truetoflesh colours:” see .26 and note. A typical example of one of the bastards: impoverished (dosshouse), all too true-to-life, too flesh-and-blood, in the resemblance to his begetter. Also, he is in the horse-racing and betting line, and - given his address - not with much success. 481.30-1: “a racerider in his truetoflesh colours, either handicapped on her flat or barely repeating himself:” a couple having sex. See next three entries. 481.30: “truetoflesh colours:” that is, naked. “Barely” (.31) confirms. 481.30-1: “handicapped on her flat:” compare prostitute in “Circe,” on her funds: “Hardearned on the flat of my back.” 481.31: “repeating himself:” compare “Ithaca:” “the superincumbent posture of energetic human copulation and energetic piston and cylinder movement.” 481.31: “tiptip tim oldy:” tiptop Timothy. Perhaps because of the inquisition under way, Yawn seems to have acquired a touch of his father’s stutter. Old Timothy is old tippling Tim Finnegan, from .14. 481.32: “I go in fear of:” compare “fearfilled” (.8). 481.32: “Tommy Terracotta:” the right material for a former divinity who, it turns out, has feet of clay 481.32-3: “he could be all your and my das:” the uncertainty of fatherhood, a recurring Joyce theme, is (see .26 and note) especially pertinent in this case. 481.33-4: “the brodar…Ranelagh:” again, the lists referring to the father figure usually number seven. 481.35: “fué fué:” Yet another response to “Fia! Fia!” of .9 481.35: “Petries:” given context (see next entry), pastry 481.35: “violet ice:” a 1900 recipe for “violet ice” includes vanilla ice cream and extract of violet. 481.35: “I am yam:” as elsewhere in FW, Popeye (“I yam what I yam”) doubles with Jehovah (“I am that I am”) 482.1: “Dodgfather, Dodgson and Coo:” Father, Son, and Co, Company. (Also, as McHugh notes, “Coo” is the sound of the Holy Ghost as the dove of the Annunciation.) 482.3: “Breeze softly:” breathe (your words) softly; soft breeze. Response to “spiriduous” (.2), Spiritus, the divine breath of the Holy Spirit. 482.3: “Breeze softly. Aures are aureas:” see McHugh, and compare 158.7: “a long one in midias reeds.” (Midas’s ass’s ears were long.) 482.3: “Aures are aureas:” Given context (Speak softly), perhaps “Walls have ears.” 482.4: “Me das has oreils:” the (“Me das”) thread, which as McHugh notes incorporates both Midas’s ass’s ears and his golden touch, began with “my das” (481.33). Compare next entry. 482.4: “Piercey, piercey, piercey piercey!:” Answer to question (.3) What’s his name? It’s “Persse O’Reilly,” the hostile HCE double of I.2; compare second note to .5. Yawn has had the name suggested to him by the “Aures”-to-“oreils” word-association, combining the two best-known stories about King Midas, his (Latin aurum) touch of gold and his (Latin auris) ass’s ears. Also, after consummating with Nora, Joyce reported, “Elle est piercée,” here signaling a primal-scene memory carried forward with “Vulva! Vulva! Vulva! Vulva” (482.7)! 482.5: “White eyeluscious and muddyhorsebroth!:” Oxford editors have “and no hears! Muddyhorsebroth!” It is not clear to me whether “and no hears!” is to follow “eyeluscious” or replace it. If the former, (“hears”) ears, prompted by (“oreils. Piercey” (.4)), Midas’s ears plus Persse O’Reilly, with his pierced ears, are paired with eyes. 482.5: “muddyhorsebroth:” or – see previous – “Muddyhorsebroth.” There is such a thing as horsebroth, and it is muddy in consistency and color. 482.6: “chiseller:” chiseler: Dublin slang for child. Suggests the speaker may be Luke of Dublin, the most urban of the four, addressing John, the most rustic of the four, to whom the others often condescend 482.6: “Haltstille, Lucas and Dublinn!:” Hold still, Luke and Luke’s (Leinster) Dublin! “Haltstille:” with (McHugh) German Haltestelle, bus stop, an answer to the question just asked, “where do you get off, chiseller?” Answer: at either one of what Mink identifies as the termini of the “steam tram” that “ran from Dub[lin] to L[ucan] via C[hapelizod].” 482.9-15: “- Macdougal…weight!:” speaker? McHugh names John, and the sequence certainly includes a number of John cues. On the other hand, the (rather hectoring) address appears to be to John, not from him, and the speaker is claiming that he has just heard and recognized John’s voice, presumably in the previous interjection (.6-7), ordering Luke to be quiet. Again, the interrogators sometimes wind up talking to one another, either through Yawn or just in separate spats. I suggest that the speaker here is Luke. 482.9-10: “his onagrass that is, chuam and coughan!:” the donkey (on the grass), chewing (the grass) and coughing. (Do donkeys cough? The internet says yes, when sick, and at 555.12-3 the donkey – “cuddy,” “donk” – is arguably the one with the “dying boosy cough.”) FW’s donkey always goes with John. Like all the other place-names sounded in this sequence, Tuam (“chuam) and Cavan (“coughan”) come from John’s Connacht. 482.10-1: “stavrotides:” as “stone crosses,” stones approximating the shape of a cross, these are found in Brittany. As “stone crosses,” or “Celtic crosses” – high stone memorial crosses, frequently combined with a circle centered at the intersection, they would predominate in the Celtic fringe, e.g. Johnny’s Connacht. Brittany was also considered a Celtic stronghold. 482.11: “weslarias round your yokohahat:” fashionable lady’s hats of the time could be decorated with wisteria blossoms. “Wis” is probably changed to “wes” because Johnny comes from the west. 482.12: “O’mulanchonry plucher:” melancholy creature – the donkey. (McHugh notes that “plucher” is Anglo-Irish for a wheezy cough; see .9-10 and note.) 482.13: “curst of Ireland:” drink is often said to be the curse of Ireland. 482.13: “Glwlwd of the Mghtwg Grwpp:” as McHugh notes, “Glewlwyd of the mighty grasp.” Probably a joky bit of imitative form: the vowels have been squeezed out by that mighty grasp. In any case, certainly requires extra effort to pronounce 482.13: “Grwpp:” grippe. The passage suggests that Connacht gets the worst of Ireland’s wet weather, which is on John’s (“worst curst of Ireland” (.12-3)) wet and curst west coast. Parnell is supposed to have died as a result of having gotten soaked in Galway (in Connacht); in “The Dead,” Galway’s Michael Furey died similarly. 482.15: “pull your weight:” that is, contribute your fair share of effort to the cause; Johnny is typically the laggard, the last in line. The weight being pulled is also his recalcitrant donkey. 482.16-21: “Hooshin…unelgible:” hearkens back to 110.22-111.4, FW’s original excavation. There, Biddy the hen scrapes up the letter and, alternately or also, the Ardagh Chalice (also remnants of the picnic); Kevin takes over and takes credit. (Spelled “Keven” (.18); Oxford editors correct to “Kevin.”) Here, he hooshes/hushes/shoos away the (“hin” (.16)) hen (alternatively gander, guinea fowl, or French poule) that has just found (“dogumen number one”) document number one, one name for the letter. 482.16: “regional’s:” “regional channels” were local radio stations. 482.19: “Posthorn:” post horn: symbol of mail service; “Keven”/Kevin is a type of Shaun, the post. 482.19-20: “Guiney gagag:” another overtone of “Guinea to a goosegog” from “Oxen of the Sun.” Compare 182.12-3, 452,32, 479.4-5. Also, again (see McHugh for “gagag”), a Guinea hen 482.21: “an illegible downfumbed by an unelgible:” the letter is an illegible document being thumbed dumbly by the dumbfounded uneducable who has, dumbly, found it: hopelessly uncomprehending the hopelessly incomprehensible 482.25-6: “crying stinking fish:” to add to McHugh’s note: the man who would not be doing this would be the fish merchant, trying to attract, not repel, customers. 482.26: “stroke oar:” see McHugh. Like Matthew, the stroke oar gives the orders. 482.27: “your too farfar a cock of the north there:” Oxford editors have “farfast” for “farfar.” Brewer: “He’s too far north for me. Too canny, too cunning to be taken in; very hard in making a bargain.” Said of people of Yorkshire, of Scotland, and, here, of Ulster. Also, Alexander Gordon, 4th Duke of Gordon and leader of the Gordon Highlanders, was called the “cock of the north.” 482.28: “due south:” nautical heading. South-north equal-opposite counterpoint of .27-30 may have to do with the “stroke oar” (.26) fact that to row in one direction is to face in the other. 482.29-30: “I’m-free-Down-in-Easia:” free and easy 482.33-483.1: “point…counterpoint:” to me, the following two sentences (“What…altereffects” 482.34-483.1) sound like counterpoint, with its coinciding “altereffects.” 483.1: “altereffects:” aftereffects. (Probably obvious) 483.3: “posterwise:” response to “Posthorn” (482.19) 483.4: “the hand of Sameas:” delayed response or not, Yawn first brought up the subject of Shem at 481.26. 483.4: “Shan – Shim – Schung:” response to “yokohat” oriental strain of 482.11. See note to 483.15-485.7. 483.5: “counterfeit Kevin:” the writing of Shaun/Kevin’s document, it has just been insinuated, is the same as “the hand of Sameas,” Shem, FW’s resident forger/counterfeiter. Alternatively, the suspicion is that Yawn is Shem, counterfeiting Shaun/Yawn/Kevin. 483.7: “reverye:” compare Bloom’s “backward [that is, reverse] eye” in “Calypso.” “Revery” is alternative, usually American, spelling of “reverie.” 483.7: “between me and thee:” i.e. entre nous: scandal (.6) being exchanged between two gossipers 483.7-8: “He would preach to the two turkies and dipdip all the dindians:” Turks, as in Muslim heathens ready for conversion. Also, probable overtone of “darkies,” along with (American) (“dindians”) Indians, also up for conversion, including (“dipdip”/”tauftauf” (3.10)) baptism, which in some versions involves dipping the candidate’s forehead into the font. Problem: as McHugh notes, “dindians” = French dinde, turkey, which traditionally gets eaten during American Thanksgivings, originally celebrated with American Indians, who like the American “darkies” would end up with reason to regret their part in the American enterprise. Joyce enjoyed observing Thanksgiving with his American friends. (Note another holiday, “easter” (.10), coming up.) 483.9: “give gold tidings:” as preacher, he gave them the Gospels, the “good news.” 483.9-10: “tidings…neappearance:” can’t explain the logic, but “neap-” is probably in there because of “tidings” 483.9-10: “bonze age of anteproresurrectionism:” those following false beliefs (taught by bonzes, pagan priests) before the revelation of Christ’s resurrection 483.10-11: “to entrust their easter neappearance to Borsaiolini’s house of hatcraft:” Easter is traditionally a time for displays of fashion – especially of hats (Easter bonnets for women; for Joyce here (see McHugh) a Borsalino). For a spell, the preacher’s preaching seems to have turned into an advertising pitch for a hat shop – probably the “firm” of .11. 483.12: “reasonable hesitancy:” reasonable doubt, as in a trial 483.13: “fourpriest:” a mass officiated by four priests is a special occasion, usually for the funeral of some notable. 483.13: “redmass:” A Red Mass is held annually for members of the legal profession. Fits trial context 483.14: “post:” past. Compare “reverye” of .6. 483.14: “pard!:” old term for panther. (Appears in this sense in Ulysses.) Perhaps relevant that, in bestiaries, the panther symbolizes Jesus 483.15ff: “Fierappel…:” accused of being indistinguishable from his scapegrace brother, Yawn launches into a long self-defense during which among other things he will claim to have taken holy orders. At 487.21 an exasperated Luke will object that “Hood maketh not frere,” that it takes more than a habit to make a monk. Overall, this is certainly one of the most garbled stretches in FW. The word “chink” at 485.16, pejorative for Chinese, is a clue as to why: in “Circe,” lines 957-64, Bloom, under legal assault, launches into a semi-coherent chopsticks-and-chop-suey stage-Chinese monologue (“Li li pool lil chile,” etc.), and throughout FW similar patches signal panicky defensiveness and real or pretended Mongolism. The rhythm is staccato; the syntax is paratactic; the logic, when discernible, is free-associative. 483.15: “Fierappel putting years on me!:” You’re always making me out to be older than I am! Probably a response to the suggestion (.9) that he was around in the Bronze Age. Oxford editors have, instead: “Fierappel! Putting years on me!” “Fierappel”/Fireapeel, as McHugh notes the leopard of the Reynard cycle, is a response “Leap, pard” (.14)! 483.15-6: “This bolt in had be my worder:” would seem to make most sense if the bolt is a (barbed) arrow and “worder” echoes “warder,” in (OED) sense of truncheon or staff of authority. Also, a long shot here: The “redmass” of .13 evokes the (“Redspot” (582.31)) red spot of Jupiter the planet, which in both cases combines with Jupiter the god, here in his characteristic pose of wielding a “bolt” of lightning. Compare 14.19, where the “wordwright from the excelsissimost empyrean” is “bolt, in sum,” the lightning bolt that according to Vico first gave mankind its conception and fear of divinity. Compare 485.25. 483.16-7: “blarneying Marcantonio:” Mercutio, talkative character in Romeo and Juliet. Perhaps, by association, elided with Antonio, the merchant of Venice. “Blarneying:” Blarney Stone, in Munster, home of Mark, the previous speaker, who is now being addressed. Compare first note to .22. 483.17-8: “What cans such wretch to say to I or how have My to doom with him?:” What can such a wretch have to say to me, and what can I have to do with him? Second question is probably from the refrain of Blake’s “To Tirzah,” “Then what have I to do with thee?” based on the resurrected Jesus’s words to his mother. (Stephen alludes to them in Portrait, chapter five.) Also, reverses the sentiment, and perhaps echoes the words, of the popular Anglican hymn beginning “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound / That saved a wretch like me.” In general, versions of “wretch” and “wretched” have been words for Shem. 483.19-20: “hairytop on heeltipper:” recalls father of Book I, whose cap-a-pie (from Hamlet’s father, head-to-foot) appearance is reflected in his antagonist, the cad with the pipe. Again, Shaun and Shem often embody top half and bottom half, head to toe, respectively, of FW’s central male figure. Also, a pint, from the frothy head to the bottom dregs: see next entry. 483.19: “heeltipper:” heeltaps: lees – relating to the fact that Jacob (see McHugh) came second 483.19-20:” unwachsibles:” compare 201.15: “worshipful socks.” Also, unmentionables – underwear. Oxford editors change to “umwachsibles.” 483.20: “ikeson:” icon 483.21: leperd:” response to “Leap, pard!” (.14) 483.21: “ens:” reality. Term introduced by Aquinas. Compare 157.23. 483.21: “fifteen primes:” the fifteenth prime number is 47. “Prime” also means spring. 482.22: “Ya all:” common pronunciation of Youghal, a town in the Munster of Mark, who is being addressed 483.22: “trilustriously:” among other things, trustingly 483.24-5: “did I altermobile him to a flare insiding hogsfat:” the main frame of reference is culinary, but this also seems to have him either burning his brother at the stake (rendered down to fat) or boiling him in oil (also fat). One way of solving the Shem problem. “Alter:” auto, as in auto da fe. (Oxford editors insert “?” after “hogsfat.”) 483.25-6: “Been ike hins kindergardien?:” as McHugh notes, a version of “Am I my brother’s keeper?,” this is a guilty reaction to the interrogator’s questioning whether he acknowledges his saintly brother – e.g. “Now, have you reasonable hesitancy in your mind about him” (.13). 483.25: “kindergardien:” before (“real school” (.22-3)) German Realschule, they were in kindergarten together. 483.26-7: “I am sure offed habitand:” I am sure of inhabiting. Also, embedded “habit” begins Yawn’s claim to be a monk. Compare .31-2: “when I received the habit.” See next entry. 483.27: “meis enfins:” like a man of the cloth, he addresses the others as (McHugh) “my children.” 483.27-8: “the first mover…caused:” First Mover and First Cause are similar or identical terms for God as the beginning of everything. 483.29-30: “ayr, plage and watford:” elements (McHugh) are components of the world, “under[ed] heaven” (.28). (Oxford editors have “underedheaven.”) 483.32: “received the habit:” accepted the order’s garb when received into its community 483.32ff: “I received…” until about 484.10, this simultaneously, erratically, covers a postulant entering a religious order and a young man submitting to anal intercourse. He is “falling” down and “crouched low.” “Embracing a palegrim,” he has “circumcised [his] hairs,” like the Bloom of “Circe” who, in fantasy, was a “nice-looking Miriam when you clipped off your backgate hairs and lay swooning in the thing across the bed as Mrs Dandrade about to be violated” by various males. He has of course undressed, exposing his “culpads,” buttocks, to someone who from “patristic motives” was “entering humble down, dead thrue mean scatological past, making so smell partaking myself.” The two form a beast-with-two-backs “octopuds,” “tumbluponing” together. He is “owning [his] mansuetude,” meekness, “before him,” his “sexth best friend,” who is “delated to back” him. The experience resembles “toppling Humphrey hugging Nephew, old beggelaut.” As elsewhere, the frantic fragmentation signals something he doesn’t want to remember or confess to. Compare note to .35. 483.33-4: “circumcised my hair:” the subject of the predicate “circumcised” is probably (.27-8) “that father,” as cleric, not parent. (Probably: the syntax is about as bollixed as anywhere in FW.) Being tonsured by a superior in the order is a major ritual in the process of becoming ordained. Oxford editors have “circumcissed.” 483.34: “Oh laud:” aside from “Oh Lord,” an allusion to Archbishop Laud, in Anglicanism responsible for the kind of high-church practices under review 483.34: “and removed my clothes from patristic motives:” sounds like protesting too much. Of course he removed his clothes: he had to, in order to put on the habit of a monk. What other motives might there have been? In any event (see next entry), he seems to feel that there is something to feel guilty about. 483.35: “meas minimas culpads:” the standard term is “mea maxima culpa.” “Mea minima culpa” is rare, not part of Catholic ritual, and sometimes used sarcastically. Here, Yawn may be apologizing for the, if anything, small sin of undressing, before donning his new habit (.32). “Culpads” recalls Mulligan in “Scylla and Charybdis,” facetiously advising Stephen to get himself a “breechpad” as protection against buggery. (Cul: French for arse) 484.2: “tumbluponing:” tumbling on or upon: happening upon someone or something, by accident 484.2: “yous octopuds:” as McHugh says, four people with two legs, the four evangelicals being addressed. Also, see note to 483.32ff. 484.4: “prostratingwards:” the initiation ceremony includes prostration. 484.5: “my thrain tropps offering meye eyesalt:” salt tears, falling like rain drops from my eyes (for his sins, apparently in relation to (“eyesalt”) Iseult. Oxford editors have “thraintropps.” 484.5-6: “what I (the person whomin I now am) did not do:” “We have left undone those things which we ought to have done.” Still, having joined the order, he is not that same person anymore. 484.7: “sexth:” next, sex 484.9: “ersed:” as “erst,” archaic English for “formerly” 484.9: “ersed irredent:” an Erse (Irish) irredentist would be someone demanding that Ireland be given back by the British. 484.11-3: “you snub around enclosing your moving motion touching the other catachumens continuing say providing append of signature:” the addressee has been called a beggar (.9). (Given context, it’s probably pertinent that “touch” is Irish slang for having sex.) Here the gist is that, despite his pretended support in the past, he is sneaking and sniffing around “touching” (begging loans from) young men, perhaps offering to sign I.O.U.’s, and forming a party against Yawn on the grounds that Yawn is a stuck-up double-dealer, just pretending to be a real islander. In fact, he will be happy to celebrate Yawn’s deathday. The language has momentarily lapsed (or climbed) into legalese – moving a motion (in “Aeolus,” Lenehan uses the phrase, mock-officiously), “touching” in the sense of related to, etc. 484.14: “dirthdags:” deathday (occurs in “Hades”): the anniversary of someone’s death, perhaps also as the day the body was consigned to the soil, or dirt. Oxford editors have “dirthdies,” adding dying to the mix. Becoming a monk, he both leaves his former life and begins his new life with a new birthday. Also, dearth: monks take a vow of poverty. 484.15: “a mockbelief insulant, ending none meer hyber irish:” a list of contradictions here. Making believe and mocking belief, insolent islander, no more and (McHugh) henceforth, hyper Irish and an Irish hybrid. 484.15-6: “chunk your dimned chink:” “I like your cheek” (here, “damned cheek”) was a common sarcastic rebuke to those aspiring beyond their station. 484.16: “chink:” pejorative term for the Chinese. See next entry. 484.16: “avtokinatown:” Chinatown 484.17-8: “vespian:” thespian: a sarcastic comment on his attacker as “blabber” (.8). Vespasian: i.e. urinal. Either way, an insult 484.18-9: “I’ve my pockets full of you laycreated cardonals:” That is, I own you; I’ve got you all in my pocket. Compare 282.20-3, where Kev, a version of Shaun/Yawn, makes cardinals of his four fingers, fingers which have just been picking pockets. See next entry. 484.19: “laycreated cardonals:” McHugh identifies as “lay cardinals.” A lay cardinal is a layman, someone who has never been a priest, bishop, or any other member of the church hierarchy, given the title of cardinal by the pope. “Honorary cardinal” would seem to be a fair approximation, and cited examples – a Medici, a ten-year old, a political favorite – sound awfully dodgy, something like the equivalent of a knighted beer baron. The best known lay cardinal was the controversial, worldly Cardinal Mazarin. With one anomalous exception, lay cardinals have never been allowed a vote in Vatican Conclave. On the internet, one word that sometimes precedes the expression is “only.” Yawn’s attitude is one of lordly contempt. 484.19: “cardonals:” 1. ordinal numbers, like Shaun’s fingers; 2. cardinal numbers; 3. cardinals. 4. ordinal – an Anglican missal 484.20: “Improperial!:” the Good Friday Improperia (McHugh) are read as the reproachful words of Jesus, as God, to his betrayers. There follows a catalogue of the ungrateful acts of Yawn’s followers. 484.20: “Hekkites:” HCE. (Also, as (McHugh) Hittites, enemies of the Israelites 484.21-2: “I teachet you…the W.X.Y.Z. and P.Q.R.S.:” Saint Patrick brought the alphabet, here the Latin alphabet of the (S.P.Q.R – “P.Q.R.S.”) Romans, to Ireland. The Roman Empire itself never invaded Ireland, and had withdrawn from Britain at or about Patrick’s 432 A.D. arrival. 484.23: “legatine:” papal legates have power over all local church leaders. 484.23-4: “episcoping me altogether:” in rejecting the pope, the Anglican (Episcopal) Church became a church of bishops. (Bishops wear copes.) 484.25: “you have remembered my lapsus langways:” “Circe:” Stephen to Lynch:” “You remember fairly accurately all my errors, boasts, mistakes. How long shall I continue to close my eyes to disloyalty?” Saint Patrick had a never-revealed sin in his past. 484.27-8: “Mind of poison is. That time thing think! Honorific remembrance to spit humble makes:” a literal, word-for-dictionary-word, tone-deaf translation of, in this case, Japanese 484.29: “Aye vouchu to rumanescu:” I venture to remind you. 484.30: “Theophrastius:” Theophrastus followed Aristotle as leader of the Peripatetics (“peregrines” of .29). 484.31: “upper circle:” aside from highest of the cosmic spheres, the theatre seats next above the dress circle 484.32: “Prestopher Palumbus and Porvus Parrio:” combines Noah’s raven and dove with Christopher Columbus, the (translated) Christ-bearing Dove: Old Testament and New Testament paired. With P/K split (see McHugh), “Porvus Parrio” is, approximately, Latin for “Carrion Crow,” in “Circe” Stephen’s term for Catholic priests. 484.33-6: “Ho look at my jailbrand Exquovis and sequencias High marked on me fakesimilar in the foreign by Pappagallus and Pumpusmugnus: ahem! Anglicey: Eggs squawfish lean yoe nun feed marecurious:” certainly confusing, but he seems to be saying that as a prisoner he was branded with an inscription (in a foreign language, Latin: see McHugh) proclaiming that, in effect, he was indelibly depraved, that you wouldn’t be able to make this sow’s ear into a silk purse. (He is of course trying to make the opposite point – at 485.2-3 the inscription, he says, is not only a coat of arms but a king’s coat of arms - and failing as usual.) At times, the branding of prisoners with an initial or initials for the name of their crime has been commonplace. Oxford editors insert a comma after “Ho.” 484.34: “High:” I 484.36: “ahem! Anglicey: Eggs squawfish lean yoe nun feed marecurious:” another botched, literal-minded translation. Oxford editors replace “ahem!” with “aham!” – ham and eggs. 485.2: “morning coat:” article of fashion among gentlemen of the time 485.2: “tripenniferry:” again – see McHugh – a claim to noble, even royal, credentials, but the echo of “three-for-a-penny” undermines it. 485.3. “Sauer:” given .9 below, Tom Sawyer 485.4: “echo stay so!:” I (ego) say so! Again! Repeated in the next line: “Egoname.” 485.4: “eat or not eat body:” issue of the Real Presence in the Eucharist, along with a high church / low church debate over whether the service should include the Eucharist at all 485.5-6: “And, Mind, praisegad, is the first praisonal Egoname Yod heard boissboissy in Moy Bog’s domesday:” again, a claim to noble lineage, along the line of: My ancestors came over with William the Conqueror! My family name is the first listed in William’s Domesday Book! (And, of course, as King Edward VII, his name would lead any tabulation of precedence.) But, inconveniently, the historical fact is that names in the book were those not of the conquerors but the conquered. “Moy Bog” – my bog – shifts the scene to the twice-conquered Irish, and “Egoname” – agnomen: see 30.3 – tells us that his name, whatever it is, is unrelated to his original ancestry. 485.8: “Suck it yourself, sugarstick!:” clearly, a rude response to Yawn’s “Suck at!” (.7), which in turn, besides being (McHugh) St. Patrick’s birth name, was a typically mangled attempt at instructing his inquisitors, in German (“in alleman”), to (Bonheim) Suchet, search for, the (“first praisonal Egoname”) first surname in (“Moy Bog’s domesday”) this book of mine, Work in Progress/Finnegans Wake. (Depending on how you read it, the first such name was either “Eve” (3.1) or “Sir Tristram” (3.4), both of whom will show up during the continuing excavations.) The speaker – Luke - is out of patience with Yawn’s semi-coherent ramblings, and answers that he can just go and suck someone’s “sugarstick” – dick - perhaps, acrobatically, his own. Yawn’s testimony has supplied more than sufficient material (see 483.34, .35, and notes) for suspicions of rampant homosexuality, among other transgressions. 485.9: “sore toe:” in Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer, a “sore toe” is an object of fascination. 485.9-10: “taste your gaspy, hot and sour:” according to Google Books, the name “Hot and Sour Soup” did not make its way into English-language publications until the 1970’s. (Still, the dish itself had been around long before then, and there are a number of oriental allusions in the vicinity.) Less agreeably, part of a debased communion. Compare Bloom at his lowest, reduced to a drudge and ordered by Bella/Bello Cohen to “Drink me piping hot” from one of her “pisspots.” 485.9-10: “gaspy:” “gasper:” Edwardian slang for a high-tar cigarette. In Tom Sawyer, a character takes “two gasps” from a cigar. Also, response to “Gaspey” of .3. In context 485.10: “sour:” in the original transition publication, followed by “Bo ba bi bo bum!” Neither McHugh nor the Oxford editors include it as a variant; the James Joyce Digital Archive does. (As elsewhere, your annotator is noncommittal on genetic issues.) In any case, compare 251.18: “A bimbamb bum!” In A Wake Newslitter, Luigi Schenoni glosses this as “an Italian count out in children’s games.” Games or not, the context here is definitely childish, not to say bratty - specifically, the children (see .3 and .9 and notes) Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. 485.10: “Ichthyan:” response to “Itch dean” (.4). Also as “Ichtian,” a sarcastic comment on his pretensions to Godhood, by way of Jesus as Ichthos. Also, see second entry for .13. 485.10: “Gags be plebsed!:” a sarcastically distorted response to Yawn’s “praisegad” (.5) – God be praised!. Also, equal-oppositely, God as pleb, plebian 485.11: “between his voyous and her consinnantes:” a courtship exchange between a man and a woman. He: “Voyez-vous?” She consents, and sins. Note: reverses usual FW – in fact, Joycean – convention that consonants are male and vowels female, perhaps as commentary on Yawn’s garbled account of his origins. 485.11-2: “Thugg, Dirke and Hacker with Rose Lankester and Blanche Yorke!:” more mockery of Yawn’s mixed-up claims to blue-blood ancestry. Were your forebears Anglo-Saxons or Normans, run-of-the-mill Tom, Dick, and Harry or the noble dynasts of the War of the Roses, a bunch of common cutthroats (see next entry) or their high-toned - though to be sure equally murderous - betters? The combination of two females and three armed men recalls Book I’s scandal in the park – always a sin of the father, who will be mentioned at .17 as “old fellow,” Irish term for father, and as (“Hell’s Confucium and the Elements!”) HCE at .35. 485.11: “Dirke:” dirk: a ruffian’s (“Thugg”’s) weapon, along with another’s “hacker,” a sword or axe 485.13: “Oy soy:” as McHugh notes, a stage-English accent for “I say.” May be a sarcastic response to Yawn’s royal pretensions (.2-3). See next entry. 485.13: “are you sprakin sea Djoytsch?:” as (McHugh) are you speaking German?, another sarcastic response, this one to Yawn’s German “Itch dean” (.2-3). (Again, see McHugh.) Up until 1914, fluency in German signified culture – or, when affected, pretentiousness. After then, it would have been a source of embarrassment that King Edward VII’s motto of “Ich dien” (.3) testified to the royal family’s Germanic origins, enough that in 1917 its name was changed to (“Windsewer” (420.24)) Windsor. (Joyce makes sardonic use of this fact in “Cyclops,” which includes foreshadowings of the Great War, fought for king and country.) Here, an item in the accusations or suspicions leveled at Yawn 485.13: “Bleseyblasey:” as McHugh notes, yet another response, here to “boissboissy” (.6). Given context, probably also (sarcastic) blasé. 485.17: “thruppenny croucher:” response to “tripenniferry cresta” (.2), this time with the latent “three-penny” foregrounded. (As in The Threepenny Opera (as McHugh Notes, Polly Peachum, from that play and its successor, The Beggar’s Opera, appears at .20), the word connotes poverty, shabbiness.) A “croucher” is an abject forelock-tugger, someone forever kowtowing to authority figures – like a “twicer” (.24), a cringing low-life. Luke is countering Yawn’s “upper circle” pretensions (484.31) with a catalogue of his disreputable ancestors. 485.17: “old fellow:” again, a common Irish term for father 485.20: “Fat prize the bonafide peachumpidgeonlover:” What price the [noun]: indicates that something has been obtained at too high a price. (“Fat” rubs it in.) In both The Beggar’s Opera and The Threepenny Opera, Macheath’s marriage to Polly Peachum earns him a sentence to be hanged. (Can’t see how it fits, but a pigeon-lover is, usually, a fan of pigeon-racing. The “hohallo!” of .22 sounds a falconer’s call to his falcon – see “Circe,” Hamlet. ) Perhaps also a reference to the Peaches – Daddy Browning scandal of 64.22-65.23. 485.20-2: “eh, eh, eh,…I’ve Ivy…hohallo:” again (see .17 and note), the forebear being recalled here is the father, HCE, with his stutter, here making a phone call. (His signature is a capital E.) Perhaps a disreputable figure, certainly a clownish one; compare, in “Hades,” Bloom’s idea of a recording left by a deceased relative for family to remember him by: “Hellohellohello.” 485.23: “his boost friend:” response to 474.7-8: “my sexth best friend.” In American slang, a “booster” is a congenital optimist or promoter of some cause – here, a friend who sees only his best points. 485.23-4: “be shanghaied to him?:” be hanged to him – common expression of dismissal 485.24: “swaaber:” a swabber (or swab, or swabby): a lowly sailor, one who swabs the deck. Goes with “shanghaied” (.23-4) – to be captured on shore and forced into shipboard labor, probably of the most menial kind 485.24: “twicer:” crook 485.24-5: “twicer, trifoaled in Wanstable!:” foaled (born) in a stable – a play on Wellington’s sardonic remark (apocryphal: see 10.17-18 and note) that having been born in Ireland didn’t make him Irish any more than having been born in a stable would have made him a horse; compare “Willingdone, bornstable ghentleman” (10.17-8). Other notes add a touch of blasphemy: Jesus, the (“tri…Wan”) three-in-one God emblematized in Saint Patrick’s (“trifoaled”) trefoil/shamrock, was born in a barn, among farm animals; accordingly the two-three-one count probably refers to the Trinity. 485.25: “Loud’s curse:” compare 259.3 and 259.7, where “Loud” is the Lord, expressing himself loudly. According to Vico, humanity’s conception of God began with the sound of thunder. 485.26: “lubberintly:” labyrinthily – the labyrinth of the (“innereer’d” (.27)) inner ear. Also, by contrast with “swaaber,” a (land)-lubber. In general, “lubberly” behavior is clumsy, third-rate. 485.26: “nightmale:” nightmare, night mail (train), night males. For the third, compare 461.24-8, where Issy’s erotic nighttime extends from “the night’s foreign males” to sunup. 485.27: “drums and bones and hums in drones:” along with the labyrinth, the equipment and workings of the inner ear. As elsewhere in FW (see, e.g., 23.25-7 and note), the ear, with its “drums,” makes sounds as well as receiving them. (Categorically, all sensations in Joyce are interactive, projections as well as receptions.) 485.28: “Tsing tsing!:” Given “hung,” “twicer,” and the general tone, perhaps Sing Sing – familiar name for Ossining Prison, which practiced executions - before the 1891 introduction of the electric chair, by hanging 485.29: “Me no angly mo, me speakee Yellman’s lingas:” I’ll stop (trying to) speak English and speak Chinese (of the yellow man) instead. 485.29: “Yellman’s:” yelling man: response to Luke’s complaint about loud noises (.25-8) 485.30: “Me no pigey ludiments:” he won’t speak pidgin anymore. (But then, in the next line, “Me pigey…”) Combines with overtone of “Me no spikka,” conventional tag for foreigners saying they don’t speak, usually (“angly” (.29)) English. “Ludiments” for rudiments is more stage-Chinese. 485.31: “fella:” response to “old fellow” (.17) 485.31: “savvy:” slang for understand 485.33: “Lukie Walkie:” as Adaline Glasheen notes, all four of the inquisitors are called Walker at some point. The four old men are walkers: on their introduction, arriving on foot, they “hopped it up the mountainy molehill” (474.22). 485.33-4: "cowbelly maam belgame:" Digger Dialects: "belly belong me he think" is Papuan pidgin English for "I am of opinion that...but can give no solid reasons." 485.34: “boohoomeo:” boo-hoo – the sound of infantile crying; will be remembered as “sob story” (486.1). 485.35: “moohootch:” response to “cowbelly” (.33) and “boohoomeo” (.34) 485.36-486.1: “ponnippers!:” Nip(s): slang for Japanese; nippers: slang for children 486.6-7: “toone…vowelglide:” “toone,” pronounced as “two-one,” is probably the example here of a vowel-glide. 486.7: “hattrick:” response to “cawthrick” (.2) 486.8: “dragoman:” Yawn as interpreter and intermediary between questioners and the lower depths 486.9: “Mere man’s mime: God has jest:” Oxford editors have “Mere man is mime: God is jest.” In Pope’s “Essay on Man,” man is “the glory, jest, and riddle of the world.” 486.11: “chink:” slang for Chinese. See next entry. 486.12: “jape:” Jap: slang for Japanese. Perhaps also, paralleling “chink,” gap. 486.12-3: “little fellow in my eye:” etymologically, “pupil” derives from pupilla, the pupil of the eye; a pupula is a little boy. (Probable connection – see two previous entries – with Orientals-as-diminutive.) The subject is seeing his own miniature reflection in a hypnotist’s eye – as in Donne's “The Good-Morrow.” 486.14: “poor armer in slingslang:” arm in sling. Perhaps also an overtone of Port Arthur, Manchuria, site of both a massacre in the Sino-Japanese War in 1894, and of the Japanese defeat of the Russian fleet in 1904. 486.14: “slingslang:” singsong 486.14-33: “Now…fading:” incorporates elements of Masonic initiation: “temple,” T-square, placing of compass point to breast and asking, “Do you feel anything?” 486.14: “Tuttu:” Italian tutti: everything 486.15: “burial jade:” jade ornaments excavated from tombs. Jade in particular because of oriental context 486.15: “to your temple:” hand to temple was a common stage mentalist’s gesture. 486.17-9: “- I see a blackfrinch pliestrycook…who is carrying on his brainpan…a cathedral of lovejelly for his…Tiens, how he is like somebodies!:” (Ellipses in original.) Upright prompts image of vertical line crossed on top by horizontal line at 90˚ angle: a man with a platter on his head. “Blackfrinch” sounds like backfrisch, slang for a teenage girl. (I don’t see how that fits in here; it may possibly be anticipating the Issy apparition of the next response.) “Cathedral,” like “Templar,” is probably cued by “temple” (.15). In any case, it goes with The French cast of this passage, which as McHugh says can reflect Tristan’s French influence. Standard tokens of Frenchiness follow: cuisine (pastrycook”), love-making (“lovejelly”) – the man with the platter on his head is carrying sweets to his sweetheart. “Brainpan” and “somebodies” may signal the French equivalent of Franglais. 486.17: “pliestrycook:” French plié can mean either twisted or two-fold. Here, the latter seems likelier: the vision is of a plural “somebodies”(.19). 486.21: “I horizont the same, this serpe with ramshead:” that is, he is moving the T shape from vertical to horizontal, thus giving it the outline of a sideways line with horns projecting perpendicularly, upward and downward, from one end. Note: Oxford editors have “same” being followed by a figure resembling facing the opposite direction. 486.23-5: “ - I feel a fine lady…floating on a stillstream of isisglass…with gold hair to the bed…and white arms to the twinklers…O la la!” (Again, ellipses in original.) shape (or – see previous – other way around) translates into vision of lady (Iseult) lying horizontal on her bed, her head over the edge, with her long hair falling downward and her arms reaching upward. Labials of “lip a little…liplove” provide sound effects for conjuration of “stillstream.” (Also, speaking of streams, at 327.14, Issy’s truckle bed is a “trickle bed.” If ALP is a river, her daughter is a rivulet.) Isinglass is semitransparent and was sometimes used for windows, hence stream-like; as a jelly made from fish, it is probably prompted here by “lovejelly” (18). “Twinklers” are stars, perhaps (like the ones Molly Bloom sees/imagines in “Penelope”), decorations in the ceiling wallpaper. “O la la!” continues the cartoon-French thread. First words echo “To see a fine lady upon a white horse.” The two upstretching arms are Issy’s II (sometimes i i) signature. 486.27: “I invert the initial of your tripartite:” the initial of Patrick’s Tripartite Life is "T;" inverted, it becomes the shape of a T, upside down: see next entry. Note again (see note to .21): Oxford editors have and upside-down T following “initial.” 486.28: “on your breast:” in placing the inverted T-shape to Yawn’s breast, the interrogator enacts a physician applying a stethoscope, listening for the patient’s heartbeat. (Early stethoscopes, in use into the 20th century, terminated in a large flat disc, positioned perpendicular to the tube.) 486.30: “I ahear of a hopper behind the door slappin his feet in a pool of bran:” Mental image, from : a cartoon rabbit (“hopper”), its big feet stuck out right and left, its long ears sticking straight up. I suggest that the wet “slappin” sound he hears is of the love-making of Tristram and Iseult, who were brought together in the last two sequences, listened to from behind their door. (The liquid sounds of .22 seem to be still around. In "Cice," the sounds approximate "liplapping loudly, poppysmic plopslop.") “Slappin” includes lapin, French for rabbit, and rabbits are and were proverbial for incessant sex. In retrospect, stage one was the man’s arrival, stage two was his getting horizontal, stage three penetration; “love jelly” signified sexual secretions, both his and hers, whose mingling produces “slappin” sound. “Pool of bran” is a delayed response to “brainpan” (.18); maybe - long shot - the pastrycook could also, as a regular baker, turn out baked (bran) bread. Pronounced metrics (four anapests, probable line break, two dactyls, ending, I think, in a cretic) surely convey the sound of the heart’s beating; iambs are proverbially the normal rhythm for the heart (lub-dub), but, given the circumstances, Yawn’s heart would be racing. At this point, the three Q & A’s have followed the custom in some churches of crossing forehead, lips, and breastbone in sequence while promising to obey God with thoughts, words, and heart. Also, there seems to be a certain admixture of Freemasonry (see .14-33 and note): in Masonic initiation ceremonies a compass point is pressed against the candidate’s naked left breast and he is asked, “Do you feel anything?;” the geometric square (though not T square) is a central Masonic symbol; Knights Templars are a branch of Freemasonry sworn to Christianity. 486.34: “irmages:” “ir” prefix means “irregular” 487.1: “iberborealic:” hyperbolic. Also, Irish (Hibernian) viewing of the Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights, at certain times and places visible from Ireland. (McHugh has Mark as the likeliest interrogator here; I incline toward Matthew, the bossy one.) 487.2-3: “largely substituted in potential secession from your next life by a complementary character, voices apart? Upjack!:” again, I suggest that this traces to Joyce’s knowledge that his birth, bestowing all the de facto privileges of primogeniture, was preceded by the birth and early death of a son named John. (In “Ithaca” (U 17.2264), Stephen is “the eldest surviving son of Simon Dedalus.”) “Jack” is a familiar version of John. See .10 and note. 487.7: “thogged:” thought 487.9-10: “odinburgh:” besides Edinburgh, Dublin, founded by the Odin-worshiping Vikings. 487.10: “addlefoes:” Oedipus. In one letter, Joyce blamed both his father and himself for his mother’s early death; the idea returns in Ulysses. 487.10: “Jake Jones:” response to “Upjack!” (.4). In a sequence that anticipates the last scenes of Ghostbusters, Yawn has been cautioned to be careful what subject he thinks of next, presumably on the basis that thinking it will bring it to the fore; the inquisitor says that the reaction, “The next word,” will depend on Yawn’s answer (.5-7). Given that the inquisitor’s “Upjack!” has already put the subject in his mind, this was a an especially sneaky kind of trick. (As a child, Tolstoy was ordered by his brother to stand in a corner until he stopped thinking about a white bear; he stood there for hours.) As to be expected, he muffs the answer, not only with “Jake Jones” but with such equivocal remarks as “I’m not meself at all” (.18). 487.11: “boy’s apert:” as McHugh notes, response to “voices apart” (.4). (Oxford editors have “boys’s apert,” which would augment the similarity.) 487.12: “nexword:” response to “next word” (.5) 487.13-5: “A few times, so to shape, I chanced to be stretching…the liferight out of myself in my ericulous imaginating:” trying on, or even imagining that he was “trying on,” his brother’s “substisuit” (.11), he was stretching it out of any recognizable shape, because, as Shaun, he’s the fat one, with (see .16 and note) the middle-age spread. “Ericulous” probably combines Eris, goddess of discord, with “ridiculous.” 487.14: “stretching:” as in “stretch of the imagination” (“imaginating” (.15)). May be pertinent that in Huckleberry Finn a “stretcher” is somewhere between an exaggeration and an outright lie. 487.14: “shadow as I thought:” shadow of a doubt 487.14-18: “liferight…messmate…pottage…meself:” embeds elements of the story of the “mess of pottage” for which Esau sold his birthright. A reply to an insinuating question about whether he ever thought about being “substituted in potential succession…by a complementary character” (.2-4), the issue will be driven home, accusingly, by the next question: “The voice is the voice of jokeup, I fear” (.21-2). Yawn’s “my addlefoes, Jake Jones” (.10), a response to the questioner’s “Upjack!” (.4), is, to repeat (see .10 and note), in all probability not unrelated to the fact that both the older brother who died in infancy and the younger brother who did not were named “John Joyce;” “Jack” is an informal version of “John.” 487.14-5:” the liferight out of:” the life right out of 487.15: “ericulous:” ridiculous, miraculous 487.15: “ericulous imaginating:” response to “iberborealic imagination” (.1). (Talk of Yawn’s wild imagination presumably relates to the visions he experienced at 486.6-32.) 487.15-6: “Scotch and pottage:” Scotch Pot: distilled whiskey. Also, Scotch porridge goes with (.9-10) Edinburgh. 487.16: “roung my middle ageing:” compare “muddleage spread” (491.8), middle-aged spread. Oxford editors have “round,” adding a degree of rotundity. 487.17: “baste:” “bastard” derives etymologically from bast, French for pack-saddle. (The pedlars who rode them were supposedly the traveling salesmen of their day.) Also, “basting” is a kind of stitching. 487.17: “my gots:” Mein Gott! 487.20-1: “In the becoming was the weared, wantnot! Hood maketh not frere:” sarcastic response to “become” (.19). Some of Yawn’s evasive answer involved clothing and change of clothing (.11-2, .17: see note), and “becoming” is a word often applied to someone’s new clothes, as in “How becoming!” (Here, ironic.) The speaker here chooses to hear these words as meaning that Yawn claimed to have changed his identity by changing clothes with his brother, that becoming someone else was just a matter of wearing something else. But no: in the beginning was the word, not “weared,” and it takes more than a hood to make a friar. (The bit about the brother is largely the inquisitor’s accusatory interpolation, imposed on Yawn’s vague meandering about some male he once knew.) The interrogation, resembling Christian theological disputes about the nature of the Trinity, will continue at 488.2-3, with its talk of “indwellingness” “entwined of one or atoned of two.” It’s pertinent that Jacob tricked Isaac and disenfranchised Esau by a change of garment. 487.21: “wantnot:” as in “Waste not, want not” – perhaps a response to “baste” (.17) 487.21: “hood maketh not frere:” see note to 483.15ff. 487.22: “Trickpat:” Jacob, as someone who tricked his (Latin pater) father 487.26: “God save the monk!:” response to “frere” (.21), friar. (The two are of course not identical, but, in this chapter, who cares?) 487.27: “strict crossqueets:” strict cross-examination. Response to “straight question” (.25); also, “Cross Questions and Crooked Answers” was, according to Brewer, a “parlour game which consists in giving ludicrous or irrelevant answers to simple questions” – not a bad description of much of this chapter. 487.29-30: “Same no can, home no will, gangin I am. Gangang is Mine and I will return:” McHugh, but not the Oxford editors, recommend moving this to follow “darkest horse in Capalisoot,” which seems to make sense. In either case, “can,” “gangin” and “Gangang” are Scottish idioms. As in the “gang her gates” of “Oxen of the Sun,” it means to leave, to get out. 487.30: “Out of my name you call me:” probably refers to “The voice is the voice of jokeup,” Jacob (.22). 487.31: “shelter:” Oxford editors have “sheltar.” He was also called “Roma” (.22) – Gypsy – and the secret language of Irish gypsies is Shelta. (See McHugh on “Leelander” and “shelter.”) 487.32: “he’s darkest horse in Capalisoot:” (Oxford editors have “the” before “darkest.”) Combining English with Gaelic, “Capalisoot” may be read as sooty (therefore dark) horse – all the better, at night, for eluding capture. 487.32-3: “You knew me once but you won’t know me twice:” compare “Circe:” “You’ll know me the next time,” meaning, You’ve been staring at me for way too long. (Joyce, like his daughter given to prolonged staring, must have heard that, now and then: see note to 51.25-6.) Here, the opposite: you’re not getting another chance to look me over. In general, Yawn’s response in this answer is about avoiding discovery: I’ll speak a language or languages you don’t recognize, I’ll slip away on a sooty - therefore dark and hard to see - horse at night, I’m getting the hell out of here. Besides – here, probably, speaking for FW as well – “I am simpliciter arduus” (.33), just too difficult for the likes of you to understand. 487.34: “Freeday’s child in loving and thieving:” combines Thursday and Friday, from the nursery rhyme. Joyce was born on a Thursday, therefore, according to the rhyme, inclined to (“stolentelling” (424.35)) thieving. (Sure enough, the responder (.35-6) will next accuse him of plagiarism.) A free day is a day off from work or school. 620.11-2: “There is no school today.” 487.35: “My child:” response to “Freeday’s child” (.34). Spoken as if from a priest to a communicant, whether a child or not. 487.36: “Synodius:” synod – an appropriate gathering for a theological dispute. Can be either Protestant or Catholic; as Presbyterian synod, it would be another (Edinburgh) Scottish note. 488.2: “shamefieth:” came forth 488.3: “atoned:” in sense of: made one 488.3: “Art simplicissime:” response (and comeback) to “simpliciter arduus” (487.33) 488.4-12: “Dearly….he!:” if possible, even more evasive than before. Again, a theological or pseudo-theological discourse (heavily Latinate) on, mainly, Trinitarian identity – how one person, or Person, can also be another. Giordano Bruno, introduced by way of “Bruno and Nola” (.4), is prominent because his speculations ran counter to Trinitarian dogma; in particular, in proposing that there might be multiple worlds with other intelligent inhabitants, he raised the unsettling question of whether there would then have to be multiple Christs to redeem them. Yawn is aiming for a Brunonian resolution: my brother and I are both completely the same and completely different, by way of the coincidence of contraries. 488.4: “Dearly beloved:” words beginning marriage service 488.5: “stationary:” stationery. (Bookstores in Ireland, in this case Browne & Nolan, also sell stationery.) 488.5: “lifepartners:” partners for life, after being married 488.6: “himupon:” hereupon 488.13-4: “- One might hear in their beyond that lionroar in the air again, the zoohoohoom of Felin make Call. Bruin:” (Most writers would probably have set off “in their beyond” with commas.) In FW, Finn McCool’s body extends under Phoenix Park, where the zoo is, including lions and (“Bruin”) bears. A lion is a feline (“Felin”); the zoo is its (“-hoom”) home. Also, see next entry. 488.14: “Noble:” probably traces to “Nola”/”Nolans” (.7/.14) as (“their beyond that lionroar” (.13)) lions, traditionally the noblest of the beasts. “Nolans” makes for a fairly close slant rhyme of “lions.” 488.15: “aver:” response to “Ipanzussch,” that is Ibn Rushd, that is Averröes (.7). According to Oxford editors, the following “who is? If is itsen?” should read “who is? Ib is itsen?” - making for a reprise of “Ibn Sen” (.7), identified by McHugh as Avicenna. To simplify, Averröes and Avicenna are sometimes linked in histories of the Islamic Golden Age, especially as antagonists in their attitudes towards Aristotle. 488.16: “alibi:” Latin for other 488.16: “unegoistically:” response to “egobruno” (.8) 488.17: “Dustify:” as in “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” part of funereal message here 488.18: “breather:” that is, someone who is still alive, for a time 488.18: “Ruemember, blither, thou must lie:” 1. both rue (sorrow) and blithe (happy). Bruno’s motto was “In tristia hilaris hilaritate tristis:” In sadness cheerful, in gaiety sad. 2. A version of Pretorian Guard’s words to emperor during triumphs, often rendered “Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal,” i.e. thou must die. Probably a response to Yawn’s “mortal powers” (.8). 3. to Yawn: stop blithering, start lying. 488.19: “-Oyessoyess!:” as “Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!,” proclamation at beginning of British courts 488.19: “prebeing a postman:” the Mullingar Inn also served as a post office. “Prebeing:” that is, in a former life 488.20: “ostralian:” with ost, German for east, this can be a version of “Austrian.” Trieste was in Austro-Hungary. 488.21-2: “ne’er to name, my said brother, the skipgod:” beside (McHugh) scapegoat, scapegrace. “Ne’er” as in “ne’er-do-well.” 488.23: “looking at churches from behind:” that is, at their apses 488.23-4: “Hullo Eve Cenograph:” compare Stephen in “Proteus,” imagining a telephone call to Eve through the “strandentwining cable” of linked navelcords: “Hello! Kinch here. Put me on to Edenville, Aleph, alpha: nought, nought, one.” 488.24: “Cenograph…every Allso’s Night:” Cenotaph: British monument to WW I dead. The dead in general are believed to walk on All Souls’ Night. 488.25-6: “Noughtnoughtnought nein. Assass:” the phone number reflects the presence of the four evangelists: the three synoptics, the odd one out (John/Johnny) and his ass. The (“Cenograph” (.24)) telegraph’s message is being dictated over the telephone. The “punk”s, besides being the “stop”s of telegraphy, may also be the sound of coins being dropped into the telephone’s coinbox. 488.26: “Dublire:” both Dublin and Dún Laoghaire, Dublin’s port city 488.26: “Neuropaths” a neuropath can be either a nerve doctor or someone suffering from a disorder of the nervous system. Neural paths are electrical, and FW repeatedly coordinates them with other electrical communications – here, telegraph and telephone. 488.27: “opening tomorrow:” opening day for the “play” or “plays” 488.29: “Alby:” response to “alibi” (.16) 488.29: “Geoff:” short for Noah’s son Japhet 488.29: “blighter:” brother 488.30: “white patch on his rear:” suspected shirkers during WW I were presented with white feathers (from chickens’ tail feathers) as a token of cowardice. To “show the white feather” was to turn tail and run. See next. 488.30-1: “How he went to his swiltersland after his lungs:” he went to Switzerland (he said) on doctor’s orders, apparently because the clean mountain air would be good for his lungs. After WW I began, Joyce left Trieste in Austria-Hungary, one of the combatants, to sit out the war in Zurich. 488.31: “my sad late brother:” as in “my said brother” (.22), the one just mentioned 488.31-2: “coglionial expancian:” colonial expansion. Also, as (see McHugh) cogliones: increasing the reproductive rate is one way of expanding colonially. 488.32-4: “Won’t you join me in a small halemerry, a bottle of the best, for wellmet Capeler, united Irishmen, what though preferring the stranger:” let’s toast him even though he’s abandoned us for foreign parts. (In Exiles, Joyce stand-in Richard Rowan is charged with having abandoned Ireland “in her hour of need.”) “Stranger:” foreigner 488.33: “Capeler:” response to “Capalisoot” (487.32) 488.36: “Graw McGree:” Gaelic: Love of My Heart 489.2-3: “fuchs…ladgers:” first, latter 489.3: “V.V.C:” Italian for toilet: double VC, pronounced dooble-Vay-Say. The pairing with (McHugh) the V. C./Victoria Cross doubtless reflects Joyce’s usual feelings about such official distinctions, as with the “Aeolus” translation of the honorific “K. M. R. I. A.” to “Kiss My Royal Irish Arse.” 489.4: “Fullgrapce:” grapes, as in the story of the fox and the grapes. (As McHugh notes, I.6’s Mookse (“muxy”) and Gripes (“-grapce”), are both included on this line; the Aesop fable is a major source.) 489.4-5: “Would he were even among the lost!:” that is, one of the soldiers presumed dead whose bodies were not found. If he were one of the officially dead, we would at least be able to pray for him properly: with an “Oremus poor” (.6) “Oremus pour,” for instance. 489.6-7: “that he may yet escape the gallews and still remain ours faithfully departed:” Oxford editors change “departed” to “deported.” at .4 we heard a version of “have mercy on your soul,” traditionally the last words spoken by a judge to the condemned. Three ways for convicted criminals not to be hanged: to commit suicide (also known as “cheating the hangman”), to be sentenced to the (“gallews”) galleys, to be deported, for instance to Australia. 489.7: “faithfully departed:” again, “departed” may be (see .6-7) and note “deported,” but the “faithful departed” is still audible - a phrase traditionally applied to the dead. Occurs in Ulysses. Here, can also signify someone who has, simply, left the scene. 489.9: “on the airse:” over the (Irish, Erse) radio. He’s glad the “bad man” (.8) is gone and out of sight, but would still like to hear his voice on the radio. 489.10: “in the antipathies of austrasia:” both Austria and Australia. Joyce wrote much of Ulysses when living in the Austro-Hungarian Empire; Shem sometimes hails from the antipodal prison colony of Australia. (Later references to New South Wales (.13) and the Australian cities of Sydney and Albany (.31-2), identified by McHugh, continue the theme.) 489.11: “with my fawngest:” with my fondest: typical sign-off in a letter. (Other examples appear at .24-6.) Here, the letter was apparently accompanied with (“hooshmoney” (.11)) hush-money. (Some of Joyce’s Irish readers wished he had been hushed in time.) 489.12: “hopped it:” escaped from the law 489.12: “lime:” as in limelight. 489.13: “E. Obiit Nolan:” compare Stephen in “Scylla and Charybdis:” “absit nomen!.” Gifford and Seidman translate this as “let the name be absent,” and add that “it also involves a pun on the stock phrase ‘let there be (no) ill omen (in a word just used).’” 489.13: “my fond fosther:” “fosther,” I suggest, may accommodate overtones of father, brother, sister, and mother – and, of course, foster. Compare Portrait, chapter two: “He felt that he was hardly of the one blood with them but stood to them rather in the mystical kinship of fosterage, fosterchild and fosterbrother.” 489.15: “ham:” Ham, one of Noah’s sons, the one who saw him naked, and originator of the dark-skinned races; see both notes to .27. 489.16: “castor and porridge:” childhood memories. Both castor oil and porridge were often given to children, the former as either medicine or punishment. 489.17: “expecting for his clarenx negus, a teetotum abstainer:” excepting for that one mixed wine concoction, he totally abstained from drink. (Also – see McHugh on “teetotum” – from gambling.) Oxford editors’ change of “abstainer” to “obstainer” complicates the question: after all, that claret negus is still and alcoholic beverage. 489.18-9: “ought to be asamed of me as me to be ashunned of him:” either response to or memory of 488.2-3: “of that which shamefieth be entwined of one or atoned of two.” Again, “atoned” in the sense of “asamed,” made one 489.19: “We were in one class of age like two clots of egg:” Castor and Pollux were hatched from an egg – here, logically, a double-yoked egg. As twins, they were the same age. “Age” probably echoes “egg.” See second note to .28. 489.20-1: “my namesick, as we sayed it in our Amharican:” OED entry for “namesake” as adjective: "That shares the same name as someone or something else previously mentioned. Now chiefly North American.” “Sick” is an adjective, and the brother “Ham” was mentioned at .15. (All volumes of the OED became available shortly after Joyce began FW.) 489.21: “Doubly Telewisher:” see McHugh. Again, during Joyce’s lifetime there was no such thing as Dublin television. 489.22-3: “Worndown shoes upon his feet, to whose redress no tongue can tell!:” shoe’s tongue. These shoes are (“Worndown”) wooden as well as worn-down, and wooden shoes have no tongues. “Redress” as re-dress: he needs new clothes, beginning with footwear. 489.23: “boot:” given next sentence, he is begging, requesting a “boot” – a favor. 489.23-4: “Spare me do:” a (delayed) response to 485.19-20: “Spira in Me Domino, spear me Doyne!:” 489.27: “africot lupps:” African lips. See next entry. 489.27: “man with the moonshane:” man in the moon. Probably alludes to music hall song (present in Ulysses), “If the Man in the Moon was a Coon.” 489.28: “moonshane in his profile:” See previous two entries. “Shine” was a derogatory term for African-Americans. 489.28: “halfbrother:” Castor and Pollux had different fathers. See .19 and note. 489.30-1: ”S. H. Devitt, that benighted irismaimed, who is tearly belaboured:” damaged (maimed iris) eyes, causing tears. Michael Davitt is perhaps paired here with his erstwhile ally Parnell, the victim of a vicious assault on his eyes, with (“throw any lime on the sopjack” (.12) quicklime. (Joyce: the Irish “threw quicklime in his eyes.”) Parnell has been an intermittent, border-line presence during the last page. “Tearly belaboured” is, possibly, an overtone of “dearly beloved,” plus tears – by FW both men had long been dead, and, in some quarters, mourned. “Also, “S.H.:” Shem, his name just now detectable in “my shemblable!” (.28), following the sounding of Japhet and Ham, has previously shown up in the guise of “Dave the Dancekerl” (462.17). 489.35: “nonday diary:” night (diurnal) day 489.35: “allnights newseryreel:” some movie theatres of the time specialized in “all-night newsreels:” a series of newsreels shown around the clock. They were sometimes frequented by people looking for a place to sleep. 489.36-490.1: “in this wireless age any owl rooster can peck up bostoons:” radios of the time had very wide ranges: especially at night, one could quite conceivably hear both Boston and Tass from Moscow (.9). Joyce enjoyed listening to American comedians – the “bostoons” – here, presumably being broadcast or re-broadcast from Boston. 489.36: “owl rooster:” time-wise bird-wise, opposites: the owl hoots at night, the rooster crows at dawn 489.36-490.1: “can peck up bostoons:” recalls yet another bird, Biddy, who pecked up the letter sent from Boston. 490.1: “whoewaxed:” shoe wax. See 488.22-3. 490.3: “Way way:” response to “whoewaxed” 490.4-5: “reading alawd, with two ecolites:” Archbishop Laud? A high-church Anglican cleric performing a service is in effect reading Laud, and ("ecolites") “acolyte” is an Anglican, not Roman Catholic, term for altar boy. 490.6-7: “Madonagh and Chiel, idealist leading a double life!:” another theological conundrum: the Madonna, a flesh-and-blood female pregnant with God, was leading a double life. 490.6: “idealist leading a double life!...as appearant nominally:” “Idealist” philosophy as developed by Kant divides reality into the phenomenal and the noumenal. (See first .8 entry.) Philosophical nominalism, of whichever kind, would be opposed to idealism. 490.6-7: “But who…is the Nolan?:” the 19-year old Joyce presented a talk, “The Day of the Rabblement,” beginning, “No man, said the Nolan…” Nobody knew who he was talking about. 490.7: “for the brilliance of brothers:” for the enlightenment of others. See previous entry. Sounds like a sarcastic comment on Joyce’s pretentiousness. 490.8: “pronuminally:” noumenally. Also, pronoun-ally 490.8: “Gottgab:” he has the gift of gab. 490.9: “I get it. By hearing his thing about a person one begins to place him for a certain in true. You reeker, he:” Joyce on his education by the Jesuits: “I have learnt to arrange things in such a way that they become easy to survey and to judge.” “Eureka!” (McHugh: “You reeker”) means, I have found it! (Oxford editors change "You reeker" to "you reeker!" and it move to a position following “get it,” beginning the next sentence with “By.”) 490.10: “stands pat:” American expression for leaving things as they are 490.11: “I see:” besides a follow-up to Eureka!, Issy, the “direct object in the feminine,” the (“maiden sname” (.11-2)), maiden’s name 490.11-2: “by maiden sname:” response to “Madonagh and Chiel” (.6) 490.12-3: “earnestly…houmonymh:” long shot: Ernest Hemingway? He was a fellow expatriate (.16), full-shouldered (.15), with whiskers (.18). Joyce knew him. See note to .17. 490.13: “between this youhou and that houmonymh:” between this you and that him 490.14: “gabgut:” response to “Gottgab” 490.17: “much about your own medium:” that is, about medium height, like you. (Joyce was 5’ 10”, Hemingway 6 feet.) 490.18: “me nabs:” compare “my nabs” in “Counterparts” – comparable to the slang expression “his nibs,” 490.18-9: “pick the erstwort out of his mouth:” take the (first Erse) words right out of his mouth 490.15: “foulshoulders:” full-shouldered” can apply to either physique or fashion 490.20: “Treble Stauter:” trouble-starter 490.20: “Baggot:” response to “gabgut” (.14) 490.21-2: “bringing home the Christmas:” revisits the version of the park encounter beginning at 62.26. 490.22: “hand to eyes on the peer:” holding one hand flat over the eyes is stage language for looking – peering - into the distance. 490.23: “Noel’s Arch:” the Arch, a Dublin pub (140.01, 508.01) 490.25-6: “Jenny Rediviva!:” Jenny Lind, Diva, held a number of post-retirement concerts. Bloom in “Eumaeus:” “Like actresses, always farewell positively last performance then come up smiling again.” 490.26: “Toot!...Toot toot!:” Toodle-oo! Compare next entry. 490.27: “This the way we. Of a redtettetterday morning:” Children’s song: “This is the way we say goodbye / So early in the morning.” 490.30: “shower sign:” line 28: “your contraman from Tuwarceathay is looking for righting that is not a good sign?” “Tuwarceathay” is (McHugh) Gaelic for rainbow; rainbows come with showers; the rainbow was God’s (good) sign to Noah of the new covenant; at .23 we heard of “Noel’s Arch.” 490.32: “Pegeen:” the “Peg” of “Peg O’My Heart” (.31: McHugh) is short for Pegeen. 490.33: “If she ate your windowsill sill you wouldn’t say sow.” Response to “sow” and “Pegeen” (.32, 33) retrieves story of Pegger Festy and the pig eating a “doorweg” (85.2-86.31, etc). 490.34: “that my asking:” the whole windowsill/doorway-eating-pig complex is still, for your annotator, the single most confounding thing in FW, but it may help a bit to note that the Oxford editors insert “at” before “my” – part of the exchange has been in response to (“at”) his asking. 490.35: “bull, a bosbully:” overtone of bully beef – canned beef. Mentioned in “Oxen of the Sun” 490.35: “bosbully, with a whistle in his tail:” bullroarer, used by Druids 491.1: “Goliath, a bull:” goliath bull: a breed of bull, presumably exceptionally large 491.3: “Simply and samply:” perhaps obvious: response to “Sindy and Sandy” (.1) 491.6: “crispin:” as in St. Crispin’s Day – Agincourt, celebrated in Henry V. See next entry, also .34 and note. 491.6-7: “juts kamps:” just wars 491.7: “offthedocks:” on the dot 491.9: “fat…leans:” as in the “Jack Sprat” nursery rhyme 491.9-12: “We can cop that with our straat that is called corkscrewed. It would be the finest boulevard billy for a mile in every direction, from Lismore to Cape Brendan, Patrick’s, if they took the bint out of the mittle of it:” gist: there’s a biblical street called “Straight” (mentioned elsewhere in FW), but we have this street in Cork which, though to be sure U-shaped, would (“cop”) top it, would be straighter longer – much like a modern boulevard – if someone were only to unbend it. (Sounds like an elaborate Irish bull. Modern boulevards (Baron Haussmann’s set the standard) are typically examples of compass-and-straightedge, geometrically-inclined city planners. Dublin’s Baggot Street (.6), by contrast, bends south, then north.) 491.12-3: “You told of a tryst too, two a tutu:” “Two a Tutu” is a response to “Toot!...Toot toot!” (.19), “tryst” perhaps to “tantrums” (.24) 491.15: “Demaasch:” Damascus 491.15: “Strike us up either end:” the next line will give both ends of the song on pp. 45-47. “Strike us up” as in “Strike up the band!” 491.16: “Van Homper:” Vanhomrigh – probably the father, Bartholomew, who was Lord Mayor of Dublin (see Lord Mayor’s Mansion House (.18)). Swift’s creatures from Gulliver’s Travels will show up at .21-2. 491.17-20: “Marak!...Yarak!:” repetitive sounding of “k”s and flat “a”s reiterates the see-swan “quarks” of 383.1-14, which introduced the four old men conducting the inquisition. See notes to .26 and .27. In keeping, Oxford editors change “drapped” (.18) to “drappad.” 491.23: “sallies:” given context, sally in military sense: a sudden foray 491.26: “O Tara’s thrush:” thrushes – for instance “turdus viskivorus,” a.k.a. the mistlethrush, which is mentioned at least three times in this chapter (384.3, 385.2, and, by its alternate name (for the males only) of “stormcock:” “stormcrested crowcock” (468.30)) – and at .29 we will get “mistlemam.” Native to Ireland (Tara), it is a song bird. I suggest that this is a response to the “Pirce! Perce! Quick! Queck!” of the previous line, in turn a response to “Marak! Marak! Marak!” (.17). Its mating call (available on YouTube) is described as loud and rasping, comparable to the sound of a British football ratchet. See next entry. 491.27: “green Thurdsday:” “Thurd-”/turd: response to “thrush” (.26), genus turdus. (And, again, “mistlemam” at .29.) Also, as McHugh notes, in some countries “Green Thursday” is a name for Maundy Thursday. Also, Thursday is the day of FW’s scandal in the park, which usually or always includes an excremental component – often urination, sometimes defecation. (If, as I’ve been suggesting, FW is set on Monday and Tuesday, March 21 and 22, the previous Thursday would have been St. Patrick’s Day, with its wearing of the green.) 491.30: “Phylliscitations:” Phyllis: a formulaic female name in romantic, especially pastoral, poetry; occurs as such in “Oxen of the Sun.” Here, overlaps with “felicitations” and probably “solicitations:” she is beckoning to (same line) “Mr Hairwigger.” 491.30: "daff:” daft. Oxford editors have “Daff.” 491.30-1: “Mr Hairwigger who has just hadded twinned little curls:” has added two curls to the hair of his wig. Also, two little girls (Issy and her looking-glass double), equal-oppositely two carls/churls, the twins 491.32-3: “prooboor welshtbreton:” usually, in Ireland, a Proboer and a West Briton would be in conflict – the one anti-British, the other pro-British. 491.33: “unbiassed by the embarrassment of disposal:” in bed, perhaps bedridden, he is not especially bothered by the business of chamberpots or bedpans removing his waste. 491.33-4: “the first woking day, by Thunder:” he may have been lazing away in bed, but on the first working day, by God, he got up and got going. “Thunder:” a variation on “Thurdsday” (.27), day of Thor, with his thunder. (McHugh, but not Oxford editors, put “by Thunder” after “Baltic Bygrad” (.35).) 491.34: “stepped into the breach:” from the familiar line “Once more into the breach” from Henry V. Signifies high military valor. See next entry. 491.34-5: “and put on his recriution trousers:” in view of this, “breach,” above, probably includes “breeches.” (A response to .17-8: “Marak” “drapped his draraks” – dropped his drawers. Also, McHugh points out that the Lord Ashbourne being alluded to was normally “noted for wearing kilts, not trousers.”) “Recriution” – recruit - because, in this military context (“allies” and “central power” (.24), “warfare” (.32)), he is a recruit, readying to go off to war. See second entry for .36. 491.35: “Baltic Bygrad:” Belgrade, in the Balkans. The Baltic Brigade was a counter-revolutionary military unit engaged in suppressing the leftist uprisings in 1920 Germany. The “old soggy” (old soldier (.36)), embarrassed by Irish non-combatants, is galloping off to find somewhere to fight. (See McHugh on .35-6. Lord Ashbourne died in 1913. The war in question was (.32) the Boer War, during a time when conscription was not in effect for Great Britain.) 491.36: “old soggy:” old soldier 491.36: “when the bold bhuoys of Iran wouldn’t join up:” with (McHugh) “Iran” as Erin, at least semi-sarcastic: unlike other military-age male citizens of Great Britain, for most of the duration Irishmen were not required to join the armed forces for WW I. There was considerable government pressure to shame them into enlisting. 492.3: “dropped his Bass’s:” see 49.32 and note. 492.3-4: “dropped his Bass’s to P flat:” as McHugh notes, a response to “He drapped [drappad] has draraks” (491.18), dropped his drawers. “P” may go with earlier intimations that the reason was excremental – not (like the Russian general) to defecate but to urinate. (In FW, any occurrence of “P” by itself, in any form, is liable to involve “pee.”) 492.4: “allaughed…baited…gamut:” as McHugh notes, alpha, beta, gamma - with gamma as “gamut” also signifying the whole musical scale, which in this case seems to extend to the imaginary note of P flat (.3). (But see next.) 492.5-7: “Loonacied…faulscrescendied:” the seven notes of the standard musical scale translated into what, as McHugh notes, are the seven days of the week, starting with Monday 492.5: “Madwakemiherculossed:” Hercules went mad. Also, Padua’s “colossal statue” of Hercules, by Bartolomeo Ammonati 492.5-6: “Judascessed:” Judas betrayed Jesus on ("jeudi"), Thursday, the day before Good Friday. 492.7: “faulscrescendied!!!!!!!:” given that this gets the most exclamation marks, I suggest it be read as “full crescendo” as well as (McHugh) “false crescendo.” 492.8: “-Dias domnas!:” response to (.7) “faulscrescendied!:” both mean Sunday 492.9: “henpecked:” hand-picked 492.9: “rusish,” perhaps combination of music and rubbish 492.10: “bars:” musical bars; prison bars 492.10: “My Wolossay’s:” Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington 492.10: “My Wolossay’s wild as the Crasnian Sea!:” what she sang to him 492.10: “Crasnian:” Caspian 492.11: “Grabashag:” Abishag was the young woman put to bed with the dying David so that he could get some heat. 492.13: “Capilla, Rubrilla and Melcamomilla! Dauby, dauby, without dulay!:” recalls Belinda’s sylphs in The Rape of the Lock: “Crispissa,” “Brillante,” etc. Here, “Capilla” for hair; “Rubrilla” for rouge, possibly “Melcamomilla” for face cream containing camomile, which is or was sometimes included as a moisturizer. Compare ALP’s application of makeup in I.8, 206.28-207.20. Here, she orders what Pope calls “the “cosmetic Pow’rs” to daub (compare 207.8: “a dawk of smut to her airy ey”) her face right now. All this is, if not a response, a confirmation of the “above statement” (.14) that she was (.8) “Dolled” (the expression “dolled up” was around since the early 20th century, and ALP is sometimes HCE’s “doll” – e.g. 197.20), daintily got up in delightfully ornamental “dwilights” (.9). 492.13: “Rubrilla:” Ruby-ella: response to “Mother of emeralds” (.11); red to green: FW standard example of afterimage color contrast 492.13: “saxy:” Saxon 492.14: “luters in their back haul:” looters with their haul 492.15: “what reflects:” usage here signals lower classes 492.15: “back haul of Coalcutter:” why, suddenly, the Black Hole of Calcutta? One possible answer: HCE’s original, living out the “Finnegan’s Wake” narrative, is bedbound because hung over; his bedroom, with blinds drawn, is dark to ALP, entering it from a brightly lit area, it is very dark. (Joyce pays attention elsewhere to such optical mechanics - here, to the eyes’ pupils’ lag time in contracting or dilating when adjusting to changes in lighting.) Also, overtones (“haul…Coal”) of coalhole, generally the darkest and dingiest area of a house. A coalcutter is a machine boring coal in (also dark and dingy) coalmines. 492.15-6: “my administrants of slow poisoning:” probably an answer to the above report that she sang “Grabashag, groogy, scoop and I’ll cure ye!” (.11) to him. Much of this eludes me, but she does seem to be bringing him something to “cure” him. References to this dubious medicine (the prescriber, “Hairductor Achmed Borumborad,” is based on a Dublin quack) are scattered throughout the book, for instance at 618.9-12, and will reappear several times in this passage. Possibly pertinent: the common expression “kill or cure;” Bloom’s “Lotus Eaters” ruminations on the subject, “Poisons the only cures;” Molly’s grumpy wish that men “ought to get slow poison the half of them.” For well or ill, whether in reality or imagination, the medicine apparently has aphrodisiac properties: having taken it, he will show her “his propendiculous loadpoker,” and she will think of herself as a snake charmer (494.9-11). 492.17: “mainhirr:” Mein Herr 492.19: “parapotacarry’s:” as chambermaid, Nora, at some points detectable in this passage, was expected to carry chamberpots from guests’ rooms. 492.20: “mudfacepacket:” mud treatment for face; again, compare I.8: “she sampood herself with galawater and fraguant pistania mud” (206.30-1). 492.21-2: “aural surgeon:” Royal Surgeon – although an ("aural") ear doctor would also be right for someone named for an earwig. 492.22: “Hairductor:” Herr Doktor: also, a hair doctor to go along with all the other cosmetic preparations 492.23: “1001 Ombrilla Street:” according to Mink, “The Mahratta princes (but Tippoo Sahib was not a Mahratta) were called ‘lords of the umbrella.’” 492.23: “Syringa:” doctors use syringes. 492.28: “mostfortunes:” misfortunes 492.30-1: “a laxative tendency:” one of several suggestions in FW that the mysterious medicine had laxative properties. See, for example, the next entry. 492.32-3: “being forbidden fruit:” presumably because of its laxative nature 492.34: “aroint:” also anoint. A bunch of priests coming to anoint someone for Last Rites does not signal a favorable prognosis. 493.34: “tummy…maladies:” stomach aches 492.34: “singorgeous:” includes “gorge” – again, problems with digestion 493.2: “sambat:” Sabbath 493.2-3: “Sunday feactures:” “features” in sense of non-news items included in the Sunday paper 493.4-5: “paying me his duty on my annaversary:” the “marriage duty” to have intercourse. The anniversary is probably her – Anna’s - birthday. (According to her birth certificate, Nora(h) Barnacle was born on March 21, 1884.) See next entry. 493.5: “nil ensemble:” if French “tout ensemble,” combining with English “ensemble” (a woman’s dress) means everything she wears, then this signifies wearing nothing. She is, so to speak, in her birthday suit, appropriately (see previous entry) for the occasion. 493.5-6: “lazychair:” easy chair 493.6: “he hidded up my hemifaces:” compare Molly Bloom in “Penelope,” on the subject of Boylan’s advances: “the next time he turned up my clothes on me.” Also, he removed the yashmak covering half her face, so that he is able to (see next entry) look “into” her “mirrymouth” (.7). 493.7: “he locked plum into my mirrymouth:” McHugh and Oxford editors both have “looked” replacing “locked.” 493.8-9: “with the so light’s hope on his ruddycheeks and rawjaws:” Oxford editors have "with the songlight’s hope singling on his ruddycheeks and rawjaws." Whatever else is going on (the sun is singing?) the sunlight is either reddening or lighting the ruddiness of his cheeks and jaws; either way, let’s hope it’s a sign of renewed health. 493.9: “rawjaws:” rajahs – continuing colonial India theme. So does the next entry. 493.9-11: “my charmer, whom I dipped my hand in, he simply showed me his propendiculous loadpoker, Seaserpents hisses sissastones:” snake charmer: another India note. Syntax is uncertain – less so when, as the Oxford editors recommend “whom” is replaced by “when” - but the snake-charmer here may be her hand. See next entry. 493.9: “whom I dipped my hand in:” given obvious sexual context, this recalls Nora on her first date with Joyce: she put her hand down his trousers and masturbated him. 493.11: “his mansway:” “the way of a man with a maid.” (Or – see previous – vice-versa) 493.13: “in his gulughurutty:” compare “Circe”’s version of what a man sounds like when (“-rutty”) in rut: “Godblazegukbrukarchkhrasht!” 493.14-5: “Snooker, bort!:” Snooty Baronet, by Wyndham Lewis 493.14: “Snooker:” a cue stick – plausibly phallic 493.15: “bort:” “Bart” is short for Baronet. 493.18: “amnaes:” omnes. The sense is “Fantasy, fantasy, all fantasy.” 493.19: “nihil nuder under the clothing moon:” response to “nil” (.5) – again, with implication of nudity 493.19: “weewahrwificle:” wee wife. Compare “He addle liddle phifie Annie ugged the little craythur” (4.28-9), “I popo possess the ripest littlums wifukie” (532.31), “muliercula” (494.9). 493.19-23: “When Ota, weewahrwificle of Torquells, bumpsed her dumpsydiddle down in her woolsark she mode our heuteyleutey girlery of peerlesses to set up in all their bombossities of feudal fiertey, fanned, flounced and frangipanned:” Ota, wearing simply a “woolsark,” a woolen version of Burns’ “cutty sark,” nightshirt, caught the attention of all the “mode,” the fancy court ladies in their feudal finery – making them sit up and take notice. 493.22: “fiertey:” finery 493.22: “fanned:” decorative fans would be part of the fashionable ensemble. 493.24: "cuts his thruth:” expression: he cuts his throat with his own tongue. Also, Odysseus as (McHugh) Outis, Noman, was certainly telling less than the whole truth. Given “clothing moon” (.19), “thruth” probably includes a qualifying overtone of “cloth” – “Outis” is cutting his cloth according to the “massstab” (see McHugh) “measure.” Pure truth, by contrast, equates with nudity: “there is nihil nuder under the clothing moon” (.18-9), a variant of “there is nothing truer under the sun.” 493.26: “Yerds and nudes:” yeses and noes 493.26: “nudes:” response to “nuder” (.19) 493.26: “ayes and noes:” eyes and nose, “Yerds and nudes” again, slightly altered 493.26-7: “Let Eivin bemember for Gates of Gold for their fadeless suns berayed her:” “Eivin:” both Erin and Eve/Even/Evening, time of the sunset, which was sometimes, poetically, called “the gates of gold.” So was dawn, but this is, again, evening, and the idea is that the sun is still “fadeless,” still illuminating (be-raying) the land with its rays, making it glow goldenly. San Francisco’s Golden Gate (an area on the edge of its bay had that name before the bridge was built in 1937: see 71.11 and note) was so named because of its Pacific sunset. (Although on the whole it seems unlikely that Joyce had the bridge in mind, note the “pont” (from Latin for bridge) at .29. Google Books has hits for SF’s “Golden Gate Bridge” from 1930 and 1935, the first recording the proposal to build it and the second describing its ongoing construction.) Here, there is an equal-opposite conjunction with (see McHugh) the Moore poem: this time, because Ireland’s sons have not betrayed her, her sun(sets) still make her a paradise on earth. “Gates of Gold” is a frequent poeticism for the Heaven’s entrance (whose gems will appear at 494.4-5 (see McHugh) on a rainbow arch) – and then there’s (“Eivin”) – Eve’s Heaven. “Bemember” is “remember” plus a contraction for “be remembered,” hence the “for.” Possibly pertinent as well that Jerusalem had a Golden Gate, traditionally believed to be on its the eastern side, through which Christ passed on Palm Sunday 493.28: “Irise, Osirises:” Osiris is male; Iris, named twice, the second time imbedded in “Osirises,” is named twice; Osiris’s wife Isis is perhaps present in “-ises.” (And, of course, “(Irise”) Arise, Irish!: which recalls that one reading of FW’s title is: Finnegans, Wake!) In any case, a gender-bending amalgam. Osiris is male, Iris is female, and .27-34 is a male voice invoking a female response: “Ani…shout!” (.32-3). Iris is goddess of the rainbow, and the female answer (493.34-494.5) will give us a rainbow: “that skew arch of chrome sweet home, floodlit up above the flabberghosted farmament…Talk about iridecencies! Ruby and beryl and chrysolite, jade sapphire, jasper and lazul” (494.25-5) – from sun and sunset (see 493.26-7 and note) to Iris’s iridescently chromatic arch. 493.31: “Nu-men:” not a coincidence that this occurs shortly after (.24) “Outis,” Odysseus as Noman. (Compare 374.22-3.) 493.31: “Fly as the hawk:” given this passage’s heavy concentration of Egyptology (see McHugh), this alludes to Horus, the god with the head of a falcon. 493.31-2: “Fly as the hawk, cry as the corncrake:” the voice is imperative: fly as high (and well) as you can, call out as loudly as you can. Hawks are proverbially the supreme (high) flyers, and “Circe” includes a voice “harsh as a corncrake’s.” 493.32-3: “Ani Latch of the postern is thy name:” 1. Arrah na Pogue, Arrah of the Kiss. In FW’s version of the story, her kiss includes a key that frees the prisoner. (Compare “Latch” as in latchkey, for a (“postern”) door.) 2. A postern can be a wicket: Earwicker. A postern is a door: Porter. “For why do you lack a link of luck to poise a point of perfect, peace?” (.29-30), just asked, is a version of the prankquean’s repeated requests in I.1 that the Jarl tell her why they look so much alike and share the same name of Porter. The dream-censored answer is that they are father and daughter. 493.34: “- My heart, my mother!:” she has just been ordered or invited to “shout!” – in a high-pitched, loud voice. She does. 493.35: “O coolun:” imitates sound of keening, in “Circe” rendered as “Ochone! Ochone!,” elsewhere in FW as “Macool, Macool” (6.13). 494.1: “your strawnummical modesty:” addressing, as astronomical majesty, Nu, the Egyptian father of the gods, at 493.30-1 described as the “overseer of the house of the oversire of the seas” – that is, up, astronomically, in the sky (where (“ragingoos” (493.30)) rainbows appear), looking down on the lord of the sea 494.2: “skew arch:” Wikipedia: “a method of construction that enables an arch bridge to span an obstacle at some angle other than a right angle.” Ireland’s canals – for instance the Grand Canal – have included some. 494.2: “skew arch of chrome sweet home, floodlit:” the rainbow after Noah’s flood. “Chrome” from Greek for “color” 494.3-4: “where the camel got the needle:” having suggested (note to 493.26-7) that Jerusalem’s Golden Gate has just been cited, I will also note here that, since well before FW, commentators were arguing that Jesus’s upsetting words about rich men, camels, and needle’s eyes really referred to another Jerusalem gate, this one exceptionally narrow. See second note to 551.33-4. 494.4-5: “Talk about iridecencies!” Oxford editors have “iridescendies.” besides the rainbow’s iridescence, indecencies: the rainbow is also an “arch” (.2). Latin for arch is fornix; Roman prostitutes typically stationed themselves under arches; hence “fornicate.” The seven colors of this rainbow (.4-5) are also painted ladies, floozies at best, each named for a jewel. 494.6-7: “Orca Bellona! Heavencry at earthcall, etnat athos? Extinct your vulcanology for the lava of Moltens!:” ordering her to speak out, the inquisitor has gotten more than he bargained for. You have erupted like a volcano! Please shut up! Too late: her next outburst (.27-495.33) will go on for an impassioned 43 lines, and despite efforts to suppress it, will return, frantically, at page 500 (to me, FW’s emotional high point). The convention in play is that of the Wife of Bath’s Prologue: once a woman starts talking, there’s no shutting her up. 494.8: “in erupting:” “interrupting,” interrupted 494.9-14: ”Ophiuchus…Waste:” 1. Earlier, in II.3, we had a weather report. This is a sky report, from out of Yawn’s repertoire of buried selves. (Or from or with the pub radio. Although it’s too late for local broadcasts, we will definitely be hearing from foreign stations in about five pages.) 2. It also includes a recognizable survey of FW’s family, in its fundamentals (wife “occluded” (.9-10) by big dad, children witnessing and reacting, boys angry and girl(s) weeping) as, I propose, a version of FW’s primal scene. (Compare, especially, the exposé of page 559. The next segment, .15-21, essentially describes a sexually aroused man pursuing and eventually ravishing a more or less willing woman.) 3. Also, a memory of the park scandal. Saturn (“Satarn’s”) is the father as old man, the two “pisciolinnies” are the two (“bonnies”) bonny girls, “Ers, Mores and Merkery” are the three soldiers (here, as (“surgents”) sergeants), “Zenith Part” is Phoenix Park, “Arctura, Anatolia, Hesper, and Mesembria” are the four old men from (see McHugh) the four points of the compass; as in II.4, here as there as epicene “heladies” (386.14), they are surveying the scandalous doings from above. The snake in the garden (“Ophiuchus,” “serpent”) is definitely part of the scene. 494.10: “serpent ring:” ornamental ring designed to resemble a snake 494.10: “pisciolinnies:” Pisces, a constellation 494.10-11: “Nova Ardonis:” New Adonis – New Man: response to “Nu-Men” (493.33). Ideal for both Nazis and Soviets, here perhaps given a Hollywoodian twist 494.11: “Parthenopea:” Parthenope was a siren desired by a centaur named Vesuvius. Jupiter turned him into a volcano, and he sometimes erupts in frustration. 494.11: “bonnies:” bonus 494.12: “Ers, Mores and Merkery are surgents below the rim:” if Earth, Mars, and Mercury, in one region of the sky, are just below the horizon (surging upward towards visibility?), and Saturn is visible and blocking out a constellation (.9-10), we must be on Jupiter. (Yes, I’m probably taking this too literally. Still, I will point out that the horizon is “thorizon” (.9), including Thor, the Nordic Jupiter, and compare first note to .11.) In any case, all this star-gazing comes from having the attention drawn toward the rainbow in the sky. 494.14: “weep in their mansions:” draws on expression “mansions of the blest” (habitations of angels) and Milton’s “tears such as angels weep.” The four deities listed here all have female names and are weeping over human folly and suffering below. 494.14: “Noth, Haste, Soot and Waste:” haste makes waste. “Soot” as residue of destruction, for instance from a volcano. “Noth” may be short for “Nothing;” Bonheim lists it as German not, meaning need or emergency. 494.15-26: “Apep…Magraw!:” Innuendoes of phallic sexuality dominate this passage, perhaps prompted by the preceding snake language (.9-10); see next entry. 494.15: “Apep and Uachet!:” “Holy Snakes:” As McHugh notes, the names of two Egyptian snake divinities, one a god and the other a goddess. Again, this is a response to “serpent ring” (.10) – and, probably, to “Ophiuchus.” 494.15: “Chase me charley:” occurs in “Circe.” Gifford calls it a “common music-hall expression of female high spirits.” 494.15-6: “Eva’s got barley under her fluencies:” “barley:” beurla, English. She’s fluent in it, perhaps with the sense that it was not her original language. Also, the man, with his “strombolo,” is very much interested in what she’s got under the flounces of her skirt. (Compare 221.11: the manservant “under the inflounce of the milldieuw and butt” of Kate.) 494.16-7: “The Ural Mount he’s on the move:” faith can move mountains. So, apparently, can lust. 494.16: “Ural Mount:” origin of Russian General: 344.26, 353.24 494.17: “strombolo:” as Stromboli, a response to “volcanology for the lava of Moltens!” (.17). Also: as, obviously, his erection, comparing ejaculation with eruption 494.18: “as broad above as he is below:” expression: as broad as it’s long. In “Hades,” it reminds Bloom of Boylan’s penis. 494.19-20: “before the Emfang de Maurya’s class:” see McHugh. He’s crept up to get a view of young Catholic girls in class. Yet another sign that FW’s main male has a problem with underage females. See entries for .20 and .22; also next entry. 494.20: “Shotshrift:” short shift, as worn by girl students 494.21-2: “Obeisance so their sitinins is the follicity of this Orp!:” what the girls are being taught in class - Dublin’s motto, which does indeed tell them to obey municipal (or, come to that, any other) authority. (No wonder Joyce loathed it.) Oxford editors replace “sitinins” with “sitinims.” 494.23: “fat of the land:” back of the hand 494.23-4: “The treadmill pebbledropper haha halfahead overground:” ALP as River Liffey. Pebbles are “brookpebbles” (72.33), her “necklace of clicking cobbles and pattering pebbles and rumbledown rubble” (205.5-6). 494.24: “haha halfahead overground:” “half a league onwards,” from “The Charge of the Light Brigade” 494.24-5: “Up the slanger!:” “slanger:” snake (McHugh), schlong. In other words, a pep talk addressed to his own male member: Get it up, oh my (.23) “dick.” (Compare 494.23, with McHugh note.) Also – compare the “libels” of .32 – slander. 494.26: “Three cheers and a heva heva for the name Dan Magraw:” compare 584.5-6. McGrath, often associated with (.23) snakes, may be, as Glasheen says ALP’s “special hate,” but at times he also seems, in her imagination, to be her demon lover – perhaps a former lover, sailor not tailor, from before she settled down. As in “Proteus,” Eve is “Heva,” here doubled into a Hear! Hear! cheer for “Magraw.” Brendan O Hehir traces the name to Gaelic mo grádh, my love. (As for McGraw’s/McGrath’s snakiness: in “Circe,” Bloom reflects that women, as “the cloven sex,” ought to fear all animals (e.g. mice) that might creep up into them, but that the story of “Eve and the serpent contradicts.” Not an original observation.) See next entry. 494.27-495.33: “-The giant sun…Ann.:” again, the speaker here is clearly ALP, coming in as a response to (.26) “a heva heva for the name Dan Magraw!” Also again, “Heva” is Eve, and McGrath (a.k.a. “Magraw,” etc) is her perpetual love/hate obsession, bound to get a rise out of her. 494.28: “white dwarfees…seventh:” apparently an allusion to the seven dwarfs of the Snow White story, in circulation well before the Disney movie. 494.28: “surabanded:” they surround him, moving in a slow dance. Also, a sura: one of the chapters of the Koran. Spanish saraband was/is believed to have Muslim origins. 494.28-9: “And do you think I might have being his seventh:” a chance of being his seventh wife – the seventh wife of an old, rich man, therefore likeliest to inherit his fortune. Certainly pertinent that Bluebeard’s last wife was traditionally his seventh. She found him out, with results fatal for him but not her. Also, possibly a side allusion to the Pleiades, who as a cluster of discernible but not especially conspicuous stars might count as “white dwarfees” (.28). (Astronomically speaking, they aren’t.) The tradition is that there are seven of them but that the last one is elusive: most of the time you can see only six. 494.29: “He will kitssle me on melbaw:” when a girl, some time in the early 1930’s, my mother was told that if she could kiss her elbow she would turn into a boy – apparently a widespread belief among the children of the time. Given Bluebeard context, echo of “kill” in “kitssle” is pertinent. 494.30: “What about his age? Says you? What about it? says I?:” as a rich man’s seventh wife, she is presumably considerably younger. Challenged on that the subject, she tells her questioner to mind his own business. Compare 31-2 and note. 494.30: “I. I:” two I’s or i's are invariably an Issy signature – here because in comparison to her aged husband ALP is a young girl. 494.30-1: “I will confess to his sins and blush me further:” the father confessor will be the one blushing when I confess to my husband’s sins instead of my own. 494.31-2: “I would misdemean to rebuke:” it would be beneath me – I would demean myself – to respond. 494.32: “fleshambles, the canalles:” Fishamble Street; an 1889 document calls it “now one of the poorest streets in Dublin.” The change from “fish” to “flesh” indicates a place where cattle were slaughtered – again, an undesirable area. Close to the Liffey, it is not near any of Dublin’s canals. Given context, an allusion to Marthe Fleischmann, on whom Joyce had a crush, seems more than likely. See next entry. 494.33: “Synamite:” see entry for 492.15-6. Again: Abishag, “the Shunamite” mentioned in “Circe,” was the young woman brought to King David’s bed in his old age so that he could “get some heat.” Joyce apparently believed, incorrectly, that Marthe Fleischmann was Jewish; see next entry. 494.33: “Two overthirties:” born in 1885, Marthe Fleischmann was over thirty when she met Joyce in 1918. The sense is that she/they is/are old enough to know better, and certainly too old to be going around in “shore shorties” (.33-4; see note). Over all, the voice of an indignant wife, part Juno and part Nora, grudgingly resigned to her husband’s occasional susceptibility to floozies (compare .4-5) but much harder on the women themselves: Dynamite is “too good for them!” “Two,” doubling as over-thirty 32 and Roman numeral II, makes for a passable 1132. 494.33-4: “shore shorties:” “shirty” is or was a brief dress or dress-like garment, according to its appearances in Google Books worn by silly youngsters, mainly but not exclusively female. 494.35: “left:” late 495.1-3: “Sully…Parsee:” Percy Bysshe Shelley was certainly a (“wreuter of annoyimgmost letters” (.2)), writer of documents that annoyed the authorities: one got him expelled from Cambridge. ALP’s enemies list often extends to authors of (“skirriless”) scurrilous accusations against HCE. 495.3: “skirriless ballets:” skirl: sound of bagpipes, here either blaring or (skir-less) not blaring the scurrilous ballad (introduced at pages 44-7). Sully, its author, is McGrath’s accomplice, and McGrath is a Scottish name. 495.5: “not fit enough to throw guts down to a bear:” the expression “not fit to carry [“throw” is a variant] guts to a bear” (McHugh) is an insult, the equivalent of “not enough brains to come in out of the rain.” 495.5: “Sylphling:” Sybil; syphilis 495.7: “cut his nose on the stitcher:” a stitcher is a machine used for cutting out patterns in cloth or leather – e.g. shoe soles 495.8-10: “Here to the leglift of my snuff and trout stockangt…and a froren black patata:” confusing for sure, but in “Circe” Zoe Higgins folds Bloom’s black and shriveled potato into the top of her stocking. 495.13: "Lynch, Brothers, Withworkers:" another overtone of cricket's Leg Before Wicket," a frequent FW motif 495.16: “roll myself for holy poly:” Holy Rollers 495.17: “make laugh over him:” OED’s first occurrence of “make love” meaning “have sex” is in 1927. (Not included in the 1929 transition, this was written later.) Here, part of a strange sleeping arrangement: he, her nemesis, can be under her “pallyass” – palliasse, a straw mattress - while she’s sleeping on it. She and “Riley” (.17), presumably a version of yet another nemesis, Persse O’Reilly, will be making love and laughing at him, either on top of him (on that palliasse) or “in the Vickar’s bed” (.17-8). Recalls the scene in “Circe” where Bloom becomes a liveried flunkey observing his own cuckolding. 495.18-20: “Quink! says I. He cawls to me Granny-stream-Auborne when I am hiding under my hair from him and I cool him my Finnyking he’s so joyant a bounder:” in-jokes about the Joyces’ love life. As McHugh notes, “Quink” is a barnacle goose. Joyce celebrated Nora Barnacle’s auburn hair; 139.23-4 commemorates ALP’s “auburnt streams;” Joyce was aware that his name meant joy. 495.19-20: “my Finnyking:” my king of fish. Facetious. Perhaps also kingfisher, notable for its steep and sudden dive into water, hence “Plunk!” (.20) 495.20: “bounder:” a cad, a lowlife lady-killer, here used with affectionate sarcasm 495.20: “Plunk!:” again, the sound of the bounding fish (or bird) hitting the water; also a response to “Quink!” (18). Variant of FW’s p-q doublets 495.22: “forty winkers:” Shakespeare, Sonnet 2: “When forty winters shall besiege thy brow” 495.22: “a handsome sovereign was freely pledged in their pennis in the sluts maschine:” sex-talk aside, probably means that a pound’s (sovereign’s) worth of pennies (240 in all) were fed, one by one, into the slot machine. (See next entry.) “Something handsome” served as a euphemism for a hoped-for tip or gift of money. Given the obvious sexual innuendo, “pledged” may refer to the “marriage debt” or “marriage duty” (see 493.4-5 and note) of sexual availability. Also, according to OED, “slut’s-pennies” are “hard pieces in a loaf due to imperfect kneading of the dough.” 495.23: “cherrywickerkishabrack of maryfruit:” slot machines (see previous entry) were sometimes called “fruit machines,” because of the lemons, pears, etc. on their reels. Cherries were always or almost always included; three in a row would deliver a jackpot. 495.24: “under Shadow La Rose:” sub rosa 495.25: “legintimate lady performers of display unquestionable:” “leg” and “intimate” indicate a “leg show” – an early version of striptease. In the same vein, “display unquestionable:” a display of unmentionables. (It’s tempting to think that “Shadow La Rose” (.24) includes Gypsy Rose Lee, whose career blossomed during the FW years – but probably not.) Not surprisingly, at .27-8 it will be reported that someone saw someone else’s (under)pants. 495.26-8: “that noblesse of leechers at his Saxontannery with motto in Wwalshe’s ffrenchllatin: O’Neill saw Queen Molly’s pants:” Edward III’s sexcentenary would have been either in 1912 (600 years after his birth) or 1927 (600 years after his coronation). Tradition has it that he originated the French-Latin expression “Honi soit qui mal y pense” in or around 1346, in one version of the story as a way of confuting suspicions of lechery, occasioned by the sudden appearance of a garter, not underwear. Regardless, his Wikipedia entry records that “much has been made of Edward’s sexual licentiousness.” 495.29: “complet manly parts:” male genitalia; male counterpart to “Molly’s pants” (.28). Oxford editors have “complete” for “complet.” (As in an “entire,” uncastrated stallion?) 495.30: “five itches above the kneecap:” given context, five inches above the knee is the maximum permissible exposure on stage. (For the exception, see .30-1 and note.) Also, a likely position for a garter: see .26-8 and note. 495.30: “magistrades:” see next two entries. Local cases of challenged staged nudity were sometimes dealt with by magistrates. 495.30-1: “as required by statues. V.I.C. 5.6:” see next entry. Issues of how much bare skin could be permitted on stage were handled by the Lord Chamberlain, acting under the Theatres Act of 1843, which like other statutes was labeled according to the reigning sovereign: “Vict.” May also reflect that stage nudity or semi-nudity was sometimes defended with comparisons to classical statues. (In 1940, London’s Windmill Theatre would be permitted to present total nudity so long as the performers stayed frozen, like statues.) Also: if, as seems likely, “V.I.C. 5.6” refers to “that noblesse of leechers” (.26), the husband of “Your wife” (.34), ALP, it would be one of several hints that, as your annotator believes, his default age is 56. 495.31-2: “If you won’t release me stop to please me up the leg of me:” see note to 124.4-5. This gives approximately the same story: a woman telling a man that if he won’t stop pestering her with his demands he might as well come across with some real action, and suggesting that he begin by moving his hand up her leg, presumably more than (.30) “five inches above the kneecap.” 495.32: “Respect:” short for “Respectfully” sign-off. Also “Respect…Your wife” (.32-3). The latest version of ALP’s letter, first introduced on page 111. Also, equal-oppositely, “Respect yourself:” in “Circe,” a prostitute’s admonition to a too-forward potential client 495.33: “Amn. Anm. Amm. Ann:” Um. Um. Um. Um. Sound of four kisses; corresponds to X’s on letter. Compare Mrs. Breen’s “pigeon kiss” in “Circe:” “Hnhn.” 495.34: “Frui Mria:” according to Christiani, Fru Marie Grubbe, a wealthy Danish woman of the 17th century, and the title of an historical novel by Jens Peter Jacobsen based on her life. She was twice unhappily married, had a number of affairs, and at the age of 46 married a coachman more than twenty years her junior. Christiani reports that in the novel Grubbe’s final match is with a “muscular farmhand,” and says that in the preceding lines of this FW page she has been plying the object of her desire “with food and favors.” 495.36: “your silvanes and your salvines:” response to her complaints about Sullivans – e.g. “Shovellyvans” (.2). 496.1: “Alas for living’s pledjures:” compare “pledged” (495.22). Her lament resembles that of the Wife of Bath: Alas that ever love was sin! Having revealed herself to be a femme moyenne sensuelle, she’s not happy at hearing herself compared to someone like (see entry for .34) Fru Grubbe. 496.2-14: “Lordy Daw…that:” after a sarcastic dismissal of her (feminine) sentiments; the gist: don’t blame Sully/Sullivan, McGrath, etc. - the simple reason that everyone despises your man is that he’s despicable. Accompanied by echoes of Oscar Wilde’s disgrace: theatrical context; “humbugger” (.3); “Bumbty” (.6): bum, Bunberry, also “bumgalowre” (.13); “Sot” (7): sod, short for sodomist/sodomite/”somdomite;” rejection by “minx” and “meid” (.8, .11): Joyce’s essay on Wilde repeats the story that prostitutes danced in the street when he was convicted. 496.7: “Mute art for the Million:” a description of all the graffiti, posters, and handouts attacking HCE 496.8: “minx:” the phrase “minx cat” is a mistaken version of “Manx cat.” Manx cats come from the Isle of Man and are tailless. In “Circe,” the term insinuates impotence or castration. 496.9: “four cantins:” by analogy to Swiss cantons, the four provinces of Ireland 496.11: scurface:” a scurfy face, with skin flaking off. (Also: “Scarface” Al Capone? Joyce at least knew about Chicago’s “Racketeers and bottloggers” (19.19), and we will get “flappergangsted,” 20’s American flapper and gangster, at .15-6.) 496.13: “allgas:” all-gas: term for households with gas throughout. Given “bum” in “bumgalowre,” probably indicates flatulence, something of an HCE signature: see .20, 94.33-94.10. Followed in the next line by “piles” (hemorrhoids) and (“faces”) feces 496.15-6: “flappergangsted:” flapper: stylish young society woman of the 1920’s, sometimes considered to be promiscuous, here aligned with a gang or gangster 496.18: “I have it here to my fingall’s ends:” she has been told to “Recount!” (.17) – probably meaning just to remember and review the story. Response: she (sounds to me as if fading back into the original he) mistakes it as an order to re-count, on her fingers, which, in turn, toes substituting for fingers, leads to the “This little piggy” nursery bit. May draw on old joke about the yokel who, asked to count above ten, has to take off his shoes and socks. 496.18-20: “This liggy piggy wanted to go to the jampot. And this leggy peggy spelt pea. And theese lucky puckers played at pooping tooletom. Da’s ma:” with (see entry for .19) “theese” as “threese,” a thumbnail version of the park scandal of Book I. Two girls peeing in a pot, seen by three peepers; the (“da”) dad is somehow in on the action. 496.18-20: “liggy piggy…leggy peggy…lucky puckers:” “lully priggers” steal clothes from clotheslines. Also, ever since the “jinnies with their legahorns” (8.31), the park temptresses have sometimes lured men with a display of their legs. “Leg shows” were popular entertainments for men, and “leggy Peggy” would have been an attractive woman with long legs. A man who, through marriage or otherwise, was about to have intimate access to a woman was and is sometimes called a “lucky” so-and-so – “Lukky Swayn” (325.35-6), “Stilla Star with her lucky in goingaways” (28.23). 496.19: “And theese:” Oxford editors have “threese,” raising the possibility that the piggies in question include the Three Little Pigs. The story was around long before the 1933 Disney version. 496.19: “spelt pea:” “spell” originally meant “speak.” See entry for 21.18-9 on the Sicilian Vespers, where “ciciri,” Sicilian dialect for “chickpea,” was the life-or-death shibboleth. In the “prankquean” episode of I.1, it is part of the password to the Jarl’s castle. Here, it is apparently a password for access to a toilet, where one can (“pea”) pee or (“pooping”) poop. 496.22: “Pater patruum:” response to “da” (.20), slang for father 496.22-497.3: “- Pater…Declaim!” Speaker is probably Matthew, the bossy one. 496.23: “ariring out of her mirgery margery watersheads:” referring to and perhaps mocking ALP’s “mergey margey magistrades” (495.30). Also echoes occurrences of “waters of” motif of last paragraph of I.8 (215.31-216.5). Gist: enough (female) swampiness; let’s (.23-4) get back “to dadaddy again.” “Ariring,” besides arising, perhaps in sense of airing out – draining the swamp. See next entry. 496.23-5: “to change that subjunct from the traumaturgid for once in a while and darting back to stuff:” again: enough of the (female) theatrics; let’s get back to (masculine) hard facts. Also, no more (subjunctive) wishful what-if thinking; it’s time to get declarative. 496.25-6: “if so be you may identify yourself with the him in you:” Yawn has been, as we would say today, channeling his mother. The interrogators want him to return to the (“him”) masculine, in particular his father. 496.26-7: “bloodfadder and milkmudder:” German “bludbruder:” two men become blood brothers by mixing blood. 496.27: “our too many of her:” “our” is a common British Isles term for someone close, especially a family member. “Too many of her” may be a pejorative version of ALP’s usual last name, “Plurabelle.” 496.28: “in tea:” in the tea business; also, a teetotaler. Also, “T” is Tristram’s FW signature. 496.28-30: “in tea e’er he went on the bier or didn’t he ontime do something seemly heavy in sugar:” in “Cyclops,” the merchant Herzog deals in tea and sugar. As “dadaddy,” HCE has just been identified as a (“merchamtur”) merchant (.26). 496.29: “on the bier:” dead and stretched out on a bier. Also, as in “Cyclops,” “on the beer:” he’s fallen off the water wagon 496.31: “beak” slang for judge or magistrate, paired with “peacies” (.32) – as McHugh notes, P.C.s, police constables. Even as (“Christy Columb” (.30)) Columbus (but see entry) HCE can’t help getting in trouble – the first time as a jailbird, the second as a fugitive. 496.31: “jailbird’s:” Columbus was imprisoned after his third voyage. 496.31: “unbespokables:” both unmentionables and unspeakables. A prisoner’s clothing would of course not be bespoke. 496.32: “Le Caron Crow:” Major Le Caron was a British spy who testified against Parnell in the Times trial. Also, “corbeau” is a French anti-clerical term for a priest (because of black outfit). In “Circe,” Stephen’s term for an imagined priest is “the reverend Carrion Crow.” 496.32-3: “The seeker from the swayed:” the pioneer separating from the (easily swayed) groupthinking mob 496.33: “the beesabouties from the parent swarm:” a parent swarm is a swarm of bees setting out to establish a new colony. Comparison with Columbus (.30) is apparent. 496.34: “Speak to the right!” Keep to the right! In “Circe” Bloom remembers the cycling directive “Keep to the left,” that is on the same side of the road as other traffic. Given context, this may also reflect proverbial Scottish/Northern/Presbyterian stiffnecked rightmindedness, as with the Ulsterman Mr Deasy: “For Ulster will fight. And Ulster will be right.” See next entry. 496.34-5: “Rotacist ca canny! He caun ne’er be bothered but maun e’er be waked:” as at the end of “Oxen of the Sun,” these are Scottishisms (hence the “clan” in “clandestinies” (497.4-5) – one reason for thinking that the speaker is Matthew from Ulster, with its heavy concentration of former Scots. See next entry. 496.36: “quinnigan:” according to Edward MacLysaght’s the surnames of Ireland, Quinn is the most frequently occurring name in county Tyrone, Ulster. Although widespread, the name appears to have predominantly northern, Protestant associations. 497.1: “Quinnigan’s Quake!:” as close as Joyce gets to revealing the true name of Work in Progress. As McHugh notes, it is here followed by an allusion to Our Exagmination Round His Factification for Incamination of Work in Progress, a collection of essays about the book we’re in. 497.1 “Stump!:” compare Zoe to Bloom in “Circe:” “Go on. Make a stump speech out of it.” Yawn will oblige. 497.4: “Arra irrara hirrara man:” stage-Irish dialect: Ah, O God now. Oxford editors have “irraha.” 497.5: “Imbandiment:” abandonment 497.5: “fogabawlers:” Compare “Nausicaa:” “Faugh a Ballagh!” - warning sound given by ocean steamers; here, a foghorn 497.6: “panhibernskers:” paired with ocean voyagers, hikers over all of Ireland. For “pan-“ see next entry. 497.7: “the great god:” an epithet commonly applied to Pan, a nature god, appropriate for (“scalpjaggers” (.6)) scalp-takers and head-hunters. Traditionally, Pan was dethroned at the arrival of Christ. 497.7-8: “a scarlet trainful:” procession of cardinals: one of several places where this sequence is about the election of a new pope: see next, 479.19 and note, second entry for .10. 497.8: “Twoedged Petrard:” Hamlet’s “hoist with his own petard” expresses the same idea as “two-edged sword.” Also, as McHugh notes, “Tu Es Petrus,” part of the inscription around the inside of Saint Peter’s dome – the site for a papal conclave. 497.10: “insiders:” as in “The Coach with the Six Insides” (359.24), passengers riding on the inside of the coach 497.10: “extraomnes:” “Extra Omnes!:” order given in Sistine Chapel prior to election of new pope 497.13: “wallies of Noo Soch Wilds:” Wales is known for its valleys. Also, “wally” is British slang for fool. 497.15: “oppidumic:” “oppidum:” OED: a Celtic “fortified town or stronghold” 497.22: “twelve stone a side:” twelve stone would be 168 pounds – not especially heavy for most grown men, unless this signifies the weight on each of his two “side”s. HCE is usually represented as fat. 497.23-4: “Uisgye ad Inferos!...Usque ad Ebbraios!:” McHugh and Oxford editors have “Uisgue.” To hell with water! – an appropriate toasts for patrons “at and in [attending] the licensed boosiness primises” (.24) 497.24: “licensed boosiness primises:” besides being in the grocery business, the Mullingar House has a license to sell booze. 497.25: “magazine hall:” French magasin, shop. Again, the Mullingar House inn and pub is also a store. See 78.12-3 and note; .32 and note, .29-33. 497.26-7: “his five hundredth and sixtysixth borthday:” your annotator believes that the default age of FW’s main male is 56. Also, as McHugh notes elsewhere, the traditional year of Finn McCool’s death is 283 A.D., perhaps helping to account for its multiples of 566 and 1132. 497.28: “the Grape:” wine. Goes with (“Rinseky Poppakork”) the rinsing and cork-popping of wine (or beer) bottles. 497.28ff.: “Rinseky Poppakork and Piowtor the Grape…:” as the listed offerings of an establishment both serving alcohol and selling general-store items, this begins with bottled wine and goes on to other merchandise. 497.29: “Dunker’s:” given alcohol context (see, e.g., previous entry), probable overtone of “Drinker’s” 497.29-496.2: “boot kings…Tudor keepsakes:” during this stretch and intermittently thereafter, a satirical list of merchants, profiteers, and celebrities officially ennobled – made knights, etc. – because of their money or fame. A subject of contemporary ridicule of, for instance, “beer barons,” the practice was still controversial enough as of 1965, when the Beatles were awarded Orders of the British Empire, for some previous recipients to indignantly return their own O.B.E.’s. 497.30-1: “sultana reiseines:” sultanas are raisins, from dried grapes. 497.31: “almonders:” an almoner is an official distributor of alms. 497.31: “row of jam sahibs:” compare the “battery of jamjars” in “Ithaca.” 497.32: “principeza in her pettedcoat:” amidst this catalogue of department store offerings, a dummy displaying a petticoat 497.32: “the queen of the knight’s clubs:” perhaps Texas Guinan, contemporary “queen of the night clubs,” who ran a popular night club/speakeasy in New York 497.34: “Ham…Maharashers:” following (see McHugh) salami (“salaames” (.33)), ham and rashers of bacon 497.35: “selver geyser:” silver kaiser. Mentioned in “Ithaca,” the “Silver King” is a play (later movie) about a man, betrayed and exiled, who becomes the fabulously wealthy American “Silver King” and returns to exonerate himself. Also, a “geyser” at the time was a common household device for heating water, here “polished up” for display in the store. See also first note to .36. 497.35-6: “tintanambulating to himself:” probably tinnitus; see 74.11 and note, 180.28 and note. 497.35: “protemptible:” pro tem 497.36: “silfrich:” self-righteous. Compare 137.34. Also (see first note to .35) silver-rich, perhaps self-rich (though the latter certainly did not apply to (“German” (.35)) Kaiser Wilhelm). 497.36: “J. B. Dunlop:” I don’t know when it started, but at some point in movies of the first half of the 20th century “J.B.” had come to automatically signify the boss of a company. (This was why Archibald MacLeish’s 1958 play about a modern-day Job was entitled J.B.) As head of the rubber tire firm, a Dunlop sometimes features in FW as its resident magnate. (Be it noted that the Dunlop in question, John Boyd Dunlop, really was a J. B.) 498.1: “of ourish times:” of our (Irish) times 498.1: “swanks of French wine Stuarts:” the Stuart pretenders often made France their home base. Also, “swanks of” as (inspired) collective noun for wine stewards, like “pride of lions” and “exaltation of larks.” 498.2: “Tudor keepsakes:” given context, probably “keep“ as in castle keep 498.3-4: “Legerleger riding lapsaddlelonglegs up the oakses staircase:” horse-riding onomatopoeia: compare “Wandering Rocks:” “outsiders leaping, leaping in their, in their saddles.” Also, the Saint Leger, an annual race in Doncaster, England, mentioned in “Circe.” Also, there are several accounts, real or legendary, of dashing horsemen galloping up the staircase. (That it should be sidesaddle and “muleback” (.3, .4) certainly detracts some from the romance.) 498.4-5: “Isteroprotos, hindquarters to the fore:” as McHugh notes, hysteron proteron, rhetorical device of putting the latter term first. Horse-wise, “hindquarters to the fore” corresponds. 498.5-6: “handygrabbed on to his trulley:” trolley passengers held on with handgrips. Compare 183.32, 535.13. 498.6: “trulley natural anthem: Horsibus, keep your tailyup:” there were horse-drawn trolleys before the electrified kind. For the driver of such a trolley, this anthem would come naturally. 498.7: “fhroneroom:” German Fröner, serf. Combined with overtone of “throne,” coinciding contraries 498.7-8: “Oldloafs Buttery:” Old Bailey. Also (a loaf of) bread and butter 498.8-9: “Orange and Betters:” Oxford editors and McHugh have “Bitters.” Orange and bitters, a cocktail 498.10-1: “Antepummelites P.P.:” Joyce considered (parish) priests, p. p.’s, to have been Parnell’s enemies – that is, anti-Parnellites. 498.12: “Ensigning:” Ensign 498.13: “gemmynosed sanctsons:” compare “jameymock farceson” (James MacPherson) of 423.1. Also, Jimmy Joyce, perhaps including the star at the end of his nose included, by Joyce’s request, in his portrait by César Abin. 498.14: “epheud and ordilawn:” matched with ephod (McHugh: “Jewish priestly garment”) – bishop’s sleeves are traditionally made of lawn. So: ceremonial clothing for the two “gemmynosed sanctsons” (.13), rabbi and priest. Also, as Glasheen notes, Lords Iveagh and Ardilaun, sons of Sir Arthur Guinness, probably as Glasheen suggests, doubling as Noah’s sons, with the Guinness magnate as “Noah Beery” (64.33). 498.16: “boom companions:” fair-weather friends. “Boom:” time of prosperity 498.19: “sopped down by:” counterpart to “washed down by:” solid food (bread) to go with drink 498.20: “kned her dough:” kneaded dough for bread at Kennedy’s bakery 498.22: “herobit of him:” every bit of him 498.23-4: “Dodderick Ogonoch Wrack:” (doddering) Daniel O’Connell, a wreck. The salutations of 499.4-13 – he is dead, dying, murdered, reduced to excrement – will confirm. 498.27-8: “in the foregiftness of his sons:” Apostle’s Creed: “the forgiveness of sins.” Also, end of “Ecce Puer:” “O, Father forsaken, forgive your son.” Also, God forgiving humanity by request of his son: “Father, forgive them.” Also, expression: “in the gift of” (for instance) the squire: something the squire has the power to bestow, for instance an ecclesiastical office 498.29: “ludmers chain:” in some versions, London was originally “Lud’s Town.” Here is its Lord Mayor, with his chain. 498.31-2: “the spectrem of his prisent mocking the candiedights of his dadtid:” “candidus” is from Latin for white. A variation on FW’s foundational trope, that the rainbow’s spectrum is a fracturing of sunlight’s white. As McHugh notes, includes a paradoxical combination of nighttime’s candle-lights with (“dadtid”) daytime. Also, with “spectrem” as “spectre,” perhaps a jaded assessment of what the hopes of youthful candidacy have come to. The “candiedights” are the “dozen and one tilly tallows round in ringcampf” (.24-5). 498.32: “dadtid:” dated. Time past, paired with (“prisent”) present 498.34-5: “with his buttend up, expositoed:” his butt-end is both exposed and (buttoned up) not. See next entry. 498.35-6: “bulgy and blowrious, bunged:” his arse. Compare the flatulent Bella Cohen in “Circe:” “This bung’s about to burst,” “also “bung goes the enemay (352.10) – enema. For “bulgy,” compare ALP’s “bulgic…barge” (204.9). 499.1: “rouseruction of his bogey:” Zurich’s Böögg (various spellings), burned every spring – therefore, it would follow, resurrected every year 499.2: “turned up:” as in turned-up collar; goes with “buttend up” of 498.35 499.4: “gaff for:” gaffer: old man. Occurs in “Circe” 499.5: “tripping a trepas:” three-foot or three-step. A number of dances, including the waltz, have been called “three-step.” “Tripping” comes from Milton’s “tripping the light fantastic,” popularly used in society-page accounts of dances. 499.5: “neniatwantyng:” McHugh glosses as twenty-nine – thus an allusion to FW’s leap-year girls. Where to draw the lines may be arguable, but after this there follows a series of epithets, each one, two, or three words in length, each punctuated with an exclamation mark. Starting with “Mulo Mulelo!,” immediately following “neniatwantyng,” and ending with “Mamor!,” they number twenty-nine. 499.6: “deady O!:” Daddy-O, a slangy American form of address, dates from the early twentieth century. Will be followed with other recognizable versions of Father and Mother 499.7: “Muerther:” murder, mother 499.8-9: “Thou Thaunaton!” perhaps “Thou Jonathan,” with an overtone of Greek Thanatos, death. David laments Jonathan’s death; the usual version of his words is “O Jonathan!.” Would go with next words, “Umartir!” – that is (as McHugh notes) “You martyr!” 499.10-11: “See ah See!:” C-A-C!” – Shit! 499.11: “Hamovs! Hemoves!” the first (see McHugh): Death! The second: “He moves!” Either coinciding contraries or simple contradiction. Given sounding of (“Funnycoon’s Wick” (.13)), may be moment when Finnegan “rises.” 499.11-2: “donal aye in dolmeny:” Glasheen lists this as a possible reference to Dan Donnelly, a champion Irish prizefighter of the early 19th century. See note to .22. 499.13-4: “But…keying!:” Yawn speaking 499.13: “ – But there’s leps of flam in Funnycoon’s Wick:” the candle’s wick still sends up leaps of flame. (In Portrait, chapter two, Stephen remembers a fire as “leaping and dancing.”) Perhaps what Stephen in “Proteus” remembers the “ghostcandled” room of his dead mother; its purpose was to keep ghosts away. A funny coon would be a comedian in a blackface minstrel show, or more generally, as in “Hades,” any worthless person. 499.14-5: “The keyn has passed. Lung lift the keying!:” Arrah na Pogue passing of Arrah’s key to prisoner; as noted before, Joyce changes the story, perhaps by combining Arrah’s written message with the key Houdini’s wife was suspected of sometimes passing to her husband with a kiss. Also, a new pope assuming power of the key(s). Also, lung-powered keening for the dead. Also, “key” as verb means to lock or unlock. (I’m not sure what, but in the next few pages something will definitely get loose.) 499.15: “God save you king!:” Response to “keying!” (.14). Also, “God Save the King” chorus that was left unfinished at 498.36-499.1 499.16-8: “God…Fudd?:” Yawn speaking 499.16-7: “I had four in the morning and a couple of the lunch and three later on:” drinks, that is. Would explain 515.26: “I was drunk all last life.” Compare next entry. 499.18: “do ye Finnk. Fime. Fudd?:” Do you think I’m fuddled? “Fuddled” occurs in “Oxen of the Sun;” Eric Partridge defines is as “stupidly tipsy.” 499.20: “coddlin your supernumerary leg:” compare “middle leg” in “Circe.” “Third leg” is a common term for the penis, especially an unusually large one. To coddle it would perhaps be to stroke it, in masturbation. “Coddlin,” as codpiece, fits the pattern. 499.21-2: “like a muck in a market:” Brewer:” “driving pigs to market. Said of one who is snoring, because the grunt of a pig resembles the snore of a sleeper.” The context confirms: Yawn is “like a sleepingtop” (.25) setting up “zounds of sounds” (.27), and continues to make snore-like repetitive noises, for instance “Whoishe whoishe whoishe whoishe” (.35-6) and “Zinzin. Zinzin” (500.5, etc.). 499.22: “Sorley Boy:” as McHugh notes, an allusion to Sorley Boy MacDonnell, Scots-Irish clan leader who successfully resisted English policy under Elizabeth I. Probably a response to “donal aye in dolmeny” (.11-2) – see note. Also, in same auditory territory as Daniel O’Connell (498.23) and Dan Donnelly (.11-2). 499.22: “repeating yurself:” as he certainly was for the length of .4-13 499.23: “altknoll:” compare “the knoll Asnoch” (476.06). Mink identifies as the Hill of Uisneach, traditionally “regarded as the geographical cen[ter] of Ire[land],” and adds: “Called Umbilicus Hiberniae by Giraldus Cambrensis…In anc[ient] times, the Hill of U[isneach] was the site of the May Day Bealtaine Festival, a fire ceremony.” (For the fires, see 501.21-7.) 499.25: “sleepingtop:” sleeping top:” a spinning top in which the vertical axis is perpendicular to the surface, and the top is not traveling in any direction. The term occurs in accounts of children’s games of the time. 499.28: “Oliver!:” response to “ollaves” (.25). Echo of both Roland’s companion Oliver and Roland’s horn, Oliphant. 499.28-9: “Was that a groan or did I hear the Dingle bagpipes:” whether or not bagpipes were being heard at 495.3 (see note), they are, here: bagpipes being squeezed do in fact, at the start, sound like some kind of groan. Presumably they come from the (onomatopoetic) “zounds of sounds” Yawn just promised (or threatened). “Zounds” is a contraction of “His [Christ’s] wounds;” Matthew will reply (see McHugh) with a quotation from Christ on the night before his crucifixion (.30), to be followed by a catalogue of bleeding heart, low-laid head, open hand, and wounded foot (.30-1), then, as in “I thirst,” a cry for “Usque!” – water. (Also Finnegan’s whiskey.) So: Yawn is becoming Jesus. (“Usque” is also, probably, a response to “altknoll”/Asnoch /Uisneach (see .23 and note); “Bleating Hart” is both the (still) beating heart and the popular image of Jesus displaying his Sacred Heart.) 499.29: “Wasting war and? Watch!:” Watch and Ward 499.31: “Lowlaid Herd! Aubain Hand!:” head laid low, open hand. In “Ivy Day in the Committee Room,” Joseph Hynes’ poem says that Parnell’s enemies “laid him low.” Parnell will be a conspicuous presence in the next two pages. 499.34: “mound:” again, Asnoch/Uisneach. See .23 and note. 499.34: “tell us:” Tellus, the earth. This begins the passage where they are receiving signals, chiefly radio signals, from all around the world. As remarked before, this was at least notionally possible at the time. The speaker has just asked (.33-4) whether the confusion of voices coming in, amid static, are experiencing interference from thunder and lightning, or is it just to the planet’s regular “moving mound” (.34) moving around – precession, natation, syzygy. 499.35: “Whoishe whoishe whoishe woishe:” response to “Usque! Usque! Usque!” (.31-2). Also, Shakespeare’s “Who is Sylvia, what is she?” 499.35: “linking in:” response to “Lignum in…” (.32). “Linking” (but not, apparently, “linking in”) is and was a short-wave radio term for making a connection. Pages 500-1: Oxford editors: “500.5, 6, 7, 9, 13, 17, 19, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 501.1, 3: no dialogue dashes, no indents.” Would make for a dramatic difference in how this sequence (500.5-501.5) comes across. 500.1: “manalive:” monolith 500.2: “thimbles and bodkins:” the Thimble and Bodkin Army of the English Civil War was so named because of contributions from women, who gave their thimbles and bodkins to the parliamentary cause. (The term, coined by the royalists, was intended to be dismissive.) I suggest that this is a response to Yawn’s “ollaves” (499.26): the army’s commander was Oliver Cromwell, a name feared and detested in Ireland, which shows up at .6, followed by sounds of slaughter and agony. Also, overtone of Thomas á Becket 500.3: “Whu’s within?:” “Who’s within?” occurs frequently in Shakespeare’s plays, usually asking who is inside a house. Perhaps another response to or continuation of “Whoishe” (499.35) 500.6: “Crum:” O Hehir glosses this as “Krum,” name of an ancient idol overthrown by Saint Patrick. 500.10: “O, widows and orphans, it’s the yeomen!:” “Yeomen” in Irish history are primarily remembered as the Castle volunteers who helped suppress the uprising of 1798. Tradition has it that they were exceptionally ruthless and that their victims included women and children. From the other side, of course, this cry would have been an expression of relief – the yeomen to the rescue! 500.12: “roedeer…white hind:” follow-through on .10-11’s summoning of War of (red vs. white) Roses 500.12-3: “slots, linklink:” “Lotus Eaters:” “two sluts that night in the Coombe, linked together.” Compare 442.25. 500.13: “the hound hunthorning:” from “The Ballad of Chevy Chase:” “to drive the deer with hound and horn” 500.13: “linklink…Title! Title!:” perhaps with admixture of “Zinzin” (.4, .9), “linklink” continues “Lignum in”/”linking in” (499.32, 35) strain. As i. i. – T. T. exchange, this represents yet another signal from Issy/Iseult to Tristan/Tristram. Also asking for the real title of this book, at the time called Work in Progress, sounded at 497.3 as “warping process.” At 501.2, the request will be to “Tell your title?” (Joyce played this guessing game throughout most of the book’s composition.) The first answers given (.14-6) are versions of the names of popular newspapers. The most frequent, and probably closest to the mark, is some version of “Iseult.” That the session is abruptly shut down at 501.6 may be because the answers were getting too close. (“Funnycoon’s Wick” (499.13) was the nearest approximation of the book ‘s title until the almost-perfect “Finnegan’s Wake” of 607.16.) 500.14-6: “Christ in our irish times! Christ on the airs independence! Christ hold the freedman’s chareman! Christ light the dully expressed:” see McHugh. Although The Freeman’s Journal supported Parnell until the Kitty O’Shea scandal, in Joyce’s time all four of these newspapers were Unionist. The mayhem in this sequence is general, but most of it seems to come from those in power. 500.14: “on the airs:” an ongoing radio broadcast was “on the air,” a term which showed up in introduction to programs; for instance the Duke Ellington radio show began with the words, “The Duke is on the air!” 500.17: “sluaghter:” Gaelic sluagh can mean either “people” or “army.” According to at least one version, sluaghter is Gaelic for “field of battle.” 500.17: “Rape the daughter!:” soldiers raping daughters before the eyes of their parents is a recurring fact of war at its most vicious, and civil wars are, reputedly, exceptionally vicious. 500.17-8: “Choke the pope!:” something one might hear from a Cromwellian soldier 500.19: “Cloudy father!:” as a variant of “heavenly father,” a reaction to “pope” (.18) 500.21-2: “Sold!...sold!:” throughout most of history, soldiers and citizens of a defeated cause, when not slaughtered, have often been sold into slavery. 500.21: “Sold!:” completes “Y?” of 477.31: Ysold 500.24: “Fort! Fort! Bayroyt! March!:” The Bayreuth Wagner Festival became an official Nazi event in 1933; before then it had been a center of Nazi gatherings, which would invariably have included marches. As McHugh notes, “Bereit, marsch!” is a German military command: “Ready, march!” Since the company here is listening to a radio capable of receiving far-flung signals from “forain counties” (.35-6) and countries, this may be the sound of a broadcast (or, more likely, re-broadcast) from a rally in Bayreuth. Given context, it seems pertinent that fort is German for “lost.” 500.25: “I’m true.” “I’m through:” an expression commonly used to tell the telephone operator that you have gotten through to the other party; hence “Hello!” of .36. (As of 1962, Sylvia Plath, born in 1932, still remembered it and used it for the end of “Daddy.”) Also, under extreme duress, he’s promising that he’s true to Ysold/Isolde, his love. 500.27: “Brinabride,” as sailor’s girl, Ysold/Issy is several times (e.g. 399.3) presented as a bride of the brine. Also, perhaps, Linabrides, a sometimes idealized type of mistress. 500.30: “Brinabride, my price!:” bride price: money paid by groom or his family for the bride 500.33: “Mother of my tears!:” Mater Dolorosa, Our Lady of Sorrows. As McHugh notes, the following words echo those of the crucified Jesus to Mary. 500.35-6: “forain counties:” foreign counties: a legal term for jurisdictions other than the present one: applicable, for instance, to questions of trial venue. 501.2: “Tell your title?:” operator asking for identification. Since this follows the last (.1) of a string of “Zinzin”s, it seems a good bet that the sound has been of a telephone’s ring, now ended as the receiver or handset is taken off the hook to answer the call. Also, again - guessing the title of Work in Progress 501.4: “Am I thru’ Iss? Miss? True?:” 1. “Thru’ iss:” as in “Tristan.” “Miss” would be an address to the telephone operator, always a woman, asking whether you have gotten through to the person at the other end of the phone call. Oxford editors have “True?” as a separate paragraph. 2. The critical moment in seances was when the “control,” the voice from the dead, came “through,” taking over the voice of the medium, usually female. Questions like “Am I through?” or “Are you through?” were sometimes part of the act. FW often entertains the widespread belief of the time that modern electronic communications – telegraph, radio, and, here, telephone – could enable paranormal connections. Guglielmo Marconi believed that his invention of radio could transmit voices from the dead, and the radio broadcasts of II.3 sometimes seem to confirm. 501.6: “SILENCE:” the operator has made the connection, temporarily silencing the speaker before (with “Hello” (.8)) he can ascertain that he has gotten through. Also, see next entry. During scene changes, there is no dialogue. 501.6: “Act drop. Stand by! Blinders! Curtain up. Juice, please! Foots!:” see McHugh. This line constitutes the “justajiff siesta” (.10), the brief – in a jiffy – break while the curtain is down and the scenery is being changed. 501.8: “Cigar shank and Wheat:” “Segur cinquante huite:” like “Gobelins quarante quinze” (.9). Early speculations that these phone numbers might have been Joyce’s and/or belonging to someone in his Paris circle were apparently wrong. Still, the venue has been temporarily shifted from Ireland, where FW is set, to Paris, where it was written. The two parties at either end of the telephone line are confirming that the operator made the right connection. 501.11-2: “by our soundings in the swish channels:” possibly a play on old jokes about the Swiss Navy, the point being that landlocked Switzerland doesn’t have one, nor any channels or other bodies of water of a depth comparable to “Challenger’s Deep” (.11). 501.12: “soundings:” most obviously, determining the depth of the water; also, the quality of sound coming through as (back to the radio), turning the dial, he tries to get on the right wavelength. Modern communications technologies, telephone and radio, are being conflated, possibly (see next entry) along with the very latest, television. 501.12: “swish channels:” switch channels? OED says that originally the term applied to both radio and television. 501.12-3: “A truce to demobbed swarwords:” again (compare 478.25), “A truce to” means “Let’s put an end to.” Although not swearwords in the common sense of blasphemous or obscene, the language leading up to this (499.30-501.5) was full of oaths and imprecations (“Rape the daughter! Choke the pope!” (500.17-8)) of the kind one might expect from soldiers during conflict. To be “demobbed” is to be mustered out of the army. Soldiers and sailors were of course notorious for their bad language. General sense: now that you’re a civilian, watch your mouth. Also, see next entry: the order is to “clear” the line of all aural interference, presumably including “swar-” (svar, answer) words. 501.13: “Clear the line, priority call!:” a direction to anyone on a “party line,” as most telephones were at the time. As best I can determine, a “priority call” would have been for emergencies only and would have meant that any activity likely to cause interference should cease. All Googleable examples involve the military or police. I cannot make out the mechanics and procedure involved, but both seem to have changed over the years, and to have little in common with the telephone service offered today by that name. 501.14: “Sybil Head this end! Better that way? Follow the baby spot:” exchange between ship and shore. Sybil Head is a promontory in Dingle, mentioned (499.29) before the noisy interlude now being dismissed. (Dingle also appeared at 399.3-4: “O, come all ye sweet nymphs of Dingle beach to cheer Brinabride queen from Sybil surfriding.”) In Joyce’s time Sybil Head had an observation tower on the coast which was visible from sea and featured in navigational directions. Here, Joyce seems to present it as having a two-way radio (or radio-telephone) for guiding navigators, perhaps also a searchlight able to throw a lighted “spot” on the water for sailors to follow. (Neither in fact was a feature of Sybil Head.) 501.15: “We are again in the magnetic field:” applicable in four ways: 1. Hypnotism (476.7-8), sometimes called animal magnetism, was, according to its theorists, a kind of magnetic influence; 2. & 3. Both radio and telephone involved electro-magnetism; both were subject to magnetic influence; 4. The sailor’s compass is magnetized. 501.17: “Moisten your lips for a lightning strike:” Compare 28.11-2: “Her lips would moisten once again” if the man would speak to her in a winning way. In both cases – the earlier one is two lines away from a pun on “pussy” – a sexual dimension is present: “lips” both as lips about to be kissed (compare 104.4-5) and as labia, moistening. (Also, compare 106.4-5.) Also, wetness increases the chance that lightning will strike – an analogous way (see .15 and note) of making a connection between one point and another 501.18: “flickers:” see preceding. Summer lightning is sometimes described as flickering. 501.19: “Well:” yes, it’s better - an answer to (.18) the question, “Better so?” 501.21: “somewhave:” somewhere on the (waves) water 501.21: “its specific:” whether or not (see McHugh) this includes an overtone of “Pacific,” the response at 502.10 will think so. 501.22-3: “Lesscontinuous. There were fires on every bald hill in holy Ireland that night:” taking .19-20 as an interruption, he wants to get back to the subject, for him, at hand, that “particular lukesummer night” (.16). 501.23, 25: “Better so?:” “That clear?:” both are asking if the reception is any better now. Perhaps also a continuation of (see .14 and note) navigational back-and-forth. 501.24: “You may say they were, son of a cove!:” like “son of a gun.” “Cove” was English slang meaning approximately the same as “fellow” – an informally matey word for someone. Yawn is succumbing to the second half of a bad cop - good cop routine here. His interrogator – as McHugh says, probably the sloothery Mark – is much less abrasive than Matthew, and, consciously or not, Yawn is responding in kind, but it will turn out to be a trick: this interrogator is as much out to get him as all the rest. At 502.10-1 he will return to the question, about the moon, which caught the witness during the trial of Book I (see 88.3 and note) as it will this time around (519.16-25). 501.28: “white night:” a night that never gets completely dark. Occurs in northern latitudes around midsummer (.16). Equally-oppositely, will soon flip-flop to Christmas time, with its “carol”s (.36), the whiteness of “littlewinter snow” (502.2) instead of midsummer light. 501.32: “andeanupper:” Andean: referring to Andes Mountains; Himalayas will follow at 502.4-5. Both, unlike the “every bald hill” of .22, are snow-covered. See 502.4 and note. 502.3: “jesse?:” yes? 502.4: “the nicest of all:” appropriately for the wintry setting, “ice” is imbedded in “nicest.” Perhaps overtone of: the iciest of all 502.6-7: “jusse as they rose and sprungen:” response to “jesse” (.3). McHugh notes that this is an allusion to the German carol “Es is ein Ros entsprungen.” It celebrates Jesus as a rose sprung from the root of Jesse. As with “Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht” (.10) and other carols in this sequence, the setting is winter. (McHugh also proposes changing and moving some of the words here; Oxford editors do not.) 502.10: “Peace, Pacific!:” response to “its specific” (501.21). Probably pertinent that the English version of “Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,” which appears in the next line, concludes with “Sleep in heavenly peace.” 502.11: “whether Muna, that highlucky nackt, was shining at all?:” compare 88.3-4, and see note to 501.24. 502.16…17: “Latearly…”latterlig:” from “-tear-“ in “Latearly” to Danish Latterlig, laughable: either equal opposites or a completely mistaken (or sarcastic) response 502.17: “soon calid, soon frozen:“ Matthew 22:14: “Many are called, but few are chosen.” May be relevant that Anglicans – Episcopalians, in America – have sometimes been called “God’s frozen people.” (In any case, it’s winter.) 502.18-9: “bruma airsighs:” Brumaire: month of French Republican Calendar: late October to late November. Brume means foggy – the “mistandew” of 501.36, “smother of fog” of .22. 502.20: “hellstohns and flammballs:” hailstones and balls of flame: equal opposites, mediated by “hell” in the former 502.20: “flammballs:” included in this list of extreme weather phenomena, may be what is usually called “ball lightning” 502.22: “Hail many:” “Hail” is response to “hellstohns” (.20), “many” perhaps to “everybody” (.21). 502.23: “so plays your ahrtides:” so please your…: expression completed by word such as “grace” or “honor.” Signals deferential address to authority, for instance a judge. Long shot: “ahrtides” may refer to Aristides, famously “just” Athenian judge. Also, perhaps a response to “airsighs” (.18-9) 502.23-4: “Absolutely boiled. Obsoletely cowled.” Compare 318.31 – a Brunonian example of coinciding contraries – boiled and cold, when one can feel like its opposite. As a monk, Bruno wore a cowl, a feature of his statue in Rome. Possible reference to absolute zero, mentioned in “Ithaca” 502.23: “Absolutely boiled:” totally drunk. (Delirium tremens (delugium stramens” (.30)) will follow. 502.24: “Julie and Lulie at their parkiest:” the two girls of the park scene 502.24: “parkiest:” perkiest 502.26: “formous:” foremost 502.30: “rimey feeling:” besides meaning frost-covered, “rimey” includes archaic spelling of “rhyme.” At .32-3, rhymes follow. 502.31: “sire season:” perhaps, given context, spring (here, early spring, when the fields are still rimey in the morning) – the mating season, when a young man feels like writing love rhymes. Again, .32-3 will rime/rhyme. 502.32: “Desire, for hire, would tire a shire:” McHugh gives “shire horse” – a “powerful draught horse” – for “shire,” and the next line concludes with “mares.” I suggest that one sense is that being a stud for hire would be exhausting, even for an exceptionally sturdy stallion. 502.33: “wire:” telegraph 502.34: “Of whitecaps any?:” response to “mares” (.33), by way of Latin mare, the sea 502.36: “lambskip:” proverbially, lambs skip/jump/frolic etc. in the spring. 502.36: “Paronama!:” a long shot here: given the recent efforts at guessing the book’s title, and the word before this – “Finglas” – I suggest that, with “Paro-“ heard as “Para-,” “Paronama” can be translated as Almost-named. 502.36: “Paronama! The entire horizon cloth!:” see McHugh. According to an 1899 issue of The British Architecht, a “Panorama Horizon Cloth” is for “sky and distant effects” on the stage - the (“joints caused ways” (503.1) Giant’s Causeway, for instance, or even (“starey sphere” (503.5)) the starry stratosphere. Switching second “o” with first “a,” close to a hyperbolic “Paranormal!” about the special effects on display 503.2-3: “But thundersheet? - No here. Under the blunkets:” Perhaps obvious: normally, a sheet goes under the blankets. Also, following “windmachine, snowbox,” probably a play on “thunderbox,” slang for portable toilet (see 314.28-9 and note) – flatulence under the sheets plus echo effect 503.4: “common or garden:” would normally be completed by “variety of flower:” Occurs in this sense in “Wandering Rocks.” 503.4: “stilller:” according to Oxford editors, should be “stiller” 503.5: starey sphere:” stratosphere, with stars 503.5-6: “oleotorium for broken pottery and ancient vegetables:” in other words, garbage, which would (see McHugh on “oleotorium,” by analogy with auditorium) smell. 503.8: “kikkinmidden:” Bonheim glosses “kikkin-“ as Kücken, chick – a link to the kitchen midden where Biddy the hen first dug up the letter. 503.10-11: “Ealdermann Fanagan…Junkermenn Funagin:” besides Adam and Eve, the “illassorted first couple” was first an older, then a younger, man/men/meeting Finnegan. Probably a memory of the park encounter of Book I. Given the kitchen-midden trash in the vicinity, “Junkermenn” includes junk-man/junk-men. 503.12: “W. K.:” McHugh has this as a response to the question about the “wellknown kikkinmidden” (.8). Since the “k” in “wellknown” would be silent, this makes sense; since it seems to be addressed to the questioner, it suggests that the answerer is taking those words as the questioner’s name. 503.13-5: “Fingal too they met at Littlepeace aneath the bidetree, Yellowhouse of Snugsborough, Westreeve-Astagob and Slutsend with Stockins of Winning’s Folly Merryfalls:” as Mink and McHugh note, all the place-names except for “Yellowhouse” are within Dublin’s Fingal area, which also includes Howth, the site of the Bloom picnic remembered at the end of Ulysses and (623.3-33) the destination of the picnic in prospect at the end of FW, therefore likely location of picnic scraps unearthed along with the letter by Biddy, near the book’s beginning. 503.13: “bidetree:” Buddha’s Bodhi tree 503.15: “all of a two:” that is, “the illassorted couple” (.9) 503.18: “four last winds:” echo of Christ’s “seven last words” 503.22: “It is woful in need:” response to “Woful Dane Bottom” (.21): it is woeful indeed. He will go on to be categorical: everything under the sun, or at least the Irish sun, is awful – even Ireland’s celebrated green is really (“gan greyne” (.23)) gangrene. 503.23: “grianblachk sun:” aside from three stages of glaucoma, the Irish flag, a “tricolour ribbon” (.24) of green, blanc, and (sun-colored) gold. (Compare 176.24: “grim white and cold.”) 503.23: “gan greyne Eireann:” according to O Hehir, in Gaelic means: without the sun of Ireland. Juxtaposed with “under the…sun,” an FW coinciding-contraries. 503.26-7: “The flagstone. By tombs, deep and heavy. To the unaveiling memory of. Peacer the grave:” still gloomy, a sardonic response to “The old [Irish] flag, the cold flag:” flag to flagstone, flagstone as tombstone, the inscription, instead of unavailingly memorializing his unfailing memory, mercilessly unveiling the story on who lies within. Still, peace to his grave 503.28-9: “Peacer…Woodin:” stone (see McHugh) and (wooden) tree. The tree turns out to be (504.35) Yggdrasil. 503.29: “Trickspissers will be pairsecluded:” again, rumors of the park scandal regularly include a pair of girls, pissing. Here, a warning that they will be prosecuted/persecuted for pissing on the grave 503.30: “There used to be a tree stuck up? An overlisting eshtree?:” note apparent contradiction: everlasting, but it “used to be” around. I suggest that this and the following conflate two traditions, that of the eternal Yggdrasil, holding up the heavens, and of Irminsul, in one version (there are many) the sacred ash of Thor which was cut down by order of Charlemagne in 753 as part of his program of forced Christianization. (“Eshtree”/ashtray tells us that it was burned on the spot.) Contemporary scholarship speculated that the two were related or identical. Oxford editors insert “there” after “tree.” 503.32: “Oakley Ashe’s elm:” as identified by Glasheen, Annie Oakley 503.32: “snoodrift:” “the snood / That is the sign of maidenhood” – Joyce, “Bid Adieu to Girlish Ways.” As traditional headdress for nuns, (snow) white. Here, also a patch of snow hanging on one of the tree’s “bough”s after all the winter weather; before then the tree was “reignladen” (.34) rain-laden. 503.33-4: “grawndest crowndest consecrated maypole:” maypoles are traditionally given a “crown” – usually a wreath of flowers – by the Queen of the May. Also, Ibsen’s Solness falls from a steeple when placing a wreath over its spire. 503.36: “burqued:” birched (whipped or caned); burked (killed and sold to medical school for dissection) 504.1: “our lecture is its leave:” the leaves of a book, for reading. Compare 628.6. 504.2: “Squiremade and damesman of plantagenets:” continues double sense of “reignladen” tree (503.34): plants and the royal family, which according to one version got its name from a plant. Squire and dames: compare Bloom’s “Circe” fantasy as a “squire of dames.” 504.3: “wren:” response to “cran” (.1) – which is in turn a distortion of “wren” in the song: see McHugh 504.14: “Remounting aliftle:” flying upward, achieving (a little) liftoff 504.14: “ouragan of spaces:” Malay ourang, man: as in “orangutan” – member of the simian species of Darwinian (Origin of Species) evolution 504.15: “cardinal rounders:” cardinal numbers, round numbers. “Solve it!” (.13) was in sense of solving a math problem. 504.15-6: “sir Arber:’ Siddhartha (Gautama), under his (“Arber”) tree. See note to 503.13. 504.16: “avis on valley:” Amos and Andy, phenomenally popular radio program. According to his friend Mme. Maria Jolas, at night Joyce listened "to what he used to call the Transatlantic clowns over the National Broadcasting Company." Amos and Andy was broadcast over NBC and was by far the most popular comedy of the time. (The talkers are returning to the business of tuning into the right radio station.) See .20-1 and note. 504.17: “burble:” to utter nonsense. Portmanteau word invented by Lewis Carroll 505.17-8: “without too much italiote interfairance, what you know in petto:” I suggest that, especially given the setting (conclave, cardinals), McHugh’s gloss as in petto di, Italian for “in the name of,” is less likely here than simply in petto, meaning “in secret,” a phrase with distinct Vatican connotations: several internet identifications say it is “used of the names of cardinals designate,” or words to that effect. Second to Latin, the language at a conclave would likely be Italian. Compare entry for “O dite!”, line 19. 504.18: “interfairance:” interference on the radio from other stations adjacent on the dial, in this case from a broadcast from Italy, the “burble” sound (.17) being an example 504.19: “Tonans Tomazeus:” T.T.: another Tristan signature. Perhaps also Thomas Aquinas, whose works, in a cardinals’ conclave, would naturally be considered on questions of the “sovereign beingstalk” (see next entry), and who wrote influentially on the subject of God’s “Imminence” (.19-20), immanence. Also, see McHugh: the tree right now is an oak, the “sovereign beingstalk” or kind of trees, sacred to Jove the Thunderer. 504.19: “sovereign beingstalk:” conversation about God, the Sovereign Being. Again, to be expected at a conclave. 504.19: “O dite!:” as McHugh notes, Italian for “O say!” “Audite!” would be Latin single second-person imperative for Hear!. “Odite!” would be Latin plural second-person imperative for Hate! The response, “Udi, Udite!,” would be Italian for Hear! Hear! Again, the Latin of the Vatican conclave is getting a lot of “italiote interfairance” (.18), from the fact that most of the cardinals present, like all the popes for a very long time, are Italian. 504.20-1: “Corcor Andy, Udi, Udite! Your Ominence, Your Imminence and delicted fraternitrees!:” again (see note to .16), I take this as coming from a broadcast of Amos and Andy, garbled by radio interference. The program often featured meetings of “that great fraternity, the Mystic Knights of the Sea,” whose members were sometimes described as “eminent.” 504.21: “delicted:” delinquent 504.21: “queensmaids:” queen of the May. See 503.34-5 and note. 504.22…24: “Idahore…bommptaterre:” not likely a coincidence that Idaho should be so close to a pomme de terre, potato. In America, the connection between the two had been established by Joyce’s time. 504.22: “they woody babies:” use of “they” here – either as version of “their” or pronunciation of “the” – would indicate an uneducated speaker. 504.23: “bird flamingans:” a bird flaming (again): the phoenix 504.24-5: “Tyburn:” given context, pertinent that the gallows was called “Tyburn tree.” 504.25: “fenians:” given context, overtone of “felons” 504.25: “quickenbole:” compare “quicken boughs” (275.15) – featured in Druid ceremonies. 504.26-8: “culprines of Erasmus Smith’s burstall boys with their underhand leadpencils climbing to her crotch for the origin of spices:” Oxford editors have “culprinse.” A double-entendre sequence: “cul-” as French for arse; “underhung” as in “hung” in the sexual sense; “lead in the pencil” as slang for an erection (also, compare 3.6, 56.12, and the M’Intosh of “Oxen of the Sun,” who “Thought he had a deposit of lead in his penis”). A tree’s “crotch” is a fork between two branches. The gist may be that the boy culprits (a (“burstall”) borstal is for delinquents) are graduating to heterosexuality after their school days of some pretty rough buggery with one another’s culs. (Joyce’s Portrait was one of the first over-the-counter books to broach the subject of public-school “smugging.”) Also, with Darwin in the vicinity, “underhung” may indicate the prognathic jaw of one of our simian ancestors: in Ulysses, Punch Costello’s prognathic jaw reminds Bloom of Darwin’s missing link. Also OED has “prine” as archaic English for Latin prinus, evergreen oak. Latin “Erasmus” traces from the Greek for “to love.” 504.27-8: “for the origin of spices and charlotte darlings with silk blue askmes:” Spices typically come from trees and silk from mulberry trees – two major reasons for trade-driven European exploration, both eastward and westward 504.28: “silk blue askmes:” blue come-hither eyes. (Nora Barnacle had blue eyes. See 584.4 and note. Molly Bloom "asked him with my eyes to ask again.") 504.31: “catastripes:” cat-o-nine-tails, a whip causing wounds called “stripes” 504.31-2: “killmaimthem pensioners:” retired old soldiers (see McHugh) were once in the business of killing and maiming. 504.32: “cucking overthrown milestones up to her to fall her cranberries and her pommes annettes:” throwing rocks to knock the fruit out of the trees. (Hard to believe that Joyce thought that cranberries, which come from bogs, including Irish bogs, grew on trees.) 504.33: “refection:” as in refectory: the fruit and food just mentioned is for them to eat. 504.36-505.1: “the sun and moon pegging honeysuckle and white heather:” sunlight gilds; moonlight whitens. 505.1-2: “timtits tapping resin there and tomahawks watching tar elsewhere:” tomtits tap (to extract insects from bark); hawks watch from on high. Resin is produced by trees, especially pines; pine resin is an ingredient in some tars. 505.3: “for to claw and rub:” for instance cats, using a tree trunk for a scratching and rubbing post 505.5: “pinecorns:” pinecones 505.5-6: “plantitude outsends of plenty to thousands:” “twenty and two thousand” is a recurring figure in the Bible. Its first occurrence is in Numbers 3:39: all the male Levites more than a month old “were twenty and two thousand.” Also, overtone of plenitude (of plants) 505.6: “snakedst-tu-naughsy:” “the “naked” in “snakedst” indicates that the dress is daringly revealing: the snake in Eden caused Adam and Eve to see that they were naked, therefore (“naughsy”) naughty. 505.8-10: “such a fashionaping sathinous dress out of that exquisitive creation and her leaves…sinsinsinning since the night of time:” made of leaves, her dress is green now, can turn yellow or brown with age. Compare 200.2-3, where her dress is “of changeable jade that would robe the wood of two cardinals’ chairs” – green, changing color with the seasons, a robe robbed from, made out of, the leaves of two whole trees, with cardinals (birds) for displaced avian dwellers, as red birds (and prelates) illustrating FW’s frequent red-green coinciding-contraries interchange. For other reports on this dress, see 271, fn. 5 and 619.20-29. 505.8: “fashionaping:” aping the fashion. Continues the Darwin thread 505.8: “sathinous:” Satanic. (“Satan” was originally “Sathan.”) Also, satin is made out of silk, made by worms in (mulberry) trees. Compare 504.27-8 and note. 505.9: “exquisitive creation:” aside from exquisite (“exquisite creation” – a gown, in fashion-talk), as McHugh says, inquisitive – here, the tree of knowledge, revealing forbidden truth about God’s Creation. Being inquisitive led to the original sin that required Adam and Eve to start wearing clothes, beginning with (fig) leaves. 505.9-10: “sinsinsinning:” noise of leaves rustling in wind. (Compare sibilant sounds of “The Yews” in “Circe.”) See .11 and note, .17 and note. 505.10: “since the night of time:” as opposed the dawn of time. Presumably night instead because the original “sinsinsinning” has just occurred 505.11: “twisty hands:” Tristan. Also, compare the “Circe” yews, “interlacing” and “mingling their boughs.” 505.13: “from Ond’s outset till Odd’s end:” compare 455.17-8: “presurely destined to be odd’s without ends.” 505.14-5: “exaltated, eximious, extraoldandairy and excelssiorising:” the four (sometimes three) X’s ending ALP’s letter, standing for kisses 505.14-5: “and excelssiorising:” in excelsis 505.16: “trees like angels weeping:” presumably, weeping willows. Follow-through at .30 (“weeping of the daughters”) and then, as response to .30, “treemanangel” (.33) 505.17: “rocked of agues:” those suffering from ague proverbially shiver and totter. Perhaps reflects tree shaking in the wind: compare .10-11. 505.21: “steyne of law indead what stiles its neming:” “stiles:” steles – tall monumental gravestones. “Steyne” [stone] of law,” as a response to “rocked” (.17), indicates a set of laws originally carved in stone, for instance the Ten Commandments. “Neming” echoes both “naming” and “meaning.” “Indead” as in “dead hand” of the past, still restricting the living; Tod, German for death, will follow at .23. 505.23: “Tod, tod, too hard parted:” given context – signs of death, including tombstones, everywhere – I suggest an overtone of “Dear departed,” Bloom’s “Hades” phrase for those buried in the graveyard. Also compare Bloom in “Sirens:” “Cruel it seems. Let people get fond of one another. Then tear asunder.” 505.24: “Finight:” finite 505.27: “pundit:” pending 505.28: “Splanck!:” Speak! 505.29: “Upfellbowm:” McHugh notes the presence of Newton’s apple. Planck’s quantum mechanics may be said to have drastically revised Newton: it turns out that apples can fall up as well as down - in the next two lines, downward motion (of weeping tears) “remounts.” 505.32-3: “looseaffair brimsts of fussforus:” early friction matches were called lucifers. (One appears in “Circe.”) The combustible element in early matches could be phosphorous or sulfur, that is (“brimsts”) brimstone. 505.33-4: “on his soredbohmend because Knockout, the knickknaver, knacked:” expression: knocked on his beam end – to be in serious trouble, like a ship on the verge of capsizing 505.36-506.1: “the presention of crudities to animals:” response to “knickknaver, knacked…knechtschaft” (.34-5). Knackers dealt with the remains of slaughtered animals; the S.P.C.A. (see McHugh) would, presumably, make a point of objecting. 506.1-2: “put his own nickelname on every toad, duck, and herring:” Adam naming the animals, before the fall. Also, before Adam’s nicknaming, God, who as Bloom thinks in “Nausicaa” “Wants to stamp his trademark on everything.” In “Circe,” Stephen thinks of such a trademark as God’s “criminal thumbprint.” 506.2 “the climber clomb aloft:” the snake of Eden, before it loses its legs: climbing up the tree as a “crawler,” it is then condemned to be “aslimed” for the rest of its life (.6-8). 506.2-3: “the midhill of the park:” the tree of life and the tree of knowledge were both “in the midst of the garden.” 506.3: “his bitter hoolft:” Eve, Adam’s “better half.” Compare 452.3 and note. “Bitter,” of course, conveys the opposite. 506.4: “He would let us have the three barrels:” mixes two common shooting expressions: 1. Let them have it; 2. With both barrels. (Though unusual, three-barrel guns, including shotguns, were around at the time.) Satan is a sniper shooting from the top of the tree. Given the “hoose” of the next sentence, it may be pertinent that “Three Barrels” was a popular brand of cognac. 506.5: “hoose:” ‘hootch: Americanism for liquor 506.8: “for the bellance of hissch leif:” as in a life prison term, as proclaimed by God: Adam and Eve as our “Poorparents…sentenced to Worms, Blood and Thunder for Life” (175.9-10). 506.12: “lagged:” arrested 506.12: “Coombe:” at the time, a rundown area of Dublin 506.15-6: “the foerst of our treefellers:” expression: can’t see the forest for the trees. (Or vice-versa.) Also, given Darwinian strain, perhaps the first of our tree-dwelling monkey ancestors 506.16: “treefellers:” trefoils (shamrocks). Also, truffles grow at the bases of trees. See .18 and note. Gladstone is the usual FW tree-feller. 506.17: “fanest:” forest-as-fane (temple) is a recurring conceit in English poetry. 506.17-8: “in the absence of any soberiquiet…Bapsbaps Bomslinger!:” Adam, the “Grand Precursor,” had given all the animals their original and right names, the name for the snake being “crawler” (506.5-6). (This name circulates throughout FW. ALP’s nemesis, McGraw, Magrath, etc. is etymologically derivative.) Since FW combines the Fall of Eden with the destruction of the Tower of Babel, a new name, or new sobriquet, or both, is required. 506.17: “absence of any soberiquiet:” sober and quiet are two things he is not. 506.18: “truefalluses:” perhaps truffles – found at the base of a tree. Also, true fallacies 506.20 “There do be days:” the address to “sir” (.19) notwithstanding, this seems to begin a sequence in which the answers are from a woman – mainly Kate, sometimes blending in with an older ALP and with the washerwomen of I.8. (“Does be” and “do be” are Irish idioms, in both Ulysses and FW usually if not always a sign of lower-class speakers.) By the middle of p. 508, she has faded out. 506.21: “lidging house:” both McHugh and Oxford editors have “lodging house.” Lodging houses were cheap overnight accommodations in which strangers would sometimes share the same bed. 506.21-2: “there do be nights of wet windwhistling when he does be making me onions woup all kinds of ways:” compare, for instance, 201.19-20, 623.3-7. Distant in daylight, when the space between them (Chapelizod and Howth) is visible, hot stuff at night, when he is the (“saywint”) wind from the sea storming up the Liffey’s “ambushure.” Often named some version of “brine” or “briny,” the lover’s sea wind and sea current is salty, like tears, weeping. (Possible overtone of “onion soup,” either salty or being salted.) In a continuation of this dialogue he will be remembered less romantically as a “salt son” and “sealiest old forker” (507.34-6). 506.22: “making me onions woup:” onions make the eyes weep. 506.25: “pippin’s:” in context of the apple tree of Eden: a pippin is an apple, a pip is a seed. She’s scattered the seeds from the tree all over, and they’ve “cropped up” to produce fruit that (see McHugh) like sour grapes, sets the teeth of the next generation on edge. 506.25: “pippin’s…tooth:” two i’s, two t’s – FW’s usual Morse code exchange between Iseult and Tristram. 506.26: “thornyborn:” as in Wordsworth’s “The Thorn,” for an infant to be born (or buried) under a thorn (bramble bush) can be a mark of illegitimacy, perhaps of infanticidal exposure. 506.27: “Concerning a boy:” an exceptionally confusing part of what is in general one of the most confusing patches of FW. No “boy” has been mentioned recently, and the testimony continues to be mainly about a version of the father – “a man of around fifty” (.34). 506.28: “vicariously:” variously 506.32: “Never you mind about my mother or her hopitout:” response to “mehrer” (.24) and “habitat” (.29) 506.33: “admired vice:” response to “take my advice” (.30) 506.34: “struck on:” stuck on – has a crush on; compare 159.12-3. 507.1: “old boy:” in Britain, signifies faithful public school or university alumnus. Compare 624.23: “Wordherfhull Ohldhbhoy!” 507.2: “fishy stare:” more about his salt sea origins. Compare father described at 559.23: “beastly expression, fishy eyes.” Fish don’t blink. 507.6: “the coat on him:” Irish idiom. Compare 197.4. 507.6: “skinside:” writing side of parchment. (Other is “hairside.”) 507.8-9: “the public going for groceries:” see 78.12-3 and note; compare, for instance, 367.2: “his grocery baseness:” the establishment deals in groceries as well as drinks. 507.9-10: “slapping greats and littlegets soundly with his cattegut belts, flapping baresides:” for “greats and “littlegets,” see McHugh. Whipping students, sometimes on the bare skin. “Cattegut:” recalls “catastripes”/cat-o-nine-tails (504.31). A belt, as Stephen testifies in Portrait, chapter one, is a blow, as in “to give a fellow a belt.” 507.11: “in font of the tubbernuckles:” the font is in the front of the (tabernacle) church. 507.12: “longarmed lugh:” lug: a clod or bumpkin, in this case semi-simian 507.13: “Touch him:” in Irish idiom, a “touch” is either sexual intercourse an appeal for a loan or handout. Here, an ironic response to “Toucher ‘Thom’” of 506.28, probably in this sense: “’Toucher?” Well, touch him.” (The next sentence indicates that trying to touch him for a loan would be fruitless.) See next entry. 507.14: “swatmenotting:” “Touch me not:” words spoken by the resurrected Jesus to his mother. (See 509.33, 509.34 and notes.) Another response to “Toucher ‘Thom,’” meaning that the speaker is invariably disinclined to give any financial assistance. “Touch me not” has this sense in “Hades.” 507.15-7: “He has kissed me more than once, I am sorry to say and if I did commit gladrolleries may the loone forgive it! O wait till I tell you!:” again, a female voice, probably Kate’s, blending with the gossipy washerwomen of I.8. 507.16: “gladrolleries:” idolatries 507.19: “And look here!:” recalls the washerwomen of I.8, finding signs of sin on the dirty laundry 507.22: “hottest worked word of ur sprogue. You’re not!:” Erse brogue. Also, Brendan O Hehir identifies “sprogue” as Gaelic barróg, a speech defect. The most overworked word in question is apparently “not,” as in “swatmenotting on the basque of his beret” (.14-5), “We are not going yet” (.18), and, here, “You’re [your] not.” (“Swatmenotting” may include “knot,” as a word for what is variously called the spike, fillet, thingy, etc. on the top of a beret.) 507.22-3: “Unhindered and odd times:” McHugh glosses as 101, but because eleven is an “odd” number, this could also be 111 – the number of ALP’s gifts to her children in I.8 and, as 1 + 1 + 1, the three sides of her FW siglum. 507.24: “Such my billet. Buy a barrack pass:” a billet is military lodging. A barrack pass is written authorization to leave a military outpost. 507.26: “You are alluding to the picking pockets:” that is, the “robbers” (.25), as pickpockets 507.30: “Now, just wash and brush up your memoirias a little bit:” a staple of courtroom drama: “Perhaps this will refresh your memory,” with insinuation that the witness is feigning ignorance. “Wash” is a segue from the washerwoman’s voice back to the prosecutor of the inquisition. 507.31-2: “demented brick thrower:” compare “cemented brick” (59.24). 507.33: “arc of the covenant:” compare .11 and McHugh note: David danced before the Ark of the Covenant, here spelled “arc” to include the rainbow of Noah’s covenant with God. 507.34-5: “salt son of a century…the sealiest old forker:” expressions like “son of a seacook,” dodging ruder language associated with sailors. Again, the FW male lover is often a personification of the salt sea or sea wind, rushing up the freshwater Liffey. HCE’s siglum E sometimes represents the three tines of a fork, and ALP’s childhood memories include a frightening one of her father chasing after her with a “forkful of fat” (626.12-3). 508.2: “5 pints 73 of none Eryen blood in him:” 5.73 pints. The average human has ten pints of blood. “Eryen” combines “Aryan” with “Erin.” It was and is widely known that the Irish are the product of several races, intermingled – “Miscegenations on miscegenations” (18.20). 508.3: “cowbeamer:” compare 63.28. 508.4: “brewer’s grains:” blue-green 508.5-6: “Yule Remember…twelfth day Pax:” Compare “epiphany” of line 11. The feast of Epiphany is on the twelfth day of the Christmas season. 508.7: “wandering:” response to “wondering” (6) 508.9: “they:” in light of the following sequence, his clothes in general, his pants in particular (see McHugh on “esobhrakonton” (.12); also for .15’s recollection of 211.11, where “braggs” = breeks = britches); hence the “epiphany” is “culious” (.11) – of the cul, anus. Here as there he is noted for his pants, which are “Wooly” (.15) either because they really are made of wool or because they resemble the pants worn by “Wally” (.211.11) Meagher. (That they are “coming down” (.9) recalls the Russian general: the story of his offence, combined with the park scandal, will resurface at 508.5-14.) See next entry. 508.14: “Man is minded:” again, one is reminded of Wally Meagher – his pants, his fiancées. 508.15: “wat?:” what? – as in, “isn’t that right?” 508.16: “Ay, another good button gone wrong:” response to “back buckons” (.3), misheard as “bad button” 508.19-20: “Pamelas, peggylees, pollywollies, questuants, quaintaquilties, quickamerries:” the Meagher of 61.13-27 was “co-affianced” to two fiancées, “Questa and Puella;” here the P – Q tally has grown to six. “Quaint” is ME for cunt. Compare also .6. 508.21: “Concaving now convexly to the semidemihemispheres and from the female angle, music minnestirring:” the subject of Meagher and his bevy of beauties moves the discussion to matters feminine and musical: concave (“the female angle”) vis-à-vis (male) convex, man’s better half (hemisphere) in the language of musical notation 508.21: “music minnestirring:” sympathetic vibration to distant music – here, to the music of the (hemi)spheres 508.22: “minnestirring:” German minnesinger, troubadour 508.22-3: “subligate sisters:” Wikipedia: “in music notation, a ligature is a graphic symbol that tells a musician to perform two or more notes on a single syllable.” Thanks to Stephen Sas for noting this and the previous entry 508.24-5: “the peach of all piedom, the quest of all quick?:” expression: she’s a peach, meaning she’s the best of all women. (Here, for the purpose, peach pie is assumed to be the best of all pies.) “Quest of all quick:” response to “questuants…quickamerries:” “Quick” as in “the quick and the dead:” any man with a pulse will automatically pursue one or both or all of them. 508.27: “mute antes:“ response to “mutandis” (.23): as McHugh notes, Italian for women’s underpants. See next entry. 508.27: “seesaw shallshee:” riding a seesaw would be a good way for a girl to let others see her underpants. 508.28: “Quaine:” given context, Green. She saw their underpants when they were “gonning” (same line) on the town green. 508.30: “Boy and giddle, gape and bore:” again (see .21 and note), male, the bore, is convex; female, the gape, is concave. 508.32: “the two Collinses:” given context (music, female performers, “unmatchemable” unmentionables “bopeeped at”), a probable allusion to Lottie Collins, who began in show business as part of an act called “The Three Sister Collins” and whose high-kicking performance of “Ta-Ra-Ra-Boom-De-Ay” was a music hall sensation of the 1890’s. Her risqué exposure of underwear was memorialized in the widely-circulated question asked in Portrait, chapter five, “Lottie Collins lost her drawers; Won’t you kindly let her yours?” See notes to Collins at 101.3, 241.33, and especially 247.29-34, which helps explain “white in black arpists” (.33) – Lottie’s black stockings against the white skin of her “leg” when (“knickt”) kicked up (.32, 33). Also see 561.15. 508.33: “white in black arpists:” Hans Arp, who Joyce probably met in Zurich, specialized in compositions in black, white and grey, saying “black and white is writing,” therefore an apt form of artistic communication. Also, see next entry. 508.33: “arpists:” played by black and white keys (McHugh), the soundboard of a piano resembles a horizontal (“arp-“) harp. (The connection between the two instruments plays a part in “Sirens.”) See next entry. 508.33: “cloever spilling:” in the sense of interpreting, Saint Patrick’s clever spelling of the clover as signifying the Trinity. Given proximity of Bach, may also include the clavier. 508.34: “Gels bach…liszted. Etoudies for the right hand.:” More piano. Bach arranged some of his harpsichord compositions for the piano, which was invented during his lifetime. Liszt was famous for his flamboyant performances on the piano, in part made possible by his extraordinarily large and supple hands. Studies for the Right Hand, by G. Tyson-Wolff, “after” Czerny’s The School of Velocity, was published in 1906. “Liszted,” listened, follows up on the off-the-cuff admission that he “bopeeped” (.27) at the two girls in the park, doing something. (Usually, the something is urinating, sometimes (e.g. 96.13-4 as indicated by “peep.”) 509.1: “Where do you get that wash?:” “wash” is partly a response to “watching…watcher” 509.36), but mainly an indignant denial: at 508.36 the inquisitor had implied that, during the park scandal, he was one of the watchers as well as watched. (To be sure, he had invited the imputation with his words “the prettiest pickled of unmatchemable mute antes I ever bopeeped at” (508.26-7).) His repudiation: “They were watching the watched watching,” not I (.2-3); my underlining). 509.3: “Vechers:” lechers. Again: they were the lechers, not me. 509.5: “longuer:” response to “I, languised, liszted” (508.35) 509.5: “retouching friend Tomsky:” referring back to “Toucher ‘Thom’” (506.28) 509.6: “rooshian mad:” phrase: mad Russian. Perhaps a response to Russian-sounding “Tomsky” (.5), a Russified “Thom.” McHugh notes that Tomsk is a town in Siberia. At .30-6 he will have become a version of the Russian general of II.3, overseen defecating during a thunderstorm. 509.7: “his shapeless hat:” the “cowbeamer” of 508.3? Cows are or were sometimes jokily given hats, and it seems a good bet that such hats were or soon became pretty shapeless. 509.9-10: “But I was dung sorry for him too:” again (see .6 and note): in context, recalls the Russian general and his offensive defecation 509.18-9: “But what seemed sooth to a Greek summed nooth to a giantle:” basically, what seems true to one community can seen false to another. (Still, by most definitions a Greek would also be a gentile.) 509.19. “Who kills the cat:” curiosity killed the cat. (Though I don’t see how this fits.) 509.19-20: “Who kills the cat in Cairo coaxes cocks in Gaul:” perhaps an example of the sentiment in .18-9 (see note), along with what today would be called the butterfly effect: no matter how far apart, killing the cats in one place is good for the birds in another. 509.21: “I put it to you:” a standard expression for a prosecuting attorney addressing a defendant or reluctant witness. Compare 507.30 and note. 509.21-3: “I put it to you that this was solely in his sunflower state and that his haliodraping het was why maids all sighed for him:” recounts much of the action of II.1: sun and heliotropism as young male figure attracting girls. Compare, for instance, the newly-arrived “femorniser,” with his “celestial sunhat,” exciting “young shy gay youngs” (242.13-6). See next two entries. 509.21: “solely:” contains “sol,” sun 509.22: “haliodraping het:” includes echo of the sun’s “halo.” Compare 612.29-30: “the firethere the sun in his halo cast.” Also, derived from or the same as the “cowbeamer” of 508.3: sun’s halo, sun’s beams 509.27: “Lid efter lid:” eyelids 509.28: “Reform in mine size:” re-form – that is, reconfigure in your mind’s eye and my eyes 509.28-9: “Tiffpuff up my nostril, would you puff the earthworm outer my ear:” a kind of facially anatomical whack-a-mole: nostrils and ears, including (“outer my ear”) outer ear are joined by the Eustachian tubes. Blowing air up the nose with the mouth closed, could, theoretically, force impacted earwax, worm-shaped (like Shem’s “worms of snot” (183.29)), out of the ears. See next entry. 509.29: “puff the earthworm outer my ear:” McHugh: “earthworm” is German Ohrwurm, earwig. Tradition has it that earwigs lodge in the ear and burrow into the brain. Here, following the hydraulic procedure just proposed, blowing up his nostrils would expel any earwig from his outer ear. 509.32: “the whole of her farce:” the hole in her face – the mouth. Follows the other holes – eyes, nostrils, ears – included in preceding question (.26-9) 509.33: “volimetangere:” the “v” at the beginning turns this “touch me not” – probably his penis – into something like “I want you to touch me.” From Ulysses, recalls Molly’s “voglio,” her “Give us a touch, Poldy,” and Stephen’s “Proteus” “Touch me.” 509.34: “pantoloogions:” “since “Noli me tangere” was spoken to Christ’s mother, this may allude to Panthera, the legionnaire said by nonbelievers to have been Christ’s real father. (The name appears in “Circe” and is sounded at FW 565.19; see also 136.17-8, 360.36 and notes.) 509.35: “a piece of first perpersonal puetry:” autobiographical poetry written by a puer, a young man. Possible allusion to Joyce’s poem “Ecce Puer.” Also, given Russian general’s activity, “puetry” probably includes “putrid.” 510.1: “Booms of bombs and heavy rethudders:” thunder following the “lightning” of 509.34. Recalls Russian general, who also defecated amidst lightning and thunder (344.12-31) – hence “This aim to you!” (.2), glossed by McHugh as “The same anew.” 510.3-4: “The tail, so mastrodantic, as you tell it nearly takes your own mummouth’s breath away:” to defecate, he has exposed his (“tail”) arse, which is so huge that (along with the smell being emitted) it takes his breath away. 510.3: “mastrodantic:” Maestro Dante 510.4: “Your troppers so unrelieved:” in military language, troops are “relieved” when taken out of battle. Given preceding, “troppers” is also an overtone of trousers (being dropped), “unrelieved” includes sense of relieving one’s bowels. 510.9-10: “With a hoh frohim and heh freher:” From “Tea for Two:” “a boy for you, a girl for me.” Echoes recur throughout FW, for instance at 620.33. 510.10: “Tammy Thornycraft:” apparently a recollection of “thornyborn” (506.26) – Yawn being addressed while interrogated about “Toucher ‘Thom.’” (Oxford editors have “Tummy” for “Tammy.”) Was renamed “Tomsky” at 509.5. (Finnegan’s first name was Tim, and in FW it sometimes elides with Tom.) 510.12: “massage:” message, as transitive verb. What follows is in fact a message – an invitation to “Come to the ballay” (.14) celebrating a mass wedding; the festivities will become rowdy in a way recalling (“A Wake! Come a wake!” (.16)) Finnegan’s wake. 510.13-36 in particular mimics, sometimes rhythmically, the song’s account of the ruckus at the wake. 510.14: “ballay:” (dancing) ball. McHugh has “ballet” as well. 510.14: “We mean to be mellay:” we mean/women to be merry 510.15-6: “Gaelers’ Gall:” Gaelic Policemen’s Jailers (Gaolers) Ball. Also, McHugh has “Gaeler” as Latin gallus, cock. In other words, cock-call – dawn. 510.16: “old skin:” variant on Irish expression “a decent skin:” a good guy. Leather is, of course, old skin. 510.17-8: “old house of the Leaking Barrel:” reminder of Shaun/Yawn of III.1-2 – the leaking barrel 510.18: “lairking:” larking – having a good time 510.18: “tootlers:” players of pipes or some other wind instrument. (“Cyclops” has “tootle on the flute.”) Paired with “tombours” (.19). See next entry. 510.19: “tombours:” tambours (drums) and/or tambourines. Both are associated with merry-making. 510.21: “bank lean:” bank lien, following on (“bankrompers” (.20)) bank-robbers 510.21: “bank lean clorks:” compare 287.320: Back Lane, according to Mink “a RC chapel and ‘University,’’ later transferred to Trinity College. “Clorks:” clerks in ME sense of ecclesiasts 510.21: “clorks:” given drinking context, corks. (Compare “cobwebcrusted corks” (38.7).) 510.21: “Some nasty blunt clubs were being operated:” after-hours drinking clubs were open. 510.22: “riot act:” act empowering militia to order crowds to disperse 510.23-4: : “tumblers bearing traces of fresh porter rolling around:” as if offered in evidence, showing that drinking was going on after hours; a “tumbler” was a glass specified for drinking alcohol. With round bottoms so that they could not be put down, they would naturally roll around. 510.24-5: “for the ehren of Fyn’s Insul:” for the honor of Finn’s Island. “Ehren” also accommodates “Erin” and perhaps “erring.” 510.24-5: “Fyn’s Insul:” Finn’s Hotel, where Nora was working as a chambermaid when she met Joyce 510.25: “wapping breakfast:” wedding breakfast 510.26-7: “Rodey O’echolowing how his breadcost on the voters would be a comeback for e’er a one:” see 232.16 and note: Ireland’s Radio 2RN, also called “Radio Athlone,” broadcasting “Come back to Erin.” See also .32-3 and note. Apparently doubling with a politician’s pitch to the voters, “-echolowing” over the airwaves, among other things promising to reduce the cost of bread 510.27: “e’er a one:” as McHugh notes, a reference to Samuel Butler’s Erehwon – that is, “Nowhere,” backwards: probably an assessment of the politician’s pie-in-the-sky promises 510.27-8: “the depredations of Scandalknivery:” the 1169-70 incursions into Ireland which cost Roderick O’Connor (.26) his life are sometimes called “Norman:” Henry II was descended from William the Conqueror, a Norman, and the Normans originated in Scandinavia. See next entry. 510.28: “Scandalknivery:” mention of Scandinavia apparently recalls Norwegian Captain and his (McHugh) “usedtowobble sloops off cloasts” (.29-30), unusual suits of clothes. Compare .32 and note, 511.1-2 and note, and next entry. 510.28-9: “sloops of cloasts:” suit of clothes – a phrase associated, in different versions (e.g. “suite of clouds” (324.30)), with the Norwegian captain, whom no suit of clothes will fit. 510.29: “Would that be a talltale too?:” response to “That’d be telling” (.9) 510.29: “talltale:” telltale: a string or strip of material used on sailing ships (e.g. “sloops” (.28)) to show wind direction 510.30: “innwhite horse:” the inn (where we are invited to have a “Sip” (.30), has the picture of a white horse in the fanlight over its front door (262.22-3), symbolic of the Protestant champion William II. Again, not conducive to good relations in this predominantly Catholic community. Here combined with the (not-white) horse of “Orther” (.30) Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, yet another Protestant champion 510.31: “louties also genderymen:” louts and gentry – all classes welcome 510.32: “Kerssfesstiydt:” recalls Kersse of II.3’s Norwegian Captain story – here, once again, being cursed. Also, equal-oppositely, fêted and crucified 510.32-3: “They came from all lands the wave for songs of Inishfeel:” they answered the broadcast call (.26-7) to Come Back to Erin – as McHugh notes, also the name of a song. 510.34: “kappines all round:” happiness, and a round of drinks, for everyone present 510.34-5: “right reverend…reverent bride eleft:” pairing of right and left. Mass wedding (.6-7) celebration has apparently been reduced to one bride and groom, with the one other person necessary, a priest – the only three “sober” ones left standing. 510.35: “Mr Hopsinbond:” Mr Husband. Compare, for instant, “housebound” (317.5). 510.35: “bride eleft:” the bride-elect (prospective bride) he left (at the altar). Compare 237.28. 511.1: “- I think you’re widdershins there about the right reverence. Magraw for the Northwhiggern cupteam was wedding beastman:” “widdershins” is leftward and counterclockwise, therefore wrong. (Clockwise, deshil perambulations have sometimes featured in religious ceremonies, as bestowing good luck; see next entry.) His predecessor’s report that “Mr. Hopsinbond” was the “right reverend priest” officiating at the wedding (510.34-5) is wrong. (At 3.5, he will go on to say that, as witness, Yawn probably got too brief a look or was distracted by something the party in question carried or wore.) For one thing, the (“Hopsinbond”) husband-to-be cannot be the officiator. In II.3 the (“Northwhiggern cupteam”) Norwegian captain is usually a suitor, and here he is the groom for whom McGrath (“Magraw”) was best man. On the other hand, as in II.3, the fact that a couple can be “captain spliced” (197.13), that captains can perform marriages at sea, complicates things: technically, pace the earlier objection, the captain could have been both groom and officiator. In any case, some of the following testimony describes a wedding at sea. 511.1: “right reverence:” a reverence is a gesture of obeisance, such as a bow or curtsy, in this case toward the right, not (“widdershins”) left, direction. As in “Oxen of the Sun,” such rightward, deshil gestures are sunwards, clockwise, and productive of good luck. 511.2: “Magraw for the Northwhiggern cupteam was wedding beastman:” Magraw/McGraw/McGrath is, as usual (especially to ALP), beastly. Probably the most mysterious character in the book, in some versions he gets his name from the “caw”ing of the raven released from Noah’s ark, and here he is “for” the Norwegian captain. 511.2: “cupteam:” championship teams are awarded cups. 511.4: “with Slater’s hammer perhaps?:” see McHugh. According to Glasheen, Oscar Slater was falsely convicted of murdering an old woman with a hammer. The case was publicized, by Arthur Conan Doyle among others, as a miscarriage of justice. (The presiding judge’s presentation was flagrantly prejudicial, and the interrogation’s tone at about this point is becoming prosecutorial.) Here, the sound of someone being assaulted with a hammer will be, perhaps disingenuously, mixed up with the hammer striking the church bell, then (“she laylylaw was all their rage” (.15)) with the thumping shillelaghs at Finnegan's wake. 511.5: “in serge:” insurge(nt). Magraw/McGrath, throughout FW a rough customer, is wearing serge, a durable material usually associated with the lower orders. By any standard, it would be extremely informal clothing for a wedding. 511.6: “On the stroke of the dozen:” usually in FW, the sound of the bells from Chapelizod’s St. Laurence’s Church, as here, rung by “the old sexton” (“red-fox Good-man” (.8-9)) Fox-Goodman. Yawn is probably free-associatively responding to “hammer” (.4) – church bells are struck with what are called hammers. Also, canings and floggings were commonly measured in dozens and half-dozens of strokes. In “Cyclops,” the citizen refers to floggings in the navy as “a rump and dozen.” 511.6-7: “In search of a stammer:” “in search” is a response to “in serge” (.5). “Stammer” is a response to “hammer” (.4). “In such of a” is an occasional idiomatic variant of “in such a;” the kernel expression here may be “in such a state.” “Kuckkuck kicking,” of course, exemplifies a stammer, as well as an onomatopoeic rendering of the sound of kicking the stuffings out of someone. (See next entry.) It will be imitated by “gickling…to gackles” (.11) and “cacchinic wheepingcaugh!” (.14), this last (see McHugh) as including Italian cachinno, I laugh, also an imitation of the “gackles,” cackles from the “gickling,” tickling, and probably as well of the hacking sound of “wheepingcaugh,” whooping cough. 511.7: “kicking the bedding out of:” kicking the stuffings out of; beds are filled with stuffing. To kick the stuffings out of someone is beat them up, making them (see next entry) black and blue. 511.9-10: “bullbeadle black and bufeteer blue:” beadles wear black; some Beefeaters wear blue coats. Also, apparently an echo of bully beef and beef tea. (Both occur in Ulysses.) 511.11: “brollies:” British slang for umbrellas. (Occurs in “Oxen of the Sun.”) As in “Calypso,” umbrellas would be stored “in the hall” (.11-12). 511.12: “divileen:” “divil” is an informal British pronunciation of “devil” – here, of the female variety. 511.13: “cygncygn leckle:” swanlike neck. In the late 19th century especially, a sign of fashionable female elegance 511.13: “her twelve pound lach:” in Barrie’s play of the same name, “the twelve-pound look” is a wife’s air of independence – as soon as she saves up twelve pounds, she can leave her loveless marriage and set out on her own. 511.15-6: “establish personal contact:” with the “wifish woman,” that is. Although here it certainly sounds like a legalistic euphemism for sexual activity, in Joyce’s time it occurs mainly in documents related to business and bureaucracy. 511.17: “pond:” response to either/both “lach” (.13) – lake, “point.” Lake and pond would go with the woman’s swan-ness – her natural home. A lake is conventionally bigger than a pond – perhaps, here, the equivalent of twelve ponds. 511.18: “pigs of cheesus:” response to “epexegesis” (.16). “Resting on a pigs of cheesus:” pig’s cheeks (Compare 25.12: “sitting around on the pig’s cheeks.”) 511.19: “pint of porter:” response to “point of order” (.16) 511.20: “You are a suckersome!:” You are a Sackerson – that is, crude and stupid - because you just admitted (.17-9) that you couldn’t understand my high-class language. 511.20: “airs said to oska:” alpha to omega. “Oska” may refer back to Oscar Slater (.4). 511.21-2: “Where letties hereditate a dark mien swart hairy?:” compare 236.15-6, Bloom’s “Circe” speculations on Molly’s hankering for some “Othello black bruit,” and Molly herself in “Penelope:” “Jesusjack the child is black.” Here, because, to put it politely (compare 236.15-6), ladies hereditarily meditate on dark, swarthy, hairy men, they may give birth to dark-skinned children. (In “Ithaca,” Bloom speculates that Milly is blonde because Molly was thinking of her blonde lover Mulvey when Milly was conceived.) See .28 and note. 511.27: “shubladey’s:” scrublady’s/scrubwoman’s. The sense seems to be that she is dressed like one, or at least wearing whatever would be the kind of drawers such a woman would wear, to “humour” her husband. Nora was a chambermaid when she met Joyce. 511.28: “Massa’s:” African-American idiom for Master, here referring to her husband 511.29: “Mrs Tan-Taylour:” response to “Massa’s star stellar (.28). As in “Circe,” the hyphenated name indicates high class or pretensions to high class. (As does, perhaps, the “our” in “Taylour.”) 511.29-31: “panel:” as in a panel skirt or a segment of a skirt. (Appears in this sense in “The Dead.”) 511.29-30: “secretairslidingdraws:” response to “-ladey’s tiroirs” (.27), lady’s drawers. .29-31 describes both furnishings and a woman (a “secretary” can be either) and her outfit. The “sliding” may be an innuendo: a secretary was originally a secret hiding place, a secretary desk is a desk with a secret drawer, and, as underwear, drawers can be slidden down. 511.30: “schalter:” halter, as article of woman’s clothing, here doubling with shoulder 511.31: “forty crocelips in her curlingthongues:” curling tongs are to curl hair. 511.32-4: “- So this was the dope that woolied the cad that kinked the ruck that noised the rape that tried the sap that hugged the mort?:” refers back to the story of the park scandal and its aftermath – “dope” perhaps as “inside dope,” the news of the transgression; the “cad” in the park, the ensuing ruckus and trial. The “sap” is a version of HCE (sometimes a tree). For “mort” as ALP, see entry for 210.23-4. 511.34-5: “joke…junk…jungular:” James Joyce 511.35: “jest:” gist. Also, probably part of the run of variations on “James Joyce” – as with “jay jocubus” (251.1), Joyce liked to think of his name as suggesting laughter and jokiness. (Probably the same with “jock the wrapper” (.36), too.) 511.35: “jungular:” aside from jocular, Jack the Ripper cut jugulars. 511.36: “Jacked up in a jock the wrapper:” wrapped up by Jack the Ripper, who sent half a kidney, wrapped up in brown paper, to an investigator 512.2-3: “Drysalter, father of Izod:” traditionally, the father of Isolde is the Arthurian Anguish of Ireland. Aside from the similarity of sound, it is not clear where “Drysalter” comes in. Glasheen records an entry from Scribbledehobble: “Drystan: fils de Tallwhch,” and adds, “Drystan was a pictish mechanic.” 512.4: “To the pink, man, like an allmanox in his stickup:” being (McHugh) in the pink, that is in good, healthy condition, he resembles the hearty-looking hunter in FW’s almanac picture. (Also, fox hunters sometimes sported pink jackets.) The pub’s almanac picture is of a hunting scene – the first of a series of hunting prints, depicting the “stirrup cup” at an inn door; in some FW versions the scene features a vertical pole or post (a common pub feature) which, as an earwig pot, gives Porter/Earwicker his nonce name, explained in I.2. (Also, compare “Cyclops:” “There’s an almanac picture for you” – meaning the picture would be heroically idealized, perhaps ludicrously.) The almanac (sometimes calendar) picture is a fixture of FW’s Mullingar House: see (with notes) 13.6-8, 191.6-8, 194.6-9, 214.11-16, 245.35-6, 310.26-9, 318.1-2, 334.27-33, 335.10, 339.9-10, 354.3, 379.3-5, 561.14-15, 567.7-27, 568.16 ff, 619.3-5, 622.24-31, and 623.1-2. 512.4: “stickup:” getup (outfit). Also, in men’s formal wear, the stiff collar sticking up. (In “Wandering Rocks,” young Patrick Dignam Jr. has trouble with one.) Also, a daylight robbery; recalls variant of park scene 512.5: “brustall to the bear:” compare 197.35: “he roade and borst her bar” (197.35). 512.5-6: “the Megalomagellan of our winevatswaterway, squeezing the life out of the liffey:” before becoming an outward-bound ocean conqueror (see .7 and note), the captain is an inward-bound Liffey invader, almost too well-endowed phallically for ALP to squeeze him in. Compare .14-5: “the main the mightier the stricker the strait.” 512.5-6: “winevatswaterway:” Homer’s “wine-dark sea.” Also, compare “winevat” (171.25), in a passage which combines Joyce’s favorite wine with sexual/excremental innuendoes. Here, it seems probable that this picture of the all-man-ox, with his “stickup,” “squeezing life out of the liffey,” who has come, kissed, and conquered (.8), has similar overtones. 512.7: “You punk me!:” response to “To the pink, man” (.4) 512.7: “Carambas!:” Caramba! Stage-Spanish interjection. Probably goes with Christopher Columbus, who sailed for Spain. The Norwegian captain, having married and become lord and master of ALP, Dublin’s river, magnifies into this master mariner of the ocean sea, along with other maritime explorer/conquerors – Magellan (.5), Cabot (.18), Vasco da Gama (.15). 512.8: “Vulturuvarnar!:” combines Varney the Vampire with Varley the Vulture, two mid-Victorian publications. See .8-9 and note. 512.8: “The must of his glancefull:” making eye contact, with his seducer’s penetrating gaze, signalling that she “must” succumb. According to Nora’s mother, as quoted in John Garvin’s James Joyce’s Disunited Kingdom and the Irish Dimension, p. 108, Joyce’s habit of protracted staring led her to call him “The Man with the X-ray eyes.” (See 197.14 and note.) 512.8-9: “ – The must of glancefull coaxing the beam in her eye?:” 1. Matthew 7.3-5: “and why considerest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, and beholdest not the beam that is in thine eye?” 2. See notes to 512.8: vampire seducing woman with his gaze 512.9: “That musked bell:” more innuendo. ALP (.10) is the (masked) belle of the ball. Musk (as in “Telemachus:” “muskperfumed” “dancecards”) is a popular ingredient in perfumes, in part because of its pheromonic reputation. She responds to the “must of his glancefull,” his full gaze, with her musk. A similar transaction occurs in “Nausicaa,” where Bloom’s gaze causes Gerty to heat up, making her perfume evaporate and waft towards him. 512.10: “yep?:” an Americanism, meaning, that’s so, isn’t it? the answering “Yup!” (.11) concurs, in the same idiom. 512.11: “Titentung Tollertone…Aye aye:” 1. Either response to or sound of “bell” (.9) tolling. 2. Tongue-tied; 3. Again, Tristram’s telegraphic ship-to-shore T.T.; Iseult’s answering I. I. Here, combines with a shipboard “aye-aye” and the “I do”s of marriage ceremony 512.12-3: “Wilt thou…Wilt thou…Wilt thou?:” language of Anglican wedding service 512.14-9: “The quicker…exploser:” man’s sexual conquest over woman compared to invading colonists winning out over natives 512.15: “stricker the strait:” Damascus’ “street called Straight;” “strait is the gate” (Matthew 7:14). Also, compare .17-9 and note: the Straits of Magellan, in Patagonia 512.15: “vast:” fast 512.16: “antelithual:” (Greek lithos, stone.) Pre-Stone Age – very primitive 512.16: “circumconversioning of antelithual paganelles:” Following on Columbus (.7), Magellan (“Megalomagellan” (.5)) was first to circumnavigate the globe. Also, the missionaries who followed in their wake would sometimes demand the circumcision of pagans. (“Paganelles” may bring in female circumcision.) 512.17-9: “caecodedition of and absquelitteris puttagonnianne to herreraism of cabotinesque exploder:” blindness of an illiterate (female) Patagonian to the heroism of another global explorer, John Cabot. Patagonia was discovered by Magellan. The Herero of southern Africa, after missions had been established, were almost wholly exterminated by Germany – hence, perhaps, the “herr” in “herreraism.” 512.21-2: “Nautaey, nautaey, we’re nowhere without ye! In steam of kavos now arbatos above our hearths doth hum:” “Nautaey:” as in “nautic” or French nautique: sailor. Homey English favorites of coffee (“kavos”) and tea (“arbatos”) were both made possible by nautical exploration undertaken by the sailors just foregrounded. Coffee was popular before tea also caught on. 512.22-3: “Malkos crackles logs of fun while Anglys cheers our ingles:” Michael – typical Irish name, here for a fun-loving Irishman, paired with a soberer and homier (“Anglys”) Englishman. (As McHugh notes, “Malkos” and “Anglys” are Lithuanian firewood and coal.) Possible sideways allusion (compare 447.4-5) to Swift’s “Burn everything English, excepting her coals.” 512.23-4: “So lent she him ear:” “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.” 512.24: “appierce:” 1. Piercing her ears. (See .27 and McHugh’s translation.) 2. Wedding night loss of virginity, when he “burrow[ed]” – buried – “his manhood” in her. (See note to 482.4.) 3. Marriage to Persse O’Reilly. (See .20.) 512.24-5: “borrow his namas:” take his name in marriage, though maybe not for long 512.25-6: “Suilful eyes and sallowfoul hairweed and the sickly sigh from her gingering mouth like a Dublin bar in the moarning:” ALP as Liffey. Hair as seaweed; mouth as mouth of river; as McHugh notes, bar as in sandbar – a reprise of her river metamorphosis near the end of I.8. ALP’s sexual response to her new husband’s “burrow”ing “his manhood” in her – soulful and sighing and moaning and all, but, despite the hotness implicit in “gingering mouth,” more resigned than anything else. If “bar” also conveys the American sense of drinking establishment, I can report that one in the (“moarning”) morning is, typically, a sorrowful, sickly, and mournful kind of a place. 512.26: “gingering mouth:” “ginger shall be hot i’ the mouth, too:” Twelfth Night II.3. “Gingery” connotes high spirits. Oxford editors have “gingerine.” 512.28: “The park is gracer than the hole...:” it’s more graceful to live in high style (“parks” were woodlands belonging exclusively to country houses) than in some godforsaken hole. 512.28-9: “…but shekleton’s my fortune:” but, alas, I’ve married a rough customer. Besides the (McHugh) explorer Shackleton – another seaborne explorer - Sackerson, FW’s manservant 512.30: “soft a say:” soft c: in “park is gracer” (.28), to which this is a response, presumably the “c” was soft, more like “ch” than “s.” Not being killed during the Sicilian Vespers (see, as the first of several examples, 21.18-9 and note) required pronouncing “ciciri” with a soft c. 512.31: “Flatter O Ford:” includes Joyce’s jingle about Ford Madox Ford and his way with women 512.34-6: “- The house was Toot and Come-Inn by the bridge called Tiltass, but are you solarly salemly sure, beyond the shatter of the canicular year? Nascitur ordo seculi numfit:” the reader is invited to take this or leave it: Tutankhaman’s tomb was discovered and opened in 1922, which was also a (“canicular year”) Chinese Year of the Dog. Ulysses was published in 1922. The quotation from Virgil’s fourth Eclogue (see McHugh) was traditionally taken by Christians to be a pagan prophecy of history’s great sacred event, the birth of Jesus, which occurred during Virgil’s lifetime. (This is why Virgil is qualified to be Dante’s guide, two-thirds of the way.) I suggest that Joyce is, to be sure indirectly, equating his annus mirabilis with the annus mirabilis. 513.1: “behind the shutter:” response to “beyond the shatter” (512.35), in turn probably a garbling of “beyond the shadow” (of a doubt). 513.3: “time of immersion:” common phrase in autopsy reports on drownings: the estimated time that the victim was first immersed. Yawn sank underwater at the end of the previous chapter. Possibly, equal-oppositely, since his baptism. Also, following “Siriusly” (.1): in ancient Egypt the mid-August rising of Sirius signaled the Nile flood – the immersion of the surrounding land. 513.3: “in drought:” the “immersion” has not yet ended the drought. Also, in doubt: in some years, disastrously, the “Fluteful” (.8) flooding did not happen, creating a drought. 513.8: “Fluteful:” flut = German for flood. Again, the appearance of Sirius (.1) marks the flooding of the Nile. 513.8: “ugola:” late Latin for uvula, throat or voice, here producing a high-pitched “Fluteful” sound. Also, the uvula is an (“orkan” (.8)) organ. 513.9-10: “Jambs…of Tophat:” jambes: French for legs. Also – see McHugh - James Joyce, with his limbs-akimbo spider dance. See next entry. 513.10: “Tophat:” given dancing context (“Dawncing,” Nijinsky, choreography, “prance” (.11-3)), possible allusion to 1935 Top Hat, with Fred Astaire. (Not included in 1929 version in transition) 513.11-2: “Dawncing…like an easter sun:” tradition that the sun dances on Easter morning. See next entry. 513.12: “round the colander:” a moveable feast, Easter falls on one of several Sundays in the calendar. 513.12: “Taranta:” includes Tara, ancient name for Ireland. Also – see .9-10, .10 and notes, first note to .14 – more dancing: the tarantella. (Coincidentally or not, Piedigrotta: tarantella (variously punctuated) is the name of a musical composition by 19th century Italian composer Luigi Ricci.) 513.13: “polcat, you would sniff him wops around:” polecats proverbially smell bad. Probably the idea is that Italians do too, or at least smell strongly: compare “a hogo, fluorescent of his swathings, round him, like the cummulium of scents in an italian warehouse” (498.29-30), where “hogo” is glossed by McHugh as a “high or putrescent smell.” 513.13: “wops:” with Piedigrotta alluded to in next line, slang for Italians 513.14: “piedigrotts:” Piedigrotta, Italian site of singing contest; also includes dancing 513.14: “skimpies:” underwear 513.16: “Crashedafar Corumbas:” (delayed) response to “Crestofer Carambas!” (512.7) 513.16: “Czardanser:” (Russian, for the czar) sword dance(r) – perhaps Khatchatourian’s frenetic “Sabre Dance” 513.16-7: “Dervilish glad too:” devilish good, too. (This sounds incongruously stage-English, but perhaps that’s the point: the speaker is still one of the sober legal interrogators, however chaotic the proceedings.) 513.17: “affection:” infection 513.20: “Prisky Poppagenua:” Prince/Prefect of Propaganda. “Prefect of Propaganda” is an office in the Catholic Church usually or always headed by a cardinal, a “prince of the church” (Portrait, chapter two). See next entry. 513.20: “priamite:” primate – a high church official 513.23: “reel at his likes:” rail at his looks. (“Reel” may be yet another dance reference.) 513.23: “Noeh Bonum’s:” compare “Aeolus:” “Nulla bona.” 513.24: “shin do:” shindy 513.25: “maideve:” maid of (honor) 513.28: “Ay, graunt ye:” I grant ye 513.30: “contempt of senate:” under American law, an offense, similar to contempt of court 513.31-4: “metandmorefussed to decide whereagainwhen to meet themselves, flopsome and jerksome, lubber and deliric, drinking unsteadily through the Kerry quadrilles and Listowel lancers:” clumsiness of elderly dancers: big (meta) footed (German “fuß”); unable to reliably rejoin their partners in contra dances; floppy and jerky, lubberly and unreliable, moving as if drunk 513.34: “fifth:” Ireland’s legendary fifth province, Meath 513.35-6: “Like four wise elephants inandouting under a twelve-podestalled table:” Joyce's Notebook VI.B.30 excepts this passage from a translation of Camille Flammarion's book on astronomy, in English Popular Astronomy: some Greek astronomers represented the earth as "a circular table borne upon twelve columns, others under the form of a dome placed on the backs of four bronze elephants." Also, ("wise") white elephants; tradition that elephants never forget 513.35: “inandouting:” probably sexual 514.1: "They were simple scandalmongers, that familiar, and all!:" for now, the tone seems indignant: they were scandalous, and - that familiar! - as in, you wouldn't believe how forward and fresh they were. 514.7: “wellfired clay was cast:” compare 5.26: “misfired brick.” In the earlier case, it can mean either that it was badly made (causing collapse), or thrown (causing injury); here, the opposite: well-made, well-thrown. 514.9: “Schottenly there was a hellfire club kicked out through:” response to “Suddenly some wellfired clay was cast out through.” “Schottenly” may be a influenced by Germanic ”schappsteckers” (.8). Also, Schlot is German for chimney, which seems to fit the context: (hell)fire, bricks, house, (“wasistas” (.10) – see McHugh) ventilating window, and (“Vulcuum” (.12)) Vulcan, with his “(envil” (.11)) anvil. 514.11-2: “Like Heavystost’s envil catacalamitumbling. Three days three times into the Vulcuum:” In the Iliad, Book I, a drunken Zeus throws Hephaestus (in Roman mythology, Vulcan) out of heaven; it takes a full day for him to fall to earth. The story reappears in Plato’s Republic and in Book I of Paradise Lost, where Vulcan, among the fallen angels (hence (“envil”) evil) is given his alternative name of Mulciber. “Heavystost’s:” tossed from Heaven. “Catacalamitumbling:” tumbling, stumbling (Vulcan is lame), calamitously; also the clattering of his hammer on the (“envil”) anvil. “Vulcuum:” Vulcan in the vacuum between Heaven and earth 514.11: "envil catacalamitumbling:" Again, Vulcan’s anvil. Also, as one of the fallen angels in Paradise Lost, evil 514.15: “Ninny, there is no hay in Eccles’s hostel:” confusing, but if there were an “H” in “Eccles,” it would be “Heccles’s hostel,” HCE’s Mullingar Inn, once a hotel. 514.17: “acquinntence:” perhaps a version of quintessence. 514.19-20: “a shuler’s shakeup or a plighter’s palming or a winker’s wake:” arousing an inattentive student; celebrating a wedding; awaking a sleeper - in all cases with the ringing of a bell, “catacalamitumbling” (.11-2). The second item is taken from Romeo and Juliet: “And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.” The follow-up description (.22-29) combines a birth announcement, a wedding, and a wake. See next item. 514.22-9: “Mayhap…Agreest?:” again, a birth announcement (“A Little Bit Of Heaven…of a Tartar (Birtha)…Auspice for the Living…by the [father’s name].” Also a wedding (“Hora pro Nubis [“nubile:” a marriageable young woman]…birdsmaids…groom. Pontifical mess”). Also, a funeral and wake (“Hora pro Nubis…“Auspice for the Living” [a distortion of Dublin’s Hospice for the Dying])…Schott; (Finnegan’s) riotous wake: “Thundersday…Bonnybrook [as Donnybrook]…mess…riots.” The wedding is the main story here, and comes with the usual complications: the bride is apparently married already, the presiding (“river end” (.25-6)) reverend, besides acting as “guardian” for the bridesmaids, is ”deputiliser” for the groom, either taking the absent groom’s place (as in some marriages of state) or deputising some other man (who?) for the role. Neither bride nor groom is named. It might be possible for the same person to be both officiator and groom if the captain of a ship were also the one being married – as one of the washerwomen puts it, getting “captain spliced” (197.13). This is one of the possibilities in the Norwegian captain episode of II.3. 514.22-3: “Hora pro Nubis, Thundersday, at A Little Bit of Heaven Howth:” after Finn’s Hotel and Eccles Street, more echoes of the Joyce-Nora/Ulysses story: Nora in “Hora” (her birth certificate reads “Norah”); “pronubus” (Latin for “of or belonging to a marriage”) in “pro Nubis,” Thundersday/Thorsday/Thursday: Bloomsday (a Thursday, including a thunder storm, appropriate for Thor’s day); “Howth:” site of the end of Ulysses (and beginning of FW). 514.24: “Tartar:” a fierce, combative woman. At times, Nora could qualify; at times, Joyce seemed to want her to qualify. 514.24-5: “Sackville-Lawry and Morland-West:” again, as in Ulysses, hyphenated names sometimes signified aristocracy or pretensions to same. 514.28: “Schott, furtivfired:” 1. As McHugh notes, the Scottish uprising of 1745. 2. A shot fired from a Colt 45. For versions of “colt” in this sense, see also 84.23-4 and 352.9-10. 514.29: “No flies:” American slang: “No flies on x” – everything’s OK with x 514.29: “Mayhem:” response to “Mayhap” (.22), perhaps influenced by (“Bonnybrook” (.25)) Donnybrook, synonymous with riotous fighting 514.29-31: “Also loans through the post. With or without security. Everywhere. Any amount. Mofsovitz, swampstakers, purely providential:” compare to hostile account of Rudolph Bloom in “Cyclops:” “Loans by post on easy terms. Any amount of money advanced on note of hand. Distance no object. No security.” As identified by Ian MacArthur and Viviana-Mirela Braslasu (Genetic Joyce Studies 2022), Michael Mofsovitz was a Dublin money-lender. “Providential” was the name of a life insurance company. Rudolph was reputed to have sold lottery tickets; Mofsovitz takes bets for the ("swampstakers") Irish Sweepstakes. 514.32-4: “Flood’s…ars:” the interrogator has just referred to “loans through the post…Everywhere,” and this sequence sounds like examples of places all over the map. Some of the entries could be pub names. 514.33: “the pint with the kick:” OED first definition for “kick:” “an indentation in the bottom of a glass bottle, diminishing the capacity.” 514.35: “Scrapp:” as “Scott,” response to “Schottenly” (.9). “Scrap” in sense of fight: as in “Finnegan’s Wake,” a brawl ensues. 514.36: “The eirest race:” the most Irish race 514.36: “The eirest race, the ourest nation, the airest place:” given the swastika of .31 and overall violence of the scene, “Aryan” probably echoes through here. “Ourest” may implicate “Ourselves alone,” a common if inaccurate translation of “Sinn Fein.” 515.1: “culping:” compare 238.21 and note. 515.2: “ringing his belle:” “ring her bell” is Elizabethan slang for intercourse, here probably with someone’s “belle,” beautiful, wife. Also, the bell-ringing of “catacalamitumbling” is still going on, as usual by “goodman rued fox” (.2)) Fox-Goodman. 515.4: “No more than Richman’s periwhelker:” periwinkle/whelk is response to “Clam” (.3), the point being that he said absolutely nothing, that is, clammed up; see McHugh on .4 and .5. 515.11: “Secret speech:” he suspects the “disemvowelled” exchange of .5-6 is in code. Hebrew has no vowels. 515.12: “Secret speech Hazelton:” see McHugh. The main point here is not Hazelton/Hamilton’s “single” memorable speech but his complete silence, throughout his parliamentary career, thereafter – another example of someone being (see .4 and note) clammed up. Why Hazelton for Hamilton? Possibly, a parallel with professional cricketeer Edwin Hazelton, who scored a perfect half century in his first game but never equaled it later; there’s an Edwin Hamilton two pages previous (513.21). 515.12-3: “is good laylaw:” “Shillelagh law,” from “Finnegan’s Wake:” “Shillelagh law was all the rage” - that is, instead of regular legal proceedings, everyone started hitting everyone else with shillelaghs. From about this point until 532.6, the main story will be a brawling free-for-all, as remembered and described by Yawn, as acted out between Yawn and his interrogators, and as fought out between the interrogators themselves. There have been preliminary skirmishes: signalled by “Bonnybrook” (514.26), Donnybrook, “Mayhem” (514.30), “kick, and ”kickee” (514.32, 515.2). At 532.6 a version of HCE will emerge to enforce order and restore “Big big Calm” (534.8). 515.25: “massacreedoed:” misoccurred. (Not a real world, but a FW one: “missoccurs” (391.13) 515.27: “-Well, tell it to me befair:” “befair” is a (typically) sarcastic imitation of Yawn’s “afoul” (.26), in turn a slurred, because drunk, mispronunciation of “afore.” This begins a sequence in which the interrogator will take Yawn’s “I was drunk all lost life” as a cue to invite/coerce a stage-Irishman act. Yawn will oblige, sort of. 515.28: “that bamboozelem mincethrill voice:” booze: again, response to “I was drunk” (.26) 515.28: “mincethrill:” minstrel, both a (drunk) Irish minstrel and the Christy Minstrels, who will show up at .32 515.28-9: “Let’s have it, christie!:” Again, the answer will be as coming from one of the Christy Minstrels. 515.30: “I eyewitless foggus:” as a supposed eyewitness, I haven’t the foggiest. 515.32: “Masta:” combines “Mister Bones” (McHugh) with African-American “Massa:” compare 511.28. 515.33: “your impendements:” as impediments, perhaps referring to Yawn’s “bebattersbid” (.30-1), a stammering speech impediment like his father’s, though in this case caused by drink 515.33: “Blank memory:” his memory of his past life is a blank because (.26) he was drunk all through it. 515.33-4: “Blank memory of hatless darky in blued suit:” “Blank” from French blanc, white. “Darky” was an American term for African-Americans, who sang the blues (compare 176.33-4). The Christy Minstrels were whites in blackface. Bluing was used to make white clothes whiter. Aside from the equal-opposites black-white contrast, possibly a version not only of whites pretending to be black but of blacks trying to pass for white; compare 537.20-1, 537.24, and 538.9-10 and notes. Perhaps also an optical after-effect: FW has several instances where staring at (British) red leaves (Irish) green after-image, or vice versa. Staring at a “darky,” or at the dark blue end of the color spectrum, leaves a blank, white impression on the retina. 515.34-5: “You were ever the gentle poet, dove from Haywarden:” Vico calls Homer “the first historian of the entire gentile world who has come down to us.” Some of this sequence comes from the Iliad’s account of “these funeral games,” as conveyed by “homer’s kerryer pidgeons” (.23-4) – homing pigeons as homers. Doves and pigeons are closely related and (as in “Proteus”) sometimes conventionally interchangeable. Also, it is perhaps pertinent that, as Mink notes, Gladstone’s 1885 “Hawarden Manifesto,” sent from his Hawarden estate, “announced his partial support of Parnell’s demand for Ir[ish] independence” – a peace gesture. 515.35-6: “pratey man…Look chairful! Come, delicacy!” 1. More Irish stereotyping from the speaker: “pratey” is slang for potato. 2. “Chair” is French for meat. Like the English in Swift’s “A Modest Proposal,” the speaker is toying with the idea of the Irish as food – meat and potatoes as dinner and, because French, a delicacy. 3. Heavy sarcasm: you pretty, “nice” (.35), delicate man, like the grasshopper in the story! Compare note to 515.36-517.1. 515.36: “look chairful:” besides (McHugh) look cheerful! – something performers in minstrel shows were expected to do – be careful. Also, compare “He was sair sair sullemn and chairmanlooking” (416.4-5), a chairman being the head man at a gathering. 515.36-517.1: “Go to the end, thou slackered! Once upon a grass and a hopping high grass it was:” see McHugh. Like .36 (see note), recalls the story of the Ondt and Gracehoper (414.16-419.10), ant and grasshopper. The biblical verse commands a “sluggard” (“slacker” is a close equivalent) to learn about hard work from the ants. The interrogator is treating Yawn as an African-American or native Irishmen, two types often portrayed as lazy. 516.3-30: “-Faith…about:” much of this response is payback, probably with the expectation that the listener will not understand. Compare Lenehan in “Two Gallants:” “A shade of mockery relieved the servility of his manner. To save himself he had the habit of leaving his flattery open to the interpretation of raillery. But Corley had not a subtle mind.” Having been condescendingly addressed as a cartoon Irishman, he answers with a cartoon Englishman – clubman, toff, dressed accordingly, in a drawlingly (e.g. “awethorrorty” (.19)) “flea and loisy” (.9) free and easy manner, lording it over the natives with persnickety snipes at their clothes and manners. 516.3: “Meesta Cheeryman:” in the story of the Ondt and the Gracehoper (see previous entry), the Ondt is “chairmanlooking” (416.5) – comfortably masterful. Also compare 515.36 and note: response to “Masta” and “chairful” (515.30, .36). Also, addressing his interrogator as a juryman; there is still a trial in progress, and he is in the position of the defendant. 516.4: “badgeler’s rake:” McHugh notes Dublin’s Bachelor’s Walk. In “Sirens,” it pertains to the rakish bachelor Blazes Boylan, and the context here suggests something similar: “MacSmashall Swingy,” like Boylan in “Wandering Rocks,” is “got up regardless” (.5), dressed to impress, and seems very pleased with himself. For the record, there is the village of Badger’s Rake, in Cheshire, and according to one publication (A Practical Guide for Sanitary Inspectors, 1915), “badger” and “rake” are interchangeable terms for an implement used in cleaning drainage pipes. 516.5: “MacSmashall Swingy:” See McHugh note to .19. King Charles’ executioner swung an axe. 516.6: “cock:” cockade – worn by French revolutionaries. Cromwell’s regicides were revolutionaries. 516.6: “the Kildare side of his Tattersull:” compare Tom Kernan in “Wandering Rocks:” “Kildare street club toff.” Dublin’s Kildare Street Club was for upper-class gentlemen, including toffs. This confirms the picture of a rakish bachelor, “got up regardless.” Tattersall’s was originally a horse-racing center frequented by sporting gentlemen; probably by association, in Joyce’s time a “tattersall vest” was a sign of sartorial smartness. 516.7: “the horrid contrivance as seen above:” perhaps the “Cattelaxes”/battle axe mentioned in line .5, above 516.8: “delicately:” response to “delicacy” (516.36) 516.7-8: “whisklyng into a bone: bone whistle: prehistoric instrument 516.8: “the Wearing of the Blue:” as McHugh notes, the Irish patriotic, and anti-English, “The Wearing of the Green,” changed to blue as the political opposite: the “true blue” which, as in “Nestor” stands for English protestants 516.9: “his perusual:” phrase: as per usual 516.11-2: “telling him clean his nagles and fex himself up, Miles:” given the presence of one Joyce, an executioner, (see .5, .19 and notes), it would balance things out if this referred to Myles Joyce, the subject of James Joyce’s essay “Ireland at the Bar” – the Irish victim of a grossly unjust trial and execution. 516.13-4: “to take the coocoomb to his grizzlies and who done that foxy freak on his bear’s hairs:” as in (see McHugh) grizzly bear. Again (see previous entry), ironic, since “Swingy” here is the one wearing a “bugsby”/busby (.9), commonly equated with the military headdress known as a bearskin. (Also, given the extreme bugsiness of said “bugsby” – bedbugs, fleas, lice, ants, and weevils (.9-10) – it’s also ironic that he should be the one so vocal about hygiene and grooming.) “Foxy:” perhaps because, at least proverbially, fox hides are/were known for mange and foul smell. 516.15: “half hang:” .11-2: “see note to .11-2. Myles Joyce was hanged. 516.17: “counting as many as eleven to thritytwo seconds:” (McHugh and Oxford editors change to “thirtytwo.”) Perhaps a variant of the parental standby, “I’m going to count to three.” 516.18: “wann swanns wann:” see previous entry. If I’m right about this being a 1-2-3-or-else parental count, then the parent in question is being remarkably lenient here: Wuuunn, wuuunnn, wunn… 516.19: “my awethorrorty:” see McHugh: Cornet George Joyce’s words to Charles I. Compare .18: “his “browning,” that is, his pistol: Joyce pointed to this as his “authority” for making the arrest. The description of him as “MacSmashall Swingy of the Cattelaxes” with his “horrid contrivance” (.5, .7) surely comes from the tradition, probably but not definitely wrong, that George Joyce was Charles’ executioner. 516.19: “foul Fanden:” foul fiend – perhaps from King Lear III.vi. 516.22: “who burned the hay, perchance wilt thoult say:” see McHugh. Hay is stacked in ricks, and in the 19th century rick-burning was a form of Irish protest against land-owners. The anti-royalist Cornet Joyce has become an enforcer of the new order. “Perchance wilt thoult say” is more sarcastic cross-examination, something like “Perhaps this will refer your memory.” 516.23: “he’d kill all the kanes kings:” again (see .5 and .19 and notes): the tradition that Joyce was the headsman who killed King Charles. As for the plural of (“kanes”) kings, he was later reported to have publicly desiderated the killing of the regicide Cromwell, and was of course the sworn enemy or Charles II, who in turn tried, unsuccessfully, to have him apprehended and executed. 516.23: “the Price of Patsch:” the Prince of Peace (Jesus), with overtone of “Paschal,” Easter 516.23-4: “Patsch Purcell’s:” post parcel 516.25-6: “raging with the thirst of the sacred sponge:” compare the narrator of “Cyclops:” “I’ve a thirst on me I wouldn’t sell for half a crown.” 516.25-6: “sacred sponge:” the sponge soaked with vinegar and rubbed into Christ’s fifth wound. Until the fall of Constantinople, it was kept as a relic at Santa Sofia, now Hagia Sofia. 516.27: “nonplush:” nonplussed 516.27: “Turbot Street:” in Joyce’s time, Talbot Street was in Dublin’s red light district. Changed to “Turbot,” probably, because he has come up from the ocean “depths” (.25) 516.30: “him new nothing about:” it’s taken a while – he’s been avoiding the subject – but at the end of the rigmarole, he is being a useless or (probably) resistant witness who “[k]new nothing about” it. 516.31-2: “moor and burgess medley:” (Thomas) Moore’s Melodies 517.2: “scum:” scrum, as in (see next entry), rugby 517.3: “clever play in the mud:” facetious sports-page language for violent game – here, rugby and boxing. Compare “Cyclops” account of prize fight: “knockout clean and clever.” 517.4-6: “that upon the resume after the angerus how for his deal he was a pigheaded Swede and to wend himself to a medicis:” one boxer taunting – “warning” (.10) – the other: after the next round, its beginning signaled by a bell whose sound resembles an angry angelus, you’ll need to go to a doctor. Compare .13 and note. (Oxford editors have “medicins” for “medicis.”) 517.5: “angerus:” Angelus bell – another memory of bell sound; compare 514.11, .19-20, 515.2. Also (see previous entry) the bell signaling the end of a round of boxing. Also, “angelic warfare” (516.36), between angry angels. Also, see 53.17 and note: with a possible allusion to the once-ubiquitous painting by Millet, the hearing of the ringing of the angelus as a signal to pause in the business of the evening. 517.7-8: “turniphudded dunce:” response to – and correction of – “pigheaded Swede.” Expression: “dumb Swede.” A swede is a variety of turnip; its bulb is the “head.” (According to Eric Partridge, a “large Swede turnip” resembles “a man’s head.”) Yawn is, rather punctiliously, testifying that this is a more accurate version of what the man really said. 517.8-9: “bowlderblow:” bowler – either hat or sportsman 517.8-9: “jokes bowlderblow the betholder with his black masket off the bawling green:” according to an interview with Joyce’s father, “there was a bowling-green at the back of his hotel [the Mullingar House] and I was considered a celebrated bowler.” “Jokes:” Joyce 517.9: “black masket:” Charles II’s executioner wore a black mask. See notes to 516.5, 516.19, and 516.23, above. Also, see next entry. 517.11: “mardred:” martyred. Perhaps another reference to Charles I, to his mourners the “royal martyr” 517.13: “smutt and chaff:” dirty words and taunting words. Again, trash-talking between the opponents. Also, literal mud and chaff, sticking to the fighters as they roll in the ditch. See next entry. 517.14: “rolled togutter into the ditch:” recalls the ditch/sunken road of the Waterloo sequence (8.9-10.24) 517.16: “teeth in the back of his head:” phrase: ”eyes in the back of his head.” Occurs in “Scylla and Charybdis.” Your annotator is mystified as to how this answer has anything to do with the question. 517.17: “to shine his puss:” given soap references to follow, to wash his face. See entry after next. 517.19-20: “worsted…bester:” since being “worsted” is the same as being “bested,” the “bester” is the one who won. In “Ithaca,” Molly’s lover Boylan is a “bester,” that is (OED) a “person who gets the better of others by dishonest or fraudulent means: a swindler.” 517.19-20: “Leaverholma’s…sunlife:” Lever Brothers made Sunlight Soap. 517.20: “save sunlife:” contraction of “save his own life.” Also, compare 30.13, “saving daylight.” Both seem to echo “Daylight Savings Time,” instituted early in the century. See note to .24-30. 517.21: “Asbestos:” response to “the bester” (.20) 517.22: “forte carlysle touch breaking the campdens pianoback:” Carlisle was a brand of piano. Pianists are often said to have a “touch.” Playing too “forte” – slamming down on the keys – is imagined here as breaking the piano in two. 517.24-30: “- Are you…it!:” This exchange about the time draws on three variables – Daylight Savings Time (see note to .20, above) Dublin’s Dunsink time, twenty-five minutes (and twenty-three seconds) before Greenwich Mean Time, and different time zones. “About half noon,” as McHugh observes, means both 12:30 in the British Isles and 11:30 in Germany. (Confusingly, 12:30 in England would actually be 1:30 in Germany.) The approximation implied in “about” allows enough leeway for the time to be simultaneously “twelve thirty” (.29) and about 11:30 – say, 11:32 (.30). Also, the park encounter being remembered here occurred at noon, therefore, according to one possible calculation, (very) approximately 11:30/11:32. To further complicate, Ireland went off Dunsink Time and onto Daylight Savings Time in 1916, a move with widely noted political implications, and has been back and forth since – which perhaps helps explain how the initial park encounter, a request for the time of day, could lead to a fight. The Battle of Waterloo began at or about 11:30 a.m. (Your annotator has tried, without success, to locate any account giving the time as 11:32.) One other note: as best I can determine, in Ireland, Daylight Savings Time, often called “Summer Time,” was usually initiated in mid-April – too late to make much difference to events, or accounts of events, on or around March 21-2, my candidate for FW’s default date. Also, as if all this weren’t enough, see next entry. 517.25: “Grinwicker time:” as GMT and Earwicker’s time, both English (Greenwich) and (Chapelizod) Irish, which (see previous) were sometimes the same, sometimes not. 517.26: “quadrant:” sailors used quadrant (to measure angle from horizon of sun or star) and (“chronos” (.36)) chronometer in combination to determine location. 517.31-2: “That rising day sinks rosing in a night:” Homer’s “rose-fingered dawn;” rose-colored sunset 516.33: “Amties, marcy buckup!:” “say auntie” is an occasional variant on “say uncle,” meaning to give up 517.33: “Amties:” amities 517.35: “A triduum before Our Larry’s own day:” Our Lady’s Day, a.k.a. Lady Day, the Feast of the Annunciation, is March 25. (Three days – a triduum – earlier would be March 22, which, again, your annotator believes is the FW date right now.) 517.36: “chronos:” in context, ship’s chronometer. See note to .26. 517.36: “my man of four watches:” see McHugh. Joyce wrote a poem calling himself “the bloke with the watches.” The fourth watch of the night is pre-dawn – between three and six a.m. According to Joyce’s May 21, 1926 letter to Harriet Shaw Weaver, this would be the fourth watch of Shaun and would begin at page 555. 517.36: “dath:” a death watch is the time in attendance on someone condemned to death. 518.1: “- Dunsink, rugby, ballast and ball:” see McHugh. Following four “watches,” “Dunsink,” “ballast” and “ball” all relate to telling time in Dublin. “Rugby:” the “Rugby clock,” from 1927 on, a time signal received from the Greenwich Royal Observatory, broadcast worldwide from a radio station in Rugby, England. Also, associative link: Rugby football – ball – ballast 518.2: “for the loathe of Marses:” response to “At mart in mass” 518.8: “heavenly militia:” not a phrase in Milton, but one often applied to the Paradise Lost rendition of the war in heaven, with its “ambiviolent” “virtues” and (“principality”) principalities “struggling diabolically,” “pro” and “con.” “Devil’s own dust” (.6) is a fair version of the PL’s account of gunpowder. Compare 519.6-7. Paradise Lost is intermittently present from here until about halfway through the next page. 518.10: “the will of Whose B. Dunn:” “whose will be done” 518.9-10: “with my tongue through my toecap on the headlong stone of kismet:” kissing the Blarney Stone is one thing; this is something like French-kissing it. Yawn at this point, too eager to please, is overdoing things. 518.10: “headlong stone of kismet:” compare 5.17. Along with Blarney Stone and Long Stone, the Kaaba stone, widely believed to have been a meteorite, having “hurtleturtled out of heaven,” arrived “headlong” from the sky. “Kismet” is originally Arabic, therefore associated with Muslim/Orientalist culture. 518.12: “arms’ parley:” the 1918 armistice (517.33); see third note to .17. 518.12: “meatierities forces vegateareans:” meteorite refers to “headlong stone” (.10), versus earth-huggers (terraineans) 518.15: “illegallooking range or fender:” “or fender:” offender. This goes back to the conflicts of Book I, where the “fender” (29.30, 63.7) is an offender, and, especially to 84.33-4 (see note), which seems to link a fireplace fender to some kind of firearm. Here as there it is a shape-shifter: turfing iron, revolver, briar pipe, watering can. 518.16: “Engineers:” artillery officers or those in charge of military equipment; this sense of the word was widespread in World War I. 518.17: “briars:” shillelaghs; also the pipe in contention during the fight in the park, first mentioned at 35.11 518.17: “revalvered:” revolver 518.17: “weaponswap:” Waffenstillstand, German for armistice, especially that of November 11, 1918. Compare 588.5, see next entry. 518.19: “They did not know the war was over:” stories of soldiers who continued to fight and die after 11:00 a.m. because news of the Armistice had not come through – another case (see 517.24-30 and note) when differences about the right time of day could have serious consequences 518.19-20: “berebelling or bereppelling:” possible overtone of Vico’s tag “pia et pura bell.” See .33 and note. 518.24: “For he was the heavily upright man, Limba romena in Bucclis tucsada:” he was well-built, and his body – his limbs - looked good in a tuxedo. 518.26: “Yet this war has meed peace:” “They have made a desert and called it peace:” Galcacus the Briton, quoted in Tacitus, about the Roman Empire 518.28: “The mujic of the footure on the barbarihams of the bashed:” the feet of an advanced civilization kicking the behinds – hams – of beleaguered aborigines. Given the high concentration in the vicinity of matters military and German (the “gutterish” – guttural” language and its “pootsch punnermine” (.25, 519.3), for instance), I think this should call up a picture of goose-stepping Brown Shirts, their trampling boots sounding the music of the future, as many in the time (first appearance, in transition, was 1929) thought they did. (In “Circe,” “the music of the future” is Bloom’s phrase for his fantasized establishment of the “New Bloomusalem.”) 519.32: “Handwalled amokst us. Thanksbeer to Balbus!:” Jesus: He walked amongst us. Also, thanks to Balbus for building that wall, making it possible to play handball. 518.33: “O bella O pia! O pura!:” see McHugh. Response to “berebelling or bereppelling” (.19-20) 518.35: “All the same you sound it would clang houlish:” “klang associations:” the association of words and phrases based on sound, not meaning. A major feature of this chapter. 519.1-2 (“But…sum”) will be yet another example. May also be another reference to the Vulcan’s/Mulciber’s envil catacalamitumbling” of 514.11-2. Oxford editors have “howlish” for “houlish.” 518.35-6: “like Hull hopen for Christians:” compare “Wandering Rocks” dialogue: “Hell open to christians they were having, Jimmy Henry said pettishly, about their damned Irish language.” Here as there, controversy and commotion, leading to violence. Also, considering Paradise Lost presence (see .6-7 and note), Hell is open and hoping to catch some fallen souls. 519.2: “whole the sum:” response to “All the same” (518.35) 519. 2: “vigil:” given echo of “Hell open to Christians”/Europeans in preceding line, Dante’s Virgil 519.4: “hog and mine:” compare 455.9-11. Beginning of Gaelic for “May God bless you” 519.5: “larry’s night:” compare “that laurency night of star shootings” (22.12). August 10, “Saint Lawrence’s Night,” also known as “the night of the shooting stars,” corresponds to the Perseids meteor shower; here we have “the artillery of the O’Hefferns” (heavens) (.6)). Also see 517.35 and note. Also, “artillery of the heavens” was a common poetic phrase for thundery weather; a variant occurs in “Oxen of the Sun.” 519.6-7: “the artillery of the O’Hefferns answering the cavalry of the MacClouds:” Milton, Paradise Lost: “Each cast at th’other, as when two black Clouds, / With Heav’n’s Artillery fraught, come rattling on / Over the Caspian.” see note to 236.19-20. In line with other Miltonic imagery or language, for instance the angelic “virtues” and “principalities” of 518.5. Also, possibly, the feud of the Hatfields and McCoys, featured, although under different names, in Huckleberry Finn 519.6-7: “the cavalry of the MacClouds:” according to the Gospel of Luke, “the sun was darkened” for three hours during the crucifixion on Cavalry. 519.7: “fortey and more fortey:” “fortey: forte: musical direction: loud. So: loud and louder. Also, more testimony about the torrential rain, like Noah’s forty days and forty nights. The musical sense of forte probably refers to the accompanying thunderstorm. 519.8: “cock and biddy story:” “Biddy” is a popular name for hens, including FW’s, the one who digs up the letter. So, male cock and female hen. (The previous line has an allusion to Scheherazade’s 1001 tales – one of FW’s analogues.) 519.10-3: “This ri. This is his largos life, this is me timtomtum and this is her two peekweeny ones. From the last finger on the second foot of the fourth man to the first one on the last one of first:” game played by adults with baby’s digits, similar to “This little piggy went to market.” “Largos,” the largest one, is presumably the big toe and/or thumb; “peekweeny ones” the little toe/toes/finger/fingers. Also, possible allusion to Jesus’ “The last shall be first.” See note to .11. 519.10: “largos:” largo: musical direction: very slow. Compare note to .7. 519.11: “peekweeny:” p(s) and q(s). Also, pickanniny. In some American versions, the jingle went “This little nigger went to market….and this little pickanniny ran all the way home.” Probably a response to “coon” in “concoon” (.3) 519.14: "Finny:" as in slang sense for finish or finished. 519.15: “fere it is:” there it is: American readers may not be aware that this is a common English expression indicating finality, sometimes in a dismissive tone of voice. Yawn’s message is: Silly or not, it’s true. 519.16: “guid:” a Scottishism for good. See .19 and note. 519.18: “asleep at the wheel:” not paying attention 519.19: “thathens of tharctic:” “The Athens of the North” can be Edinburgh as well as Belfast. (Neither is literally within the Arctic Circle; both are closer to it than are either London or Dublin.) The Belfast connection (see next entry) helps identify the speaker as Matthew. Oxford editors have “Thathens” and “Tharctic.” 519.21: “last foot foremouthst:” a (garbled) response to “From the last finger on the second foot,” etc. (.11-12). 519.21: “yur moon was shining:” again: “yur” spelling is a sign that the speaker is Matthew. (Although sometimes – see next entry – it can alternate with “you”/”your”) 519.23-5: “moon was shining on the tors and on the cresties and winblowing night after you swearing to it a while back before your Corth examiner, Markwalther, that there was reen in plenty all the teem?:” refers back to exchange of 501.36-502.1: “Was there rain by any chance, mistandew? [new paragraph: Yawn answering] “Plenty” – just reiterated in his ill-advised exuberance about Noah’s (“fortey and more fortey” (.7)) forty days and forty nights. With all the rain you’ve just testified to, how could you have seen the moon as well? In retrospect, this shows that 1. the examiner was Mark, from Cork, and 2. that he was leading the witness into a contradiction, as part of a good cop/bad cop routine with Matthew. Panicky at being caught in a contradiction, Yawn reacts with a (very) garbled defense (519.26-520.21) which nonetheless has a kernel of truth: the whole weather issue, now the basis of the indictment against him, came about from a conspiracy of his interrogators. (Crux: although Yawn has certainly gone along with the version of events in which rain, complete with thunder and lightning, figures prominently, I at east can find no place in the last few pages where he or anyone else mentions the moon. This seems to be a reprise of the trial scene of I.4, where the witness is similarly caught out (88.2-3) on his inconsistent testimony about the moon. Also compare 347.7-8. These scenes may recall a famous incident from the legal career of Abraham Lincoln, in which Lincoln used an almanac to show that the witness could not, as he claimed, have seen the alleged crime by moonlight. 519.24: “Markwalther:” both referring to Mark, the interrogator from Munster (compare previous entry), and addressing Yawn as Make-water, making water, that is, a urinator. The scandal in the park always or almost always includes urination, whether overseen (the girls) or practiced (the accused) or both. 519.26: “grand duly:” response to “grand jurors” (.19) 519.26: “duly affirm:” familiar language for oaths, for instance before a (“grand duly”) Grand Jury 519.26: “Robman Calvinic:” Calvinism because of Ulster’s (Matthew’s) Protestantism. Combined with Roman Catholic, a classic example of FW’s coinciding contraries. “Robman” may include Catholic feelings that, along with England, the north has a history of exploiting them. 519.32: “forty ducks indulgent:” forty days of rain: Noah’s flood. Rain is proverbially duck weather. “Indulgent” echoes “deluge.” 519.33: “Aunt Tarty:” as Antarctic (McHugh), a response to “tharctic” (.19) 519.34: “sousers:” souse: drench. Also, a drunk 519.35-6: “the split hour of blight when bars are keeping so sly:” given context (for instance “sousers”) probably midnight, an hour after official closing time, when any establishment serving drinks would have to be secret. On the other hand, read as the split hour of night, midnight, when one day splits into the other 520.4: “the bad place:” euphemism for hell; here refers to public toilet. (Portrait’s version of hell, in chapter three, is basically that of a huge toilet.) See next entry. 520.5: “ejaculating about all the stairrods and the catspew swashing his earwanker:” see next entry. Aside from the main one, two other reasons Father McGregor wanted access to the public toilet: to get out of the pouring rain, and to wank off in private 520.6: “thinconvenience:” convenience(s): euphemism for public toilet. (Compare 219.2.) This one - very inconveniently, when he most needed to use it – was locked up because “putrenised by stragglers abusing the apparatus” (.7-8), it had been made putrid by the defecations etc. of straggling strangers; the etc. may include (see previous entry) self-abuse. See 524.1 and note. 520.10: “be Cad, sir:” by God, sir! 520.13: “Mrs Lyons:” would be Mark (Lyons’) wife. As the wife of Mark of Cornwall, Iseult – a mésalliance. 520.13-7: “who prophessised…Brown child:” roughly: she promised to contribute money for a mass to be performed for the souls of Africans. (Compare the “African Mission” mentioned twice in Ulysses.) 520.14: “three shielings Peter’s pelf:” see McHugh: three shillings, one penny 520.16: “saints withins:” apparently an interjection, without quotation marks or other indications, from someone besides Yawn himself. It happens again at .20: see note. 520.16: “midnight mask:” midnight masque 520.16: “of a:” on 520.20: “heehaw hell’s flutes, my prodder again!:” just to make things even more chaotic, the ass decides to have a say. (A “prod” is used to control some animals, including donkeys; a “prodder” is either the thing itself or the person who uses it; the ass is tired of being prodded. ) 520.23: “brothers be for awe:” response to “heehaw…prodder” (.20) 520.24-6: “So let use off be octo while oil bike the bil and wheel wang till wabblin befoul you but mere and mire trullopes will knaver mate a game on the bibby bobby burns of:” I tentatively suggest that the speaker here is not (as McHugh has it) Yawn, but one of the other three, probably Mark, in a response to Matthew, who will answer with a sneer at his “southerly accent” (.30). See next entry; it seems unlikely that Yawn would speak of himself as one of the “octo.” (Still, his voice is, increasingly, getting mixed up with those of his interrogators.) 520.24: “let use off be octo:” Let us (the four men) be off on our (“octo”) eight legs 520.28: “fyats:” from here through p. 522, Matthew seems to be arguing alternately/simultaneously with Yawn and the other three inquisitors; hence the plural. 520.28-9: “yur second sight noo:” a sarcastic version of something like: Second thoughts now? So you’ve changed your story, eh? 520.29: “noo:” now. Scottish pronunciation – which, again, often overlaps with Matthew’s Ulster. A significant number of Ulster’s inhabitants have origins in Scotland. 520.29: “recant that all yu affirmed:’ that is, both recount what you have already testified and recant, repudiate, it at the same time. No way that Yawn can win this 520.29-31: “all yu affirmed to profetised first sight for his southerly accent was all paddyflaherty? Will ye, ay or nay?:” again, as at 519.23-5, .28-9: are you going back on the testimony you gave to Mark? (From Cork, to the south?) So it was all rubbish? (Cork’s Munster is the province with the Blarney Stone.) 520.34: “rubricated annuals:” lubricated, ruby-red anus, which he is ready to kiss. See next entry. Compare the Gripes’s “Culla vosellina,” vaselined anus (154.29). Also, compare 568.23-5, where a Dublin dignitary “shall receive Dom King at broadstone barrow meet a keys of goodmorrow on to his pompey cushion. Me amble dooty to your grace’s majers!” – that is, besides ceremonially presenting him with the keys to the city, he will give him a kiss on the plump cushions of his arse. As in “Ivy Day in the Committee Room,” the local notables are all to eager to oblige “Dom King” and other powerful figures. Part of Yawn’s problem is that he is so anxious not to offend his interrogators that he will go along with whatever they want him to say. 520.35: “R.C.:” arse: takes off from – a response to - “annuals”/anus. Also, Matthew’s hostility toward the Roman Catholicism of the other three provinces. 520.36: “my labrose lad:” McHugh: labrose as Latin for “with large lips” – answering “holyhagionous lips” on “rubricated” (lubricated) anus (.34-5) Oxford editors have “labbrose.” 520.36-521.2: “how very much bright cabbage or paperming comfirts d’yu draw for all yur swearin? The spanglers, kiddy?:” Oxford editors have “papermint” – dollars, from the American mint. Accusing Yawn of receiving money (“cabbage:” greenbacks; “spanglers:” coins) from American sources. Peppermint comfits: red and white of flag’s stripes; “spanglers:” “Star-Spangled Banner:” white stars on blue field. As usual, “yu”/“yr” signals that the speaker is Matthew, from Ulster. By and large, Irish Americans contributing to political causes in Ireland supported southern, anti-Ulster organizations, including the I.R.A. Matthew is accusing Yawn of taking foreign funds to pursue what he considers traitorous activities. 521.4: “yous Essexelcy:” your excellency. (Oxford editors have “Yous.”) Traditionally a form of address for high-level foreign officials and diplomats 521.4-6: “Essexelcy…Golden Bridge’s…Lucan:” Essex, Goldenbridge, Lucan: names of three Dublin-area bridges. See next entry. 521.5: “Golden Bridge’s:” given American context (greenbacks, Star—Spangled Banner), probably San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge as well, with “Golden” as another innuendo that he has sold out for American money. Compare 71.11, 433.32, and 493.26-7, with notes. 526.6: “glass of Lucan:” Lucan wine, from Italy’s Basilicata region 521.7: “a highlandman’s trousertree:” a trouser tree is a piece of furniture for the purpose of holding trousers. U.S. patent dates from 1912. Compare “clotheshorse” of 522.16. See McHugh: since highlanders traditionally wear kilts, not trousers, presumably worthless or close to it. A defensive example of how, even if he did receive some American money, it amounted to “nada” (.4) 521.7: “three crowns:” perhaps a response, or just variation, on the mysterious “three shielings” (shillings) of 520.13. A crown is five shillings. 521.7-8: “three crowns round your draphole:” Dunville’s Three Crown Irish Whiskey, around since well before Joyce’s time. “Draphole” in this sense would be the mouth as a hole in which to drop a “dram,” but see next two entries. 521.8: “draphole:” drop hole: outdoor latrine. See next. 521.8: “(isn’t it dram disgusting?):”a dram – a drink - in or in the vicinity of a latrine’s hole? Disgusting? Well, yes. Compare the “two fellows” in “Lestrygonians” who would “suck whiskey off a sore leg.” 521.10: “Come now, Johnny!:” may be directed to both Yawn (Shaun/John) and Johnny MacDougal. (Also, for good measure, Yawn has just been accused of being an American stooge, and “Brother Jonathan” was a personification of America.) Again, the identities have become scrambled, both among the interrogators, between the interrogators and Yawn, and within Yawn himself, who sometimes has to disavow the “something inside of me talking to myself” (.26). In Yawn’s last response, Matthew from Ulster was apparently associated with the “three crowns” of the Munster flag (.7: McHugh); here (.10-15) the addressee is John from Connacht but the place-names are from Dublin. (McHugh has the speaker here as Matthew; I incline to Luke. 522.4-11, continuing this line of questioning, is addressed to both Yawn and Matthew.) 521.10-1: “Pro tanto quid retribuamus?:” as McHugh says, the motto of Belfast, but “quid” is also British slang for a pound. Again, Yawn is being accused of accepting money for nefarious purposes: Just how many quid were we (you) you paid and repaid? 521.12: “fines times:” equal-opposites: fine times; being fined for having those fine times. Also, see second entry for .7: a crown is five times the value of a shilling. 521.14: “lame…gait:” a lame, halting gait, perhaps from too much drinking 521.15: “Bushmillah!:” Bushwa! American slang for “Rubbish!” (Earliest Google Books occurrence is 1912.) The next three sentences should accordingly, once again, be sarcastic; the fourth, “Give me fair play,” is similar to today’s “Give me a break!” 521.17-8: “At the Dove and Raven tavern:” aside from (McHugh) the Noah reference, yet another drinking establishment where Yawn, according to his accuser, has been drinking up his ill-gotten gains, wetting his whistle. 521.17-8: “To wit your wizzend:” compare “the wine’s at witsends” (170.13). He’s at wit’s end, not from too much exasperation but from too much drinking. FW words resembling “wit” and “wizzend” frequently accompany urination, and the next line is “Water, water, darty water!” 521.21: “What harm wants:” given McHugh’s detection of Chapelizod in “Up Jubilee sod!” (.19), probably newspaper magnate Alfred Harmsworth, born in Chapelizod. Occurs several times in FW. He usually got what he wanted, and by Joyce’s standards, and FW testimony, it usually proved harmful. 521.23: “tristy:” trusty. Exactly what Ghazi Power was not 521.24-5: “gaspower or ill-conditioned ulcers:” Ulster, Yawn’s main antagonist, as usual being ill-conditioned - rude and pushy. Also, Glasheen, on Frank “Ghazi” Power: he “showed a ‘bullet wound’ in his leg which turned out to be a blind boil or ‘illconditioned ulcer.’” 521.30: “hulstler:” hustler: in sense of relentless go-getter, this fits the Irish image of Ulstermen. 521.32-6: “But…Buy!:” McHugh has Yawn as the speaker; to me it sounds more like the voice of the three southern provinces, joining forces against Ulster. It is “Three to one” (.31), but on the other hand Ulster has the money (“Tell Queen’s road I am seilling…Buy!” says one of the three, in line with Joyce’s longstanding conviction that the Irish could always be counted on to sell out to the highest bidder) and the backing of Britain. Accordingly, the three, when challenged, back down. 521.32-3: “What do you have?:” What’s wrong? 522.1: “grill:” perhaps the grill of the confessional 522.1: “chuse:” pronunciation of “choose” goes with the extra hard “yu” which in FW characterizes Ulster. 522.4: “Northern Ire:” as in Ire-land, land of anger. Joyce made this pun in a poem. 522.3-11: “Gently…you?” see note to 521.10: as at 521.32-6, the speaker here is probably Luke. He is answering the Matthew of .1-2, who addressed him, threateningly, as “yu bullock,” the bull being Luke’s apostolic insignia. In return, he makes nice (“Love that red hand,” perhaps with insinuative undertone of “red-handed”), and re-directs the discourse back to Yawn. 522.8: “Crimeans with the fender, the taller man:” reprises report of park encounter: compare 62.28, 63.10-11, and, as McHugh notes, 82.4. “Crimeans,” besides crimes/criminals, would also seem to bring in the Russian General episode of II.3. The Russian General was definitely tall; his “moral turpitude” (.14) was primarily excremental in nature. 522.9-10: “as skirts were divided on the subject:” compare 65.5: “skirt” as slang for young woman. The two young women of the park scandal had different opinions “on the subject” of the offence. 522.10-1: “You did, you rogue, you?:” showing joshing admiration for his way with the ladies: you rogue, you, with your two “skirts!” 522.12: “You hear things:” in other words, the answer is that someone told me something that might or might not be true. 522.12: “serially:” response to “serious” (.9) 522.12: “bushes:” recalls the “ombushes” (7.35) at the beginning of the “Willingdone Museyroom” (8.9) sequence – here as there, as witnesses to the action, sometimes also the girls in the case 522.16: “the hindlegs off a clotheshorse:” a clotheshorse is an article of furniture for drying clothes. The “off” may indicate that the “mortal turpitude” in question is (compare 449.22-4 and note) similar to that of being a hedge thief – someone who steals clothes drying outdoors. In “Oxen of the Sun,” Punch Costello’s checkered past includes “fecking maids’ linen or choking chicken behind a hedge.” 522.16-7: “Did any orangepeelers or greengoaters appear periodically up your sylvan family tree?:” were any of your ancestors either policemen (Peelers) or (greengrocers) in trade? - that is, declassé? Given aristocratic overtones of “sylvan family tree,” highly sarcastic: the “periodically” may suggest intermittent illegitimacies. In the Irish song noted by McHugh, “The Peeler and the Goat,” a policeman enforcing the penal laws against Catholics threatens to arrest a goat for vagrancy and have him transported. (In defense, the goat claims he was just being active, outdoors, during the mating season.) Joyce’s addition of orange vs. green gives a North-South spin to the story. See .19 and note. “Sylvan” and (see next entry) the response of silver probably sets the stage for the return of Sylvia Silence (.23, 523.2). 522.18-9: “family silver:” response to “sylvan family” (.17). Also, as heirloom silverware embossed with a family’s initials or some such, a sign of old-money status. See next. 522.19: “nass-and-pair:” perhaps chaise-and-pair, conferring carriage-trade status. (Although, see McHugh: an ass and pair would take it down several notches.) 522.19…23: “Hah!...Hahah!:” another unbidden eruption from within Yawn – again, probably from the ass. See next. 522.22: “a bone moving into place:” expression: a “bone in the throat,” meaning a source of continual annoyance. Here, the sense is more literal – an obstruction that is impeding his speech. 522.23: “Hahah!:” beginning of Silvia Silence’s “Have…” (523.2-4; compare 61.6-7 - the “something inside…talking to myself.” 522.26: “I have something inside of me:” not a coincidence that this occurs after (see McHugh on “snapograph” (.21)), the subject of x-rays has been introduced. Yawn becomes a “third degree witness” (.27), newly visible in three dimensions, including his interior, whether anatomically or (“psoakoonaloose” (.34)), psychoanalytically. 522.27-8: “But this is no laughing matter:” see entry for .23: because “Hahah!” is conventionally the sound of laughter 522.28: “Do you think we are tonedeafs in our noses:” synaesthetically speaking, we can smell you as well as hear you – and neither experience is pleasant. 522.29-30: “Can you not distinguish the sense, prain, from the sound, bray?:” in general, a very good question throughout this chapter, with, up until 532.6, its meanings repeatedly being generated out of mis-hearings. Also, a classic psychological distinction, between sensation and perception – between what the ear hears and the sense the brain (see McHugh) makes of it. Again, “bray” indicates that the “heehaw!” of 520.20 was either an interjection by the ass or a case of its being channeled by Yawn; see also note to .19…23. 522.29: “prain:” pray 522.31: “expert:” both McHugh and Oxford editors have “exvert” – a made-up word to pair with (“invertedness” (.31)) invert 522.31: “steatopygic invertedness:” compare, for instance, 350.13-5. Anal homosexual sex 522.36: “pigeonstealer:” someone who steals someone else’s racing pigeons 523.2-4: “Have you ever weflected, wepowtew, that the evil though it was willed might nevewtheless had somehow on to good towawd the genewality?:” Oxford editors have “evew” for “ever.” The return of Sylvia Silence (61.6-11). Probably a response to “sylvan” (521.16). In reply to demand for an example, Yawn is showing that (see .34-5) he can psychoanalyze himself by calling up another personality from his subconscious. Compare 337.16-7: “Suppwose you get a beautiful thought and cull them sylvias sub silence.” Sylvia’s thought here – that good can come of evil – is, if not exactly “beautiful,” certainly nice, not to mention a version of FW’s felix culpa. Also, at 61.7-11 she recommended that HCE be prosecuted for homosexuality, and here (522.26-7), just before her appearance, charges of homosexual behavior have been added to the indictment. 523.5-10: “A pwopwo...sinning:” both in speaking voice (lisp) and thought (exonerating the “deponent”), the interrogator’s words have apparently been influenced here by that of the last speaker, Sylvia Silence. Earlier, she asked us to consider whether “sheew gweatness was his twadgedy” (61.7), here, whether he is more sinned against than sinning. 523.5: “talking of plebiscites:” perhaps taking off from Sylvia’s “the genewality” (.4), the generality, in sense of majority. That at .24 “plebiscites” will have become “fleabesides” suggests some condescension, as in Hamlet’s “caviar for the general:” they are, after all, plebes. (As McHugh notes, Hamlet is also quoted at .13.) 523.7: “deponent:” throughout, Yawn has been the deponent. 523.8: “the man from Saint Yves:” perhaps because, like the man from Saint Ives with seven wives, etc., Yawn has shown himself to contain multitudes. “Yves” rather than “Ives:” Yawn’s first answer was “Y?” (477.26). 523.10-12: “for if…owntown eyeballs:” a deliberately vague Heracleitian-Comtian-Bergsonian explanation and exoneration of the accused, or, come to that, any accused. Even with our own two eyes, we don’t know who we are, because we’re always becoming someone else. 523.12: “is becoming in its owntown eyeballs:” i.e. in the eye of the beholder, us 523.13: “strong form:” I can’t find the exact meaning, but “strong form” is a term that crops up frequently in reports of horse racing. Helps account for .14-8, following, which is based on a newspaper’s description of a thoroughbred. See next entry. 523.14-5: “neverreached:” never reached the finish line: thoroughbred or no thoroughbred, this hardly sounds like a recommendation. 523.15: “sieur:” besides sire, French soeur, paired with “brother” (.14). The horse in question is both a brother and a sister. (It also – see .17 and note) invites inversion, recalling earlier diagnosis of “invertedness” (522.31), homosexuality. The note of sexual deviance – homosexuality, bisexuality, androgyny – continues. 523.16: “groomed…bred:” groom and bride 523.17: “inversion:” response to “invertedness” (522.31) 523.22: “Ladiegent:” more androgyny 523.22: “asseveralation:” asseveration by several persons 523.23: “Frisky Shorty, my inmate friend:” on their introduction (39.13), Frisky’s intimate (also, here, inmost) friend was named “Treacle Tom,” who will be addressed as 526.8 as “Toomey lout, Tommy lad.” Here as there, they were preceded by testimony about matters relating to horse-racing – on their introduction, as patrons of the track. Here as there, they represented the voice of (“plebiscites” (.5), “fleabesides” (.24)) - the common people, the common people in this case being pretty seedy. In I.2 they become part of the rumor mill about HCE’s transgression that will culminate (pages 44-7) in “The Ballad of Persse O’Reilly,” a continuation of which will show up at 525.21. 523.24:” “fleabesides:” again, echoes “plebiscites” (.5). A fleabag establishment would be one frequented by paupers (.25). 523.26: “Easehouse:” house of ease: euphemism for privy. Also, east house, paired with “West Pauper Bosquet” (.25). Mink suggests that it may refer to a Chapelizod pub, the Bridge, which is to the east of the Mullingar Inn. 523.27: “a wee chatty with our hosty in his comfy estably:” the chat is about all the things wrong with HCE. Again, the “Hosty” of I.2 is his inveterate enemy. If he is also the “host” of a rival pub, that may help explain his animosity. (Complication: “hosty…comfy estably” also brings in HCE. This would not be the first time in FW that “Hosty” seemed to be his dark double.) 523.27: “estably:” slangy abbreviation for establishment – here, a hotel with bar; also, possible overtone of (also slangy) “eatery.” McHugh’s recommendation that “glad Easehouse” be relocated to follow “estably” would not seem to change the overall sense much. 523.28: “middlesex:” more androgyny 523.28-30: “flu…dumps:” Twelve ailments; twelve is usually the number of ALP’s customers. The “burman” (.31) barman makes it baker’s dozen. 523.31: “tour of bibel:” reading of the Bible, to determine right or wrong of the case. See 524.11 and note, 524.18 and McHugh’s note to “lectionary.” Throughout the pair seem to be overdoing their piety: their “tour” was also of drinking – bibulous – establishments, and their spelling of “bible” goes with “libel.” 523.32: “ethical fict:” actual fact, ethical fiction – something like what Bloom calls a “Pious fraud but quite right.” 523.34-5: ”epscene [obscene, epicene] licence before the norsect’s divisional respectively as regards them male privates:” privates as in private parts. (Army privates would not normally be specified as male.) This continues the charge of homosexuality lodged at 522.30-1. 523.36: “concomitantly:” not the kind of word one expects from someone like this, the soldier friend (probably Treacle Tom) of Frisky Shorty. In spots he either blends with or mimics the legalistic language of the four inquisitors when they speak conjointly. 523.36: “all common or neuter:” perhaps continues earlier comment about nouns (.10-11) 524.1: “public exess [McHugh corrects to “excess”] females:” prostitutes. Also “public access:” official (“metropolitan” (.2)) phrase for public lavatories and other facilities. The scandal in the park and the confusion over “thinconvenience” (520.6) are being commingled in memory. It is possible that the whole business started just because the women’s public lavatory was out of commission, so that the girls in the case had to resort to the bushes. 524.1: “fillies:” Americanism for attractive young women; continues thread of 523.14-9 524.3: “arbitrary conduct:” compare 99.9-10: “harbitrary conduct with a homnibus” 524.5:” “sparkers’:” American slang for snogging couples 524.5: “succers:” suckers: American slang for babies. Given context, probably a sexual innuendo as well: sparkers and suckers: heterosexual and homosexual canoodlers 524.8: “Mr Coppinger:” perhaps with reference to the 19th century cataloguer of incunabula (books printed before 1501; literally, Latin for cradle) Walter Coppinger. FW’s Coppinger references, as Glasheen says, “fasten on cradle-filling.” This Coppinger, someone with an unhealthy interest in the subject of “early bisectualism” (.12), will introduce us to one J.P. Cockshott (.14), someone with the same predilection (.36), along with a worrisome interest in naked children. 524.8: “fire fittings:” given legal context, forfeitings. Also, as McHugh notes, a fender is a fire fitting for the fireplace, along with andirons and so on. Testimony about a “fender” featured in accounts of the FW’s park encounter since 63.7 and has recently cropped up again (518.15, 522.8). 524.11: “what the good book says of toooldaisymen:” “the good book” is a popular term, mainly American, for the Bible. “Toooldaisymen:” too old – but daisymen? “Daisy” currently can have homosexual connotations, and according to Green’s Dictionary of Slang the phrase “daisy chain,” meaning “a circle of three or more people, hetero- or homosexual, all linked physically in mutual sex acts,” dates from 1902. (Also, in David Copperfield, Steerforth’s nickname for the younger David, to whom he clearly feels sexually attracted, is “Daisy” - perhaps an indication that the innuendo goes back a long ways.) 524.12, .36: “early bisexualism:” biology texts of Joyce’s time refer to fish as examples of “hermaphroditism.” Psychology texts, both before and after Freud, commonly describe infantile and pre-adolescent sexuality as bisexual or polysexual. More androgyny 524.16: “Cockshott:” cock-shot: ejaculation. The “little salty populators” resulting (.32-3) are spermatozoa. According to reports, semen tastes like sea water. Also, “cockshut:” twilight 524.18: “hereckons:” given “windwarrd eye” (.19), hurricane. Oxford editors have “he reckons.” 524.20: “cunifarm school of herring:” “cunifarm,” as the incised V of cuneiform letters; cunt-like (another female-male pairing, here with “herr” in “herring”); the V-shape of a school of fish. 524.20: “supernatently:” Atlantic herring spawn at water surface. So, they are swimming (Latin natare) up above – super. Mr. Coppinger’s/Cockshott’s point of view sometimes seems to be from underneath. (II.3 begins after Shaun/Yawn has sunk to the bottom.) 524.22-4: “Butting, charging, bracing, backing, springing, shrinking, swaying, darting, shooting, bucking and sprinkling…with the twinx of their taylz:” as McHugh notes, the Zodiac, in order, starting with Aries, the “Butting” ram. (That is, the FW year, at least here, begins on March 21, usually the first day of Aries and Nora Barnacle’s birthday: Nat Halper suggested that the “Tristram” of 3.4 signaled that FW was beginning with Aries.) “Sprinkling” is the water-carrying Aquarius, and “twinx” is Pisces, traditionally (though not, today, always predictably) represented as a twinned pair of fish, their tails approximating a mirror-image ying-yang pattern. Note the “w,” “x.,” “y,” and “z” in “twinx of their taylz.” 524.25: “yon socialist sun:” because when Joyce was writing the sun rose from the direction of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics? The next chapter, beginning at page 555, will be in the half-light of dawn’s breaking. 524.26: “gut me:” fishermen gut fish. A fish-related way of saying something like “Damn me, but…” 524.27: “pot em:” pickled herrings are sometimes potted. See next entry. 524.28: “gillybrighteners:” shiny-bright fish gills 524.29: “smolty:” smoky: kippers (.26) are smoked herrings. Also, compare 7.17, 170.28. 524.32: “flossity:” silkiness 524.34: “upandown dippies:” compare 65.32-3. 524.35: “pickpuckparty:” picnic party. Also, compare 278.12-3 sounds of dripping and rippling water:” “pick, peck…pack, puck.” 524.35: “wriggolo:” regular 525.1-2: “hidebound homelies:” as to be found bound within (524.11) his Bible, presumably bound in hide. The attitude toward the “good book” (524.11) has undergone a change. 525.3: “bracksullied twilette:” brackish (water). Also, the toilet’s water, which is often sullied. (Compare “cultic twalette” (344.12).) Also, black-sullied – darkening - twilight. 525.3-5: “The use of cold water, testificates Dr Rutty, may be warmly recommended for the sugjugation of cungunitals loosed:” the traditional remedy of cold showers for subduing lust, that is, ruttiness - but see next three entries. 525.4: “testificates:” testicles: “testify” originally meant swearing an oath while grabbing the testicles 525.4: “Dr Rutty:” rut, as in “in rut,” sexually aroused 525.4-5: “sugjugation of cungunitals loosed:” subjugation of congenital lust (McHugh) but, equal-oppositely, also the subjunction/conjunction/conjugation of loosed genitals, the testicles included, when in rut. Also, likely overtone of cunnilingus: at .8 he will be accused of being “absexed” with “mackerglosia,” that is (McHugh) having a big tongue. 525.6: “Tallhell:” response to “Tolloll” (.5) 525.6: “Errian coprulation:” Arian: one who does not believe in the consubstantiality of the Trinity 525.6: “coprulation:” copulation has certainly been on the agenda recently, but the last instance was in the water of a (“twilette” (.3)) toilet, hence (see McHugh) copro, dung. That “love has pitched his mansion / In the place of excrement” is, for FW, a founding doctrine. What is generally called coprophilia is evident in some of Joyce’s 1909 letters to Nora, and certainly a recurring fact in FW, especially in accounts of the park scandal. Also, the population of (“Errian”) erring Erin 525.7: “Pelagiarist!:” Pelagians do not believe in original sin. Along with “Montgomeryite”s (.7) they are being charged with dangerous free-thinking, which has led to the kind of free-for-all “coprulation” just condoned, rather enthusiastically, from about 524.5 to 525.5, by someone rejecting orthodox morality as “hidebound homelies” (.1-2). 525.7: “Montgomeryite!:” Mink lists this as a possible allusion to Dublin’s Montgomery Street (“Monto”), the entrance to Dublin’s red light district. Given the charge of being “absexed” with “coprulation,” the identification seems highly probable. “Montgomery” definitely has this meaning at 58.26. 525.8: “Y’are absexed:” well, yes, he was. (McHugh and Oxford editors both have “obsexed:” obsessed with sex.) The preceding started as a report on polymorphous perversity but got more and more into the spirit as it went on. 525.8-9: “mickroocyphyllicks:” probably echoes necrophilia, certainly echoes syphilis. Given context, “Phyllis,” a conventional name for a beloved woman in pastoral poetry, may be present too. Also, see McHugh: to have a (“mackerglosia”) big tongue in a microcephalically small head, with brain proportional: someone who keeps on talking even – especially – when he doesn’t know what he’s talking about 525.10-1: “Wait now, leixlep! I scent eggoarchicism. I will take you to task:” more suspicion of dubious doctrine. “Eggoarchicism” would be the ultimate extreme in free-thinking: since only my version is right, only I rule. “Eggo-“ instead of “Ego’” because the testimony was about spawning fish in a “ruttymaid fishery” (.13). “Leixlip,” salmon-leap, is a destination for spawning salmon. 525.12: “Was it esox lucius or salmo ferax?:” who in this female fishery was the (male) boss of the show – the king fish? The answer will be a mix of Henry VIII and Charles II as “Magnam Carpam” (.20), Big Carp, or HCE as “Human Conger Eel” (.25). 525.12-3: “taxing…ruttymaid:” one of the agreements of Magna Carta, at Runnymede, was to limit taxes – feudal payments – to the king. Runnymede, on the Thames, is a “water meadow” – a likely place for fish and fishing. 525.13: “ruttymaid fishery:” response to “Dr Rutty” (.4). The spawning fish at Leixlip are frantic with rutting. (Your annotator was once manning the helm of a sailboat sailing through the Atlantic’s Georges Bank, site of the world’s richest fishing fields. All at once the sea came noisily alive with wall-to-wall, ship-to-shore, spawning fish. “Frantic with rutting” is not hyperbole.) Also, Runnymede, which will show up at .19, preceded at .18 by the (“ribald baronies”) rebel barons who confronted King John there. (“Ribald:” they’re swept up in the orgiastic scene, too.) 525.14: “Lalia Lelia Lilia Lulia and lively lovely Lola Montez:” with all the frenzied spawning going on, the notoriously much-partnered (and, certainly, lively and lovely) Lola Montez emerges as an example of a rutting-mad “ruttymaid” (.13). The sequence “Lalia” etc. tracks the vowels in alphabetical order except for transposing “u” and “o,” maybe so that the range can begin and end with alpha and omega. (See note to .34.) Given the context, the seven “L”s are a version of FW’s seven rainbow girls: the speaker is the same version of Yawn who was so “absexed”/”obsexed” with all the pretty little fishes. At .17 we will hear of a merry monarch who beget children in all “seven parish churches.” 525.15: “Gubbernathor!:” gubernator: governor 525.16: “fry:” baby fish 525.16: “marrye monach:” merry monarch: McHugh has Henry VIII; the epithet was also applied to Charles II. Although both were notorious for their libidos, only the latter fathered multiple illegitimate children – “Spawning ova and fry” (.16). (On the other hand, Henry was the (“marrye”) many-marrying one.) 525.18: “ribald baronies:” robber barons (or baronies). Also, see note to .13. 525.18: “dans, oges, and conals:” Called by Bloom a “breedy” man, Daniel O’Connell, like Charles II, was believed to have fathered any number of bastards. What with these three prolific breeders, the promiscuous Lola Montez (.14) has more than met her match. 525.19-20: -Lift…zoo?:” Fisherman talk, including traditional exaggeration: “Lift” the fish for a “landing!” It’s (of course) a (“vesh vish”) fresh fish, a thundering huge one, big enough for a zoo. 525.19-20: “For a runnymede landing:” Runnymede, reachable by water, is along a bank of the Thames. 525.21-6: “There’s…Eel!:” along with other recyclings, the return of Persse O’Reilly (.16) and Hosty (.19) retrieves a new verse from the loosely-structured “Ballad of Persse O’Reilly” (44.24). 526.21: “an old psalmsobbing lax salmoner fogeyboren:” a solemn old sentimental psalm-singing fogey, with possible overtone of Solomon, adjusted to the fish-catching action under way. 526.23: “freck:” fresh, including sense of sexually forward 525.24: “after every long tom and wet lissy:” more “bisectualism” (.12), or rather bisexuality: swollen with “spermin spunk” (.23), he’s eager to jump any sexually aroused (male, erect; female, wet) fellow organism accessible. Oxford editors have “lizzy” for “lissy” – in either case, a version of Issy. 525.25: “Human Conger Eel!:” compare 165.21: “congorool teal!” – kangaroo leap; kangaroo tail. The connection is that a spawning salmon is also a leaper: compare .10-1 and note. 525.26: “Up wi’yer whippy:” fly-fishing rods, then as now, are frequently described as whippy – thin, light, highly flexible. Oxford editors have “wi’ yer.” 525.29: “Pull you:” response to “Bullhead!” (.28). One fisherman to another: one has played the fish, the other now pulls on the line. 525.29: “Longeal:” response to “Conger Eel” (.26). Oxford editors have “Longeel.” 525.29-30: “he’ll cry before he’s flayed. And his tear make newisland:” see next entry. Finn McCool made the Isle of Man by scooping - tearing - out a giant plot of earth from what is now Lough Neagh and dumping it in the Irish Sea. This time, the reverse: as “the great fin may cumule” (.31), his tears of pain will inundate and surround a stretch of dry land, turning its highest prominence into an island. (Something similar happens in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland; the Alice of Through the Looking-Glass will show up on the next page (526.32).) 525.30: “before he’s flayed:” A cringe-inducing passage. Inedible otherwise, eels are flayed while alive. (Note to self: never eat eel.) “Like a flayed eel” is an expression for someone or something thrashing wildly around. 525.32: “Manu ware!:” McHugh identifies as Vaivasvata Manu – the Indian Noah. Overtone of Man of War battleship 525.33: “stood into:” nautical term meaning “headed toward.” Also, perhaps overtone of “cockstand;” see next entry. 525.33: “Dee:” delta: vagina. Original meaning of “Dee” is “goddess.” Also (see previous entry) a river has a mouth. Scotland’s River Dee runs into a harbor at Aberdeen; a brief Scottish passage (see McHugh) follows at .36. That he “stood into” the delta after he “missed her mouth” suggests an exceptionally clumsy version of this sequence’s variations on the theme of oral sex. 525.33-4: “Romunculus Remus:” Uncle Remus 525.34: “plying the rape:” playing the rake, that is, being a womanizer 525.34: “so as now any bompriss’s bound to get up her:” after being deflowered, she’s fair game for any man. (Compare Corley in “Two Gallants:” “There was others at her before me.”) “Get up her:” have intercourse with her: compare Molly’s “Penelope” fantasy about being a man so that she could “get up on a lovely woman.” 525.35: “pool her leg:” Dublin harbor’s Poolbeg Lighthouse. Also, to “pull” someone’s “leg” is to deceive them as a joke. 525.35: “bunk:” Americanism for bullshit 525.35-6: “skid like a skate:” both the fish and an ice skate, both slithery (526.1) on the surface 526.2: “polster:” bolster 526.7: “mugs:” Americanism for faces 526.11: “Grenadiers…anglers:” identifies and addresses the (“Toomey lout, Tommy lad” (.8)), tommies – Angle/English Grenadiers - who have just shown up. “Anglers,” of course, also goes with the fishing thread. 526.12: “compresent:” primarily a philosophical coining of the early 20th century, here being applied to theology – the nature of the interrelationship of angels (.11) and of the Trinity (.14-6). 526.15: “Wisdom’s son:” in Biblical writings, Jesus 526.15: “Folly’s brother:” a phrase from Burton’s Arabian Nights, glossed as “very fool.” Also, in the Bible, Achitophel means “brother of folly.” Achitophel was part of a coup attempt against David; when it failed, he hanged himself. Also, “Son of wisdom” has a number of applications. In Proverbs, it signifies a farmer who wisely plants and harvests in the right seasons – an ant, not a grasshopper. 526.17: “You’re forgetting the jinnyjos for the fayboys:” the subject has changed from women to men (the soldiers). (Beginning at .20, Johnny will return the topic to women; at 527.3, we’ll hear from Issy.) Probably continues innuendo of homosexuality; jinnies are girls (8.31, etc.); by at least 1928, “fay” could mean gay. 526.17: “jinnyjos:” Jimmy Joyce. As often (see next entry), a James will be followed by a “John.” 526.18: “Walker John:” from John of Patmos (.17) to Johnny of Connacht. Since in the Mamalujo quartet he corresponds to the John of the Gospels, this plays on the tradition that the same John wrote Revelation. At 479.9, he remembers his Connacht home as a place for outdoor activities, including “strolling and strolling.” 526.20: “Naif Cruachan!:” As noted by Brendan O Hehir: royal seat of Connacht – John of Connacht is speaking – and home of Queen (Anglicized) Maeve, Ireland’s much-married, promiscuous warrior queen and sworn enemy of Ulster. 526.20: “Woe on woe…Woman:” drawing on an old folk-etymology, that “woman” derives from “woe to man.” 526.20-1: “Woman will water the wild world over:” 1. In FW, women are liquid and men are solid. 2. Whatever else it entails, the park scandal includes girls – the jinnies, the “two stripping baremaids” (.23) - making water. 526.21-34: “And…love!:” Both McHugh and Oxford editors have this as a new paragraph, beginning with the dash that signals new dialogue. Apparently, “Naif Cruachan!...over” was the answer of John from Connacht, then followed by testimony from one of the “Grenadiers” (.11) who witnessed the park scandal. It will certainly bear out John’s remark about “Woman…water[ing] the wild world over.” Part of the transition from the preceding has been, naturally enough, from the subject of fish to the subject of water: all the watery spots named in the paragraph would have been favored locales for fresh-water fishing. 526.21: “folley:” response to “folly’s brother” (.15) 526.22-3: “furry glans:” definition of “glans:” “the rounded part forming the end of the penis or clitoris.” Here, the latter 526.23: “stripping baremaids:” besides (McHugh) strapping barmaids, maidens stripping bare. The “Strip Teasy” of 527.9 follows through. 526.23: “Moth:” Miss 526.24: “hand to dagger:” “hand to heart” would signal an oath of honor; this signals an escalation - a readiness to fight if one’s word is questioned 526.25: “rawkneepudsfrowse:” frowsy frau – here, the “mother” just mentioned (.24) 526.25-6: “superflowvius heirs:” compare “furry glans” (.22-3). In “Circe,” the mannish Bella Cohen’s “superfluous hair” is her “sprouting moustache.” In “Penelope,” Molly thinks that women get moustaches from practicing oral sex on men. Here, is it a sign that the woman in question, possibly as part of the aging process, has let herself go, becoming a frowsy frau. 526.26: “begum:” “By gum!” An Americanism. Also, high-ranking Indian lady 526.27: “king of cloves:” either/both king of clubs, king of (loves) hearts. Perhaps also the shamrock, which resembles a playing-card club: compare 222.29 and note. We have just recently (.22) heard of the “trefoil,” another name for shamrock. 526.27-8: “the most broadcussed man in Corrack-on-Sharon:” Bloom, in “Eumaeus,” on the Irish, on Jesus: “mostly they appeared to imagine he came from Carrick-on-Shannon or somewhereabouts in the county Sligo.” As the alpha male of the region, he is a favorite with the ladies, casting his seed broadly (the original meaning) and resented accordingly – broadly cussed. 526.28: “Rosecarmon:” from the opera: Carmen and her rose – another cautionary tale about women 526.29: “drowned in pondest coldstreams of admiration forherself:” Oxford editors have “for herself.” Narcissus (and Echo) story. Pertinent that Pond’s Cold Cream was also called “vanishing cream:” compare 301.3-5, 528.10-3. Introduction of Narcissus establishes (“inversion” (.35)) mirror-image effects of .29-36; “inversion” in sexual sense has been in play since 522.31. Issy as Narcissus is looking at herself in a lake – specifically (.33) Lough Shieling, in the center of Ireland’s lake district. 526.29: “pondest coldstreams:” inclusion of Coldstream Guards in this cold pond: the speaker is one of the soldiers introduced at .8. 526.30-1: “bachspilled likeness:” McHugh: spelled backwards, mirror image. FW’s girl’s name is usually “Issy,” but sometimes a version begins with “Y:” here, on the contrary, “Ys” (527.1) will signal a case of spelling backwards. See next entry, and entry for .34. 526.32: “salices:” Alice (see McHugh) shows up in connection with looking-glass strain. 526.32-33: “salices and weidowwehls:” willow trees and weeping willow trees, wailing like widows 526.34: “Oh, add…All of her own:” omega-alpha, alpha-omega, spelled backwards and forwards, because of mirror. 526.34: “shielsome:” response to “Lough Shieling’s” (.33) 526.34-5: “Nircississies are as the doaters of inversion:” that is, in doating on their own image, narcissists doat on inversion. Also, daughter replacing mother: “-cississies” signals a mirror-doubled Issy; in lines 35-6 a (small) pool will become a (larger) lake. Again, in Joyce’s time, “inverts” were homosexuals, generally considered to be narcissists whose self-infatuation prevented them from loving anyone of what FW calls the “apposite sex” (436.17). A mirror image is, of course, an “inversion” of the original – right side becoming left. 526.35-6: “Secilas through their laughing classes:” In (“laughing classes”) Latin classes, “Cecilia” would means “blind” – an equal-opposite pairing with (“laughing classes”) looking glasses. Also, in a I.6 Q & A, the “maggies” “love laughing” (142.31). 526.36: “becoming poolermates:” polar mates, as contrasted with polar opposites. (Another looking-glass reversal. Oxford editors have “becombing,” which would go with the Narcissus theme (see .34-5 and note) – looking in the mirror, she’s grooming herself.) 527.1: “Ys?” legend of Breton city of Ys, sunk beneath the waves; at times the bells of the churches can be heard. Theme of Debussy’s La Cathédrale Engloutie. Compare 601.4-6 and note, and see next entry. 527.1: “Gotellus!:” Go tell us! Either/both an encouragement to continue, reminiscent of the I.8 washerwomen asking to hear more about the young ALP’s deflowering, or a sarcastic rejoinder. Also, OED has “gothele” as an archaic word meaning to “make a low rumbling noise, as bubbles rising through water,” which would fit with the “Ys” story. 527.3: “Listenest, meme mearest” etc:” Issy talking to Marge in the looking-glass: “me,” doubled. “Listenest” resembles the Nymph’s faux-classical words to Bloom in “Circe:” “Mortal!...Nay, dost not weepest!” 527.3-4: “harrowd, those finweeds:” finweed is restharrow, an herb found in coastal areas. Here, apparently refers back to the “salices and weidowwehls” (526.32-3). Why not just harrow but (“harrowd”) horrid, from which one Issy will seek comfort in another Issy’s “bosom?” Perhaps because (see note to 523.32-3) they were weeping, wailing widow-willows. The next sentence (“So sorry you loost him, poor lamb!”) would seem to confirm. 527.4: “Come rest in this bosom!:” “bosom of the deep” is a common poeticism for bottom of the ocean. Less reassuringly, “resting” in it usually implies having drowned. 527.5-6: “a very vikid girl to go in the dreemplace and at that time of the draym:” the events of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland turn out to be a dream, during the day. 527.7: “under the dark flush of night:” compare “nighthood’s unseen violet” (403.22). Ultraviolet equal-oppositely combined with (“flush”) infrared. The point is that even if she were invisible (see 526.29 and note, .12-3 and note), she shouldn’t have done it – in this case, 1. Gone to the outdoor toilet (hence “flush”), with its “draym” (.6) 2. flirted with (“grandpassia” (.7-8)) an old man. One of many versions of the park scandal 527.7-8: “grandpassia! He’s gone on his bombashaw:” as McHugh notes, a reprise from the Peaches and Daddy Browning story of I.3. (According to .10, this was at the time of her first menstrual period – so she was very young.) 527.8: “bombashaw:” OED dates “bimbo,” as meaning an attractive but unintelligent young woman, from 1929. 527.8-9: “Through geesing and so pleasing at Strip Teasy up the stairs:” compare 109.19: “upstheres.” Editorial comment: I think this supports my thesis that Issy’s words are being heard coming down from her upstairs bedroom – sometimes down the chimney passage shared with her parents on the lower level, sometimes, as here, from her room’s open door, down the stairway. Compare in-house acoustics of 558.22-566.27. 527.9: “Strip Teasy:” response to “two stripping baremaids” (526.23) 527.9: “boys on the corner:” corner boys: young layabouts 527.12-3: “invinsibles…coldcream:” invisibles: again, cold cream was also (526.29) called “vanishing cream;” in FW (as at 528.11) it can make its wearer invisible. 527.12: “Eulogia:” as in eulogy. Again, one of the Issys as widow: see note to .3-4. 527.12: “apposition:” acquisition 527.13: “coldcream:” compare 526.29 and note: recalls the Coldstream Guards of the soldiers’ testimony, the cold stream of Issy’s rivers and lakes 527.13-4: “from Boileau’s I always use in the wards after I am burned a rich egg:” reversed, or simply mixed-up, syntax. Eggs, both white and yolk, have long featured in remedies for skin condition (as McHugh notes, Boileau’s is a chemist/druggist) – here, for burns, probably sunburn. (Most writers would probably have set off “after I am burned” with commas.) For “wards,” compare 550.21-2: “clubmoss and wolvesfoot for her more moister wards.” 527.14: “rich egg:” an especially nutritious egg laid by a well-fed hen. Distinguished by thickness of contents. 527.16: “veritiny:” very tiny: the hands are small – “Chic hands.” Joyce was proud of his dainty hands and feet. 527.19-20: “I’ve two of everything up to boyproof knicks:” Her “charmeen cuffs” (.18) get her thinking about how bodily things come in twos: feet, knees, thighs, up to the knickers (as in pair of), the last-stand “boyproof” resort in resisting male advances. In “Penelope” Molly Bloom remembers being frustrated by a pair of “closed drawers” which, unlike the “open” variety, had to be taken down before she could urinate. Also, as the mistress not the maid, Issy has two of everything that Madge has. 527.20: “winning in a way:” a catty putdown of another woman’s looks – in this case, Marge’s. Compare next two entries. 527.20: “my arms are whiter:” than yours. Issy to Marge; Iseult of the White Hands to Iseult of Ireland. The former is fairer. 527.21: “Fair hair, frail one:” pale (and blonde) women were proverbially frail, also (see .23-4) especially susceptible to harmful effects of the sun’s rays. 527.21-2: “O be joyfold!:” O be joyful! – a popular religious exclamation, addressed to those in the (“-fold”) congregation 527.22-4: “Mirror…fire!:” As with Chaucer’s Prioress, a nun’s tokens of sanctity consort with vanity: mirror, tapered white fingers, earrings, a veil to preserve fair skin. 527.22: “Mirror do justice:” “Mirror of Justice” is one Catholic term for the Blessed Virgin Mary. So, as McHugh notes, is “tower of ivory,” the phrase behind “taper of ivory.” Also, an address to the mirror: Do justice (to (meme” (.21), me, me). 527.22: “taper of ivory:” poetically, thin white (and high-class) lady’s fingers were commonly compared to tapers and/or ivory. Looking in the mirror, she is admiring what she sees: fingers, “hoops of gold” (probably earrings), “veil.” (“Heart of the conavent” (.22-3) may be a religious/ornamental necklace or brooch.) 527.23-4: “My veil will save it undyeing from his ethernal fire:” In “Ithaca,” sunlight reaches Earth through the bioluminescent ether, and, at least here, the same goes for FW. Also, see .21 and note: the paler the skin, the more need of a veil against the sun. “Undyeing:” dyed cloth, of a veil for instance, can become faded if exposed to sunlight. Gist: although she has heard, in the convent, about hell’s eternal fire, her main concern is that it might make her skin less attractive. (Gerty McDowell has similar concerns in “Nausicaa.”) Her nun’s veil conveniently offers protection. Also, as Blessed Virgin Mary, she will protect him from the fires of hell. 527.24: “meme idoll:” my idol, ideal; my (miming) doll, me me 527.24-528.13: “Of course…(I’m fay!”): It was “viry vikid” (.5) of her to go to a certain place and it was “downright verry wickred” (.24-5) of him to meet her there. I hypothesize that the place in question is a confession box. Church law dictates that nuns confess to male priests, and Joyce typically thinks of such encounters as being sexually insinuative. Her memory/fantasy of the meeting features his lips, collar, “bust,” and the words between them, and may end with his presiding over her wedding to someone else (“Father Blesius Mindelsinn” (528.8) includes Mendelson’s Wedding March) while she is still secretly thinking of him and their shared secrets. At 527.35-528.3 he promises to fix things with the prioress, “mother Conception,” so that no one in the convent will know “what passed our lips or.” 527.25-6: “Bortolo mio:” words, I think, heard as being addressed to the listener, Issy’s father / father confessor. In (see McHugh) The Barber of Seville, Bortolo is the senex who wants Rosina for himself, blocking the course of true (young) love. 527.26: “peerfectly appealing:” equal-oppositely, perfectly appalling 527.26: “D. V.:” in this mirroring sequence, “D. V.” will be reciprocally responded to with “V. D.” (529.25) – God’s grace with venereal disease. 527.26-7: “my lovebirds, my colombinas:” McHugh, but not Oxford editors, has “dovebirds” for “lovebirds.” Makes sense: the term “lovebirds,” though usually applied to a species of parrot, is sometimes used for mourning doves, members of the (Columbidae) dove family. One of many instances where Issy (“I’ve two of everything” (.19)) is equated to a pair of something, usually more or less vertical. Compare the “ii” of 240.30: according to Joyce’s notes two small birds, with the elevated “..” – another Issy signature – signaling their bedtime prayers. 527.27: “Their sinsitives shrinked:” compare 238.8-9: “Next to our shrinking selves we love sensitivas best.” The former is based on an ad for BVD underwear (which, at the time, was probably subject to shrinkage) - “Next to myself I like BVD best.” (First appearance: 1924.) In part, a response to “D.V.” (.26). See also 238.1. 527.28: “My rillies:” Amaryllis: flower; woman’s name, in pastoral love poetry signifying sweet simplicity 527.29-30: “(Mon ishebeau! Ma reinebelle!):” split and reversed, Isabelle and rainbow. Also, of course, courting beau and belle. (According to McHugh, a somewhat altered version of the “lovebirds”/”dovebirds” (see note to .26-7) passage should be moved down here to precede “How me adores eatsother simply (Mon ishebeau Ma reinebelle!” (.29-30). This would, again, make sense: these are the words the mutually adoring pair are saying to one another.) 527.31: “muskished:” musky, mushy, much-kissed 527.31: “my little pom got excited:” clitoris, presumably. In Ulysses, it is twice called a “button.” Elsewhere, FW variants sometimes signal French pomme, apple 527.32: “turned his head:” to turn someone’s head is to attract their (favorable) attention in an instant. Typically, a priest in a confessional has his face at a right angle to the penitent’s, but she wants this one to turn his head, towards her. 527.33-4: “lord so picious, taking up my worths ill wrong:” Lord, he’s so suspicious, taking all my words in the wrong way. “Futuous” (.34), deriving as it does (see McHugh) from Latin for “I copulate with,” may be an example; also “Conception” and “glorious lie between us” (.35). 527.34: “my futuous:” my future, and fatuous, husband, with, again, overtone of French foutre, fuck: my future fatuous fucker 527.35: “Still me with you, you poor chilled:” By the hypothesis given above (527.24-528.13), this is the priest in the confession box talking to the penitent, Issy. 527.35: “you, you:” answers “meme,” me me, of .24. A major FW motif, first sounded as the “mishe mishe to tauftauf” of 3.9-10 527.35-528.3: “Will make it up with mother Conception and a glorious lie between us, sweetness, so as not a novene in all the convent loretos, not my littlest one of all, for mercy’s sake need ever know what passed our lips or:” Again: either he will take steps to hush things up or she herself will keep it secret from the novices in the convent by telling a lie to the prioress. Although in the Catholic Church women were/are not authorized to hear confessions, this may reflect the “Mother Confessor” office for Vestal Virgins. 527.36: “mother Conception:” A prioress or superior would be addressed as “Mother.” 528.1: “sweetness:” like “Bortolo mio” (.25-6) and “Sir” (.3), addressed to the listener 528.1-2: “not my littlest one of all:” as usual, Issy is the first of FW’s rainbow girls. 528.3-4: “Clothea wind!:” close the window! (Oxford editors have “Clothe a.”) 528.4: “Banish the dread!:” for instance (“Clotheo”) Clotho, one of the (dreadful, frightening) Fates. Given context, perhaps also closing the grate in the confessional 528.4-5: “Alitten’s looking. Low him lovly! Make me feel good in the moontime:” Aladdin’s lit lamp - lower it, lover! I’ll feel good in the moonlight. (The lamp is probably the moon, lit up, remembered or imagined as seen through the window just now shut.) 528.5: “oranged:” bride’s orange blossoms. See next five entries. 528.5-6: “as oranged at St Audiens rosan chocolate chapelry:” compare 235.25-236.7. 528.6: “diamants:” Diamond Wedding Anniversary – the 60th. Compare .9 and note. 528.6-7: “blickfeast after:” traditional wedding breakfast, held after the ceremony. Also, German blick fäst: fixed attention 528.7: “catclub to go cryzy:” see McHugh: maids of honor – Issy’s leap-year contingent - crying at the wedding. (Also being catty, probably out of envy.) Also, allusion to George Herriman’s cartoon strip Krazy Kat, perhaps to Berlin’s boisterous Kit Kat Club as well 528.8: “Father Blesius Mindelsinn:” 1. Mendelsohn’s Wedding March is being performed in a church; 2. The Jewish Mendelsohn was, at the age of seven, baptized as a Christian. 528.9: “Crystal:” Crystal wedding anniversary is the 15th. 528.9-10: “Sing to us, sing to us, sing to us!: more lover talk: she wants him to sing to her and whisper sweet nothings. 528.11: “hister:” she’s looking at her “sister reflection” (220.9) in mirror and thinking of a man. Compare 459.4-6. 528.11: “(I’m fading!):” Again: Narcissus’s Echo, fading away, also the vanishing cream (see 526.29, 527.12-3) at work, also the visiting spirit fading away at the end of a séance (see note to .14, below). Much of the testimony to follow will be about twilight, when sunlight is fading. 528.11: “you, you:” an echo (of Echo: see previous note). Also, following (“meme”) me me of .10, another “mishe mishe to tauftauf” (3.9-10) 528.12: “esster:” overtone of “hister” (.11). Ess (S)+ter=”ster,” Dutch for star: Stella/aster: star: Stella 528.12-3: “Magda, Marthe with Luz and Joan, while I lie:” Child’s bedtime prayer: “Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, / Bless the bed that I lie on.” 528.13: “while I lie with warm lisp on the Tolka. (I’m fay!):” three anapests and a spondee: the same beat as at .9-10: “Sing to us, sing to us, sing to us! Amam!” 528.14: “- Eusapia!:” By the time of FW, Eusapia Palladino (see McHugh) was widely recognized as having been a fraud. This is probably the speaker’s sarcastic comment on Yawn’s supposed mediumship, just demonstrated in (supposedly) channeling Issy. 528.14-25: “Eusapia!...may?:” McHugh has the speaker as Mark. Not sure, but Matthew seems more likely. For one thing, Mark is pretty clearly the next voice, of line .26, therefore should not, according to form, be the one heard here. The tone – hard-headed, skeptical about anything metaphysical or mystical – is usually Matthew’s. 528.14-5: “Eusapia! Fais-le, tout-tait! Languishing hysteria? The clou historique?:” Responses (perhaps) to “Eulogia” (527.12), and (definitely) to “fay” (.13), “languished hister” (.10-11) and “clue” (.12). “Tout-tait” answers Issy’s vow of secrecy; also a response to “you you” (.11). The speaker (again, my candidate is Matthew) is throwing cold water on the preceding rhapsodies. 528.16: “Is dads the thing in such or are tits the that?:” Compare Stephen in “Scylla and Charybdis,” mocking AE’s mysticism: “This verily is that,” here contrasted with Kant’s matter-of-fact (“thing in such”) “Ding an Sich.” “Tits” (note the plural “are”) may be a response to “tities” (527.28). Blazes Boylan’s use of the word “titties,” remembered in “Penelope,” shows that Joyce was familiar with this slang term for breasts. 528.16-7: “suora unto suora:” compare the “sosie sesthers” of FW’s overture (3.12), where the main reference is to Swift’s two Esthers. Here, it is mainly to Issy’s looking-glass talk with her double, as just channeled by Yawn. 528.17: “twinstreams twinestraines:” compare Stephen in “Telemachus,” on another pair of spondees: “The twining stresses, two by two;” also Bloom in “Sirens:” “Blackbird I heard in the hawthorn valley. Taking my motives he twined and turned them.” Compare note to .13: in general, this FW patch seems especially sensitive to metrical scansion. Along the same line, the “e’er” of .22 suggests the same – the kind of thing one attends to in (“liryc” (.22)) lyric poetry. “Hear we here her first poseproem” (prose poem (.15)) may be saying that in general the prose hereabouts is notably poetic – true enough, to my ear. 528.18: “alas in jumboland:” “Cyclops:” “Jumbo, the elephant loves Alice, the elephant.” Jumbo and Alice were elephants in Barnum’s circus, advertised as married. 528.18-9: “Ding dong! Where’s your pal in silks alustre:” this recalls 213.19-20, the voice of a washerwoman, at dusk, hearing a bell signalling 6:00 p.m. Many of the lighting effects in the vicinity here are similarly crepuscular, including the Knock apparition, which occurred at dusk. 528.18: “pal:” anagram for both ALP and the initials of Alice Pleasance Liddell, the model for Carroll’s Alice 528.19: “Presentacion:” the young Nora Barnacle was a portress in Galway’s Presentation Convent. (See 431.30.) Spelling is probably a response to “mother Concepcion” (527.36). 528.19: “Double her, Annupciacion:” because with her impregnation at the Annunciation, Mary’s personhood doubled. Overtones of “nuptial” and “Concepcion” 528.21: “Knock and it shall appall:” “appall” is another variant on Alice as Alice Pleasance Liddell – A.P.L. – here combined with the (“Immacolacion” (.20-1)) immaculately conceived Virgin Mary of the Knock apparition (see McHugh): to be immaculate is to be pure white; “appall” means, literally, to make white, often in the sense of being appalled by something terrible. Combined with the passage described in the next entry, this would seem to be a skeptical (Protestant, Ulster) view of the Knock apparition. “Knock and it shall be opened unto you,” is, from a certain perspective, equivalent to saying that people will see what they want to see. “Scheining” combines “shining” (the apparition was white and glowing) with German Schein, appearance as opposed to reality. Devil’s-advocate accounts of the Knock apparition attributed it to mirage-like weather-related optical effects combined with wishful-thinking pareidolia - the tendency to find patterns in indeterminate input. 528.21-3: “Who shone yet shimmers will be e’er scheining. Cluse her, voil her, hild her hindly. After lyric and themodius soft aglo iris of the vals:” in a familiar FW transformation, pure white light (“Immacolacion,” “appall”) refracts into (“iris”) the colors of the rainbow, for instance by way of Issy’s “(voil her”) veil: compare 527.23. As Stephen recalls in “Proteus,” the veil of the Temple, as prescribed in Exodus 26:31-2, was multi-colored. Possibles: “Cluse her, voil her, hild her hindly” may be the pregnant Mary’s period of confinement – enclosed, veiled, hidden. “Themodius soft aglo:” a bit of poetry: the meadows soft aglow with rainbow colors veiling the valley. (Again: the apparition at Knock has been attributed to optical effects from the weather: sun, mist, reflection.) As McHugh notes, “lyric,” “aglo” and “vals” are “Cyril,” “Olga,” and “Slav” spelled backwards: more mirror trickery, in a sequence characterized by metamorphizing optics. 528.23-4: “This young barlady, what, euphemiasly?:” what’s a euphemism for “bargirl?” “Barlady” would be one. By any name, not the most respectable of female occupations. Applied to the Virgin Mary, it may be reflecting suspicions (including her husband’s) that someone else beside the Holy Ghost was responsible for her condition. Again, this would be an Ulster/Matthew-like sentiment, consistent with his take on the apparition at Knock. 528.26: “Dang!:” Mark speaking. Response to “Ding dong!” (.18) 528.27: “Dis and dat and dese and dose!:” “Dang” was a distinctively American expression, and the ones imitated here would invariably have signaled Brooklynese. Mark’s Cork (“cove” (.31): see McHugh) was the point of departure for most of the Irish heading for America, and Brooklyn was a frequent destination. 528.27: “crackling out of your turn, my Moonster firefly:” back to radio interference – although, during the FW years, there was no Munster radio station. (For that matter, Ireland has no fireflies, either.) 528.27-529.22: “Dis…Hookup!:” an impossibly lengthy, wide-ranging, and mainly disassociated string of accusatory questions, with no intermittent or ensuing opportunity for the accused to respond. This ends the interrogation. Probably not a source, but it resembles, for instance, Mrs. Joe’s inquisitorial harangue in Great Expectations: “And couldn't she ask Uncle Pumblechook if he knew of a boy to go and play there? Isn't it just barely possible that Uncle Pumblechook may be a tenant of hers, and that he may sometimes — we won't say quarterly or half-yearly, for that would be requiring too much of you — but sometimes — go there to pay his rent? And couldn't she then ask Uncle Pumblechook if he knew of a boy to go and play there? And couldn't Uncle Pumblechook, being always considerate and thoughtful for us — though you may not think it, Joseph,” in a tone of the deepest reproach, as if he were the most callous of nephews, “then mention this boy, standing Prancing here” — which I solemnly declare I was not doing — “that I have for ever been a willing slave to?” 528.28-9: “And 2 R.N. and Longhorns Connacht:” interference from other Irish stations – although, again, there was no Munster (or Connacht) station. The two Irish-based broadcasting stations were Radio Athlone (“2 R.N.”) and Belfast. 528.29-31: “You’ve grabbed the capital and you’ve had the lion’s shire since 1542 but there’s all the difference in Ireland between your borderation, my chatty cove, and me:” It seems odd that Ulster should be complaining about English sovereignty, made official in 1542, and unclear how Munster could be said to have “grabbed the capital.” (“Capital” in the sense of money? Still odd: Ulster has the lion’s share of that too.) Just to further confuse, 1642-1649 were the only years in Irish history when Dublin was not the capital. (It was moved temporarily to Kilkenny, Leinster.) 528.30: “lion’s:” British lion. Also, if I’m right that Mark of Munster is being addressed, the lion of Saint Mark. 528.30: “lion’s shire:” lion’s share: an ambiguous expression: it can mean either most or all. Perhaps also a garbling of “Leinster,” site of Dublin, Ireland’s capital 528.31: “borderation:” botheration: the radio interference; probably also refers to the border setting off Northern Ireland. 528.31: "chatty:" verminous. (Source: Digger Dialects) 528.31: “chatty cove:” Munster is generally presented as the smooth-talking one – the Blarney Stone is in Munster. Also, and again, J.V. Kelleher once told me that Corkonians had a reputation for being “cute;” compare, with notes, “foxyjack” (.36) and “cheek” (.37). (Incidental note: Page 528 is, I think, one of FW’s two pages to have 37 lines.) 528.31-3: “The leinstrel boy to the wall is gone, and there’s moreen astoreen for Monn and Conn:” The Leinster boy has been executed by a firing squad. Matthew’s point here, as elsewhere (e.g. 521.28-31), is that as Ulster he can outfight the other three put together: Leinster is done with, and if Munster and Connacht don’t watch their step, there’s more in store for them. See next. 528.32-3: “and there’s moreen astoreen for Monn and Conn:” lion’s-share-wise, makes a kind of sense: without Leinster in the picture, there’d be more in store for Munster and Connacht. (And, of course, Ulster) 528.32: “moreen astoreen:” in Gaelic, a sweet, innocent young Irish lass 528.33: “tyke’s:” dog’s. See next entry. 528.33-4: “Doggymens’ nimmer win!:” “Document Number One” called for the partition of Ulster from the rest of Ireland; the result was civil war. 528.34-5: “You last led the first when we last but we’ll first trump your last with a lasting:” language of contract bridge, perhaps a “post-mortem” discussion of its ultimate imaginable sin, a trumped ace (“first”). (Bridge became newly fashionable during the FW years; according to one perhaps apocryphal story, in one game a wife shot and killed her partner, her husband, for trumping her ace.) Contract bridge has four players around a table, likely corresponding to the four provinces. Playing “out of your turn” (.27) is a major offense. 528.35: “Jump the railchairs:” jump the rails: careen off course. A rail chair was part of the arrangement for keeping train rails fixed in place. 528.36: “foxyjack:” Simon Dedalus in Portrait, on a fellow Corkonian: “There’s more cunning in one of those warts on his bald head than in a pack of jack foxes.” Continuing the card-playing strain, a jack is a playing card. 528.36: “Ye’ve:” as elsewhere in II.3, “ye” for “you” signifies Matthew of Ulster. 328.36-7-328.1: “Ye’ve as much skullabogue cheek on you now a would boil a caldron of kalebrose:” as noted by McHugh, Scullabogue was the site of an English atrocity – women and children burned alive. Matthew is really upping the ante here. Having just bragged about sending the “leinstrel boy” to the firing-squad “wall” (.32), he now reminds the natives that it could be even worse, if they show any more of their impudent “cheek.” 529.1: “Hayden Wombwell:” from Women of Today, 1925, page 305: “In England, Miss Ida Wombwell, seventeen years old, is the leader of a religious revival mission, preaching from the pulpit of a Methodist Chapel in Nottingham.” 529.2: “given the raspberry:” another Americanism, otherwise known as a Bronx cheer: a rude noise made with the lips – rude because mimicking the sound of a fart, something Kate does at 141.34 and threatens to do at 530.36. 529.2: “more than sandsteen per cent of chalk in the purity:” according to reports of the time, any more than two percent of chalk in the flour (see next entry) would have been detectable, as proof of adulteration. 529.3: “perfection flour:” both a brand and a term for pure flour, unadulterated by alum, chalk, etc. 529.3-4: “raw materialist:” raw materials 529.5: “brandnew braintrust:” FDR’s brain trust – a group of academics and intellectuals chosen to advise the president – first became prominent in 1933. 529.6-8: “with maternal sanction compellably empanelled at quarter sessions under the six disqualifications for the uniformication of young persons:” as McHugh notes, the Sex Disqualifications Act of 1919, removing legal barriers for women in professions, on juries, etc. “Maternal” suggests a nanny-state dimension: women newly empowered to do what they always did, maternally sanctioning, in both opposite senses, the young. “Young persons” was a legal term sometimes used setting the age of consent. Compare entries for .8-9, .12. 529.7:-8: “uniformication of young persons:” fornication with young persons. See next note. (Also, to whip the young into “uniform” regimentation. Long shot: embedded “formica:” ant-like) 529.8-9: “Committal man Number Underfifteen:” Controversy about what should be the legal age of consent was current in Joyce’s youth. In mid-Victorian Britain, it had been a felony for a man to have intercourse with a female under thirteen, a misdemeanor when she was under fifteen. Some of the language of this passage registers the “purity crusade” of W.T. Stead, Josephine Butler, and their allies, including the Salvation Army and S.P.C.C., who in 1886 succeeded in having the age of consent raised to sixteen. See next entry. 529.12: “the two dreeper’s assistents:” Swift as drapier, with his two (younger, one considerably younger) women 529.12-3: “service books:” guide books for performing religious services 529.15: “anterim:” Antrim is one of the six counties of Ulster. 529.15: “three tailors:” corresponding to the three soldiers of the park scandal, as the statutory-rape-age “Underfifteen” “Misses Mirtha and Merry” (.9, .11-12) correspond to the two temptresses 529.16: “O’Bejorumsen or Mockmacmahonitch:” Galway edict: “Neither O nor Mac shall strut nor swagger through the streets of Galway.” 529.16-7: “ex of Butt and Hocksett’s:” a version of “formerly of” some firm or establishment. As McHugh notes, the firm’s name echoes “butt” and “hogshead” – a reminder that the figure under investigation is or started off as a barrel, for example a “barrel of bellywash” (.17). (Another reminder: the ongoing testimony about the contents, for instance the percentage of “chalk in the purity” (.2-3)) 529.17: “bushel standard:” official unit of measurement established by Parliament. Goes with earlier testimony about flour adulteration (.2-4). In general, the speaker right now is concerned about rules and regulations. 529.20-3: “this hackney man in the coombe…Fauxfitzhuorson…when he might have been setting on his jonass inside like a Glassthure cabman:” probably James Fitzharris, cabman involved in the Phoenix Park murders; Ulysses puts either him or a look-alike in the cabman’s shelter of “Eumaeus;” “Faux-“ because he may be a bogus version. 529.21: “eggshaped fuselage:” Zeppelins were frequently described as “egg-shaped.” The Zeppelin company in question (see next entry) also made airplanes, that is, flying machines with fuselages. 529.21: “made in Fredborg into the bullgine:” as McHugh notes, “Fredborg” is short for Friedrichshafen, a center for the production of zeppelins. (As in “Oxen of the Sun,” a bullgine is a ship’s steam engine. Zeppelins were powered by diesel engines.) Since the identity of the egg-shaped object in question is uncertain, this echo of “into the bargain” may be a way of saying, Here’s yet another reason for thinking it was a zeppelin. 529.22: “across his back:” aside from being fat, HCE is often depicted as a hunchback. 529.23: “jonass:” male counterpart to jenny-ass. As (McHugh) Jonah, this may suggest that the “eggshaped fuselage” doubled as a whale. HCE is fat and is sometimes equated with Humpty Dumpty. 529.24: “doughboys:” nobody really knows how American soldiers got to be “doughboys,” but the epithet is consistent with reports of HCE’s general flabbiness. 529.24: “doughboys, three by nombres, won in ziel:” hombres: men. Also, as “doughboys,” three by “nombres,” not “numbers,” because they served in France. Perhaps also the (French) three musketeers, one for all and, in their zeal (or, as McHugh notes, German ziel, goal) all for one. Oxford editors have “doughboys, or Marchester marchers, three” – adding the “Manchester Martyrs,” three Irishmen hanged by England in 1867, to the marchers. 529.24: “ziel:” zeal 529.24-5: “cavehill exers:” caveman ethics, caveman sex. Compare 60.14. Equal-oppositely, the Cavaliers of the English Civil War. (Lower-case “cavalier” may re-reverse to some extent.) 529.25: “V.D.:” soldiers were notorious for venereal disease. Perhaps a (sardonic) answer to the “D.V.” of 527.26. 529.26: “glenagearries directing:” Glengarries: distinctive cap worn by Scottish regiments of the British army. (Most writers would probably have put a comma between these two words.) 529.27: “R. U. C.’s:” in 1922, as part of its participation in the Irish Civil War, Ulster’s branch of the Royal Irish Constabulary changed its name to the Royal Ulster Constabulary. Its membership included the infamous Black and Tans, many of them hardened, and brutalized, by service in the recent Great War. See next entry. 529.27: “trench ulcers:” Ulsters, combined or identified with “trench coats,” waterproof coats which got their name from their use in the trenches of WW I. Ulcers were symptomatic of several medical conditions resulting from life in the trenches. “Trench foot” was the best-known affliction. 529.29: “confronted with this obstruction:” of “Fauxfitzhuorson,” with his “eggshaped fuselage” (.20-1) 529.30: “pfuffpfaffing:” versions of this expression occur in various languages. In German, paff, piff, paff, puff! is or was “Hooray!” Also, see McHugh: puffing on his pipe – another feature of the park scandal, although in the first telling it was HCE’s opposite, the “cad,” who had the pipe. 529.31: “proved up to the scabsteethshilt:” as McHugh notes, “proved up to the hilt.” Latin for scabbard is vagina. A sword has a hilt, and goes in a scabbard. On the other hand, there is the expression “lying in his teeth.” 529.32-3: “shaved lamb breeches, child’s kilts, bibby buntings and wellingtons, with club, torc and headdress:” items of clothing here number seven – an HCE signature. 529.32: “shaved lamb:” that is, lambskin. Could be either with or without wool, that is shaved or not 529.34: “hengster’s circus:” Hengler’s Royal Circus, the (“unjoyable”) enjoyable “show” (.36) mentioned several times in Ulysses 530.1-3: “halfprice naturals…deffydowndummies:” a pretty nasty circus, all in all, reminiscent of sideshow freakshows, or of Roman circus entertainments, with their public torment of the deformed: half-wits let in at half price so they can watch epileptics imitating hunchbacks and the blind making fun of the deaf and dumb. Everybody seems to be drunk. 530.2-3: “blinds…taking off the deffydowndummies:” a variant on “the blind leading the blind:” the blind leading the deaf 530.3: “deffydowndummies:” nursery rhyme. “Daffy-down-dilly has come to town / With a yellow petticoat / And a pretty green gown.” 530.4: “complaining to the police barracks:” see note to .16-7. Chapelizod had a police station. 530.6-9: “by offers of vacancies from females in this city, neighing after the man and his outstanding attraction ever since they seen his X ray picture turned out in wealthy red in the sabbath sheets:” women have been asking him to marry ever since they read that he was rich. “Sabbath sheets:” Sunday papers, a regular source of society news. (Compare 147.25 and note.) 530.8: “outstanding attraction:” typical come-on for circus acts and other public entertainments 530.8-9: “his X ray picture turned out in wealthy red in the sabbath sheets:” red letters – rubrics - in church Bibles emphasizing certain passages, sometimes but not always those believed to be divinely inspired – Jesus’s (“X”’s) words in particular. Also, a fairly clear insinuation of wedding-night deflowering, leaving bloody sheets; compare 213.24-6. Saturday is the traditional day for weddings. 530.9: “wealthy red:” well-read. Appearing in “sheets” of newspaper, may include ancient riddle, ”What’s black and white and red/read all over?” 530.9-10: “litterydistributer in Saint Patrick’s Lavatory:” compare Bloom’s idea (“Lestrygonians”) for putting a clap quack’s ads on display in men’s lavatories. Also, in upper-class men’s rooms, attendants would hand out towels to users. 530.10: “that surdumutual son of his, a litterydistributer:” this would be Shaun, the (sometimes) sourd, deaf half of the two brothers, in his postman’s job of delivering letters. 530.11: “turn a Roman and leave the chayr and gout:” become a priest and leave the carnal world of flesh (French chair) and blood (in gouts). Also, Roman Catholics (“leave”) believe that during the mass the wafer and wine are turned into the flesh and blood of Jesus. 530.11-2: “gout in his bare balbriggans:” go out in his bare brogues. (Without socks? Or vice-versa?) McHugh notes that Balbriggan “made hosiery, buskins etc.,” and Mink glosses as “stockings.” In “Oxen of the Sun,” someone’s “D’ye ken bare socks?” is a comment on of how down-and-out the man in the macintosh appears to be. 530.12-3: “buy the usual jar of porter at the Morgue and Cruses:” it was common practice to buy porter, etc. at a pub and bring it home. “Morgue and Cruses” is a made-up pub name, this one with dolorous churchly overtones. 530.14: “fireman’s halmet:” perhaps because of ALP’s “auburnt” (139.23) hair, based on Nora’s auburn hair. Compare her “The Flash that Flies from Vuggy’s Eyes has Set Me Hair On Fire” (106.26-7). 530.14: “hoose:” hootch: liquor 530.16-7: “under the noses of the Heliopolitan constabulary:” they were carrying on under the very noses of the police. One example is the “gendarm” (.17) Sackerson, about to be summoned. As itemized above (see note to 7.28-9), Chapelizod had a Metropolitan Police Station, and the village’s most famous resident was Tim Healy. 530.17: “Can you beat it?:” compare 180.31. The words there refer to Shem, whose delinquencies, then as now, require the intervention of the law. 530.17: “gendarm:” probably “goddam” – during the Hundred Years War a French term for an English soldier, because that was the favorite English expression; Shaw’s 1923 Saint Joan includes this datum. 530.18: “sappertillery:” supernumerary. Also, combines two military units, sappers and artillery 530.19-20: “with the trunchein up his tail:” a policeman’s billyclub, secreted up his rear. This certainly sounds like a criticism of his constabulary competence: he was (see .16-7) one of the police “under” whose “noses” some flagrant misbehaving went on. 530.21: “Recall Sickerson, the lizzyboy:” first Google Books hit for La-Z-Boy chairs is 1925. Sackerson – see, e.g., next entry – is consistently slothful. 530.23: “Day shirker:” day worker who shirks – again, a “lizzyboy”/lazy boy (.21) 530.23: “vanfloats:” response to “van” (.21) 530.24: “High Liquor:” Heil Hitler; note “arian-” in “arianautic” (.18). Of Scandinavian ancestry, Sackerson would qualify. (That he is, in all ways except “butterblond” hair (429.18) and general pugnacity, the opposite of the Aryan ideal may be part of the point.) Compare the possible overtone of Sieg! Heil! In “Sackerson! Hookup!” (.22). 530.24: “High liquor made lust torpid:” well, yes. Among many testimonies to this effect, the Porter’s of Macbeth is probably the best-known – that liquor “provokes” lechery but “takes away the performance.” See next. 530.24: “torpid dough:” unleavened bread, which will not rise 530.25-30: “-Hunt…spew!:” probably, not definitely, the voice of Matthew - because of the overall percussiveness and the indignation on behalf of the “protestant religion.” 530.27: “when he upped their frullatullepleats:” see 493.6 and note, and, again, compare Molly in “Penelope:” “the next time he turned up my clothes on me.” Women’s skirts can/could be frilly, pleated. (At the risk of being obvious, “her shoes upon his shoulders” (.26) probably signifies a sexual encounter.) 530.27: “with our:” without 530.28: “A disgrace to the homely protestant religion:” this defense of Protestantism marks the speaker as – still – Matthew. (So does his readiness (.25) to interpret the cryptic “hunt her orchid” (.24) as a gross sexual innuendo – lecherous thoughts hiding behind (Protestant) puritanical prudery.) At least at this juncture, the accused is the Anglican HCE, whose voice will take over at 532.6. See next. 530.29: “twohandled umberella:” in Ulysses, Nelson is the “onehandled adulterer.” 530.29-30: “Trust me to spy on my own spew!:” that is, as a Protestant myself, I’m the one to inform on those of the congregation who have disgraced the name. The tone may be sarcastic. 530.32: “Wallpurgies!:” “-purg-“ as “purge:” perhaps a response to “spew.” Also, Kate (Sackerson’s accompaniment and the next speaker) is sometimes presented as a witch – hence “succuba” (.33), as in succubus – and Walpurgis Night is a witch’s meeting. 530.32: “pray for Bigmesser’s’ conversions:” compare “Lestrygonians:” “prayers for the conversion of Gladstone [to Catholicism] they had too when he was almost subconscious.” Gladstone was the “Grand Old Man.” (See second note to .36.) Also, bigamist; see note to .35, 531.10. Also, a Bessemer converter – another way of purging impurities, in this case from iron. 530.32-3: “Call Kitty the Beads:” The speaker considers himself beneath praying for the likes of Bigmesser. Instead, they should get the reliably pious Kate, with her beads, to do the job. (See second note to .36.) 530.33: “Beads:” rosary beads – distinctively Catholic property; see third note to .36. 530.33: “Mandame:” Kate is a mannish woman. (When people get older, “he’ll resemble she” (135.33).) Also, a pantomime “dame” is always played by a man – a man dame. 530.34: “the improvable:” an issue of the time was whether the lower orders could be “improved.” Possibly sarcastic 530.34: “cookinghagar:” Kate the cook; Hagar, Sarah’s maid, bearer of Abraham’s first child Ishmael. See second note to .35. At times (this sequence, from 530.34 to 531.26, probably comes closest), FW seems to imply that Kate is or somehow corresponds to HCE’s first wife, or perhaps the “other” woman left in the lurch when he married ALP. Her following reference to him as “Ouhr Former” (.36) may support this reading. (“Former” has this sense at 619.3.) More generally, she is the oldest member of FW’s female triad – Issy, ALP, Kate. 530.35: “upon the top of the stairs:” compare 556.31-557.12. Servants’ quarters would normally be in the uppermost room, at the very top of the stairs. 530.35: “She’s deep, that one:” Sarah and Ishmael were saved when the angel of God showed Sarah a well. (Zamzam, near where the Kaaba is situated, is named at 105.7) 530.36: “A farternoiser for his tuckish armenities:” Gladstone publicized and campaigned against Turkish atrocities against the Armenians. (Disraeli downplayed the issue, although presumably not to this vulgar extent.) 530.36: “farternoiser…Our Former:” a “paternoster” – Our Father - would begin a round of bead-telling; it begins with (“Our Former”) “Our father. Also – Joyce can seldom resist such conjunctions - a noise of farting: compare Kate’s contribution at 141.34: “phwhtphwht.” (In turn, compare to Bloom’s finale for “Sirens:” “Pprrpffrrppffff;” also, compare 496.13 and note.) See note to .32-3: Kate doesn’t want to pray for Bigmesser either. 530.36: “tuckish:” possibly a coincidence, but this (for “Turkish”) and a number of similar FW distortions can be found in Thackeray’s Diary of C. Jeames de la Pluche, Esq; compare 177.30. 530.36-531.1: “Ouhr Former who erred in having down to gibbous disdag our darling breed:” a version of what J. S. Atherton singles out as the heresy on which FW is built, that Creation and the Fall were simultaneous, that God is the Original Sinner. Here, God is responsible for the degeneration of the race, from an original “darling breed” down to (“gibbous”) monkeys. Reverses Darwin; see next. 531.1: “darling breed:” given the same line’s “gibbous” (gibbons: monkeys) and the overall implications of innate inferiority, “darling” certainly includes Darwin. Compare 252.28: “Charley, you’re my darwing!” 531.2: “boob’s indulligence:” selling of pope’s indulgences, one of the issues that resulted in the Reformation, then the (“Councillors-om-Trent” (.3)) - Counter-Reformation of the Council of Trent, which has (“sunctioned” (.2)) sanctioned the practice, especially as practiced as (see next entry) in Ireland in general, Dublin in particular. 531.3: “salmenbog:” psalm book; probably also Dublin as salmon bog 531.3: “Councillors-om-Trent:” England’s River Trent, prone to flooding, is boggy. 531.3-4: “Pave Pannem at his gaiter’s bronze:” as McHugh notes, a “Beware the Dog” sign on his gate. (P/K split.) Compare 54.9-10: “bleak and bronze portal.” In context (Protestant-Catholic dispute), possibly alludes to Swiss Guards at Bronze Portal of Vatican Apostolic Palace. Also, according to one version of biblical prophecy, Jesus is to break hell’s “gates of bronze,” in which case the Canem to beware of would be Cerberus. 531.4-5: “Mosser’s:” response to “Bigmesser’s” (530.32) 531.5-6: “messaged his dilltoyds sausepander mussels:” she’s cooking a mess of muscles (with sausages, in the saucepan); she’s massaging a muscle mass, his. This begins a sequence, lasting until the end of the paragraph (.26), where amatory action is remembered in the language of kitchenware or related articles. Kate, once an object of desire, is now a kitchen drudge. Besides those cited below: kissing as “kisschen” (.6); flesh as goose-fat / gander-fat and dough (.7); a heated face as a “braising red” “toastface” (.7); a passion-scratched back as barmbrack (McHugh: “a speckled cake” (.10)); love as “loaf” (.11); offspring-begetting patriarch Noah as “pastryart’s” (.11); vagina as (“flouer bouckuet” (.12)) flour bucket; a voyeuristic stranger as a (“strainger” (.12) strainer; hugging and squeezing as “squeezers” (.12) tongs; heart as kitchen “hearth” (.12); someone heated with passion as being “sizzled” (.14) with passion; a picture of a sexy dancer a “pitcher” (.15), “refined” like flour (.16); a bust with a brooch puffing out like a (“brooche”) brioche (.16); “jigotty” / gigot / leg of lamb sleeves (see McHugh (.17)); “Whisk!” (.18), an enticing dance move, as a wire whisk; buttocks as “hams” (.19); two pantomime acts in part named “Griddle” and “Soles” (.21-2); a lady-like “ladlelike” (.23), her can-can act a matter of cans, pots, and pans (.24-5), shaking and stirring someone up, and “Fuddling” him by filling his can (.26-6). 531.5-6: “sausepander mussels:” suspender muscles, otherwise called “external obliques,” here kitchenized into mussels in a saucepan. (Although the earliest Google Books hit is 1950, this reading, for a passage coming right after “I messaged his dilltoyds,” his deltoid muscles, seems, to your annotator, almost certain.) According to Wikipedia, they are “one of the outermost abdominal muscles, extending from the lower half of the ribs around and down to the pelvis.” 531.6: “ironing duck:” a linen cloth laid on the ironing board. She is ironing his back. From Herbert W. Page, Railway Injuries, 1891, p. 100: "Thus it is that ironing the back with an iron as hot as can be borne is frequently an admirable remedy" for chronic back conditions. 531.7: “rollpins:” a rolling pin held in a woman’s hand was a cartoon signature for termagants. 531.7: “do dodo doughdy dough:” aside from Kate’s rolling dough, this sounds like her humming or chanting while she’s doing it. Compare her fellow servant walking his beat: “big the dog the dig the bog the bagger the dugger the begadag degabug” (186.20-1). 531.9-10: “kiddledrum steeming and rattling like the roasties in my mockamill:” hectic passion-driven heartbeat and pulsings, sounding like a steaming kettle and the grinding of roasted coffee beans in her coffee mill 531.10: “I awed to have scourched his Abarm’s brack for him:” perhaps obvious, but scratching a man’s back during sex is 1. a sign of enthusiasm, and, 2. a way of marking him, not to say incriminating him, in case he has another partner. See 530.34: Sarah was jealous of Hagar. A “brack” is a flaw or tear in cloth; occurs in “Penelope.” 531.10-11: “Abarm’s (Abraham’s]…pastryart’s” [patriarch’s]:” see next, and note to 530.34. 531.11: “Obadiah:” minor biblical prophet, accompanied by major figure (“noas”) Noah 531.11-2: “take your pastryart’s noas out of me flouer bouckuet!:” lying on front on the kitchen table while she massages his back, his nose is in the vicinity of her vagina. 531.12: “flouer bouckuet:” a flour bucket for the kitchen, but “bouckuet” / bouquet would go with a flower bucket. Both items were and are real. More back-and-forth here between homely local language and aspiration to French fashion, with Joyce anticipating the “Bucket” / “Bouquet” of BBC 1’s Keeping Up Appearances. 531.13: "as dream of the hearth thou reinethst alhome:" as queen of the heart though reinest alone. As queen of the heart thou reignest alone: quoting a sweet nothing he once said to her, back in theday. Allusion to Madame de Pompadour, mistress to Louis XV and, because of her court influence, called the "reinette." 531.13-8: “His…touloosies:” horizontal, being massaged by an old woman, he gazes lasciviously at a picture of her younger self, from when she was a dancing girl. 531.16: “bust alla brooche:” a brooch on her bust. (“Alla,” as in “chicken a la king,” is more kitchen language.) 531.17: “padbun:” paired with bust, her bum, padded out. 531.17: “jigotty:” compare Bloom, in “Sirens,” on conductor’s trousers during performance: “jiggedy jiggedy.” Also, see 534.36-535.1. 531.18: “toulong touloosies:” As McHugh notes, Toulouse -Lautrec. She’s been doing provocative dances, including the can-can, and here he is, painting her. “Toulong” may echo “Moulin,” as in Moulin Rouge. Still, this is Ireland, not Paris, and the doings are tamer. Directed by Kate, the man on the kitchen table is looking at a picture of her young self imitating the “refined soubrette” (.16) Katy Lanner, a soubrette but definitely a refined one, and her version of the can-can is (“ladlelike” (.23)) lady-like: in FW, as in “Circe,” pictures tend to come to life. (Even here, some qualification: the real name was Katti Lanner. Her background was in ballet. (Compare note to .29). Later she was a choreographer in London ballet and theatre – where, according to Wikipedia, she sometimes “had to make concessions to music hall audiences.” All in all, “soubrette” seems an impertinence – Miss Lanner would probably have been offended.) By .25, with “shake up pfortner,” French routines will have turned into a good old square dance: take your partner. 531.19: “hams:” again, buttocks 531.19: “juppettes:” jupette: French for short skirt, covering the hams, sometimes 531.20: “What’s this?:” comment a nom: in Rabelais, the vagina. Some more can-can peek-a-boo 531.21: “flea pantamine:” free pantomime; flea circus. Fleas are famous as jumpers. See next entry. 531.22: “pucieboots:” puce is French for flea. Having flea-boots would make you a great jumper, able to “kick…kickakickkack” (.23-5) impressively. Also, overtone of “Plurabelle.” Also, in “Telemachus,” Mulligan imagines wearing “puce gloves” as a sign of dandyism. Also, “pussy” as slang for vagina was around in Joyce’s day – compare note to .20. Also and oppositely, Puss in Boots, noted by McHugh, was a favorite figure in Christmas pantomimes. 531.22: “Shusies-with-her-Soles-Up or La Sauzerelly:” while the latter stage name goes with her imitation of French fashion, the former sounds awfully homey: high-kicking, she has her shoe soles up. (On the other hand, compare 530.26-7: “With her shoes upon his shoulders, ‘twas most trying to beholders.”) 531.23: “I started to hobmop ladlelike:” compare 547.20-1: “she began to bump a little bit.” As McHugh notes, a line from the song “What Ho! She Bumps!” 531.23: “ladlelike, highty tighty:” her lady-like pretensions, under the circumstances, are a bit hoity-toity. Music hall high-kickers wore tights. 531.24-5: “cluckclock lucklock quamquam camcam potapot panapan kickakickkack:” to my ears, the finale of a (“camcam”) can-can, which, as McHugh notes, has been in progress since .15 531.25: “shake up pfortner:” take up [your] partner: square dance and/or ballet. 531.26: “Fuddling fun for Fullacan’s sake:” repeatedly filling the can (of liquor) would lead to a fuddled state. 531.27-532.5: “-All…Doff!:” Who is the speaker here? Your annotator thinks it’s probably Luke of Leinster. Like Matthew of Ulster he’s bossy, but Mathew would not likely address anyone as “genral” and “guvnor” (.28, 29). Not provincial enough for Johnny, not loquacious enough for Mark. By guesswork process of elimination, probably Luke, as a rule the hardest of the four to identify. 531.28: “finicking about Finnegan and fiddling:” see previous entry: response to “Fuddling fun for Fullacan’s sake” 531.28-9: “fiddling with his faddles:” fiddle-faddle: nonsense 531.29: “ballot:” ballet – again, Katti Lanner’s profession 531.29: “guvnor:” British slang for boss or person in charge. (Again, whoever the speaker here, it isn’t likely to be Matthew.) 531.30-1: “top her drive:” stop her (Kate’s) drivel 531.31: “to tip the tap of this, at last:” a last reminder that the object of inquiry has been a barrel 531.31-2: “His thoughts that would be words, his livings that have been deeds:” language of Confiteor: a response to “confisieur” (.2) 531.34: “Trancenania:” Tranceland 531.34: “Terreterry’s Hole:” Territorial 531.35: “Stutterers’ Corner:” Mink gives this a “?”. I suggest Speaker’s Corner, Hyde Park. Also, FW’s stutterer is HCE, now being summoned; he will emerge (“bubub brought” (522.7)) stuttering. 531.35: “to find the Yokeoff his letter:” given following “Yokan” and “jousters,” to find (get) the joke of his letter. Also, probably, jack off: semen can be used for invisible ink. (See 111.26-112.2, 246.30.) Egg yolk – the letter was found by a hen, and painters mixed egg yolk into tempera (184.11-185.12) – may also figure in. 536.36: “jousters of the king:” both (McHugh) court jesters and the king’s champions in a jousting tournament 536.36: “Kovnor-Journal:” the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland was (see U 10.1213) also the “General Governor;” his residence was in Phoenix Park, to which the Mullingar Inn is adjacent. Compare “guvnor” (.29). Possibly a reason for thinking the speaker is Luke of Leinster. 532.1: “eirenarch’s:” absolute ruler of (Eire) Ireland – until independence, the “king” (531.36), as represented by (see previous entry) the Lord Lieutenant and General Governor. 532.1 "meg of megs:" French expression Meg des Megs, for God 532.2: “Off with your persians!:” I suggest that this combines two of Lear’s lines in the “blasted heath” section of King Lear: “Off, off, you lendings,” and (Lear to the naked Edgar): “only I do not like the fashion of your garments: you will say they are Persian attire [that is, fancy]; but let them be changed.” McHugh notes that “Fa Fe Fi Fo Fum!” (.4) echoes Edgar’s “Fi, fo, and fum” from the same sequence; I would also match “Ho, croak, evildoer!” with Lear’s “hide thee, thou bloody hand, / Thou perjured,” etc.). 532.3: “shriving sheet:” probably winding sheet. A dying communicant would have been shriven soon before death. See next entry. 532.3: “croak:” American slang for die. Also, somewhat equal-oppositely, to speak, hoarsely. 532.4: “Arise, sir ghostus:” again, equal opposites: sounds like a request to come back to life, is actually the reverse. Illustrations, animations, and movies of the time (for instance the 1937 Topper) showed translucent ghosts/spirits rising from the body of the deceased at the moment of death. Also, we have just heard that he is “under” a “sheet” (.3) – which would make him look like the standard idea of a ghost. 532.4: “sir ghostus:” the Roman Emperor Augustus. One of HCE’s most frequent identities. The long monologue beginning here will, as of 538.18 (see entry), conclude with a version of Augustus’s self-congratulatory Res Gestae Divi Augustus. HCE’s wife’s middle name is Livia, after Augustus’s wife. Joyce’s middle name was Augusta. Possible overtone of once-popular exclamation, "Great Caesar's Ghost!" 532.4-5: “As long as you’ve lived there’ll be no other:” another instance, I suggest, where a comma, here after “lived,” would have been standard for most writers – in which case, the sense is: like a biblical patriarch, you’ve lived such a long time that no one since has matched it and no one ever will. 532.5: “Doff!:” the (ghost’s) sheet, that is; perhaps also Augustus’s toga 532.6: “Heil!:” again, Heil Hitler! Compare 530.24. “Heil!” was the Nazi’s imitation of the “Hail Caesar!” of Augustus’s Rome. Your annotator in on record as thinking that, James Joyce, his family, and, perhaps, John McCormack aside, Hitler is the twentieth century figure most often heard about or heard from in Finnegans Wake. 532.7: “I am bubub brought up under a camel act:” as McHugh notes, “camel” is Danish for old. The point being made – along with the guilty stuttering – is that the statutes he is accused of breaking are ridiculously ancient and outmoded; instead, the court should listen to what people are saying about him nowadays. 527.7: “pontofacts massimust:” The Emperor (Augustanus” (.11)) Augustus, with whom HCE is identifying, declared himself Pontifex Maximus – head of church as well as state. Also, as McHugh notes, the expression “in point of fact,” which by .14-15 will have become a “matter of fict,” fact as fiction. 532.9-10: “Shitric…Thord:” shit…turd. Expresses his opinion of the laws in question. See McHugh: the two rulers named would be villains to the Irish. 532.10: “Allenglisches:” compare “Cyclops” – the German joke-name “Kriegfried Uberallgemein” 532.11-12: “from Augustanus to Ergastulus:” see McHugh: from the highest (the emperor) to the lowest (slaves) 532.15: “halfwife:” occurs in texts of biblical commentary: can mean either concubine or a wife, like Sarah, who shares her husband with another woman. Compare 530.34, .35, 531.10 and notes. 532.17-8: “I perpetually kept my ouija ouija wicket up:” no idea what this means in cricket, but as a general expression someone who “keeps his wicket up” is a team player – he thinks of the other fellows more than of his own performance. 532.18: “ouija:” Ouija boards were and are used for the kind of spirit-summoning that has just transpired. See note to 533.31. 532.18: “On my verawife:” He is swearing “On my very life.” 532.18: “verawife:” compare “Nausicaa:” “Madame Vera Verity.” Implies truthfulness 532.19-20: “trespass against parson:” legal term: “trespass against persons,” signifying various kinds of property infringement 532.20: “youthful gigirl frifrif friend chirped:” a pair of doubled dots (Issy signature), and “chirped” may recall 244.30: “the birds, tommelise two, quail silent. ii.” As usual, the father’s stammering signifies guilt – here, about the daughter. 532.21: “Apples:” again: A. P. L., initials of Lewis Carroll’s Alice Pleasance Liddell 532.21: “cousines:” giving the French for “cousins” specifies them as females. Again, probably dodging the daughter issue – niece, cousins. His sin typically involves something improper with a girl or girls. 532.21-3: “Miss Dashe…dot:” again, Morse dash-to-dot is a signature of Tristan and Iseult communication. See note to .20, above. 532.22: “Gigglotte’s:” giglot: in Shakespeare (and the Shakespearian “Scylla and Charybdis”) a lewd woman 532.22-3: “touch to her dot and feel most greenily of her unripe ones:” touch her clitoris (“Circe”’s “bachelor’s button;” in “Nausicaa,” “Press the button and the bird will squeak”) and fondle her breasts, which are as yet, like green apples, immature. (Compare 175.19-20: “Broken Eggs will poursuive bitten Apples:” green apples are bitter, and “poursuive” includes “swive,” fuck.) “Ones:” two vertical parallel lines, as in “11” – or here, “ii,” with the “dot”ted i’s - are an Issy signature. 532.24: “anniece:” un-nice. Also, a Freudian sideways dodge from “daughter.” The pattern was established at 21.14-5: “the niece-of-his-in-law, the prankquean.” 532.25: “Babbyl Malket for daughters-in-trade:” “Baby Market” was a term at the time for commercial centers selling babies given up for adoption. The highest demand was for white blue-eyed females. The identification here with “the trade” – as McHugh notes, prostitution – is queasy-making. 532.26: “my acquainters do me the complaisance:” my acquaintances pay me the compliment, do me the favor. 532.28: “lagmen:” “lagged” is slang for being arrested. Here, he is addressing his audience, initially the four interrogators of III.1-3, as lagmen, constables, who might have “awristed” (handcuffed, on the wrists) not him, but “her,” the girl with whom he is accused of behaving improperly. 532.28-9: “tinkling of such a tink:” little-girl-talk for urinating. Some (probably all) versions of the park scandal involve the semi-public urination of young girls. Also: again, Issy’s signature double-i’s 532.31-2: “out of haram’s way:” escaped from the harem 532.33: “Mannequins Passe:” this Manneken-Pis allusion to the famous Brussels statue of a pissing boy gives the male counterpart to girly “tinkling” (.28). 532.34: “with awards in figure and smile subsections:” as a contestant in a bathing-beauty contest, she didn’t win, but did get honorable mentions for her smile and figure. 532.34-5: “handicapped by two breasts:” speaking of her (full) figure – for someone who prefers the “unripe” breasts of pre-pubescent girls (.23), breasts developed enough to require “opera tops” (see next entry) would not be desirable. He is deflecting charges of pedophilia by insisting that, as a matter of fact, he is a married man, with his “ripest littlums wifukie” (.31), full-grown wife, but, as with that “littlums,” the pretense is shaky. 532.35: “opera tops:” from a 1921 journal on women’s underwear: “They are provided with opera tops – that is to say, they are finished with a fancy edging and ribbon shoulderstraps.” 532.35: “a remarkable little endowment garment:” the underwear “opera tops.” Perhaps a (sarcastic) tribute to her fully-endowed poitrine 532.36: “What spurt!:” probably from (.33) the Manneken-Pis, perhaps as a blind for his real enthusiasm, for tinkling girls 533.1-2: “savouring of their flavours…with heliotrope ayelips:” along with everything else, heliotrope can be a syrup or flavoring. Accounts describe it as tasting like cherries. 533.2: “heliotrope ayelips:” heliotrope is both a color and a perfume, in both senses applicable to beauty parlor makeup – here, apparently, used simultaneously on eyelids and lips. Perhaps also her aye-lips, like Molly’s, saying “Yes.” Early 20th century song: “There’s no, no on your lips but yes, yes in your eyes.” 533.3: “I do drench my jolly soul on the pu pure beauty of hers past:” the “spurt” of 532.36 – ejaculation as well as urination 533.3: “the pu pure beauty of hers past:” the beauty of hers, past, when she was younger than she is now – Issy-age, for instance. About two pages earlier, Kate testified that while she was ironing his back he “sizzled there watching the lautterick’s pitcher by Wexford-Atelier as Katty the Lanner, the refine souprette” (531.14-6). In “Nausicaa,” Bloom reflects that during sex both Gerty and Molly were “thinking of someone else all the time” – and in fact “Ithaca” confirms that Milly has blond hair because Molly was thinking of her first lover, the blond Mulvey, when Milly was conceived. (Compare 620.26-7: “And blowing off to me, hugly Judsys, what wouldn't you give to have a girl! Your wish was mewill. And, lo, out of a sky!”) Similarly, the man here was concentrating on his early memories of his wife as a young glamor girl. (Again, Kate is apparently the oldest edition: see 530.35 and note.) “Pu” may abbreviate either/both pulchra, puella, perhaps puerile. 533.4: “best-preserved:” “well-preserved” is a catty faux-euphemism for “old.” 533.4: “wholewife:” contrasted with “halfwife” (532.15) 533.6: “spekin tluly:” along with the “smallest shoenumber” size feet of “chinatins” women (.5-6), some stage-Chinese (“tluly” for “truly”) from (“pekin”) Peking. Coming from China, all the articles of clothing (“lutestring,” “pewcape,” “tabinet” (.9-10: see McHugh)) will be silk products. 533.7: “It was my proofpiece from my prenticeserving:” as a shoe-maker / shoe salesman, he is proudly presenting one of his early creations to a potential (tiny-footed) female customer. 533.8: “Lambeyth:” Hebrew Lamed: 30. Beth: 2. (So: where’s the 11?) 533.14: “distressful though such recital prove to me:” false modesty 533.15-23: “I…Nowhergs:” a homier rendition of II.4: the four old men spying on the honeymoon couple in bed. See .16-7 and note. 533.15-6: “I introduced her (Frankfurters, numborines, why drive fear?) to our fourposter tunies:” compare ALP at 370.12: “thank you so very much as you introduced me to fourks.” The “fourposter” was the bridal bed, where the action was observed by the four oldsters. As musical performance, this numbers the four singers of the quartet, in German (they are “Frankfurters”) and perhaps gives the opening beat. 533.16-7: “our fourposter tunies chantreying under Castrucci Sinior and De Melos, those whapping oldsteirs:” again, recalls the bedroom scene of II.4: love-making, in a four-poster bed, observed by four impotent (virtual castrati) old men. Also, castrati as singers: as McHugh notes, Castrucci and de Melos were important figures for opera in the Dublin of the 18th century, when castrati were prized as operatic singers. (Glasheen identifies Farinelli, the most famous of the time, at 151.7.) 533.17: “sycamode:” sycamore: a frequent accompaniment of the four “oldsteirs” 533.17: “euphonium:” a sweet-sounding melodion 533.18: “duckyheim:” “ducky:” Cockney for nice, sweet. Given allusion to A Doll’s House, probably an echo of The Wild Duck – only, here, a homey duck. Pertinent that Nora had the same name as Ibsen’s heroine – Joyce considered it an omen. See entry for .19 (duck becomes goose, as in barnacle goose), and – ironically – entry for .23, where female domesticity is being imposed by the state. 533.19: “Goosna Greene:” according to Ellmann, Nora adopted the name “Gretta Green” for her elopement with Joyce – a gesture remembered in “The Dead” with the character Gretta Conroy. Gretna Green, just across the Scottish border, was the destination of impetuous elopers. (On the other hand, as Mink notes, Drumcondra’s Goose Green Avenue was the address of Ireland’s first “reformatory for juvenile offenders” – hence “cagehaused” (.18).) Also, Nora’s last name was Barnacle, as in barnacle goose. 533.19-20: “that cabinteeny homesweetened through affection’s hoardpayns:” in feeling at least, compare Edgar Guest’s popular “It takes a heap o’ livin’ in a house t’ make it home.” (The poem includes examples of homey heart-ache, as well as – see next entry – childbirth and children.) Sentiment will be repeated with .22-3 version (see McHugh) of “There’s no place like home.” 533.20: “hoardpayns:” according to Christiani, Scandinavian for labor pains. Here, giving birth to the children that will make their house homey. 533.20: (“First Murkiss:” as in II.4, one of the oldsters is remembering his first kiss. 533.21-2: “Aw, aw!:” compare Ben Dollard, bass baritone, in “Wandering Rocks:” “Aw!” Part of the musical performance. (So, probably, is the “Dodo!” of .20 – making as well for a reverse alpha-omega.) Also, the ass’s braying 533.23: “K. K. Katakasm:” the Nazis’ three K’s of womanhood – “Kinder, Küche, Kirche.” “Katakasm:” Cataclysm. We have just heard of “Kerk…church” (.23), will next get “child” (533.25) – at .26 translated to German (“youngend”) Jugend, and “gnome sweepplaces like theresweep” (.22) signals a kitchen hearth, heart of the home of which there is no place like. This passage appears during a prolonged access of triumphalist male-imposed domesticity: he has established a home for his wife, and is now telling her what to do there. 533.25-7: “child…youngend…peepee…hedjeskool:” not likely a coincidence that these words, all reminiscent of the girls-urinating component of the park scandal, should appear in close proximity when HCE is defending himself. Oxford editors have “youngend,” German for “youth.” 533.28: “Caulofat’s:” caul fat: the stomach lining of some animals, used for sausage casings 533.29: “Michael Engels:” Michelangelo; the archangel Michael 533.29-30: “Let Michael relay Sutton:” one of several FW allusions to the Catholic prayer to Michael to “thrust Satan down to hell.” Also, the Sutton Peninsula, including Howth, at different times (see 535.31 and note) a center of electronic communications; see next entry. 533.30: “relay:” given context, probably a relay station; see “how I am amp amp amplify” (.33), “Big Butter Boost” (.36) boosting the BBC. 533.30: “phoney habit:” as earlier, refers simultaneously to telephone and radio 533.31: “clairaudience:” by analogy to clairvoyance: the radio speaker has visionary powers. Also, the radio signal is coming through clearly. The discovery of radio waves was sometimes cited as evidence by analogy of mental telepathy and similar paranormal phenomena. Marconi believed that radio waves could include the voices of the dead. 533.32: “reicherout at superstation:” see 360.15-6 and note, 462.26-463.1 and note. A (super) radio station of the Reich, reaching out – that is, broadcasting. Goebbels: “Without radio, we could never have taken Germany.” 533.32-3: “ruptures to our roars:” the amplification will rupture our eardrums. Also, rapturous roaring of a Nazi rally, coming over the radio 533.33: “Hiemlancollin:” “Heimatland:” German for homeland. Homeland calling: a German version of Radio Athlone’s “Come back to Erin” 533.33-534.2: “Pimpim’s…Tak:” “clairaudience” or not, at this point the reception seems to be meeting with interference from another station, broadcasting agricultural market rates. Compare .35, below. 533.34: “saywhen saywhen:” common expression when pouring someone a drink, doubled. Answered by recipient: “Thnkyou! Thatll beall fortody” (533.36-534.1). 533.35: “Livpoomark lloyrge hoggs:” large Liverpool hogs 534.2: “Abbreciades anew York gustoms:” I appreciate, anew, your custom. (Also, of course, New York. Radio transmissions from anywhere in the vicinity would have shut down by now, but not those coming from across the Atlantic, five time zones earlier; Joyce used to listen to them in Paris, and a February 29, 1929 item in The Irish Times describes receiving signals from Australia.) 534.6: “damp damp damp:” response to “amp amp amplify” (533.33) 534.7-8: “It is more ernst terooly a moresome intartenment:” introduces the Oscar Wilde theme, to become increasingly prominent up through 536.27, and still in play at least up to 538.17. Wilde’s best-known play was (“ernst”) The Importance of Being Earnest - amusing entertainment by someone later incarcerated as a degenerate, for which the German word is entarte. 434.7-8: “more ernst:” as Glasheen notes, Morris Ernst, the lawyer who successfully defended Ulysses in American court. (See also note to .15.) From 1934, the Random House Ulysses began with a foreword from Ernst, followed by Judge Woolsey’s decision and a letter from Joyce to the publisher, Bennett Cerf. Although never using the word “earnest,” Woolsey stresses Joyce’s “serious” and “sincere” intentions. (This may be signalling a parallel between the Wilde and Ulysses trials: see note to .17.) 534.8: “Colt’s tooth:” a coltish tooth is an oldster’s desire for young lovers 534.9: “luttrelly:” French lutte, struggle 534.9: “teaspoonspill:” compare 38.20. Again, tradition that the average ejaculation produces one teaspoonful (sometimes, tablespoon) of semen 534.10: “evidence at bottomlie to my babad:” evidence at the bottom of my bed. Evidence from bedsheets figured in the final Wilde trial. Also, compare Bloom in “Hades,” on the inquest into his father’s suicide: “Boots giving evidence…Had slipped down to the foot of the bed.” (It’s not clear what he’s referring to – perhaps the bottle of aconite, perhaps Rudolph Bloom’s suicide note.) 534.10: “bottomlie:” given context, Horatio Bottomley (see McHugh) probably figures in here as an example of establishment hypocrisy, especially on matters of sex. He kept several mistresses but in his publications stood for public purity and censorship. See .17 and note. 534.11: “Keemun Lapsang of first pickings:” see .9 and note. The first crop of the tea harvest is the most prized. Keemun tea, according to entries in Google Books, was considered to be a premium variety. The sense may be that his semen is top-shelf. 534.11-2: “And I contango can take off my dudud dirtynine articles of quoting here in Pynix Park…” more Freudian-slippish giveaways: this time, of exposure – removing his articles of clothing in Phoenix Park. Oxford editors insert “I” after “contango,” which would make “I contango” a stammered first attempt at saying “I can take off.” This sentence, going from .11 to .24, begins as an effort to say something like “I can take my oath on” – the Bible, presumably - but it gets lost. 534.13: “by gramercy of justness:” thanks to justice 534.14: “veryman and moremon:” wanting very many men and (even) more men. Probable overtone of “Mormon,” here as example of (homosexual, perhaps pederastic) polygamy: Brigham Young, whose words, as McHugh notes, will be cited at 534.35, later appears calling out “Bringem young, bringem young, bringem young” (542.27)! 534.15: “advicies:” auspices. Also, the advice(s) of his lawyer(s) – according to him, he’s their (“favoured” (.16)) favorite client. He wants the law to block publication. (McHugh, but not Oxford editors, has “advicies to their favoured client.”) The first-named, “Norris,” is probably another nod to Morris Ernst. 534.16: “preprotestant:” preposterous. Also, a stammered “protestant.” Also, equally-oppositely, Catholicism came before Protestantism - was pre-Protestant. 534.17: “publication of libel:” see .10 and note; Bottomley’s downfall began when he sued an accuser for libel. (In the Woolsey decision, Ulysses had been prosecuted under libel law.) The same was true of Oscar Wilde, who, also on trial, will soon be showing up. See next entry. 534.17-8: “by any tixtim tipsyloon or tobtomtowley of Keisserse Lean:” in fact the Wilde trial may already be under way. Tim and Tom (“tixtim…tobtomtowley”) are often names for the soldiers involved in the park scandal, and Tom, the generic Tommy Atkins, as Glasheen remarks sometimes “blends” with Fred Atkins, the rent boy and (Glasheen’s words) “perjured witness” who testified against Wilde in court, and whose presence, at lines .32-3, the accused will be protesting: “Shame upon Private M! Shames on his fulsomeness! Shamus on his atkinscum’s lulul lying,” with “atkins” embedded in “atkinscum’s.” Allegations against Wilde included reports of anal sex, with testimony about hotel bedsheets (.10). Keysar’s Lane (“Keisserse Lean”), identified by Mink, was popularly known as Kissarse Lane. Wilde, under attack, will be the main figure present for approximately the next two page. The stammered response here includes a charge of “tipsy”-ness – that the accuser is drunk. 534.19: “lowbelt suit:” a child’s outfit, with knock-kneed knees (see next) on show, here worn by a (“bloweyed” (.18) blue-eyed) boy. Again, Wilde with rent boys. Whatever his intentions, he is not helping his case here by emphasizing the witness’s youth. 534.19: “knockbrecky kenees:” knickerbockers, which fasten at the (“kenees”) knees. “Breeks” (appears in “Telemachus”) was slang for trousers – again, as knee-pants, worn by boys. Also, knocking knees 534.19: “bullfist rings:” either bullfighting arenas or boxing (“-fist”) rings or both; the red/rude hand and (“cunvesser”) canvas of the next line argue for the latter. In any case, a sporting gent – like the Lenehan of UIysses, part of the seedy demimonde. 434.20: “So to speak:” a judgment call, but your annotator suggests that most writers would have put a comma after “So.” 534.20: “roude axehand:” as in, caught red-handed. Also (McHugh) Ulster’s red hand – HCE here seems aware that the Ulster’s Matthew was at the head of his interrogators. Also, see note to .23-4. 534.20-1: “Saunter’s Nocelettres:” Saunders Newsletter was a “high Tory newspaper.” It lasted until 1879. Here also version of FW’s letter, sent (at night) from ALP as, variously, Senders, Miss Anders, Miss Anderson, etc. ALP is “gossipaceous” (195.4), and Wilde was a victim of gossip. 534.21: “Poe’s Toffee’s Directory:” see next. Given his milieu (see third note to .19), perhaps post-toff as well 534.21: “Toffee’s Directory:” toff’s directory – something like New York’s Social Register. “Toff” can also be “toffee-nosed.” See next entry. 534.22: “Belgradia:” Belgravia is a fashionable London district. Wilde was arrested for sodomy committed in the Belgravia Hotel. 534.23-4: “to my nonesuch, that highest personage at moments holding down the throne:” in “Wandering Rocks,” Stephen feels that the poignant face of his sister reminds him of “Nonesuch Charles” – Charles I (Annotations to James Joyce’s Ulysses, edited by Sam Slote et al, p. 480, explains the association), occupant of the English throne until he was beheaded with an axe (.20). (Again (see note to 517.19), Joyce was aware of the tradition that the headsman was named Joyce, and we have just heard of someone with “a fallse roude axehand” (.20). HCE is taking his case – a request that a libel against him not be published – to the highest authority, the king. (Joyce once appealed to Prime Minister David Lloyd George over a spat involving a pair of pants.) The Oxford editors replace “nonesuch” with “nomesuch;” I don’t know what to make of “nome-,” but the context indicates strongly that, change or no change, “nonesuch” is still in play. 534.24-5: “So to speak of beauty scouts in elegant pursuit of flowers, searchers for tabernacles and the celluloid art!:” compare 532.31-533.3, where the speaker fancies himself a connoisseur of female beauty. 534.24: “beauty scouts:” movie studio employees on the lookout for future female movie stars. HCE presented himself as something similar with his remembered come-on to ALP: Pardon me, Goldilocks, my heaven on earth, but you’d have a lovely face for the pantomime (615.22-4). See entry after next. 534.25: “searchers for tabernacles:” again, some writers might have inserted an Oxford comma here, to make a series of three. 534.25: “the celluloid art:” in keeping with toff context (see notes to .21, .22) a pretentious term for movies – probably as used by a beauty scout 534.26: “sore eynes:” sirens? 534.26: “The caca cad!:” more stammering. Also, probably not accidental that “caca” appears two lines after account of the king “holding down the throne;” compare “Cyclops” on England’s ruling class, perched on toilets: “rulers of the waves, who sit on thrones of alabaster silent as the deathless gods.” The throne motif is continued with (“Thom’s towel” (.27) domstol, which Christiani glosses as “throne of justice,” but which also has “stool,” as in (“Calypso”) “He liked to read at stool.” All these excremental elements have to do with the charges of sodomy against Wilde. 534.26-7: “He walked by North Strand with his Tom’s towel in hand:” given context, this is probably inspired by the lines, “If you walk down Piccadilly with a poppy or a lily / In your medieval hand,” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s Patience. The play’s main character, Reginald Bunthorne, was widely taken as having predicted Wilde, perhaps even serving as a model. 534.27: “Snakeeye!:” a sporting gent (see third entry for .19) would know that snake-eyes in dice are bad luck. Also, of course: as a snake, who does he think is, still hanging around in Saint Patrick’s Ireland? 534.28: “green parrots:” see McHugh. Pot calling the kettle black: England’s most famous absinthe drinker was Oscar Wilde. Undiluted absinthe is bright green. As Ulysses testifies (“Proteus,” “Oxen of the Sun, “Circe”), a drinker of unmixed absinthe would typically be considered a bohemian wastrel, subject to nightmarish hallucinations (of green parrots, for instance) - the point here being that his version of events is accordingly not to be taken seriously. 534.29: “wipehalf:” compare “halfwife” 532.15. Given context, definite overtone of arse-wiping 534.29-30: “leaving out of my double inns while he was teppling over my single ixits:” 1. Chapelizod’s Mullingar House as a destination for Dublin’s (see next) tippling bonafides – they leave Dublin, come here, drink, stumble out from my exits. (This in fact happens at the end of II.3.) 2. FW’s letter signs off with an A and (113.18) double n’s, followed by a kiss or kisses marked with x’s. 534.30: “teppling:” tippling 534.30: “ixits:” exits 534.30-1: “So was keshaned on for his recent behaviour:” perhaps cashiered - fired 534.31: “lorking:” lurking, looking 434.31: “beltspanners:” the Gothenburg statue noted by McHugh is of two men in a knife fight. 534.32: “Get your hair curt!:” Get your hair cut!” a perennial bourgeois taunt to arty long-hair types 534.33: “Shamus:” American slang for a private detective. Sherlock Holmes (.32) is an English version. 534.33: “atkinscum’s:” given “Private” (.32), Tommy Atkins, generic British soldier – and, as noted at .17-8, Fred Atkins, Wilde’s accuser 534.34-5: “Eristocras till Hanging Tower:” “Hanging Tower” in Caernarfon, Wales, site of many hangings, here of a trouble-making (eris: discord) aristocrat. (Overtone of (supposed) chess move, mentioned in “Oxen of the Sun”) 534.35: “Steck a javelin through his advowtried heart!:” in addition (see McHugh) to stabbing adulterers with javelins, surely alludes to Jesus’ fifth wound, from a spear-thrust in his side. (Perhaps, with Wilde, a.k.a. Sebastian Melmoth, in the vicinity, a nod to Saint Sebastian, first Christian martyr, pierced with arrows.) See next entry, where the crucified Christ doubles with a man being hanged. 534.36-535.1: ”Jiggety jig my jackadandyline!:” “dancing” of person being hanged 535.1: “waddphez:” “-phiz:” by way of “physiogamy,” slang for face. Compare 67.26. 535.1-12: “And mine…ecclesency:” much of this sequence recycles 30.1-32.33 – the story of how the male principal received his “agnomen” from the king. Here, instead of catching earwigs, he is plowing the field when “His Magnus Maggerstick” (.6-7) shows up at the door. As in the earlier sequence, he duly abases himself and is rewarded with a title. 535.2: “Barktholed von Hunarig, Soesown of Furrow:” Matthew Hodgart notes that “Bartholemew in Hebrew means ‘song of Talmai (abounding in furrows’).” See note after the next. 535.2: “Soesown:” So-and-so 535.2: “Soesown of Furrows (hourspringlike his joussture):” sowing seeds in spring – the season of furrows. Given echoes of 531.35-3 and of the “Soussex Bluffs” of the ejaculating “J. P. Cockshott” ((524.15-6): “Sexsex, my Sexencentaurnary” (.3-4)), this is clearly drawing a comparison, possibly inspired by Shakespeare’s Sonnet 3, between sowing and impregnating. (Compare 175.15-6: “This is the way we sow the seed of a long and lusty morning.”) Also, “-springlike:” ejaculate: to jump, leap, spring 535.2-3: “(hourspringlike his joussture:” FW’s 1939 publication date marks the first appearance of these words in the archives. The first Google Books example of the phrase “spring forward” – meaning setting the clock an hour ahead for Daylight Savings Time – is 1937. (The citation, from The Literary Digest, seems to indicate that the expression had been around for a while.) 535.3: “as urs now, so yous then:” common gravestone inscription: as you are now, so I (or we) was (or were) once. Many variations 535.4-5: “my Sexencentaurnary:” according to biblical chronologies, Shem lived six hundred years. 535.6: “freeholdit:” freehold property is in complete possession of the owner 535.7: “His Magnus Maggerstick:” his (huge) sceptre. Also, swagger stick, sign of authority carried by high-ranking British officer. Also, magistrate 535.7: “city’s leasekuays:” ceremony of presenting the key or keys to the city to a visiting dignitary. Echo of “Ellis on quay” (207.8). It is not clear to your annotator whether: 1. as Bartholomew Vanhomrigh (.2), Lord Mayor of Dublin, he is presenting the city’s keys to the king, or 2. this is the moment when the king proclaimed him Lord Mayor of Dublin. In either case, it forecasts his emergence, in the last pages of this chapter, as alpha-male authority, primarily Caesar Augustus, the keys to whose city, Rome, were to become the province of the pope. 535.8-9: “his pricelist charger, Pferdinamd Allibuster:” named (“-namd”) Alabaster, the horse is (of course) white. See next four entries. 535.8: “pricelist:” perhaps priciest – most expensive 535.9-10: “(yeddonot need light oar till Noreway for you fanned one o’er every doorway):” You needn’t light out as far as Norway to find a white-horse fanlight over every doorway; in fact, there’s one right here. (See entry after next.) Also, a white horse stands for the conquering King William, thus also William the Conqueror, a Norman, therefore, in origin, Norse. 535.10: “Noreway:” the White Horse River is a tributary of the Nore. 535.10: “fanned one o’er every doorway:” compare 262.22-3. The image of a white ((“Allibuster”) alabaster) horse over a door’s fanlight could be a sign of Unionist sympathy. William of the Boyne, whose white horse these images commemorate, is remembered as having once stayed in Chapelizod, and I.2 has HCE, as Chapelizod turnpike-keeper, displaying unnecessarily exuberant “fealty” (see next entry) to a successor, William III. 535.10-11: “allbum’s greethims:” bum = arse. As Americans would say, he is kissing his visitor’s ass. Compare 568.23-6, and see next entry. 535.11: “whole:” hole, as in arse-hole. Seems to include the possibility that he is actually or also – equally-oppositely, turn and turnabout - mooning the visitor. Again, the sodomy charges against Wilde are part of the pattern here. 535.11: “whole of my promises:” being given the keys to the city (or property), the visitor is welcome to the whole of the premises. See .6 and note, .7 and second note. 535.11: “handshakey:” compare “Stuttering Hand:” 4.18. 535.12: “congrandyoulikethems:” God grant you like them 535.13: “handgripper:” response to “handshakey” (.11). Christiani glosses as Swedish att angripa, to attack – an equal-opposite to the two people shaking hands. 535.13: “handgripper thisa breast:” response to “handshakey” (.11). Claddagh ring emblem – two hands holding a crowned heart - in FW is often a sign of Shem/Shaun together. 535.13: “Dose makkers ginger:” Christiani: Dødmager ganger: “death-lean steed, steed lean as death.” Probably a reaction to the white horse of .9-10: death, after all, rides a pale horse. 535.14: “Some one we was with us all fours:” in transition from persecuted to boss man, he is starting to get his own back, against the four tormentors of the preceding sixty pages. Also, to “be on all fours” with someone is to be a collaborator. 535.15: “First liar in Londsend!:” the devil (compare next entry) is said to be “the father of lies.” 535.15: “The spiking Duyvil:” speak(ing) of the devil 535.15-6: “See you scargore on that skeepsbrow!:” given context, overtones of both “Wolf in sheep’s clothing” and “mark of Cain:” gore smeared on his brow. Also, overtone of Passover: lamb’s blood smeared on the doorpost. Oxford editors change “you” to “yon,” which, in context, would make sense: HCE is attempting to deflect blame, not turn the tables. 535.16: “And those meisies! Sulken taarts!:” exasperated indignation, again, at his accusers: and those girls! What tarts they are! (The two girls in the park scandal.) The nested “-en taart-“ revives and reverses the degeneracy (German, entarte) accusation of 534.8. Gist: it’s an outrage – an outrage! - that you ever even took them seriously! 535.16-7: “Mansicker at ere I bluffet konservative?:” five pages after the fact, he’s still indignant at the Sackerson testimony of 530.23-4 and the ridiculously gross interpretation it was given; see 530.28 and note. Oxford editors change “bluffet” to “bluffit.” 535.17: “Shucks!:” popular American (not English or Irish) expression of the time 535.18: “lowest basemeant in hystry!:” compare 33.14: “A baser meaning has been read into these characters.” Here, things have become hysterical: the base meanings that were imputed to his actions during the interrogation just past were the worst in history! You would have to go into the bottom-most basement in all the world to find anything comparably lowdown!! Especially the ones coming from those (“hystry”) hysterical girls!!! 535.23: “headnoise:” head noise: tinnitus, in the ears. Compare next entry. 535.26: “Old Whitehowth he is speaking again. Ope Eustace tube!:” As McHugh says, the ears’ Eustachian tubes, but radios also had (vacuum) tubes, and once again the pub’s radio seems to be coming into play, this time with another electronic/telepathic (see 533.31 and note) communication from the spirit of Oscar Wilde. As for the “Howth” in “Whitehowth,” see notes to 533.29-30, 533.30, and 533.31. In FW, Howth Castle and environs are often associated with electronic communications. Howth was the site of a telephone transmitter since the first years of the twentieth century, was connected to Holyhead by telegraph cable since the middle of the nineteenth century, and has a radio transmitter today - but I have been unable to determine whether such an operation was present and functioning when Joyce was at work on FW. (Any information on this subject would be welcome.) The site of electronic communications headed the other way, towards America, not Europe, was Clifden, on Ireland’s west coast, a datum that crops up several times in FW. Also, see note to .27: the communication here is not from Wilde but from his ghost. Guglielmo Marconi, no less, believed that radio signals broadcast by his invention could carry the voices of the dead. 535.26: “Pity poor whiteoath!:” the summoning of Wilde here may be a response to “Whitehead” (.22), signifying Finn McCool; Finn’s name in the Ossian poems is Fingal, and Wilde’s full name, as noted in Joyce’s essay on Wilde, was Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Wills Wilde. 535.27: “Dear gone mummeries, goby!:” Wilde’s plays were shut down when he was convicted. (Plays are acted by “mummers.”) Oxford editors insert “mumum” before “mummeries.” Like the mother (“Mudder”) of .35, “mummeries” probably reflects Joyce’s endorsement of the theory, implicit in his essay on Wilde, that homosexual men are exceptionally devoted to or dominated by their mothers. 535.27: “Dear gone mummeries…mummery failend:” for possible change in text, see preceding entry. Memory loss in old age. Born in 1854, Wilde was forty-six when he died, but (see McHugh) this appearance is based on an account of post-mortem psychic messages (“messuages from my deadported” (536.2-3)), supposedly originating with him, published in 1923, when he would have been sixty-nine. (They had harsh things to say about Joyce. I know it’s silly, but Joyce’s correspondingly rough handling of Wilde, here and elsewhere, is probably, to some extent, payback. The man sure knew how to hold a grudge.) 535.27-35: “goby…true…snobbing…Nine…dirty...failend..boom..Mudder:” pronunciation indicates that he has caught a cold – and/or, according to 536.13, bronchitis. (In fact, Wilde suffered from both, shortly before his death.) For similar effects, see 417.21-3. 535.28: “I have lived true thousand hells:” in Doctor Faustus, Mephistopheles, also from the domain of the dead, says he is “tormented with ten thousand hells.” 535.33: “My freeandies, my celeberrimates: my happy bossoms, my allfalling fruits of my boom:” friends of my bosom 535.33: “celeberrimates:” in place of celebrities, celibate cell-mates: Wilde in prison. Overtone of “berry/berries” probably related to (see .34 and note) “fruits.” 535.33-4: “my allfalling fruits of my boom:” my unfailing friends of my bosom. (Wilde had some.) Also, Fruit of the Loom: a brand of men’s underwear, around then as now. Also, as falling fruit, probably Newton’s apple, which FW sometimes equates with the Fall in the garden 535.34: “fruits:” OED gives 1895 as the earliest instance of “fruit” as a homosexual. 535.35: “with Mudder:” presumably Wilde’s mother – again, reflecting the then-common belief that homosexuality is a form of arrested development – men as boys eternally trapped in what “Circe” calls the “mammamuffered,” “mothersmothered” stage. (As noted above (.27), the Oxford editors recommend changing “mummeries” to (mumum mummeries.”) Joyce’s essay on Wilde refers obliquely to the story that his mother (herself a presence in FW: see Glasheen for “Wilde, Lady”) had wanted a girl and dressed him in girl’s clothes during his childhood. As McHugh notes, the nearby “fruits of my boom” (.34) echoes the Hail Mary, addressed to Jesus’s mother. 535.36-536.1: “a former colonel. A disincarnated spirit:” Oxford editors change to “a former colonel, disincarnated. A spirit.” McHugh changes to “colonel, disincarnated. He is not all hear. A spirit.” Once again, your annotator remains neutral on issues of genetics. Neither change would, I think, change the main sense: formerly (“colonel,” pronounced “kernel”) carnal, that is, fleshbound, now not. Compare “fleshcase,” quoted in “Scylla and Charybdis” about the soul of a dead child. 536.1: “Rivera in Januero:” Wilde wintered on the French Riviera after his release from prison. 536.1-2: “(he is not all hear):” again (see. 535.23, 26), he is hard of hearing. (McHugh – see note to 535.36-536.1 - relocates these words, minus parentheses, to a position following “colonel, disincarnated.”) Perhaps pertinent that Wilde died of complications of ear surgery; he had long had medical problems with his ears. (This information was available by the time Joyce began writing FW.) Wilde’s father was an authority on ear ailments. 536.2-3: “deadported:” “departed” as euphemism for the dead. In this case, the voice of the dead Wilde, transported via radio. Again, Marconi (and others) believed that radio waves could do that. 536.3: “appunkment:” punk: a boy or young man kept or hired by an older homosexual – one of Wilde’s rent boys, for example 536.4: “”How’s the buttes:” as buttocks (see McHugh) a comment on Wilde’s presumed preference for anal sex; compare .8-9, 350.14-5. 536.4-5: “Everscepistic!:” opposite of antiseptic – again, that testimony about the hotel bedsheets 536.4-6: “Everscepistic! He does not believe in our psychous of the Real Absence, neither miracle wheat nor soulsurgery of P.P. Quemby:” still a skeptic, he does not believe in transubstantiation, either by miraculous powers inherent in the communion wafer (made from wheat) or by the transformative intervention of the P.P. – parish priest. (Wilde converted to Catholicism but was reluctant to go along with some of its doctrines.) Also, “psychous” as in psychic, as in psychic or psychical research, a term usually applied to communication with the dead. (Since that is what is transpiring right now, his skepticism is obviously misplaced.) 536.9-11: “(bonze!)…Bam!:” sound of ringing church bell 536.10: “ballyheart…krumlin…aroundisements:” see McHugh: sites in Ireland, Moscow, and Paris, with its arrondissements. 536.12-3: “Guestermed with the nobelities, to die bronxitic in achershous!:” yesterday with the nobility, today with bronchitis in [aches? achoo?] house! Again, Wilde’s fate, including the common cold 536.13: “old thick whiles:” all the while, but “old” says that this is a memory from Oscar Wilde’s long-lost glamorous past, from “our formed” – former – reflections” (.14). 536.14: “haute white toff’s hoyt:” toff’s white (high) hat. Wilde frequently sported a large white hat. 536.14-5: “stock of eisen all his prop:” Wilde also sported an ornate walking stick. 536.15: “buckely:” like a (Regency) buck – that is, a dandy 536.15: “buckely hosiered from the Royal Leg:” as McHugh says, “The Royal Leg” had been a shop for hosiery, here advertising itself as patronized by royalty - as in “By Appointment to His/Her Majesty…” – to be buckled at the knee. 536.17-8: “his cigare divane:” based on pictures, Wilde smoked cigarettes but not cigars. Still, this presumes otherwise: he is smoking a cigar – what is more, a divine one, with the deferred adjective signalling Frenchified affectation: compare 435.14-6. (So does (“divane”) divan, for “sofa.” A long shot here, but “divane,” compressing “divine” and “sofa,” could be a not-bad FW version of “the divine Sarah,” Wilde’s much-circulated tribute to Sarah Bernhardt. ) Also, cigale: grasshopper. At 417.12-3, the Ondt is smoking “Hosana cigals,” Havana cigars, both as a gesture of triumph over his rival the grasshopper (French cigale) and as a token of sybaritic indulgence. Also, given the ongoing strain of Wildean homosexuality, compare 53.25-6, which equates the smoking of a Havana cigar with fellatio being practiced on a boyish brown-skinned native. In Joyce’s time, Havana was known as a center of sex tourism. 536.18-9: “(He would redden her with his vestas, but ‘tis naught.):” probably from the contemporary convention that cigar-smokers are plutocrats. (In “Cyclops,” Bloom’s choice of a cigar sends just that signal to the Barney Kiernan’s regulars.) Back in the day, he could light cigars, reddening their tips with his burning (“vestas”), matches, ad libitum – but given his comedown in the world, not any more. (See next entry.) Also, sexual innuendo: because of his fame and fortune at the time he might easily have deflowered (“reddened;” compare 383.12), blooded, any number of (“vestas”) virgins, staining the sheets of their bridal beds with blood, but being, after all, homosexual or mostly, he was – “naught” – not up to it, or anyway not so inclined. The “her” in question probably corresponds to Wilde’s wife, the “diva” in “divane” (.18) who he “would husband…verikerfully” (.17). 536.19-20: “incensed and befogged by him and his smoke thereof:” from his cigar 536.21: “zober beerbest in Oscarshal’s winetavern:” Munich’s Octoberfest, celebrated in beerhalls; sober (“zober”) contradicts. (So, in a different way, does “Oscarshal’s:” Oscar Wilde was definitely, for choice, a drinker of wine (and absinthe), not the beer preferred by his fellow Irish.) 536.22:-3: “his mouth still wears that soldier’s scarlet:” compare Salomé: “Thy mouth is like a band of scarlet on a tower of ivory.” (Also, British redcoats, such as (see 534.17-8) Tommy/Fred Atkins.) Similar passages occur throughout Wilde’s writings, including those about Bosie. 536.23-4: “the flaxafloyeds are peppered with salsedine:” the flaxen hair is becoming grey with age, assuming a “salt-and-pepper” coloring. Compare 535.30: “hair hoar.” 536.25-6:” Some day I may tell of his second storey…It looks like some one other bearing my burdens:” 1. with Jesus added to the picture, a version of Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Grey: one (“second”) version, bearing all the stigmata of one’s sinful life. 2. Joyce described The Picture of Dorian Gray as “rather crowded with lies” and speculated that Wilde may have privately circulated a more honest version. 536.27: "bearing my burden:" somethng a porter does 536.27: “let:” in sense of prevent 536.27: “Kanes nought:” Matthew Kane, model for the Martin Cunningham of Ulysses, drowned in 1904. Glasheen lists him at, among other spots, 388.13 and 393.5, in contexts suggestive of death by drowning. 536.28: “I have bared my whole past…on both sides:” more unconscious admissions: both genital and anal (I have bared my hole) sex – one side, then the other. Also, one of the charges against him is that he exposed himself, front and back: compare 345.11-2. Perhaps relevant that Wilde, the father of two children, was arguably bisexual. 536.29: “Give me even two months by laxlaw:” even if the court’s sentence is remarkably lax – only two months in jail. (Wilde’s was two years.) Oxford editors insert “my” before “two.” 536.30: “my first broadcloth is business:” “broadcloth” has connotations of basic material, especially in a spiritual sense – what one is really made of 536.33: “O rhyme us:” the version of the Lord’s Prayer to follow will rhyme “come” with “won” (.34-5). Also, given context (e.g. .28), Oh ream us! (OED puts the earliest instance of “ream” in this sense at 1942 – but, again, obscenities generally defy exact dating.) 536.34-5: “wild heart in Homelan:” wild homeland - a contradiction, or at least a conflict. “Wild” is of course another allusion to Wilde. 536.36: “There is nothing like leuther:” as (McHugh) “There is nothing like leather,” an advertising slogan for the sort of product likely to be sold in “Harrod’s” (.35). Also, we have just heard a partially Germanized (“Mine kinder, mine wohl”) version of the Lord’s Prayer. 536.36-1: “And nosty mens in gladshouses they shad not peggot stones:” as happened at the end of I.2. The presence, noted by McHugh, of both Gladstone and Pigott identifies the victim as Parnell. By Joyce’s reckoning (see, for instance, 365.10-12 and note) when it came to aberrant sex, Gladstone’s preoccupation with prostitutes left him in no position to cast any stones at the monogamous Parnell. The same Gladstone / glass houses conceit is present at 41.35. Compare next entry. 537.1-2: “The elephant’s house is his castle:” the reason you shouldn’t throw stones at people in glass, or any, houses is that an Englishman’s house is his castle. 537.3-4: “in rinunciniation of pomps:” line from Catholic baptismal ceremony: “I renounce the devil and all his pomps.” Near the end of his life, Wilde converted to Catholicism. See next five entries. He is also, probably, abjuring any more anal sex: compare 568.24, where a “pompey cushion” is an arse, being kissed. 537.4: “a wax too held in hand:” “wax:” candle. appropriate for a confirmation or first communion; in the next line we get a baptism, in the two lines after that, two conversions, in the line after that another baptism. 537.5: “do dope:” variant of FW’s “tauftauf” motif, for “I baptize” – usually followed by a version of “mishe mishe” (3.9) – here, as the “miscisprinks,” following on the same line 537.6: “filthered Ovocnas:” holy water (see McHugh), with the filth filtered out, for baptism 537.6: “Browne umbracing Christina:” added to all the other church business, a wedding. McHugh’s annotation adds a prelate’s conversion, to Protestantism. 537.7: “convert me into a selt:” not a good start – if he really wants to be converted into a Celt, he might begin by spelling it right. 537.8: “antenaughties:” people – here, probably, baptized infants – before they became, inevitably, naughty. Probably an attempt to trivialize and dismiss the charges against him: okay, so I was naughty once; isn’t everybody? 537.8-9: “Sigismond Stolterforth:” evidently a real person: an 1819 Irish legal document records his “naturalization” – probably, that is, his being “convert[ed] to a selt [Celt]” (.7). 537.9: “Rabbin:” raven – in FW, always or almost always Noah’s raven, released from the ark. Also, given Scandinavian sound of “Sigismond Stolterforth,” a Viking invader’s raven flag, “auspicer” of rapine and (“Robroost”) robbing. (Compare 480.1.) Also, see 539.35-540.1 and note. 539.9-10: “Leecher Rutter:” both rapine and rape, by a lecherous rutter 537.11: “westerneyes:” westernize; recognize 537.11-2: “westerneyes those poor sunuppers and outbreighten their land’s eng:” 1. Land’s End is the last spot in England to receive the sun’s rays, just before the easternmost point of Ireland. 2. This echoes words in the last line of “The Dead” – “the descent of their last end.” At the time, Gabriel is thinking of Ireland’s west, in a room whose window faces west. 3. Given Columbus echo (along with Noah) of .9-10, this would seem to draw on a familiar equal-opposite trope, that when the sun is down in Australia (Down Under, land of the (“sunuppers”) sundowners) it’s up in the British Isles - therefore, of course, never setting on the empire. 4. Following on 3., an imperialist’s agenda: we’re going to westernize those poor down-unders and brighten up (and Britain-up) their language, thus seeing to it that the sun, somewhere in our domains, is always up, shining brightly. 537.12-4: “A man should stump up and I will pay my pretty decent trade price for my glueglue gluecose, peebles, were it even as this is the legal eric for infelicitous conduict:” contradicts beginning statement (537.29…) that he will “protest” any verdict against him, however lenient. Here, he will be a good sport and pay up. Also, along with the financial sense – a man should pay his debts – the analogous settling of accounts with God. (Compare the end of “Grace” and the beginning of Portrait’s chapter four.) 537.13: “trade price for my glueglue gluecose:” “Cyclops” begins with a tradesman suing a customer for reneging on a bill for tea and sugar. Again, compare note to 78.12-3: the proprietor of the Mullingar would have also been a part-term grocer. Some of the rest of this sentence relates to buying and selling of merchandise. 537.14-5: “(here incloths placefined my pocketanchoredcheck:” with American spelling: check enclosed, as the “eric” – fine – for his “infelicitous conduct.” As with the “antenaughties” of line 8, he is minimizing the charges to which he is admitting: a fine would be for a misdemeanor, not a felony. Also, checkered handkerchief 437.17: “times prebellic:” possible allusion to Sir Daniel Bellingham, the first lord mayor of Dublin. As McHugh notes, the names of other lord mayors will soon follow. 537.20-21: “my quarter brother:” occurring at the beginning of sequence preoccupied with race and race-mixing, this may imply “quadroon.” Shem and Kate have both intermittently been described as people of color. Shem sometimes combines Noah’s son Shem, the first Semite, with Ham, the first black. At 141.28-9, Kate is introduced as “Dinah,” conventionally a name for black female servants. Compare note to .24. 537.22: “constoutuent:” in business or legal context, a proxy, that is a (“locum” (.21) locum tenens 537.23: “at goodbuy:” a good buy – at a good price. Compare 77.29: “goodbuy bierchepes;” also 357.3, 406.36. 537.24: “Blanchette:” a name chosen either to exaggerate her degree of whiteness for commercial reasons (compare 538.4 and note), or a cruel joke: Dorothy Parker once met a society lady with a black maid she’d renamed “Vanilla.” In black-white racial relations, commonly known as “passing.” Compare 538.1-17 and note, 538.4 and note. 537.26-7: “Deuterogamy as in several places of Scripture:” Deuteronomy permits the owning (and selling) of slaves, and, in some cases, bigamy. Also, “Deuter-:” daughter. 537.28: “verbanned:” a coinciding contrary: they should be both verbalized and banned. Alludes to the “excluded books” (.27) of the Apocrypha. 537.28ff: “would seem eggseggs excessively haroween…:” gist: although legal, it would really bother me to sell my wife/one of my wives/my daughter into slavery, especially at such a cut-rate price. Oxford editors have “harroween.” 537.29: “two punt…one pollard:” two pounds, one dollar. Oxford editors have “twa” for “two,” which would add a Scottish note. Compare next entry. 537.29: “punt Scotch:” the term “Scotch pound” occurs into the late 19th century – possibly a pound printed at the discontinued Scotch Mint. 537.29: “pollard:” dollar 537.30: “Frick’s Flame, Uden Sulfer:” Christiani glosses as Scandinavian for Frigga’s flame, without sulphur. 537.30: “three pipples on the bitch:” three nipples: a sign that a woman was a (“bitch”) witch. See note to .32. Also, as the last in a list of currencies of diminishing value, worthless 537.30-1: “Sulfer…enquick:” quick, as opposed to dead, sulphur, supposed to have been an ingredient in Greek fire. 537.31: “enquick me if:” 1. See previous entry: light me on fire and burn me up with a flame’s “quick,” from (“strikest”) striking your match, if I’m lying. 2. Equal-opposite: “unquick,” kill me, if I’m lying. 3. No: acquit me. 537.31-2 : “I did cophetuise milady’s maid:” I did covet my lady’s maid 537.32: “In spect of her beavers she is a womanly and sacred:” in respect of her behavior she is an example of sacred womanhood. Also, tradition that witches have beards: at 209.14, one of the washerwomen seems to qualify. 537.35: “Donkeybrook:” includes donkey, “bray”ing (.34) – here, at the clowns at the fair 538.1-17: “If she…meanit:” registers the conflicted and conflicting impulses of a white man considering the question of whether or not to purchase, perhaps for the purpose of freeing, a black woman, sometimes trying to pass for white, on the slave market. 538.1: “Juno Moneta:” Roman temple where money was minted 538.1-2: “irished Marryonn Teheresiann:” “Irished:” a foreign name changed into an Irish (not Gaelic) equivalent. “Maryanne,” “Theresa,” and “Ann” would all qualify. Compare note to .4. 538.2: “for her consideration:” for a consideration – i.e. money 538.3: “Ledwidge Salvatorious:” should he be her savior? It depends. 538.4: “still further talc slopping over her cocoa contours:” in addition to Irishing her name, she is trying to whiten her dark skin with talc. If she keeps doing that, she will get so white/white-ish that (“I should not be” (.5)) he will no longer be interested in saving her. 538.7: “Just feathers!:” just nonsense! 538.7: “Nanenities!:” Inanities! 538.7: “ochtroyed:” given context, probable overtone of octoroon. Compare 537.20-1 and note. 538.8: “super melkkaart:” supermarket. (The word was in circulation since 1907.) 538.8: “melkkaart:” Afrikaans melkert: a tart made with milk, which is white – given context, probably a race-related comment. (Compare “Oreo,” at one point a disparaging term for assimilated African-Americans: black on the outside, white on the inside.) Compare next entry. 538.9-10: “best Brixton high yellow, no outings: cent for cent on Auction’s Bridge:” See McHugh on “high yellow.” Brixton's population had/has large proportion of people of color. This is Yawn/HCE indignantly imagining the voice of an auctioneer selling a slave – something, he keeps insisting, he would never countenance, except perhaps in order to free her. The auctioneer is talking up the slave’s degree of relative whiteness; see notes to 537.20-21, 537.23. “Auction’s Bridge” would seem to be a reference to Auction Bridge (a newly popular pastime during the FW years), but as far as I can see, nothing in the vicinity corresponds. 538.9: “no outings:” compare 142.23: “outings fived,” where “outings” are apparently the days or nights a servant will be allowed a reprieve from work. Here, the number (for a slave) is of course zero. 538.10-3: “’Twere a honnibel crudelty wert so tentement to their naktlives and scatab orgias we devour about in the mightyevil roohms of encient cartage:” with a pause after “so:” If it were so, if I did sell slaves (which I do not), it would constitute a level of crude cruelty tantamount to those of the natives, with their naked orgies, that we read about, as well as in sensationalist stories of mediaeval Rome and ancient Carthage. (In other words: in our treatment of the savages we’d be just as bad as we say they are; in fact, ancient history testifies that we have been that bad, or even worse.) Also, “honnibel:” the Carthaginian, therefore African, Hannibal, sometimes represented as dark-skinned, was, according to Machiavelli, famous for his cruelty. “Tentement:” natives living in tents. “Scatab orgias:” according to tradition, scarab rings often held poisons; the (“-b orgias”) Borgias, including the Borgia popes of Rome, were famous poisoners. “Devour:” to read compulsively, here with overtone of cannibalism. “Mightyevil roohms of encient cartage:” according to Flaubert’s Salammbô: A Realistic Romance of Ancient Carthage, the Carthaginians, among other cruelties, performed sacrifices of first-born sons. Oxford editors have “einceint” for “encient.” 538.13: “old Crusos:” crusado: Portuguese gold or silver coin. Oxford editors replace “old” with “alled.” 538.13: “soul of gold:” from The Book of the Dead, as translated by E. A. Wallis Budge, a Joyce source: “[These] words are to be said over a soul of gold inlaid with precious stones and laid on the breast of Osiris.” 538.13-6: “A pipple on the panis, two claps on the cansill, or three pock pocks cassey knocked on the postern! Not for one testey tickey culprik’s coynds, ore for all ecus in cunziehowffse!:” for some reason, this sequence becomes obsessed with sex and venereal disease: a pimple on the penis, clap of the penis, pox, testes, testes, anus/prick, testes, cunt. Probably relevant that Wilde, still a presence, almost certainly died of syphilis. 538.15: “knocked:” given context, an auction knock, signaling a sale 538.16: “ore:” gold or silver ore 538.16: “So hemp me:” hang me; lower-class condemned were hanged in hemp, aristocrats (154.10) with silk. 538.16: “So hemp me Cash:” see note to 538.1. “Cash” replacing “God” – as in “the almighty Dollar” 538.18-554.10: “My herrings!...Joahanahanahana!:” increasingly as it goes along, this sequence mimics Res Gestae Divi Augustus, in English The Deeds of the Divine Augustus – the Emperor Augustus’ self-advertising summing-up of his accomplishments. It details battles won, foes vanquished, peace made, buildings built, blessings bestowed on Roman citizens, expansion of empire and subjection and civilization of provinces. In Joyce’s version the city is Dublin rather than Rome. The sequence moves from prehistoric accounts of the Dublin area to a tourist promotion for ”Drumcollgher” (540.9), Drom Cuill-Choille, in some versions Dublin’s original name, to an ever-expanding range of conquest, settlement, and civic improvement. Augustus’ famous boast that he found Rome brick and left it marble (not included in the Res Gestae) is in the background. Augustus’ wife was named Livia, the River Liffey is Anna Livia, and much of the testimony here is about his courtship and conquest of her; the benisons bestowed on the city founded on the Liffey are also gifts to her. Links to the document in the original, along with an English translation, are available on the Wikipedia entry for “Res Gestae Divi Augustus.” This self-advertisement will really get going at line 540.9, which launches a rosy description of local attractions of the sort one might expect from a tourist agency or, in America, Chamber of Commerce brochure. Before then, these lines will mostly constitute one last go at clearing the air of rumors about the park scandal. 538.18: “surdity:” surd: an irrational number; occurs in Portrait, chapter five. Perhaps an overtone of “sordid.” 538.20: “One line with! One line, with with:” McHugh’s annotation: “(his one-line advertisement to sell the slave or milk cart.)” I do not understand this, but see .1 and note. Also, possibly signaling a telephone connection: party-line telephones were “on line” with one another, and protocol dictated either hanging up if you found yourself sharing a conversation or making your presence known. 538.20-1: “saumone:” someone 538.21: “boyne alive O:” “cockles and mussels, alive, alive O,” from “Molly Malone,” who sells her wares in “Dublin’s fair city.” The Boyne, like the Liffey, has a salmon run. Compare next entry. 538.22: “Catheringnettes:” gathering nets, for fishing 538.22: “Mycock:” see note to .21. Also, Mulligan in “Scylla and Charybdis:” “Blessed Mary Anycock!” – a ribald pun on Catholicism’s Saint Marguerite Marie Alacoque 538.23-5: “were…I their covin guardient, I would not know to contact such gretched youngsteys:” more protestations of innocence: even if I were the legal guardian of those girls, I wouldn’t touch them – wouldn’t even know how to. (As usual, protesting too much, he overdoes it.) Gretchen, also called Margarete, is Faust’s young love. (Goethe (“Gouty”) will put in an appearance at 539.6.) 538.23: “moon at aube:” more at ease 538.23: “at aube with hespermun:” Hesperus – Venus – is morning (aube) as well as evening star. 538.24: “covin guardient:” well into the 19th century, Covent Garden was known as a haunt of prostitutes – probably why Dublin’s Fishamble Street becomes “Fleshambles” (.22-3) – a meat market. “Covin” – not “coven” – has sense of secret or conspiratorial. 538.25: “in my ways from Haddem:” incorporates expression “I wouldn’t know him – or her – from Adam.” 538.25: “suistersees:” sesterces: Roman coins. Also, in context of park scandal, echoes FW’s “sosie sesthers” thread (3.12) – the two girls of the scandal. 538.27-8: “Her is one which rassembled to mein enormally:” not sure, but he seems to be proposing that the accusers mistook someone else for him – someone who greatly resembled him. (Compare Bloom in “Circe:” “It was my brother Henry. He is my double.”) He goes on to name him as “Deucollion” (.29, .33) – Double-balled – and, ironically, berates him for the “shrubbery [that is, shabby] trick” (.34) of letting him take the blame. See .29-30 and note. By this reading, “Her” is German Herre (as in 538.13) and, perhaps, a slurred “Here.” 538.28: “enormally:” enormously 538.29: “Deucollion:” a preliminary version of “Drumcollogher” (540.9), both a town in County Limerick and, more importantly, the name given Dublin in a Percy French song that will initiate the bragging about its charms. 538.29-30: “Each habe goheerd, uptaking you are innersence, but we sen you meet sose infance:” somebody is continuing the indictment: even with the legal presumption of innocence, the fact is that we saw you with those infants, those (female) kids. (Again, not sure, but I suggest that the speaker here is diverting the accusations to another man, who “rassembled to mein enormally”) resembled him enormously, or so he says. Oxford editors have “goheard” for “goheerd.” 538.31-3: “Evilling chimbes is smutsick rivulverblott but thee hard casted pigstenes upann Congan’s shootsmen in Schottenhof, ekeascent?:” main thread is the story of Deucalion and Pyrrha, his wife. The first five words here recall the evil state of the world before Zeus washed it clean (of (“smutsick”) smut – dirt) with his flood; the casting of “pigstenes” is the husband and wife casting stones over their shoulders, stones becoming (for him) men and (for her) women as they strike the earth; the story of Jason’s dragons’ teeth becoming soldiers (“shootsmen”) is present as well. See .36 and note. 538.32: “casted thereass pigstenes:” certainly sounds like a compressed version of “casting pearls before swine.” Also, in context of accusations against HCE, revisits the stone-throwing attack of I.2, as recalled in I.4. 538.32-3: “shootsmen in Schottenhof:” Scotsmen (and policemen, armed) in Scotland Yard 538.33: “I liked his Gothamm chic:” I like your cheek!: sarcastic way of saying someone has been showing impudence – behaving above his station. 538.33: “Gothamm chic:” New York stylishness. (Not coincidental that Manhattan (“minhatton”) shows up at 539.2). In context, probably sarcastic: from his perspective, New York is the place of new-money upstarts. (In general, allusions to New York City are quite dense in III.4, especially from the "Amstadam, sir" address of 532.06, which probably encompasses ("New Aimsterdames" (509.24), New Amsterdam as well.) For more on the New York theme running through this sequence, see first entry for 539.31 and entry for 539.33.) 538.34-539.4: “I will…manhere:” revisits and reenacts the scenario of 36.21-34. Charged with improper behavior involving girls, he swears up and down to his innocence, “upon the monument” (36.24). 538.34-5: “I will put my oathhead under my whitepot:” to swear an oath to his innocence, he will put on his white hat – in FW, usually a sign of class or pretensions to same – for his court appearance. (Compare Bloom on men’s hats: “These pots we have to wear.”) On the other hand, chamber pots are typically white. Compare 522.6-7 and note. 538.36: “Pelagios:” according to Wikipedia account, Zeus caused the flood because of “the hubris of the Pelasgians.” See note to 31.3. 539.3: “unclothed:” unclouded 539.3-4: “unclothed virtue by the longstone erectheion of our allfirst manhere:” Adam, the first man, naked, with an erection. (“Virtue:” Latin vir, man.) Because the incident in question happened in Phoenix Park, the “longstone erectheion” is probably the Wellington Monument. (But see McHugh: also or alternatively the “pillar in D[ublin] marking place where the Danes landed” – and starting at .17 there will be remembrances of the landing of the Danes, at .28 of their expulsion.) In any case, the main sense is that he willing to swear to his innocence by any token asked for, including a stack of “buybibles” (.2), of whatever version. Probably relevant that, etymologically, to “testify” (.2) is to swear while grabbing one’s testicles – not the same as an erection, but close by. 539.7-8: “in this that is and that this is to come:” now and in times to come 539.8-13: “Like…good:” describing his (“prudentials” (.12)) Prudential Insurance “policy” (or policies): “homesters” (home owners’ insurance) “accident benefits” (enumerated – fire, plague, war). Compare entries for .12-3, .13-4. 539.12: “doing my dids bits:” doing my bit – an expression often used during wartime, by both civilians and soldiers 539.11-2: “cramkrieged:” Crom Crúach: O Hehir says, “ancient idol overthrown by Patrick.” 539.12-3: “prudentials:” from Latin for “having foresight:” appropriate for an insurance customer, or company – see entry for .13-4. Despite quite extraordinary setbacks in the “accident benefits” (.10) insurance line (extraordinary indeed: as McHugh notes, the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse, coming all at once) he has “made…good” (.12-3), or at least hopes he will make good, with his clients. 539.13-4: “stolemines or something of that sorth in the sooth of Spainien:” I doubt it’s an accident that this comes one line after “prudentials.” The insignia of the Prudential Insurance Company is and was the Rock of Gibraltar, which is at the tip of the south of Spain, and was, at least according to some versions, stolen from Spain. (The citizen in “Cyclops” says that it was “grabbed by the foe of mankind,” the English, and Molly, who grew up on Gibraltar, essentially concurs.) All those accident claims coming at once have taxed the company’s resources, but fortunately its headquarters turned out, he’s heard, to be situated on a gold mine. He may have “failed lamentably by accident benefits” (.10-1) at first, but just wait: something will turn up. (The Micawberish “something of that sorth” is not reassuring: as McHugh notes,” “stolemines” might be either gold mines or coal mines, or something of that sort.) 539.15: “I abhor myself vastly:” “abhor:” also adore. Another equal-opposite 539.16-7: “hotelmen:” compare .9-10: similar address to “homesters.” A “hotel man” was a hotel owner. Again: the Mullingar House was at one point an inn, so he may be, in his mind, addressing colleagues. His point is that he has come home, back to Ireland. 539.17: “deep drowner:” kenning-like expression for ocean 539.18-9: “three plunges of my ruddertail:” marking the three horizontal strokes of HCE’s siglum E. Here, also begetting his three children, Issy and the twins. Compare 314.12, where “rudder” doubles with “rutter,” and note. 539.19: “ruddertail:” a rudder-tail is a kind of rudder found on early twentieth-century airplanes and blimps. 539.21: “brixtol:” both high-class Brighton, at one time the residence of the Prince Regent, and (see 538.9-10) low-class Brixton, with its “mean straits” (.22). As usual, equal-opposites may be present. By the time of Graham Greene’s 1938 novel Brighton Rock, Brighton was clearly known to be a pretty seedy place; Bristol, on the other hand (see note to .32-3), had been the point of departure for Strongbow’s royally sponsored conquest of Ireland. Brighton is on England’s east coast, and Bristol on the west. Given context, it seems pertinent that Bristol was a center of England’s Atlantic slave trade. 539.22: “mean…evorage:” mean and average, in statistical senses 539.24: “then-on-sea:” a play on fashionable resorts with names like “X-on-the-sea,” “Y-by-the-sea.” Being on the sea is not really that great if it means that the location in question is a swamp or – see next entry – bog. He has turned waterlogged Dublin into a habitable city with what 541.9-10 will call “murage” and “drains.” This introduces the “murage” part: walls, fortifications, the pale, “palisades” (.26). 539.24-5: “hole of Serbonian bog:” from Paradise Lost: “A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog…where armies whole have sunk.” This marks the point at which he starts bragging about how he turned the boglands of Dublin into a city. 539.27: “martiell siegewin:” his success called for imposition of marshal law. 539.28-9: “in that year which I have called myriabellous:” as McHugh says, his Anna Mirabilis. At the moment, the context makes clear that the year is 1014, the speaker a version of Brian Boru. (Compare entry for 539.35-540.1.) “Myriabellous” echoes both Latin bellus, war (“miria bellis” would be, approximately, “countless wars”) and “Anna”’s last name, Plurabelle. 539.30: “prusshing stock of Allbrecht:” a Prussian stock, as in “stock and collar,” was exceptionally high and stiff. Probably an allusion to Prince Albert, with his Germanic origins (though not predominantly Prussian). Also, Bonheim identifies Allbrecht as Alberich, “guardian of the Nibelung hoard:” would fit the context, about the setting and maintenance of boundaries. 539.31: “patroonship:” the “patroons” were privileged New Yorkers with land-holding legacies along the Hudson River dating back to the Dutch. Well into the twentieth century, the word signified old-money aristocracy. The nearby presence of “palisades” (a Hudson River landmark) and “Chollyman” (see second note for .32) suggests that Joyce is consulting some source of New York lore. 539.31: “good kingsinnturns:” compare 466.19-21, with its singing of lines from the novelty song “Rhoda and her Pagoda.” Rhoda is a social climber who hopes to make her way up by attracting high-class patrons to her tea shop, and one of them is “the Duke of Kensington Gardens.” (As with the other names to follow in this list, there was and is no such person.) 539.32-3: “Hungry the Loaved and Hangry the Hathed:” a tea-shop customer would presumably be somewhat hungry. Also, as with (627.17) “lothing,” loving and loathing, both Henry the Loved and Henry the Hated. (Depending on whether one is English or Irish, either could describe Henry II, whose authorization of the occupation of Ireland is included (see McHugh) at .21-2.) and of course Henry the Eighth, who forcibly converted England (but not Ireland) to Protestantism. 539.32: “T. R. H. Urban First:” introduced as one of the “kingsinnturns, T. R. H.” (McHugh: “Their Royal Highnesses”) – but, apparently there have been no British or European King Urbans; there have however been several Pope Urbans. According to Wikipedia, Pope Urban I was “the first pope whose reign can be definitely dated.” 539.32: “Champaign Chollyman:” “Cholly Knickerbocker” was the assumed name of a New York newspaper gossip columnist, current in Joyce’s time. Both first and last name alluded to New York’s old-money Dutch - incidentally the reason that, for Americans, “Van,” as in Jackie Gleason’s “Reginald Van Gleason,” can still signify inherited wealth. 539.35-540.1: “Flukie of the Ravens…two-toothed dragon worms with allsort serpents:” Viking ships, with dragon prows and raven flags. Compare 62.4, 480.1. The speaker’s voice is combining Brian Boru, who expelled the Vikings at the Battle of Clontarf (“slauchterday of cleantarriffs” (.27)) with Patrick, who expelled the snakes. 539.36: “famine:” farming – part of the “toils of domestication” (.34) 540.1: “dragon worms:” finally, the grammatical subject of this long (229 words) sentence, the predicate being “has completely seceded” (.2-3): the upshot of all the preceding was that, as a combination of Brian Boru and Saint Patrick, he expelled Danes and snakes from Ireland. (Grammatically, there really ought to be a comma after “dragon,” but Joyce sometimes leaves such matters up to the reader.) 540.12: “Vedi Drumcollogher e poi Moonis:” Mink: “Many lives were lost in a cinema fire in D[rumcollogher] in 1926.” (McHugh notes that this line is based on “See Naples & then die.”) Oxford editors replace the period after “Moonis” with an exclamation mark. 540.13-5: “Pro clam a shun! Pip! Peep! Pipitch! Ubipop jay piped ibipep goes the whistle:” given that the locus is seaborne and the speaker a (“capt in” (540.18)) captain, this may be the sound of a boatswain’s whistle, announcing a forthcoming proclamation from the captain. Also – see next entry – the sound of a traffic jam 540.15: “Here Tyburn throttled:” besides hangman’s noose, “throttled” in sense of engine throttle: Marble Arch, located adjacent to the former Tyburn site, became a center of traffic congestion, and cars at the time had throttles. “Throttled” is in past tense because this is an improvement – driving, however aggravating, is better than hanging – and he’s responsible for it. 540.17: “Estoesto! Estote sunto!:” S. O. S.! S. O. S.! (Ship’s Morse Code distress signal: note (“capt in”) captain of next line. Follows after “Pip! Peep! Pipitch!” of .14, which certainly sounds like Morse Code. Elsewhere in FW, the usual exchange is between Morse Code’s two dots (ii, for Iseult) and two dashes (T t for Tristan.) 540.17-8: “From the hold of my capt in altitude till the mortification that’s my fate:” from head to foot. Compare “corns on his kismet” in “Nausicaa,” where “kismet” = fate = feet. Also, repeats Finn topography of 7.29-33: head is Howth, Dublin’s highest altitude, feet at the Magazine Fort – fortification – in Phoenix Park. “Hold:” height, with perhaps the sense of a castle’s hold, paralleling fortification. Perhaps “mortification” because Howth was once a (“leper’s lack” (.31-2) lovers’ leap. (Compare .31-2 and note.) 540.18-9: “The end of aldest mosest is the beginning of all thisorder so the last of their hansbailis shall the first in our sheriffsby:” the old law of Moses yields to the new covenant, teaching that the last shall be first. Disorder / this (new) order is the inevitable result. 540.21-2: “under them lintels are staying my horneymen meet each his mansiemagd:” “Fornicate” derives from Latin fornix, arch, from the Roman convention that prostitutes stationed themselves under arches, and some “lintels” are arched. The fancy girls are entertaining the horny men. “Horneymen” echoes honeymoon, and, as McHugh notes, hornies are also the police. (Compare next entry.) Also, of course, “horny” means sexually aroused. 540.21: “horneymen meet each is mansiemagd:” in “Lestrygonians,” Bloom thinks of “plainclothes” police “courting slaveys” – housemaids – in order to get information about anti-British activities. 540.22-3: “peers and gints, quaysirs and galleyliers:” peers (members of the aristocracy) and gents. For “quaysirs” see 208.36-209.9, where a bunch of gabbing quay-dwellers are the waterside equivalent of corner boys – that is, street-corner layabouts. “Galleyliers:” a galley slave would be at the bottom of the pecking order. With one or two equal-opposite qualifications, the .22-5 list is socially downward – essentially an endorsement of a four-stage hierarchy. This seems odd for a running catalogue (see McHugh) of the titles of Ibsen plays, but perhaps the point is that even the radical writer has been assimilated, into “Abeyance” (.25). 540.24-5: “pullars off societies:” a society devoted to pulling one another off would be a circle jerk. 540.25: “pushers on rothmere’s homes:” Lord Rothermere, newspaper magnate. His brother Alfred, also a press baron, was born in Chapelizod. Not clear what “pushers on” are here, but in any case they are not the owners. (In context, “pullers and pushers” might mean something like today’s “movers and shakers,” but at the time the phrase occurred almost exclusively in accounts of mechanical engineering, especially for trains.) Equal-opposite: Rothermere, born Harold Harmsworth, was both an ultra-Tory elitist and a publisher of yellow-press tabloids catering to the lower orders. During the FW years he supported Mussolini and, later, Hitler. 540.25: “rothmere’s homes:” besides (McHugh) Ibsen’s Rosmershome, Glasheen cites Johannes Rosmer, the play’s protagonist. 540.25: “Obeyance:” obeisance 540.27-8: “lives are on sure in sorting:” life insurance – recommended, because life is unsure and uncertain. 540.27-8: “good Jock Shepherd…Jonathans, wild and great:” more assimilation: two English-speaking outliers (and outlaws) brought into the fold: Jock the Scot and Brother Jonathan, personification of America before Uncle Sam. 540.27: “good Jock:” good joke 540.28: “in sorting:” and certain; uncertain 540.29-30: “Blaublaze devilbobs have gone from the mode:” 1. They are no longer in fashion; 2. They are no longer around, period. 3. Probably a memory of Ulysses’ Blazes Boylan (see .35), of “Sirens”’ “Blazure’s skyblue bow and eyes,” whose nickname connotes the devil. Incorporates two common oaths: “What the blue blazes!” and “What the devil!” 4. Perhaps an allusion to Myerbeer’s opera Robert le Diable 540.31: “reere as glovars’ metins:” like a chess player regarding checkers, a glover would look askance at mitten-makers. 540.31: “glovars metins:” lovers’ meetings 540.31-2: “lepers lack:” Lax-halaup, later Leixlip – the Liffey’s salmon-leap. Also, the reason that lepers lack are either that he’s cured leprosy – during Joyce’s life, it was incurable - or, more likely, expelled or killed all its victims. Also – compare previous entry – lovers’ leap 530.34-5: “Miledd..Me ludd…hide park…Minuinette:” ladies and men, lords and ladies. (Helmut Bonheim has no entry for “Minuinette,” but it can sound like a derivative of German minne, love.) Hyde Park, especially its Rotten Row, was London’s best-known spot for high-class flirting. 540.34: “Me ludd:” traditional pronunciation of “My lord” when an English barrister addresses the judge 540.34: “hide park seek Minuinette:” Dating to 1900, a London-to-Brighton automobile race called the Mignonette-Luap has its starting line in Hyde Park. At least in recent years, all entries are antiques. 540.35: “Blownose aerios we luft to you:” Bluenose is the name of a famous racing schooner built in 1921. “Aerios” and “luft” in proximity surely indicate something like air-flight; “luft” also echoes “luff,” term for the ruffling of sails when heading too close to the wind. Lifting and luffing will result from the blowing of a nose, which will sound like an aria; compare “Sirens,” where Bloom speculates that nose-blowing might sound musical to the Shah of Persia. Cold weather, of the sort supposed to go with the common cold, with its nose-blowing, conventionally causes blue noses. 540.35: “Firebugs, good blazes!:” Arsonists, go to blazes! Either poetic justice or an incitement to some drastic creative destruction: burn it down so that we can build something better in its place. 540.35-6: “Lubbers, kepp your poudies drier!:” Oxford editors have “keep” for “kepp.” Landlubbers (as opposed to (“Seamen” (.36)), keep your feet (Greek ποδ, pod) drier! Compare previous entry. Just as arsonists should have no trouble making “blazes,” dry feet should come naturally to landlubbers. 541.1: “Seven ills:” seven hills of Rome 541.1: “Seaventy seavens: overtone of Seven Heavens/Seventh Heaven 541.5: “I raised a dome on the wherewithouts of Michan:” Dublin’s St. Michan’s Church has no dome. 541.6: “wellworth building:” Woolworth’s Five and Ten Cent stores catered to customers seeking low prices. Compare “Eumaeus:” “well worth twice the money.” 541.7: “cloud cupoled campaniles:” a bell tower so high that it couples with the clouds. Also, Florence’s Piazza del Duomo – site of Giotto’s Campanile and the Cupola del Brunellesci. (This masterbuilder’s means may be brutal, but he certainly puts up some memorable stuff.) Speaking of Florence, note “floriners” (541.14), as in florins, a British coin named for a Florentine coin. You can’t build the Duomo without serious money, and in fact, for all the talk of conquest (Waterloo, marshal law (.22, .23), etc.), management of money, on an international scale, is behind most or all of the accomplishments listed here. 541.9: “murage:” license to tax for the construction of walls 541.9: “lestage:” payment for permission to load a ship 541.9-10: “mains…drains:” main drains, main drainage – as part of his city-building infrastructure: draining, building drains, installing waterworks. (542.5-7 follows up with pipe-laying: fresh water arriving through “longitudes of elm.”) 541.12: “struck for myself and muched morely by token:” coins are “struck” when minted. As head of government, he has solved his financial problems by monopolizing the power to mint money, in tokens. 541.14: “Sirrherr of Gambleden ruddy money:” comment on awarding of knighthoods and other honors to plutocrats whose money has come from unsavory sources. “Ruddy money:” red (blood) money; a gambling den, as opposed to a licensed casino, would have been illegal. 541.14-5: “Madame of Pitymount I loue yous:” story similar to .14. The madame runs a pawn shop, but he treats her with reverence – love, even (I love you) because he owes her money: I. O. U. Compare “Wandering Rocks,” where according to Father Conmee, Mrs M’Guiness, the pawnbroker, has “a queenly mien.” Probably not a coincidence that “floriners” appears on the next line: Florence’s Medici family is connected in legend with pawnbroking. 541.15-6: “matt…mark!...(Luc!):” the Synoptics: John is apparently missing. 541.16: “(Luc!):” Luck! He was lucky to survive the slaughter in which millions fell (probably WW I). Also, with all the money talk in the vicinity (for instance German “mark!” of previous line), probable overtone of lucre. 541.17: “Atabey!:” Attaboy! Also, compare 29.22: an arriving ship is “The Bey for Dybbling.” See next entry. 541.18: “Fugabollags!:” Bloom in “Nausicaa:” “Big brutes of oceangoing steamers floundering along in the dark, lowing out like seacows. Faugh a ballagh! Out of that, bloody curse to you!” “Lusqu’au bout!,” following, is presumably a mariner’s warning or command. 541.19-20: “If they had ire back of eyeball they got danage on front tooth:” if, during the battle, they had eyes in the backs of their heads (for warding off attacks from the rear), nonetheless they got their teeth knocked out from in front. You can’t win for losing, because you can’t look both ways at once. 541.18-542.12: “tolkies shraking…unto me!:” for this sequence, compare Bloom in “Sirens:” “Sea, wind, leaves, thunder, waters, cows lowing, the cattlemarket, cocks, hens don't crow, snakes hissss. There's music everywhere. Ruttledge's door: ee creaking. No, that's noise.” Most of the action here becomes noise, often turning into music. 541.22: “Shackleton:” Sackerson the manservant, generally a suppressed or submerged presence 541.24-5: “I made praharfeast upon acorpolous and fastbroke down in Neederthorpe:” from feast to fast, then breaking of fast (and breakfast); “acorpolous” perhaps suggests ritual cannibalism and definitely includes “corpulent:” HCE is fat. 541.26: “slobodens:” O Hehir: mud, filled-in-land. Sloblands: land below sea level, retrieved by dikes and drainage. He replaced them with (“fairviews…bathandbaddened” (.26-7)) – nice homes with nice views and running water for the bathrooms. 541.27: “bathandbaddend:” battened 541.27: “mendicity:” 1. As if to anticipate the title of James Plunkett’s Dublin novel Strumpet City – a city run on mendacity. Could describe any number of 20th century cities, American and otherwise, run by political machines along the lines of “controlled graft.” 2. Portmanteau word for Florence, a city run mendaciously by the Medici: see notes for .7, .14-5. 541.27: “bathandbaddend…unoculated:” spa and inoculation: two kinds of cures 541.27: “corocured off:” cured; carried off – as in “carried off” by a plague, in the event that the patient, rather than inoculated, was (“unoculated”) un-inoculated. (Multiple good news – bad news equal-opposites, like his (‘tuberclosies” (.36) tubercular tubers.) 541.28: “filled:” built 541.28: “I filled ad liptum:” he supplied (Lipton’s) tea, ad libitum. 541.30: “For sleeking beauties I spinned their nightinveils:” Sleeping Beauty goes to sleep from the prick of a (“spinned”) spindle. (Compare 615.28.) A night-time nightingale would be the right songbird for her, in a landscape darkened by the veils of night. 541.30: “slumbred:” slum-bred. Contrasts with sleek (of “sleeking beauties),” which would connote luxury. 541.32: “mewses whinninaird:” because mews were used to keep (whinnying) horses 541.32-3: ‘tendulcis tunies like water parted fluted up from the westinders:” West-enders: patrons of London’s theatre district. Tenducci’s sensational rendering of “Water Parted from the Sea” (see McHugh) occurred in the Royal Opera Hall, in the West End. Also, since the 19th century the West End has been London’s fashionable district, here contrasted with the lowlife simian “ourangoontangues” of “the east” (.34). “Fluted” because Tenducci, a castrato, was a tenor. 541.33: “westinders:” west wind, making a flute-like (“fluted up”) noise 541.35-6: “but in the meckling of my burgh Belvaros was the site forbed:” Mecklenburg Street, once the name of the street at the center of Dublin’s red light district. “Forbed:” for bed. Places like Mrs. Cohen’s rented rooms, with bed, by the hour. Also, of course, forbid: Mrs. Cohen’s and all similar establishments were shut down and razed shortly after the date of Ulysses. (City-builder as reformer of municipal morals.) By association, “Belvaros” probably includes Buenos Aries, earlier cited as “Buellas Arias,” with its “dallytaunties” (435.1), in Joyce’s time known as a center of the white slave trade. 541.36: “tuberclerosies:” tubers: goes with spuds and murphies – potatoes – of 542.1. 542.1: “reized:” more equal-oppositing: both raised and razed. Raising tubercles (potatoes) and razing tuberculosis: two good things 542.2: “the Irish shou:” a weak rhyme, but given context “shou” seems to mean soil, suitable for potatoes. (McHugh glosses as Irish stew.) 542.2-3: “libertilands making free through their curraghcoombs:” Dublin’s Coomb is part of the ancient area called the Liberties. McHugh and Oxford editors have “libertilads.” Mink records that “Fierce and bloody battles raged in the 18th cent[ury] betwn the Liberty Boys and the Ormonde Boys, who were butchers’ apprentices from across the Liffey.” 542.3: “Curraghcoombs:” the Curragh, west of Dublin, is a horse-racing center (note “hurusalaming” in next line; currycombs are used on horses.) 542.3-4: “trueblues hurusalaming before Wailingtone’s Wall:” A “true blue” was a committed Protestant, usually in opposition to Catholicism and high-church Anglicanism. (Stephen, in “Nestor,” thinking of Protestant Ulster: “the black north and true blue bible.”) Hymn-singing (sometimes featuring the “Jerusalem” refrain heard in “Circe”) was stereotypical behavior; so were visits to Jerusalem, with its Wailing Wall. (Jerusalem being a holy city for three major religions, “Hurusalaming,” – salaaming – probably reflects the rapid bowing-down practiced by devout Jews at the Wailing Wall, as well as the traditional Muslim gesture of respect.) The true-blues would have revered (“Wailingtone’s”) Wellington, the Irish-born Protestant who put down Catholics in Spain and France. Here, they are contrasted with the liberty lads – the rowdy vs. the pious. 542.4: “Wailingtone’s Wall:” Phoenix Park’s Wellington Monument is a fairly short distance from its Magazine Wall. 542.7: “fundness for the outozone:” fondness for the (health-giving) ozone. (So, for a fee, he transports people to places with a high concentration in the atmosphere.) Compare Portrait, chapter one: “…we got a good breath of ozone round the Head today.” Also, as city-builder he expanded the auto-zone for “cars” (.8), paving roads so that motorists could travel to his “Kommeandine hotels” (.8-9). (It’s not clear whether he knew or cared that this money-making traffic-swelling enterprise might be bad for the “outozone” ((.7) ozone) of the region’s (“Bellaros” (541.36)) previously nice air.) 542.8: “curried them:” compare “curraghcoombs” (.3). Also, to curry friends, customers, etc. Ironic that he’s currying, and carrying, race-attending horse-fanciers in the latest motorized vehicles. 542.8: “Putzemdown cars:” Pullman cars. Also, paired with “Kommeandine” (McHugh: Come and dine), Put ‘em down (or Put me down), as from a sedan chair. More equal-opposite overtones - to put an animal down, for instance a horse, is to kill it: come and die. 542.9-10: “I made sprouts fontaneously from Philuppe Sobriety in the coupe that’s cheyned for noon inebriates:” I built a municipal (“font-“) fountain – its waters spouting spontaneously from the earth. Even “noon inebriates” – people drunk by midday – can fill up its (chained) cups with water that will help them become sober. 542.10-1: “when they weaned weary of that bibbing I made infusion more infused:” tired of drinking (“bibbing,” not imbibing) plain water? Very well: I also arranged for infusions of tea for the multitude – as testified at 541.28, in fact, it was “ad liptum,” Lipton Tea ad libitum. (Compare “the tees” at .14.) “Teetotalers” were proverbially tea-drinkers. 542.11: “made infusion more infused:” expression: to make confusion more confused. Also, as McHugh notes, tea is an infusion. 542.12-3: “sowerpacers of the vinegarth:” both sowers and treaders (as in barefoot peasants (pacing) stomping on grapes) of the vineyard – words, in various combinations, frequently found in the Bible. In this case, the grapes are (“sower’”) sour – another way of discouraging alcohol consumption. This combines two parables in Matthew, the Parable of the Sower and the parable of the Workers in the Vineyard. The message of the first is that the word of God, learned in childhood, can continue to grow and flourish like a seed of grain. The message of the second, to some degree contradictorily, is that late converts to the faith are as welcome into heaven as life-long adherents. In the Vineyard parable, the workers employed all day “grumble” when the late-hired get paid the same amount, but are told they shouldn’t. 542.13: “in my coppeecuffs:” in my cups – as McHugh notes, drunk. Equal-opposites: if tea is the proverbial alternative to alcohol, coffee (in cups) is the proverbial remedy for alcohol in excess. 542.14: “caabman’s sheltar:” the cabman’s shelter of “Eumaeus” is a temperance establishment; one of its patrons is a “tar” named Murphy. 542.14: “tot the ites like you corss the tees:” tot up the eats and curse the tea: in “Eumaeus” the inedible bun, as totaled up by Bloom, is twopence, as is the undrinkable coffee. Also, the letter i is dotted and the letter t is crossed. Usually in FW, this pairing signals a correspondence between Tristan and Iseult, but apparently not here. 542.15-6: “the first of Janus’s straight…the last of Christmas steps:” all year, or almost, or a bit more – from January 1 to the last days of the Christmas season 542.16: “Janus’s straight:” James Gate, address of Guinness’s Brewery. Also, Damascus’ “Street called Straight” 542.17: “on the rates:” a poverty case, being paid for by the ratepayers 542.17-8: “I for indigent and intendente: in Forum Foster I demosthrenated my folksfiendship:” noted in “Ithaca,” “Vere Foster’s handwriting copybook” taught standardized penmanship to children – here, how to write the letter “I,” as in… “Forum” brings in Demosthenes, who famously taught himself, and later taught others (his “puppuls” (.18)) the art of public speaking, in spite of speech impediments for which, as demonstrated here, his own name would have posed a challenge. In the latter capacity, his fiery words lit up (some of) his listeners: .21-3. 542.19: “burk:” birch, used to whip (“pupuls” (.18)) pupils 542.19: “my burk was no worse than their brite:” speaking of Demosthenes, both Edmund Burke and John Bright were famous orators. 542.19-26: “Sapphrageta…eyes!:” as with Shaun/Jaun in III.1-2, his inflammably enthusiastic audience is entirely female: compare next note and note for .22. Lines .26-9 will recount how he took advantage of his success. 542.19: “Sapphrageta:” a Sapphic suffragette. Compare “Circe:” “A feminist: (masculinely)…” 542.21: “schwalby words:” as McHugh notes, Schwalbe is German for swallow, Schwall is German for flood. Possibly a compressed equal-opposite: Tennyson’s eloquent “swallow- flight of song;” a flood of sustained eloquence. 542.22: “set their soakye pokeys and botchbons afume:” according to Green’s Dictionary of Slang, “pokey” and “bonne-bouche” are both slang for vagina. At 296.29-30, during a scrutiny of the mother’s vagina, a “poke stiff” is an aroused clitoris: Issy’s footnote commentary is “The impudence of that in girl’s things!” 542.23-4: “Fletcher-Flemmings, elisaboth, how interquackeringly they rogated me:” More women. McHugh: Elizabeth Fletcher. Glasheen: Elizabeth Flemming. Both (“-both”) were Elizabeths; both were (“-quacker-“) 17th century Quakers; both were religious proselytizers. Since a rogation can be either a supplication or a formal request to authorities, perhaps they were appealing to him to make municipal reforms, to which he (.24) “unhesitant made replique.” 542.25: “who in hillsaide:” who in hell said? Also, a “hillsider” was a Fenian. 542.27: “Bringem young!:” maybe obvious: an allusion to Brigham Young’s collection of (young) wives. See next three entries. 542.27-8: “in my bethel of Solyman’s I accouched their rotundaties:” like Young, Solomon had many wives. (So did Suleiman I; all three were also religious leaders.) In French argot, se coucher is to have sex. “Rotundaties” may indicate the curves of the female form, especially as represented in pictures of harems, in which the women are typically reclining on (“accouched”) divans. As (McHugh) Dublin’s Rotunda Maternity Hospital, accouchement, French for giving birth – the logical outcome of the other kind of couching. (So is (“the lock”) the Lock Hospital, specializing in venereal disease.) 542.28-9: “turnkeyed:” Tarquin was Lucrecia’s (.29) rapist; Suleimen was a Turk; Turks were proverbial for rapacity, sexual and otherwise. Also, as turnkey (see McHugh) he has either (“lock” (.29)) locked up the harem girls (see next entry) or, as anticipated at 532.31-2, freed them by turning the key. Given his current role as public benefactor, probably the latter 542.29: “insultantly:” incorporates “sultan” – see .27-8 and note. Also, perhaps: insultingly, exultingly 542.29: “raped lutetias:” all that seems to be known about Saint Lutetia is that she was a “virgin martyr.” Raping her would be inordinately insulting. 542.30: “jacobeaters:” eaters of Jacob’s Biscuits. Giving them more (“biscums”) biscuits, like giving (“pottage bakes”) more pottage to (“esausted”) Esau, sounds like sending coals to Newcastle. 542.31: “freakandesias:” free and easy 542.32-3: “I titfortotalled up their farinadays:” metering a customer’s electricity, with “faradays” the basic unit 542.34: “I jaunted on my jingelbrett:” gingerbread coach: ornate antique coach; used in ceremonies by Lord Mayor of London, Lord Mayor of Dublin. (The next line – he’s a beggar who frequents omnibuses – is the opposite extreme: riches to rags.) Horses’ bridles etc. do the jingling. “Jaunted:” compare Boylan’s jingling jaunting car in “Sirens.” Again (see 541.18-542.12 and note) “There’s music everywhere.” 542.35: “I beggered about the amnibushes:” I beat about the bush. 542.35: “beggered:” begged. Oxford editors have “beggared.” 542.36-544.3: “I sent…lower man:” he may have shut down the red light district (see 541.35-6 and entry) but in its place he found another way of raising funds: having (“heyweywomen”) women of the street relieve “ballwearied” men of sperm and funds - from what the Wife of Bath calls her husband’s “nether purse” and his upper one, too. 543.1: “ballwearied:” McHugh gives the source, but the meaning seems unclear. In any case, in context: something close to our “blue balls,” a term coming into currency in the FW years and probably still in play when the (male) speaker remembers his eminent self and his “monumentalness as a thingabolls” (.8-9). (Mink tentatively suggests a reference to Balwearie, a ruined Scottish fort.) 543.1-2: “ballwearied…base:” given proximity of cricket and sundry American elements, maybe baseball. Compare entry for .3-4. 543.2-3: “devaleurised the base fellows for curtailment of their lower man:” De Valera’s regime was notoriously puritanical. 543.3: “curtailment of their lower man:” equal opposites: to extinguish the baser (sexual) impulses through sexual release. According to OED definition 2.b., a “curtal” is “Anything docked or cut short;” it can include the work of cutpurses. 543.3-4: “with a slog to square leg I sent my boundary to Botany Bay:” sports-talk hyperbole. Compare Bloom in “Lotus Eaters,” on how “Captain Buller broke a window in the Kildare street club with a slog to square leg.” In cricket, the “boundary” is the perimeter of the playing field. As Same Slote et al. report in the 2022 Annotations to James Joyce’s Ulysses, “Hitting a ball from the Trinity [College] cricket pitch into Kildare Street is a matter of local legend.” Buller was a real cricketer, but apparently never did it. Hitting a cricket ball that distance would be something like hitting a home run out of Yankee Stadium, which Mickey Mantle almost once did. Hitting a cricket ball so far that the “boundary” needed to be set on the other side of the world – Australia’s Botany Bay – would be Herculean. 534.4: “sent my boundary to Botany Bay:” with a possible play on “bounder” (compare .19 and note) – he sent the overflow unacceptables to Botany Bay, prison colony for “the Empire” (.5-6). 543.4-5: “ran up a score:” in some sports to run up a score is to pile on points in a game – usually considered bad form. In cricket, “ran up a score of _ points” is a common formula. (“Score and four,” twenty-four, would not, I believe, be especially impressive.) Also, a barkeeper tabulating a patron’s debts 543.5: “score and four:” given “Yanks” context (Huckleberry Finn, for instance) possibly an allusion to Lincoln’s “Four score and seven years ago” 543.5: “huckling:” haggling, but in context seems something like a back-formation from “huckster.” 543.6: “omominous letters:” with stutter, ominously anonymous letters, such as death threats 543.7: “pieces of pottery:” a brickbat could be a piece of pottery. Again, equal-opposites: they’re writing him poems of homage; they’re throwing stuff at him. 543.8: “causeries:” French for chattings; in context, chatting up 543.9-10: “allcalling on me for the song of a birtch:” they are all asking him to whip them, making a whistling sound with his birch. (Compare Portrait’s “swish” of Father Dolan’s soutane as he smacks Stephen’s hand.) British public-school sado-masochistic pederasty. Compare 542.18-9. 543.9-10: “song of a birtch:” bird song – for his performance in the Feis Ceoil, in which Joyce once took second place to John McCormack. 543.10-1: “the more secretly bi built, the more openly palastered:” “bi built…palastered:” bibulous…plastered: the latter is slang for drunk. (Compare “peloothered” in “Grace.”) The more he drank in secret, the more likely he was to show up drunk in public. Also, pilasters are features of a building’s outward ornamentation. Possible overtone of plastered in original sense of a building’s final covering 543.11: “Attent! Coach hear!:” Attends! Cocher! - as in calling a cab in Paris 543.11-3: “I have becket my vonderbilt hutch in sunsmidnought and at morningrise was encompassed of mushroofs:” he built his grand house to be amid nought – all alone, with no company – but before he knew it, drat, it was surrounded by the homes of the hoi polloi. Going out on a limb, I suggest that this is also about the composition of FW: written in a condition of encroaching blindness (midnight, no sun), on the basis of what Joyce called a “bellissima niente,” with Beckett as secretary. See next entry. 543.11: “becket:” surely a nod to Samuel Beckett 543.11: “vonderbilt hutch:” equal-opposites. A Vanderbilt house, for instance the Breakers in Newport, Rhode Island, would be palatial; a hutch is tiny. Probably the sense is self-deprecatingly ironic. 543.12: “sunsmidnought:” Norway, Alaska, and other northern regions have been called “the land of the midnight sun.” 543.13: “mushroofs:” mushroom: connotation of new money, clambering for class – here, by building as close as possible to a Vanderbilt. (The Vanderbilts, at least by American standards, were old money.) For instance, Byron in “A Vision of Judgment:” “Satan met his ancient friend / With more hauteur, as might an old Castilian / Poor noble meet a mushroom rich civilian.” On the literal level, mushrooms are proverbial for rapid growth, even growing up overnight: “Why, them’s the muchrooms, come up during the night” (.625.20-1). 543.13: “bethinkful:” to bethink something is to ponder it. 543.14: “the lilies on the veldt:” contradictory message: the “lilies of the field” connote nature at its most beneficent; the veldt connotes nature red in tooth and claw. Again, the sentiment anticipates Woody Allen: “And the lion shall lie down with the lamb, and the lamb won’t get much sleep.” 543.14-5: “unto Balkis did I disclothe mine glory:” Balkis, as McHugh notes, is the Queen of Sheba. The man unclothing himself and disclosing his glory to her is Sheba’s lover Solomon, just introduced by way of Jesus’s “Consider the lilies of the field,” which then continues, “That Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” (Minor correction here: McHugh has the first biblical quotation from Matthew and the second from Luke, but the Matthew passage has both, in succession.) 543.15: See entry for 545.24-5 543.15-6: “This missy, my taughters, and these man, my son:” one of several places where his multiple (two, seven, twenty-eight) daughters and (two, three) sons seem equivalent with Joyce’s one son and one daughter. They’ve grown up. 543.19: “bonders and foeburghers:” bounders and faux-burghers. A bounder is a cad; a bond-holder, at least aspirationally, is the opposite. Burghers are rock-solid establishment types, but being a faux version of one sounds like something a cad might do, and as for (McHugh) faubourg: not Paris but a suburb. (For Joyce, as for others, “suburban” was close to being an equivalent of “bourgeois.”) In “Eumaeus” Stephen calls Ireland “the faubourg Saint Patrice,” the suburban settlement of Saint Patrick. 543.20: “darsy jeamses, the drury joneses:” James and John 543.21: “in hommage all and felony:” homage and fellowship become homme – mankind – and felony, a return to the old Adam. This marks the approximate point at which utopian urbanization falls prey to what has since been called “Brasilia Syndrome” – great-on-paper planning, friendlier to automobiles than pedestrians, resulting in sterile landscaping and a proliferation of unpredicted slums. The rackety “respectable” dwellings catalogued from here to 545.23 are the unintended consequences of what ALP will call “All your graundplotting and the little it brought” (624.12-3). At the end his supposed beneficiaries are “villeins” (545.14), a reminder that a word for evil-doer began as meaning, simply, tenant. 543.25: “closet:” water closet 543.28-9: “Mountgomery:” again, Montgomery Street – Monto – was the main drag of Dublin’s Nighttown. (It would be a weak pun, but in “Scylla and Charybdis” Stephen uses “mount” in the sexual sense.) 543.29-30: “eldest son will not serve but peruses Big-man-up-in-the-Sky scraps:” the scraps are presumably from the Bible, where “will not serve” (in “Jeremiah”) describes the position of rebellious Israelites toward Babylon. Also, of course, Stephen’s credo in Portrait. During WW I, British and American conscientious objectors refused to serve in the military, sometimes citing biblical teachings. 543.31: “pays ragman in bones for faded windowcurtains:” a ragman was also a “rag and bones man,” and an old window curtain would qualify as a rag. Apparently this ragman is being paid in bones – part of his inventory, also his currency – in return for this article of faux-genteel furnishing. 543.33-4: “getting on like Roe’s distillery on fire:” expression: getting on like a house on fire 543.33-4: “Roe’s distillery on fire:” Mink: “There seems to be no record of a major fire at Roe’s.” 543.36: “correspondence courses:” by-mail education offered to those without the money or time to attend school; had dodgy reputation 543.36: “chucked work over row:” he quit his job after a fight with the boss. 543.36-544.1: “both cheeked kissed at levee:” given context (e.g. next entry), it may be pertinent that the royal levée could include a session on the chaise percêe commode. Compare next three entries. 544.1-2: “closet which is profusely written over:” again, water closet, here with bathroom graffiti 544.5-6: “removal every other quarter day:” that is, the chamber pots (.7) are emptied twice a year. Yuck. 544.5-6: “private chapel occupies return landing:” again, in context, more toilet talk. Compare (“chapellledeosy”) chapel of ease of 396.31-2. In “Calypso,” the Blooms apparently have an indoor toilet on “the landing,” which would certainly constitute progress here, even if shared with “eleven other subscribers” (.2). 544.6: “case one of peculiar hopelessness:” “case one” may work two ways. 1. In medical journals of the time, it can designate the first example in a report on a group illness or condition under study. 2. In sense of: this case is one of peculiar hopelessness. 544.7-8: “eccentric naval officer not quite steady:” as in not steady on his pins, meaning drunk. Here, a euphemistic expression for a drunken sailor. “Eccentric” in original sense of not centered, off balance. 544.10: “door, known as the trap:” trapdoor 544.10: “widow rheumatic and chars:” as verb, to char is to work as a charwoman, that is, a chambermaid. Nora was one when she met Joyce. 544.11-12: “tools too costly pledged or uninsured,:” most writers would probably have put a comma after “costly,” setting off “pledged or uninsured.” Redeeming them from the pawnshop would cost too much, and so would insuring them in the first place. 544.12: “reformed philanthropist:” that is, reformed from philanthropy 544.14: “his last dinners:” condemned prisoners are traditionally allowed to have a last meal of their choice. “Cyclops” features an extravagant example. 544.14: “floor dangerous:” probably because the surface is uneven 544.15-6: “many uncut pious books:” up until the early 20th century, some books were still being published whose pages needed to be cut apart with a paper knife. The occupant is displaying religious books, as a show of respectability, which he has no intention of reading. 544.17: “bottled gooseberry:” either gooseberry juice or gooseberry soda 544.18-9: “infant being taught to hammer flat piano:” whatever a “flat piano” may be, it’s unlikely that a real piano, a major sign of bourgeois respectability, is actually on the premises. One of this sequence’s intermittent pretenses to gentility; so is the next entry. 544.20: “titled connection:” a relative who qualifies as a member of the peerage 544.21: “wife cleans stools:” given context, closestools – chairs fitted for chamberpots 544.21-2: “ottawark and regular loafer:” ottoman and regular sofa. A “regular sofa” is a sofa with certain set dimensions. Again, these, as opposed to an in-house out-of-work perpetual loafer, would be tokens of bourgeois respectability. 544.23: “claret cellar cobwebbed:” like the piano, highly improbable in such an establishment. (So is “has a staff of eight servants” (.28-9).) More faux gentility. (The cobwebs, however, are probably real.) As McHugh shows, this comes from a different source than that of most items in the catalogue. 544.24: “drill trousers:” would have suggested a naval uniform 544.24-5: “since the pontificate of Leo:” Leo XIII, the most recent pope of that name, died in 1903. 544.25: “underages:” for once, may not mean “under-aged.” Roughly, it can be a maritime term having to do with a ship’s cargo. 544.25-6: “sits up with fevercases:” that is, over sickbeds. One stage away from a wake’s “watcher” 544.26: “threepence…two:” and at .31 comes “eleven.” 1132 544.26-7: “owns two terraces (back to back breezes):” probably means: two broken windows, with wind blowing between them. The “terraces” could be stoops or something similar. 544.29-30: “using the laneway:” probably to urinate 544.33-4: “the despair of his many benefactresses:” see note to .23. Another anomaly, given most of the testimony. This one also applies to Joyce, whose career owed much to female benefactors. 544.34: “calories exclusively from Rowntrees and dumplings:” probably includes “rump and dozen,” either in colloquial sense, defined by Eric Partridge, of a rump of beef and a dozen of claret, or, as in “Cyclops” a shipboard flogging. In the first sense, calories from food; in the second, what Bloom in “Circe” calls “a warm tingling glow.” The phrasing makes it sound like a pretentious advertisement of the “By Appointment to” kind, here for a store with a name resembling “Rowntry’s of Dublin.” 544.35-6: “one bar of sunlight does them all january and half february:” so they have a northern exposure. Besides (McHugh) a bar of Sunlight Soap, a sun’s solitary ray is sometimes called a “bar.” 544.36: “the V. de V’s:” the “de,” like “Van,” can signify aristocratic heritage or, more likely, pretension to same. Evidently a family (they “rarely pay tradesmen” (545.1)), the de Valera family is a possibility here. Éamon de Valera’s oldest son was named Vivion. 545.1: “semidetached:” a house joined to another, similar house on only one side. For a time, the Mullingar House qualified. 545.1: “but rarely pay tradesmen:” the “but” here is curious. Probably the sense is that living in a “fivestoried semidetached” should mean that they could afford to pay their bills, but they don’t. Not paying tradesmen could be sign of toffish hauteur: Pope describes a fashionable lady who “paid a tradesman once to make him stare.” 545.1-2: “went security for friend who absconded:” that is, guaranteed his own funds as collateral if his friend defaulted on a loan. Said friend having “absconded,” he is stuck with the debt. In Ulysses, Bloom is known and resented for (wisely) never being a party to such a transaction. 545.3: “closet:” yet again, water closet. The number of its sharers keeps expanding – another sign of increasing impoverishment 545.5: “head of domestic economy:” probably polite term for housewife 545.6: “queery how they live:” besides (McHugh) a query as to how they live, the answer: they live queerly, as in the expression “in Queer Street” – something is definitely wrong somewhere. 545.9-10: “decoration from Uganda chief in locked ivory casket:” compare 396.10, where a human skull is “ivory.” In “Cyclops,” a similar token from an African chief is “the skull of his immediate predecessor.” 545.10-11: “the terror of Goodmen’s Field:” Jack the Ripper. As McHugh notes, Goodman’s Fields is in Whitechapel. The Ripper murders occurred in Whitechapel; one of them was literally around the corner from Goodman’s Fields. 545.13: “herrors:” besides (McHugh) horrors, German herr, gentleman, pluralized in English. Opposite of (see next) “villeins” – either out of politeness or wishful thinking. 545.13-4: “my villeins:” Oxford editors have “vill villeins” – perhaps an HCE stutter. In ME sense, a “villain” is a serf, in this case, his: he is the lord of the manor. In modern sense, of course, it may be something to worry about, especially since we have just heard about Jack the Ripper (.10-11). 545.20-1: “Tolbris:” probably overtone of the Tollbooth, in 18th century Edinburgh and Dublin a jail, run by the British authorities, a site for the incarceration, torture, and execution of rebels against the crown 545.24-5: “I have livramentoed, milles on milles of mancipelles:” see McHugh: I have freed thousands and thousands of slaves. (Apparently, all or most of them were female.) 545.24: “livramentoed:” Italian liberamente, freely 545.24-5: “Lo, I have looked upon my pumpadears in their easancies and my drummers have tattled tall tales of me in the land::” (The first colon is in the FW text.) A genetics issue here. McHugh says that this sentence belongs at 543.15, following “I considered the lilies on the veldt and unto Balkis did I disclothe mine glory,” where, with “pumpadears” as a harem-full of Madame de Pompadours, it would continue the vein of sexual triumphalism. The Oxford editors apparently retain the “Lo…” sentence in its present position, but replace the concluding colon with a period. They then insert this: “Fullgent. I funked forth (drat it!), voldsom (veh!) they veered. Mine outskirts benlewd; men breaches portpoiused.” They then capitalize the “i” in “in morgenattics,” and the text continues as is. In A Wake Newslitter, XIII, 5, (October 1976), Ian MacArthur recommends the same “Fullgent…portpoiused” insertion, but with “Fulgent” instead of “Fullgent” and “portpouised” instead of “portpoiused.” As remarked elsewhere, your annotator is not a genetics scholar and cannot adjudicate these different proposals. 545.27: “morgenattics…seralcellars:” German Morgen, morning, Italian sera, evening. The attic is lit up with the sun, the cellar is dark. 545.27: “in seralcellars louched I bleakmealers:” malt cellars: malt is (malted) meal. Possible overtone of cereal, meaning meal, in “seral-.” The expression “The malt is above the meal” describes someone who is drunk. Also, his blackmailers – a recurring concern for FW’s male principal – are, unsurprisingly, a louche lot. 545.28-9: “I was parciful of my subject but in street wauks that are darkest I debelledem superb:” compare “street angel and house devil” in “Circe.” Sir Percival is an epitome of sanctity; “debelledem” echoes “devil;’ “parciful” includes “peaceful.” 545.29: “debelledem:” possible overtone of belle dame, equally-oppositely counterpointed with (“street wauks”) street-walkers. 545.29: “deemed:” judged, damned 454.29-30: “drugtails…pettycourts:” as McHugh notes, “drugtails” includes “draggletails.” Compare “drunken draggletail Dublin drab” (436.26). A sluttish, in sense of slovenly, woman, as evidenced by her skirts – or, here, petticoats – dragged through the mud. Like “slut,” the word came to signify whore or whorish. Compare third entry for .30. 545.30: “petty courts:” variously capitalized, a petty court is usually the first level of the judicial system, dealing with minor legal issues. As lawgiver and judge, he “deemed” and “domstered.” 545.30: “pettycourts…husinclose:” petticoats…hosenlatz, German for trouser fly – female and male attire 545.30: “dustyfeets:” when he came to power, the women had muddy petticoats and the men had dusty feet. He changed that. 545.32: “magmonimoss as staidy lavgiver:” “staidy:” staid, steady. (As in most, perhaps all of the paired items of .25-36, this is the opposite of its partner, a (“I revolucanized by my eructions”) erupting revolutionary; ”hence the “moss-“ in “magmonimoss” – “mossy” is a derogatory words for conservative sorts. (On the other hand, note volcanic lava in “lavgiver.”) 545.33: “revolucanized:” Vulcan 545.33: “eructions: the hye and bye:” given context (see next entry), overtone of “high and dry,” “highway and byway.” Oxford editors have “eructions: on hye and bye.” 545.33: “bye wayseeds:” from Jesus’ “Parable of the Sower:” some of the seeds “fell by the wayside.” 545.34: “in my graben fields sew sowage:” see previous note. “Sew sewage:” HCE’s stammer – which, as he becomes increasingly emboldened, is occurring with decreasing frequency. 545.34-5: “in Sheridan’s circle my wits repose:” Richard Brinsley Sheridan was famous for his wit; his “circle” – theatrical (as in “dress circle”) and Parliamentary – would certainly have included “wits.” Contrast here is with “dummed.” (Compare 225.18.) 545.35-6: “of the pestered Lenfant:” of the Blessed Infant 545.36: “(Hearts of Oak:” “Heart of Oak” is a jingoistic British song; “hearts of oak” is a patriotic phrase celebrating British ships (built from cores of oak trees, therefore sturdy) and sailors (also stout-hearted). 545.36: “may ye root to piece!:” besides “rest in peace,” overtone of “rot to/in pieces” – equal-opposite ill-wishing toward the British and their navy. 546.1: “Rechabites obstain:” biblical family, descended from Rechab, which abstained from wine. (Compare/contrast with “Circe:” “Bumboosers, save your stamps!”) 546.1-2: “Clayed sheets, pineshrouded, wake not, walk not! Sigh lento, Morgh!:” addressed to the dead: do not come back to life. The buried are in winding sheets/shrouds, boxed in pine and covered in clay (compare “Clay” in Dubliners); those in the morgue should remain silent (music: “Silencio!” and, at the very least, slow (Lente). 546.2: “Quo warranto:” by what warrant? A writ requiring the recipient to defend his claim to an office and its prerogatives 546.2: “soliven:” solemn 546.3: “lord V. king:” as in a legal case: the Crown versus Lord X 546.3: “king regards for me:” suggest this can also be read as a compressed “king’s kind regards for me” 546.4: “(flister it!):” whisper it! 546.4: “second fiddler to nomen:” 1. He plays second fiddle to no one: he is always the first violinist. 2. “Earwicker” is the male principal’s “agnomen” (30.3), bestowed by the king. If, like me, you believe that Earwicker is his second, (“necknamesh”) nickname (and that his real name is Porter), this tends to confirm. 3. Noman, Odysseus’ second name in the Cyclops’ cave. (See 374.22-3.) 4. Long shot: earwigs as beetles. There is such a thing as the “fiddler beetle.” The grasshopper, a near relation, is frequently represented as a fiddler in several versions of the story “The Grasshopper and the Ant.” (See 414.23.) 546.5: “genteelician:” genteel, gentleman, patrician. According to Stephen in “Scylla and Charybdis,” for reasons of upward mobility, Shakespeare, named as “William Shakespeare, gentleman” in legal documents of the time, “toadied” to acquire a coat of arms for his family. See notes to .6-7, .8-9, .9. (Dublin coat of arms is also incorporated.) Also, Latin gentelicus, pertaining to a particular clan. Also, gentile: like the citizen in “Cyclops,” the Shaun side of FW’s male principal is often anxious to repudiate his Shemian, Jewish, Old Testament side. 546.5: “two young frish:” park scene: the girls 546.6-7: “vested sable, withdrewers argent:” Stephen describing Shakespeare’s coat of arms: “on a bend sable a spear or steeled argent.” “Withdrewers:” with drawers – women’s underpants – paralleling “vested”’s vest; that they’ve been withdrawn, as in drawn down, probably goes with implications elsewhere that the girls were seen urinating. Heraldic “argent” is often depicted as white. 546.7: “pondant:” Latin for heavy 546.8: “blazoned sinister:” bend sinister – heraldic sign of illegitimacy 546.8-9: “terce of lanciers:” park scene: three soldiers (lancers) 546.9: “shaking unsheathed shafts:” shaking spear (or spears - in the full version there are two, one of them being shaken by a falcon) on Shakespeare coat of arms 546.9-10: “their arms crossed in saltire:” that is, with right hand on left shoulder, left hand on right shoulder. (Not on Shakespeare’s coat of arms; in some versions Dublin’s includes a sceptre crossed with a sword.) 546.10: “embusked, sinople:” see McHugh. Neither Shakespeare’s nor Dublin’s coat of arms includes the color green, but of course it would, traditionally, be right for anything Irish. Probably a version of the “ombushes” ((7.35); see 522.12 and note) of the park scene 546.10-24: “Hery Crass Evohodie….place!:” compare 455.13-4. Also, as will be noted as they occur, these lines contain many allusions to Jesus, perhaps beginning here with an overtone of “heavy cross.” (Compare 409.17-8.) The speaker is presenting himself as a sacred martyr. (It’s subjective, but the rhythm of these lines reminds me of the Apostle’s Creed.) 546.11: “Evohodie:” everyday. Also, “Evoe!” – cry of Bacchantes; see note to .12. 546.11-2: “elder disposition:” older dispensation – i.e., the Old Testament 546.12: “draggedasunder:” Orpheus (another sacred martyr) was torn to pieces by Bacchantes crying “Evoe!” Also, perhaps the “quartering” part of “drawn and quartered.” Also, paired with “huddled til summone be the massproduct of teamwork” (.15), Humpty Dumpty, broken into fragments, with all the king’s horses etc. trying – this time succeeding – to put him together. 546.12-3: “be the forced generation of group marriage:” see next two notes. The Essenes did not practice group marriage, but their laws did permit a man to abandon his wife and choose another if the first failed to become pregnant during the first three years. 546.13: “holocryptogam:” with “-gam” replacing “-gram,” a holy and mysterious mating 546.13: “essenes:” long before the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, there was scholarly discussion of Jesus’ relation to the Essenes; some speculated that he belonged to the sect. 546.15: “be the:” by the 546.15: “massproduct:” product of the Mass. Compare “Ithaca:” “Epp’s massproduct, the creature cocoa.” Also, mass-produced 546.15-6: “three surtouts wripped up in itchother’s:” surtouts: sur tout. A description of the Trinity. See next entry. 546.15-7: “three…two…one:” the Trinity 546.17: “trine or dubildin two, for abram nude be I:” three, two, and (with “I” as “1”) one: see previous entry. Again, the Trinity 546.17: “abram nude be I:” Jesus: “Before Abraham was I am” (John 8:58) 546.17-8: “abram nude be I or roberoyed with the faineans:” “abram men” were beggars pretending to be lunatics; the name came from the Abraham ward at Bedlam. Like Edgar’s abram man in King Lear, Poor Tom, they sometimes ran around nude. Two suggestions: 1. As with 534.2, the contrast is between real nakedness and Emperor’s-New-Clothes imagined sartorial splendor – being royally robed in red. 2. Given this context, the “two twin pritticoaxes” of .16 is an overtone of dementia praecox, 19th century term for schizophrenia, thought of as the condition of a “split personality.” 3. “nude” paired with “robe…d:” naked and robed: opposites. 4. Like the Fenians, Scott’s Rob Roy is an outlaw fighting the landed interests of the crown. 546.21: “my otherchurch’s inher light:” “Inner light” is a tag for Quakers; appears as such in “Scylla and Charybdis.” 546.22: “besitteth:” Apostle’s Creed: Jesus “sitteth on the right hand of God.” 546.23: "Till daybowbreak:" daybreak (reassuring), and "When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall" (not). 546.23: “Thus be hek:” so be it, with an overtone of HCE 546.24: “Verily Verily:” one of Jesus’s trademark expressions 546.27: “- Have you put in all your sparepennies? I’m listening:” as McHugh says, telephone operators. For pay phones, operators would listen for the sound of coins being deposited. Different coins made different sounds when striking a bell inside the box. Also, the voice of someone working a coin-operated radio, a device popular in public establishments from the late 1920’s through the thirties. (Compare next entry.) This is the last of long line of questions put to Yawn since the sequence started in III.1, with the Latin language lesson of p. 407. It concludes with four questions based on the Catholic catechism. Confirmation for those who have passed the exam typically occurs at the age of thirteen or fourteen. 546.29: “- Mr Televox, Mrs Taubiestimm and invisible friends!:” voice of radio announcer, just switched on. “Televox:” just as “television” means visible images sent long-distance, so “Televox” is the equivalent for voice – a radio. (Compare II.3, where the pub’s radio sometimes changes into or doubles with a (at the time, futuristic) television set.) This greeting may have been inspired by Walter Winchell’s ubiquitous sign-on of the 1930’s, “Good evening, Mr and Mrs America, from border to border and coast to coast and all the ships at sea!” (Winchell began broadcasting in 1930, and this segment of the sequence was added at some time after the first transition version of 1929. Joyce enjoyed listening to American radio.) “Televox” was also the brand of a telephone-answering “mechanical man” introduced in 1927 by Westinghouse. It could respond to certain vocal signals to register and regulate some operations (oven, furnace) in a presumably all-electric home. Although it did not respond with words, popular-science publications liked to represent it as a robot or replacement human “brain,” and entertained some of the same concerns today raised by artificial intelligence. Joyce loved this stuff. 546.30-547.3: “Annoyin…sinned:” compare 202.26-204.20. This is an opposite version of ALP as young woman. Gist: had she in fact done any of these things – had she fooled around with these wild, primitive males in her pre-me youth - there might be a point to what her detractors have to say, but she didn’t and there isn’t. She didn’t go backwards to her uphill origins; instead, she flowed, naturally, downward into my (sea) arms, like the “faithful Fulvia” (.30) who stayed true to her husband Anthony even while he was off with Cleopatra. She is my (“goods waif”) good wife. 546.34: “Chief Night Cloud by the Deeps:” following Ireland’s north, south, and east in their usual order, this, as Mink notes, is Connacht, in the west and on the ocean, where the sun sets in the deeps of the Atlantic. Like the other three preceding, a Hollywood version of an American Indian of the (wild) west, combined with the Irish version, what Lenehan in Ulysses calls “the wild wet west.” 546.35: “amber whitch:” compare the “golden lifey” of I.8 (203.6), the Liffey in transit to Dublin, taking coloration from rural “barleyfields” - from, so to speak, amber waves of grain. Sunlight playing on the water may also contribute: compare note to 76.30. As adjective, fulvia is Latin for blonde. In general, the Liffey deepens and darkens the closer it gets to the sea. 546.36: “prolling:” see McHugh. OED definition of “proll:” “to wander about in search of plunder, prey, etc.” Here, “bywaymen” unsuccessfully trying to tempt the Liffey to leave her natural river “bed” 547.4: “mmummy:” HCE stammer – a sign of his emergence from Jaun. It immediately introduces the subject of his wife, about whom he feels conflicted – affectionate and jealous. (“Fulvia Fluvia,” on the next line, is probably another nervous stammer. Soon after that, however, such occurrences become conspicuously absent; apparently he will, as Stephen says about Mulligan in “Telemachus,” have “spoken himself into boldness:” see first note to .25. Contemporary psychology sometimes diagnosed stuttering as a symptom of “personality conflict” – something the speaker still has right now but will soon leave behind.) The jealousy explains why, he says, he outfitted her with a yashmak (.15) and imposed all kinds of other purdah-like restrictions. 547.4: “goods waif:” goodwife: female head of household or establishment. See next – a little woman (or, simply, person) would also be a waif. (By most accounts, the real Fulvia was anything but: Plutarch and others have her emphatically bossing her men around.) 547.5: “Fluvia, iddle woman to the plusneeborn:” given Latin fluvia, river (McHugh), the “plus-“ in “plusneeborn” may derive from Latin pluisset, pluperfect for “to rain.” In other words, “rainborne” (285.15), with an overtone of “newborn.” Compare also 204.18, 627.8-12. 547.5: “iddle woman:” compare 4.28-9: “He addle liddle phifie Annie ugged the little craythur.” “The little woman” is/was a traditional husbandly term of affection for the wife. 547.7: “fawned on, that which was loost:” see McHugh. “That which was lost” is Stephen’s “Scylla and Charybdis” translation of the name of Perdita in Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale, and Perdita comes from, in McHugh’s words, a character named “Fawnia in [Robert] Greene’s Pandosto.” Also, Fulvia (.5) is Latin for a female fawn. Also, of course: to fawn on somebody, to be fond of somebody. The spelling of “loost” for “lost” almost certainly brings in Lucia, Joyce’s daughter, as Perdita was daughter of King Leontes. 547.12: “Tollollall!:” Toodle-oo! 547.15: “ymashkt, beyashmakt, earswathed, snoutsnooded:” possible disagreement with McHugh here. These seem to me to be four ways of saying that she’s wearing a yashmak, which would cover mouth, nose and possibly ears, but not eyes. A snood covers the hair; in a poem Joyce calls it “the sign of maidenhood” – again, testimony to the young ALP’s virginity. 547.15: “ymashkt, beyashmakt:” as in “yclept,” “bemired:” Spencer-like archaisms 547.16: “raft:” reft, taken by violence, as in Pound’s (post-FW) “shall not be reft from thee.” Also, raft as verb – he rafted her down the (“flumingworthily”) flumen, Latin for river. Compare (and contrast) 202.5-6: “She had a flewmen of her owen.” 547.16-7: “leftlead her overland the pace:” to lead someone the pace is to outrun them in a race. Line 27 says that this is her “maidan race.” 547.17-26: “from lacksleap up to liffsloup, tiding down…os:” “tiding down:” a boat or ship that follows the outgoing tide is or was said to be tiding down. Accordingly, the place names or designations that follow here are sequentially downstream, from Leixlip to the last downstream bridge, Liffey’s (“liffsloup”) Loop Line Bridge. Leixlip (“lacksleap” (.17)) is upstream from “Hurdlesford” (.18 – a.k.a. “Ford of Hurdles,” generally agreed to have been where the Father Mathew Bridge is now situated.) (“Kevin’s creek” (.17), Kevin Street (according to Mink, going by its original name of “Kevin’s Port” in the first draft; four words earlier, “portreeve” appears), is in the same area, relative to Leixlip, but some distance from the Liffey.) Gardiner’s Mall (“Gardener’s Mall” (.19)) is downstream from Hurdlesford. “Ringsend Flott and Ferry” (.20): Ringsend is downstream from Gardener’s Mall, and in Joyce’s time was the site of a ferry, the one taken in “An Encounter.” Next we have arrived at “wavebrink” (.21), the wave’s – sea’s - brink, and the “dart to throw” (.21, see McHugh) marks a dart’s throw into the ocean, in order to establish a further eastward extension of the settlement’s border. Having reached the open sea, the sailor then raises sail (“upreized my magicianer’s puntpole” (.23)) and heads out into (“tridont”) the oceanic realm of the sea-god, with his trident. (Not coincidentally, a variant on the E siglum, here as three teeth.) Three other terms along the way (“riverside bank,” “embankment,” and “strond”), though customarily associated with New York (Riverside Drive), London (The Embankment) and, again, London (The Strand), can of course apply to the Liffey as well. (Query: how then to explain the beginning, “lacksleap up?” I suggest that it be read as paired with “tiding down” – that is, from the most upward point on the itinerary to the most downward – the uprushing tide from the Irish Sea carrying her from its highest upriver point, Leixlip, down to the last bridge (Loop Line) and out to sea, with os as river’s mouth, at sea’s edge. Compare ALP on the last page – “Carry me along, taddy…” “I rush, my only, into your arms” (628.8, 4) – again, with a play on the phrase “arms of the sea.”) 547.17: “lacksleap:” Leixlip, the beginning of the journey ending in the Irish sea, traditionally marks the farthest point upstream reached by spawning salmon. It is also traditionally the outer edge of the Viking pale, centered in Dublin. As Mink notes, it is where the Liffey crosses from County Kildare to County Dublin. According to the washerwomen of I.8, ALP’s infantile origins were in the uplands of Kildare (202.31). 547.22: “quailless:” besides (McHugh) fearless – perhaps at the end of the quays – out to sea 547.23: “magicianer’s puntpole:” magic wand or staff, perhaps Prospero’s, certainly Poseidon’s trident: see next entry. Also, the pole used in punting. (At .25 we get “rookwards,” backwards, and punters pole backwards.) Also, the (“farruler”) ferrule of .24 adds a walking stick to the mix: Stephen’s ashplant in “Telemachus” has a ferrule. This one definitely stresses the “rule” part. 547.23-4: “the tridont sired a tritan stock:” Poseidon as bearer of trident, as sire of Triton. Spelling of “tritan” may incorporate Tristan. 547.24-5: “and I bade those polyfizzyboisterous seas to retire:” in addition to (see McHugh) Canute, Moses parting – ruling - the Red Sea by raising his staff, here equipped with a (“farruler”) ferrule. (Reverses the Canute story: this time, he tells the sea to reverse course, and it does.) 547.25: ”rookwards, thou seasea stamoror!:” Noah’s (or Gilgamesh’s) raven – in the spirit of “Good riddance,” since it never returned. (The dove did.) Also, this is the last example of HCE’s signature stammer, to which he is saying goodbye: again (see first entry for .4), he is growing in confidence in the process of assuming his role of male mastery. The FW raven had itself been a stammer or stammerer, doing some version of “caw caw” (73.10, 327.35, 329.13, 357.20, 413.35, 534.26): “seasea” as variant of c-c is probably meant to signal that sound. Also - on the verge of a concentration of allusions to Norse mythology - a Viking ship’s raven flag: compare 62.4, 480.1, and 539.35-550.1, with notes. 547.25: “I abridged with domfine norsemanship:” see note to .29-33. 547.26: “norsemanship:” Viking seamanship. Also, damn fine horsemanship: there is also (see .16-7 and note) a horse race going on, in fact this whole impassioned monologue will conclude with a rush to the finish line, with ALP happily whinnying to “the switcheries of the whip” (554.8-9). 547.27: “baresark:” “Tam O’Shanter”’s “sark” is a nightgown, in Burns’ poem a notably (“cutty”) short one, worn by a fetching young witch. Here, it is short to the point of arse-baring. 547.27: “knew:” biblical “know:” to have sex with her. Compare next entry. 547.28: “with all my bawdy did I her whorship:” as McHugh notes, this is from the Anglican wedding ceremony: “With my body I thee worship.” It does not occur in the Catholic equivalent. HCE is Anglican. 547.29-33: “Heaven…hallthundered…Heydays…tenspan joys…arsched…strongbow…ringstresse:” Like “abridged” (.25), elements from Das Rheingold, scene 4. McHugh: “Wagner’s Rainbow-Bridge is created by Donner, crying ‘Heda! Hedo!’” Also present: Donner’s (“hallthundered”) thunderstorm before the Rainbow-Bridge goes up; the bridge’s destination of (“hallthundered”) Valhalla; the all-powerful (“ringstresse”) ring, in dispute throughout. “Tenspan” (span), “arsched” (arch), and “strongbow” (rainbow) all relate to the Rainbow-Bridge. 547.29: “Heaven, he hallthundered:” according to Vico, thunderstorms initiated marriages by scaring couples into caves. 547.29: “Heydays:” one’s heyday is the best time of one’s life. 547.30-1: “arsched overtupped:” “arse over tip” (McHugh) means upside-down. In “Circe” it carries a sexual innuendo, as does the Shakespearean “tup” of “Scylla and Charybdis.” 547.31: “from bank of call to echobank:” from one side of river to the other 547.31: “by dint of strongbow:” the bridges were set up by virtue of the rainbow-shaped arch, strongest of structural shapes. Of Dublin’s bridges, the one that most fits would be the Ha’penny Bridge (other names: Wellington, Cast Iron, Metal, Liffey), upstream from the O’Connell Bridge. 547.32: “streng:” Danish for chord, in this case a chordal, choral conjunction of male and female voices, united in passion. Considering proximity of “strongbow” (.31), perhaps echoes one of the versions (e.g. “Stranghose,” “Strigull”) of Strongbow’s real name. From line 14 on, some of the highly turbulent marriage ceremony being described probably traces to the marriage of Strongbow to Eva (or Eve) MacMurrough, especially as represented in a monumental fresco by Daniel Maclise, signaling the final subjection of Ireland. As Glasheen says, it “pictured the marriage as occurring on the open battlefield of Waterford, amid burning houses and dead bodies.” Strongbow is shown with his foot on a Celtic cross. 547.36-548.1: “what low of dampfbulls!):” what lowing of bulls - possibly including a ship’s bullgine 548.4: “canailles:” dogs. Their barkings have “canzoned” to supply the voices to the (“canzoned,”) canzones – songs - at the wedding, accompanying the “music” of the “singing sands” of the Hebrides. Nature is definitely contributing: holy ointment from geese (see next entry), the bride’s eyes as flowers. 548.3: “herbrides music:” someone making wedding arrangements seems to have messed up: instead of Mendelsohn’s Wedding March, for brides, we get his Hebrides Overture, usually suggestive of dark and spooky doings. 548.3-4: “goosegaze annoynted uns:” goosegrease (McHugh) as both holy ointment and sauce for food. Compare the “duckloving drake” of “Circe,” killed to “graize” “cabbage.” 548.4: “me to she her shyblumes lifted:” Nora Barnacle had blue eyes. 548.5: “pudd:” pud: slang for penis. (See next entry.) Also, pudding. The wedding is a feast, and he is feeding her to fatten her up. (Compare notes to .30, 549.31.) 548.5-17: “I pudd a name and wedlock boltoned round her…I chained her chastemate…who cut her ribbons…I did umgyrdle her about:” Roman wedding. The bride’s dress was fastened with a belt/girdle tied with a complicated “Herculean Knot,” symbolizing chastity. The groom appeared and carried her off with a stagey show of force. In the bedchamber, he untied (ungirdled) – or, here, perhaps recalling Alexander and the Gordian Knot - “cut” the knot. Compare Donne, in “Holy Sonnet 14:” “untie, or break that knot again.” Also, see third note to .10, note to .10-11. 548.5-6: “to carry till her grave:” that is, till death us do part 548.6: “durdin:” Dame Durdin, folk-tale homebody housekeeper; mentioned often in Dickens’ Bleak House. From glamor girl to household drudge, in short order. (By line 8, she is a chambermaid, like Kate (and, in June 1904, Nora) responsible for the chamber pots.) 548.6: “durdin dearly:” phrase: dear dirty Dublin 548.6: “Appia Lippia Pluviabilla:” as Brendan O Hehir notes, both the Appian Way, from Rome to Naples, and the Aqua Appia, the aqueduct which terminated at the Temple of Venus 548.6: “Lippia:” Latin lippa, bleary-eyed 548.7-8: “I chained her chastemate to grippe fiuming smugglers:” a trick chastity belt: instead of obviating penetration, it grabs and holds onto the male perpetrator in the act. Your annotator has heard one or two jokes along this line. 548.8: “grippe:” acute cold 548.8: “fiuming snugglers:” Fiume had a history of being a center for smugglers. 548.8-9: “her chambrett I bestank so to spunish furiosos:” like an animal marking its territory with urine or other scent 548.8-9: “spunish furiosos:” Orlando Furioso - though, to be sure, an Italian, not a Spanish, work 548.9: “hochsized:” high-sized 548.9: “cleavunto:” probably also: cleave in two. (Bloom, in “Circe,” on women: “the cloven sex.”) Like FW’s opening word “riverrun,” encompassing English “rive” and French river, to rivet, “cleave” is a contronym. 548.10: “lauralad:” besides Petrarch’s Laura, Lorelei, the siren of German myth 548.10: “pisoved:” a pissabed is a dandelion. In the language of flowers, it symbolizes faithfulness. As for the piss part, see first note to .8-9. As herbs, dandelions are diuretic. 548.10: “who cut her ribbons:” ceremonial ribbon-cutting, here (“prowes” – prows (.11)) at launching of ship 548.10-11: “when not my prowes?” double-meaning: rhetorical question (who, if not I, did it?) and straightforward question (who did it, when my prowess was not up to it?). Sexual innuendo is clear; compare, again I.8, for instance 198.4-6, or this: “his runagate bowmpriss…roade and borst her bar” (197.35) – his ship’s bowsprit, phallically extending from the prow, not just crossing the harbor bar but bursting through it. 548.11-2: “beachalured:” beach-lured (because they’re sailors (“ankerrides” (.10)) riding at anchor). Also, bachelor-anchorites, being sorely tempted 548.12-3: “in trinity huts they met my dames:” Dame Street forks into College Street and Nassau Street, both adjoining Trinity College. Joyce met Nora on the latter. As one might expect, the song in the background, “At Trinity Church I Met My Doom,” about a marriage the singer regrets, undercuts the sentimentality. Compare next entry. 548.13: “pick of their poke for me:” not a pig in a poke, but the pick. May be a (very) sideways tribute to Nora. Compare “snoutsnooded” (547.15). 548.14: “sumbad:” Sinbad 548.15-6: “gifted of my coataways:” given my coat away 548.15: “cattagut with dogshunds:” cats and dogs 548.15: “dogshunds’ crotts to clene:” McHugh has French crottes, turds, for “crotts.” Certainly sounds like an extreme case, but in “Calypso” Bloom thinks that “Mulch of dung” is the “Best thing to clean ladies kid gloves,” and a list of female finery is about to follow. 548.17: “man of capitol:” that is, capital - that is, money 548.17: “umgyrdle:” ungirdle: undress. (Occurs in this sense in “Telemachus.”) Also, equal-oppositely, German umgürtle, girdle: he goes on to detail all the nice clothes he bought her. 548.19-22: “liberties…catalogue…(see stockinger’s raiment)…(see Agnes’ hats):” department store (McHugh: Liberty’s, quite upmarket) catalogue, followed by directions to the ladies’ hosiery and ladies’ hats sections 548.20: “turkeythighs:” given context, what “Oxen of the Sun” calls “Turkey trunks,” otherwise known as harem pants. Also, more food, more fattening 548.20-1: “soft goods and hardware:” in the language of retail, “soft goods” are, primarily, apparel and bedding. “Hard goods” would include hardware among other items. Certainly a sexual innuendo as well: her softness makes him hard. 548.21: “ladderproof:” ladders in stockings are what Americans call runs. Hence “stockinger’s raiment” (.22) – lamenting what has happened to the raiment 548.21: “hosiery lines:” that is, a brand’s “line” of apparel – here, of hosiery 548.22: “stockinger’s raiment:” Coppinger’s “Lament:” “The Lament,” a poem by Arabella B. Coppinger. It is a dialogue between two lovers in which the woman chooses the man by rejecting the sorts of luxuries here being bestowed on the bride. (Silk stockings, however, are not in the poem’s catalogue of raiment.) Also, see entry for 55.19: it may be a coincidence, but we have just heard of a husband whose extreme tough-love way with his wife is to bolt her down, lock her up, and chain her with a chastity belt (.5-7), and the legendary “Cruel Coppinger” was said to have routinely tied his wife to the bedpost. 548.23: “peningsworths:” perhaps combines U.S. department chains J. C. Penney and Woolworth’s. If so, decidedly a step down from (see .19-20 and note) the luxy Liberty’s. Oxford editors have “penigworths,” which might incorporate pfennig, the German penny. 548.23-4: “silver waterroses:” water-roses: white lotuses. They symbolize purity. 548.24: “wispywaspy:” sheer, wasp-waisted: again, for the fashionably de luxe. Compare next entry. 548.27-8: “on looks:” given the French patch coming up, en luxe – in luxury 548.28-9: “La Primamère, Pyrrha Pyrrhine, Or de Reinebeau, Sourire d’Hiver:” Eve was the first mother; Pyrrha, wife of the Greek Noah, would have been the second first mother. “Or de Reinebeau:” probably the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. (Gold, as in leaves turning yellow, may qualify it to be Autumn, following, as McHugh notes, pyrinos, Greek for “fiery,” as in the heat of summer.) 548.29: “wide a shire:” widdershins – counterclockwise, and generally considered bad luck 548.29: “pattens for her trilibies:” McHugh notes that pattens are overshoes and “trilby” slang for a woman’s foot. (See next entry.) The Trilby of the du Maurier novel has “astonishingly beautiful feet.” A trilby is also a woman’s hat, popular in the late 19th century. Perhaps a case of pied-a-terre equal-opposites 548.30: “the tortuours of the boots:” uncomfortable woman’s footwear. Pattens, usually meant to be worn over regular shoes in muddy weather, would presumably be exceptionally uncomfortable when worn, tout court, by a lady with Trilby’s exquisite feet. 548.30-1: “bedes of wampun with to toy and murcery glaze of shard to mirrow:” tradition that Manhattan was sold to North American Indians – the Manhattans – for trinkets, including beads and mirrors. (See 549.4 and note, and 539.2, where it is probably not accidental that “minhatton” consorts with “buybibles” – Bibles, baubles, buying.) Compare Murphy, in “Eumaeus,” on Indians of Bolivia: “Glass. That boggles ‘em: Glass.” “Wampun:” wampum: American Indian for money. “Murcery glaze:” until the mid-19th century, mirrors were made from glass with a mercury backing. “Shard:” fragments of (broken) glass, including glass mirrors, are frequently called shards. All in all, this marriage arrangement comes with definite drawbacks for the woman: Footbinding, either literal or in the sense of excruciating fashionable footwear (see entry for .30), shiny bright “toy”s of the sort appealing to children and aborigines, and – the female symbol – a mirror, sooner or later broken, bringing its seven years of bad luck: compare “Alis, alas, she broke the glass!...ours is mistery of pain” (270.21-2), a history of pain after getting married to a “mister.” 548.31: “to toy…to mirrow:” today, tomorrow 548.32: “by me and theetime, the cupandnaggin hour:” tea time – tea drunk in cups or “naggins” – small drinking vessels. “Me and thee time” recalls the lyrics (“A boy for you, a girl for me”) of the popular song, “Tea for Two,” elsewhere heard in FW. 548.33-4: “I wound around my swanchen’s neckplace a school of shells of moyles marine to swing their saysangs inher silents:” another passage anticipating FW’s last page, where ALP’s swan song’s “moyles and moyles” (628.3), signals the Thomas Moore song “Silent O Moyle,” sung by “Lir’s lonely daughter,” changed to a swan, to the Moyle Sea, between Ireland and Scotland. Hence, “swanchen’s, “moyles marine,” “saysangs,” and “silents.” It is probably pertinent that Nora’s name was Barnacle, as in barnacle goose, here changed to a swan (FW contains several variations on this theme) and that one of the two birthstones for her March birthday is the aquamarine. (The other one is the heliotrope: compare 470.20 and note. In “Penelope,” Joyce has Molly, born in September, quite incorrectly thinking that the aquamarine is her birthstone – probably a private joke.) “Saysangs:” swan/sea songs, as in “That song sang seaswans” (383.24). “Swanchen’s:” German Schwänchen, baby swan or cygnet, which may be why the necklace of shells is around her “neckplace” – her neck has not yet grown to proper swanlike length. “Inher silents:” inner silence, like Hopkins’ “elective silence,” a religious prescription for world-denying sublimity, in this case enabling her to hear the songs of the sea; “Inner Silence” is the title of a poem on the theme written by Joyce’s patron Harriet Monroe. Fish come in “school”s and shells do not, but compare Stephen in “Proteus:” “High water at Dublin bar. Driving before it a loose drift of rubble, fanshoals of fishes, silly shells.” 548.34: “swing their saysangs:” in “Wandering Rocks,” compare “swingswong,” the sound of Stephen’s ashplant swinging through the air. 548.35: “her aldritch cry:” orgasmic. (Obvious?) Compare, for instance, 395.32. Overtone, noted by McHugh, of “eldritch,” as in the “eldritch scream”s of Gothic fiction (the Gothic pastiche of “Oxen of the Sun” includes an “eldritch laugh”) sustains the pleasure-in-pain element running throughout. 548.35-6: “what though exceeding bitter:” again, anticipates ALP’s swan song: “O bitter ending” (627.34-5) – the bitter taste of the salt sea as the river flows into it. 549.1: “Soll leve!:” sun, arise! It will, beginning in the next chapter. 549.1-19: "with mare's...Hy Kinsella:" E. L. Epstein, A Guide Through Finnegans Wake, 224: "At first the Dublin lighting took the form of cressets, metal baskets with fires within them, then candles and tapers, then gaslight, and finally electric lighting...Joyce here is historically accurate. The Pigeonhouse generator was set up in 1903, and by 1922 the hydroelectric resources of the Shannon were exploited." 549.1-2: “mare’s greese cressets:” see McHugh. “Mare’s grease” – horse corpses, rendered down, and here used as fuel for street lights – was an industrial product of the time. The spelling of “greese” adds goose grease to the mix. (Compare 548.3-4 and note.) Now, a long shot, from your annotator. For the nearby “Madonna lanthorns” (.2-3), McHugh records a time in Paris when the only street lamps were “in front of madonnas at street corners.” I suggest that a “mare’s greece” cresset, incorporating French Mére de grâce, an epithet for the Blessed Virgin Mary, is a variation on the same theme. (Again, a long shot: I’d say the odds are better than even, but not by that much.) 549.3-4: “tallonkindles…syngeing nickendbookers:” the tallow candles (McHugh) are singeing something, probably the edges of the pages of books being read by candle-light. Perhaps “tallon-”/tallow because made from animal fat. See .5 and note. 549.4: “nickendbookers and mhutton:” knickerbockers and (contracted) Manhattan. See 538.33 and note, 548.30-1 and note, and compare 442.8-9 and note: James Fenimore Cooper’s writings made “Dietrich Knickerbocker” the symbol of New York, especially Manhattan. “Mh:” Irish aspiration. 549.4-5: “mhutton lightburnes dipdippingdownes:” more candles. Mutton candles are a variety of (“tallonkindles” (.3)) tallow candle; dip (“dipdippingdownes”) candles can be either tallow or wax. See next entry. 549.5: “tapers:” wax candles – higher class than (.3) the tallow variety. Probable contrast between sense of slender, tapered fingers (again, associated with the upper class, especially elegant ladies) and (“tallonkindles”) talons of .3. In Ulysses, fingers are several times called “talons” – never a compliment. 549.7: “the prince of pacis:” Jesus, the prince of peace. His temporary absence is giving the pagans a break. 549.9: “septuor:” the Heptarchy – seven tribes that ruled Britain (but not Ireland) from approximately the departure of the Romans until King Alfred 549.10-2: “bloody…mournful:” both McHugh and Oxford editors insert “horrible” between “terrible” and “mournful,” thus bringing the number of Ku Klux Klan “months” to twelve. 549.13: “duindleeng lunas:” when the moon is waning (dwindling), he will turn up the light from other sources, as detailed in the next entry. 549.13-9: “helphelped of Kettil Flashnose, for the souperhore of my frigid one…lamping limp…through all Livania’s volted ampire…by Arklow’s sapphire siomen’s lure and Wexterford’s hook and crook lights:” an electrically powered lighthouse, Crookhaven in County Kerry on the west coast combined with Hook in Wexford on the east, signaling (“helphelped:” Help! Help!) either S.O.S. S.O.S. from a ship in distress or assurance that help is on the way. Both regions had a history of wreckers, using lighthouse-like lights to lure ships onto the rocks, to be wrecked and plundered. In “Nausicaa,” Bloom’s evening sight of Bailey Lighthouse makes him think of “wreckers.” 549.14: “souperhore:” supper hour, beginning with soup. Also, compare “super whore” (183.27). 549.15: “Wastewindy tarred strate:” McHugh identifies this as West 23rd Street in Manhattan. For most of Joyce’s life, it was the center of the theatre district. New York streets were, or were thought to be, paved with tar. (Not, for sure, gold.) A West Wind would have a straight, powerful conduit down the west-east cross streets on Manhattan’s grid. In Shelley’s “Ode to the West Wind,” the west wind is a wasting bringer of death. Perhaps also an echo of Damascus’ “Street called Straight,” visited by Saint Paul 549.15: “halles:” as in music halls. Compare “Hades:” “a rollicking rattling song of the halls.” Also, as (McHugh) Paris’s Les Halles, more food 549.15-6: “lamping limp from black to block:” compare Portrait, chapter two: “a few lanterns hung in the night breeze, flickering cheerlessly.” More generally, he is installing street lamps, replacing the “black” of night with what from above would look like rectangular blocks bordered in lights. The electrification of Ireland ran from the 1880s up until the 1940s. 549.16: “Livania’s volted ampire:” overtone: Britannia’s vaunted empire. (Also, the Roman Empire of Augustus and Livia.) The previous line’s allusion to (“Elgin’s marble halls”) the Elgin marbles, relocated from Athens to the British Museum, recalls that these technological innovations can enable imperialistic expropriation. 549.16: “Livania’s…ampire:” Livia, consort to the Emperor Augustus, with overtone of “sylvania” – abundant in forests. Also, the Liffey 549.16: “volted:” vaunted 549.16: “ampire:” the Empire, a London music hall, lit up – amped – by electricity 589.17: “the topazolites of Mourne:” “top of the morning:” a typical/stereotypical Irish greeting 589.17-20: “topazolites…sapphire…peurls:” topaz, sapphire, pearls: from a distance, municipal lights look like jewels. 549.18: “Wykinloeflare:” as McHugh notes, the “Viking name of Wicklow town.” Mink adds that “the Vikings maintained a navigational beacon there” – yet another lighthouse - and that the “loe” in its name is Old Danish for “blaze.” 549.18: “Arklow’s sapphire siomen’s lure:” compare “Michael Arklow” (203.18). “Siomen’s:” seaman’s, semen. Also, Mink: Siemens Schuckert: “Ger[man] electrical equipment firm; it constructed the power sta[tion] of the Shannon hydroelectric works...FW credits it also with the lighthouses at Arklow and Wicklow (245.8, 549.18) and the electrification of Dub[lin].” 549.19: “hook and crook:” by hook or by crook. The founder’s methods are not over-nice. 549.20: “pearls ahumming:” compare opening sentence of “Two Gallants:” the street’s gas lamps are “Like illumed pearls.” “Ahumming” indicate that gaslight has since been replaced by electricity, with its humming wires (cf. “Wires hummed” (98.14)) – again, an ongoing development throughout most of Joyce’s lifetime. Compare next entry. 549.20-1: “the crown to my estuarine munipicence:” the Liffey is an estuary, here being crowned with humming (electrical) pearls. Also, eastern (Asian) magnificence, regal munificence, with pearls crowning the municipal display 549.21-2: “three firths of the sea I swept with draughtness and all ennempties I bottled em up in bellomport:” distinction between draught beer and bottled. (Washing out empty beer bottles is a job of Sackerson, the assistant; see, e.g. 141.8-9.) Also, to “sweep the sea” is to clear it of undesirables – pirates or (“ennempties”) enemies; Holland’s Admiral Maarten Tromp was said to have attached a broom to his ship’s mast because he had “swept the English from the sea.” (Among others, the Emperor Augustus was also credited with having rid the seas of pirates.) Similarly, enemy naval forces are sometimes described as having been “bottled up” in port. 549.25: “what is seizer can hack in the old wold a sawyer may hew in the green:” hack and hew – two actions involved in cutting down trees. What Caesar did in the old world – seize an empire, by force – his ruder counterpart may do in the new world of Tom Sawyer’s America. Both empires will involve a good deal of deforestation. 549.25: “seizer…sawyer:” see-saw 459.25-6: “old wold…green:” old wood versus new (green) wood. Has a seasonal meaning for gardeners, but here probably applies more to the “old growth” and “new growth” timber of forestry. 549.25: “old wold:” in Britain, “wold” frequently connotes landed-estate country-house old money. 549.25-6: “a sawyer may hew in the green:” sawyers saw wood, here greenwood - in the hue of green. 549.26: “the wildth of me perished:” in context, wild part or stage of life. Also – see next entry – those who live by the sword shall perish by the sword. 549.27: “took my plowshare sadly, feeling pity for my sored:” abandoning his wild youth, leaving soldiery (sword) for farming (ploughshares), he has settled down to a life of comfy domestic copulation (one of several FW comparisons of intercourse to sowing), which, being, accordingly, less frequent and vigorous than before, at least (though, to be sure, sadly) prevents his penis from getting (pitiably) sore. “Sadly” originally meant steadily or seriously – the opposite of wildly. Compare 327.25-328.3, where love and marriage induce the fierce Viking “Norgeyborgey” to “beat his barge into a battering pram.” Also, possibly a version of Bruno’s motto “In tristitia hilaris hilaritate tristis:” here, as pleasure in sadness. 549.29: “burn:” OE: water from fountain or well 549.31: “her turlyhyde I plumped with potatums:” comparing one’s beloved to a whale is odd, but in their early days Joyce did sometimes encourage Nora to gain weight. “Potatums:” potatoes 549.32: “biblous beadells:” given .29-30 allusion to “The Cricket on the Hearth,” this probably refers to Maria Beadnell, Dickens’ first love, fictionalized in Little Dorrit as the (bibulous) Florence Finching, whose stream-of-consciousness ramblings anticipate Molly Bloom’s. The Beadnell-Finching connection was public knowledge as of 1910. (Probably not coincidental that Bleak House was heard from at 548.6.) 549.33: “duffed:” dubbed 549.34-5: “Sire Noeh Guinnass, exposant of his bargeness:” Guinness’ Liffey barges; the drunken Noah (by way of Sir Arthur Guinness’s production of alcoholic beverages and of his water-borne barges; Noah invented liquor and had an ark) showing his nakedness (here, probably, his large arse: Eric Partridge has “barge-arse” as current in Joyce’s time) to his son Ham; American “ass,” in “Guinnass,” may figure in. (There are a number of FW cases where the American “ass” equivalent of “arse” seems plausibly pertinent.) 549.36: “I screwed the Emperor down:” Napoleon’s tomb. Screwed down or not, the lid definitely looks heavy enough to (finally) keep him confined. 549.36-550.1: “with ninepins gaelic with sixpennyhapennies:” Napoleon was born in 1769. 550.1-3: “my worthies were bissed and trissed from Joshua to Godfrey but my processus prophetarum they would have plauded to perpetuation:” my procession of the nine worthies, as traditionally staged (“craftygild pageantries” (594.32-3)) by guilds of craftsmen and tradesmen, was so popular that the audience called for encores (“Bis!:” compare “TUTTI” in “Circe:” “Encore! Bis!”), and even re-encores (“Tris!”), but that was nothing compared to how they would have responded to my staged procession of the prophets, which was or would have been so amazing that they would never have been allowed it to close down. (Love’s Labour’s Lost includes a staged procession of the nine worthies.) 550.3: “see press:” in context: check your local paper for listings and times, for instance of the show just described. 550.6: “- Steving’s grain for greet collegtium:” evidently a response to the previous comment, that he’s underfed: here, a collection of grain. “The Great Collect” is part of the Catholic and Anglican liturgy. Stephen’s Green would go with Luke’s Leinster (and it here occupies Leinster’s usual third place in FW’s lists of the four provinces), but I can’t identify any other such geographical markers for the other three. 550.7: “The S.S. Paudraic’s in the harbour:” perhaps because Joyce’s friend Padraic Colum went to America. (Joyce once told Colum that he had been “worked into” FW.) American ship names are prefixed with “S.S.” 550.8: “carlen:” darling. Paired and contrasted with the “mongoloid” introduced at .17: the first is being fed, the second excretes. ALP’s number is usually three, but here – compare “Duanna” (551.6) – seems to be divided into two, upper half and lower half. 550.8-9: “linsteer:” youngster – by contrast with “carlen”/carline, as McHugh notes, ME for old woman. Why, as noted by McHugh, Leinster? Perhaps because, as an Irish Augustus, he has been recounting his building of, mainly, Dublin, which is in the province of Leinster. 550.10-1: “shains of garleeks:” chains of garlic heads 550.9-11: “italics of knobby lauch…garleeks:” McHugh: Knoblauch is German for garlic. “Garlic-eaters” was a slur for Italians or people of (“italics”) Italian ancestry. 550.11: “swinespepper and gothakrauts:” pigs and goats 550.12: “subleties in jellywork:” both McHugh and Oxford replace “subleties” with “subtleties.” What one 1917 cookbook calls “elaborate gelatine dish[es]” – gelatine desserts moulded into ostentatiously ornamental shapes – were popular for dinner parties. 550.14: “pudding, bready and nutalled:” breadnut pudding 550.14: “potted fleshmeats:” fleshpots; refreshments 550.15: “the drugs of Kafa and Jelupa:” the latter probably refers to juleps – sweet drinks, sometimes medicinal and, in Joyce’s time, best known in the form of mint juleps, a traditional Kentucky cocktail. (Joyce’s friend Maria Jolas, from Kentucky, could have told him about them.) Considered as drugs, coffee is a stimulant and a mint julep, being alcoholic, a depressant. Also, “drugs” as dregs 550.15: “dampkookin:” damper: an Australian term for bread baked in the ashes of a fire – here, in the kitchen 550.15-6: “shallots out of Ascalon:” Elaine of Astalot, Tennyson’s “Lady of Shalott” 550.17: “saffronbreathing mongoloid:” the opposite of “garbage breath” (.9). In cooking, saffron adds a sweet, flowery scent; it is also (again, unlike garbage) very expensive. Given racialist dimension of what follows, probably implies mixed-race – e.g. mulatto. Napoleon’s Josephine would be an example. 550.18: “Biorwik’s powlver:” as McHugh notes, Borwick’s Baking Powder; advertisements of the time claimed that it “makes the bread so white.” Compare note to .18-9. 550.18: “Uliv’s oils, unguents of cuticure:” in the ancient world, olive oil was the oil of anointment. (Of course, it is also used in cooking.) 550.18-9: “oils, unguents of cuticure, for the swarthy searchall’s face on her:” In early 20th century ads, Cuticura soaps and ointments stressed their “whitening” powers. “Swarthy” is of course dark-skinned. Compare 538.3-4, where a “niggeress” (537.24) is attempting to whiten her “cocoa contours” with (white) “talc.” African-Americans of the period sometimes purchased products advertised as skin-whiteners. As noted before, Issy’s mirror-self Marge is sometimes dark-skinned; here, either ALP or her (“tussy”) vagina (see first note to .20) is “brown but combly” (.20). 550.19: “handewers:” a hand-ewer – mostly used to pour water for washstands 550.20: “a carrycam to tease her tussy out, the brown but combly:” see next entry. A currycomb used to tease pubic hair: this certainly contrasts with the “carlen”’s (.8) daintiness. 550.20: “tussy:” pussy. See next entry. 550.20: “brown but combly:” given context (see McHugh), probably pubic hair 550.21: “mopsa’s broom:” Mopsa: a fairy whose broom clears away the shadows of night. Also, in The Winter’s Tale, a country wench, given to jealousy. (The word “broom” never appears in the play.) Also, broom – the plant, not the implement - as shrub, or leaves of shrub. Here, used as toilet paper; compare 79.15-6: “when a frond was a friend inneed.” 550.21-2: “clubmoss and wolvesfoot:” wolf’s foot (or wolf’s claw) is another name for lycopodium/clubmoss. It can irritate or inflame the mucous membranes – “her more moister wards” – and has been used as an aphrodisiac. (This is presumably why, in “Circe,” Virag, an authority on recondite smut, recommends it to Bloom.) Its spores are highly combustible and, as “lycopodium powder,” were used in the early days of flash photography. 550.22: “efficiencies:” apartments with limited facilities for washing and cooking 550.23: “doveling:” compare ALP as “diveline” (202.8). Also, Dublin 550.24: “saloons esquirial:” in the FW years, a saloon in this context would have been a large cabin for someone traveling first-class on an ocean liner. (Compare 323.27 and 395.10 and notes.) Overtone of “esquire” confirms. 550.25: “giltedged librariums:” gilt-edged books in a private library 550.26: “wring her withers limberly:” this is confusing. He is reviewing all the nice things he did for her, but in no sense is wringing someone’s withers a nice thing to do, limberly or otherwise. 550.26: “wheatears:” Mohammed had a dove which he fed with wheat out of his ear. 550.27: “drapier-cut-dean:” diamond cut diamond; Jonathan Swift-cut-Jonathan Swift. In other words, who but Swift would be a match for Swift? (A good question.) 550.28: “lairdie:” laird, feminized with addition of “lady” 550.29: “oilclothed:” oil paintings. Also, oilcloths as protective coverings for furniture 550.31: “Dirk Wettingstone:” a whetstone would be used to sharpen a dirk. 550.32-3: “Mrs Currens, Mrs Reyson-Figgis, Mrs Dattery, and Mrs Pruny-Ouetch:” what do currants, raisins, figs, dates, and prunes have in common? They are all, or usually would be by the time they were on the Dublin market, dried and shriveled. The same goes for the quetch, which in the words of the OED is “often dried or stewed.” These are names of high-toned (and dried-up) old ladies. (Is the “O” in “Ouetch” a mistake for “Q?” Not according to the Oxford editors.) 550.34-5: “dabblingtime for exhibiting her grace of aljambras and duncingk the bloodanoobs:” 1. In light of “clocksure” and “ballast” (.551.1), it’s pertinent that the (“duncingk”) Dunsink Observatory determined “Dunsink Time,” which was also Dublin time: Dublin’s definitive (“ballast” (551.1)) Ballast Clock ran on Dunsink Time. 2. Dancing the Beautiful Blue Danube waltz in double-time certainly gave her a chance to show of her “grace”-ful –“jamb”s–, legs. For her partner, see entry after next. 550.35-6: “duncingk…in her vauxhalls:” a Vauxhall dancer – one of the “Vauxhall ontheboards” (58.33). Such dancing would be considerably more accelerated than a waltz – that is, at normal tempo. Also, see next entry. 550.36-551.1: “dizzed and dazed by the lumpty thumpty of our interloopings, fell clocksure off my ballast:” 1. Vauxhall entertainments included tightrope-walkers, one of whom has lost his balance and is falling like Humpty Dumpty. 2. Keeping up with the (“dabblingtime” (.34)) double-time waltzing has made him lose his balance, from all the twirly “interloopings.” 3. Vigorous sex – the thumps of our interlooping rumpy-pumpy – left me dizzy and dazed. Possibly, she was the “ballast” he fell off of. 551.1: “windtor palast:” like much of the European royalty of Joyce’s time, the Romanovs, with their Winter Palace, were related to the English Windsors, of Windsor Palace. 551.3-4: “chauffed her fuesies at my Wigan’s jewels while she skalded her mermeries on my Snorryson’s Sagos:” see McHugh. Foot to head, the latter containing memories, being recalled to mind by the skald. In other words, warming her feet at the coals in the fire (again, see McHugh)– natural enough, in a (.1) winter palace - while listening to someone telling stories 551.5: “lecking icies off the dormer panes all admired her in camises:” Spanish incamisa: unshirted. (At .14 a “prostitute” will be “shiftless.”) They licked the ice off the (Winter Palace) window panes to get a better view of her form – both when admiring her fashionable attire and when minus said attire; compare 395.8-12. 551.6: “in camises:” in camera 551.6-7: “on Rideau Row Duanna dwells, you merk well what you see:” Hyde Park’s Rotten Row was a favorite flirting and trysting spot for tony young horsewomen, here accompanied by a chaperoning duenna. (“Rideau” probably sounds overtone of “Riding” or “Riders.”) As the case of Acteon illustrates, it could be dangerous to observe Diana, horsewoman and virgin goddess of the hunt, too closely or completely – for instance in looking behind the rideau, French for curtain. 551.7: “you merk well:” Dutch je merkt wel, meaning: you will notice 551.7-8: “let wellth were I our pantocreator would theirs be tights for the gods:” 1. With “let wellth” as (McHugh) Dutch let wel, meaning mark you. Paraphrase: To be sure, if I were in charge, the results would really be something to see – a sight for the gods. 2. Some of the verbal interplay escapes me, but it clearly relies on a double sense of the “pant/o” in “pantomime:” first as “pants” (compare 257.20, 434.8-9), second as panto, all. Linking the two is the fact (again, see 434.8-9) that pantomime artistes often wore tights, not pants. 3. The highest and most distant seats in a theatre are “the gods,” because nearest the ceiling, which was often painted with images of classical divinities. Ironically, rather than an actual site for the god-like, they were usually taken by the low-paying hoi-polloi. 4. Jesus as Greek and Byzantine Pantocreator, perhaps as the world-watching figure depicted in the frescoes on church dome ceilings, for instance at Cefalù or Palermo in Sicily. Combining this god with the theatre-going “gods,” and Pantocreator with panto-producer, would be entirely typical of Joyce’s brand of sacred-profane mix-and-match. Compare next entry. 551.7: “pantocreator:” Oxford editors have “puntocreator,” which would bring in Joyce himself, FW’s “illstarred punster” (467.29). If (see previous entry) Jesus is the pun-master as well, it would be from his “TU ES PETRAS, ET SUPER HANC PETRAM AEDIFICABO ECCLESIAM MEAM,” inscribed in another dome, Saint Peter’s. 551.8: “reddinghats:” red riding hats, sometimes used in hunts. Also, speaking of (see above) Saint Peter’s, would be right for a conclave of cardinals. 551.9: “cindery yellows and tinsel and glitter:” French etincelles, sparks, glittering in the fireplace, along with the glowing cinders. In general, part of a list of theatrical effects in a Christmas pantomime 551.9-10: “I made nusance of many well pressed champdamors and peddled freely in the scrub:” I made use of the well-worn paths through the field and also walked (with my feet) freely through the “scrub” – lands, by contrast, unvisited by pedestrians. Overtone of “piddled” (McHugh; compare 7.29) could be recalling the park scandal: see entry for .12-3. Making use of the scrub for that purpose, he made a public nuisance of himself. 551.10: “well pressed:” well-dressed; perhaps also well-pleased, as in the “wellpleased pleasers” of “Proteus.” Oxford editors have “wellpressed.” 551.10: “well pressed champdamors:” French champ d’amour: love and love-making, often compared to a field of combat, as in (McHugh) Paris’s Champ de Mars; perhaps also troubadours 551.12: “joybelled:” Christiani suggests either/both German jubeln / Danish juble, to rejoice. In “Wandering Rocks,” Father Conmee remembers the song “The Joybells Were Ringing in Gay Malahide.” 551.12-3: “light-a-leaves:” in “Scylla and Charybdis,” a “light of love” is a prostitute. Compare 266.26-267.1, and see next. Paired with “traemen” (.13), three men, a memory of the two girls and three soldiers of the park scandal. This time around, the girls are leaves, the men trees. 551.14: “I said the to the shiftless prostitute; let me be your fodder:” Synge’s inclusion of the word “shifts” in The Playboy of the Western World caused outrage. Also, perhaps another allusion to Gladstone’s attempts to reform (young) prostitutes, with the usual FW insinuation of ulterior motives. (Note: “;” is confusing here, since this clearly seems to be indicating that “let me be your fodder” is what he “said.” There are other instances in this sequence where the distinctions between colon, semicolon, and comma seem problematic. In general – compare note to 162.9 – FW punctuation can sometimes raise doubts about how careful or consistent the book’s near-blind author was able to be.) 551.15-6: “omnient as the Healer’s word:” literally, all-denying, with overtones (ironic, as underscored by capitalization of “Healer’s”) of omniscient, omnipotent. “Healer’s word:” a ward heeler was a local political operative, assumed to be a machine hack. (For faith-healers, much the same.) 551.16-7: “for the lost, loathsome and whomsoever will:” as in the “To whom it may concern” of a last will and testament 551.17-20: “regimentation…latification:” “-ation” words are the trademark of the twelve customers. Here, the general sense is that they are getting organized in order to improve their collective lot. 551.23: “lighters:” flat-bottom barges 551.25: “under astrolobe from my upservatory:” most generally, a lobe is a rounded projection – for instance, a pod. From Joyce’s time into our own, many astronomical observatories have been constructed as domes, with a slot thorough which the telescope points (to observe) upward. (See, for instance, “Observatories” in Wikipedia Images.) Observatory combined with astrolabe: among other things, the astrolabe was used to identify and track stars and planets. Here, it is also an opening, perhaps in the roof, above an outdoor toilet. Compare Bloom, in “Calypso,” sitting on the privy seat: “Before sitting down he peered through a chink up at the nextdoor window.” Compare next entry. 551.26-7: “wherewithin to be squatquit in most covenience:” squatting on the toilet seat. Again (see 24.2, 219.2, 433.24-5, .6), “conveniences” is or was a polite term for public toilets. 551.27: “covenience…sabbath:” witches’ sabbath, in a coven 551.27-8: “when open noise should stilled be:” see 314.28-9 and note. In using a public toilet (.25 and note) a well-bred lady would naturally want, as 386.2-3 puts it, to “keep all the horrid rudy noises locked up in nasty cubbyhole.” 551.28: “with mortarboard my unniversiries:” mortarboard hats worn at university graduation; mortarboards used by brick-laying builders of universities: not quite the same as Finnegan’s hod, but close 551.29: “sophister agen sorefister:” typical university face-off between academically serious students and pugnacious “hearties;” Wilde, for instance, once physically expelled four of the latter from his Oxford rooms. “Sophister,” of course, comes from Greek for wisdom, here opposed to brawlers with sore fists, from all their fisticuffs. 551.30: “two stellas of little egypt:” “Little Egypt” was the stage name of two belly dancers, both of whom became famous in Chicago in 1893, one at the World’s Columbian Exhibition, the other at the World’s Fair. (A third was to become notorious for her role in a New York society scandal. There were many imitators who took the same name.) Also, the two women of the Dublin coat of arms. Also, probably, the pair of steles, each called Cleopatra’s Needle, named for an Egyptian temptress: note “Threadneedles” at .33. 551.31: “rockcut readers:” the letters on the Rosetta Stone – a stele (.30) - are cut in rock. 551.31: “hieros, gregos and democriticos:” a Vico-ish progression: divine, (gregarious) group, mob 551.31-2: “triscastellated, bimedallised:” 3, 2; perhaps should be joined with two upright steles of .30 – an invariable Issy signature – to make 1132. (.32 and .33 will follow with a 7 (HCE) and a 12 (the customers).) 551.32-3: “Hibernska Ulitzas:” surely Ulysses, Joyce’s Hibernian version of the story of Ulysses. See three entries after the next. 551.33: “made not I to pass…and Vicus Veneris to cooinsight:” some tricky syntax. Paraphrase: Didn’t I make “not I” (see next entry) pass through twelve needles, and didn’t I also make “Newgade” and “Vicus Veneris” coincide? 551.33: “not I:” see note to .32-3. Odysseus, as No-man in the Cyclops’ cave. 551.33-4: “to pass through twelve Threadneedles and Newgade and Vicus Veneris to cooinsight:” the twelve central episodes of Ulysses (the “Odyssey”) correspond to a mariner’s negotiation of obstacles and hazards; the last three (“Nostos”) might be read as about the approach to and attainment of (“Veneris”) love; “cooinsight,” by way of both Noah and Columbus, is the (cooing) dove whose return shows that the end is in sight. (It is also the right bird for a (“Vicus Veneris”) lovers’ lane, with its billing and cooing. 551.33-4: “twelve Threadneedles and Newgade:” again (see 494.3-4 and note) suggests that Joyce was aware of the tradition that the “Eye of a Needle” of Jesus’ words about the rich was actually the name of a small Jerusalem gate. Still, the severity remains, is in fact multiplied: a rich man getting into heaven will be like a camel having to pass through not one but twelve eyes of needles, not coincidentally named for the address of the Bank of England. Also – see previous entry – Odysseus retakes command in Ithaca by shooting an arrow through twelve axe-heads, as if threading not one but twelve needles. 551.33-4: “Threadneedles and Newgade to cooinsight:” paired opposites: Threadneedle Street the headquarters of London capitalists; Newgate Prison a famous London prison for impoverished wretches – paired contraries made to (“cooinsight”) coincide. 551.35-552.1: “Oi polled ye many but my fews were chousen (Voter, voter, early voter, he was never too oft for old Sarum):” 1. See McHugh on the rotten-borough Old Sarum, whose voters were few to the point of zero; 2. Echoes old Irish-American political gag: Vote early, vote often 552.1: “terminals:” in light of (see McHugh) Irish rail services, train terminals 552.3-10: “And I sept…holied!:” I built an ecumenical site of religious worship – sept (see next), nave and vault, minsters, “-kirks,” ark for Protestant covenanters, sinner’s refuge, St. Peter’s and St. Paul’s and Hagia Sofia. 552.3: “sept:” enclosure in church 552.3-5: “my stavekirks wove so norcely of peeled wands and attachatouchy floodmud, now all loosebrick and stonefest:” the Gaelic for Dublin is Baile Àtha Cliath, “Settlement of the Hurdle Ford” – that is, a ford in the Liffey made of hurdles, that is, woven boughs (“peeled wands”) and river mud. For “attachatouchy,” McHugh and Mink (Mink has a question mark, signaling uncertainty) give Georgia’s Chattahoochee River. (Dublin, Georgia is on the Oconee River (3.7), not the Chattahoochee.) 552.4: “norcely:” as McHugh says, Norse, nicely. Dublin was founded by Vikings. 552.5: “loosebrick:” “It may half been a missfired brick” (5.26). See next entry. 552.5: “stonefest:” steadfast stone: opposite of “loosebrick” 552.6-7: “descent from above on us:” address to dove depicted at the top of St. Peter’s dome. See entry after next. 552.7: “Astralia:” star-land 552.8: “our aeone tone aeones thy studvaast vault:” a comment, probably onomatopoetically imitative, on vault’s acoustics, here echoing the chanted “orisons” (.7), perhaps with reference to St. Paul’s whispering gallery 552.8-9: “Hams, circuitise! Shemites, retrace!:” see above: again, probably circulating/echoing of sound in whispering gallery. “Circuitise,” usually spelled “circuitize,” means to make a complete circuit. 552.9: “no barkeys!:” on behalf of enforcing silence in the cathedral, no barking dogs allowed. (Perhaps no carnival barkers, either.) Goes with orders to Noah’s two disreputable sons, Ham and Shem, to keep a wide berth, get back, and be quiet. (Noah’s third son Japheth is not named, and may be the one giving the orders. Normally, FW incorporates Ham into Shem, the outcast son cursed by both his father and by the one virtuous brother.) Also compare 62.31, where a “barkiss” is a revolver, so called because of its (conventionally) “bark”ing sound when fired. 552.9: “hereround:” see preceding three entries. 552.13-4: “gobelins guard!: tect my tileries!:” Protect my tiles/Tuileries! (Tuiles is French for tiles; the Tuileries was originally a tile-making factory.) Before occupation by the Paris Commune, the Tuileries included Gobelin tapestries. Its roof (“tect,” from Latin tectus, and roofs are often covered with (“tileries”) tiles) and interior were destroyed in 1871; the structure itself was torn down eleven years later. 552.14: “keep my keep:” defend the castle keep 552.15-6: “my four great ways: oathiose infernals to Booth Salvation, arcane celestials to Sweatenburgs Welhell!:” shortly after the building of a church (.3-10), the prospects for the afterlife. Four “ways” or not, I can count only two, roughly comprising salvation through works and salvation through faith: the infernally odious are converted and saved through the good works of (McHugh) William Booth’s Salvation (Oxford editors have “Salivation”) Army; the divinely inspired are already headed toward a Swedenborgian Valhalla. (As usual, there are complications, some of them coinciding contraries: “Sweatenburgs” may include Purgatory, where sinners excrete impurities, and “Welhell” certainly seems to include Hell. “Booth Salvation” includes (compare 26.18-9) the Salvation Boat of The Book of the Dead. “Well hell!” “Welhell!”) sounds a lot like (“oathiose infernals”) an infernal oath. 552.16-7: “My seven wynds I trailed to maze:” Seven narrow lanes (“wynds:” McHugh), intersecting, would make for a maze. Allusion to Ariadne and her thread trailing through Daedalus's maze 552.16: “My seven wynds:” Christ’s seven last words – another variation on the theme of the afterlife. (It’s perhaps pertinent here that the “words” are actually sentences.) Also, the Hindu god Vayu commands seven winds. 552.17-8: “I trailed to maze her:” I tried to amaze her. 552.18-9: “flagged with the gust, hoops for her, hatsoff for him and ruffles through Neeblow’s garding:” the winds blew the flag out, blew up her hooped skirts, blew off his hat, and ruffled the gentleman’s knee-ruffles (ornamental lace worn to guard the knee-buckles). It also ruffled the flowers in the garden. Also, a sequence of celebratory gestures: flying a flag, hoop-hurrah, hats off, ruffles and flourishes 552.19: “Neeblow’s Garden:” Nibelung: dwarf and guardian of treasure in Siegfried saga 552.20: “Blabus:” as Latin for stammer, this recalls HCE, the stammerer 552.20: “eltering the suzannas:” elder, getting older. Combined with (McHugh) Eltern, German for parents, and the story of Suzanna and elders, a variation of FW’s theme of old men lusting after young women – perhaps why in this case the male (“Blabus”) is singular and the female is plural. 552.22: “auburn:” Nora Barnacle had auburn hair. 552.23: “massgo bell:” bell signaling mass 552.23-4: “bell, sixton clashcloshant:” a six-ton bell, clanging. (Philadelphia’s Liberty Bell is the best-known, but Mink does not include it here, and your annotator can find nothing corroborating in the vicinity.) 552.23: “sixton:” a church’s sexton. Bell-ringing is part of the job description. 552.24-5: “duominous and muezzatinties to commind the fitful:” a mosque typically consists of a domed structure, plus minarets from which muezzins call the faithful to prayer – the Islamic equivalent the church’s “massgo bell,” “commind[ing] the fitful” (.24-5). 552.24: “duominous:” Dominus of Latin prayer 552.24: “muezzatinties:” mezzotints: given context, religious scenes in church publications and posters 552.24-5: "fitful" given context, probably alludes to tradition that Mohammed was subject to epileptic fits 552.25: “lauds:” Archbishop Laud, early 17th century proponent of high-church Anglican liturgy. As English “laud,” prayer, as praising God, to (“tellforth’s glory” (.26)) tell forth his glory. 552.26-7: “shallow laver to slub out her hellfire:” baptismal font at front of church; also, bidet. For an infant, it washes away original sin; for a loose woman, it both cools her lust and soothes rashes or whatever resulting from sexual or other incontinence. 552.27: “hellfire:” Dublin’s Hellfire Club, identified by McHugh, was irreligious and anti-religious, devoted to flouting Christian pieties. 552.27-8: “gospelly pewmillieu:” includes “pew,” perhaps on the gospel side of the altar 552.28: “christous pewmillieu:” Christ be with you 552.28: “zackbutts:” hackbut: Renaissance firearm; see next entry. 552.29: “chillybombom:” bombom: sound of guns (or bombs); Turgesius and Ota (see McHugh), like the English and the speaker, were victors through violence. 552.30: “altarstane:” “stane” is Scottish for stone – specifically, the Stone of Scone, which was, after being stolen from the Irish and before being stolen by the (“sass her nach” (.29), Sassenachs, that is, English, positioned next to the altar. Ceremonially important for coronations 552.30: “May all have mossyhonours!:” May Allah have mercy on her! (But compare note to 550.21-2.) Also, may the church or cathedral be around long enough for moss to grow on it. 552.35-6: “ – And wholehail snaeffell, dreardrizzle or sleetshowers of blessing:” an extravaganza on Ezekiel 34:26, “showers of blessings,” frequently quoted in the sermons and homilies of Joyce’s time. “Wholehail” is probably a drawn-out “while,” to pair with the “where” of .36. 552.36-553.1: “fairskin book:” foolscap paper. Also, red-headed people, who tend to be unusually pale, were sometimes called “fairskins.” Also, “anthropodermic” books, bound in human skin, have been a collector’s specialty since the late 17th century; the first on record was a Bible, and there have been several anthropodermic volumes of pornography; “vein” and “vergin page” would seem to go with the latter. Here, also seems to go with the Thomas Moore song “Take Back the Virgin Page,” of line 1, the page in question being a blank piece of letter paper that the singer is reluctant to fill with his inadequate writing. 552.36: “where it froze in chalix:” Specifically, the communion wine (and water) froze in the (frozen) chalice. In general, extremes of the weather he has endured 553.1: “vergin page:” “vergin” instead of “virgin:” Virgil/Vergin interchangeably: both spellings have long occurred in about equal number. Sortes Virgiliana: the Roman practice of opening the Aeneid at random and taking the first verse noticed as a guide for the day; some Christians have done the same with the Bible. 553.2: “learn:” American slang for “teach” 553.2: “countrymouse:” in the story of “The City Mouse and the Country Mouse,” the naïve one 553.2-3: “alphabeater cameltemper:” Hebrew gimel means “camel.” Compare 107.34. In the words of an old American schoolchild song, this is “Readin’ and writin’ and ‘rithmatic, taught to the tune of the teacher’s stick.” He is teaching his illiterate student her A B C’s, and his methods are severe, with a pronounced S & M component: he is her “chastener” (.1), an “alp[ha]beater,” flailing away with birch (“alderbirk” (.3)) and “rattan” (.3). Whether in classroom or bedroom, he did not spare the rod. Compare 554.7-9, and see next entry. 553.3: “tannenyou, with myraw rattan:” tan: American slang for spanking or whipping (occurs in Huckleberry Finn), e.g. to “tan” someone’s “hide,” until it’s raw. Hence “rattan,” a word in its time virtually synonymous with the whipping of students and other subordinates. Here, goes with “cuts” (.6), “bludded,” and “agore” (.7) – a nasty business. 553.3: “myraw rattan:” raw rattan is rattan in its original state, with its tough skin intact. (Peeled rattan, with the skin removed, is used for furniture, rugs, etc. – see entry for .4-9.) 553.3-4:” rattan atter dundrum:” probably onomatopoetic: a rattan is also (OED) a “drumming or beating noise.” 553.4: “ooah, oyir, oyir, oyir:” given last few entries, probably the cries of the whipped. That they may involve cries of pleasure (O yes o yes) seems a possibility left open. 553.4-9: “I did spread before my Livvy….my selvage mats of lecheworked lawn:” again (see .3 and second note), some rugs are made from rattan. The term “mat selvage” shows up in maritime manuals on knots and, until the early twentieth century, rigging on sailing ships. It can also apply to basket-weaving – probably, in fact, to any kind of weaving or knotting or splicing, with, in this case, strips of peeled rattan, here for either/both a rattan rug or, for ALP, an elegant gown of “lacework lawn,” using “lawn” in the sense of fine linen. (In “Circe,” an ivory gown is fringed with “tasselled selvedge.”) In other words, he is 1. weaving a carpet for her to enter on; 2. outfitting her to be a doormat; 3. outfitting her to be a society belle or grande dame. From 553.1 on, she is being alternately or simultaneously degraded and exalted. The whipping sounds go from him being her “chastener” (.1) to, at the end, her laughing along in appreciation as he uses the whip on horses, perhaps (“Down with them!” (554.9)) other kinds of underlings as well. 553.5: “Cammomile Pass:” echoes earlier allusion (551.33-4) to Christ’s declaration that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. London’s Cammomile Street is about a hundred yards from Threadneedle Street – felicitously enough, the address of the Bank of England. 553.5: “Cammomile Pass cuts Primrose Rise:” both streets are in the City of London, the financial center – therefore, presumably, the domain of the well-to-do. (“Rise” may suggest new-rich uppitiness; see next entry.) 553.6: “cuts:” pointedly ignores someone’s presence: a high-society insult 553.6: “Coney Bend bounds Mulbreys Island:” as McHugh says, Mulberry Bend Park, N.Y.C. Perhaps worth mentioning that it is also an exceptionally obscure part of the New York cityscape. Nathan Halper, lifelong New Yorker and avid Wakean, lived within its vicinity and still had no idea. Joyce, who never visited America, got it from the “New York City” entry in the 11th Encyclopedia Britannica. It is nowhere near “Coney” Island, which just happened to be mentioned on the encyclopedia’s previous page. 553.8: “blighty:” Cockney slang for England 553.8: “blighty acre:” Bloody Acre, a.k.a. Field of Blood: in Jerusalem, a cemetery for foreigners, by tradition on a spot purchased with Judas’ “blood money.” (In one version, Judas’ body, hanged or not, “burst open” and drenched the site in blood.) Note proximity to the “bludded” “agore” of the “pessovered” (.7-8) Passover. 553.9: “lawn:” fine linen 553.9. “Guerdon City:” Garden City, on Long Island. The name conveys the civic ideal of Rus in Urbe. 553.11-2: “summiramies:” Sumerians. (Sumeria had the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, qualifying it for this catalogue of the seven wonders.) 553.12-3: “Pardonell of Maynooth:” Maynooth is, arguably, the spiritual center of Irish Catholicism, the origin of the “Maynooth Catechism” taught to all candidates for confirmation. There is no “Cardinal of Maynooth,” but Maynooth bishops and archbishops have sometimes become cardinals. Joyce believed that the Irish clergy, including cardinals, had betrayed (“Pardonell”) Parnell. Pardoning sinners is, of course, part of an ecclesiast’s job. 553.13: “Nielsen, rare admirable:” Nelson’s Pillar, one of the “D[ublin] statues from Parnell Square to College Green” noted by McHugh; Nelson was a Rear Admiral before eventually being promoted. 553.14: “Porteleau:” water-carrier; Joyce was born in the sign of Aquarius. (In “Ithaca,” Bloom is a “watercarrier.” Since, astrologically, he is actually a Taurus, this probably signals a semi-secret link to his creator.) 553.18: “lisbing lass:” old proverb: “A lisping lass is good to kiss.” Lesbos or Lesbian are definite possibilities as well. 553.19-20: “hops…barlow…bowery:” hops and barley are two ingredients essential for beer, here being brewed in a “bowery”/brewery 553.20: “rigs of barlow:” barley ricks 553.21: “pampos animos:” Argentina’s pampas are cattle – animal - country. 553.21-2: “pons for aguaducks:” bridges for aqueducts; ponds for ducks; Lily Pons, contemporary operatic star 553.22: “feyrieglenn:” fairy glen 553.22: “hallaw vall:” Valhalla 553.23-4: “lickybudmonth and gleanermonth:” on French Republican Calendar, Germinal and Brumaire, months of budding and gleaning, respectively 553.25: “alpine:” ALP (Maybe obvious) 553.25-8: “I brewed…(speakeasy!)…pussyfoot:” See McHugh. “Pussyfoot Johnson” (so named because of his stealthy tactics) was a famous prohibitionist of the time, responsible for shutting down many speakeasies. He was known in Britain as well as the USA. 553.26-7: “granvilled brandold Dublin lindub:” compare 7.12: “A glass of Danu U’Dunnell’s foamous olde Dobbelin ayle.” Here, brand-old instead of brand-new. (As McHugh records, “lindub” is a version of Gaelic for porter or stout.) “Granvilled” presumably includes “grain.” 553.26: “wigwarming:” Earwig/Earwicker-warming; wigwam-warming. Compare 207.29-33, where ALP is an “angin mother of injons,” this time housed in an “igloo.” 553.27: “lindub:’ Lipton’s tea, being “brewed” (.25) - although as “frothy freshener” (same line) it could be both tea – “the cup that cheers but not inebriates” - and beer, with its froth. 553.29-30: “stony battered waggonways:” commencing a list of his municipal street-building and its traffic (553.29-554.9), wagon-ways, paved with stones, for the passage of (“trotters” (.29)) the draught horses drawing the wagons 553.31: “boullowards:” boustrophedonically – alternately from right to left and left to right. Compare 18.32. In “Ithaca,” Bloom’s collection of correspondence from Martha Clifford is boustrophedonic. Here, logically enough, it is “nordsoud,” also “eastmoreland and westlandmore” – as in for instance, even though its boulevards are called avenues, the Manhattan grid (compare 549.15 and note), with the traffic in streets and, sometimes, avenues alternating directions. 553.31-2: “(hearsemen, opslo!):” Horsemen, hey-day! (Also, “Up slow!” – the horsemen should slow up so that the “nuptiallers” can get starting.) “Horsemen” turned to ”hearsemen” is an instantaneous sic transit gloria mundi. 553.32: “nuptiallers, get storting!:” newlyweds, get starting! (Having sex!) Equally-oppositely counterpointed with “hearsemen” 553.33: “expect till:” apparently no genetic support, but “except till,” with “till” meaning “until,” would seem to make more sense 553.34: “hankinhunkn:” perhaps an allusion to Hocken and Hunken, a 1913 novel by Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch 553.35: “claudesdales:” perhaps Claude Duval, gentleman highwayman who rode a horse; compare 457.11, and see next. 553.35: “arabinstreeds:” an Arab horse (steed) was proverbial for excellence of breed; equal-oppositely, a street arab – an arab-in-streets - was a (pedestrian) beggar. Compare 98.13. Horsewise, Arabs contrast with low-class (“claudesdales”) Clydesdales, as McHugh says a “breed of heavy draught horse.” 553.36-554.1: “madridden mustangs, buckarestive bronchos:” mustangs ridden like mad (that is, to the extreme limit), bucking broncos restive in the manner of Bucephalus, the spirited horse that the young Alexander was able to tame 554.3: “my priccoping gents:” using the spurs to “prick” the horse to speed up. Perhaps an allusion to the first line of Spencer’s The Faerie Queene: “A gentle knight was pricking on the plain.” 554.3: “priccoping gents, aroger, aroger:” compare “Circe:” “the gentleman goes a gallop a gallop a gallop a gallop;” also “Wandering Rocks: “outriders leaping, leaping in their, in their saddles.” Slangily, “prick” = penis, “roger” = fuck. 554.4: “softsidesaddled:” “damsells” riding sidesaddle, on saddles made soft with saddle soap 554.4: “a perch:” 1. perched up (on the carriage); 2. a perch, a distance of about 5 ½ yards 554.6: “skewbald:” Skewball: famous 18th century racing horse, subject of ballads 554.7: “pleashadure:” plusieurs pleasures 554.8: “domino:” usually, a gown worn at a masked ball, or the mask itself. Compare note to .9. 554.8: “switcheries:” witcheries 554.9: “Down with them!:” the moment of unmasking: dropping the domino or vizard. Also (see McHugh) removing a woman’s drawers, here by command performance 554.10: “Mattahah! Marahah! Luahah! Joahanahanahana!:” presumably, the sound of her laughter (.8). 554.10: “Joahanahanahana:” Hannahannas: Hittite mother of the gods. Also, as the last word of the sequence beginning at 403.1 with the arrival of the four inquisitors and their ass, one final, lingering bray. The sound will wake up the sleeper at the beginning of III.4. III.4 FW’s first early-morning chapter, with references to dawn (566.7, 580.21, 583.18, 585.25) in the east, dawn breezes (.561.29), dawn light starting to filter through the window (586.29-31), rooster crowing (584.21), morning dew (568.10), morning frost (581.14), Irish “top of the morning” (584.25), and, repeatedly, grey morning fog (580.21, 583.18, 585.25, 587.28) - presumably the same that set in during the night (403.6) and will be “lofting” at the beginning of the next chapter (593.5-6). Milkman and, on his first round, mailman are expected soon. The time is, approximately, either 6:00 or 6:30 a.m., probably depending on whether one goes by G.M.T. or Dunsink Time. (See 517.23-30 and note.) The chapter’s main event is marital intercourse, presumably as a continuation of the heavily and aggressively eroticized reminiscences which surfaced near the end of the preceding chapter, especially 547.14-554.10. It is temporarily interrupted by “a cry off” (558.32). There are strong indications that it is witnessed, noticed, or overheard by others, including the manservant and the children. 555.1: “What was thaas?:” referring to “a cry off” (558.32) 555.1: “Fog was whaas?:” compare to the fog introduced at 403.6. Again, it will be dissipating by 593.6. 555.1: “Too mult sleepth:” 1. A groggy “Too much sleep” – a strange remark coming from someone waking at dawn, unless, of course, that person had also been, consubstantially, FW’s dreamer, dozing since I.1. 2. As McHugh says, “Too mult” is tumult. The last ten or so pages of III.3, when the sleeper, erotically aroused, was on the verge of waking up, were exceptionally tumultuous. 555.1-2: “Let sleepth:” in any case, he wants to be allowed to continue in bed – to be let alone to sleep. Or, contronymically, to be prevented from, let from, sleeping more. Or, oppositely, there may be slurred “less sleep” – what he really ought to get used to. 555.3: “But really now whenabouts?:” This and the next question would be natural, coming from someone – Rip Van Winkle, Finn, Finnegan – who had been asleep for a prolonged, indefinite length of time. Compare next entry. 555.3-4: “how much times we live in:” “the times we live in:” common expression of the period. Also, see previous entry: this sounds like someone inquiring not just about the time of day but about an era, on the scale of the Ice Age or Bronze Age. 555.7-8: “kinderwardens minded their twinsbed:” kinderwärters: German: child-minders. Here, the knobs of the posts of the four-poster bed in which the boy/boys sleep. Compare .15-24, where they are alternately two boys sharing one bed or top half and bottom half, sometimes right side and left side, of one boy: “twins” in FW sometimes (e.g. 329.2) includes Siamese twins. (The phrase “twin beds” was around in Joyce’s time, but indications throughout are that the FW brothers are close together, sometimes literally attached.) See next entry, and compare entry for .18-25. 555.8: “the sycomores, all four of them, in their quartan agues:” Ovid’s “Four Ages of Man.” Also, tokens of the four old men, especially as presented in II.4: sycamores, the number four, infirmities of age (McHugh: Quartan agues), and, again (see preceding entry) their role as overwatchers of youth 555.9: “fermentarian:” as McHugh notes, Formentera, one of the four Balearic Islands here listed. Mink adds that it gets its name from its “production of wheat.” (Latin frumentarium means “granary.”) Here, FW is fermenting the grain into beer. 555.11: “pussycorners:” in “Pussy Four-Corners,” four players form a square around a fifth player, starting in the middle, who tries to capture one of them by changing positions. Similar to game of “Fox and Geese” (557.13). Spatially congruent with most of the preceding three chapters: the four inquisitors, at their corners, looking down on Yawn, in the middle. Also, see 559.21 and note. 555.12-3: “poor old dying boosy cough:” Dion Boucicault died, unexpectedly, of pneumonia – hence the “cough.” He was seventy years old. If not exactly poor, he was often in debt, and, at the time of his death, in some disgrace due to his recent divorce and remarriage to a young actress. I have found one unsubstantiated source which includes him in a list of alcoholic (“boosy”) authors. 555.13: “donk:” a last remembrance of the donkey (usually called an ass) who was ubiquitous throughout III.1-3; at 557.1 the four old men will have been promoted to (“hearsemen”) horsemen. 555.14: “bumblin:” Dublin 555.14: “beeline:” behind. Also, to make a bee-line: to hasten in a straight line – here, definitely compromised by the bee being a well-named “bumble” bee. (Perhaps pertinent that whereas the first three of the four “Royal Manors” (Mink) listed - Esker, Newcastle, and Saggard – are, being all about ten-twelve miles west-south-west of central Dublin, quite close to one another, the fourth, Crumlin, being about two miles from the center, is the exception. Going straight from the first three to the fourth would involve crossing the Liffey in the approximate vicinity of the Mullingar House.) 555.16-7: “nicechild Kevin Mary (who was going to be commandeering chief of the choirboys’ brigade the moment he grew up:” see McHugh. Kevin Barry was a member of the Dublin Brigade, as opposed to, as martyr, singing in the heavenly choir. Compare notes to .18 and .18-9: Joyce generally shares Bloom’s sardonic feelings about the communal veneration (and encouragement) of of Irish martyrdom, musical and otherwise. 555.16: “Kevin Mary:” not unusual for Irish men to have female middle names; Michael Bodkin’s middle name was Maria. (Joyce’s, by mistake, was listed as “Augusta.”) 555.18-25: “irishmiled…icky:” the twins as top and bottom halves of the one child. Kevin’s discharge is spit-up, from the mouth; Jerry’s is excrement (and/or, precociously, semen) from the bottom, the “wrinkly waste”/waist: yellow, “lemon-colored lees” and “pulverised rubarbarborum” (.35-6). Rhubarb, elsewhere in FW included in sweet or overly sweet deserts (171.16, 249.11), was sometimes administered as a laxative. 555.18: “irishsmiled:” song: “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling.” Compare 176.22-3. Here as there, Joyce is uncharmed by the sentimentality, in fact considers it “icky” (.25). 555.18: “in his milky way:” overtone of Michael, Mike-y, Mick, Mickey – all variants of the typical/stereotypical “Mike” for Irish males; in FW it signals piety, righteousness, or, here – milksoppy good-little-boy obedience. Also, the Milky Way 555.18-9: “cream dwibble and onage tustard and dessed tabbage:” free indirect discourse: baby-talk matching his goody-two-shoes-ish-ness 555.19: “dessed tabbage:” dressed cabbage, in childish pronunciation. Dressed: improved with sauce or other addition, like the duckfat-based sauce in the song “Nell Flaherty’s Duck-Loving Drake,” remembered in “Circe,” added to boiled cabbage. 555.20: “Jerry Godolphing:” see 553.35 and note. As Glasheen notes, the Godolphin Arab was the horse “from whom all pedigreed race-horses are descended,” but for a time “was so little valued” that he was discovered “pulling a cart.” Glasheen hypothesizes that Jerry (as Shem) may share a similar Cinderella-like profile. 555.22: “unerr all the hospitals:” parallels “Kevin Mary’s” (Shaun’s) – “under all the auspices” (.18) – good brother up with the birds in the sky, bad brother in a rogue’s progress from hospital to hospital, presumably because of his bad habits: compare note to .23. 555.22: “waste:” as in waste disposal 555.23: “methylated spirits:” otherwise called methanol, a poison and a Shem favorite: 85.31-2, 92.3, 132.34. At 70.27 a Shem type is demanding “more wood alcohol,” a last-resort drink for hopeless alcoholics which during American Prohibition became known as a cause of blindness. According to Ellmann, Joyce was at one point advised by his doctors that if he kept on drinking he would go blind. He kept on drinking. 556.1: “infantina:” version of “Infanta:” “a daughter of the ruling monarch of Spain or Portugal, especially the eldest daughter who was not heir to the throne.” Contains Issy’s signature i i. 556.2: “she growed up:” actually, the remainder of the paragraph will have her growing backward, like the upstreaming ALP of I.8: “barely twenty” at .4, “still in her teens” at .6-7, “widow of eighteen springs” at .9, clearly a child by .14-5, “child of tree” (three) at .19 – see .19 and note. 556.3: “Saint Holy and Saint Ivory:” given plenitude of Christmas (and other liturgical days) allusions to follow, it’s probably pertinent that “The Holly and the Ivy” is a Christmas carol. 556.3: “took the veil:” expression meaning “became a nun.” Hence “sister Isobel” (.5). One of Joyce’s sisters, Margaret “Poppy” Joyce, became a nun. (At 527.23-4, Issy was thinking of taking or wearing a veil as protection against the world of men.) Compare next entry. 556.4: “presentation:” Before moving to Dublin and meeting Joyce, Nora was a Portress at Galway’s Presentation Convent. Also, the Presentation of Mary, as a child, to the temple in Jerusalem: feast day is November 21. See .19 and note, also 562.9-10, with McHugh’s note. 556.4: “so barely twenty:” Nora was just short of twenty years and two months old when she met Joyce; compare .13: “the night that first we met.” 556.4: “coif:” along with wimple and veil, part of nun’s headwear 556.5: “Mistlemas:” Michaelmas, September 29, is one of four quarter days in the calendar; Christmas, with its mistletoe, comes next. 556.7: “a peach:” at the time a complimentary term for a woman, especially a young woman. Compare, for instance, the earlier “Peaches and Daddy Browning” episode (65.5-34). 556.10: “lucksome” lightsome 556.10: “boyblue’s long black:” Bible’s (?) Most Bibles are black; black is of course the expected color for (“wonderful widow” (.9)) widows. 556.10-1: long black…veil:” the classic folk song of this name apparently postdates FW. Still, the phrase “long black veil,” in contexts usually creepy but sometimes high-fashion, shows up in several popular pre-FW texts, including Anne Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho. 556.11: “orange blossoming weeper’s veil:” coinciding contraries: orange blossoms for wedding (McHugh); “weepers” are stringlike appendages, dangling from headgear, worn at funerals. (Occurs twice in this sense in Ulysses.) 556.11-19: “orange…greengageflavoured…whitethorn:” the Irish tricolor. (A greengage is a kind of (green) plum.) 556.12: “pearl you prize:” Matthew 13:46: “pearl of great price.” 556.14: “sleeping in her april cot:” see note to line 18. 556.15: “greengageflavoured candywhistle:” I remember candywhistles. They came in different colors (and flavors) and, yes, you could whistle through them. A description from the 1900 American Stationer, Volume 65, p. 14: “The latest thing to make childhood happy is a whistle that can be eaten…Some wise inventor had made a candy whistle to enable little girls and boys to both eat and make a noise…They come in two styles, one poetically called the ‘bird warbler’ and the other happily named the ‘musical squeaker.’ They retail at a penny apiece.” The ones I remember were of hard candy. Google Images shows many colorful examples. 556.16: “duetted to the crazyquilt, Isobel:” impossible to ignore that Lucia, Issy’s model, was going crazy during this period. (See also 562.16.) It is as if, like a chameleon, “duetted” to the immediate environment, she is taking on the coloring of her field or covering - a “quilt,” whose differently colored squares prompt the mental disassociation commonly called schizophrenia. 556.18-9: “daphnedews, how all so still she lay, neath of the whitethorn:” 1. As McHugh notes, “all so still she lay” is from the song beginning “I sing of a maiden that is makeless.” It is about the Immaculate Conception: Jesus “came so still / Where his mother was / As dew in April / That falleth on the grass.” (Or, in a later verse, “falleth on the flower,” as in line .20, ‘like blowing flower stilled.”) “Makeless” means matchless. Compare next entry. 2. Tradition that a girl who early on a May morning stands under a whitethorn/hawthorn tree and is sprinkled with dew from its branches will grow up to be beautiful. 3. Daphne was changed to laurel to escape Apollo’s pursuit. Again, compare next entry. 556.19: “child of tree, like some losthappy leaf:” 1. Child of three. Traditionally, Mary was three years old when presented at the temple in Jerusalem. 2. Compare 628.7 and note – here as there, Issy as leaf following from her mother’s (laurel) tree. ALP’s middle name is Livia, and Livia, powerful wife of Emperor Augustus, planted a grove of laurel trees for her posterity. The grove withered and died with the death of Nero, her last direct descendant. 556.21: “win me, woo me:” for whatever reason, this reverses the conventional order. Perhaps an echo of Rosalind in As You Like It: “Woo me, woo me!” 556.23-6: “nowth…pass:” compare the introduction of “Petty constable Sistersen,” 186.19-21. 556.23: “tumbril:” as McHugh says, a farm cart, but also, ever since Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities, most widely known as the means of conveyance to the guillotine. Given that it is being driven by FW’s lower-order enforcer (compare 141.18: “sits in the spoorwaggen”), “choppy” (.24), followed by an alternate form of execution (see note to .27), may be suggestively unsettling. 556.23-4: “Wachtman Havelook seequeerscenes:” whether as spy, voyeur, policeman, informer, Watch-and-Ward guardian or in some other capacity, Sackerson is often around to witness secret doings. Here he’s watching and seeing queer scenes. 556.23: “Havelook:” the mediaeval legend of Havelock the Dane (Sackerson’s origins are Scandinavian) resembles Hamlet; many have considered it a likely source. Havelock is a prince of Denmark who is betrayed and exiled; for a time he works as scullion or in other lowly capacity (compare 555.20-1); eventually he is recognized and reinstated as King of Denmark, taking vengeance on his usurper. See next item. 556.24-5: “punkt by his curserbog:” right on schedule: as cop on his watch, he’s making all his appointed rounds on time. As noted in the entry for 7.28-9, Chapelizod had a police station. The manservant is usually identified with the book’s policeman. 556.25-6: “grassgross bumpinstrass that henders the pubbel to pass:” most obviously, “Keep off the Grass” – an ordinance which it would be Sackerson’s duty to enforce. Perhaps also signifies that the road has become impassable because of overgrowth. 556.26: “pubbel:” pub people. Perhaps includes the manservant’s role (“foottreats given to “malafides” (141.12-3)) as pub kicker-outer. 556.26-7: “stowing his bottle in a hole fore at whet his whuskle to stretch ecrooksman:” Sackerson, bottlewasher and drunkard, is repeatedly associated with bottles; here as a cop on his watch he has surreptitiously stationed certain bottles at various points along his round. “Whet his whuskle:” wet his whistle, i.e. have a drink. (The “Employee Wanted” ad for which he answered specified “profusional drinklords to please obstain” (141.24) – profuse/professional drunkards should either start abstaining from liquor or abstain from applying altogether – but he applied anyway, got the job, and has been secretly indulging ever since.) “In a hole fore at:” in a holdfast – that is, something which firmly secures an item. (Appears in “Ithaca”) 556.26: “hole:” considering the context, possibly Phoenix Park’s Hole in the Wall pub 556.27: “to stretch ecrooksman:” compare popular song, recalled in Ulysses: “The night before Larry was stretched.” Stretching a crook = hanging a felon. 556.27: “sequestering:” another overtone of “Sackerson;” also “questing” – seeking 556.27-8: “lovers’ lost propertied offices:” in “A Painful Case,” the southern area of Phoenix Park adjacent to Chapelizod is a site for “venal and furtive loves,” and many of the items turning up here (.29-30) in the lost property office (see McHugh) – eyeglasses, buttons, gloves, stockings, flasks (vinegar flasks, perhaps because their residues of wine have since gone bad), and the materials for women’s makeup – certainly sound like what might be left over from a conglomeration of furtive nighttime trysts. (Following Christiani, McHugh glosses “kikkers” (.29) as binoculars – but if stockings, male and female, were expendable, why not (“kicks”) shoes as well? See note to .29.) The likeliest location for such an office would be a police (post-1923, Garda) station. (Again, see 7.28-9 and note.) In any case, whatever the actual lost-property contents may be, the policeman/watchman has his suspicions about the goings-on they reveal. 556.28: “leavethings:” leavings. Also, left off, as in the “left off clothes” of “Sirens,” with its insinuation of improprieties 556.28-30: “og gneiss ogas gnasty, kikkers, brillers, knappers and bands, handsboon and strumpers, sminkysticks and eddiketsflaskers:” see note to .27-8. As elsewhere, a cluster of Danish words accompanies Sackerson’s appearance. Also, Oxford editors replace “handsboon” with “handshoon” – probably Dutch handschoen, gloves. 556.28-9: “og gneiss ogas gnasty:” nice or nasty – a constable’s basic range of possibilities; may relate to 556.26, above, since pebbles can be of gneiss and constables are charged with preventing the kind of window-breaking pebble-throwing that occurs at the end of I.2. 556.29: “kikkers:” again, given the predominance of articles of clothing in the list, this may signify shoes or boots; in Ulysses (“Wandering Rocks”) Boylan’s shoes are called “kicks.” “Knickers” also seem to be hovering in the background – in “Nausicaa,” Bloom remembers Molly removing hers with a “little kick.” 556.29-30: “handsboon and strumpers:” husband(s) and strumpets – the man of the house, straying from the straight and narrow 556.30: “sminkysticks:” lipstick(s), or some similar device for applying other kinds of makeup 556.30: “eddiketflaskers:” McHugh has eddikeflaskes, Danish for vinegar bottles; vinegar is sometimes used for removing makeup from either skin or clothing. Would seem to go with “sminkysticks,” especially if the liaisons (e.g. husband and strumpet) are illicit: lipstick on the collar, etc. 556.31-557.12: “wan…coort:” 1. I suggest that this paragraph incorporates elements of the nursery rhyme “Goosey-Goosey Gander.” Examples: “her native’s chambercushy” (556.32): “in my lady’s chamber.” “Schritt be schratt” (556.36): stechschritt is German for “goose-step;” “There was a crick up the stirkiss” (557.3): “The stairs went crack” (from alternate version of poem’s ending). “Gander…Googoo goosth” (557.7): “Goosey-Goosey Gander.” Interpretations of the poem available in Joyce’s time speculated that the original was an account of “priest holes” during the anti-Catholic persecutions of Henry VIII and Cromwell: hence, perhaps, the mysterious visitor, “sliving off over the sawdust lobby out of the backroom” (557.8). Like Maria in “Clay,” Kate is a Catholic servant in a Protestant establishment – one reason why she should here be called a native (556.32). For “last find night” (556.36), Oxford editors have “last fine night.” 2. As a servant seeing a ghost returning home, this resembles Chapter 67 of Sheridan Le Fanu’s The House by the Churchyard. Betty, the cook, “lifted the candle” to behold what she takes to be the “horrid gaze” of the “white eye-balls” of the ghost of her master, Charles Nutter. It turns out later that this is the real Nutter, alive after all, under suspicion of murder and in hiding from the law. The housemaid Moggy then sees him, and he orders her “to be quiet, and for her life to tell no one what she had seen.” Compare note to 557.3-12. 556.32-3: “dreamings of simmering my veal astore:” Kate, the establishment’s cook, is dreaming of cooking. 556.34: “dour:” in the prankquean episode of I.1, Jarl Van Houther is “the dour.” (Also, therefore, the door – the port – the porter.) 556.35: “to peirce the yare:” to pierce the air: a fairly common phrase describing sudden, incisive or intrusive noise, especially coming from a singer. Also, of course, Earwicker/earwig; earwigs, with the folk tradition that they enter the ear, pierce the skull, and burrow into the brain 556.36-557.1: “a tillycramp:” a telegram delivered around the same time as the milk would be a “night letter,” like the one sent at 308.17. 557.1: “Hemself:” himself: mock-solemn term for the man referred to (though “hem,” here as elsewhere leaves open the possibility that it might be “Herself”); as noted earlier (e.g. 168.1), a common expression in Ireland 557.1: “hoarsemen:” hearsemen, to go with the Apocalypse’s (see McHugh) End of Days. Still, a step up from the donkeymen of the preceding chapters. Also, considering all the talking they do, it’s not surprising that the four old men should be hoarse. 557.3-12: “galorybit...coort:” compare apparition recalled in Portrait, page 19. According to Stephen he “looked out of strange eyes at old servants” (compare “and the whites of his pious eyebulbs” (.12)). Chester A. Anderson confirms that the Clongowes ghost “appeared frequently to the family servants.” Anderson adds that the ghost was supposed to have been “a marshal in the Austrian army…who died at the Battle of Prague in 1757,” which would help explain the “Hapsburgs” (noted by McHugh) in “hapspurus” (557.6). (The marshal in question was in fact Maximilian Ulysses Browne, one of the Irish “wild geese” who fought for the Hapsburgs – as such another permutation of the “Goosey Goosey Gander” thread, noted in the entry for 556.31-557.12.) 557.3: “galorybit of the sanes in bevel:” interposition of the Catholic Kate’s idiom; compare 141.30 – perhaps because she is superstitious, and, again, because the Clongowes ghost “appeared frequently to the family servants.” See previous entry. 557.5: “blessersef:” bless herself. (Obvious?) Again, a Catholic, not a Protestant, reaction 557.5-6: “like milkjuggles:” Kate’s thought is here evidently still inflected by the real or imagined knock at the door – first an order of Schweppes mineral waters (a common delivery, one would expect, for an establishment like the Mullingar), then the postman (from the time when there were several mail deliveries a day), then the milkman. (In “Ithaca,” Bloom anticipates “a clattered milkcan, a postman’s double knock” as typical “matutinal noises.”) Dublin milkmen (and mailmen in general) customarily knocked on the doors to which they were making their deliveries. (“Knogg” (556.34) and “knogging” (557.5), probably, because a “knoggin” or (sometimes in Anglo-Irish) “knaggin” or “naggin” was a standard unit of liquid measurement.) It’s unclear to me whether the Schweppes delivery is coming or thought to be coming from the front door or back; normally one would expect morning milk and pub provisions to be at different entrances. 557.8: “sawdust lobby:” compare 245.30. 557.9: “honeymoon trim:” best clothes. McHugh has “naked.” I question this: would someone like Kate kneel down and bless herself when suddenly presented with a naked man, even ectoplasmically? As opposed to doing the ladylike thing - turning around and running away? 557.10-1: “tocher of davy’s, tocher of ivileagh:” as McHugh notes, this is “Tower of David, Tower of Ivory” from the BVM’s litany. Non-rhetorical question: who’s speaking? 557.10: “with the clookey in his fisstball:” compare “He made the sign of the feaster…One fishball with fixings” (377.11-14). Expression: “balled [the hand, the fingers] into a fist.” 557.11: “you sowbelly:” hardly respectful, but, still, an echo of “si bella 557.13-558.20: “each…Clarke:” The twelve customers, dreaming – what might be called a dream within a dream, and not the only example in FW. As jury members, in their sleep they review the host’s/accused’s main wrongdoings, especially the scandal in the park that was the subject of I.2 etc. As elsewhere in FW, they sometimes seem to fade in and out with the four old men. 557.13-4: “goodmen twelve and true:” “good men and true:” traditional term for twelve jury members. (Irish juries during the FW years would, almost always, have been exclusively male.) 557.14: “fox and geese:” as a playground game, similar to Pussy Four-Corners. (See 555.11 and note.) As a (“boord” (.15) board game, it pits one fox counter against, usually, thirteen geese counters, maybe here as a baker’s dozen of “juremembers” (.15): Joyce’s dozens typically come with a thirteenth “tilly.” Continues “goose” strain noted earlier (note to 557.3-12); also of Fox-Goodman, FW’s church bell-ringer 557.14: “numbered habitations:” jury members were commonly referred to “juryman number [1-12]” and required to occupy the same positions throughout the trial. (Here, also the numbered pigeonhole rack commonly stationed behind hotel receptionists, one space for each customer. The Mullingar House was once an inn, although in FW the twelve customers exited at the end of II.3.) In important trials, jury members are/were required to sleep in state-assigned habitations in the same inn, hotel, or whatever, as removed as possible from contact with others. 557.15: “old wireless” is evidently the defendant. As O.W., Oscar Wilde, coming over the pub wireless, he has earlier been on trial, mainly in III.3, and before then various intermingling broadcasts throughout II.3 have inspired unfriendly reactions, leading to a demand that the radio be shut down; in any case, it is now past (and before) broadcasting time. (The “wireless” appearance almost certainly involves Wilde’s snideness about Joyce, as reported in a supposed séance with his spirit; again, it was a commonplace of the time that radio transmissions through the ether were both parallel to and evidence of such psychical phenomena. In this regard, see especially 535.21-536.27.) 557.15-6: “by reverendum:” as with “riverrun,” includes French rêver, dream. The twelve are dreaming of the verdict they might collectively (by referendum) give or have given. 557.16-7: “guilty of their and those imputations of fornicolopulation with two of his albowcrural correlations:” like all commentary on the park scandal, this is vague, a matter of “imputations.” The “two” recalls the two girls; “correlations” (co-relations) insinuates incest; “albowcrural” might plausibly (see McHugh) denote “white-legged,” as displayed, for instance by the “quitewhite” temptresses (8.3), putting on what was called a “leg show.” 557.17: “fornicolopulation:” along with (McHugh) fornication and copulation, coleoptera, beetles. (Although closely related, earwigs are not beetles, but compare 546.7, 590.28 and note.) Also, recalls “Copulation without population,” anathematized by the “Carlyle” voice of “Oxen of the Sun” and presumably desiderated by most fornicators. 557.17: “albowcrural:” probable allusion to the Albemarle Hotel, site of Wilde’s assignations with young men and rent boys. (Confusingly, Wilde was also a member of the Albemarle Club.) 557.18-9: “schooling them in amown:” some of Wilde’s sex partners were schoolboys; in some cases he contributed to their school expenses. Compare next entry: pedagogical pederasty is definitely a presence. 557.20: “first conjugation:” 1. first sexual experience; 2. first language lesson, probably, because of intermittent intrusions from the twelve customers, with their incessant “-ation” suffixes (compare 142.16-25), in Latin. (The FW relationship between older man and young temptress is sometimes pedagogical, and this language lesson begins, conveniently, with (“amown” (.19) Amo, Latin for “I love.”) Assuming that “nation” (.24) counts, this list of “-ations” numbers 34, as opposed to the original and expected twelve of I.6, question seven. 557.20-1: “whose colours at standing up from the above were of a pretty carnation:” her hinderparts were red from having sat down for so long in the grass, listening to his lesson: seeing them, presumably when she stood up, was the moment he first desired her: see .22 and note; also, “under heat pressure” (.24-5.) (Given, among other things, the last page of the preceding chapter, this may be a cover story for flagellation, consensual or otherwise. In any case, “carnation” is etymologically akin to “carnal,” and it definitely excites him.) Words in this vicinity suggest that the lesson was at a “hedge school.” 557.21: “from the above:” “the above” is perhaps “grass” and/or a mow (pile of grain, grass, etc) from “amown” (.19). 557.22: “deretane denudation:” naked posterior. (McHugh: deretano is Italian for posterior.) 557.22: “with intent to excitation:” interspersed, we hear his side of the story: she started it; the fact of her “titillation” is surely a “mitigation” (.24, .25). 557.23: “firearmed forces:” armed (with firearms) forces: the soldiers, inevitable features of the park scandal. (“Forces,” as in the “in the force” of “Cyclops,” may bring in the police as well: see note to 556.27-8.) 557.24-5: “titillation which, he said, was under heat pressure:” in general, the reason why her bottom, when she stood up, was such a “pretty carnation” (.21). 557.25: “and a good mitigation:” considering above, especially the “titillation” (.24), who could blame him? 557.27-8: “reprobate so noted:” “so noted” is a common courtroom term from the bench – here, assigning it to the defendant as “reprobate,” obviously coming from a prejudiced judge. This would be entirely consistent with Joyce trials, for instance Bloom’s in “Circe:” “The accused will now make a bogus statement.” 557.29: “for denying transubstantiation:” A major theological/liturgical point of disagreement between Church of England and Church of Rome. Anglicans – and Protestants in general - hold different positions on the issue; for Catholics it is dogma. Again, the proprietor of the inn is Anglican, but Kate – and, usually, most or all of the customers – are Catholic. 557.30-6: “whereof…coagulation:” more excuses from the accused. He wasn’t physically capable of committing the charges against him. 557.35-6: “the curse of coagulation:” blood, thicker than water, can get even thicker still, as in sharing a family curse. 557.36-558.19: “outside Sammon’s…Clarke:” the courtroom language sometimes intermingles with voices from the rumor and trial scenes of I.2-4 and elsewhere. 557.36-558.2 recalls the idiom of the paired lowlifes from I.2, Frisky Shorty and Treacle Tom. See next entry. 558.1: “two or three:” these numbers together, in either order, typically signify the twins, Shem and Shaun, here as the two witnesses from I.2. Wilde’s rent boys, testifying against him in court, are probably present as well. 558.1-2: “pewterpint of Gilbey’s:” a pint of Gilbey’s gin, especially if unmixed, is a lot for the system to handle. FW 171.13 – “gulletburn gin” - knows what it’s talking about, as confirmed, here, by testimony of “esophagous regurgitation” and “eructation” (558.3-4, 5). A drinker whose “prime consolation” is gin in such quantities may have crossed the line between pubgoer and addict. From the 18th century on, gin addiction was recognized as a serious social disease. 558.4-5: “personally unpreoccupied to the extent of a flea’s gizzard:” mellifluous equivalent of: couldn’t care a rat’s ass 558.5-6: ”if he was still extremely offensive to a score and four nostrils’ dilatation:” a high degree of mephiticism. (To repeat, the young, non-bathing Joyce was, understandably, reputed to have smelt bad.) “Nostrils’ dilatation:” think of actor’s grimace signifying the presence of bad smell. The score-and-four twenty-four nostrils belong to the noses of the twelve customers, being heard from since 557.13. See next entry. 558.7: “the other side of him:” upwind, not downwind; also, at times the father ’s sons can embody his left and right sides. 558.8-9: “so prays of his fault you would make obliteration:” so, he prays, please: of his fault, be merciful and make of it an absolving obliteration – that is, obliterate it from your memory. Asking forgiveness of sins, evidently from a priest; echo of “mea culpa;” “prays [praise] of his fault” also recalls “felix culpa,” with “his” referring to Adam and his fall. 558.10: “Adam Findlater, a man of estimation:” indeed he was. In Ulysses Bloom thinks of him as an example of someone who has done very well. Exactly the opposite of someone (see next entry) behind bars. The Mullingar House pub features an almanac picture, sent from Findlater’s grocery store, showing a master of the hunt being served a stirrup cup. 558.10: “our friend behind the bars:” behind bars (e.g. Wilde), behind the bar (e.g. the publican) 558.10-11: “summing him up to be done:” Echo of “thy will be done” 558.11: “be what will:” a future-tense version of “be that as it may” 558.12: “Sully:” the Sullivans – the customers: compare 142.26. “Sully,” apparently an amalgamation, is hard to pin down, but always or almost always a rough customer: ALP will call him “a thug” (618.29), and here he is the one who wants to throw the book at the accused. 558.14: “three months:” sentence of three months in jail 558.15: “frothwhiskered:” one of several indications that the male principal has a moustache, sometimes whitened with age, here resembling beer foam sticking to the upper lip, as with the “Merry Mustard Frothblowers” (270.12-3), evidently a fraternity of seniors dedicated to drinking beer: lines .18-9, as McHugh notes, will include the ingredients for brewing beer, also (“honeymeads”) mead, from honey. For the moustache, see 578.3. Joyce did not have such a moustache; his father did. 558.16: “act one, section two:” Wilde was convicted under Section 11 of the Criminal Law Amendment Act of 1885. As McHugh notes, his attorney was (“Clarke” (.20)) Sir Edward Clarke. 558.17-8: “sentence to be carried out tomorrowmorn by Nolans Volans:” in other words, by Who Knows? – in the tradition of the hooded, unidentified executioner; in FW the main example is the beheader of King Charles I, rumored to have been Cornet George Joyce. 558.18: “Nolans Volans:” by analogy with legal plea of “Nolo Contendere,” I do not dispute. 558.18: “six o’clock shark:” British hangings were legally specified to occur at dawn or shortly before. (FW, I believe, is set at March 21-2, when sunrise would be at or about 6:00 a.m.) 558.18-20: “and may the yeastwind and the hoppinghail malt mercy on his seven honeymeads and his hurlyburlygrowth, Amen, says the Clarke:” McHugh notes that this includes the judge’s sentence of death (“May the Lord have mercy on your soul”) – also, I’d add, some (to say the least, ironic) version of the touristy “Irish prayer,” in which “the wind” is to be “always at your back.” The proliferation of references to beer and beer-drinking is probably part of the act. 558.19: “seven honeymeads:” seven is HCE’s number. 558.19: “the hoppinghail malt mercy:” hail, falling on pavement, hops. Then it melts. 558.22: “darters:” compare similar account of girls (daughters) as “darting,” etc. (524.23). In both cases, would seem an apt description of the up-swimming up-jumping salmon at Leixlip, Danish for “Salmon Leap” and the place on the Liffey supposed to be as far as salmon can swim upstream. 558.23: “ripping time:” fashionable slang (British, but not, I think, American) for a boisterously successful social event. Google Books indicates that its heyday was early 20th century and that it was typically the language of the young. Similar words in the passage includes “topping” (.23) and, possibly, “natty” (.21). 558.23: “gleeful cries:” compare II.4’s orgasmic “queeleetlecrie of joysis crisis” (395.32-3). 558.23-5: “what is nice toppingshaun made of made for:” Shaun is “topping” – another bit of fashionable slang. The word is applied to him twice in his earlier flirtation with the girls (405.21, 444.7, the second time ironically), which this passage recalls. The girls’ group “revery’s” recollection of their idol has its naughty erotic component: not just “What are little boys made of?” but a giggly “What are they made for?” - a gender-reversed version of Stephen’s (less facetious) “Proteus” comment on women: “What else were they made for?” Their gleeful weeping at his absence (continuing their feelings at his departure, at the end of III.2) is of the “Parting is such sweet sorrow” variety and shows an early-adolescent capacity for romantic dramatics. 558.24-5: “for they were never happier, huhu, than when they were miserable, haha:” compare 142.30-143.2, for instance “they laugh weeping…they smile hating.” A variant on Giordano Bruno’s motto, “tristitia hilaris hilaritate tristis.” 558.26-31: “in their…dyke…” In sharp contrast with the preceding, a married couple in late middle age is about to attempt intercourse, and environment and circumstances constantly remind them of how things have changed since their first raptures, years ago. (Compare Bloom in “Lestrygonians:” “Me. And me now.” According to Ellmann’s biography, Nora’s assessment of fifty-ish marital sex, as conveyed to her sister, was “I hate it, Kathleen.”) The procedure itself will be a “trial,” a test; “memory” of their passionate past, down now to a “glimmer,” is still all that’s left of the desire propelling them (as the memory of her first romance with Mulvey helped propel Molly’s “yes” to Bloom); they continue to conceal their bodies under “coverlets of cowardice” because nakedness would be more discouraging than otherwise; his (former?) “mace of might” is “mortified,” and although the “beautifell hung up on a nail” is probably of a piece with the next page’s “Woman’s gown on ditto” [nail], a beautiful “fell of hair” (according to OED, common expression for a head of hair) would recall the younger ALP’s erstwhile most alluring feature. (In any case, she is now wearing “curlpins” (559.20), by theatrical/cinematic convention an invariable signal of homely, de-glamorized femaleness; possibly the “fell” was worn to cover it during the day.) Throughout FW, ALP’s hair is sometimes straight, sometimes wavy, sometimes marcelled, sometimes bewigged, sometimes curled; this item suggests that any curling was artificially induced: compare 578.29 and note. 558.26: “bed of trial:” place of ordeal – sometimes a deathbed or (very) sickbed 558.26: “on the bolster of hardship:” a bolster is typically stiffer than the pillows it is supposed to support. (Hence “bolster” as verb) 558.26-7: “by the glimmer of memory:” given the practice, common from 558.26 to 559.17 and beyond, of turning household objects into portentous signs and symbols, I suggest that this refers to the “Lighted lamp” of 559.14. Later, the “modest Miss Glimglow” of 585.5 is almost certainly this same lamp. 558.27-8: “Albutrus Nyanzer with Victa Nyanza:” besides, as noted by McHugh, the two reservoirs of the Nile, the royal couple, prolific paragons of domesticity, Prince Albert and Queen Victoria, in bed together. Also, as identified by Brendan O Hehir, a Gaelic “formula for answering riddles.” 558.27: “Albatrus:” as albatross (McHugh notes the echo), an unescapable burden or curse, in context something like (referring to spouse) “the old ball and chain.” (Compare 137.22-3.) Perhaps also overtone of “albutrus,” a decorative flower (131.10, 131.20). 558.29: “Mr of our fathers:” McHugh and Oxford editors both change “Mr” to “Ur,” ancient Mesopotamian site of the ziggurat, being excavated during the FW years. Would go with HCE’s “monumentalness” (547.7-8) 558.29-30: “moddereen ru arue rue:” refrain from a children’s song. ALP, the (“modder-“) is singing it or remembering singing it to her children. 558.30: “hodypoker and blazier:” Oxford editors replace with “hodypoker and brazier,” the latter, in either spelling, a receptable for burning (blazing: compare 411.31-2) coals, here pretty clearly the female counterpart to phallic “-poker.” 558.32: “A cry off:” abbreviated form of the stage direction “A cry offstage.” (A cry off” by itself is rare.) Also, “to cry off” is to cancel or postpone some plan or event – here, the incipient love-making, interrupted by the offstage noise. 558.35: “cedarbalm of mead:” perhaps obvious, but “cedar balm” is made from cedar leaves and twigs; it is aromatic and sometimes used medicinally. 558.36: “Stagemanager’s prompt:” the stage manager’s prompt book, with the play’s script 558.36-559.1: “dwelling on outskirts of city:” the Mullingar house, in Chapelizod, is on the outskirts of Dublin. 559.1: “Groove two:” a “groove” or “slide” is one in a succession of supports for stage “wings” and “flats;” moving from groove one to “Groove two” changes the stage setting. 559.1-2: “Ordinary bedroom set:” then as now, a retailer’s term for bedroom furniture – bed, bureau, lamp table, etc. Also, a stage set 559.2: “Back:” backstage: the fireplace is positioned in the wall farthest back from the audience. (Some built-in terminological confusion here, congenial to FW’s play of equal opposites. “Backstage” can mean both the point farthest from the audience – in fact, behind the stage set – or the closest to the audience. Likewise, “upstage” as noun means at the back of the stage set; as a verb it means to eclipse the other actor’s performance by, in mid-dialogue, moving back (thus, upstage), forcing the other party to turn away from the audience. (Also, later: “stage right” means, from the audience’s point of view, the left of the stage.) That this FW sequence keeps making 90º shifts in perspective, of course, will compound the doubleness, but for now it seems reasonably clear the fireplace is the farthest-away of this “box scene’s” (.1 – see McHugh) props. 559.2: “Irish grate:” browsing the internet confirms that there was such a thing as an Irish grate, distinct from other kinds. Tentatively: it may have been a coal grate, smaller and more compact than a grate intended for holding wood. 559.3: “mantel, with wilting elopement fan.” Joyce and Nora eloped – hence the earlier play on Gretna Green and “elope” in “Grettna Greaney and [my underlining] Penelope Inglesante” (212.11). Evidently this couple has kept some token of a similar/identical event on its mantel – their equivalent of the traditional “bridal fan” – which, unsurprisingly, has wilted over the years. Compare 199.36. 559.3: “soot and tinsel, condemned:” a “condemned” fireplace would be one declared unsafe for fires; nonetheless “tinsel” – French etincelles, sparks – indicates either that a fire has recently been burning there or that the stage equivalent uses actual tinsel to give that impression. Bedroom fireplace fires typically lasted until around dawn; it was the job of the servants to start them, bank them, and keep them going; whether they were to be kept burning after wake-up depended on the plans for the day. In this case, we will later learn that the manservant is up at dawn to “litanate the bonnamours” (593.8). 559.5: “Pelmit above:” OED: “pelmet:” “A narrow border of cloth or wood, fitted across the top of a door or window to conceal curtain fittings” – here, above the room’s window, which however has “No curtains” but a drawn blind. (The spelling may possibly suggest that it also includes an official permit – to operate Mullingar House – although normally that would be displayed in a public room.) Also, as McHugh notes, a stage property 559.5: “South, party wall:” a wall shared with an adjoining building. Theatrically, a stage prop representing a wall between two adjoining rooms 559.6: “strawberry bedspread.” Presumably describes its color. This and salmon-colored wallpaper (.2) may result from first light of rosy-fingered dawn, coming through the window opposite. 559.7: “Bookshrine without:” “bookshrine:” ornamental binding for precious or sacred book. (Suggest “without” means “without book;” most likely, this is simply an empty bookcase.) Traditionally Irish; the Book of Kells originally had one. 559.9: “crossbelt:” OED: “cross-belt:” “originally a belt worn over both shoulders, and crossing in front of the breast; also, in later use, a single belt passing obliquely across the breast.” In 19th and 20th centuries, the term is usually military (as in a cartridge belt) or medical (for supporting splints for injured arm or shoulder.) Also, see next entry. 559.9: “braces:” American equivalent would be “suspenders.” (FW includes several of the former and at least one (211.7) of the latter, sometimes apparently (e.g. 21.32) as one of HCE’s seven articles of clothing.) Perhaps “crossbelt” because some braces criss-cross behind the back. 559.9: “collar on bedknob:” a detachable collar, hung on the bedknob 559.9-10: “corduroy surcoat with tabrets and taces:” for “tabrets,” McHugh has “timbrel, small stool.” To your annotator, this seems unlikely for the context. Instead, I propose the following. “Tabrets” = “tabours”/“tabors” – small drums. In “Lotus-Eaters,” Bloom notices the “braided drums” on a lady’s gloves. Don Gifford glosses these as “the ridges of cord on the back of the woman’s glove.” (Gaelic druim: back or ridge.) Corduroy is distinguished by such ridges. (At 404.17-8, Shaun, outdoors, wears “a mac Frieze o’coat of far suparior ruggedness, indigo braw, tracked and tramped.”) As for “taces,” at least an overtone of French taches, stains or spots – something to be expected on a surcoat. (Compare “tache of tch” (111.20), with “tache” as both tea cup and tea stain.) 559.10: “seapan nacre buttons on nail:” Oxford editors have “seapen.” A sea-pen is a slug-like marine animal. Also known as a “nacre,” it secretes a phosphorescent mother-of-pearl – in other words, the same material from which pearls, therefore pearl buttons, are made. Collar buttons were often ornamental. An 1896 American Treasury Department ruling declared that “pearl collar buttons” “are composed respectively of pearl or shell backs and gold plated metal heads and posts and shell or pearl heads and backs and metal posts.” Here they are part of the “surcoat” hung up on a nail. 559.11-2: “mantelpiece picture of Michael, lance, slaying Satan, dragon with smoke:” presumably smoke because the dragon is of the fire-breathing variety. In an English establishment, the dragon-slayer would more likely be Saint George. Saint Michael figures prominently in Irish Catholic iconography, and “Michael,” along with “Patrick,” is a typical/stereotypical Irish man’s name. Your annotator believes that this picture has sometimes influenced the FW dreamer’s dream, for instance in the sequence beginning at 223.19. 559.12: “Small table near bed, front:” that is – assuming it’s not at the bed’s foot – situated between the bed and the audience/watchers. 559.13: “Spare:” best guess: spare blanket. (A familiar expression, then and now.) See note for “Yverdown design” (.13). 559.13: “Flagpatch quilt:” obvious echo of “patchwork quilt.” A flagpatch is a miniature flag worn on a uniform or other clothing. Without specifying the dates, Google Images has several entries under “flagpatch quilt,” all of them incorporating the flag of the native country but no others. (Addendum: that was the case when I first wrote this; now, a few years later, Google Images has many more pictures, some of them of quilts with the flags of multiple countries. Again, because quilts can be heirlooms, these may have been around in FW and pre-FW days.) Compare 556.16 and note. 559.13: “Yverdown design:” an eiderdown quilt would be in order for cold weather. (279.2: “Strangely cult for this ceasing of the yore.” HCE is presumably sleeping in two pairs of socks (578.8) for the same reason.) 559.14: “Lighted lamp without globe:” 1. Considering all the small-scale items which come into view at this point, it seems a fair inference that the bedside lamp has just been switched on, immediately following the stage direction “Limes” (.13) – meaning, turn on or turn up the limelight. (Compare “Circe:” “More limelight, Charley.”) Probably the wife’s reaction to the “cry off.” 2. With no globe to soften the lighting effects, the result is harsh, especially at the outset. (Similar changes occur in “Circe,” where the brothel’s gaslight is erratic, at one point has its “chimney” damaged, and in some stages can make the residents look very unattractive for sure. See .21 and .27 and notes.) 559.14-5: “quantity of water:” unpleasantly, this could be either/both in the “tumbler” (.14) or “julepot” (.15); see next entry. (For obvious reasons, chamberpots were, when possible, used for urination only (compare the “pisspots” of “Circe”); except in emergencies, defecation was reserved for the outhouse. In Ulysses, Bloom defecates in the backyard privy; Molly urinates in the bedroom chamberpot.) 559.15: “julepot:” Randolph Splitter has observed that jules is French argot for “chamberpot.” 559.15-6: “man’s gummy article, pink:” unclear to me why this couple should be using a condom – the usual reading here. (Or, actually, whether that’s really what it is. See second note to 583.29, below.) There would seem to be no call for one, since the woman in question is apparently post-menopausal (although, maybe, just: Clive Hart suggests that the “lmp” of 427.15 stands for ALP’s “last menstrual period” – late, but plausible, for her presumed age of (Roman numeral LIV) 54), and venereal disease between two long-married people in late middle age is unlikely to be an issue. In any case, f that is what it is, it is another mark against the husband: he is a Protestant, and, as “Circe” puts it, “employs a mechanical device to frustrate the sacred ends of nature.” One of Hosty’s charges against HCE is that he peddles “contraceptives” (45.14). During Joyce’s lifetime, contraceptives were illegal in Ireland; like Bloom, he has probably received his by mail from England. Your annotator continues to speculate that the “gummy article” in question is a set of false teeth. 559.19: “Closeup:” after “Groove two” (.1), a second step inward, doubling concentration on the principals. Although common in photography, cinema, and television, it does not seem to have been a theatrical direction. 559.20: “fore…hind:” that is, the man is, relatively, downstage, between her and the audience. 559.21: “Discovered:” as in, suddenly found out or, simply, discerned, because of the light’s being turned on or up. 559.21: “Side point of view:” Bed’s head against south-east wall (or “flat”), its left side to the audience/viewers in the south-west, the couple – again, with the man to the fore, to the left of the wife – being witnessed lying lengthwise: a “side” view. 559.21: “First position of harmony:” first of this chapter’s four “position”s – a phrase from music theory, sometimes given philosophical applications, especially by Plotinus. The others are “second position of discordance” (564.2), “Third position of concord!” (582.29-.30), and “Fourth position of solution” (590.22-3). 559.22: “Eh? Ha! Check action:” “Check” as in interrupt; again, the “the cry off” (compare “Noises off”) of 558.32. Also, because of an off-stage disturbance, the performers are freezing in mid-motion. (I once witnessed Mark Rylance, as Hamlet, signal such a halt in the action when a man standing in the Globe Theatre audience fainted; the performance resumed when he had been attended to.) Here, the action starts up again with “Play! [new paragraph] Callboy.. Cry off. Tabler. Her move.” [New paragraph] Footage” (.29-32), with the second “Cry off,” probably from the “Callboy” (see McHugh), canceling the first. 559.23: “looking round:” perhaps in double sense: the male principal is typically described as being rotund. Also, combined with next entry, squaring the circle 559.23-4: “paralleliped homoplatts:” in other words (see McHugh), he’s square-shouldered. Probably includes a glance at HCE’s siglum: a capital E, seen with its two right-angle corners uppermost. 559.23-4: “beastly expression…exhibits rage:” because interrupted when sexually engaged 559.24: “fishy eyes:” resembling Joyce’s in some pictures of him during his eye ailments, also Professor McHugh’s in “Aeolus,” with the “witless shellfish” under his glasses. Joyce was (“presbyoperian” (294.1) presbyopic (far-sighted), and glasses worn by the far-sighted have the effect of magnifying their eyes. (This assumes that, startled, he has put on his glasses in order to (“looking round” (.23)) look around, also that, like Shem (who according to 423.21 started wearing glasses at the age of seven) and Joyce himself he normally wears glasses. The “black patch” of .25 indicates that, like both, he sometimes wears an eyepatch, so he definitely has less than ideal vision. ) 559.24: “ghazometron pondus:” incorporates “gazebo;” compare “gazebocroticon” (614.27). Also, the first Google Books hit for “gazillion,” in the sense of an incomprehensibly huge amount of something, is 1919. (OED’s terminus a quo is off by almost sixty years.) In other words, probably hyperbolically, he’s (“gross built” (.25)) very very heavy, if only by comparison with memories of his younger, slimmer, self. Again, that “lamp without globe” lighting (.14) is anything but flattering. 559.24: “Business:” compare 127.20-3, with definition from A Short Glossary of Theatrical Terms, given by McHugh: “All movements & actions used by actors in playing a scene, such as opening & reading letters, eating or preparing meals, fights, smoking, etc.” Definitely fits context here – a theatrical set, introducing action (interrupted sex) in media res. 559.25: “Armenian bole:” reddish brown in color. Confirms other testimony (for instance the preceding “Ruddy blond” (.24-5)), about HCE’s florid face. 559.25: “black patch:” for a while, including some of the FW years, Joyce wore a black patch over his left eye. Compare 182.33-4: “a blind of black sailcloth over its wan phwinshogue,” with “phwinshogue” combining the slangy “phiz” for face, the Anglo-Irish kithogue for left-handed, and the Gaelic fuinneóg for window. 559.25: “beer wig:” as McHugh notes, a bar wig – a wig worn in English courts (therefore, before the bar) – by judges and barristers. Highly unlikely that HCE wears one, whether in bed or out, but bar wigs are white and so, by this stage in his life, is his hair, like (see 558.15) his moustache. (Presumably he has removed his “nightcap” (.20).) Compare his “hayamatt peruke” on the next page (560.25). 559.26-7: “Woman, sitting, looks at ceiling…exhibits fear:” because the cry has come from upstairs: compare 561.1-2: “Here are two rooms on the upstairs,” one with Issy and one with the twins. She fears that something has happened to one of the children in the upstairs bedrooms. 559.26-7: “haggish expression:” again, the lighting effects are not flattering. 559.27: “trekant mouth:” as McHugh notes, “trekant” is Danish for triangle. As at pages 196 and 293, corresponds to ALP’s delta siglum. 559.28: “Nubian shine:” “shine” was an (insulting) term for African-Americans; here paired with (presumably dark-skinned) “Nubian.” There are other passages where ALP, like Issy with Marge, has a dark double: see especially 537.22-538.17. (Also, compare 141.26-7, where Kate, to some degree an older ALP, is introduced as “Dinah” – traditional name for African-American women, paired with “Pore [Poor] old Joe,” traditional epithet for African-American men.) As suggested elsewhere in these annotations, such racially-conditioned contrasts often have to do with the play introduced in I.2 and intermittently present thereafter, A Royal Divorce, about Napoleon’s divorce of Josephine and marriage to the Austrian Marie Louise. Although the play itself makes no mention of the fact, Josephine, born on Martinique, was a Creole, very much in contrast with her royal-blooded successor. As for ALP’s “Nubian shine” at this juncture, the darkness is partial (another part of her has a (“Welshrabbit teint” (.28) pale-yellow tint), and temporary - in this case, I suggest, mainly as the result of lighting and optics. The bedroom lamp (.14) was, initially, on the husband’s side of the bed – she is about to grab it for her trip upstairs, leaving him (“Blackout” (560.2)) in the dark – where it was lighting up other bedside articles (e.g. “gazette,” “ticker” (.14, .15)) belonging to him, so that the suddenly sitting-up “Male partly masking female” (.22-3), by blocking the light, would be momentarily putting her person, or part of it, in shadow. In the ensuing sequence, with the room’s one lamp now in her hand, her complexion will change again, from (.28) “Pocahontas” (presumably reddish-skinned) to white-shouldered (.33) to (“sallowlass” (.34)) sallow; in her brief emergence as “Fiammelle la Diva” (560.1-2) she, like a diva in the spotlight, is the one being lit up by the lamp’s flame, and, for a short spell, the only one. 559.31: “Footage:” she has “hopped” (.34) out of bed and started running “By the sinewy forequarters” (.32), feet and (“largelimbs” (.36) legs included. (Also, as McHugh notes, movie film footage – the action is shifting from theatrical to cinematic. In either case, we are seeing this from a fixed point of perspective: first her feet coming out of bed, then her ”forequarters” legs in motion, compared to that of a racehorse (Pocahontas: see McHugh) in the stretch, then, lit up by lamp, “white shoulders,” identifying her as “Finnuala” of the white shoulders. 559.34: “that smart sallowlass just hopped a nanny’s gambit:” out of bed and out of his shadow, with lamp in hand, she has gone from “Nubian shine” (.28) to sallow, then lit up enough (see next entry) to qualify as the white side in a game of chess, making the first move, the Queen’s Gambit: P-Q4. (Compare 377.14 and note.) The Queen’s Gambit frees up the queen’s diagonal on the left side, giving the piece more freedom of maneuver than the more common P-K4 opening. Followed by “His move. Blackout” (560.2) – she, of the “white shoulders” (559.33) with the first move, is white, and he is black. (She has taken the room’s one light source with her.) 559.34…36: “nanny’s…billy’s:” as in goat, leaping 559.34-560.6: “gambit…sixtyfour…knightlamp…queen’s lead…His move…Two pieces:” Checkers/chess dimension here is accounted for by the fact that the staircase, which the woman is traversing after having run out of the bedroom, is inlaid with a “chequered” pattern (560.9; see also 559.35). The spotlight follows her because she is the one holding the lamp. See next two entries. (The chess motif will dominate throughout, but checkers, backgammon, and whist will also come, if only associatively, into play.) With a party wall and bed stage left, a fireplace upstage, and a window stage right, the likeliest route for her exit is downstage, with the “box scene” bedroom “door” and entrance to landing coming into view as the former scene, with the lamp removed, is eclipsed with a “Blackout” (558.2). For her route downstage onto and across the landing and up the steps to the children’s rooms, compare the progress of Kate, through “doer” (333.1) and along “danzing corridor” (333.8), “upstored” (333.11-2), of 333.1-334.5. (Note: although the language largely continues to be that of stage directions, some of these effects would be all but impossible without a cinematic extension. Compare, for instance, the Hollywood musicals of Joyce’s contemporary Busby Berkeley, whose set pieces typically begin as filmed stagings but soon turn into cinematically extravagant spectacles. “Circe” often does the same.) 559.35: “Mesopotomac:” running, she reminds us that, as redundantly emphasized in I.8, she is named for a (“riverrun”) running river – for instance the Potomac, or the Tigris and Euphrates synonymous with Mesopotamia. 559.36: “knightlamp with her:” she’s carrying the room’s nightlight. Also, a knight’s move is the only one that the queen cannot make. The two pieces acting in tandem can be a very powerful combination – what is called a “super queen” in some versions of chess. 560.2: “His move. Blackout:” because she has taken the “knightlamp” – night lamp - with her (559.36), the bedroom – with the husband remaining in it – is relatively lightless. 560.3: “Circus. Corridor:” the circle of light – in the next line, the “spotlight” - from her lamp, running along the wall as she runs. The original meaning of “corridor” is “running-place.” 560.4-6: “Wall flats: sink and fly. Spotlight working wall cloths. Spill playing rake and bridges. Room to sink: stairs to sink behind room:” perhaps obvious: movement of light and camera produce the effect of the previous set sinking behind and beneath her as she goes upstairs. In cinema, a “tracking shot:” contemporary examples included 1931 Svengali with John Barrymore, Leni Riefenstahl’s 1936 Olympia, and, somewhat later, Hitchcock’s 1946 Notorious. 560.4-5: “Spotlight working wall cloths. Still spill playing:” again, optical effects produced by woman carrying lamp through darkened area. It will return (see note to .14) as a stage Tinkerbell. 560.6: “Two pieces. Haying after queue:” ” at 33.10, along with chess and checkers (see 559.34-6 and note), the “piece,” French for a theatrical “play,” was one of two simultaneously ongoing dramatic performances – the wife in one setting, the husband in the other. (See 570.26ff: for some of the following we will be attending to both of the “pieces” – the action upstairs and the parental bedroom, each emphasized in turn according to stage lighting or cinematic back-and-forth.) Also: by way of the Oxford editors’ recommended change of “Haying” to “Kaying,” the king and (“queue:” Q) queen, two chess pieces. Also, with the wife’s departure, the husband, left “after,” “looks…incomplete” (.7), that is, forlorn at suddenly being deprived of his bed partner and, until interrupted, sex partner. “Incomplete” may recall the word’s double-meaning occurrence in Ulysses: “What is a home without Plumtree’s Potted Meat? Incomplete.” Compare next entry. 560.7-8: “On its dead:” HCE, left alone in his bed 560.8: “fine head of porter:” frothy “head” on a glass of porter; head of the Porter family; possibly semen, undischarged 560.9: “quicktime:” direction for music, dance, or march: move more quickly. Compare entry for .10-12. 560.9: “The castle arkwright:” an ark-wright would be the builder of an ark, Noah’s. Here, the ark is the Mullingar House, with an addition being built – a third floor with two rooms, and the staircase from the second floor, with what according to records was four rooms. (At .20, Porter is a “builder.”) Glasheen lists a possible allusion to Sir Richard Arkwright, inventor and hard-driving mover and shaker of England’s Industrial Revolution. 560.10: “one square step, to be steady:” “Square step” is a carpentry term used in directions for making stairways. See next entry. 560.10-12: “yet notwithstumbling are they stalemating backgammoner supstairs by skips and trestles tiltop double corner:” nonetheless “they” – inhabitants, mainly children - enjoy running and skipping up and down the stairs. Also, “square step” (see previous entry) seems to have prompted the language of square dancing, also encouraged by the “inlaid” checkerboard/chessboard squares. 560.11: “stalemating backgammoner:” a stalemate is not technically possible in backgammon; it is in chess. 560.12: “game:” signaling end of game and, usually, victory 560.13-4: “ideal residence for realtar:” as McHugh glosses, a real tar – that is, a genuine sailor. Complicated, since, as in II.3, FW sailors are here-today-gone-tomorrow sorts , and, at least intermittently, a menaces to domesticity. (Interplay with “realtor” (presumably, at least relatively, a sedate land-dweller), in the language of a real-estate ad, constitutes an FW coincidence-of-contraries.) 560.13-4: “By hims ingang tilt tinkt a tunning bell:” I suggest that this is the sound of a shopbell, rather than a doorbell. (Bloom’s barber’s “shopbell” is remembered in “Calypso;” it rings when a customer opens the door.) Its sound explains why there is suddenly so much talk of shopping (.16-7), why an employee (Sackerson, almost certainly – here as “Chump”) is ordered to rouse himself (.16-7). Again, see 78.12-3 and note, also the next entry: the Mullingar Inn would have included a general store. 560.14: “tinkt a tunning bell:” in the 1904 theatrical production of J. M. Barrie’s Peter Pan, Tinker Bell was (Wikipedia) “a little circle of light” and the sound of “a collar of bells.” 560.14-5: “tunning bell that Limen Mr., that Boggey Godde,…Lingling, lingling:” as at 213.19-20, the annual burning of Zurich’s Bogge/Böögge is accompanied by the ringing of church bells. Perhaps “Limen” because it takes place on the border between winter and spring, between day and night. 560.15: “be airwaked:” once again, the proprietor being named Earwicker. (Still, at .22 the family name of Porter will be reaffirmed.) 560.15: “maggies in all:” see .13-4 and note, next entry: as McHugh notes, this incorporates French magasin: shop. Again, the Mullingar House has one: see next entry. 560.17: “O ado please shop!:” see 67.17-8 and note. 560.17: “How hominous his house, haunt it?:” How homey is his house, isn’t/ain’t it? Edgar Guest: “It takes a heap o’ livin’ in a house t’make it home.” Overtones of ominous haunted house: a heap o’livin’ can, equally-oppositely, also make a home into a pretty creepy place – just ask the brides of Bluebeard, who will show up at .20. 560.18: “Nogen, of imperial measure, is begraved beneadher:” according to some traditions, the burial of a body beneath a house would account for its being (“haunt it” (.17)), haunted. This sequence will end with a prayer of thanks for “them whom we have fordone” (.20-1) – those who have gone before, but also perhaps those we have done in. Compare, for instance, “on the bunk of our breadwinning lies the cropse of our seedfather” (55.7-8). 560.18: “imperial measure” non-metric system of measurement once predominant in Britain and its dominions 560.24: “all fourlike tellt:” a point for those (like me) who believe that FW’s family is significantly based on the Joyce family of four, and that we are at a point in the book where such things are becoming clearer. 560.25: “astern:” a change of position from 559.20, when he was presented as “fore” 560.28: “A so united family pateramater is not more existing on papel or off it:” The slogan, “The family that prays together stays together” was current during FW’s composition. “Pateramater” echoes, besides “Pater” and “Mater” (fashionable terms for parents in upper-class families (.32-3: “you can tell that they come from a rarely old family”)), “paternoster.” Compare 161.22-31. “Papel:” paper, perhaps as writing sanctioned, papally, by the pope. Despite the puzzling “free kirk” of 559.29, ALP is otherwise consistently a “papishee” (62.9) papist (Catholic), married to a Church of England “episcopalian” (559.26). The Catholic Church of the time would have discouraged such marriages (compare Tom Kernan in Dubliners in Ulysses, who has grudgingly converted to his wife’s religion) and demanded that the children be raised Catholic – as, apparently, have Issy and at least one of the twins. 560.29: “Here are his naggins poured, his alladim lamps:” interior of the pub, where drinks (naggin:” a quarter of a pint) are poured and the lights are dim 560.29-30: “As keymaster fits the lock it wed:” the husband has the key to her chastity belt. 560.30: “streamline:” streamlined – ALP’s figure, perhaps (“As keymaster fits the lock it wed” (.29-30)) a younger version, on the day of the couple’s (“lock it weds”) wedlock. Also, her identification with rivers and “stream”s – e.g. 332.33 560.31-2: “Porto da Brozzo!:” ? Brozzo, Italy, is landlocked; it has no port. 560.32-3: “You can ken that they come of a rarely old family by their costumance:” again: that they are a distinguished (rare, really old) family is evidenced by their costumes and customs. 560.34: “tonearts:” besides German tonearts, musical key, Scandinavian for moods 560.35-6: “Only snakkest me truesome! I stone us I’m hable:” given (“true-“) tree-stone pairing, this may be a bit of memory of the washerwomen, who turn into tree and stone at the end of I.8, and who can’t get enough gossipy chatter about the FW “family” (.33), ALP especially. “Snakkest” and “hable,” as McHugh notes, come from Danish for “chatter” and Spanish for “speak.” Possible overtone of “Cain” in “stone” 561.1-2: “Still…knifekanter:” the voice leaves off the account of the family in general and returns to the mother, climbing the stairs. 561.2-3: “at forkflank and knifekanter:” chess talk continues: a knight “forks” when it attacks two pieces at once. Also, chess-piece knights are horses, which canter. 561.4: “The coeds, boytom thwackers and timbuy teaser:” the FW twins frequently swap “Tom” and “Tim” as names. “Coed” was and is a popular term for a student at a coeducational school; in practice at the time it always or almost always designated a female. “Teaser,” in the flirtation sense, verifies contemporary apprehensions about goings-on in coeducational schools, (“timbuy”) tomboy, apprehensions that the girls will have their femininity compromised. The pre-puberty interchangeability of gender – e.g. teasing as both tormenting and flirting – is continued at .5-6: “This one once upon awhile was the other” etc. Also, speaking of tormentors, (“boytom”) bottom-thwacker, here thwacking the bottom of a boy named Tom, would be an educational disciplinarian like Thwacker in Fielding’s Tom Jones. 561.4-5: “Here is one thing you owed two know:” the twins are really or alternately one child, which would make – compare note to 560.24 - the FW family of five a Joyce family of four. 561.6: “Ah so?:” trademark expression of movie detective Charlie Chan on finding new evidence, came into general use, usually ironic, for discovering something previously undisclosed. Current during writing of FW 561.10: “pussy:” not necessarily applicable here, but “pussy” definitely had its naughty meaning in Joyce’s time. 561.11: “you will hear it passim in all the novelette and her name is Buttercup:” as best I can tell, Issy addresses her cat by this name twice, at 145.9-13 (“buttercups”), and 562.5 (“beautycapes”). Otherwise, the word occurs, in some recognizable form, perhaps five or six times. 561.11-2: “she is named Buttercup:” in H. M. S. Pinafore, Buttercup admits that because of her the two opposed young men, aristocrat and commoner, were switched at birth. This seems to be what (“you owed two noe” (.5)) ought to know about the twins. 561.13: “missyname to forsake:” a bride traditionally forsakes her miss-name when adopting her husband’s. Also, Issy-name. Also, possibly: though very rare (and not in the OED) a “misonym” is a name or pseudonym wrongly given. In this case it would be “Buttercup” (.12), a mistake because butter is “sweet” (.12) and this cup is “filled of bitterness” (.15). 561.14-5: “a gracecup fulled of bitterness:” Matthew 26:39: “O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me.” The cup in this case is held by Issy, equal-oppositely “sweet” (10) – hence, bittersweet, probably in allusion to the almanac picture’s Stirrup Cup scene. (See entry for 13.6-8.) 561.15: “bitterness:” also (see note to .13) butter 561.15: “dadad’s lottiest daughterpearl:” not only did Lot impregnate his daughters; he offered them up to be raped by Sodom’s sodomites. 561.15-6: “lottiest…cissiest:” loveliest, prettiest. Possible allusion to the Lottie Collins who in Portrait “lost her drawers” – a risqué music hall performer whose signature number was a high-kicking “Ta-Ra-Ra-Boom-De-Ay.” 561.15: “daughterpearl:” counterpart to “Mothrapurl,” mother of pearl (443.34). In an early letter to Nora, Joyce compared her to an opal, replacing his former female ideal, a pearl. Compare .16-7 and note. 561.16: “brooder’s cissiest auntybride:” with elision of “’s-cissiest,” Issy, her brother’s sister. 561.16: “auntybride:” evidently an allusion to the Aunt Julia Bride, who appears at 461.2. 561.16-7: “Her shellback thimblecasket mirror only can show her dearest friendeen:” sounds like a lady’s cosmetic compact, resembling an opened oyster, with mirror, in which she can behold the looking-glass “Mothrapurl” pearl of her reflection, her little “friendeen.” 561.17: “friendeen:” “ein” suffix means small and/or beloved; seems appropriate for a figure viewed in a “thimblecasket” (.16) mirror. Also, I suggest an overtone of French trentaine, thirty: Issy and her leap-year girls total twenty-nine, with the looking-glass Marge making thirty in all. (Again: on March 21, 1938, Lucia Joyce was thirty years old.) See .34 and note. 561.19: “Saindua:” Basque for saint of the grotto 561.19: “lillias…arrosas!:” lily, rose 561.20-21: “Here’s newyearspray, the posquiflor, a windaborne and heliotrope, there miriamsweet and amaranth and marygold to crown:” in addition to Ophelia – pointed out by McHugh – this includes Perdita in A Winter’s Tale, IV.4, beginning “Here’s flowers for you.” Also: as McHugh, again, notes, there are seven items here. According to FW form they ought to correspond to the seven (floral) colors of the rainbow, but this list seems exceptionally problematic. “Amaranth” is both (McHugh) an “imaginary never-fading flower” and the real amaranthus, purple in color, which would duplicate the (approximate) purple of “heliotrope;” marigolds (“marygold”) can be either yellow or orange; “windaborne” is, color- and sound-wise, close to indigo – but windborne? No. And “-spray” of what, exactly? Etcetera, etcetera: for instance there are such things as red marigolds, but then what becomes of orange? Pasqueflower (“posquiflor”) is purple with yellow anthers, but the flower of Pâques, French for Easter, is traditionally the lily, white, or arguably yellow. No blue in the picture that I can find, or, unless you count stems and leaves, green. FW lists frequently include one or more iffy items, but this seems an extreme case. 561.20: “Add lightest knot unto tiptition:” the mother’s light – lamp – is making Issy and her room visible. 561.22: “O Charis! O Charissima!:” compare earlier “Ocarina! Ocarina!” (7.3). “Carina” is Italian for sweetheart. This reads like an intensified version. 561.24-6: “Would one but do apart a lilybit her virginelles and, so to breath, so, to breath, so, therebetween, behold, she had instantt with her handmade as to graps the myth inmid the air:” FW’s most explicit passage on its theme of father-daughter incest, and the one sentence your annotator really wishes Joyce had left out. Probably not accidental that other incests (Lot and daughters, Tristan and Iseult) are in the vicinity. 561.24: “lilybet:” Lilibet: diminutive of “Elizabeth.” (Almost certainly, this was written too early for Joyce to have known that it would be the family name of Queen Elizabeth II.) See next. 561.25: “virginelles:” the virginal was named for Elizabeth, the virgin queen. The two females signaled by “-elles” refer to Issy’s doubleness – herself and her “handmade” (.26). 561.26: “her handmade as to graps the myth inmid the air:” in mid-air. Oxford editors have “hand made:” that was what her had (handmaid’s) hand was made to do. 561.27: “Mother of moth!” given context – the Annunciation – an echo of “Mother of God” 561.27-8: “for ghost sake!:” for God’s sake! 561.29: “as morning fresheth:” dawn breezes – another sign of daybreak 561.29: “happened her:” compare Zoe in “Circe:” “what happened him.” 561.30: “they too what two dare not utter:” her “virginelles” – her two lips 561.31: “Petticoat’s asleep:” one of Issy’s pet names for her cat – here, perhaps, petit chat, to go with the other Frenchifications in the vicinity: “Silver plush” (for (McHugh) “s’il vous plait”), “fleurty,” “chambrette” (.30, 34, .35). 561.31: “draws a face:” expression: to draw a long face. Also, compare Issy at 459.5-6: “when I paint the measles on her [Marge] and mudstuskers to make her a man.” 561.33: “Up, girls, and at him!:” a female version of (see McHugh) Wellington’s order to his troops: girls, get to it with some serious (“fleurty” (.34)) flirting, with “him!” Compare 459.27, where the Up-and-at-em flirting involves unbuttoning his fly. 561.33-4: “To be presented…Of course:” presented at court 561.34: “fleurty winkies:” flirty (compare 139.33) winks or winkings. Winking is conventionally a feature of flirting. Issy is practicing at future courtship rituals. Also, as McHugh notes, forty winks – that is, a catnap. 561.35: “chambrette:” given context, chambermaid 561.36: “Biddles:” McHugh: Tiddles – for the English, a popular cat name. Probably the best-known Tiddles was the 1890’s pet of London’s legal district, the Temple. Accounts of him incline toward baby-talk. 562.1: “playfilly:” “filly” as slang for attractive young woman. Compare 101.16-7, 246.23-4. 562.2: “Marry,:” Elizabethan interjection. Occurs frequently in Shakespeare, once in “Scylla and Charybdis.” 562.3-4: “barytinette:” young female baronet. She will become one when she marries a baronet, but…see second note to .4. 562.3: “wed:” as meaning both “with” and “marry:” see .2 and note, and next entry. 562.4: “gift:” McHugh: Danish for marry. Again, she’s predicting that “Biddles” (.36) will marry into the aristocracy. 562.4: “I much prefer her misnomer in maidenly:” her maiden name – the “Miss” nom. Gist: she’ll marry well, but I prefer her as a miss. 562.4-5: “golden…beautycapes:” this and other occurrences of “Buttercup” show the influence of “I’m Called Little Buttercup,” in HMS Pinafore. Buttercups are yellow – golden-colored. 562.5: “golden lasslike:” Shakespeare: “Golden lads and girls all must, / As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.” Issy is blonde. (Crux: given all the flowers around, as well as the “windaborne” of 561.20, was Joyce aware that, in Shakespeare’s Warwickshire dialect, “chimney-sweepers” are the seedheads of dandelions? At least according a pre-FW Google Books search, probably not.) 562.7: Allaliefest:” echoes “Anna Livia.” Also, compare 556.19: “like some losthappy leaf.” 562.8: “dare we not wish on her our thrice onsk?:” as McHugh notes, onsk is Danish for wish – here, the regulation three wishes of fairy tales. They are the “That…,” That…,” and “that…” of .9-11. 562.9: “chrysming:” chrism is used for both christenings and last rites: equal-opposites. As at 138.25-6, this unorthodox spelling may incorporate chrys (compare the “chryselephantine” of “Circe,” “white and gold elephant” of 564.5) from the Greek for gold. Again (compare next entry), Issy is golden-haired. 562.9-10: “that she spin blue to scarlad till her temple’s veil:” see McHugh. According to 2 Chronicles 3:14, the veil of the temple was of “fine linen,” colored blue, purple, and crimson. The temple itself was gold or gold-covered. 562.11: “blow:” in sense of flower’s blossoming. If the three wishes are granted (see note to .8) she will have more blessings than all the “common” flowers in the garden. 562.12: “blee:” Hebrew: without 562.12: “common…marygales:” the common marigold – known by gardeners to be easy to grow. (According to the speaker, all too easy.) Merry girls: in “Circe,” “jolly girls” are prostitutes. 562.12: “marygales:” merry gales (in wind sense, they “blow” less promisingly than she does.) 562.13: “charming Carry Whambers:” “ch” of “charming” hints that “Whambers could be “Chambers.” See next. 562.13-4: “saucy Susy Maucepan:” “s” of “saucy” hints that “Maucepain” could be “saucepan.” “Marchpane” is an Elizabethan dessert, mentioned in “Scylla and Charybdis.” “Saucy,” a favorite word of Shakespeare’s, can mean impishly flirty. 562.13-5: “charming Carry…Platsch!:” more examples of Issy’s habit of giving “petnames” (560.36) to everything in her vicinity. 562.14: “Patchbox:” as McHugh notes, a box for holding the patches – something for fashionable, or vain, ladies. 562.15: “Platsch! A plikaplak:” more examples of the “Rosepetalletted sounds” coming from Issy’s lips, or so the hearer thinks: at times it is probably just the sound of dripping rainwater, heard by the FW dreamer. 562.17: “doez:” two (dos) sleepers, dozers 562.18: “policeman, O, I see!:” Oh, Issy! Also, given context, probably O.I.C., Officer In Charge – the policeman, Sackerson, typically the one who sees untoward goings-on in the establishment 562.20: “they are living under chairs:” understairs: a room in the cellar. OED has “Situated below stairs; humble.” Oxford editors’ version is “They are? And living under chairs.” 562.21: “two maggots:” Paris’s Les Deux Magots, noted by McHugh, was a popular gathering-place for writers and artists, Joyce included, in the FW years. The name came from a pair of similar but not identical magots, statues, on the premises. 562.23: “Frank Kevin:” both “Kev” (e.g. 303.15) and “Frank” (e.g. 413.30) have been established as names for Shaun, the straight-shooter of the two. 562.24: “farheard:” far-ahead: here as elsewhere, Shaun embodies the future. As forehead, he is the top-half counterpart to Shem’s genitalia, front to Shem’s backside. 562.24: “limb of the Lord:” Google Books has no non-Joyce hits for this phrase. “Limb of Satan,” on the other hand, is common. 562.25: “lifted in blessing:” that is the “limb of the Lord” – lifted as in the priest’s consecration of the host 562.25: “buchel Iosa:” book of Jesus (New Testament)? 562.26: “mou is semiope:” as I try it, anyway, pronouncing “mou” leave the mouth half-open. 562.26-7: “semiope as though he were blowdelling on a bugigle:” that is, he has a bugler’s (or, as the “blissed angel” (.25) Gabriel’s) bugle-blowing embouchure. 562.26-7: “blowdelling on a bugigle:” “Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn.” As at 418.22, the Shaun twin is the blue-eyed one. 562.28: “Very shortly he will smell sweetly:” some saints were said to emit an “odour of sanctity” at their deaths. 562.29: “By gorgeous:” by George. (Joyce’s son was named Giorgio. See .31 and note, 563.32 and note.) 562.30: “quit our ingletears:” given context, perhaps an echo of “vale of tears.” More specifically, the (ingle) hearth made a place of tears by (“ingle-“) England 562.30-1: “spite of undesirable parents:” 1. He will make his fortune in spite of having undesirable parents. 2. In succeeding, he will spite them. “Undesirables” was a blanket term for groups deemed unfit for society – in America, for instance, the Irish. 562.31: “to wend him to Amorica to quest a cashy job:” In May, 1934, Giorgio left for America, hoping to advance his singing career. (Hence “audorable” (.33) – as McHugh notes, includes “audible.”) See next. 562.33: “eunique:” tradition of castrated singers - eunuchs 562.34-5: “somekid like him in the story book, guess I met somewhere somelam:” goats (kid) and sheep (lamb), a frequent FW pairing. Probably, the kid “in the story book” is the “One kid” of the Haggadah, which means “Telling.” Oxford editors and McHugh both have “somelamb.” 562.34: “somelam to whom he will be becoming liker:” see previous entry. The (goat) kid will become a lamb, or lamb-like, or more lamb-like. 563.1: “codliverside:” on the one hand, this types him as the bad boy: cod liver oil was given to children as a punishment. On the other hand, the liver is on the body’s right side – usually, in FW, the side of Shaun/Kevin, etc. – the “right” side. Shaun is “on heartsleeveside” (562.23), the left. More FW coinciding contraries, probably, further complicated by the fact that, according to humoralism, the liver was the organ of “sanguine” types. 563.1-2: "has been crying in his sleep:” so this twin was the source of “A cry off” (558.32). 563.2-5: “making sharpshape his inscissors…A stake in our mead…posthumious tears:” 1. Teething causes babies to cry. (So would cod liver oil.) Again, this is the bad twin, the snake in their midst, and premature teething was supposed to be a bad omen: In Richard III it was prophetic that as a newborn Richard could “gnaw a crust at two hours old.” 2. More bad news: intimations of Dracula – posthumous, post[humus]earth burial, killed with a stake through the heart, but then unearthed from burial - whose teeth, as in Nosferatu, can be incisors as well as canines. See .4 and note. 563.2: “making sharpshape his inscissors:” sharpening cutlery, scissors included, was traditionally a job for gypsies. 563.2: “sharpshape:” given context, probable overtone of “sharpset,” meaning hungry. Occurs in this sense in “Oxen of the Sun” 563.3: “fished out of the muck:” cod liver oil (.1) is made from the liver of a cod. According to Wikipedia, it was “skimmed off” of cod livers “placed in barrels to rot.” 563.4: “his book of craven images:” in “How Stephen Wrote His Vampire Poem” (James Joyce Quarterly XVII, 2, 183-197), Robert Adams Day traces Stephen Dedalus’ “vampire” poem in “Proteus” to a picture in A Book of Images, by W. T. Horton, with an introduction by Yeats. 563.4: “craven images:” second commandment: “Thou shalt not make graven images.” 563.6: “foundingpen as illspent:” given obvious phallic overtone of “foundingpen,” it’s relevant that “spend” was a Victorian-Edwardian term for orgasm. Jerry has either/both wet the bed and/or had a wet dream. 563.6: “illspent:” echo of the common phrase “misspent youth.” Also, compare previous note: semen “spent” in masturbation or erotic dreams is spent wrongly. 563.7: “jem job joy pip poo pat (jot um for a sobrat!) Jerry Jehu:” I suggest that this mimics the jouncing rhythm of a carriage being driven at top speed, by a jehu. 563.7: “Jerry Jehu:” James Joyce 563.7: “sobrat:” sobriquet for a brat 563.9: “sheepfolds:” Jacob, winning out over Esau (“the one loved, the other left” (.10)) was a shepherd. 563.10: “O…Ah:” omega, alpha – a frequent FW pairing, in either order 563.10: “O foetal sleep!:” 1. Sleeping like a foetus – even sleepier than sleeping like a baby. Perhaps this is why his right (foetal) hand was his just-formed “wrought” hand (.9). 2. Jacob and Esau wrestled in the womb, when they were still in the foetal stage. 563.10: “the one loved, the other left:” Again, Jacob and Esau. The right-side one is more loved than the son on the left. This will become clear when Jacob in turn chooses the younger son over the elder by (Genesis 48:14) crossing his arms to stretch out his right hand to Ephraim. 563.11: “leased to the stranger:” compare 213.33: “lost alla stranger” 563.12: “lordbeeron:” beer baron 563.14: “bannars. Are you not somewhat bulgar with your bowels?:” folk-etymological tradition that “buggery” derives from “Bulgaria.” (It does, but not, originally, in a sexual sense.) McHugh (but not Oxford editors) insert “Bleak!” after “bannars.” Would explain the question: he asks, rhetorically, whether the first speaker has been vulgar – ignorant, sloppy – with his vowels, not incidentally while he himself is mixing up his consonants, “b” for “v.” The first speaker has, he thinks, mispronounced “Blake” as “bleak.” (And, of course, talk of bowels and buggery is vulgar to begin with.) Further confusing matters, the first speaker then says “blake” when he probably means pale “black,” as in – an actual variety – pale black ink. 563.16: “steelwhite:” compare “Telemachus:” “the cold steel pen.” Also, “steel white” is a kind of cast iron – silver-colored, according to Google Images. 536.16-7: “blackmail…anemone’s letter:” an anonymous letter, containing incriminating information, for eventual purposes of blackmail. The FW letter would sometimes qualify. “Anemone’s” includes Anna, along with Shem (whose letter included “nameless shamelessness” (182.14)), the letter’s usual source. 563.16-7: “I ha’scint for my sweet an anemone’s letter:” mythically, hyacinth and anemone both grow from the blood of mortals – Hyacinth, Adonis – beloved by gods. Also, a scented letter: both flowers can be perfumes. 563.16-7: “gold of my bridest hair betied:” compare 232.14-5: “And around its scorched cap she has twilled a twine of flame to let the laitiest know she’s marrid.” In this case, the letter is tied up with a strand of her golden hair. As elsewhere in this sequence, female voices are mixed. The older ALP, like Nora, has auburn, as in “auburnt,” as in burnt, as in “scorched” (as in “The Flash that Flies from Vuggy's Eyes has Set Me Hair On Fire” (106.26-7) hair. The younger, bride-age Issy is blonde. According to ALP’s final soliloquy, her first meeting with her husband-to-be was when he saw her on an open-air carriage, ran after her, and courted her with this you-oughta-be-in-pictures line: “pardon him, goldylocks, me having an airth, but he daydreamsed we had a lovelyt face for a pulltomine” (615.23-4) – Pardon me, Goldylocks, my heaven on earth, but I (day)dreamed of seeing your lovely face in a pantomime. 563.18-9: “from the Cat and Cage:” As McHugh notes, a real Dublin pub. In this case, the address of the origin of the letter, from Issy’s room, which has a cat. 563.19: “I see and see!:” Issy 563.20-1: “What Gipsy Devereux vowed to Lylian and why the elm and how the stone:” what’s in the letter – basically, gossip, here of the sort exchanged between the washerwomen of I.8 563.21-3: “You never may know in the preterite all perhaps that you would not believe that you ever even saw to be about to:” with “preterite” in the grammatical sense of (OED) “expressing past action or a past state,” in general an observation that, even in FW, the past is not always prologue. Also, compare next entry: as usual, the gossip is highly judgmental. 563.22: “preterite:” in Calvinism, those who will not receive salvation – opposite of the elect; confirms “fatal slip” (.10) and “unblest” (.13) 563.24: “portereens:” again: your annotator believes that the default family name is Porter. Accordingly, the twins are porter-eens – little Porters. 563.24: “Jerkoff and Eatsup:” Jacob and Esau, in tandem: one jerks off, the other eats it up. Yuck. 563.25: “costarred:” they are co-stars: two actors sharing top billing. (At 534.1 they will be (“Jeminy”) the two stars of the constellation Gemini.) Goes on to say (e.g. see next entry) that they will put on a cross-talk act (one playing an impish sort and the other a sober-sided sort, for instance grasshopper and ant) or even (Romeo and Juliet) a cross-dressing act. (Of course, in its original production, Juliet would have been played by a male.) 563.26: “puck and prig:” with “puck” as in “puckish,” mischievous: opposites 563.26-7: “maryboy at Donnybrook Fair, the godolphinglad in the Hoy’s court:” 1. For “godolphinglad,” see entry for 565.22. Briefly, the name of a horse – actually, the horse. It may be pertinent that “Mirabel” was also the name of a race horse (though not a very prominent one) in the late 19th century. 2. Be that as it may, it seems beyond normal coincidence range that “Mirabel” and “Godolphin” were both fictional names for Count Alfred Guillaume Gabriel D’Orsay (1801-52), friend of Byron (who has just put in an appearance at .12), portrait-painter and sculptor for Wellington, and widely believed to be the handsomest, most stylish, most well-bred man of the age. According to the DNB, “Disraeli sketched him to the life, under the name of Count Mirabel, in his love tale of ‘Henrietta Temple.’ To D’Orsay Lord Lytton inscribed his political romance of ‘Godolphin,’ referring to him as ‘the most accomplished gentleman of our time.’” As a man of fashion, he was of course a member of the horsey set, probably the “horsey dorksey gentryman” of 322.17. (His bust of Wellington is equestrian; a well-known portrait has him on horseback.) Glasheen cites him as the “dorsay” of 405.5.) 563.29-30: “Both barmhearts shall become yeastcake by their brackfest:” bracks made with yeast are called barmbracks. (See next entry.) The bad news: the “blizky little portereens after their bredscrums” (.23-4) were probably, among other things, the breadcrumb-strewing Hansel and Gretel, who barely escape becoming breakfast. 563.30-1: “I will to leave my copperwise blessing between the pair of them:” 1. As at 209.18-212.19, ALP is a giver of (usually Christmas) gifts to her children. 2. As in “Clay,” barmbracks are traditionally used on Halloween for fortune-telling – getting a ring (here, a copper one) predicts marriage within the year. (On the other hand, leaving one ring between two twins may be an incitement to fight over the prospective bride. ALP’s gifts are also foretellings, and not all of them, for instance “a collera morbous for Mann in the Cloack” (211.1) are necessarily good news). 3. According to Google Books (and Wikipedia), the Tooth Fairy story, in turn based on a number of old traditions, dates from around the time (1929) when this passage first appeared in transition. (At .2-4 only one of the twins was in pain from “teething.” So let them fight over that, too.) 4. “Copperwise:” penny-wise 563.31: “Blech and tin soldies:” tin (i.e. toy) soldiers – “nice presents” (.36) for the twins, in a passage where Easter and Christmas (and – see previous – Tooth Fairy) come together in a general spirit of giving gifts to children. See first note to .32., .35-7 and note. This gift is surely for the Shaun twin, bound for the army; compare “Primas was a santryman and drilled all decent people” (14.13). 563.31: “rosengorge:” rising gorge. (From Hamlet’s “Alas, Poor Yorick” speech: “My gorge rises at it.”) Also, rose-red, as elsewhere paired with its color-wheel opposite (“greenafang”) green 563.32: “rosengorge…greenafang:” of the latter, see McHugh: absinthe’s “green fang” predicts Shem’s future as a dissolute continental. The “-gorge” of “rosengorge,” by contrast, may signal England’s St. George, upright and insular. Red and green are of course Christmas colors, appropriate for this round of gift-giving. 563.32: “weals in a sniffbox:” Ellmann’s James Joyce (1984), p. 549, quotes Joyce remembering a snuffbox given to him as a present when he went to Clongowes. (It shows up in Portrait, chapter one.) Snuff is sniffed. 563.32: “Som’s wholed, all’s parted:” scrambling of expression “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.” 563.34: “So you be either man or mouse:” challenge: Are you a man or a mouse? (Given all the child-talk and fairy-tale talk in the vicinity, may also signal Cinderella’s coachmen.) 563.35: “Take. And take.:” compare ALP’s soliloquy: “Take” (628.14). Again, the language is female, here as a mother handing out “presents” (.37) to her children. 563.35: “Vellicate nyche!:” from Latin vellico, to criticize or censure. In other words, Condemn nothing! It is consistent with the mother’s reassurances about the benignity of “divine scheming,” which we should always “be adoring” (.33). 563.35: “the hour of passing sembles quick with quelled:” 1. As McHugh notes, ”the quick and the dead” – according to Apostle’s Creed and Nicene Creed, those whom Jesus will judge at the Second Coming, here as announced by “Kevin” as Gabriel, blowing his “bugigle.” (According to some religions, the “preterite” (.21, 23) will be out of luck.) For its fulfillment in Book IV, see, for instance, 607.17-22 and note. Also, possibly, the “hour of passing” as in the ringing of the “passing bell,” announcing a death, as the quick come to resemble (or assemble with) the dead. 2. Dawn is coming. 563.35-7: “for gives for gives…for these nice presents, kerryjevin:” again, holiday gift-giving. “Kerryjevin” is probably a sign-off rather than a salutation, to right-side Kevin and left-side Jerry, entangled in their wrestling. 564.1-565.16: “Jeminy, what is the view...:” will be narrated by the Jeminy/“Jem” (169.1)/Shem/James half of the (“Gemini”) twins. Like Ham with the drunken Noah, he is viewing his father’s naked backside. Since, down in the master bedroom, the “male entail” still (.3) “partially eclipses the femecovert” (compare “Male partly masking female.” (559.22)), the perspective is the same as previously – from downstage, with both husband and wife still present. That this scene occurs after ALP left the bed and went upstairs (559.32-560.6) suggests that, not for the only time in FW, the action is “eskipping the clock back” (579.5), retracing a previous sequence from a different perspective, that of the child’s (“Jeminy”’s) nightmare of the parent’s intercourse, interrupted by his “cry off” (558.32), with resulting scary “beastly expression” (559.23) of the father. (Such re-takes sometimes feature in movie mysteries – for instance Hitchcock’s Dial M for Murder, or, of course, in Kurosawa’s Rashomon.) Margot Norris was the first to propose that the FW’s original sin is the Freudian primal scene; I agree. 564.2: “Mark!:” see previous entry. Of the four old men, Mark is from the south, the part of the compass corresponding to downstage. We are seeing things from his perspective. 564.3: “male entail partially eclipses the femecovert:” legally, a will with a male entail, restricting all inheritance to the male line (this is the case in Pride and Prejudice and probably the reason Mr. Bennet has kept trying, in vain, to beget a son) would restrict the husband’s ability to provide for his wife after his death. 564.3: “partially eclipses:” as in a partial eclipse of the sun or moon, here of the father’s arse. In “Lestrygonians,” Blooms thinks of such exposures, in his case of women, as “Glimpses of the moon.” 564.4: “meseedo:” Me see. compare 521.25: “I’m sorry to say I saw!” 564.5: “Helius Croesus:” Julius Caesar; Jesus Christ. (“Helius:” sun; “Circe” makes fun of the idea that Jesus was “a Sun Myth.”) 564.5: “Croesus, that white and gold elephant:” Croesus is synonymous with vast wealth, and ivory-and-gold chryselephantine monuments are impressive tokens of wealth. 564.5: “white and gold elephant:” 1. A white elephant is a one-off, often with suggestions of freakishness. (Compare the “whide elephant” of 300, fn. 4.) Some have applied the term to FW. 2. We are getting a tour of Phoenix Park, and in Joyce’s time the Phoenix Park Zoo included elephants. 244.34-6 confirms. 564.5-7: “elephant…fullback:” the full backside reminds him of the elephant in the zoo. Again, HCE is, consistently throughout FW, way overweight. Oxford editors have “Elephant.” 564.10: “relief map:” as at 595.34, a relief map is three-dimensional. The viewer can see the protuberances protrude. 564.10ff: “The straight road…:” in the medley of female voices, this recalls the Kate of I.1, giving a tour of the Willingdone Museyroom. 564.11: “bisexes:” given context (buggery, among other things), an implication of bisexualism, earlier (524.12, 36) applied to a version of HCE 564.11-2: “the largest of his kind in the world:” compare 140.10-11: “the most extensive public park in the world” – a promotion for Phoenix Park 564.13-5: “vinesregent’s lodge…chief sacristary’s residence:” on a map, the former is in fact to the “right” of the latter, almost exactly, horizontally, opposite. In 1882, the murder of the Chief Secretary occurred in the vicinity of the Viceregal Lodge – the “first murders,” in consequence of a “feud fionghalian” (.33, .35), tribal Irish wars. 564.13-4: “turning to the other supreme piece of cheeks:” turn the other cheek 564.13-4: “piece of cheeks:” piece of cheek: impudence. (Also, of course, a buttocks cheek) 564.15: “sacristary’s:” by adding (McHugh) “sacristan” to “Secretary,” and pairing this office with its (“vinesregent’s” (.13)) Viceregent counterpart, Joyce returns to a theme of “Wandering Rocks” – that Dublin and Ireland are ruled by a coordination of church and state, both foreign. 564.15: “amiably tufted:” compare “Circe:” “hairy arse,” “backgate hairs.” See also 566.32-3. 564.17: “Donatus his mark:” archaic version of “Donatus’s mark” 564.18-9: “hundredaires:” by analogy to millionaires. Also, enough heirs could reduce a million-dollar fortune to the hundreds per person. 564.19: “super tin thousand:” the “upper ten thousand” – American and British phrase for the upper class; originally applied to New York society. Also, “tin” is/was British slang for money. 564.19-20: “By gum, but you have resin!:” some resins are gums; also, one mixture is named a gum-resin. Also, “by gum” is an Americanism, usually associated with provincial types. (See also 590.24.) Here, probably a response by Shaun/Kevin to Shem/Jerry’s instructional survey, which as in II.2 includes introducing him to some scandalous facts of life – first, his mother’s vagina; now, his father’s anus. 564.19-25: “By gum…beltings:” blasphemously enough, this sequence turns a view of the father’s naked body – his, so to speak, trunk – and erection into a “tree story” (.21) of (“tannoboom held tonobloom” (.22-3)) a (Tannenbaum) Christmas tree blossoming (such trees are usually pines, and pines don’t blossom) as or like the Tree of Jesse (see 502.6-7 and note), through the Incarnation and Nativity blooming in the dead of winter (again: doesn’t, in nature, happen), then being the “rood” (.23), cross (.26 brings in (“cavalries”) Calvary), on which the grown-up Jesus, after being (.24) “barely…so stripped” (compare “stripped and whipped,” in Stephen’s “Scylla and Charybdis” parody of the Apostle’s Creed), with the “black and blue marks” (.23) resulting from “beltings” (.25), is sacrificed, for the salvation of “juices…jointoils and …paynims” (.20-1: see McHugh), Jews, Gentiles, and pagans, that is Shem, Japhet, and Ham. As, again, in my reading of 502.6-7, the Tree of Jesse blossoming in winter symbolizes light shining in darkness. “Rood in norlandes” (.23) – north lands, Norway – probably adds Yggdrasil as well. (Note: earlier, your annotator specified FW 24.19 as the one place in the book combining Calvary with “cavalry.” Actually, with the “cavalries” (.26) of this passage, there turn out to be two.) 564.20: “juices:” resin sap is also called “juice.” 564.20: “jointoils:” jointures: portion of inheritance willed to wife 564.21-2: “how olave, that firile, was aplantad in her liveside:” perhaps a reference to Athena’s olive tree, planted on the Acropolis, combining with Mary’s impregnation with Jesus, Prince of Peace, symbolized by an olive branch. “Ollav,” as McHugh notes, means “sage,” and Athena is the goddess of wisdom. Also, a kind of reversal of the birth of Eve from Adam’s side: instead of her coming out of him, he is planted in her. Also, a tree (olive) planted by the river (Liffey). 564.22: “firile:” Gaelic fir: man 564.25: “sylvious beltings:” serious beatings (with a belt). (A murky subject, but for other possible intimations of S&M inclinations or practices, see, for instance, 531.6-10, 572.28-9, and 573.28-30.) Also, an allusion to London’s “green belt.” Also, a reason for the male principal’s looking like an earwig. He’s fat; he over-tightens his belt out of vanity, enough to make his midriff “black and blue” (.23); in consequence he has an earwiggy outline. 564.27: “Any pretty dears:” deer, as in a deer park – a sign of wealth. Also, the park temptresses 564.28: “plain:” as contrasted with “pretty” (.27) 564.28: “bad pities of the plain:” Cities of the Plain, bad because famous for buggery, are probably cued by “yonder valley” (.26) - the anal cleft. 564.28-9: “A scarlet pimparnell:” a pimple on his arse. A memorial at the site of the Phoenix Park Murders. It is in fact a cross etched in the ground and not scarlet at all, but then the murder itself was notably bloody. “Parnell” may be present because he was, famously, falsely implicated in the crime. 564.29: “wanted:” wonted 564.30: “Talkingtree and sinningstone:” i. e. “Mrs Quickenough” and “Miss Doddpebble” (619.20), the I.8 washerwomen who turn into tree and stone at the chapter’s end. The dialogue (mainly, if not entirely, female) which began at 560.22 and will end at 565.5 modulates among FW’s female voices. 564.30: “sinningstone:” “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” 564.34: “one snaked’s eye:” Oxford editors change “snaked’s” to “anaked’s.” At the moment, we are looking at a naked body. 564.34: “Is all?:” Iseult, after whom Chapelizod is named 564.34: “bodom:” includes Gaelic bod, penis 564.36: “till night at late:” reverses common phrase “late at night” 564.36-565.1: “sissastrides…pederestians:” horse-riders (women, astride their mounts) and pedestrians. Overtone of pederasty continues the polymorphous perversity strain – they are most interested in someone’s bodily orifice, ambiguously called “Holl Hollow” (565.2), which – see next entry – certainly incites impure thoughts. 565.3: “wankyrious:” wank: to masturbate. (As McHugh notes, “banders” (.3) echoes French bander, to have an erection.) Also, to go with other Wagnerian elements noted by McHugh, Valkyries. 565.3-4: “the banders of the pentapolitan poleetsfurcers bassoons:” the Dublin Metropolitan Police Band, presumably including a bassoon, performed at exhibitions, inaugurations, performances, etc. Here, they perform on (“woodensdays” (.5)) Wednesdays. Perhaps because of the “Hollow”’s acoustics, their performance is heavy on volume, at the expense of musicianship. 565.3: “banders:” (musical) band. Compare previous two entries. 565.5: “wellbooming:” welcoming 565.5: “Ulvos! Ulvos!:” Christiani identifies this as Völva, Norse sybil who announced Ragnarok to Odin. Compare/contrast 482.7: “Vulva! Vulva! Vulva! Vulva!” 565.5: “Whervolk:” the dialogue which began at 560.22 ends here. From this point the back-and-forth is between mother and son(s). 565.6: “moving pictures:” as remarked in note to 559.34-560.6, since 559.31 the action has been theatrically cinematic. Also, ALP, coming from the bedroom downstairs, has literally presented a moving picture. 565.8: “thee:” thy 565.8: “Throu shayest:” Thou sayest 565.9-10: “Will you a guineeser?:” compare 299.30: “Ever thought about Guinness’s?” It was once suggested that the young Joyce apply for a position at the Guinness brewery. 565.12: “Overlord of Mercia!:” Lord have mercy! 565.13: “brainskin…Stemming!:” meninges, brainstem 565.13: “What boyazhness:” how boyish – as opposed to manly – for you to be afraid of shadows! 565.13-4: “Sole shadow shows. Tis jest jibberweek’s joke:” It’s only a shadow. It’s just a joke. This goes with assurances that the nightmare was only “moving pictures” (.6) 565.14: “jibberweek’s joke:” James Joyce 565.15: “both:” the two boys. (Although at .20 she will be addressing (“dear one”) just one of them 565.15: “Putshameyu!:” incorporates “Shame on you” 565.17: “Let op:” up with the optics. (She’s brought a lamp into the room.) 565.19: “phanthares:” see note to 480.25. As predicted at 244.34, like Haines in Ulysses (and, via Haines, Stephen), he has been having a nightmare about a black panther. (Note: modern-day REM studies have shown that early morning, just before waking, is usually the time for dreams at their most perfervid. The last seven-eight pages of the previous chapter, when the sleeper’s thoughts became increasingly erotic and violent, would seem to have anticipated these findings.) 565.19: “Shoe!:” Pshaw! or some similar dismissive expression. Marks approximate point at which, as just noticed (“I have heard her voice somewhere else’s before me in these ears” (.15-6)), the mother’s voice is being transmitted through the child’s ears. 565.21-2: “Opop opop capallo, muy malinchily malchick:” nursery rhyme – like “Ride a cock horse” – frequently accompanied by bouncing infant on the knee. (Here, there is also something like “patty-cake, patty-cake” going on: “”big slap slap…pap pap pappa” (.22-4).) Compare “Nausicaa,” where Cissy Caffrey plays “Here’s the lord mayor” with a baby. In the FW notebooks “Pop” was Joyce’s term for the father figure, and here ALP is doing a rhythmic jog-trot imitation of the father riding his horse. Compare .30-2 and note. 565.21-2: “muy malinchily malchick:” song: “Come to me, my melancholy baby.” Its lyrics (e.g. “All your fears are foolish fancy”) are in line with ALP’s soothing words. 565.22-3: “thoroughbass grossman’s bigness:” grocery business. Again: the pub doubles as a general store. See 78.12-3 and note. Also, of course, large (gross) man doing big business. HCE, the father, is fat, and in this sequence special attention is being paid to what FW has introduced as his ”big white harse” (8.21). It is reassuring, to the son, to think that the father will soon be going away, getting on his horse and going to Dublin on business. 565.22: “thoroughbass:” 1. One dictionary defines “thorough bass” as “a bass note written out in full.” Also called a “continuo.” 2. Also, given horse-riding context, thoroughbred. Shem was, at 555.20, “Jerry Godolphing” –“Dolph” in II.2 - identified by Glasheen as “the Godolphin Arab…from whom all pedigreed race-horses are descended.” Glasheen adds that, “When discovered in Paris, the Arab was so little valued that he was pulling a cart,” and here the horse is trudging the rocky Dublin roads “for to make his thoroughbass grossman’s business” (“Grossman’s:” grocery man’s; again, the Mullingar includes a grocery store.) ALP tries to calm her son up by playing horsey with him: “Opop opop capallo” etc (.20), with “capallo” including (McHugh) Irish and Italian for horse. 565.25-8: “-Li…S!:” Before this and 566.26-7, M. J. C. Hodgart identifies two earlier patches of Esperanto, beginning at 52.14 and 160.29. Unlike other distinctive FW languages and idioms, they seem unrelated to context. In this case, it’s possible that the Esperanto is meant to be a kind of universal pidgin, similar to (“Parolas infanetes” (.28)) baby-talk. McHugh assigns this passage to the four old men; to me, it sounds more like a reversion to the female dialogue which began at 565.5, adapted to the language of the awakened child. 565.30: “dim of mind:” son of mine; also, dim-witted – a likelier epithet for Shaun/Kevin than Jerry 565.30: “Shoe to me now, dear, Shoom of me!:” besides a general “Shush,” the “súil, súil eile, a haon, a do” refrain of a popular Irish lullaby. 565.30-2: “While elvery stream winds seling on for to keep this barrel of bounty rolling and the nightmail afarfrom morning nears:” going out on a limb here. It could be a coincidence, but the tenor and rhythm of this passage strikes me as similar to W. H. Auden’s “Night Mail,” a poem of that name which accompanied a short BBC film released in 1936. In any case, Joyce, like Auden, is, pretty clearly, mimicking the train’s clackety-clack. Compare with the horse-riding trot-trot of .20-2. The night mail here would have been the “dawn” delivery, bringing correspondence mailed after the post office had closed. (Night mail trains often carried passengers as well.) Also, after a long spell, we’re reminded of how Book III began: Shaun as barrel, rolling down the river. 565.31-2: “elvery streams winds…and the nightmail afarfrom morning nears:” compare “trolly ways and elventurns” (606.18) – a similar contrast between straight trolley (or train) tracks and the twisty trails of eels and elvers. (Elvers are baby eels.) The streams are tributaries of the Liffey; both river and track run parallel to the south of the Mullingar House. Compare entry after next. 565.32-3: “keep this barrel of bounty rolling:” as in, keep the ball rolling 565.33-566.6: “When you’re coaching through Lucalised… gleaming:” begins as an advertisement for the Mullingar House/Inn. Gist: if you’re heading for the Hydropathic Spa at Lucan, why not stop off for a stay at our place first? (The composite “Lucalised” helps serve the purpose.) According to reports in the Irish Times, Robert Broadbent, in John Joyce’s time the Mullingar proprietor, had successfully lobbied on behalf of the Dublin-Lucan line, including a stop at Chapelizod. The sound of its last run, at 11:10 p.m., can be heard at 378.7-10. 565.33: “coaching:” in sense of taking a first-class railroad coach. There may also be a memory of coaching days. 565.34-5: “The hammers are telling the cobbles, the pickts are hacking the saxums:” in parallel with “cobbles,” “saxums” includes (as McHugh notes) Latin for stones. The Saxons, like the Picts, hacking at stones to make tools and weapons, are in a latter-day Stone Age. Also, after the withdrawal of Roman legions from Britain, the Celtic Picts and Germanic Anglo-Saxons, arriving at about the same time, must surely have done some rock-throwing and hacking-away at one another. In context of advertisement (see note to 565.33-563.6), this is a promotional set of customer testimonials: here is what everyone is saying about the comforts of the Mullingar Inn! 565.35-6: “it’s snugger to burrow abed than ballet on broadway:” billet, as verb. Gist: harkening back to its days as an inn (“stop at his inn!” (.34)), it’s better to spend the night in a snug bed at the Mullingar House than to billet on the open road. See next. Note: Oxford editors have “ballot” for “ballet.” I think the overtone of “billet” still holds. 565.36-566.5: “Tuck in your blank!...Doze in your warmth!:” more advertising for the Mullingar’s comforts: as in “Nausicaa,” a “good tuck in” means a sound sleep. (Also, directions on making the bed: tuck in the blanket.) Corresponds with mother lulling her child back to sleep, to (“snugger to burrow abed”) snuggle up in bed. 566.1: “roads to ruin:” phrase: the road to ruin. Possibly also Rouen, where Joyce had a miserable time; he wrote a poem about it. 566.2: “riches from poormen:” line from marriage ceremony: for richer, for poorer 566.2-4: “Cried unions to chip, saltpetre to strew, gallpitch to drink, stonebread to break but it’s bully to gulp good blueberry pudding:” the rebarbative diet which the rich bequeath to the poor. (But then, “blueberry pudding” certainly sounds nice, and “stone bread,” despite its negative connotations, including hard-labor stone-breaking, may just be some perfectly acceptable stone-baked bread. All in all, an anomalous list.) 566.2-3: “Cried unions:” onions provoke tears. Possible overtone of “fried onions” 566.3: “saltpetre:” perhaps because of saltpeter’s supposed anaphrodisiac properties. (There are, or were, other medical uses.) If so, all four of the substances listed in this sequence would qualify as definite downers. Compare next two entries. 566.3: “gallpitch to drink:” gall is bitter to the taste. Both galls and pitch derive from trees. 566.4: “bully:” Americanism, popularized by Theodore Roosevelt, meaning something like “wonderful.” Equal-oppositely, in the foodstuff vein, bully (canned) beef, a much-loathed staple of WW I rations 566.5: “elves in the moonbeams:” compare “elvery” of 565.31. Transparent, elvers are often called “glass eels.” 566.5: “feeling why:” perhaps: being nigh 565.6: “will keep my lilygem gently gleaming:” in context of advertisement, a sentiment similar to “We’ll keep the light on for you.” In context of mother soothing child, reassurance that her “knightlamp” (559.36), nightlamp, will stay lit. Modern equivalent would be “nightlight.” 566.6: “lilygem:” little Jim. Compare 114.1: “’tis thime took o’er home, gin:” It’s time to go home, Jim – Nora to James, probably after a night of (his) drinking. “L’il” was a common contraction of “little,” usually conveying condescension. 566.7: “half morning:” in other words, the break of dawn: not full morning, but halfway there. By the next chapter it will be “full morning” (.25). 566.8: “four seneschals:” etymologically, “seneschal” derives from German for “old servant.” 566.9: “sellaboutes:” celibates, in cells 566.9: “balaaming:” like the ass of III.1, Balaam’s ass (here, as McHugh notes, as a “palfrey” (.8)), could talk. 566.9: “sharping up their penisills:” sharpening their pencils: as the four evangelists, they are about to do some serious writing. 566.10: “holdup tent sticker:” hold-up in sense of stick-up 566.10: “swabsister:” a swab (or swabby or swabber) is a menial given house-cleaning duties; a sob-sister is what would today be called a bleeding heart. 566.10: “boufeither Soakersoon:” Sackerson, drunk – soaked - as usual, in his policeman’s uniform, here combined with a British Beefeater’s. Given his drunkenness, Beefeater’s Gin may be in play as well. 566.10: “tent sticker:” as McHugh notes, includes the Danish word for match – probably because Sackerson (“Soakersoon”) has the job of lighting and tending the establishment’s fires: at 593.7-8 he will have “godden up…to litanate the bonnamours.” 566.11: “Katya to have duntalking:” to have (finally) done talking: the Kate of I.1 and I.6 is a nonstop talker. At times she overlaps with the similarly nonstop riverbank gossipers of I.8. Dundalk (“duntalking”), a.k.a. Castletown, is the river running through the town of that name. 566.11-2: “shakenin dowan her droghedars:” compare 40.25-6: “tossing on his shakedown:” a mattress of straw or similar material, associated with flophouses and other low-income dwellings. (Occurs, somewhat ironically, in “Eumaeus,” when Bloom contemplates offering Stephen a “shakedown for the night.”) As here, the term may come from the act of shaking the straw etc. from one mattress or pillow into another. Bed-tending would be one of (“Katya”) Kate’s chores. Also, overtone of “taking down her drawers” 566.12: “Those twelve chief barons:” in the Tristan and Iseult story, the barons are traditionally four in number. 566.12: “duedesmally:” dismally 566.13: “put down:” in sense of suppress 566.13-4: “put down all excursions and false alarums and after that to go back now to their runameat farums:” again, the customers are typically represented as bonafides: they’ve come the legal distance from their homes and have returned or are returning there. The Mullingar House had a history as an overnight inn (see 557.14, 565.35-6, 565.36-566.5, .11, and notes), but not now, at least for them. 566.13: “alarums:” the string of six “arums” rhymes beginning here is a variant on the string of twelve “ation”s signifying the twelve customers. 566.15-6: “with the width of the road between them and all harrums:” ancient Egyptian blessing: “May God be between you and harm in all the empty places you must walk.” Sounds revised to sound Irish 566.16: “maidbrides:” bridesmaids 566.17: “to strew sleeting cinders on their falling hair:” along with the nod to Cinderella, they are getting old – greying, not to mention falling, hair – further reducing their marriage prospects. 566.17: “sleety:” sooty 566.17: “falling hair:” besides going bald, letting their hair down, presumably after the wedding ceremony 566.18: “sadly ringless hands:” because unmarried: always a bridesmaid (.16), never a bride 566.19: “mutherer with cord in coil:” compare executioners described in “Cyclops:” “their deadly coil they grasp.” Hence, murderer – but also, more or less equally-oppositely, mother, with “cord” as what “Proteus” calls the “navelcord” 566.19:” kneeled as she is:” ALP kneeling – presumably the posture she took when comforting her son, in his child’s bed 566.19-21: “the two princes of the tower royal, daulphin and deevlin, to lie how they are without to see:” again: the twins are or were sleeping upstairs, one flight up from the parents’ bedroom – hence “tower.” Still, probably in a dream, one or both witnessed or re-witnessed, from (“without”) outside that bedroom, the setting and action first described on page 559. (See note to 564.1) The (“daulphin”) dauphin, first-born heir, would be Shaun/Kevin, the “deevlin” (compare 222.25) Shem/Jerry. Also again: James Joyce was his parents’ second-born child. The death of his predecessor, christened John, conferred de facto primogeniture on James, and the rapid decline in family fortunes which followed meant that none of his later-born siblings were nearly so privileged. Curiously, “daulphin” and “deevlin,” as names, would seem to reverse (or scramble) the “Dolph” and “Kev” of II.2, where Kev was the angelic one. 566.21: “without to see:” FW equal-opposite, from two meanings of “without:” without seeing; without, to see (within) 566.21-3: “The dame dowager’s duffgerent to present wappon, blade drawn to the full about wheel without to be seen of them:” again: the parents’ bedroom, being witnessed - the primal scene. Before, like Noah’s sons, we had been looking at the father’s naked backside. Now he is, or is “about” to be, turning around, revealing his “wappon,” the “drawn brand” of the “first futherer” (.24, see next entry), first father/fucker. Their titles given here – “duffgerent” has overtones of “old duffer” and Greek geron, old man – emphasize their unseemly age. 566.21: “dame dowager’s:” “dame dowager” is an extremely rare phrase; the one likely source is the 1897 One of Our Conquerors, by George Meredith. A dowager is a widow who has inherited her husband’s estate. 566.23: “infant Isabella:” Issy’s invariable I I (or i i) signature 566.24: “drawn brand:” 1. in keeping with all the phallic doings and noticings of same, “brand” in sense of the blade of a sword, “drawn” from the scabbard, for which the Latin is vagina. 2. a piece of burning wood, “drawn” from the fire. Issy (“Isabella”), the witness here, is repeatedly associated with fire and fireplaces, especially when dealing with her father; as earlier proposed, your annotator thinks that the two communicate via a chimney flue connecting his room’s fireplace with hers, one flight up. 3. As noted by Margaret Solomon, his perennial brand, HCE, as “Herein see ye” (.25). 566.25: “the court to come in to full morning:” compare .7. Things are brighter now, because the sun is rising, because “The smog is lofting” (593.6-7), and because newly-opened eyes have adjusted to the light; hence “Gauze off heaven! Vision” (.28). Oxford editors have “into.” See entry for .28-9. 566.28: “Gauze off heaven! Vision!:” as with “without to see” (.21: see entry), a drastic FW equal-opposite. This is a classic transformation scene, in which a gauze scrim is lifted while stage lighting dims upstage (McHugh: “heaven” as theatrical term for the “back of the stage”) and brightens downstage, and a dismally quotidian real is transformed into a brilliant tableau – for instance Cinderella’s pumpkin becoming a golden coach. (As mentioned earlier, the closest equivalent available to most modern viewers is moment in The Wizard of Oz when black-and-white becomes technicolor.) On the one hand, a “sight entrancing” (566.28-9) – everything bigger and brighter. On the other hand, “beastful” (.33), with an overtone of “beautiful” – “entrancing,” an “entrance” into a scene perhaps best left unentered – the father in flagrante, giant and beastly. 566.28-9: “O, pluxty suddly, the sight entrancing!:” see McHugh for the Moore song being quoted. The next line goes, “When morning’s beam is glancing.” 566.29: “O Sire!” both, as McHugh notes, the phallus of Osiris, and an alarmed O! Father! 566.29-35: “That crag! Those hullocks!...a stark pointing pole. Lord of ladders, what for lungitube!:” first, anus and buttocks, second, erection – either because the father has rolled over or because one viewer is on one side, the other on the other. 566.32: “(non grant it!):” as overtone of “God grant it!” (McHugh), “non” for “God” may be like Blake’s “Nobodaddy.” 566.32: “these wildy parts:” the arse and anus – private “parts” pertinent to Oscar Wilde, by way of his FW association (e.g. 350.10-5) with anal sex. Compare 536.28 and note. 566.32-3: “wildy parts. How is hit finister!:” 1. To the Romans, Finisterre, Spain was – finis, terra - the end of the world. 2. Finisterre has a high peak with a lighthouse on top – the first of this sequence’s phallic monuments; see entries for .36, 566.35-567.4. 566.33: “shagsome:” given context, probably pertinent that in the British Isles “shag” is/was slang for fuck. Also, shaggy: see 564.15 and note. 566.35: “lungitube:” phallic long tube, seen longitudinally – that is, in map terms, vertically. Compare entry for 6.32: HCE’s “E” siglum on its back, with the middle upright prong corresponding to a photographic plate from A. Moret’s Rois et Dieux D’Egypt depicting a supine Osiris with pronounced erection. 566.36: “hather:” Hathor columns: Egyptian monuments to goddess Hathor 566.36: “Areed!” Read! Hathor columns bore hieroglyphs. This one says, “I am hather [Hathor] of the missed” - for “missed” compare “most serene magyansty” (171.25) - along with milepost directions to other obelisks, columns, etc. (As elsewhere, “read” doubles with “reed” as writing implement: to read is to write.) 566.36-567.4: “To the dunleary obelisk via the rock vhat miles knox furlongs; to the general’s postoffice howsands of patience; to the Wellington memorial half a league wrongwards; to Sara’s bridge good hunter and night to meet her: to the point, one yeoman’s yard:” with the Mullingar House as the central point of reference, as the crow flies the distances given for three of these five directions are actually pretty accurate. The distance to the Dún Laoghaire obelisk is just over (see McHugh) eight (‘vhat”) miles, no (“knox”) furlongs; to the Wellington Monument about half a league (that is, one and half miles); to Sarah Bridge, at about two hundred and twenty meters, within reasonable range of (“good hunter and night to meet her”) a good hundred and ninety meters, especially if “a good” means “at least.” As for “howsands of patience:” the distance of about three miles to the G.P.O. would certainly total thousands of paces, whichever definition (there are several) one adopts for “pace.” For “point,” Mink identifies Ringsend, whose outer boundary was set by throwing “a spear or dart,” with its point. (See also 547.20.) No one seems to have a reading for “yeoman’s yard,” but be it noted that it might, hyperbolically, be translated as “young man’s erection,” which, especially with the other “point” nearby (.7) would at least fit with this sequence’s obsessive phallicism. 567.5: “At what do you leer…:” probably because the focus has shifted to the Liffey, much of the ensuing dialogue recalls the Liffey washerwomen of I.8, beginning with “O my big” (.6; cf. 213.1) and “bog” (.6), the Böög effigy burned at Zurich’s annual Sechseläuten (213.18) festival. 567.5: “unfettered belly:” that is, beltless; compare 564.25. 567.5: “setting up:” the man is sitting up… (See next.) 567.6: “Two cascades:” …thus revealing two folds of belly fat. Also, possible reference to the Liffey’s two notable waterfalls, Golden Falls (214.31) and Poulaphouca (194.36) 567.6: “leer:” Danish for laugh. Compare 65.45. The following (“O my big, O my bog, O my bigbagbone!”) is perhaps a variation of “Oh my sides!” – a variant of the expression appears in “Calypso.” 567.7-27: “I must see a buntingcap of so a pinky on the point. It is…Eccls!:” Oxford editors have “poink.” (Publication date is too early for today’s sense of “boink.”) 1. McHugh: “Fox hunters’ red coats are called ‘pink.’” (Also, confirming: echo of “Bye, baby bunting / Daddy’s gone a-hunting.”) Commences yet another reprise of the pub’s almanac picture (see entry for 13.6-8), along with HCE’s “nominigentilisation” (31.34) as recounted early in I.2. Also, see next entry. 2. See 128.1-2 and note. Your annotator remains perplexed as to whether the “gummy article, pink” (559.15-6) in question is a condom or a penile cap. “Buntingcap…on the poink” would seem to indicate the latter. On the other hand, “cap” could be short for capote anglaise, a French term for a rubber condom, and see 584.13 and note. Also, FW specifies Dunlop as the manufacturer (420.27, 584.13): Dunlop did make condoms, but, unsurprisingly, I can find no record of the much rarer (and chancier) penile caps going under that brand. 567.7: “a buntingcap of so pinky on the point:” (Again, Oxford editors have “poink.”) Gessler’s hat on the pole of the William Tell story. An object of fear, since Tell’s failing to honor it brought about the apple-shooting episode - which has, incipiently, its Abraham-and-Isaac intimations 567.7: “pinky:” as “pink” at .9 confirms, this carries the Elizabethan meaning of pierce. 567.8: “glover’s…burgesses:” Shakespeare’s father was a glover and a burgess. The proximity of “leer” (.6), as in Lear, may be related, although no other Shakespeare allusions seem to be in the vicinity. 567.9: “to pink it in this way at tet-at-tet:” probably obvious: sexual intercourse 567.9: “for long:” furlong, like the “furlongs” (.1) of the map directions just given. The “effigy” (.10) is also a directional sign. Also in sense of: It has been this way for a long time, probably too long 567.10: “the standard royal:” as nouns, either word here can mean a flag or other insignia of royalty. Together, a royal standard – never, by the record, with the words reversed – is flown when the monarch is present, here at “Courtmilits’ Fortress,” announcing (see entry after next) a royal visit. 567.10: “when broken on roofstaff:” a flag is “broken” when it is unfolded/unfurled and flown – here, from a flagstaff on a rooftop. 567.11-2: “to the gunnings shall cast welcome from Courtmilits’ Fortress, umptydum dumptydum:” Mink identifies “Courtmilits’ Fortress” as Phoenix Park’s Magazine Fort, along with its (“magazine wall” (7.31-2)), for (“umptydum”) Humpty Dumpty to fall from. Given context, a twenty-one (or whatever) gun salute, from the fort, welcoming the arrival of royalty; “umptydum dumptydum” is the sound of the guns. (Probably a sarcastic note as well – a combination of “etcetera etcetera and so on” and (compare 13.24, 295.14, 345.8) “umpty” as slang for an unimaginably large number.) Also, compare 31.19: the king’s two attendants, one of them named (compare .16 – “Michalsmas”) – “Michael” (.31.17), the other “Giubilei” (31.19)): see .22 and note – are “scatterguns.” Much of the following, up to almost the end (570.13) of this very long paragraph, will be related to the royal visit and its aftermath. 567.13-4: “the queen lying abroad from fury of the gales:” compare a similar scenario at 327.22-3: a Rapunzel-type “titting out through her droemer window for the flyend of a touchman over the wishtas of English Strand” – hoping that a wild sailor type, like the Flying Dutchman, will storm through and rapt her away from her dreary domesticity, with “touch” conveying the Irish sexual sense. 567.13: “fury of the gales:” fury of the Gaels. Compare Captain Corcoran in H. M. S. Pinafore: “I’m never known to quail / At the fury of a gale / And I’m never never sick at sea.” As McHugh notes, this also refers to the initially abortive royal visit of 1821, when “Contrary winds caused the Royal Party to turn back.” Compare entry for .14-5. 567.14: “meekname mocktitles:” someone (MacNamara?) has given her a nickname/mock title. A mock title is a derisive pretend-title given in ridicule, the best-known example being “King of the Jews.” Again, compare the early page of I.2, where the king jokingly confers the name “Earwigger” on his subject. 567.14-5: “(meekname mocktitles her Nan Nan Nanetta):” although Queen Caroline was (see McHugh) “lying abroad” – in fact dying – when George IV’s initial attempt to sail to Ireland was temporarily turned back by “gales” (.14) of wind, Queen Victoria made the trip easily in 1900 and was witnessed by the eighteen-year old James Joyce, who, in his 1907 essay “Ireland, Island of Saints and Sages,” remembered her as “a tiny lady, almost a dwarf.” “Nanetta,” as McHugh notes, is Italian for “little dwarf.” Also, “Nana” means grandmother, and Victoria was by then not just, as she was often called, the “mother of Europe,” but the grandmother as well. (Of, for one, Kaiser Wilhelm, who, as she once remarked, needed “a good spanking.”) See 568.8-9 and note. Coincidentally or not, the same Joyce essay “note[s] merely as a curiosity that the present mayor of Dublin is an Italian, Mr. Nannetti.” 567.16: “bay:” as in bay horse. Perhaps also in sense of inlet of sea 567.17: “aussies:” Australians. Evidence that the king/queen is also head of an empire on which the sun never sets 567.18: “knechts tramplers and cavalcaders:” walkers and (cavaliers) horse-riders. “Knechts” does double duty as knight and (McHugh) servant. Knights were, originally, horse-riders, hence (supposed) exemplars of “chivalry,” which to be sure was often a matter of being in a position to trample the “knechts” at will. 567.19: “Dog! Dog!:” the hunting dogs in the almanac picture 567.20: “tumblers broodcast:” as in a brood of (tumbler) pigeons, cast on the winds. Also, pigeons brood. 567.20: “broodcast:” Ecclesiastes 11:1: “Cast your bread upon the waters, for after many days you will find it again.” 567.20: “progress:” given context, a royal progress 567.20: “ney:” accompanying the royal huntsman/horseman progress, Field Marshal Ney, Napoleon’s chief of cavalry. He first appears at 10.15. As there, his name may be a version of a horse’s neighing. 567.22-3: “buccaneer-admiral:” equal-opposites: normally, admiral and buccaneer would be sworn enemies. 567.23: “aryan jubilarian:” compare the “jubilee mayor” accompanying the king at 31.18. The term was sometimes applied to mayors elected in 1897, the year of Queen Victoria’s golden jubilee. “Aryan” probably echoes “Erin,” along with the airy weather. 567.23: “and on…or and:” and/or (current in Joyce’s time) 567.24: “for a hunting:” as in, “For a hunting we will go.” Compare 233.8-10. 567.26: “faxes. In blue:” blue fox. (Compare 449.6.) Goes with “golden beagles” (mix of beagle and golden retriever) and “white…terriers” (.23-4). The almanac picture is of a fox hunt. 567.26-7: “when each riders other’s ass:” “Ass races. In these, each man rides his neighbour’s ass, and the slowest wins the race:” from an account of country games (the Windermere “Regatta”) in John Briggs, The remains of John Briggs, p. 60. Note: other features of this page - the glove-on-pole (see .31-3 and note), the streamers, the animals, the colors, “grin through collars” (see note to 443.25), the many references to common people, etc. go with a country fair, perhaps as the “Vision” introduced at 566.27. 567.27: “What cats’ killings overall!:” Curiosity killed the cat. 567.28: “guillotined widows:” possible allusion to the window sash circumcision of Tristram Shandy. Also, of course, the guillotine created many widows. 567.28: “Quick time!:” directions for fast march 567.29: “Squintina:” Glasheen takes this to be a reference to Lucia, who had a squint – the British term for what American call crossed eyes. 567.29: “plies favours:” plies favorites (her wooers); plays favorites 567.30: “sues us with souftwister:” petitions/soothes us with soft words – sweet nothings. Perhaps a pitchman at a county fair. (Question: are southwestern winds known for being gentle? Nor-easters are certainly the opposite; “zephyrs,” from the west or, sometimes, southwest, are, as in the “General Prologue” of the Canterbury Tales, traditionally “sweet.”) 567.31: “Apart we!:” Make room! 567.31: “I believe, by Plentifolks Mixymost!:” compare “Grace” in Dubliners: the pope (Pontifex Maximus) declares himself infallible, and a cardinal, previously opposed, responds “Credo!” Here, the authority adhered to is democratic rather than theocratic, appropriate for the public fair underway, of plenty of folks mixing to the utmost degree, of (“peeplers” (.33)) peoples and of (“poblesse”) popular/public, (not noblesse) “oblige” (.25). 567.31-3: “Here are gantlets…Yet if I durst to express the hope how I might be able to be present:” Country fairs were sometimes officially opened by presenting a glove on a pole, standing for the magistrate or highest-ranking available member of the nobility. 567.33: “entrammed:” entrained, entrammeled: opposite meanings 567.34: “solitires:” following bicycles and tricycles - unicycles, with only one (American spelling) tire 567.34-5: “Tollacre, tollacre!:” probably the sound of the bicycle/tricycle/unicycle bells, ringing; compare the bicycle bells’ “Haltyaltyaltyall” in “Circe.” 567.36: “behowl:” allow 567.36: “ghimbelling:” gamboling 568.1-2: “Mauser Misma shall cease to stretch her and come abroad for what the blinkins is to be seen:” adds up to a cat: a (“Mauser”) mouser, who on waking stretches, blinks (compare blinking cat in “Calypso,” with its “shameclosing eyes”), and stares. What she sees is the king, thus confirming the saying “A cat may look at a king” (or queen). 568.3-4: “damson of a sloe:” sloe and damson are two related kinds of sweet plum. 568.4: “cooch:” perhaps slang for vagina; OED lists 1955 as the first occurrence, but, like most other sources, it usually comes late to such usages. Green’s Dictionary of Slang cites Cab Calloway’s “red hot cootchie-coo” from 1936. 568.4: “cooch…evabusies:” coach and (“eva” – every - omni)bus 568.6: “Place to dames:” directions of dance master; compare Maginni in “Circe.” 568.6: “Even the Lady Victoria Landauner…:” How exciting will it be? Even the eighty-ish “We are not amused” Queen Victoria will get excited, will start behaving flirtily (lolling artfully, twirling and playing coquettish games with her parasol), in fact (compare note to .7-8) will become erotically aroused. “Landauner” probably includes Land-owner, appropriately enough for the monarch of the British Empire. 568.6: “the Lady Victoria Landauner:” again given context – royal visit – this includes Queen Victoria, in what Joyce, in his report on her visit to Dublin, called the “Queen’s carriage.” (See 567.14-5 and note.) Whether or not, carriage-wise, it was a landau I can’t determine, but landaus were definitely top-of-the-line. That they were named after the Bavarian town of Landau may constitute a snide glance at Albert’s Bavarian origins and Victoria’s well-known fondness for the region. (“Cyclops,” written just after WW I, when the royals had changed the family name from the Bavarian Saxe-Coburg-Gotha (note “Gothius” at .8) to Windsor, reminds the reader of this, several times. At .16, even the Lord Mayor is “Meynhir Mayor,” a Mein Herr.) 568.7: “leave:” love 568.7-8: “all giddied into gushgasps with her dickey standing:” 1. “Dickey:” little dick: clitoris, the “little rude hiding rod” of 307 fn. 1. (Also, see 296.29-30 and fn. 5.) The subject is still, mainly, Queen Victoria on her royal visit, and Joyce is being very naughty. As “Cyclops” demonstrates, scurrilous gossip about Victoria’s supposed secret sex life was rife up to, and after, her dying day. 2. In carriages of Victoria’s time, a “dickie” was a seat for servants, usually footmen, situated above the boot or trunk – here “standing” because elevated above the passenger level. 568.8: “joustle:” jostle; allusion to Marcel Jousse, who taught that language begins with imitative gestures of body movements; Joyce endorsed him. Compare 468.5. 568.8-9: “Britus and Gothius shall no more joustle for that sonneplace:” besides Brutus and Cassius, a variant of Jacob and Esau, wrestling – jostling – for a place as number-one son. Perhaps “sun” is spelled as German sonne because the phrase “place in the sun” was associated with Kaiser Wilhelm, who demanded that Germany have its place in the sun – that it be allowed to acquire its own empire, just like those (“Britus”) Brits. The Goths (“Gothius”) were a Germanic tribe; “Britus” of course comes from the variously spelled tribe of Britons. Also, son-place: each of the WW I antagonists Britain and Germany was led by a (grand)son of Queen Victoria, whose German ancestry is again being noted. 568.9: “autonement:” atonement in original sense of becoming one. Joyce assigned the word in this sense to “Eumaeus.” 568.9-10: “si:” sis, sister, with a silent (Italian) “yes” 568.10-1: ”Cloudia Aiduolcis, good and dewed up, shall let fall, yes, no, yet now, a rain. Muchsias grapcias!:” compare 157.9-158.24, where Nuvoletta, as cloud, tries to make peace between the (“Muchsias grapcias”) Mookse and the Gripes, and 627.8-12 (ALP on her daughter: “And let her rain”) – clouds become rain when their water density reaches the dew point. Following on “dickey” (.8: see note), “dewed up,” besides something like an equivalent of today’s “all dolled up,” has a sexual sense: since Portrait, chapter five, “dew” for Joyce always or almost always signifies semen – or, here, the female equivalent, erotically induced, of vaginal lubrication. (But also compare the first entry for .12.) More generally, this sequence is predicting/detecting what “Ithaca” calls “incipient intimations of proximate dawn:” morning mist (“Misma” (.1), and “wispful” (.12) cloud (“Cloudia”) and (“dewed”) dew, due to burn off by the beginning of Book IV, news arriving with the morning newspaper, the (“Instopressible”) Insuppressible, the (“annamation of evabusies” (.4)) beginning of the animation of everybody, about to get up 568.10: “Cloudia Aiduolcis:” a sweet cloud. Compare next entry. 568.11-2: “sweet from her, the wispful:” compare 158.6: “the siss of the whisp,” and 627.7-9: “For she'll be sweet for you as I was sweet when I came down out of me mother. My great blue bedroom, the air so quiet, scarce a cloud.” 568.12: “wispful:” compare 148.26: Issy’s “I muss whiss!” Female liquidity in FW frequently involves urination. 568.12: “swopsib:” swopped sibling, as with a changeling. Also, an overtone of sob sister 568.12: “sautril as a mouse:” quiet (silent) as a mouse – and a good thing, too with a mouser in the vicinity (.1) 568.13: “Its ist:” again, Issy’s double-i signature 568.13: “tear:” given context, a human tear. Compare a similar scene at 158.20-1: “Ah dew! Ah dew! It was so duusk that the tears of night began to fall…” As there, the ensuing sounds (“Tix sixponce! Poum!”) are probably from teardrops. 568.14-15: “Hool poll the bull? Fool pay the bill. Becups a can full. Peal, pull the bell!:” ? to me, this sounds like a children’s game called “Who’ll Pay the Rent,” a parody of a routine from stage melodrama, in this case with “bill” instead of “rent.” One actor/actress, playing all three roles: Villain: “You must pay the rent!” Hapless heroine: “I can’t pay the rent!” Villain: “You must pay the rent!” H. heroine: “I can’t pay the rent!” Villain: “You must pay the rent!:” Hero: “I’ll pay the rent!” Accompanied by movement of cloth bundle from upper lip to hair to throat, standing for, respectively, villain’s moustache, heroine’s hair bow, hero’s bow tie. I give it a question mark because the earliest written record is dated 1946. (Clearly, though, it is referring to something already around.) In this reading, “Tix sixponce!” (.13) would be the demand for payment of ten and sixpence. 568.14-5: “Hool poll the bull?...bell!:” Variation on “Who’ll bell the cat?” 568.15-6: “So pleaseyour:” So please you! Address of underling to master, customer, etc: again, the Mullingar House included a general store. Compare the courtly obsequiousness parodied in “Cyclops:” “Cry you mercy, gentlemen, he said humbly. An you be the king's messengers (God shield His Majesty!) you shall not want for aught. The king's friends (God bless His Majesty!) shall not go afasting in my house I warrant me.” 568.16ff: “It stands…” begins another rendition of the FW almanac picture: see 13.6-8 and note. 568.16: “Instopressible:” compare “Nausicaa:” “stop press edition!:” “Stop press” was a newspaper term for items inserted after the edition had officially gone to press. More dramatically, as “Stop the presses!” it meant that the item was so important that the presses literally had to be stopped so that it could be included. 568.16: “Meynhir:” besides German Mein Herr, appropriate for a (“boorgomaister” (.17)) Burgomeister, a menhir, a totemic standing stone, frequent in Ireland. Compare next entry. 568.18: “his hod hoisted:” Tim Finnegan: “To rise in the world he carried a hod.” Also, his head hoisted, above his “bib and tucker” – for men, a formal shirtfront 568.18-20: “bib and tucker…necknoose aureal,” with “bib and tucker” counted as two items of clothing, this comes to HCE’s usual seven garments. “Clouded cane” and “aureal” go with the morning weather. 568.19-20: “clouded cane:” in the eighteenth century, an accessory for a fashionable or foppish gentleman. Sir Plume in The Rape of the Lock has one. 568.20: “necknoose:” neckcloth (fashionably), hangman’s noose (knot) 568.20-1: “surrounded of his full cooperation with fixed baronets:” “cooperation:” the Dublin Corporation (McHugh) includes the (“Meynhir Mayour” (.16)) Lord Mayor. “Fixed baronets:” fixed bayonets, plus local nobility. Again, Joyce’s essay, on Queen Victoria’s entry into Dublin: “The Queen’s carriage passed, carefully protected on all sides by an impressive body of guards with bared sabres.” 568.21-2: “our pueblos, restrained by chain of hands:” reminds your annotator of newsreels of Hitler’s motorcades, with hysterical crowds (“pueblos:” people) being held back by soldiers or police linking arms in a human chain fence. Equally-oppositely, see next two entries. 568.21: “chain:” mayoral chain, contrasted with (see second note to .20) noose 568.22-3: “pinchgut, hoghill, darklane, gibbetmeade, and beaux and laddes and bumbellye:” tokens of poverty: hunger, pig stye, back alley (haunt of bandits), gallows, bumbailiffs. (Beaux and ladies, on the other hand, don’t seem to fit the pattern, unless sarcastically.) Overall sense is that the Lord Mayor’s chain (see two previous entries) is what protects him either from such fates or from the hoi polloi, prone to suffering such fates. 568.23: “Dom King:” Dún Laoghaire was named Kingstown in honor of George IV’s visit; Victoria also arrived there. 568.24: “a keys of goodmorrow on to his pompey cushion:” the keys to the city (McHugh) presented on a cushion. (Compare 31.1, where the male principle greets the king while carrying “turnpike keys” – before being dubbed Earwicker, a signature of one kind of porter.) Also, the presenter, the Lord Mayor, planting a (“keys”) kiss on the king’s plump arse. Also, Pompey: the Roman ruler, assassinated on his arrival in Egypt. See next entry. 568.25-6: “Arise, sir Pompkey Dompkey!:” as a reward for the ceremonial keys, and for being a pompous (donkey) ass, and for kissing the king’s arse (see previous): the king’s words to a subject (as McHugh notes, the Lord Mayor) he has just knighted in return for what Joyce, without any doubt, would regard as an act of abject servility. (For the response to “sir,” see .34 and note.) Also, reverses Humpty Dumpty’s great fall 568.25: “your grace’s majers:” besides (McHugh) your gracious majesty, “your grace,” the usual form of address for a duke or duchess, or, more likely in this case, archbishop – church and state 568.26: “Ear! Ear! Weakear!:” again: reprises agnomen-bestowing scene at the beginning of I.2, with (“cabbuchin garden” (.28)) “cabbaging Cincinnatus, the grand old gardener” (30.12-3) 568.26: “An allness eversides!:” On all sides! 568.27-8: “that horse elder…in a cabbuchin garden. That his be foison, old Caubeenhauben!:” Wellington’s horse Copenhagan, now (“elder”) old and put out to pasture. According to a search through the internet, horses sometimes do, but shouldn’t, eat cabbage, as “foison,” at least not in large quantities. 568.27: “that horse elder yet cherchant:” horse (“cherchant”) chestnut, elder (“cherchant”) chestnut. This seems to be saying that they’re looking for it in its old place but can’t see it: things have changed since the last visit. Notwithstanding, the FW backyard tree is usually an elm. 568.29-30: “splendour of Sole! Perfect weatherest prevailing Thisafter, swift’s mightmace deposing:” tradition of “king’s weather” - that the sun always shines for royal appearances. (In a “Circe” fantasy, Bloom in excelsis has “Bloom’s weather. A sunburst.”) “Splendour:” Latin splendere, to shine. The sun – “Sole”/Sol continues its rise, deposing (“mightmace”) nightness, with probable overtone of nightmare. (At least one of the twins has just awakened from a nightmare.) As predicted with the radio “Welter focussed” of 324.24-34 (“the outlook for tomarry…beamed brider, his ability good” (324.33-4) – the outlook for tomorrow being brighter, visibility good), and confirmed in the next chapter (e.g. “Soft morning, city!” (619.20)), the weather, after a dark and stormy night, is fine. 568.30-33: “he shall aidress to his Serenemost by a speechreading from his miniated vellum, alfi byrni gamman dealter etcetera zezera eacla treacla youghta kaptor lomdom noo:” he reads an address to the king, which is pure gibberish and (see entry for .32) gammon – in this case the beginning of the Greek alphabet, recited with no comprehension whatsoever. 568.31: “Serenemost:” Petr Škrabánek glosses as “he shits on the bridge.” Compare next entry. 568.32: “gamman:” gammon: nonsense. Approximate modern equivalent would be “bullshit” 568.32: “miniated vellum:” red letters on lambskin. Classy; bloody; appropriate for the approaching rosy-fingered dawn 568.33-4: “that illuminatured one, Papyroy of Pepinregn:” McHugh notes presence of papyrus and Pharaoh Pepi – whether as Pepi I or Pepi II, both reigns were recorded on papyrus. 568.34: “my Sire:” having kowtowed to the “Sire,” he is reciprocally made a Sir. According to McHugh, that is exactly what happened: “Abraham Bradley King, Lord-Mayor of D[ublin], presented keys of city to George IV, kissing his hand, on his arrival in city centre, & was knighted on the spot.” For “hand,” Joyce substitutes “pompey cushion” (168.24) a.k.a. “the bulkside of his cul de Pompe” (153.16-7), a.k.a. His Majesty’s arse and anus. 568.35: “scaffold:” especially in the vicinity of royalty, this is bound to be a double-edged word at best – the king here is being honored on one kind of scaffold, but Charles I was beheaded on another kind set up for the purpose (by, according to one tradition, someone named Joyce: see 516.19, 516.23, and notes), Finnegan, in some versions, fell from one, and, as in the patriotic song “Whether on the scaffold high,” Irish martyrs were hanged from scaffolds. Old “Rex Ingram” (.35) - Rex I – had better watch out. (Including “Overtones,” Hart’s five citations for “scaffold,” in A Concordance to Finnegans Wake – 14.25, 314.2, 355.27, 568.35, 621.29 – all confirm.) 568.36: “poking out with his canule into the arras:” Hamlet stabbing Polonius, hiding behind the arras, or vice-versa. Alternatively, he is the “illuminatured” king – ill-natured, illuminated, illy illuminated – looking behind the arras, with a candle for light. Also, pointing things out – the “brilliant bridgecloths,” the ”crimosing balkonladies” (596.1-2) 569.1: “what brilliant bridgecloths:” what brilliant broadcloths: the king appreciating the fashionable dresses (broadcloth, with (“fullbelow”(s), furbelows (.3)) of the lady spectators. See next entry and first note to .3. 569.1: “joking up with his tonguespitz:” again, pointing at the sights, but with (McHugh) the tip of his tongue – jokily, not to say disrespectfully 569.2: “crimosing balkonladies:” again, Joyce’s essay on Victoria’s cavalcade: “In the decorated balconies were the officials and their wives.” The later are crimsoning (with blushes) in response to the king’s pointing to them and offering compliments. (Also, as McHugh notes, grimacing – equal opposites – although, on the other hand, high-fashion ladies may sometimes be described as “grimacing” in affected displeasure or embarrassment.) 569.2-3: “here’s a health undo their modest stays:” mutual admiration: they drink a health to his/their majesty/majesties, his majesty to their modesty/modesties. Also, their majesty’s stays. Both George IV (because fat) and Victoria (because female) wore stays; see next two entries. 569.2: “help undo:” roguishly, His Majesty says that he would happily help them undo their stays. (Hence the blushing.) 569.2-3: “modest stays:” girdle and similar undergarments, worn for modesty – which (see previous) he would like to undo – or so he at least pretends 569.3: “with a fullbelow:” Oxford editors have “within” for “with.” Furbelow: given context, probably an undergarment’s flounce, with a suggestion of “far below” – the women’s below-the-waist shape, i.e. the buttocks, which, ironically or not, furbelows and some women’s “stays” (.3) could make seem not just full but fuller. 569.3: “funnyfeelbelong. Oddsbones:” funny bone: the ulnar 569.3: “Oddsbones:” “Odd’s Bodkins,” dodging-the-curse version of “God’s Bones” 569.4: “gluckspeels:” gospels, musically accompanied by glockenspiels 569.5-11: “S. Presbutt-in-the-North…Wardborg:” a list of four churches (see next entry) followed by two lists of six: the four apostles, the twelve disciples, the four old men, the twelve customers 569.5-6: “S. Presbutt-in-the North, S. Mark Underloop, S. Lorenz by the Toolechest, S. Nicholas Myre:” as McHugh documents, for Dublin, this gives a standard N-S-E-W circuit of the kind usually followed by FW’s four old men – in the Western Rite, the points of the right hand making the sign of the cross. For the first three, it would seem to apply as well to Ireland: Presbyterian North, Mark in the South, Laurence O’Toole of Dublin in the East. Mink, like McHugh, glosses the fourth item as “St Nicholas of Myra’s Church” of Dublin and, for reasons not clear to me, also assigns it to Connacht. (The twelve Dublin churches of the next list do not seem to appear in any particular order, geographical or otherwise.) 569.9: “and audialterand:” also, audibly. (The ringing bells are being heard, audibly.) 569.9: “Jude-at-Gate:” Judas Goat, a goat trained to lead the herd to slaughter 569.9: “Bruno Friars:” perhaps a suggestion of Bruno being burnt – fried – at the stake; compare “fried-at-belief-stakes” (170.33). Bruno was a (Dominican) friar. 569.13: “pray one’s own prayers:” echoes “hear oneself think” 569.13: “holyyear’s:” Holy Years, or Jubilees, are declared by the pope. Also, see 567.23 and first note. 569.14: “Agithetta and Tranquilla:” agita and tranquility – equal opposites 569.14: “shall demure umclaused:” 1. Shall remain demurely enclosed: an enclosed convent (here, Tranquilla Convent) is one maximally separated from the world without. 2. Shall de-mure (compare defenestrate) – exit the walls and become un-closed/uncloseted. Equal opposites. Also, in the same vein, be demurely unclothed, stays or no stays 569.14-5: “Marlborough-the-Less:” Dublin’s Malbrough Street Pro-Cathedral – like a cathedral, but not quite 569.16: “virgilances:” vigils, as held by (nuns) virgins 569.17: “agame!:” again! 567.17-8: “Primatially. At wateredge. Cantaberra and Neweryork:” Canterbury and York, the two British cities to have Church of England archbishops, or primates. Also, New York and Canberra – two waterside cities with archbishops, in this case Catholic 569.18: “supprecate:” supplicate, celebrate 569.19: “goldwhite swaystick ylifted:” chryselephantine – as in “Circe,” a sign of pomp and wealth. Also, compare “Cyclops:” “Gold Stick in Waiting” - a parody of grandiose titles given to royal attendants. Also, the crozier ceremonially carried by the “Monsigneur of Dublin” (.20). (According to recent pictures on Google Images, the color scheme is silver-white; his vestments, however, are white and gold.) In either case, deflatingly doubles with an (“umbrilla-parasoul” (.19)) umbrella/parasol, economically functional in both rain and sunlight 569.19: “ylifted:” Mediaeval English construction for “lifted” 569.21: “To board! And mealsight!:” Englishing of French “à table!,” summoning people to dinner, a meal. Commences a banquet, complete with Mumm’s champagne (.28), in honor of the king’s arrival – at .23-4 he will be touted as a version of the hospitable Old King Cole – along with distributions of food to the general public. Anne Marie D’Arcy’s “’Eating orangepeels in the park’: Largesse, Libel and Public Action in Ulysses” (Jonathan Goldman, editor, Joyce and the Law, pp. 157-178) offers an informative account of how such dubious “Largesse” was received by the Irish during Victoria’s visit. 569.24: “swill with his fuddlers:” to be “fuddled” is to be drunk, from swilling. The usage occurs in “Oxen of the Sun.” 569.25: “Poppop:” again, “Pop” was Joyce’s notebook term for the FW father figure. Also, sound of popping champagne (.28) corks, in celebration 569.28: “Call halton eastwards!:” compare “Caherlehome-upon-Esker” (220.35), a version of Caerleon-on-Usk, legendary home of King Arthur – which definitely makes it “eastwards” from Ireland. Perhaps present because of kingly banquet in progress 569.29: “Ithalians:” McHugh: Thalia, muse of comedy: the banquet will include entertainment, featuring, among other things, “mummers” (.28). This commences a series of allusions, also noted by McHugh, to fictional, theatrical, and cinematic figures – all of them, in their own ways, putting on a show for his majesty. It will in turn be followed by “royal nusick,” music (560.2), probably Handel’s Water Music and/or Music for the Royal Fireworks (there will be “pyrolyphics” (570.6), pyrotechnics) originally produced for King George I; the musical portion will conclude with an interval of “nature’s solemn silence” (570.3) either accompanied or followed by a sentimental song by Thomas Moore (570.3) and some harp music by John Dowland (570.4-5), probably because both were Irish. Finally (570.5-6) will be dances, acrobatics, and, again, fireworks, the latter turning positively (“viceuvious pyrolyphics” (570.5-6)) Vesuvian. 569.32: “(finaly! finaly!):” one not two “l”s, as in “finale.” 569.34: “gat:” gun 569.34: “boyplay:” byplay, playboy (original meaning: a boy actor) 569.35: “What tyronte power! Buy our fays!:” perhaps a coincidence, but the popular movie In Old Chicago, starring Tyrone Power and songstress Alice Faye, premiered in January, 1938. 569.36: “Thou traitor slave!:” a line from Thomas Chatterton’s “Bristowe Tragedie” 570.2: “royal nusick:” Royal Nonesuch, from Huckleberry Finn, in its turn an allusion to Henry VIII’s “Nonesuch Palace;” also antiquated spelling of (“nusick”/musick) music 570.2: “their show shall shut:” the musical part of the show will conclude – shut down – here, with a fade-out to “silence.” The finish will be (“Dalchi” (.3)) dulce. 570.2-3: “songslide to nature’s solemn silence:” a diminuendo. Also, see 176.8 and note, 569.29 and note. 570.3-4: “Might gentle harp addurge!:” My gentle harp, a dirge! Combines Moore (see McHugh) and Dowland (see note to 569.29) in a dulce, dailce, sweet and mournful musical number 570.4: “It will give piketurns on the tummlipplads:” Christiani has “There will be girly shows on the playground.” (As McHugh notes, this sounds both Danish for “playground” and Swedish for “battlefield.”) Perhaps also echo of tummler, Yiddish for professional jokester; the word was current. Also, a memory of Porter/HCE as turnpike keeper, first noted at 3.22. 570.5-6: “viceuvious pyrolyphyics:” As McHugh notes, Vesuvius: the fireworks on the program are, at their most impressive, volcanic. Compare next entry, also “hot town” at .8, and, at .17, “herculeneous,” as in Herculaneum – certainly a hot town when Vesuvius was erupting. 570.6: “a snow of dawnflakes, at darkfall:” probably a fireworks effect, staged – of course – after night falls: compare the “greeny dewy stars falling” after the final pyrotechnical explosion of “Nausicaa.” Also (see previous entry) volcanic ash 570.7: “fancy ladies, all assombred:” the stage, and setting, darkens, gets ombre, after the fireworks. Perhaps a memento mori commentary on what happened to all the fashionable folk of Pompeii and (.17) Herculaneum 570.9-12: “jesterday…on morrow…but it is never here that one today:” compare the Red Queen in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland: "The rule is, jam to-morrow and jam yesterday – but never jam to-day." See entry for .12-3. 570.12-3: you where yesterday Ys Morganas war and that it is always tomorrow in toth’s tother’s place:” continues .9-12: yesterday was once tomorrow and today is always tomorrow somewhere. For instance, there’s always somewhere where it’s (“Morganas”) morgen, morning. Similar thoughts occur to Bloom in “Lotus-Eaters.” 570.13: “toth’s tother place:” compare Hamlet’s “the other place,” meaning hell. 570.9 was (see McHugh) quoting from The Book of the Dead, in which Thoth is the underworld god who decides the fates of souls. McHugh identifies this as alluding to “toth-ball,” Italian for cunt, and, in the most famous story of the Decameron, “putting the devil in hell” means sexual intercourse. 570.14-5: “True! True…It gives furiously to think:” One member of the dialogue has just “remind”ed the other “to think” (.11) – and, obligingly, the other one is grateful for the advice. (Compare entry after next.) What s/he is thinking about is mainly, time: s/he was mixing up past, present, and future, but now will set about distinguishing present from past, for instance how “Mr Portner” is a “lot stoutlier than of formerly” (.17-8). 570.14: “Vouchsafe me more soundpicture:” sound picture:” a term sometimes applied to “talkies,” shortly after their first appearances in 1927. The speaker, responding to “You do not have heard?” (.8), wants more news, including a broader range of sensory input, in this case not of the arrival of the king but of “rich Mr Pornter, a squire” (.15). 570.14-5: “It gives one furiously to think:” Helmut Bonheim has this as coming from “Es gipt…zu denken:” German for “That makes one think.” 570.15: “Mr. Pornter:” again, Mr. Porter; also song title: “Oh! Mr. Porter!” (See 222.8-9.) 570.16: “taken deal:” taken ill 570.17: “a lot stoutlier:” “stout” can mean either reassuringly solid (Hercules (“herculeneous” (.17)) is certainly an example), or fat: that he looks as if he could “hold whole a litteringture of kidlings under his aproham” (.18-9), hide a litter of children under his apron, certainly supports the latter sense. HCE’s obesity is consistent throughout FW, and in his capacity as Mein Host pubkeeper, he sometimes wears an apron. (Joyce himself was always thin.) Also, simply, body fat in the fundament: Christiani glosses “in taken deal” (.16) as “in his rear part.” 570.18-9: “a litteringture of kidlings under his aproham:” 1. As McHugh notes, “aproham” is Abraham (Sarah will show up at .29), the definitive (“Pournterfamilias” (.20)) paterfamilias, his seed (from his penis, under his (“aproham”) apron), multiplied among nations. 2. With “kidlings” as kindlings, a fireplace apron – a term which, frustratingly, can be differently defined. One version is “a horizontal band of material below the mantel shelf or cornice” – something the kindling could be “under.” His (many) kids are his kindlings, fireplace equivalent of childbed’s (“litteranture”) litter, and Abraham’s “seed.” 570.21: “marryingman:” like Abraham, a marrying man 570.22: “appeers:” declared “Sir Pournter” at .17, he is now a peer. 570.22: “appeers as our oily:” Persse O’ Reilly. Yet another indication that he is something like HCE’s (antagonistic) alter ego. Also, echo of an O’-Something and “two fine mac sons” (.23), recalls the 16th century English ordinance, quoted at 236.19-20 and remembered at 444.26-7 and 529.16, “neither O ne Mac shall strut ne swagger through the streets of Galway.” The O’ and Mac prefixes signified aboriginal inferiority. 570.23-4: “want they mack metween them:” the one they make between them – the penumbral “tertium quid” (526.13) who sometimes appears with the twins, turning their two into three. 570.24: “She, she she!:” the daughter. Also, perhaps the wife, the “she” - three is ALP’s number - who with her husband is one half of the “they” and “them” (.23) who (“metween”) between them made the children described 570.24: “leer:” laugh; see 567.6, above. “She, she she!” may have been sound of laughing. 570.24-5: “I am not leering, I pink your pardons:” denial notwithstanding, s/he is still staring at, or at least thinking of, “the buntingcap of so pinky on the point”/poink (567.7). It would be leering, not just looking, because (compare entry for 567.7-2) of the of the sexual component: the “pinky on the point” may be the contraceptive device called a penile cap. 570.26ff.: “Do you…:” from here until at least 572.22, it is difficult to account for the sequence of events without invoking some kind of double-focus – not so much split-screen as two (sometimes more) screens, superimposed. There is a mother-and-daughter, ALP-and-Issy walk to Islandbridge/Sarah Bridge (again: 567.3-4), about two hundred meters/four hundred (khaibits” (.29)) cubits from the Mullingar House) which is simultaneously ALP’s visit to Issy’s bedroom to reassure her, and a mutual overhearing of the father’s downstairs mutterings. (Your annotator’s real-time/real-place hypothesis is that, after calming the twins, ALP visits her daughter’s room and, as she will also do with HCE in FW’s last pages, soothes her with a detailed version of a proposed excursion, probably on the day now dawning. It helps that she has a knack for such imaginings, since “her bread’s full of sillymottocraft” (623.19) her head’s a cinematograph. As for their overhearing the father’s words, I have proposed elsewhere that the parents’ room downstairs shares a common chimney with Issy’s, and that Issy sometimes picks up sounds and words from below, and vice versa. 570.26: “on the present:” at the present 570.27: “prickly heat:” a symptom of heat rash, common in children – sometimes a symptom of anxiety. Mainly, though, the speaker, by this point clearly female, is saying that she needs to get to a bathroom/privy at the “earliest moment,” so the symptoms may signal the onset of a menstrual period, probably her first. In the following sequence (as in “Penelope”) urination and menstrual discharge can seem interchangeable. (As remarked previously, the availability of such facilities in Phoenix Park, especially for females – they are scarce, and one of them is sometimes out of commission – is a recurring FW concern.) Issy’s room, which presumably includes a chamber pot, is often associated with sounds, real or imagined, of female urination. 570.27-8: “Forthink not me spill it’s always so guey:” for “spill,” compare Onan, who “spilled his seed on the ground.” For “gooey,” compare Bloom, after masturbating in “Nausicaa:” “made me do love sticky.” “Forthink,” as McHugh notes, traces to German for “blame.” Gist: don’t blame me for having a wet dream (563.6). Still, the main kind of wetness she’s concerned with right now is female – menstruation and/or urination. 570.28-31: “me spill…sairey’s place…admire her sceneries:” as Mink notes, Sarah Purser, painter, held receptions (compare 535.24: “your mespilt reception”) in Mespil House on Mespil Road, Dublin. More pressingly right now, the speaker doesn’t want to spill, wet herself. 570.28-9: “Here we shall do a far walk (O pity):” under the pressing circumstances, any public convenience is going to seem far away, and that’s a pity. 570.29-30: “sairey’s place. Is is.:” Sarah Place (McHugh), next to Sarah Bridge, a.k.a. Islandbridge; also (Is) Issy’s room. Although Chapelizod is said to be named after Iseult of Ireland, I can find no report of Islandbridge’s having played any part in the Tristan and Iseult story. Still, as signaling the location where the briny ocean water mingles with the Liffey’s fresh water, it sometimes marks FW’s meeting of lovers. (See entry for .30ff.) Less romantically, the context here suggests that it’s the location of the nearest public toilet. 570.30: “Is is.” besides Isis, goddess of the rainbow, a matter-of-fact abbreviation of What is, is – a follow-through of her agreement (compare first entry for .14-5) to start getting her real-world bearings. Compare entry for .31. 570.30ff: “I want you to admire her sceneries…:” commences an abrupt transition from outhouse-seeking to an erotic encounter between Tristan and Iseult, which will continue at least up to 571.26. Logic? Just possibly, the facility in question may include something like the “Halcyon Days” almanac picture of genteel courtship on the wall of the “Nausicaa” outhouse. Or it may just be that, having finally reached her destination, she is or will be able to relax and admire the scenery, with (see entry for .29-30) its lovers’ meetings associations. 570.31: “ought ought:” 00: sign on privy. Compare .35 and note. Also, see entry for .30: there’s things as they is, and there’s things as they ought to be. 570.32-3: “where Sylvanus Sanctus washed but hurdley those tips of his anointeds:” trees, probably willows, with the tips of their branches brushing the surface of the water – a sylvan scene. Compare (203.21-9) Michael Arklow with the freshwater ALP: in this case the tree is a sycamore. Also a finger bowl, signifying daintiness, and a baptismal font, signifying sanctity 570.32-3: “ford…hurdley:” Henry Ford. (His Irish ancestors were from Cork, not Dublin.) 570.34: “crimstone:” compare 569.2: “crimsoning” – again, a sign of the onset of menstruation 570.35: “guardafew:” “Gardez-loo!:” Edinburgh cry when emptying chamber pots into the street. Here, Gardez-feu, fire, because in the vicinity of a fireplace 570.36: “everthrown your sillarsalt:” overturning a salt cellar is bad luck, for which the remedy is throwing salt back over your left shoulder. Also, echo of “pillar of salt” – what Lot’s wife turned into when she looked back. One woman, mainly the mother, is telling another to resist the lures of the Tristan-like lover who is beckoning. Issy’s first menstruation would be a likely time for her mother to start warning her about men. 571.1: “brilling:” given context – a healing spring, for blindness among other conditions - it’s probably pertinent that, as Bonheim notes, Brill is German for eyeglasses. 571.3: “which makes the daft to hear all blend:” hyperbolic ad for healing powers of local spring (“clear springwell” (.2)) or spa. Given musical context, the formerly deaf are now hearing all the sounds around them, blending together. This may reflect 19th and 20th century findings that those born blind or deaf, if given sight or hearing, have difficulty distinguishing one of their newfound senses from another, also that the experience can be overwhelming: for “blend,” Bonheim gives German blend – blenden: dazzle - dazzling. 571.3: “daft:” in sense of insane – another malady to be cured 571.3: “springwell in the near of our park:” from the perspective of the Mullingar House, the spring that gave its name to Phoenix Park, near the Viceregal Lodge, would be near the rear of the park. Also, probably, Lourdes, the most famous of the springs reputed to make the blind see, etc. 571.5: “the fronds that thereup float:” Cumaean Sybil, tea-leaf readers, and other interpreters of leaves 571.5: “fronds…bookstaff:” fronds – leaves – are, in the sense of leaves of a book, book stuff. See next. 571.6: “leaves incut:” a book with its leaves uncut 571.8: “take a message:” typically, an executive’s order to his secretary – the “skillmistress” (.7), here, again, doubling with a version of the Cumaean Sybil, with her leaves of interpretation, spelling out a somewhat disarranged version of “TRISTAM” – perhaps out of order because the leaves were liable to be blown around. Also, a schoolmistress, teaching the alphabet 571.10: “another place:” compare “tother place” of 570.13 and note. 571.11: “chapelofeases:” Chapel of Ease: originally, a wayside chapel for those unable to reach the main church. Slangily, an outdoor toilet: compare note to 396.31-2. (Remembered in “Cyclops” as a “cabinet d’aisance.” Another jokey version combines two meanings of “W.C.” – wayside chapel, water closet.) 571.11: “sold for song:” expression: (sold) for a song: for next to nothing. Compare 500.21-2: “Sold! I am sold…I sold!” 571.12-3: “O…Ah:” Omega…Alpha. In either order, a frequent FW motif, for instance for the first sentence of I.8 571.12: “O ma ma!:’ again, the conversation is in Issy’s upstairs room, between Issy and her mother, who has come to comfort her – again, probably because of the onset of Issy’s period. Compare Bloom on Milly: “Her growing pains at night, calling, wakening me. Frightened she was when her nature came on her first. Poor child! Strange moment for the mother too. Brings back her girlhood.” 571.13: “sorrowful:” folk-translation of Tristan 571.13-4: “his cloister dreeping of his monkshood, how it is triste:” in one spin-off, Tristan disguises himself as a monk to visit Iseult in disguise. Also, as McHugh notes, monkshood is the source of aconite, a poison, and in some versions, including Wagner’s, Tristan and Iseult will die of poison. In Ulysses, Bloom’s father has poisoned himself with aconite, possibly out of grief for the death of his wife. 571.15: “cold in dearth:” cold in earth – that is, buried, because “triste to death” (.14), died of sorrow from star-crossed love. Tristan’s name has been widely folk-etymologized as deriving from triste, sorrow. 571.15-7: “You see, my blanching kissabelle, in the under close she is allso gay, her kittles green, her curtsies white, her peony pears, her nistlingsloes!:” compare the early loving description (556.7-21) of Issy as child. Here she is grown up some, and ALP seems to be grooming her for courtship. 571.15-6: “in the under close she is allso gay:” in her underclothes she is also dressy 571.18: “to tryst myself softly into this littleasechapel:” again (see first entry for .11), a chapel of ease, where she can (blissfully) relieve herself, in language sometimes recalling Molly’s use of the chamberpot in “Penelope.” A chapel is also where one goes to get married. Less happily, a “chamber of little ease” was a cell deliberately made too small for the prisoner to lie down or sit. Impressively even for FW, “tryst” manages to accommodate the Tristan story, the ”tryst”ing of lovers, the twisting it takes to stay in the place of little ease, and possibly the trust bestowed when courting or getting married, even in as unromantic a place as this. 571.19: “make:” as in, make water. Compare next entry. 571.20: “peace:” pee/pees. Oxford editors have “ppeace.” She is urinating. 571.20: “Pouringtoher:” Molly, on the chamberpot: “its pouring out of me like the sea” 571.21: “pppease:” see entry before next. 571.21-6: “Why do you so lifesighs, my precious, as I hear from you, with limmenings lemantitions after that swollen one? I am not sighing, I assure, but only I am soso sorry about all in my saarasplace. Listen, listen! I am doing it. Hear more to those voices! Always I am hearing them. Horsehem coughs enough. Annshee lispes privily:” compare 143.29-148.32, where, in the view of your annotator, the chimney-borne (“burning…that draws dothe smoake” (143.28-9)) voice of Issy is heard downstairs by the awakened and aroused father. As there, it is heavy with sibilant sounds (background wind and rain contribute), for instance in the word “precious.” As there, the hearing is two-way: Issy has been in the habit of picking up the distinctively liquid and hoarse, lisping and coughing respectively, sounds of her two parents, one floor beneath hers, and in this case, the downstairs version of the father’s somnolent grumblings being heard follow immediately: “-Legalentitled. Accesstopartnuzz,” etc (.28-.33). It is a quintessentially (“limmenings”) liminal experience, and, as McHugh notes, the “I am doing it” recalls the words of 21.2-3, introducing the literally liminal prankquean episode, also between versions of daughter and father, also involving “pease,” very much including the urine sense of “p[ee].” “Listen, listen!” is one example of Issy’s signature double-i, especially when communicating with a real or prospective lover. “Swollen one” may be erotic, either real or projected: as in “Nausicaa,” erections in Joyce’s work are commonly “congested districts.” That in one sense she is, simply, “Hear[ing]…voices” may remind us of Lucia’s mental affliction. 571.22: “lemantitions:” includes (lamentably) leman, a lover 571.25: “Horsehem:” given context, hoarse one; “hem” conventionally (in theatre, for instance) signals a hoarse sound in throat, sometimes with a cough. 571.26: “Annshee:” O Hehir: water sprite 571.28: “Notwildebeestsch:” probably a response to overheard words from 566.32-3: “wildy…beastful” – again, about the father, who at 559.23 had a “beastly expression.” All six of the fragments in this sequence are protesting, somewhat defensively, that he is entitled to have marital relations with his wife, abruptly interrupted when, on hearing “A cry off” (558.32), ALP jumped out of the bed to check on the kids. Other items included by both McHugh and Oxford editors, for instance “Claimtopossessk”, emphasize this part of his complaint. Spelling of “wilde” is almost certainly an allusion to Oscar Wilde, as object of scorn: see second note to 566.32, above. 571.30: “S!...Slee:” again, probably sound of Issy’s urination. In Ulysses, “Proteus” and “Ithaca” both establish the sound Stephen’s urinations as being what the latter calls “sibilant.” 571.30: “Make a noise:” given context, “Don’t” has probably been spoken but unheard or unrecorded. 571.32: “Huesofrichunfoldingmorn:” see McHugh – yet another noticing of the dawning day. In the source (again: McHugh), John Keble’s The Christian Year, each dawn proves God’s grace, banishing the doubts and demons of the night just past – certainly a comforting text after the often nightmarish III.3. This invocation of the arch-Anglican Keble is yet another confirmation of HCE as Church of England/Ireland, living in a sometimes hostile Catholic community. 571.35-572.6: For our netherworld’s…club!:” reflects a shift to the father’s perspective, resentful of the “youngdammers” (572.2) who been giving him a hard time. 571.36: “toadcavites, chessganglions:” toad cavities: refers to belief that live toads were sometimes found encased in rocks, leaving “toad cavity” when removed. Oxford editors change “chessganglions” to “cheeseganglions.” Together, the two would constitute paired opposites: a ganglion is a swelling – presumably in lumpy cheese – that is, the opposite of a cavity. 571.36-572.1: “saltklesters:” vaginal salt douche 572.1: “firenibblers:” presumably a minimalist version of fire-eaters – that is, radical (and young, and diminutive) troublemakers. “Fireeater” in this sense appears in “Circe.” 572.1-2: “knockling aterman up out of his hinterclutch:” compare Bloom in “Lestrygonians,” thinking of patients “knocking them [doctors] up at all hours.” Here, a trouble-maker knocking (with their knuckles) at night to rouse an alderman up out of his (winter) sleep. 572.2: “Tomb be their tools!:” given (death-dealing) context, may their tools lead to the tomb! 572.3: “will soon be heartpocking on their betters’ doornoggers:” see McHugh. In his essay “The Day of the Rabblement,” Joyce, clearly thinking of himself as the “younger generation,” cited this passage from Ibsen. Also, a version of common saying that girls/young women (“youngdammers”) will soon be (“heartpocking”) making men’s hearts throb, even break. 572.4: “youngfries:” besides German Jungfer, take-off on American expression “small fry.” 572.4: “diamondcuts:” in “The Dead,” the Misses Morkan buy “diamond-bone sirloins,” evidently a choice cut. Listed in 1959 Institutional Meat Purchases Specifications for Fresh Beef as “the anterior portion of the Loin.” Compare 137.3, 406.16. Steaks are being fried, with (compare 170.33) cannibalistic overtones; “spick and spat” (.5), I suggest, is the sound of sizzling on the grill. 572.4: “lyingin underlayers:” lying in: seclusion during pregnancy, although here, equal-oppositely, with funereal sense of “undertaker” in the background, it’s the dead who are lying under layers (of earth, of previously buried bodies), while their young descendants, when not busy digging yet more graves for their “forebears” (.4-5), are having a cookout on top. 572.6: “fourinhand:” foreign 572.15: “Live well! Iniivdluaritzas! Tone!” Christiani glosses “Live well!” as Lev wel! - Scandinavian for Farewell! McHugh has the same reading for the Eskimo (“esmeno” (.16)) expression “inûvdluaritse.” Gist: we (with ALP) are leaving the (“daughters” (.16)) daughter’s room. (Note the Issy signature “ii.”) 572.16: “Cant ear!:” Bend an ear! 572.16: “Her dorters ofe?:” given context, perhaps: [Is] her door open? 572.19-20: “The procurator Interrogarius Mealterum presends us this proposer:” the proctor presents us with this poser – that is, difficult question or problem. Proctors supervise exams. 572.21-576.9: “Honuphrius…And whew whewwhew whew:” the sound of the father downstairs, muttering in his sleep or half-sleep, as overheard by his wife and child/ren. The location is Issy’s upstairs room. Annotator’s commentary: these are, by far, the most boring three-plus pages in FW, and also the section which comes closest to ordinary daily discourse. Probably that’s the point. 572.21: ”Honuphrius” is HCE. It will twice (.25, .27) be spelled “Honophrius.” 572.21: “exservicemajor:” compare “exsearfaceman,” 429.19, where the term applies to the manservant Sackerson. 572.23: “droit d’oreiller, simple infidelities with Felicia, a virgin:” overtone of “droit de signeur,” of Persse O’Reilly, of “droit” d’ear(wicker), and of “perce-oreille” – all together, combining the (apparently fictitious) tradition that nobles were legally entitled to deflower local maidens before their wedding nights with the tradition that earwigs can enter the ear, get stuck there, and go on to bore through the skull, with bad results for the brain. (“Persse O’Reilly”’s I.2 ballad breaks through window glass in its assault on the hearer’s ear.) Also, compare “The Mother of God,” Yeats’ poem on the Annunciation: “a fallen flare / Through the hollow of an ear.” Since, in one version it was Gabriel’s words that impregnated the Virgin Mary, conception was through her ear. (Some paintings also have a beam of light, originating in the hovering dove, heading in that general direction.) As the second Eve redeeming the first, Mary embodies the Felix of Felix Culpa – hence, probably, “Felicia.” On what I have called FW’s primum nobile level, the father, Earwicker, has intermittently been hearing/imagining his daughter’s voice, coming through the chimney flue connecting his room with hers upstairs: he has been sinning through his oreille, ear, he hopes reciprocally. McHugh glosses “droit d’oreiller” as “pillow-right” which I take to be a version of what Ulysses (“Scylla and Charybdis”) calls “caudlelectures” – a spouse’s (usually wife’s) prerogative of filling her mate’s ear at bedtime. 572.23: See previous entry. “Felicia” is Issy. 572.24: “unnatural coits:” unnatural coitus. Here, the accusation is of pederasty or incest; at 574.25-6 it will of having used a condom or other contraceptive device. 572.24-5: “Eugenius and Jeremias” are the twins, versions of Kevin (Shaun) and Jerry (Shem). “Eugene” means well-born; Shem writes jeremiads. 572.25: “two or three philadelphians:” again: the twin signature – two / three, in either order. Loving brothers. Given Philadelphia’s religious founding, there is probably an echo of Mathew 18:20: “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” It may also be pertinent that James and Nora had three children, the first of whom died shortly after birth. 572.26-31: “Anita…Anita:” Nora reported that Joyce encouraged her to “go” with other men, so that he would have something to write about. Also, in “Circe,” Bloom muses on Molly’s wish to go sexually “slumming” among the lower orders. These lines have HCE encouraging his servant to “solicit the chastity” of his wife. 572.26: “Anita” is ALP. 572.27-8: “Fortissa” is Kate, introduced as “Kate Strong” (79.29). 572.28-30: “blasphemously confessed under voluntary chastisement:” compare 141-28-142.7, 531.4-26, and 565.25. 572.29-30: “his slave, Mauritius to urge Magravius” are Sackerson the manservant and the mysterious Magrath. As elsewhere, the proximity here suggests that they are close or even, sometimes, identical. 572.30: “a commercial:” a traveling salesman, as such a favorite of what were called smoking-room stories – as in this account of his “solicit”ing of Anita 572.30-1: “to solicit the chastity of Anita:” to some extent Anne seems aware of this and at times can reciprocate; see especially 584.5-6. 572.31: “some illegitimate children of Fortissa with Mauritius:” unless these are, somehow, the leap-year girls, this is the first we’ve heard of them. Still, see next entry. 572.33: “Gillia:” Related to or identical to the mysterious Lilly Kinsella. As such, “schismatical wife” suggests she and McGrath may have been divorced or separated. She also seems at times to double as Issy, for instance at .35. Two parallel sets of considerations: 1. Dervorgilla (there are other spellings) was the first wife (of two) of Dermot MacMurrough (again, different spellings), who either seduced or abducted her from her husband Tiernan O’Rourke (other spellings), making her, according to, among others, Mr Deasy and the citizen of Ulysses, Ireland’s Helen of Troy – the “schismatical” wife whose infidelity led, via MacMurrough, to subjugation by the British. MacMurrough’s center of power was Hy Kinsella. So: Dervor/gilla – Lilly Kinsella. (As McHugh notes, the word can be Italian for either white or yellow, and lilies are both.) Edward MacLysaght’s The Surnames of Ireland lists the Kinsella sept as “a branch of the MacMurroughs.” 2. Lilith was Adam’s first wife, “schismatical” in the sense that she left him (and was replaced by Eve, resulting in enmity between the two women (see 618.3-4)). That Barnabas (see next) the “advocate of Honuphrius” (.34) who visits her “clandestinely” (.33) and has “tenderly debauched” her (573.1-2), may recall the tradition that Lilith is the female phantasm of male erotic dreams. At 530.33, Kate, an older, angrier incarnation of ALP, is (“succuba”), a succubus. 572.34: Barnabas: the biblical Barnabas is something of a mediator and facilitator; he helped introduce Christianity to the gentiles. Still, as far as FW goes, this seems to be a new presence. 572.34-5: “an immoral person:” that is, probably, Honuphrius, not Barnabas 572.35: “Jeremias:” again, Shem/Jerry 572.35-6: “(a cooler blend, D’Alton insists):” sounds to me like a cigarette ad, but the proximity of Dalton (compare 248.22, and McHugh’s note) and various colors indicates that it has more to do with the sense used in this 1925 quotation from an article on interior decorating: “With its warm colors he adds cheer and coziness to the simple little cottage. The great mansion he dignifies and strengthens with a cooler blend” – that is, that he is an expert on colors. 573.1: “has been tenderly debauched…by Honuphrius:” whichever meaning of “Gillia” is in play here, “debauched” need not necessarily mean being sexually overcome. The original sense is to lure or seduce someone from one side to the other, so that they “debouch” from their former constraints. 573.3-4: “committed double sacrilege with Michael, vulgo Cerularius, a perpetual curate:” As noted earlier, Joyce’s work sometimes contains suspicions of the sexual power priests might have over their female parishioners. Using information learned in the confessional to blackmail a female penitent into sex (Chaucer’s Pardoner does just that) would be a double sacrilege. The Michael here probably corresponds to the letter’s Father Michael, who has died and, presumably, gone to a (“Cerularius”) cerulean heaven. 573.4 “perpetual curate:” it’s confusing, at least to me, but clergy with this title could sometimes assume the role of priest and be called “Father” accordingly. Still, as a class, curates in general were subordinate and, usually, ill paid. One (Anglican) curate is temporarily dismissed as a marriage prospect by a woman in P.G. Wodehouse’s The Code of the Woosters with these words: “You’ve got to face it. Curates are not so hot.” Perhaps not pertinent here, but “curate” was also Irish (not English) slang for bartender. 573.7: “Sulla, an orthodox savage:” leader of the Sullivans, the bar’s customers. Sullivan is a common Irish name, often contracted to “Sully.” For “orthodox savage,” read “[Irish] Catholic aborigine.” 573.7-9: “desires to procure Felicia for Gregorius, Leo, Vitellius and Macdugalius, four excavators:” recalls the voyeuristic avidity of the four old men of II.4, and, as “excavators,” their examination of the underground/underwater Yawn in III.3. 573.9-10: “rendering conjugal duty when demanded:” Ellmann’s 1984 biography, page 639: “The physical side of marriage had become less attractive to her, perhaps also to him. ‘I hate it, Kathleen,’ she told her sister.’” 573.10-11: “incestuous temptations from Jeremias and Eugenius:” for instance their exploration of her vagina in II.2 573.15-6: “after the death of Gillia:” see 572.33. As a demon of night, Lilith would be from the land of the dead. 573.16-8: “she fears that, by allowing his marital rights she may cause reprehensible conduct between Eugenius and Jeremias:” again: the primal scene 573.18-9: “Michael…dispenses her from yielding to Honuphrius:” see .3-4. Again, Michael as a priest, with the power to bestow dispensations in the ecclesiastical sense, in this case from her obligation to have sex with her husband. Normally it would have been the other way around, but this Father Michael probably has ulterior motives. 573.19-20: “who pretends publicly to possess his conjunct in thirtynine different manners):” “thirtynine” (see McHugh) confirms indications elsewhere that he belongs to the Church of England, which licenses him to have sex with his wife in a Kama Sutra-like number of varieties. Perhaps pertinent that Anglican (but not Catholic) marriage vows entitle the partners to each other’s “body.” Note, in light of preceding entry, “pretends.” 573.20-1: “(turpiter! affirm ex cathedris Gerontes Cambronses):” see previous entry: high Catholic authority (probably a version of four old men) disapprove of sex between those not married properly by a Catholic priest. “Turpiter!,” spoken by “Cambronses” echoes (as identified by Glasheen) Waterloo’s Cambronne, with his “mot,” “Merde!” Compare 185.24, where “stercore turpi” is Latin for “foul dung.” 573.23-7: “Anita…nullity:” gist? Seems to say that Michael will grudgingly pardon her for submitting to sex with her husband if she only pretends to enjoy it – to “practise a pious fraud during affrication” (.25) - but doesn’t really 573.23: “subdolence:” no such word, but “subdolent” is/was Scots for crafty or cunning. 573.23: “comminates:” comments/threatens 573.24: “reserve her case tomorrow:” legally, “reserve” means to postpone a decision on a point of law while proceeding with the trial or similar procedure. 573.25: “a pious fraud during affrication:” fake orgasm during intercourse 573.25-7: “affrication which, from experience, she knows…to be leading to nullity:” compare 585.31 and note. Whatever “You never wet the tea” means, this would seem to confirm. 573.29: “strong chastisements:” repeats 572.28-9: “Honuphrius” has “confessed under voluntary chastisement.” This seems to say that the chastisements were for Honuphrius, not from him, and that Kate was the chastiser. Kate is (79.27) “Kate Strong.” Compare Kate at 531.10: “I awed to have scourched his Abarm’s brack for him:” she ought to have scratched/scorched HCE’s back, because he was ogling a picture of her younger self while she was ironing his back as treatment for his back-ache – actually a practice recommended at the time. 573.30: “Canicula:” see McHugh. Again, as at 572.31, apparently another new addition to the cast of characters. The family has a cat, but up until now there has been, I think, no mention of a dog on the premises. 573.35-576.9: “This…whew:” the issue before the court is the marriage debt. (See next entry.) Despite the ruling – that ALP need not comply – she will, as recorded on pages 580-4, make some form of accommodation, all the while imagining her partner to be someone else. (Bloom, in “Nausicaa,” about sex with the usual partner: “She must have been thinking of someone else all the time;” Molly later confirms.) 574.3: “joint deposit:” semen, deposited in wife, with suggestion that there may have been two such deposits from two different men – a case of “heteropaternal superfecundation” – a rare but real medical phenomenon. Would account for the FW twins being so different; compare .17 and note, .25-30 and note. 574.4: “mutual obligation:” again, “marriage debt” of mutually obligatory sex; compare, for instance, 573.16. 574.9: “Judge Doyle:” Mink lists this as a reference to the Irish Dáil Éireann. 574.9-10: “common jury:” the twelve customers – always or almost always hostile to HCE 574.12-3: “Jucundus Fecundus Xero Pecundus Coppercheap:” as McHugh notes, Coppinger, repeatedly associated with cradles and babies – hence (“Fecundus”) fecundity. As abbreviation of “Francis Xavier,” middle initials beginning with F. X. have sometimes served as a signal of exceptional Catholic piety. (See 58.18 and note, 211.20 and note.) Such a figure would ipso facto be publicly opposed to legalized birth control. Here, he is arguing that the sex, marital or otherwise, wasn’t legitimate because the possibility of impregnation was canceled by a rubber contraceptive. 574.16: “senior partner:” the husband 574.17: “lodgment of species:” deposit of semen, perpetuating the species. (Or not) 574.18: “national misery: national treasury 574.24: “trusthee and bethrust:” probably obvious: sexual innuendo, referring respectively to husband and wife 574.25: “a good washable pink:” 1. rubber contraceptive; 2. rubber check/cheque 574.25-30: “Since then…cash:” the cheque has been in circulation as security for purchases and debts, but never cashed or deposited. As a “crossed cheque” (.14) it would have been restricted to one specific deposit or payee. In general, this has to do with issues of marital fidelity/infidelity, single or double paternity. 574.28-9: “not one demonetised farthing:” variation on expression “not worth a farthing,” with likely allusion to Wood’s halfpence (.1), the English-imposed currency against which Swift campaigned 574.30: “hard coin or liquid cash:” hard cash; financial liquidity 574.30-2: “The jury…all…named after doyles:” not a good sign that they all have the same name as “the belligerent judge” (.32-3). As usual, the trial is a farce. The verdict will go against HCE: they will “let down their thoms” (575.35), their thumbs. 574.31: “sour dozen of stout fellows:” the Sullivans again. Again, their “sour”ness does not bode well for HCE. Also, the expression “a dozen of stout.” Guinness stout, to some, tastes sour. 574.36: “the depleted whilom Breyfawkes:” “depleted” in sense of both out of funds and deceased, “whilom” in sense of late – again, as in deceased; he has “entered into an ancient moratorium” (574.36-575.1). (Guy Fawkes was certainly deceased.) Gist: a court-ordered title search has failed to discover any pertinent records about his financial history because he lived in the time of “early barters” (.575.10), when officially certified records of financial transactions were rare. Oxford editors have a capitalized “Whilom,” which might bring William Shakespeare, remembered in “Scylla and Charybdis” as Anne Hathaway’s “poor dear Willun,” into the mix, especially considering that in the same chapter Stephen amalgamates him with George Fox, founder of the Quakers, as “Christfox.” (And, of course, Shakespeare’s will has long been a subject of controversy.) At various points in Book I, especially I.4, HCE is depicted as a fox at bay or hiding from hounds. As McHugh notes, Joel Chandler Harris’s Brer Fox has been a presence since 574.4. 575.2: “junior partner Barren:” “Barren” is apparently a version of the “Warren” of 574.4. (At .31 it becomes “Sparrem.”) Some FW sleight of hand here: in the legalese context we probably expect “junior partner” to be a member of the law firm in question, therefore almost certainly a man, but it turns out to be the wife, his partner for life. HCE is the “senior partner” (574.16), because older (by, I believe, two years, as it was for James and Nora) and the wife is the junior, and being past child-bearing (see 427.15-6 and note) is barren. (See 559.15-6 and note.) Here, she appears mainly in the person of Kate, in her capacity as ALP’s future – the “aged crafty nummifeed confusionary” (333.6), barren by way of age, at least, “proletarian” (.5), loquacious, and not inclined to give HCE the benefit of the doubt – so, of course, she has to be (.6) yet another Doyle, that is, one of a body of hostile jurors or legislators who have it in for the male principal. She is hostile because, being old and barren, she has, at least according to her version of events, been judged superfluous and demoted to household drudgery. 575.5: “turfwoman:” turf woman: a race-course camp-follower. Probably more pertinently, compare the earlier “turfwoman” of 12.10-11, where, as Biddy the hen, a version of Kate the Mullingar House maid, she has the job of keeping the establishment’s hearth fires, set by the manservant Sackerson (593.7-8), in a continuing state of “blaziness,” with bellows (“Poffpoff” (12.12)) and renewed supplies of fuel - either coal or, this being Ireland, turf. At .11 she brings things to the (“bollion”) point: that is, as cook, she is also charged with boiling water, for instance for tea. 575.7: “add woman in:” a double-n: Ann. (Compare “Add dapple inn” (113.18), one version of the FW letter’s signature.) Given context, it’s pertinent that Shakespeare’s wife was named Anne. (In “Scylla and Charybdis,” Stephen spells it “Ann.”) May imply that she is what in romantic melodramas is sometimes called “the other woman” – as, again according to Stephen, Ann/Anne often was 575.9: “corset checks:” a version of the “crossed cheque” (574.14) dispute 575.11-2: “Mr Brakeforth’s first of all in exchange at nine months:” given context, the strong implication is of becoming pregnant and giving birth as the result of a broken or failed contraceptive. In “Oxen of the Sun,” where such happenstances have “sent more than one luckless fellow posthaste to another world” (or, at least, part of the world), the thunder-god “Bringforth” represents the command to bring forth and multiply. The (or a) gist of 575.1-20 is that as wife ALP was barren; as second woman (handmaid, mistress, prostitute) she became pregnant. Possible fit with Abraham - Sara/Sarai - Hagar story 575.15: “blank assignations:” 1826 court decision: “The Lords found a difference between a blank-bond and a blank assignation.” Other Google Books hits seem to confirm that, for about two hundred years, this was a recognizable term in court cases having to do with finances. Also, “assignation” is and was a word often euphemistically used for illicit sexual encounters. 575.15: “pinkwilliams:” Sweet Pink William: a hybrid variety of flower, named for William Shakespeare. Compare, among other recent allusions to Shakespeare, “Mr Brakeforth’s” at .11, “Will Breakfast” at .29-30. 575.15-20: “sometimes…suburban:” at times incorporates language of stamp-collecting: exotic colors, “series,” “endorse, adhesively,” “timber” (.19): French timbre, stamp 575.17-8: “to endorse, adhesively:” see previous entry: stamps, endorsed or not, are adhesive. Also, see 570.27-8: semen is “guey,” or, as Bloom puts it in “Nausicaa,” sticky.” 575.21-3: “wrought something between the sheets of music paper which she had accompanied herself with for the occasion and this having been handed up for the bench to look at in camera:” that is, she sang a song from a musical score which she had previously presented to the judge in his chambers. Also, in a trial setting, to “sing” is to turn state’s evidence with incriminating testimony about another party. 575.21: “between the sheets:” perhaps obvious: a phrase often used in accounts of sex. Condition of sheets (as in Wilde case) is or was sometimes admitted in evidence of adultery or other sexual transgressions. 575.22: “had accompanied herself with:” as in, the singer “accompanied herself” on the piano 575.24-5: “Coppinger’s doll…the adopted child:” Coppinger is repeatedly identified with infants or children. 575.24: “annias:” Ann (ALP); slurring of “also known as”/”alias.” Ulysses’ “Ithaca” refers to Ananias as “a mendacious person mentioned in sacred scripture;” FW’s 170.31 confirms that he tells “whoppers;” the implication would be that her testimony is dishonest. (No idea how the often baffling Coppinger translates into “Mack Erse”) 575.25: “jerrykin and jureens:” jerry-can and tureen, both vessels. Coppinger, often associated with children, has introduced a “doll,” after which the courtroom company becomes, for a spell, miniaturized “-ins,” “-eens,” in a “little green” room. 575.26: “jim, jock:” James Joyce 575.26: “green courtinghousie:” greenhouse: Irish slang for a public urinal 575.27-30: “act of settlement to reamalgamate herself, tomorrow perforce, in pardonership with the permanent suing fond trustee, Monsignore Pepigi, under the new style of Will Breakfast and Sparrem, as, when all his cognisances had been estreated, he seemed to proffer the steadiest interest towards her:” opaque legalese, probably meant to confound. If – best guess – the “his” of “his cognisances” is “Monsignore Pepigi,” and M. Pepigi is a version of HCE, then he has failed to honor an agreement of obligation to the state, in a case where Kate is the other party, and has accordingly forfeited some or all of his rights in the case before the court. Still, the self-declared injured party, Kate, because of his “steadiest interest towards her” (.32), has offered to “reamalgamate herself” in (“pardonership”) partnership with him (.27-8), pardoning his transgressions. In the ensuing lines (575.32-576.9), the judge will somehow manage to rule against all the parties involved, including the lawyers, mainly on the grounds that as either a slavey or a slave, Kate had no legal rights to begin with. 575.29-30: “suing fond trustee:” probably sinking fund trust/trustee – a fairly common term in legal and financial documents 575.29-30: “Will Breakfast and Sparrem:” again, Will Shakespeare, with his contested will, with spouse as partner, “Warren”/”Barren”/“Sparrem” 575.31-2: “he seemed to proffer the steadiest interest towards her, but his this prepoposal was ruled out:” as a suitor, he 1. paid her the most attention, and 2. was, financially, as someone earning steady interest from his investments, the best bet for supporting her in the way to which she had become accustomed. “Proffer” in financial sense of preliminary offer or tender; “preproposal” in courtship sense of (preliminary) proposal of marriage. In either sense, the offer was ruled out – in the continuation of this thread, because the woman was either already married, or dead. 575.32: “ruled out:” music paper (.21) is ruled. 575.33: “in a matter of course:” as a matter of course 575.35: “pickpackpanel:” juries are empaneled; the expression “handpicked jury” (like, as McHugh notes, “packed”) connotes corruption – along with overtone of “pickpockets.” 575.36: “let down their thoms:” Christiani has “judgments” for “thoms,” and legal judgments are conventionally “handed down” from the court. 575.36-576.1: “occupante extremum scabies:” “Occupet extremum scabies:” from Horace. One dictionary of phrases translates it as the imprecation “Murrain take the hindmost” – which here seems to include all parties involved in the case. 576.2-3: “the woman they gave as free:” she was represented as a freedwoman but was not. 576.2-3: “contractual incapacity:” 1. By contract law, she had no right to appear in a legal capacity. 2. Compare the “first cataraction” of 232.29-30, referring to, among other things, the first contractions of childbirth. Again, Kate is barren. Unpleasantly enough, the precedent to be cited at .5-6, of Henry VIII v Anne Boleyn (see McHugh), according to which “no property in law can exist in a corpse” (.5), is about a wife who, although not barren, was killed for not being fecund, as in “Fecundus” (574.12-3), in the way her husband demanded. Barren or not – again, see McHugh – being dead took away whatever rights she might once have had. 576.3: “(the Calif of Man v the Eaudelusk Company):” califs proverbially kept harems, of (“Eaudelusk”) odalisques. One example of male (“Man”) tyranny over women; Henry VIII (see previous entry) would certainly constitute another. 576.3: “Eaudelusk:” long shot: in “Sirens” the viceregent’s wife is dressed in “eau de nil” (pale green), that is, water of Nile; Luxor is on the Nile. So: an expensive (de luxe) perfume, eau de Luxor, to be sure compromised by the fact that the Nile, like the Liffey, can be muddy and mephitic. 576.4: “mamy’s mancipium:” Mammy: once affectionate if demeaning term for black female slave or, later (“mancipium:” emancipated: compare “born into contractual incapacity” (.2-3)) black mother or mother figure; in Joyce’s time made popular by blackface performers, most famously Al Jolsen. Compare 176.12, 227.14, 421.35. “Mancipium:” along with (McHugh) the Roman term for legal purchase of, for instance, a slave, also, equal-oppositely, manumission/emancipation (of slaves), including Mammy 576.6-9: “Pepigi’s pact was pure piffle…whew:” becoming childish, the always-hostile judge is playing up to a courtroom packed against the defendant; it responds with “(loud laughter).” Judge Jeffrey’s assizes had such episodes, as does the trial against Bloom in “Circe.” Again, Joyce’s attitude toward the legal system in general and trial by jury in particular is invariably jaundiced. The Irish, after all, have a certain fund of experience when it comes to packed courts and hanging judges. 576.8: “pango:” tango: it takes two 576.9: “And whew whewwhew whew:” next line: “He sighed in sleep.” Movies etc. of Joyce’s time and since have a standard scenario for comical “snorring” (578.2): loud snorting followed by less loud “whewwhew whew.” This marks the juncture where the children, by whatever medium or media, cease monitoring the father and return “To bed” (.17). (Oxford editors replace the period after “bed” with an exclamation mark.) Nonetheless, the readers, as viewers, stay where they were. 576.12: “Lest he forewaken:” Lest we forget. Also a probable allusion to Ibsen’s last play, “When We Dead Awaken.” McHugh glosses as German for “stay awake;” given context, probably also an equal-opposite “wake up too early” – the father is still at least half asleep. 576.14: “hovering dreamwings, folding around:” see 559.1, above – the “wings” of a stage set. Also, the mother’s arms, to be remembered after she is gone. Guardian angels are sometimes described as hovering over the mortals they are protecting. 576.15: “wee wee mannikin:” Joyce’s notes to “Cyclops” show that he was familiar with “weewee” as a childish term for urine. Fits the context, that being (see McHugh) the “Mannekin-Pis” of Brussels 576.15: “big wig:” also bigwig – American slang for an important or self-important individual. Also, a play on H. C. Earwicker’s/earwigger’s name, in light of the fact that earwigs are proverbially beneath notice or contempt, and certainly not big 576.18: “Prospector projector and boomooster:” returns us to the parent’s bedroom, beginning with an enthusiastic account, somewhat qualified, of the father: a Swiftian projector, a (see 53.1) boomster (OED: speculator – combines boomer and booster), a master builder and burgomeister: in short the founding father. Will continue by listing some of his legacy, then, until 578.15, a sequence repeatedly pairing him with ALP, who, it will turn out, is back in bed, lying beside him. (Note: the punctuation – comma, colon, semi-colon – sometimes seems arbitrary.) 576.19: “hopping offpoint and true terminus:” beginning and end 576.19-20: “terminus of straxstraightcuts and corkscrew perambulaups:” contrast between street-straight travelers (echoes Damascus’ “Street Called Straight;” given Joyce’s practice, probably not accidental that this appears one page after reference to Ananias (575.24), one of two main figures – Saul/Paul is the other - in the biblical (Acts 11:12) account) with fixed goal at destination, and the twisty wanderings of pedestrians, especially those pushing prams. Compared to the latter, the former is a shortcut. Compare 491.9-12 and note. 576.20: “straxstraightcuts and corkscrewn perambulaups:” straitcoats (also strait waistcoats, for the insane) and corkscrew trousers. I cannot describe the latter, but the term shows up in late-19th century accounts of men’s dress, and in “Aeolus” there is an apparently pertinent reference to someone’s “Cork legs.” Compare 335.34 and note. 576.21-2: “every muckle must make its mickle:” organizational saying: every tub must stand on its own bottom – every department is responsible for its budget 576.22: “as different as York from Leeds:” not all that different, actually – two ancient Yorkshire cities, about twenty miles apart, each of which played a significant role in the 19th-century rise of the industrial midlands. Leeds is bigger; York has a cathedral. The pairing here with “as different as chalk from cheese” – that is, very different – is a classic case of FW saying two opposite things at the same time. 576.22-3: “the only wise in a muck’s world to look on itself from beforehand:” because he’s in a “book of Doublends Jined” (20.15-6), therefore “mirrorminded” (.24) – in fact one of his avatars is Janus. A “muck’s world” is a piggish world; See, for instance, 86.21-2. 576.23: “wise:” wight: ME term for person 576.24: “mirrorminded:” echo of Coleridge on “myriadminded” Shakespeare; quoted in “Scylla and Charybdis” 576.26-7: “prick this man and tittup this woman:” according to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, “Tittup has been used as a noun naming the imitation of the sound of horses’ hooves moving at a pace between a canter and gallop” – here, in response to the “prick” of his spurs. In the next line, she will be a “couchmare” (.28) – nightmare, mare. 576.27: “our forced payrents:” definition of parents: the ones who are forced to pay your rent. For a while, college students of my acquaintance were in the habit of calling their parents “the rents.” 576.28: “cunnyngnest:” cunt/cunny paired with (.27) “Bogy” – bog: Gaelic for penis 576.28: “couchmare:” couchmate: bed-partner 576.28: “Finnykin:” finicking; (finny) fish-like 576.29: “lame of his ear:” compare “Ear! Ear! Weakear!” as in “weak ear” (568.26). Also, the four old men of II.4 are twice described as “spraining their ears” (384.18-9, 386.10), and a sprain would naturally induce lameness. 576.29: “gape of her leg:” to pair up with “lame of his ear,” ought to be “game of her leg” as in game or gammy leg. (Apparently, however, no genetic support.) On the other hand, a gaping wound in the leg could certainly cause (.31-2) gangrene. 576.30: “down their laddercase of nightwatch service:” ships’ stairs, including staircases, are called ladders. (“Laddercase:” also, latter case.) Ships at sea have round-the-clock watches, usually of four hours each; two of them are from midnight to four a.m. and from four a.m. to eight a.m.; given “suntime” (.31) this one is probably the latter. See first note to .31. 576.31-2: “at suntime flush with the nethermost gangrung:” it’s always darkest before the dawn. 576.31: “suntime flush:” rosy-fingered dawn 576.31: “flush with the nethermost gangrung:” pink/red and (“gangrene”) green; red-green is a frequent FW example of opposites (“nethermost”) meeting (“flush with”), at least sometimes for the reason that each produces a chromatic afterimage of the other. Also, flushed flesh can be a sign of health (although in “Aeolus” Bloom thinks, “That hectic flush spells finis for a man”), green or gangrened flesh of the opposite. Compare next entry. 576.31: “nethermost gangrung:” following on “laddercase” (.30), the last (bottom) rung of a ship’s ladder, probably with an overtone of ship’s gangway; the bottom step of the Mullingar House stairs going from third to second floor has been reached. Also, gangrene first attacks the extremities – the nethermost parts of the body, the end of a leg, for instance, and is caused by insufficient blood supply. Here (compare previous note) it may, equal-oppositely, and, because there’s only so much blood in the system as cause-and-effect, be matched with excess of blood in another part of the body. 576.32: “stepchildren:” echo of (stair) steps 576.33: “samilikes:” take your pick: they are the same, or similar, or alike, or maybe just semi-alike. (Oxford editors have “semilikes.”) 576.33-4: “hedge them bothways from all roamers whose names are ligious:” prayer to Saint Michael; occurs twice in Ulysses and several times in FW (for instance 222.23-4); in “Lotus-Eaters” is recited as, “Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the hour of conflict. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil (may God restrain him, we humbly pray!): and do thou, O prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God thrust Satan down to hell and with him those wicked spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls.” 576.34: “roamers…ligious:” Roman legions 576.34: “are ligious:” a religious – a member of a religious order 576.34-5: “from loss of bearings deliver them; so they keep to their rights:” 1. Although the British Isles and some of its former dominions are exceptions, in most countries, motorists keep (bear) to the right. 2. Finnegan, who “fell from a ladder and broke his skull,” lost his bearings. 3. Given the recent nautical notes, this refers to Ursa Major and Ursa Minor - bear bearings - critical to nighttime navigation: two stars in the former are “pointers” to Polaris, last in the tail of the latter. Joyce’s familiarity with such matters has shown up several times already: 57.1, 163.26, 267.23 and .27, 342.35-343.2, 426.24-5. 576.36: “jinnyjones:” Jimmy Joyce. There seem to be more near-namings of the author in this chapter than in any other: compare 563.7, 565.14, 566.6, 575,26, 583.17, and 588.8. 577.1: “wiffeyducky:” ducky: British term of affection – here, for the wife 577.1: “Morionmale:” a morion – helmet – was a feature of Spanish armor (that is, mail). 577.1-2: “Morionmale and Thrydacianmad:” McHugh and Oxford editors both change to “Thyrdacianemade.” Man (male) and maid; also, “Thracian maid” is an epithet for Proserpina. Also, another figure by the same name: “Thales was studying the stars and gazing into the sky, when he fell into a well, and a jolly and witty Thracian servant girl made fun of him, saying that he was crazy to know about what was up in the heavens while he could not see what was in front of him beneath his feet” – Plato, Theaetetus. Thracians and Dacians are two (related) peoples of ancient Greece. 577.4: “prime white arsenic with bissemate alloyed:” compare “big white harse” (10.11) – HCE, allied to his (German "Bissen," titbit) plus mate 577.5: “lease hold:” leasehold: temporary right to own property 577.6: “stop-that-war and feel-this-feather:” as McHugh notes, a white feather stood for cowardice. During World War I, white feathers were handed out, usually by women, to men of military age not in uniform. The tradition was that a chicken would dodge a fight by “showing the white feather.” In FW, it is usually associated with Shem as draft-dodger: see, for instance, 93.4, 383.13, 443.14, 463.3-4. 577.7: “great gas:” “gas” as in “Counterparts:” mischievous fun 577.8: “grand slam with fall-of-the-trick:” “grand slam” and “trick” are both terms from both whist and contract bridge; the former happens when a player takes all thirteen tricks. Echo of phrase “fall of the cards” – one’s luck in cards and everything else 577.8-9: “solemn one and shebby:” Solomon was famously grand and wealthy – the opposite of shabby. 577.9: “cod and coney:” male “cod” (in codpiece) and female (French “con”) cunt. Also, to cod a coney is to hoax or play a joke on what Americans would call a sucker. 577.10-11: “royal biber but constant lymph:” “but” because bibbers/imbibers drink liquor, and lymph is water. 577.11: “boniface and bonnyfeatures:” in “Eumaeus,” Stephen translates “Bonaparte” as “goodbody.” This lucky gent is both good-looking and in great shape. 577.13: “humanity’s fahrman by society leader:” farmer – salt-of-the-earth type - and (perhaps) labor foreman, counterpointed with socialite 577.14: “humpered with elf:” 111 is ALP’s number – in I.8 the total number of her children and of the gifts she gives them; three as Roman numeral III; joined at 120- degree angles the shape of her signature delta. Also, HCE and ALP together – Humphrey and the “weeniequeenie” of .2 577.15: “basal curse yet grace abunda:” base and grace: extremes of human nature. Theologically, we are, or ought to be, irredeemably cursed by Original Sin, but can be saved by God’s abounding grace. A distinctly Protestant doctrine: Bunyan’s Grace Abounding, noted by McHugh, is an influential Protestant document. Compare note to 597.23. Also, “basal” as bottom layer, (“abunda”) abounding as a leap from it 577.15-6: “Regies Producer with screendoll Vedette:” perhaps obvious: casting-couch scenario. “Screendoll:” female idol of the (silver) screen 577.17: “cliffscaur grisly but rockdove cooing:” rock doves got their name from roosting on mountain cliffs; HCE is often a hill or mountain. “Scaur,” says OED, is an obsolete Scottish term for cliff. Possible that “grisly” should make us think of (grizzly) bear’s growling, counterpointing dove’s cooing – aggression versus lovey-dovey 577.17: “hodinstag on fryggabet:” Odin and Friga as male and female deities; married, it seem a good bet that they frigged, (“-abet”) in bed. 577.18: “feme…dishcover:” compare “feme covert” (564.3). McHugh: “(law): woman under cover or protection of her husband.” Also, in animal husbandry, a male “covers” a female when he mates with her. Compare next entry. 577.18-9: “that he may dishcover her, that she may uncouple him, that one may come and crumple them, that they may soon recoup themselves: now and then, time on time again, as per periodicity:” sounds like a version of a Viconian cycle. Developmentally, rampant promiscuity ends when thunder puts the fear of God into humans, like Adam and Eve discovered in their sinful selves, and they retreat into caves, where they becomes coupled in marriage. The third stage is decline-and-death, the fourth stage (in Joyce’s version) a recycling. This happens time and time again. 577.21: “Neaves:” Neave’s: a brand of baby food; mentioned in “Cyclops” 577.22: “Hearths of Oak to Skittish Widdas:” “Heart of Oak:” anthem of the British Royal Navy, stands for steadfastness – the opposite of skittishness. Also, naval warfare was dangerous business, leaving a lot widows, by empty hearths. 577.23: “hyber:” probable echo of “Hibernian” 577.23: “via mala:” by way of evil 577.23-9: “via mala…coddlam:” this sequence in particular describes the couple’s progress as a universal inundation; see note to .26, below. 577.23: “heckhisway:” HCE’s (would once have been written “HCE his”) highway. In I.2, HCE was introduced as a turnpike keeper. Also, with “heck” as an American dodging-the-curse word for Hell, “highway to hell” 577.23-4: “landsvague:” vague being French for wave, this may be read as flood, covering the land. Compare notes to .25-6, .26. 577.24: “after many mandelays:” expression: after many delays 577.25: “cozenkerries:” Ireland’s County Kerry; according to T. J. Barrington’s 1999 book Discovering Kerry, “Kerry cousins” (some sources have “Kerry-cousins”) was a term for the results of close intermarriage. 577.25: “the high and the by:” high and dry, by and by 577.25-6: “both pent and plain:” originally a pent was a place of enclosed water. 577.26: “cowslips yillow, yellow yallow:” pertinent that the source (given by McHugh) is a poem about fleeing an imminent flood resulting from a break in a sea wall; the speaker here is urging someone to get away fast from the flower-covered shore. (See note to .23-24.) 577.26-27: “cowslips yillow yellow yallow past pumpkins pinguind, purplesome:” cowslips are yellow, yallows are yellow-orange, pumpkins are orange. (And, if “yillow” is a portmanteau for yellow willow, willows are green but turn yellow in Autumn.) Also, pumpkins are “pinguid,” fat. 577.29-30: “unterlinnen:” underlinen 577.30: “ca canny:” Scots dialect (occurs as such in “Lotus-Eaters”) for someone who moves deliberately and shrewdly 577.31: “in sackcloth silkily:” opposite extremes of coarse and silky clothes; also self-mortification vs. self-indulgence 577.32-3: “plagiast dayman, playajest dearest, plaguiest dourest:” given the theatrical theme in this sequence, it’s probably relevant that Elizabethan theatres, including Shakespeare’s, were sometimes closed down in times of plague. Also, Robert Greene accused Shakespeare of plagiarism. 577.33: “strangfort:” according to Bonheim, German for hangman’s rope. Fits context 577.34: “dryflooring:” drying-loft: used by farmers, i.e. (.33) “planters” 577.34-5: “the leperties’ laddos railing the way:” and the lads of the Liberties railing away. “The Liberties” is an ancient working-class area of Southwest Dublin, here combined with a leper colony. Given counterpoint with “dryflooring” (dry-footing: walking), “railing” may indicate riding on a train. 577.36: “Stop! Did a stir? No, is fast. On to bed!:” compare 576.10-7, especially “To bed.” As in Shakespeare, the “a” here is “he.” The interval has apparently been frozen in time. 577.36: “So he is:” that is, “fast,” that is, safe 577.36-578.1: “It’s only the wind on the road…:” referring to the “whew whewwhew whew” of 576.9. Either that, that is, or the sound of snoring. See next entry. 578.1: “shivering shanks:” because it’s cold. The time just before dawn is the coldest of the day or night, and the bedroom fire is at its lowest. Also, for an indefinite period, HCE has apparently gotten out of the bed, with its “fullyfleeced” blankets (.10). 578.2: “snorring:” see 576.9 and note. Again (see first note to 577.36) the narrative is taking up where it left off, before the stop-time interval of 576.14-577.35. 578.4: “king of the yeast:” yeast rises. So, in the song, does Finnegan, so does the froth on a glass of porter (because of the yeast), and so, in various guises, does (e.g. 240.5) and will HCE. At this juncture, the rising is also erectile. 578.4-5: “chrismy greyed brunzewig, with the snow in his mouth:” greying brownish (bronze) hair, white moustache – again, showing up in the light of a new day. On Google Books, an 1879 text mentions George III’s “well-known Brunswick wig.” (Well-known or not, that is the only mention I could find.) 578.5: “caspian:” gasping 578.5-6: “Relics of pharrer and livite:” play on expression “relics of old decency” – here of positions of authority in state (pharaoh) and church (levite). See next entry. Reiterated with allusion to (Harryng…wollsey” (.7)) Henry the Eight and Cardinal Wolsey 578.6: “pharrer and livite:” pfarrer (German for parson) and levite – Hebrew priest 578.6-7: “Dik Gill, Tum Lung or Macfinnan’s cool Harrying:” neither fish, flesh (gross perhaps, but people eat animal (“Lung”) lungs, for instance in haggis) nor good red herring – expression, meaning neither one thing nor another; occurs in “Cyclops.” (Also, see note to .5-6.) 578.7: “hedcosycasket:” McHugh has teacosy – which, in some cases anyway, may resemble a nightcap, and would help explain why the usually white-haired HCE should (compare .4-5 and note), just this once, have brown hair. In “An Encounter,” a boy wears a teacosy on his head. 578.8: “shirtplisse:” besides surplice, nightshirt 578.8-9: “his feet wear doubled width socks for he almost must to insure warm sleep:” to keep his feet warm in bed, he habitually wears two pairs of socks for his (“feet wear”) footwear – double-width (“doubled width”), presumably, because he is so fat. Early morning in March in Ireland, no central heating and the fireplace fire gone down or out – it’s cold. 578.10: “finnoc:” McHugh glosses as white trout – in which case the “bankers” of .10 are the river’s banks. 578.10: “finnoc in a cauwl:” O Hehir: maiden in a cape. Also, compare Portrait: Stephen in bed “making a cowl of the blanket” – again, it’s cold. As Finn McCool, long asleep in a cave, he’s about to awaken. If – see previous entry – he’s in a river instead, not to worry: not only is he a fish, but cauls are supposed to be a guarantee against drowning. 578.10: “Misthra:” see entry for .10, and McHugh. Mithra is traditionally represented as wearing a cape. 578.12: “Hecklar’s champion ethnicist.:” taken literally, this would make him something like the citizen of “Cyclops,” the (ex)champion Irish ethnicist heckling Bloom. An ethnicist is to ethnicity what a racist is to race. On the other hand, in the I.2-I.3 sequence about to be remembered, the heckler was Hosty, HCE’s enemy. On the other other hand, Hosty is to some extent HCE equal-opposite alter ego. 578.12-3: “How deft as a fuchser schouws daft as a fish:” expression: crazy (daft) like a fox. Also, foxes might, more or less, be called deft. “Deaf as a fish” – also “deaf as a haddock” – is/was an occasional if infrequent expression. In fact, fish have no ears but can pick up sounds with internal organs. 578.13: “dibble’s own doges:” expression: devil’s own dog – that is, someone behaving disreputably. “Doges” is probably another reference to his headwear – Venetian doges, as in Bellini’s portrait, have distinctive caps. 578.14: “But a jolly fine daysent:” leading a “doubling existents” (.14) of the Jekyll-Hyde sort (see 589.15-7), he is still a good (decent, with an Irish accent) sort of fellow in the daylight. 578.14: “doublin existents:” like Bloom/Odysseus, Finnegan/Finn leads a double existence in Dublin. 578.15: “He’s rounding up:” mainly, he’s rounding up, as in the usual suspects, but also, at times he’s depicted as being fat to the point of globularity. 578.16: “bodikin:” Hamlet’s bare bodkin, plus a diminutive body 578.16-28: “And…hair:” covering a period when husband and wife are both upright and in each other’s company, much of this paragraph describes their movements in the language of dance. (It will be followed (578.29-579.25) by a sequence about the two of them paired off, which will end with “Let earwigger’s wivable teach you the dance” (579.24-5). The language generally recalls the gossipy dialogue of the two washerwomen of I.8. 578.16: “So voulzievalsshie:” child-talk-like mixing of English/French/German: So voulez-vous waltz? The rest of paragraph follows through with descriptions of ALP’s waltzing, dancing, hopping, gyrating. (Also, again: see 579.24-5.9.) 578.18: “she’s looping the lamp:” “waltz” derives from Old High German walzan: to turn, roll. “Loop the loop” is, among other things, a dance move. Here, and for most of the rest of the chapter, ALP is still holding onto the lamp she took upstairs. Perhaps also an overtone of “trick of the loop” – in “Cyclops,” a woman having sex 578.19: “Well:” an ALP signature 578.19: “Well well, wellsowells!:” sardonic comment of mock-astonishment on how the formerly matronly “missness wipethemdry” – toweling her children – is suddenly carrying on – again, on the dance floor 578.19: “wellsowells:” echoing “voulzievalsshie” (.16): two “waltzes.” 578.19: “Donauwatter:” McHugh notes that Donau is German for the Danube – as in, I would add, “The Beautiful Blue Danube Waltz.” 578.20: “Ardechious me!:” Gracious me! (Compare the washerwomen’s “Mersey me!” (208.36). Also, since “His Grace” is the proper term for archbishops, “Ardechious” might serve for archdeacons. 578.20: “Archdechious…peahen:” at Zurich’s Pfauen Restaurant, Joyce’s favorite drink was Fendant de Sion, which he called the “Archduchess’s urine.” 578.20: “halfbend:” more dancing: ballet’s demi-plié, or half-bend at the knees 578.20: “as proud as a peahen:” female equivalent of “as proud as a peacock.” She is showing off, too. 578.22: “steptojazyma’s culunder buzztle:” steatopgygic; cul (French for anus); buzztle: bustle. (Also, a colander could plausibly work as a makeshift bustle.) Attention is drawn to ALP’s large (or perhaps just strikingly mobile) rump. Echoes of “jazz” and perhaps “mama” may draw on stereotype for African-American women. (Previous line had “allabalmy,” and Alabamy Bound” was a hit song for blackface performer Al Jolsen.) “Step to it” occurs fairly frequently in descriptions, accounts, etc. of dance, for instance with a still-extant Step To It Dance Studio. 578.22-3: “Happy tea area, naughtygay frew!:” see McHugh. A German gentleman asking a lady (albeit for now a naughty, gay one) to dance. Also, to my ear this sounds like the chorus of the popular American square-dance song, “Skip, Skip, Skip to my Lou.” 578.23-4: “Selling sunlit sopes to washtout winches and rhaincold draughts to the props of his pubs:” again, in FW the Mullingar House includes both a store – here, selling Sunlight Soap – and a pub. (Also, as mother, “missness wipethemdry” (.19), she often makes use of soap and water.) The women, older ex-wenches, are buying soap at one; the men are buying beer, on draught, at the other. (Irish pubs in Joyce’s time would have been virtually men-only; later, any female drinking would have been in an adjoining “lounge.”) 578.24: “lipping the swells:” kissing the swells (fashionable men); leaping the swells (high waves) – given the dance theme dominating this paragraph, probably another high-stepping dance move. Simultaneously, ALP as River Liffey with swelling waves. Compare next entry. 578.25: “jumped the boom:” 1. Some harbors, especially military ones, have booms – cables – drawn across the entrance. Vessels with deep drafts are unable to “jump the boom.” Leaping the swells (see previous entry) would presumably be a help. 2. “Jumping the broom” is a tradition in some wedding ceremonies, including those of African-Americans. In Great Expectations, Magwitch and Estella’s mother have been married “over the broomstick” – a “tramping” term for common-law marriages. 578.26-7: “she’s borrid his head under Hatesbury’s Hatch and loamed his fate to old Love Lane:” Compare 11.17, where Biddy has “burrowed the coacher’s headlight.” Here, ALP has buried HCE’s head (among other things, under his hat) and also buried his feet (with heavy Irish accent, pronounced “fate:” the same pun occurs in “Nausicaa”), covering the latter with loam, in two different, indeterminably far-apart locations. (Mink lists several “Love Lane”s in Dublin’s history, and suggests a variation on “Livius Lane” (260.9, 13), Anna Livia as river and a road running alongside it, which would help account for the “Allalivial, allalluvial” (213.32) loam.) A variation on 7.28-32, where Finn’s buried body stretches alongside the course of the Liffey from Howth to Phoenix Park. Replacing “Hate-“ with “Love” goes with “burying the hatchet,” noted by McHugh. 578.27-8: “haporth of dripping:” in Victorian-Edwardian literature, “pennyworth of dripping” signifies a starvation diet – next to nothing. Here, half that 578.29: “brennt her hair:” compare the “auburnt streams” of ALP’s hair, (123.23-4), clearly a reference to Nora Barnacle’s auburn hair. Two possible added meanings: 1. Hair was curled with hot irons in beauty parlors, sometimes to give an (appropriately, in this case, for a river goddess) “wavy,” e.g. “marcellawave” (204.23) look. This is a sign of ALP’s apparently successful effort, for a while anyway, to make herself look desirable. 2. Or, equally oppositely, the reverse: her hair has turned ash-gray. 578.29-30: “Amen Corner:” a part of the congregation from which the sermon-giver can always expect an Amen. More generally, a reliable go-alonger 578.30-2: “The solvent man in his upper gambeson withnot a breth against him and his wee wiping womanahoussy:” resumes husband-wife pairings of 576.18-577.31. “Solvent” in sense of not being in debt, the husband is eminently respectable; as woman of the house she is his equal; on the other hand, as a hussy, she is his inferior. (On the other other hand, “hussy” was originally just a shortened version of “housewife.”) Compare “misses wipethemdry” (.19). 578.31: “without a breth against him:” with “breth” as “breath,” this says that no one has anything negative to say about him. This contradicts, or reverses, 205.20-2, when everyone “had a skunner against him” – that is (McHugh) was disgusted with him. In general, almost everyone in FW has something bad to say about the male principal. 578.32-3: “diamond wedding tour:” the Diamond Anniversary is the sixtieth. “Coming through” that, they must be pretty old, and the ongoing attempt at marital ardor is definitely a case of attempting to turn back the clock (579.5). 578.33: “giant’s inchly elfkin’s ell:” incorporates expression “Give them an inch and they’ll take an ell.” Oxford editors and McHugh have “inch by.” One of several pairings in this sequence emphasizing HCE’s size compared to ALP’s: one of his inches equals 45 of hers. 578.36: “konyglik:” as “kingly,” German königlich pairs with “queensh.” (Oxford editors have “queenish.”) 579.1: “Dunmow’s flitcher with duck-on-the-rock:” see McHugh. Like many items in this long list of pairings, a set of opposites – a happy marriage contrasted with a marriage “on the rocks.” Also, duck-on-a-rock is a children’s game. 579.2: “down the scales, the way they went up:” another set of opposites: when one end of the scales declines, the other goes up; also, scala, Italian for ladder, ladder (see 576.30, 576.31 and note) being shipboard talk for stairs: down the stairs after going up the stairs 579.3-5: in addition to the proliferation of theatrical terms glossed by McHugh, “sliders” can be parts of an apparatus used in the dimming of stage lights, and a “reveal” can, especially in magic-show performances, be a turning point when things suddenly supposedly become clear. 579.4-5: “from Elder Arbor to La Puirée:” old to (puerile) young 579.5: “eskipping the clockback, crystal in carbon:” turn the clock back far enough and a diamond is just a lump of coal, albeit beginning to turn into crystal. 579.6-7: “Hot and cold and electrickery with attendance and lounge and promenade free:” an ad for the Mullingar House in its previous capacity as an inn. (In “The Dead,” set in 1904, the Gresham Hotel’s (temporarily out of order) electric lighting was the latest thing, promoted in its advertising.) For “lounge,” see note to 578.23-4. 579.8: “boot:” in archaic sense of cure or make better 579.8: “Bolt the grinden. Cave and can em.” Christiani cites an Ibsen poem in which the “grinden,” garden gate, is shut to seclude a newlywed couple – presumably (“em”) them - from the narrator. (Oxford editors have “cane” for “can.”) 579.9: “double axe for the mail:” Postmen knocked twice. 579.10: “Renove that bible:” the partial quotation from Cromwell (see McHugh) strikes yet another Protestant note, if an ironic one – Cromwell’s followers, often Bible-quoting fanatics, would have been the last to want it removed. (“Renove,” glossed by McHugh as Portuguese for “renew,” may be pointing in an equal-opposite direction: Read the Bible, again and anew!) 579.10-11: “You will never have post in your pocket unless you have brasse on your plate:” brass plate on the door giving postman the address, thus assuring delivery. Also, with “brass” as slang for money, C.O.D. postage (compare 102.34). More generally, brassy behavior is showily self-promoting – obnoxious, perhaps, but sometimes it works. Perhaps also a church’s collection plate. (French brasse, a breast stroke, doesn’t seem to apply. McHugh, but not the Oxford editors, has “brass” instead.) 579.12: “Beggards outdoor:” Beggars and/or braggarts, outdoors! Get out! 579.12: “Goat to the Endth, thou slowguard:” see previous. Telling the beggars outdoors to go away (to the ends of the earth, in fact), to cease being beggars and become industrious like the ant(s). (Also, separating the sheep from the goats.) From (at least) this point on until (at least) .26, every or almost every item reflects an attitude of hard-nosed social-Darwinist Gospel-of-Wealth capitalism: make money or be damned. With a nod to Max Weber, it may not be coincidental that this strain began at about the point (.10) where the arch-Protestant Oliver Cromwell was heard from. As (McHugh) echo of “Go to the ant, thou sluggard,” it signals FW’s version of the fable of the ant and the grasshopper (414.22-419.10), with essentially the same establishment moral as, immediately following, (“the Monks and their Grasps” (.13)) the Mookse and the Gripes fable of 152.15-159.23. Both are at home in this paragraph’s message that those who are top deserve to be there. 579.12-3: “Mind the Monks and their Grasps:” spoken like the original British Protestant, Henry VIII, giving a rationale for his plundering of the monasteries, with their grasping monks. Also, the grapes of the fox and the grapes, basis of “The Mookse and the Gripes” – see previous entry. 579.13: “Scrape your souls:” soles/souls: cleanliness is next to Godliness. More Protestantism, of a distinctively Puritanical kind 579.14: “Postpone no bills:” pay your bills on time 579.15-6: “Let leash the dooves to the cooin her coynth:” coynth:” cunt. A – to say the least – irreverent version of Mary’s impregnation by the dove of the Holy Ghost. Also, Noah’s letting loose of the dove, after the (“raabers” (.14-5)) raven failed to return. “Cooin:” doves coo. 579.16-7: “Share the wealth and spoil the weal:” more hard-core Social Darwinist capitalism 579.17: “Peg the pound to tom the devil:” First Google Books instance of “peg the pound” – that is, setting its value in relation to some other country’s or countries’ currency – appears in a 1921 issue of The Nation. Pegging it to “tom the devil” does not sound like sound fiscal policy. 579.17-8: “My time is on draught. Bottle your own:” in the pub, draft versus bottled beer. Also, possibly includes sense of a bank draught – time is money, “dime is cash” (161.6). 579.18-9: “Earn before eating. Drudge after drink. Credit tomorrow. Follow my dealing:” pub policy: cash upfront required for meals; very short-term credit allowed for drinks (comic convention had deadbeats washing dishes to pay off the bill); credit will be restored afterwards; this is our policy: take it or leave it. The next five entries in the sequence are in the same vein. Again (see .12 and note) the words of a triumphantalist capitalist/monopolist 579.20: “Buy not from dives:” dives: Americanism for low-class drinking joints. The proprietor is disparaging his competitors. Also, McHugh: Latin for rich. Perhaps most pertinently, it is the name of the rich man in Jesus’ parable of Lazarus and Dives (Luke 16:19-31). 579.20: “Herenow chuck english and learn to pray plain:” plain, as in Flann O’Brien’s “A pint of plain is your only man,” is stout. Admonition: buy this, the real-deal Irish item, not (to take an example from “Sirens”) something like the English Bass Ale which has ruined the Irishman Ben Dollard. (Compare, in “Telemachus,” Mulligan to Stephen: “Chuck Loyola.”) At junction between publican’s and preacher’s messages, also a religious directive to leave (high-church) Anglicanism and pray in a more straightforward low-church way: the CE of HCE identified by McHugh in “Herenow chuck english” can stand for “Church of England.” See note to .23, below. 579.22: “Practise preaching:” traditionally, Protestantism has emphasized pulpit over altar. Although Catholic priests deliver homilies, preaching has predominantly Protestant associations. Also: Practise what you preach, with the emphasis reversed 579.22: “Think in your stomach:” compare “Think in my stom,” Bloom’s words in “Sirens,” imagining psychic connection with a barmaid. Perhaps comes from Mesmeric belief that the solar plexus is the center of such connections. Also, along with “Lean on your lunch” (.21), something like, Rely on your gut feeling. 579.22-3: “Import through the nose:” pay through the nose: compare “paythronosed” (32.12). In a passage including recommendations pertaining to commerce, this may be advocating high tariffs on imports. 579.23: “By faith alone:” again – see first note to .22 – a Protestant doctrine. Forget good works – our only chance of salvation is through grace. The Christianity prominent in these pages is Protestant. HCE is an Anglican. 579.23: “By faith alone…Gomorrha:” “faith and gaborrah:” a stage-Irish tag line 579.24: “Lots feed from my tidetable:” 1. Lots of people feed from my table. (Trickle-down beneficence from someone who, again, has done very well for himself. Possible overtone of side-table, either for a buffet for guests or as the surface from which servants carry dishes.) 2. A (“Lots feed”) feedlot on the property would be yet another sign of prosperity. Lot, a prosperous man, owned many livestock. His home was Sodom – the “Salong” (.24) noted by McHugh, along with “Gomorrha” (.23) – usually spelled “Gomorrah” -one of the sinful cities of the plain. 579.24: “tidetable:” tide tables list future low and high tides – essential knowledge for those engaged in nautical commerce 579.24: “Oil’s wells in our lands:” if we have oil wells on our lands, then all is indeed well. See 580.7 and note. 579.25: “earwigger’s wivable:” “’-s wivable:” swiveable: fuckable 579.25: “teach you the dance!:” again: since 578.16 the two have been pairing up, with frequent comparisons to dancing. 579.27: “bedded and buckled:” in “Oxen of the Sun,” “buckled” is slang for married. This seems to say that they went to bed prior to getting married; other testimony concurs. 579.27-8: “got and gave:” as in Wordsworth’s “getting and spending” of money 579.29: “turned them, tarrying to the sea:” Oxford editors put a comma after “tarrying” – which makes me wonder whether “them” should be “then.” 579.29: “planted and plundered:” to many Irish, the Protestant planters were plunderers. 579.30: “pawned our souls:” at least preferable to selling them 579.30-1: “pillaged the pounds of the extramurals:” “pounds” in the sense of cattle enclosures; “extramurals” are those outside the English Pale, therefore vulnerable to (cattle) raids – to having their pounds pillaged. A Robin-Hood-in-reverse scenario, and as such an extreme version of the predatory capitalism running through this sequence: the haves are plundering the have-nots. 579.31: “fought and feigned with strained relations:” had some difficult times with the relatives 579.32: “bequeathed us their ills:” as in, the sins of the fathers are visited on the next generation. 579.32: “recrutched cripples gait:” at last, a gesture of charity: he gave a new crutch to a cripple to help his gait while walking. (“Cripple’s Gate” is folk-etymology for London’s Cripplegate.) 579.33-4: “manplanting seven sisters while wan warmwooed woman scrubbs:” having sex with multiple young women while the old wife, in her time warmly wooed, is reduced to a household drudge – as with the Ondt, a privilege of wealth. The seven sisters of the Pleiades were objects of desire to the nearby Orion. 579.34-5: “turned out coats and removed their origins:” items in an opportunist’s progress: turncoats, turning their backs on where they came from. Compare “laid out lashings of laveries to hunt down his family ancestors and then pled double trouble or quick quits to hush the buckers up” (134.3-4). 580.1: “wayleft the arenotts:” left the are-nots (same class as have-nots) by the wayside. Also, aeronauts, perhaps being waylaid as a general administrative crackdown 580.1: “ponted vodavalls:” bridged Russian бодa, (water), plus falls: waterfalls. Sounds nice, but apparently he did it for the purpose of “zollgebordened” (.2) – collecting import duties. 580.2: “liquidation:” given previous and following entry, drowning. Given context in general, this probably also carries its financial sense. 580.2-3: “by the heirs of their death:” by the hairs of their heads: lifeguards are trained to grab drowning swimmers by the hair. 580.4: “werfed:” German werfen, to throw 580.4: “Peter’s sawyery:” Joyce thought, incorrectly, that Peter (not Jonathan) Sawyer founded Dublin, Georgia. 580.6: “looked haggards after lazatables:” see note to 579.20, above. Lazarus was the starving man hoping to eat the scraps from Dives’ table; “haggard” (OED, definition 4) means half-starved. 580.7: “struck rock oil:” “rock oil” is what Americans call oil; to strike oil is to become suddenly rich. Compare 579.24 and note. 580.8: “Toobiassed and Zachary:” in Foxe’s Book of Martyrs, a preacher is remembered as having cited “Tobias and Zachary” as exemplars of “perseverance in the true worshipping of God.” 580.9-10: “roused up drink and poured balm down:” as publican, he pumped beer up from below and poured it into glasses, to the gratification of his customers. Compare 310.35-311.2, 560.8-9. 580.10-1: “bit the dust:” died suddenly. A phrase associated with American westerns – gunfights and such. Compare 4.11-2 and note. 580.11-2: “gave up his goat:” in which case, the other party got his goat. 580.13: “wend it back:” wind (turn) back the clock. Compare 579.4-5: “eskipping the clockback.” (Hans Gabler has persuasively proposed a chiastic structure for Portrait, and a similar if more complicated case might be made for FW; see note to 403.1-4. Certainly this chapter keeps returning to the matter of the book’s opening, especially the park scandal.) 580.14: “bullseaboob and rivishy divil:” sounds like a version of the rape of Europa – Zeus as bull carrying her into the sea and ravishing her. 580.14: “rivishy divil:” ravishing, as compliment - applied, predominantly, to women. “Divil” is most often a jocose term of affection for a child. Paired with (“bullseaboob”) Beelzebub, two kinds of not-serious devils 580.14: “light in hand:” ALP, the “rivishy divil,” was the one carrying the light upstairs, in the process poking holes (with a (“durk” (.15)) dirk, through the dark) of light (“peekaboo” (.15)) in “the thicket of slumbwhere” (.15). Again, ALP is still holding the lamp. 580.15: “peekaboo:” a game adults play with infants. Adult hides face behind hands, then drops hands and says “Peekaboo!” (This is doubtless obvious to many, but the word seems to be originally and still mainly American.) See above entry: ALP’s lamp is playing peekaboo in the dark. 580.15: “slumbwhere:” somewhere in slumberland 580.15-6: “their scene be struck:” in theatre talk, the crew “strikes the scene” when it removes the stage props. 580.16: “the book of the dates:” almanac/calendar. (The words can sometimes be used interchangeably; both list the days of the year.) See .24 and note. 580.17: “he clasp and she:” he clasping she 580.17: “she seegn her tour d’adieu:” compare 28.29: “the night she signs her final tear:” the end of the letter, the end of the book. (Still, as Bloom remarks in “Eumaeus,” actress’s farewell tours are seldom really final.) Note “tea” in “tear:” the FW letter ends with a tea stain, and FW’s last word, “the,” is, with an accent over the “e,” French for tea. At 159.13, Issy signs of with a “singult tear.” There are other intimations that the water used to brew FW’s tea is from tears. 580.18: “(O Sheem! O Shaam!):” again, shame from the primal scene. The biblical Ham saw his father’s nakedness, and here, as in II.3 when the object of interest was the mother’s nakedness, Shaun is made complicit. FW often amalgamates Noah’s two outcast brothers, Shem and Ham – here, as “Shaam.” 580.18-9: “and gentle Isad Ysut gag, flispering in the nightleaves flattery, dinsiduously:” Issy’s whispering voice, as often in FW, as heard by the father. Your annotator believes that 1. HCE hears this through the flue of the chimney his room shares with Issy’s upstairs, and 2. Issy’s whispering sometimes mingles with the sound of the elmtree next to her window, the “loftleaves elm” of 265.4, here with its “nightleaves” “flispering” in the wind. Elm trees are (“dinsiduously”) deciduous. Compare “Circe,” where the swaying “YEWS” sigh “deciduously.” 580.21: “the first grey streaks:” of approaching dawn – this is FW’s night-to-dawn chapter - but also possibly ALP’s hair, newly visible in the morning light. Compare 578.29 and note. Of course, it may just be that the grey is from the “silvering” (.21) pre-dawn light. 580.23ff: “They near…:” by this point, the narrative voice has shifted from gossip to reportage, verging on the voyeuristic, merging into the hostile crowd of I.2 that thronged outside HCE’s window; at the end, it broke through and “flooded” the precincts (580.33). 580.24: “nine hosts in himself:” 1. I suggest an echo here of “mine host” or Mein Host, a common term for innkeepers, and, I think (see 13.6-8 and note) possibly the title of the pub’s almanac picture. 2. Along with HCE as the inn’s host, a reminder that his alter-ego assailant was “Hosty.” “Hosts” can be a collective term for hostile armies. 3. Possibly a variant on the saying, present elsewhere in FW (317.27) “It takes nine tailors to make a man.” The courtship rivalry recounted in II.3 is mainly between a tailor and a sailor. (The sailor wins.) In song and story, a tailor is often a diminutive, negligible man. 580.25: “himself:” again, ironic Irish usage. See 197.32 and note. 580.25: “limfy:” lymph: poetic term for pure water. Also, in context, limping: Nora Barnacle Joyce suffered from arthritis, increasing with age, and one of the washerwomen has a “limpopo limp” (214.28). 580.28: “busynext man:” a business man and a busybody 580.28: “cop:” manservant as policeman. Here he is on his beat, outside, noticing the lamplight and shadows from the bedroom window, and feeling suspicious. Compare “O, O, her fairy setalite! Casting such shadows to Persia's blind! The man in the street can see the coming event” (583.14-5). 580.29: “the lamp that shadows the walk:” as before (e.g. 559.20ff) a moving lamp would create shifting shadows on the wall and, outside, the sidewalk. 580.30: “volunteers’ plate:” presumably a collection plate, for (voluntary) donations. Perhaps also an allusion to the “Volunteer Plate,” according to various sources “the silver Mass Plate which belonged to the Edinburgh troops of the now long ago disbanded Midlothian Yeomanry” 580.30: “croppied the ears of Purses Relle:” 1. Earwigs get their name from the belief that they burrowed into – here, (“croppied”) crept into – the skull by way of the ear. It is ironically fitting that this should happen to someone whose name is the French version of Earwig. 2. Cropping (cutting off) ears was an Elizabethan punishment – again, especially appropriate for FW’s Pierce O’Reilly/perce-oreille, French for earwig. (“Purses” may bring in cut-purses, Elizabethan pickpockets, also being duly punished.) 3. Croppies: Irish rebels of 1798, with close-cropped heads 580.32: “the busker that grattaned his crowd:” “grattaned:” gladdened. This busker is a crowd-pleaser. 580.33: “the rann that flooded the routes:” the rann of pp. 43-4 is also accompanied by a flood. 580.36: “leud and lay:” lord and lady 581.1-14: “Anyhow…frost?:” remembers 370.30-380.5: the customers (the “sullivan’s” (.4)), ejected at closing time and unhappy about it, grudgingly heading for home while cursing the publican who made them leave. 581.3-4: “vengeance vective volleying…crashing libels:” in fact, some hang around long enough to throw – volley – some rocks at him, crashing through his window with the sound of breaking glass. Compare 44.17-21. For “libels,” compare “the libel in the battle” (bottle) – which according to both McHugh and Oxford editors should be included at 9.1. Various confused and contradictory accounts of the libel, sometimes delivered by bottle, come to the fore after the crash, beginning with I.3. Similar charges will be repeated here. 581.5: “renownsable:” equal-oppositely, both renowned and deserving to be renounced 581.5: “Heinz cans everywhere:” note American “cans,” not the normal British equivalent, “tins.” Heinz is an American company. Since 1896 its advertising and labeling has included the (fictitious) slogan “57 Varieties.” Your annotator believes that HCE (“Heinz cans everywhere”) and ALP are in their mid-fifties, she ((“if you can spot fifty I spy four more)” (10.31)) at fifty-four, he “of well over or about fiftysix or so” (443.26), “between fiftyodd and fiftyeven years of age” (380.14) at fifty-six or within that range – here, apparently, up to fifty-seven. There are other approximations given (for instance “He is a man of around fifty” (506.34)), and both parties are prone to remembering themselves at different, usually younger, stages of life, but the fifty-sixty decade seems to be a default constant. The “cans everywhere” constitutes further evidence that HCE’s Mullingar House is a grocery store as well as a pub: compare note to 78.12-3. 581.6-7: “Eyrewaker's family sock that they smuggled to life betune them:” silly for sure, but if the “them” refers to husband and wife, snuggling and, and, as Portrait, smugging – engaging in sex play – then the “family sock” is what “Lotus Eaters” calls Bloom’s “limp father of thousands,” being waked “to life.” 581.7: “Big Reilly:” an inflated Persse O’Reilly, often the leader of HCE’s vilifiers 581.8: “free boose for the man from the nark:” Noah, the man from the ark, invented liquor and got drunk with it. His son Ham was cursed for seeing him (“narked” (34.10)) naked. This sounds like a line from the sarcastic poem against “Mark” – King Mark, a version of HCE – beginning II.4 (383.1-14). 589.9: “his banishee’s bedpan:” unchivalrously, the mob includes HCE’s wife in the indictment – not bedpal but more like a bedpan, and a banshee-like one at that. For “banishee’s,” compare 62.9, where the man, fleeing abroad, “league[s] his lot…with a papishee:” she’s banished, too. 581.10: “tark:” Turk: when applied to a woman, a termagent 581.10: “wivewards:” home to their wives. Also, as bonafides walking eastward from Chapelizod to Dublin, following the course of the Liffey, they are heading wave-wards, toward the sea. 581.11: “vinery:” as vineyard or winery, a pretentious or mock-pretentious term for HCE’s drinking establishment 581.11: “highjacking:” hiking, but also in the criminal sense – this is “through the nagginneck pass” (.11-12) – the kind of site favored by highwaymen. A “naggin” is a bottle, which has a neck: the pass is apparently an exceptionally narrow one. 581.13: “axpoxtelating:” the twelve customers are sometimes identified with the twelve apostles. As such, they are expostulating, probably drunkenly. 581.14: “cowled consollation, sursumcordial, from the bluefunkfires of the dipper:” still thirsty for drink, it’s cold comfort that one of the constellations in the night sky above them resembles a (big) dipper, of the sort used to dispense water. “Bluefunkfires:” compare “Ithaca:” “The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.” 581.14: “martian’s frost:” Mars’ white polar caps were taken to be snow. (As in “Ithaca,” outer space is very cold.) Also, morning – matin’s – frost 581.15ff: “Use they not…:” the focus shifts from the mob outside to the action inside, not without (“A, Dearo, Dearo, dear!” (.20)) some residual disapproval. 581.16: “whose sbrogue cunneth none lordmade undersiding:” general sense: his thick brogue reveals nothing of a gentleman’s enunciation, real or affected. Compare the entries for .18-9 and 19-20. 581.17-8: “how betwixt wifely rule and mens conscia recti:” as McHugh notes, the Latin words are from the Aeneid. In fact they are spoken to Dido by Aeneas, who, following the call of duty, will go on to abandon her and any wifely prospects. In classical commentaries, Aeneas’ choice is one of Mars over Venus, the obligations of destiny over the lures of love and domesticity. 581.18-9: “then hemale male all unbracing to omniwomen, but now shedropping his hitches:” dropping his aitches, a sign of uncouthness – compare next entry. Also, an expression: to hitch up the braces (suspenders) when dressing; here, the opposite, “unbracing” - remembered as boldly unhitching his suspenders (braces) in the act of undressing before her. (Or, actually them – lots of women, although “omni” is surely hyperbolic.) The language here recalls “Circe’’s Virag, going on a sex-mad tangent: “Woman, undoing with sweet pudor her belt of rushrope, offers her allmoist yoni to man's lingam,” etc. Compare entry after next. 581.19-20: “orseriders…idinhole:” see McHugh. An example of (“shedropping his hitches” (.19)) dropping his aitches. (“Hitches,” possibly an overcorrection, exemplifies the opposite.) 581.20-1: “And her illian! And his willyum!:” given context (“hemale” undressing for “omniwoman,” etc.), it seems pertinent that, as in Shakespeare’s Sonnet 135, quoted in “Scylla and Charybdis,” “will” can mean penis, and that, as McHugh notes, the definition of Latin ilium includes “groin.” 581.21-2: “matinmarked for lookin on:” as elsewhere, for example II.4, the four show up to watch the love-making. They are joined by the twins (see .23 and note), who will be “sorry to say I [they] saw” (.25)! 581.22-3: “carryfour with awlus plawshus, their happyass cloudious:” as McHugh says “carryfour” is French carrefour, crossroads. The siglum for the four old men is (see 299, fn. 4) an X. They are routinely accompanied by an (“happyass”) ass – here, perhaps, burdened with carrying all four of them. 581.22-4: “carryfour too the trivials…monomyth:” four, two, three, (“mono-“) one. The phrasing is of an elementary arithmetic lesson. Also, see the entry for 612.26. 581.23: “too the trivials:” the twins. (Again: three and two, in proximity to one another, always or almost always constitute a twins signature.) 581.24-5: “Ah ho! Say no more about it! I’m sorry! I saw. I’m sorry! I’m sorry to say I saw!:” definitely a version of FW’s primal scene – the child or children overseeing the parents having sex, notably featuring the father’s phallic “monomyth” (.24). Here, besides (see previous entry) the boys and (see next entry) Issy, also (see note to .21-2) the four old voyeurs of II.4, including (“Ah ho!”) their ass, braying. Also (see .8 and note) Ham seeing the naked Noah, and possibly (“I saw”) including the Jacob and Esau story, a frequent component of the twins narrative: maybe Esau saw what was happening, but the main thing was that Isaac did not. 581.25: “I saw:” Issy. The whole family is now accounted for. 581.26-36: “Gives…amenable:” the speaker here is a dithering gasbag. His point, to the extent he has one, resembles Gabriel Conroy’s dinner speech: the new generation is all well and good, but the old one – he means HCE - still has something to contribute. (Also, for what it’s worth, we won’t see his like again.) He (it’s probably a he) either slurs or hurries his words. Subject-predicate: “Efficient first [cause: God] gets there” and “may always [get there].” 581.26: “Gives there not too among us:” echoes “Give they not” beginning preceding paragraph (.15), perhaps mocking the opening words, and sentiment, of Scott’s paean to patriotism, “Lives there a man with soul so dead…” It initiates a hair-splitting philosophy-class consideration of similarities and differences attendant on genetic inheritance and, possibly, reincarnation. 581.26: “after all events:” expression: “at all events.” British Isles equivalent of “in any case” 581.26: “grunts:” grants 581.28-9: “concreation:” concrete creation; compare “comming nown from the asphalt to the concrete” (481.12) and the “hard-“ “pasphault” of .30. As McHugh notes, this is accompanied by Aristotelian terminology; the less-concrete Plato will show up soon after (.32-3). 581.30: “pasphault hardhearingness:” being stone deaf. (Though not stony to begin with, asphalt hardens when dry.) 581.31: “eldfar:” Danish for ancient father; compare “mod eldfar” (58.31). 581.32-3: “that…the selfsame:” paired/contrasted with Aristotle (see McHugh on “efficient first” (.29, etc.)), Plato’s terms “the same” and “the other” appear here. 581.33: “such anander:” such another: in general, a phrase used for imagined or wished repeat of some prodigy from the past. Shakespeare’s Cleopatra: “O such another sleep, that I might see / But such another man.” (Antony and Cleopatra, V, ii, 76-7) 581.33-4: “anander and stillandbut one not all the selfsame and butstillone just the maim and encore emmerhim may always with a little difference:” different (another) but somehow the same one, though not the same but still one and the same and again (and at heart), in spite of everything, though maybe a little different… (Philosophy becomes theology: this could come from an attempt to explain the trinity.) 582.4: “gave his best hand into chancerisk:” gave it his best shot, in this case by propagating, despite all the obvious disincentives. Given the family theme here, this may be recalling Francis Bacon – that having children is giving “hostages to fortune.” Also, in 19th century boxing, “getting into chancery” meant having your opponent clasp hold of your head with his arm and hold it to his chest, the better to pummel your face. In general, as in Dickens’ Bleak House, Chancery is a place where you definitely do not want to be. 582.5: “famblings:” 1. fumblings, with (see McHugh) hands. 2. an accidental family 582.7-8: “deaf ear clooshed upon the desperanto of willynully:” ear closed to the desperado who hopes and wishes your annihilation. O Hehir: “clooshed:” Gaelic for ear 582.9: “mar:” marry, with sense that it will be painful or harmful. Compare 232.15: “she’s marrid.” 582.10: “greenmould:” green mould is a fungus, damaging to buildings. Like mildew (.11) is common in wet climates. 582:11-2: “there’s wagtail surtaxed to a testcase on enver a man:” Oxford editors insert “a” before “wagtail.” 1. Wagtail spermatozoa from testes, on a man. (McHugh has “scrotum” for “testcase.”) 2. A test case is a precedent-setting legal case. In that light, “wagtail surtaxed” is on the order of a codicil (for last will and testament) or legal commentary. 3. A surtax is a supplement to a previously established tax. The sins of the fathers are visited on their offspring, and so are their debts. 582.12-27: “We have…she rests.:” approaching FW’s Viconian ricorso, in this paragraph as a reincarnational and regenerational recycling 582.13:” We have to had them whether we’ll like it or not:” that is, as the saying goes, you can choose your friends but not your family. Beginning with .1 (“Yet he begottum.”) part of a grudging concession that a world in which mortals reproduce and die is probably better than the alternative. Compare entry after next. 582.14-6: “Scant hope theirs or ours to escape life’s high carnage of semperidentity by subsisting peasemeal upon variables:” in any case, there’s little chance of avoiding the carnal, carnivorous (“carnage”) nature of existence just by subsisting on pease and similar fare. (“Pease” is/are standard sustenance for hermits, monks, etc - those attempting to renounce the world.) Compare Bloom’s reflection in “Ithaca” on “the necessity of destruction to procure alimentary sustenance.” This sounds like a version of Darwinism – it’s the random mutations, the “variables,” through which one hopes for evolutionary progress. 582.15: “semperidentity:” “Semper Idem,” Latin for “Always the Same,” signifying steadfastness, has been adopted as motto by various individuals and organizations. 582.15-6: subsisting peasemeal upon variables:” vegetarianism (diet of pease, meal, vegetables) rejecting the “carn” – meat, not corn – of “life’s high carnage.” The point is that he can’t do that. 582.17: “ere smellful demise surprends us:” compare 455.13-16: “That's our crass, hairy and evergrim life, till one finel howdiedow Bouncer Naster raps on the bell with a bone and his stinkers stank behind him with the sceptre and the hourglass.” Death is sudden, unexpected, unwelcome, and smelly. In general, the sense is that we’d better take care of some things before then, though exactly what seems obscure. 582.17: “surprends:” besides (McHugh) overtakes and surprises, suspends (our lives) 582.20: “whirled:” Sir John Davies’ Orchestra makes this whirled-world pun. Compare 17.29, 100.29. 582.21-6: “So there was…Youghal:” approaching (see note to .12-27) a new life and leaving their old incarnations behind, the memory of their former romantic selves is already becoming the stuff of legend and folk tale. 582.22: “soddering iron:” As McHugh notes, the “raughty…” of the preceding line refers to Frank Budgen’s song “The Raughty Tinker.” A tinker – tin-worker – would be expected to have a soddering (a.k.a. soldering) iron. Possible implication of “sod,” slang for sodomist or sodomize: in Budgen’s song it’s a definitely heterosexual “meat axe,” penis. 582.24: “rockaby:” as in “Rockabye, baby” (compare 104.6-7). Perhaps responding to “raughty” (.16). (See previous entry.) 582.25: “paved her way:” paid her way 582.25-6: “Maizenhead to Youghal:” there is in fact a train line from Mizen Head, according to Mink Ireland’s most southwesterly point, to the seaport town of Youghal, near Cork. 582.28: “Or show pon him now:” German schaue an: look at. that was him then; let’s look at him now. Compare Bloom in “Lestrygonians” after remembering-reliving the romantic high point of his youth: “Me. And me now.” 582.29: “hiphigh bearserk:” “berserk” probably derives from Icelandic for “bear-coat” (OED). McHugh identifies as “nightshirt,” one meaning of “sark” – here, bunched up to his hips, presumably because the couple is resuming intercourse – he’s going berserk with lust, or looks like he is. 582.29-30: “Third position of concord! Excellent view from front:” Oxford editors put "Luk!" after "concord." Compare “First position of harmony” (559.21), where the couple, “Discovered,” lying parallel to the front of the stage, is seen in “Side point of view,” as if from the audience, with the downstage figure of the man “partly masking” the wife, and the “second position of discordance” (564.1-2), where the couple is seen “rereway,” “from beauhind,” from a spectator looking towards the foot of their bed, with the man’s ponderous (“male entail”) butt (in fact described as elephantine) “partially” eclipsing the (“femecovert”) female. Here we are looking from the opposite direction, with the “excellent view from the front” being toward the head of the bed, looking at the man’s head, his brow (“browbrand”) reddening with the heat of passion – by this point the couple is definitely engaged in vigorous intercourse - with the woman “imperfectly masking male.” I am not clear on what this last “masking” signifies, but on the chapter’s last page, the “fourth position of solution” (590.22-3) will be a “tableau final,” a final, newly sunlit (“Dawn!” (590.25)) “view from horizon,” with both man and woman “unmask”ed (290.24). 582.31: “browbrand:” mark of Cain. In general, the man’s face is flushed. (As, often, was Joyce’s, in his last years. Compare “rory end to the regginbrow was to be seen ringsome on the aquaface” (3.13-4).) 582.32: “That’s the dullakeykongsbyogblagroggerwagginline:” as of 1928, the first tram on the Dalkey, Kingstown, and Blackrock line departed at 7:45 p.m., here being overheard on its way to Lucan. (Compare next entry.) The timetable may have been somewhat different in Joyce’s memory, but in any case this is the morning counterpart to the last tram of the night to Dublin, heard from the Chapelizod station at 328.9-10, about fifteen minutes after the Mullingar House’s pub’s closing time. 582.33: “private judgers, change here for Lootherstown:” Protestants, in this case (“Lootherstown,” compare “luderman” of 21.30) Lutherans, obeying an inner voice as their conscience, as contrasted with (“Onlyromans”) Catholics supposed to follow orders from Rome. “Lootherstown” is both Wittenberg, where Luther made his protestant protest, and, as McHugh notes, Booterstown, a stop on the Dalkey, Kingstown, and Blackrock tram line, but also the town of Lucan, one tram stop past Chapelizod. Until 1928, passengers on the Dalkey line heading for Lucan would have had to change at Parkgate Street, on the eastern edge of Phoenix Park. 582.34-5: “that drew all ladies please to our great mettrollops:” the trams are drawing ladies to our trollopy metropolis (Dublin), perhaps turning them into trollops in the process. (As Ulysses shows, the Dublin of Joyce’s time had a booming red light district.) 582.34: “all ladies please:” given context, the tram conductor’s words, probably along the lines of “Ladies first” 582.34-5: “mettrollops:” compare “strumpet city” in Marlowe’s “The Massacre at Paris.” 582.35: “plotting kings down:” putting things down; plotting king’s (for instance “Leary, leary”’s (.35)) King Lear’s downfall. Also, Kingstown, a.k.a. (“Leary” (.35)) Dún Laoghaire, on the Dalkey, Kingstown, and Blackrock line. 583.1: “bridges are blown:” to burn (or blow up) one’s bridges: to behave in a way that forecloses any backing down. Also, blowing bridges is a standard military maneuver when holding off an assault. 583.1: “blown to babbyrags:” possibly an English translation of “smithereens,” as in “blown to smithereens:” the word is supposed to derive from Gaelic smidirin, diminutive of “fragment.” (See 589.30.) So: “babbyrags:” baby-bits 583.1-4: “bridges…lee…hulk…heave…arx [arks]…naval…tartanelle [Dardanelles; also (McHugh) a sailing vessel]…strait’s:” seagoing terms for intercourse. Comes from rolling, wave-like (“heave” (.2)) piston-cylinder movement (see next) of man’s large (Jupiter-sized) arx/ark/arse. The man, on top, is a large vessel attempting, in the military language used in WW I’s unsuccessful Gallipoli campaign, to force the (“tarnanellse”) Dardanelles, ALP’s vaginal “strait’s she’s in.” 583.1-2: “by the lee of his hulk upright on her orbits, and the heave of his juniper arx in action:” compare “Ithaca:” “the superincumbent posture of energetic human copulation and energetic piston and cylinder movement.” Also, see second note to .4. The “orbits” are probably ALP’s round buttocks. 583.1: “lee:” lee-side of a sailing ship 583.1: “hulk:” prison ship 583.2-5: “juniper arx in action, he’s naval I see. Poor little tartanelle, her dintles are clattering, the strait’s she’s in, the bulloge she bears!:” See McHugh: Zeus, here as Jupiter (“juniper”) abducted Europa across the “straits” of the (“tartanelle”) Dardanelles by assuming the form of a (“bulloge”) bull. Both “naval” (seagoing terminology is present, appropriate for the Dardanelles) and “navel:” his fat belly. 583.2: “arx:” arse 583.3-4: “the bulloge she bears:” Brendan O Hehir glosses “bulloge” as Gaelic for bullock. 583.4: “she bears:” she-bears. (There will be many bearish/hibernation/waking-from-hibernation soundings between here and the chapter’s last page.) 583.4-11: ”Her smirk…one!:” notwithstanding Nora’s words quoted at note for 558.26-31, this certainly sounds as if the wife is being an enthusiastic participant, mainly because – see first note to .7 – she’s imaginatively substituting a forbidden lover for her husband – like Molly in “Penelope,” as Bloom puts in in “Nausicaa,” “thinking of someone else all the time.” 583.4: “Her smirk is smeeching behind:” her skirt is squinching up behind her, just as his nightgown is rucked up to his hips? – 582.29. Behind her (583.4: “hills”) buttocks? (Note: in the same vicinity, she is described as (covering up her hair curlers) wearing a “mobcap” (.5) – not a nightcap - a “shift,” and possibly (“dinties” (.3)) dainties, i.e. what Ulysses’ Sweets of Sin calls “frillies.” 583.4: “smirk:” as for instance with Bloom’s “smirking misses” of “boy and girl courtship” (“Eumaeus”), the word often connotes flirtation or seduction of an especially knowing sort. (An example from S. J. Perelman: “He smirked into her neckline and earmarked her for future spoliation.”) 583.6: “the lift of her shift:” “shifts” was a famously scandalous word in Synge’s The Playboy of the Western World. (See 584.23 and note.) “Lift of her shift,” especially in the context, would be Joyce doubling down against the prudes. 583.7: “two thinks at a time:” again, compare Bloom in “Nausicaa:” “She must have been thinking of someone else all the time.” Molly was thinking of Willie Mulvey in her first sexual encounter with Bloom; ALP (584.5-6) is thinking of Magrath. 583.7: “her country,” in context, compare Hamlet’s “country matters.” 583.7-8: “The field is down, the race is their own:” compare racing announcement: The flag is down, the race is on, they’re on their way. Comparisons between copulation and horse-riding are not hard to find, for instance the whores in “Circe,” observing Boylan and Molly: “O he’s carrying her around the room doing it. Ride a cock horse.” See next. 583.8-9: “The galleonman jovial on his bucky brown nightmare:” the former would be a sailor, the latter a horse. See 237.27-9 and 322.17 and notes, and especially 606.34-5: “there is always something racey about, say, a sailor on a horse.” The expression seems to be the equivalent of “fish out of water.” 583.8: “galleonman:” (See next entry.) Galleon: a big, heavy warship. Also the four “Galilean” moons of Jupiter, so-called because discovered by Galileo: Ganymede (.11), Io (.10), Callisto, and Europa. Of the last two, Europa, abducted by Zeus-as-bull, is, again, adumbrated in “Poor little tartanelle…the strait’s she’s in, the bulloge [again, O Hehir glosses “bulloge” as bullock] she bears!” (.3-4). Europe, named after Europa, begins at the Bosporus. (According to one tradition, the “Bos” in Bosporus is named for Io, changed into a cow by Hera.) Callisto, turned into a she-bear by, again, the jealous Hera, is surely behind the “she bears” of .4. (Also, 552.15: “Playing bull before shebears.”) Joyce apparently leaves out the five other, non-Galilean, moons, all discovered during his lifetime. The male Ganymede notwithstanding, this imaginary collection – young beauties, with father-figure lover - suggest that, like ALP (.7), he is fantasizing about being with another or others, in his case probably to some extent a version of his daughter. 583.8-23: “jovial…ephemeral:” (See previous two entries.) As McHugh documents, these lines are dense with heavenly bodies – astronomical objects and their mythological counterparts. (“Oxen of the Sun” was a prototype, from sun (Deshil,” sunward) to outermost planet (Neptune, as (“pissedon”), Poseidon), with a running parallel between planet and god/goddess, then the “abominable regions” of outer space.) Here, the rationale may be the convention that sexual ecstasy is celestially transporting: see 69.9-13 and 251.30, or Lenehan in “Wandering Rocks,” about furtively fondling Molly’s breasts: “I was lost, so to speak, in the milky way.” 583.9: “bucky brown nightmare:” “bucky” describes a horse (or, as in “Nestor,” nightmare) prone to bucking – here, probably, with some sexual suggestiveness: compare Mulligan in “Telemachus:” “Redheaded women buck like goats.” 583.9: “brown:” ? See 559.28 and note. Yet another indication that ALP is dark-complexioned, at least compared to her husband. FW parallels with the popular Dublin play “A Royal Divorce” sometimes identify her with Napoleon’s Josephine, who was of mixed race. 583.9: “Bigrob dignagging his lylyputtana:” Oxford editors have "Bigbrob." Along with Gulliver’s Travels’ Brobdingnag and Lilliput, noted by McHugh, probably an allusion to Laputa, the flying island of Book III, and perhaps, with “nag,” a nod at the Houyhnhnms of Book IV. Also of course, during this sexual encounter, he is the big (“galleonman”) Brobdinagian to her little Lilliputian. 583.10: “One to one bore one!:” One to one bar one! (Compare 335.6.) Betting term at horse races: even odds on your preferred horse versus any other listed, with one (barred) exception, for a particular race. In “Circe” it’s “Ten to one, bar one.” “Bore” surely includes penetration in the sexual sense – and, when it comes the husband, “with his tiresome duty peck” (396.15-6), his usual boring performance; hence, for ALP, the need to bring McGrath imaginatively into the picture. 583.10-2: “The datter io, io, sleeps in peace, in peace. And the twillingsons, ganymede, garrymore, turn in trot and trot. But old pairamere goes it a gallop, a gallop:” Oxford editors add a third "a gallop.“ Here’s the Lord Mayor” type of game played with children. A version occurs in “Nausicaa.” Compare 565.21-2. Note the usual signatures for the children: two i’s for Issy, 2-3 (“twi-,” “trot”) for the twins, here as sons of I.1’s Willingdone. 583.10: “The datter, io, io:” Christiani has “The daughter sleeps, yes, yes.” “Io! Io! Evoe!” was, or believed to be, a Bacchic chant. Given how often Issy’s i-i signature figures as the dot-dot of Morse Code (see previous entry), “datter” may echo “dotter;” compare “the dotter of his eyes” (372.3). 583.10: “in peace, in peace:” another pair of dots: peas are round. (See previous two entries.) Also, the Issy-ish Prankquean repeatedly asks Jarl Von Hoother why she and he look like alike – in fact, like two peas in a pod. (Repressed answer: because she’s his “datter”/”dotter.”) 583.11-2: “twillingsons…turn in trot and trot:” echo of “Willingdone” of I.1, on his “big white harse” 583.12: “pairamere:” given ALP as “nightmare” at .11, both (McHugh) paramour and something along the line of “old gray mare,” from a song dating from 1917. 583.12: “Bossford:” Mink identifies as Bosporus. Goes with “tartanelle” (.3) Dardanelles, and probably with conceit of intercourse as a ship entering (“strait’s” (.4)) straits. 583.14-5: “O, O, her fairy setalite! Casting such shadows to Persia’s blind! The man in the street can see the coming event:” the action in the bed is causing the lamp to shake (at .31 it is “all askew”), making for a moving shadow-show, visible outdoors on and through (see entry after next) the blinds. Also, expression: “Coming events cast there shadows before.” It occurs in “Lestrygonians.” 583.14: “fairy setalite:” fiery, setting alight. Compare the “fiery quean” of 328.31-3, along with Spenser's The Faerie Queene a version of the prankquean of I.1, e.g. “And she lit up and fireland was ablaze” (21.16-7). 583.14-5: “Persia’s blind!:” Persian blinds – similar to Venetian blinds. How much light (and shadow) comes through depends on their adjustment. 583.15: “the man in the street:” a phrase current during Joyce’s life, signifying the average citizen; here, probably the manservant, the “park’s police” (.24) – see also 580.28 and note. 583.15: “the coming event:” sexual sense of “come” was around in Joyce’s time: in “Penelope,” Molly Bloom remembers that she “never came properly” until her mid-twenties. 583.15-6: “Photoflashing it far too wide:” camera’s flashbulb (sometimes, at the time, called a “photoflash”) going off as picture is snapped. Perhaps overtone of “far too white:” as some will remember, flashbulb photos could have a blanching effect. Also, at times, an incriminating one: they were associated with politicians, criminals, etc., in compromising circumstances, involuntarily having their pictures taken by intrusive news photographers. This is definitely the case in FW: see, for instance, the snapshot/gunshot of 341.6. Also, the photophone, an invention by Alexander Graham Bell for transmitting sound by means of light; it was used during WW I, when it presumably flashed out its messages, far and wide. 583.16: “through all Urania:” given all the geography in the vicinity, through all Eurasia; the two continents join at the (“tartanelle” (.3) Dardanelles. 583.16-9: “titaning…rhean…Phoebe’s:” Rhea and Phoebe are titans. Perhaps “titaning” sounds Tethys, another titan. In general, the Titans, their Olympian offspring and rivals, and various (“setalite” (.14)) satellites, both mythical and astronomical, are in play in this sequence, with, apparently, little in the way of a consistent narrative. 583.17: “jealousjoy:” James Joyce was prone to jealousy. 583.17: “rumour rhean:” rumor running. (Did Joyce know that sound doesn’t travel through space? The “Ithaca” narrator apparently still subscribes to the “luminiverous…ether.”) 583.18: “china’s dragon snapping japets:” China and Japan as perennial rivals; under Kublai Khan, armies from the Chinese mainland twice invaded and occupied areas of Japan before being turned back. Compare 435.27: “when chine throws over jupan.” The astrology of both cultures includes a dragon (variously named) as one of the principal constellations. 583.18: “japets:” compare “Jappies” (Japanese) in “Oxen of the Sun.” Also, Japheth, son of Noah and progenitor of European and East Asian peoples 583.18: “rhodagrey up the east:” dawn colors (red and grey) in the east. Again, morning “Fog” (555.1), its “haze” “lofting” (593.1) but not yet entirely gone, helps account for the pervading grayness. 583.19-20: “Here the flood and the flaxen flood:” What “Calypso” calls “warm yellow sunlight,” perhaps breaking through clouds, flooding the room. Compare 593.18. 583.21: “Liv and her bettyship:” not sure who this refers to, but “Betty” has sometimes been a generic term for a lady’s maid. It has been suggested that ALP’s middle name of Livia, shortened to “liv” (compare 11.5 and 63.14, as well as 10.31) gives the Roman numerals for her age, fifty-four. Nora’s fifty-fourth birthday was on March 21, 1938. True to her middle name, ALP frequently corresponds to the Emperor Augustus’s consort. 583.22: “jettyblack rosebuds:” “little black rose” is a symbol of Ireland. 583.22: “rosebuds, ninsloes of nivia, nonpaps of nan:” her “rosebuds” (.21) are the buds of a pre-adolescent female – she lacks even paps. (In “Nausicaa” Bloom remembers Milly as a child, with her “little paps.”) McHugh glosses “ninsloes” as Latin nivea, snowy, as in the “snow-white bosom” of romance novels (one wag’s version: “blizzom”); “nivia” may be a condensation of “New Livia,” “nan” of “Nana:” see 567.14-5 and note. If, as suggested in the note to .8, HCE is fantasizing sex with Issy, then the flower-girl song “Who’ll Buy My Rosebuds” (.21-2: see McHugh) is part of the interior-monologue package. 583.23: “doom’s last post:” “Last Post:” bugle call at soldier’s funeral 583.24-5: “weight down morrals from county bubblin:” enforce laws governing morality. Also, morels (mushrooms) being cooked in a bubbling pot. (Morels grow wild in Ireland. They grow fastest in humid regions, and proverbially “pop up,” literally overnight, in FW (“Why, them’s the muchrooms, come up during the night” (625.19-20)) after a rainstorm of the sort that transpires in II.3, as reported at 324.26-34. 583.25: “Quick, pay up!:” repeats “Kick! Playup!” of 554.9. In both cases, signals the terminus of the man’s erotic fugue. The woman’s will take over in the next line. 583.27: “elbiduubled:” in intercourse, he’s leaning on both elbows. The “uu” may be figurative. 583.29: “waxened:” oil for rubbing cricket bats is called bat-wax. Also, wax: to grow larger, i.e. tumesce. Perhaps also lubricant for contraceptive device: as in II.4, there is a running parallel between sex and sports, in this case cricket. See next entry. 583.29: “waxened capapee:” paired with his “mace,” this is evidently his contraceptive. But of what kind? The FW testimony on this subject is perplexing. Again, available in Joyce’s time was a rubber “penile cap,” perhaps here as a “cap” on a waxing – swelling – “p”enis - that covered only the glans; compare notes for 128.21-2, 567.7-27, and 570.24-5. And, again, why? In either case, it seems reasonably clear that ALP is past her childbearing years. (The “lmp” of 427.14, some have suggested, may stand for “last menstrual period.”) See also 567.7-27, 574.25, and notes. 583.29-30: “Cainmaker’s…tarrant’s brand on his hottoweyt brow:” Again, (red) mark (compare “Redspot” (.31)) of Cain on the forehead. Also, in some cultures slaves were branded on the brow, here by a (“tarrant’s”) tyrant. In any case, the main point is that he is inflamed with passion. 583.29-30: “the tarrant’s brand on his hottoweyt brow:” again – compare 582.31 and note - Jupiter’s red spot. 583.30: “half past quick:” half past six a.m. (At 584.3 it’s “kicksolock in the morm” – six in the morning. Maybe it’s a case of G.M.T. versus Dunsink Time (see 517.24-30); maybe they’re just approximating.) Also, “Half-past Six” was the nickname given to Joyce when he first went to Clongowes Wood College. 583.31: “wick-in-er:” as in Earwicker. As earler noted, “wick” is a Yorkshire idiom for alive or lively. Also, with (as McHugh notes) slang for penis, his wick is in her. Also, probably, wakener – the couple has just waked up. 583.32: “too thick:” to think. Also, “Irish toothache:” an erection. Definitely current in Joyce’s time. 583.33: “lickering:” lickerish: lecherous 583.33 “lickering jessup the smooky shiminey:” here as elsewhere, your annotator believes that the bedroom of the married couple is joined to Issy’s bedroom, directly above, by a chimney flue connecting the two fireplaces, and that it is by this route that sounds from one can be heard by the other. Here, the sounds are lecherous, going up the smoky chimney. Ever since the prankquean episode of I.1, exchanges between father and daughter have been accompanied by fire – the “voice from afire” (3.9) of Issy as “fiery quean” (328.11). (Also, of course: sexual penetration) 583.34: “duffed coverpoint:” doffed coverlet – the blanket or counterpane has been kicked loose. 583.34: “duffed coverpoint of a wickeday batter:” duffer, counterpart: seems to be saying that, in cricket, a weekday batter is something not to be. In sports and in general, a duffer is someone who is inexperienced or incompetent. 583.34-584.5: she…faster:” just as she’s looking down at her own moving buttocks (see .4 and note), so she’s checking out his equipment as well, especially the (“bagslops” (.36)) scrotum with (“red bobby abbels…bails” (584.2-4)) balls – are they as red as his face? Perhaps red balls are in comparison to the “blue balls” of sexual frustration, which OED traces to 1920. 583.35-6: “tunnilclefft bagslops:” his scrotum, with a seam medically termed the “scrotal septum.” Maybe a response to Bloom’s thought that women, not men, are the “cloven sex.” Compare 229.23-4. 584.1: “lordherry’s:” compare expression in “Oxen of the Sun:” “By the Lord Harry.” Gifford glosses is as referring to Henry II, the English conqueror of Ireland. 584.2: “red bobby abbels:” testicles, bobbing up and down in the, she imagines, roseate scrotum, matching the face. Also, bobbing for (red) apples. Also, Abel paired off with Cain (543.29-30) 584.2: “tickled her innings:” tickled her insides 584.3: Tipatonguing him on in her pigeony linguish:” in “Circe,” Mrs Breen puts her tongue between her lips and offers Bloom a “pigeon kiss,” including (“linguish”) Latin lingua, tongue, presumably named for the way courting pigeons peck softly at one another. Also, as documented in Joyce’s 1909 letters to Nora, talking dirty during sex – the tongue both as part of smooching and as provocative vocalizer of erotic feelings, tempting him on. Also, pigeons/rock doves have traditionally been carriers of messages, including messages of love, here in pidgin English: Anacreon’s Ode 15 (translated by, among others, Thomas Moore) celebrates the dove carrying a love note to his mistress Myrtale and refers to a similar winged message from Sappho to “Barhylus…her love.” Besides being the scouts sent out by Noah and Columbus – the name of the latter was taken by its owner as providentially recalling the good-news dove of the former – FW pigeons and doves are sometimes the means of messaging between lovers: examples are at 147.22-4, 282.12, 327.34-5, 347.27-8, and 458.20-2. Here, as well, the two t’s in “Tipatonguing,” matched with the two I’s of “linguish” are typical of the Morse code messages sent between Tristan and Iseult as “Issy.” 584.5: “Ye hek, ye hok, ye hucky:” “hic, haec, hoc:” beginning Latin lesson. “Hec” or “heck” (as at 577.23) or, here, “hek,” can be version of HCE. So can (see next entry) “huck” or “hucky” 584.5: “hucky hiremonger:” as McHugh notes, James Iremonger, English cricketeer. For reasons I can’t follow – your annotator pleads complete incomprehension when it comes to cricket - he was said to have been exceptionally unlucky. 585.6: “Magrath he’s my pegger:” Magrath is probably FW’s most mysterious figure. Glasheen calls him “Anna Livia’s…special hate,” but here, equal-oppositely, he’s the one she’s fantasizing about during marital sex. Bloom on Molly: “She must have been thinking of someone else all the time” – as indeed she was: her first lover Mulvey, during her first sexual experience with Bloom. 584.6: “bricking up my old kent road:” “Bricklayers’ Arms:” currently an intersection, formerly the name of a famous inn on the Old Kent Road – so much so, in fact, that its name was sometimes synonymous with the road 584.6: “kent:” cunt. (Probably obvious) 584.7: “He’ll win your toss:” in some sports, a coin is tossed at the beginning to decide which player or team will have the advantage. 584.9: “parring all Oogster:” listed by Glasheen: the (“Oogster”) oldster Old Parr, said to have gotten a woman with child when over a hundred years old. As at 3.17, equally-oppositely combined with “parr” for newborn salmon, returning to sea after the oldster in question has died of spawning 584.10: “teste his metch:” test match: contest between two teams representing their countries. Also, as at 583.11-12 (see note) testes, and test case 584.10: “Three for two will do for me:” again, 3/2 is a signature of the twins. Given the “Tea for Two” theme (see McHugh), it’s pertinent that the lyrics include the line “a boy for you, a girl for me.” The Joyces had a son and a daughter, and the FW couple has a daughter and twin boys. Compare next entry. 584.11: “and she for you:” despite the animus in evidence throughout, at 620.26-7 ALP tenderly remembers conceiving Issy as a gift to her husband. (As for the twins, see previous entry: they are her special care. FW’s family would seem to follow a familiar pattern: each child relates to the parent of the opposite sex, to some extent at the expense of the other.) 584.12: “hooley pooley:” Simon Dedalus in “Hades:” “By the holy Paul!” A favorite oath of Joyce’s father 584.13: “he’d tyre and burst his dunlops:” Dunlop manufactured both (English spelling) tyres and rubber condoms. Bursting one during intercourse might make for undesired offspring – “”boobybabies” (.14). 584.14: “bornybarnies:” bairns: babies, newborn 584.15-18: “with his…feelyfooling:” HCE is at least partially unclothed, and it’s not clear how some of the items here, for instant “gentleman’s grip,” could count as garments, but this does at least continue the FW pattern of giving him seven items of something. 584.15: “lolleywide towelhat:” another noticing of HCE’s white hair, especially distinctive as a sign of how he has aged. (Compare his introduction in I.1, where his “hair grows wheater” (26.7), whiter. Likewise, his moustache has gotten “frothwhiskered” (558.15) – at 578.4-5 it’s compared to snow – with age.) Also, lily-white (porcelain) toilet – makes little sense, but the speaker is set on being abusive, one way or other. In “Cyclops” the English, said elsewhere (“Aeolus”) to be exceptionally partial to water closets, sit on “thrones of alabaster.” Possibly his white hair, elsewhere seen as a nightcap or tea cosy, is here being compared to a turban, insultingly (as with today’s “rag-head”) called a hat made of towels. 584.16: “socks:” compare 578.8-9. 584.18: “hump and hambledown:” up and down 584.19: “ovalled over:” over and over, over all. In “Penelope,” Molly remembers that sex can make “you feel that way so nice all over you.” 584.19-20: “pads of her punishments:” buttocks. (Part of the body which, according to “Oxen of the Sun,” “has long been consecrated as the seat of castigation”) 584.21: “shantyqueer:” shanty: traditionally, sign of Irish poverty. Here, a queer old house, evidently shared with the chickens, e.g. Chanticleer the cock paired with Biddy, “the hen of doran’s:” compare note to .25. 584.23: “wuck:” waked 584.23: “gallows:” gallous: Irish word, meaning (approximately) wonderful. Occurs in Synge’s The Playboy of the Western World;” note “playaboy’s” (.17). 584.23: “gallows bird:” as both bird of wonder (see previous entry), a common term for the phoenix, and condemned felon (see McHugh) - a classic FW equal-opposite 584.24: “nine hundred and dirty too not out:” an impossibly high cricket score for an innings; as of the present the highest “not out” is four hundred. (“Not out” means that the batsman has not been dismissed in the course of one innings.) In FW numerology, thirty-two is a reliable signature of the twins, but 932 by itself doesn’t seem to signify much of anything. 584.25: “cock of the morgans:” compare .20-1., 111.5: cock of the Morgans vs. Biddy, hen of the Dorans (.20-21, cf. 111.4). “Cock” in the sexual sense is definitely part of the picture here: compare “at wiking when the morn hath razed out limpalove” (338.30-31), a celebration of continuing potency in late middle age. Compare next entry. 584.27: “Cocorico!:” tradition that roosters crow after sex. The contented tone of 584.28-585.33, following, would seem to confirm. The overtone of the “coocoo” of cuckoldry may have to do with the fact that the woman was thinking of someone else, McGrath, all the while (584.5). 584.28-9: ”So the bill to the bowe. As the belle to the beau:” behind this is the tradition that a Cockney is someone “born within sound of Bow Bells,” that is of the bell ringing from St. Mary Le Bow Church, Cheapside, London. Thoughts of Cockneys may have been prompted by “cock” (.25). In any case, the theme is of news (of completed sex) being spread, by sound, including that of church bells here and beyond, ultimately extending “round the whole universe” (548.3). Also, of course, courting ladies and gentlemen, belle and beau, bowing and (as in billing and cooing) billing. “Bowe” may be a contraction of bower. 584.29-30: “We herewith pleased returned auditors’ thanks:” for having been allowed to listen in to the bedroom goings-on. (Question: who’s “We?” Maybe us.) 584.31: “Tellaman tillamie:” about half of FW’s “tell me”s (including approximations such as these, “Telmetale,” etc.) appear in II.8, as the words of the gossipy washerwomen, wanting to know everything about ALP, especially the sensational bits. Here, their words introduce the gossip columnists of a newspaper of “the widest circulation” (585.3; compare the watery “swirls” of 212.27)), publicizing the just-completed action. Because, even for the tabloids, it would be difficult to make much of a scandal out of a case of middle-aged marital intercourse, they opt to go for a happy-couple home-and-hearth story, to be sure punctuated by patches of smirky collegiate factiousness – after all, domestic or not, the subject is sex. The tone struck resembles comments in “Oxen of the Sun” on the aged Theodore Purefoy’s continuing virility, for instance, “S’life. I’ll be round with you. I cannot but extol the virile potency of the old bucko that could still knock another child out of her.” 584.32: “carriageable tochters:” as in carriage trade – a popular term for the exceptionally well-to-do. The (marriageable) daughters hope to marry up. Also, possible overtone of “corrigible” – the daughters would be bettering themselves. 584.32: “tanks tight:” thanks to 584.32-3: “anne thynne:” anything 584.33: “contractations:” vaginal contractions. Again, a sign of the woman’s enthusiastic participation. Here, it seems to be doubling with the contractions of childbirth: see next entry. 584.33: “tugowards:” tug-o-war (McHugh): back-and-forth of intercourse. Also, compare Bloom in “Nausicaa:” “groaning to have a child tugged out of her.” 584.34: “O I you O you me:” see .27 and note. A reasonable version of what a happily post-coitally crowing rooster might be saying, incorporating and reversing the familiar I. O. U. noted by McHugh – for now, anyway, the gratification has been reciprocal. (Compare Stephen’s alphabetical pun in “Scylla and Charybdis,” “A. E. I. O. U.” – he owes money to AE.) Also “OUI” would be the French version of Molly’s “yes” in Ulysses, earlier remembered as “yeses and yeses and yeses” (184.2), and, on the next page after this, as “O yes! O yes! “ (585.26). (Also, see 584.3-4 and note.) 585.35: “rendering gratias, well, between loves repassed:” saying grace – giving thanks – for both an act of love completed (“-passed)” and (“repassed”/repast) a meal to come. 585.35: “loves repassed:” see McHugh: love’s repast. Likeliest source is Psalm XXXVI, as translated for the Church of England’s official The Psalms of David, Selected for Public Worship: “Such guests shall to thy courts be led / To banquet on thy love’s repast.” 584.36: “pigtorial rights:” probably for the photoflash (583.15-6), taken for the (swinish) papers. 585.2: “Neptune’s Centinel and Tritonville:” the points in play are farther apart than usual for a typical FW cluster, but this would complete the catalogue of planets outside of Earth’s orbit, with the two inner planets, Mercury and Venus, conspicuous by their absence. First Mars (581.14), then Jupiter (583.2), then Saturn (583.19), then, and out of order, Uranus (583.16), now Neptune. Also, as McHugh notes, Triton (“Tritonville”) is a moon of Neptune. Rhea (583.17) (583.17) is a moon of Saturn. (As with “Oxen of the Sun” sequence (see 583.8-23 and note), the (as of this writing, demoted) Pluto may have been discovered (in 1930) and publicized too late for inclusion.) It is probably not a coincidence that this list is immediately followed by “the widest circulation round the whole universe” (585.3): planets circulate around the sun, a star which is part of the universe. The news has radiated from local to interstellar. In the similar conceit of “Oxen of the Sun,” the last of the planets is succeeded by “starshiny coelum.” 585.2: “Centinel…Lightowler:” “Sentinel” and “Lighthouse” (like “Beacon”) have long been popular names for newspapers and other publications. A lighthouse (see next entry) might plausibly be called a sentinel of the sea, realm of Neptune. 585.2-3: “Tritonville Lightowler with well the widest circulation:” lighthouse lights revolve – that is, circulate. Tritonville Road is in Ringsend (compare “ringeysingey” (583.31) and note to 585.9) district of the Poolbeg Lighthouse. Also, the news of the recent event is being circulated by the press. 585.3-4: “Echolo choree O my youhou my I:” with U in “youhou,” O U I: oui. Again, compare Molly’s “yes.” Also, compare the “O I you O you me!” of 584.34; this may be an (“Echolo”) echo or response. 585.5: “I O:” Io: as satellite, a moon of Jupiter (583.32), named after the woman pursued by Zeus and turned into a cow by Hera – more in the mythical/planetary line – see note to 583.8-23. 585.6: “profiteered:” proffered 585.9: “ringasend:” given the context, it is probably pertinent that Joyce and Nora had their first date (on Bloomsday) in the Dublin neighborhood of Ringsend. 585.9: “prevenient:” perhaps condom (if it is a condom) as pregnancy/disease preventer. In Joyce’s day and well into the 1960’s, the packaging on rubber condoms said that they were “Sold for prevention of disease only.” Also, in Ulysses, Bloom’s condom is a “rubber preservative.” 585.9: “prevenient (by your leave) to all such occasions:” given Joyce’s background, this certainly sounds like theology talk: prevenient grace (before conversion) as protection against occasions of sin. 585.10: “twos intact:” ‘twas: on inspection, the contraceptive was intact after use, which Is good news – no accidental “boobabies” (584.14) this time. 585.11: “oracular of Malthus, the promethean paratonnerwetter which first (Pray go! Pray go!) taught love’s lightning the way (pity shown) to well, conduct itself:” the oracle of Malta, which is located in underground caves and speaks from out of echoes. (This makes it (“oracular”) auricular, as opposed to oracles whose messages are delivered otherwise – with breezes or leaves, for instance.) One account of an encounter with the oracle: “The words come thundering forth through the dark and terrifying place with terrifying effect.” Discovered in 1902. Prehistoric, thought to be Phoenician. As of now – and certainly as of FW - no presiding deity has been determined. Joyce seems to want it to be Zeus, as thunder god: (“promethean”) Prometheus, (“paratonnerwetter”) paratonnerre (French for lightning conductor, as McHugh notes), lightning being, after all (“lightning…conduct”) electrically conducted. 585.12: “(Pray go! pray go!):” Italian Prego! Prego! Can have a number of (always polite) meanings, here as Don’t mention it! response to “Thanks” (.5). Coinciding contraries: in English, “Pray go!” is, though courtly, anything but polite. 585.12-3: “taught love’s lightning the way…to, well, conduct itself:” rubber, as in rubber condoms, is a poor conductor of electricity. (Electricians often wear rubber gloves.) “Conduct” as double-meaning: it conducts itself by not conducting “love’s lightning” into closing the circuit of impregnation. “Oxen of the Sun” makes use of the same idea of ejaculation as lightning, thwarted: “in an instant (fiat!) light shall flood the world. Did heart leap to heart? Nay, fair reader.” For “flood,” compare 583.19-20: “Here's the flood and the flaxen flood that's to come over helpless Irryland.” (Except that, being “conducted,” it doesn’t: “You never wet the tea” (585.31)!) 585.15: “markmakers:” maker’s mark 585.15-6: “come all ye laboursaving devisers and chargeleyden dividends:” Jesus: “Come ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you.” The words are part of the Anglican liturgy. As McHugh notes, “chargeleyden” includes a Leyden jar, charged – the first electric battery, going along with the sex-as-electricity theme here. 585.15-6: “laboursaving devisers:” contraceptives (see McHugh) prevent childbirth, therefor prevent going into labor. 585.18: “still life with:” beginnings of titles for many paintings 585.18: “to be, to do and to suffer:” that humans, like Jesus, must “be, do, and suffer” - a common theme of sermons and homilies. 585.20: “dapplegray dawn drags nearing:” see 118.34-5 and note, 583.18 and note. Joyce had at least some familiarity with the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins, a professor at the school, University College, Dublin, of which he was a graduate, and these words recall the beginning of Hopkins’ best-known poem, “The Windhover.” 585.21: “droners that drowse:” snorers 585.22-3: “wedded now evermore in annastomoses by a ground plan:” sexual attraction has joined them together as a part of God’s grand plan. Compare Stephen in “Oxen of the Sun,” semi-sarcastically, on human lust: “We are means to those small creatures within us and nature has other ends than we.” 585.23: “whiskered beau:” HCE, with his moustache 585.24: “Totumvir and esquimeena:” Totem pole (male) and Eskimo-eena (female); Eskimos have totem poles. One of several pairings emphasizing his size as compared to hers 585.24-5: “who so shall separate fetters to new desire:” in “Circe,” an apparition of Molly appears in a harem outfit, including a “fetterchain” linking her ankles. At 255.35, in a list of ALP’s measurements, “quis separabits” (“Quis Separabit:” Who shall separate?) applies to her thighs. Gist: keeping her thighs together – unseparated – thwarts any return of desire, therefore “repeals an act of union” (.25). 585.25-6: “repeals an act of union to unite in bonds of schismacy:” etymologically, “schismacy” means division-fight. Here, those fighting to repeal the much-resented 1800 Act of Union, in something like a civil war. (One other, post-Joyce Irish author to give “act of union” a sexual double-meaning: Seamus Heaney, in his poem of that name.) Compare the entry after next. 585.26: “O yes! O yes!:” again, see 584.34 and note, and, again, compare Molly’s “yes.” 585.26: “O yes! O yes! Withdraw your member! Closure. The chamber stands abjourned:” “Oyes! Oyes!:” traditional call before an announcement of courtroom or legislative proceedings – here, with obvious sexual implications, that a “member” has left the “chamber.” Following the passing of the Act of Union, The Irish Houses of Parliament were dissolved, its members withdrawn. Also, it may be pertinent that, later, the Irish Civil War was precipitated when de Valera led anti-treaty members out of the Dáil. In reinstituting an Irish parliament, the Dáil effectively repealed and (“abjourned”) abjured the Act of Union. 585.30: “Anny, blow your wickle out!:” “your wickle:” overtone of Earwicker. Wick: slang for penis. (See McHugh for “kekkle” (.30).) Also, simply, blowing out the (candle) wick of the lamp which up to now has been ALP’s property: at 587.3 an observer will complain of having “only our hazelight [the foggy dawn] to see with.” (Two tentative conclusions: 1. The couple in question – rather counterintuitively, given the visible evidence of the ravages of time - prefers keeping the lights on during sex; 2. They are now going to “Retire to rest” (.34) - have one brief, final snooze before it’s time to get up.) 585.31: “Tuck away the tablesheet! You never wet the tea:” “wet the tea” is a common Irish expression for “make the tea.” Most readings take this sentence as indicating a failure of sexual performance, perhaps like the “dry rush” of “Circe,” which Gifford and Seidman gloss as “slang for sexual intercourse without emission.” Your annotator is unconvinced. For one thing, there’s the “flaxen flood” of 583.19, then the (“Aunty Dilluvia” (.32)) antediluvian state to which HCE is now retired or consigned. I suggest that, thanks to his contraceptive, his ejaculate has not entered her or left any other visible sign. Evidence of this is the state of the (table) sheet, minus a wet spot. (See 575.21 and note.) Also, at society dinners, removing the tablecloth signaled the formal end of social proceedings, at least between the sexes: the ladies would exit for the drawing room and leave the gentlemen to their port. See entry after next. 585.32: “too thick:” to think 586.1-2: “no cobsmoking, spitting, pubchat, wrastle rounds, coarse courting, smut, etc:” all these activities are typically male, occurring when there are no ladies present. Gentlemen smoked and ladies didn’t; when the smokers gathered together they were sometimes known to talk smut, for instance about the farmer’s daughter, which accordingly became known as “smoking room” language. 586.1: “wrastle rounds:” wrestling matches are divided into rounds. 586.5: “Water non to be discharged coram grate or ex window:” compare 570.35 and note. Probably another reference to the practice of emptying chamberpots out the window. See also 559.14-5 and note: water only 586.5-6: “Never divorce in the bedding the glove that will give you away:” as McHugh says, the “glove” is probably a condom (or, your annotator being still confused in this matter, I would add, something similar), having been removed (“twos [t’was] intact!” (585.10)) and unwisely-nonchalantly left in the bed, which Kate will make. The language resembles Jaun’s admonitions in III.2, here as there more concerned with appearances than principles. That the marital intercourse just completed included a contraceptive device is the one datum that, if known, would give the tabloids, at least the Irish ones, some basis for any scandalmongering (see 584.31 and note) they might still hope to pursue – and, sure enough, as the ensuing lines, up to .18, will make clear, the device in question, whatever it is, will be discovered and discarded by the maid (Kate), dumped in the upstream river/sewer that is the Liffey, and be duly noticed by the washerwomen, with gossipaceous consequences reminding us that the anti-HCE “Ballad of Persse O’Reilly” includes the accusation that he sold “immaculate contraceptives for the populace” (45.14). 586.7: “(for your life, would you!):” expression of gossip (from “Maid Maud” (.6-7)) spreading scandal. From the end of the previous page, the mood has been increasingly one of post-coital dumps: no fun allowed, with ninnies and old aunties taking over the discourse, with their enforced modesty (.3-5), thou-shalt-nots (the Mosaic (“byrn-and-bushe”) burning bush will show up at .11), and burgeoning rumors about disgraceful acts. 586.8: “bosom friend:” McHugh and Oxford editors both replace “bosom” with “besom,” at 79.36 and 471.32 a token of Kate as cleaner and (“sweeps” (.9)) sweeper. Here, gossiping all the while, and accompanied (.10-2) by a strain of I.2’s scandal-mongering “The Ballad of Persse O’Reilly,” she sweeps the incriminating article into the trash, whence it eventually winds up in the river. 586.10 “old corporators:” the Dublin Corporation – an assembly of mostly senior citizens – as well as the couple just witnessed performing corporeally, even primitively so – the male was acting like a “jungleman” (.11). 586.11-2: “playing peg and pom:” compare the (clearly sexual) “pegger” of 585.6 and Issy’s (equally sexual) “even my little pom got excited” (527.31), with (“pom”) pomme. that most disreputable of fruits, the apple. 586.12: “maudlin river:” “Magdalen” became “maudlin” because Mary Magdalen was routinely depicted as weeping for her sins. As a river, spreading and circulating gossip by way of the chatty washerwomen on its banks, this all got started with (“and what do you think my Madeleine saw” (.8-9). 586.12-3: “adding a din a ding or do:” adding a thing or two to the version of the scandal in circulation, in a process of continuing augmentation. Compare the last pages of I.2, where the rumor against HCE grows from a trickle to a flood, accompanied by Rossini’s “La calunnia e un venticello,” about a (“venticello”) little wind (“si propaga, si roddoppia”) spreading and redoubling. 586.16: “the mulctman:” a door-to-door milkman would be natural as yet another carrier of the rumor. 586.18: “a homelet not a hothel:” a home, not a hotel (or brothel). Still, the Mullingar House had been an inn during coaching days. 586.20-587.2: “All…treen:” the voice (compare 141.8-26) is mainly Sackerson’s, following a paragraph dominated by Kate and company. As elsewhere in FW, manservant accompanies housemaid. 586.21: “scalded of that couverfowl:” see McHugh: “couverfowl” – French couvre-feu – curfew. One of Sackerson’s chores is to “nightcoover all fireglims” (141.15); it would not be surprising if he sometimes got scalded in the process. 586.23-4: “sammel up all wood’s haypence and riviers argent:” gathering up the money, worthless (wooden) coins included – perhaps part of his bar-tending duties 586.23: “riviers argent:” compare 559.4: “Argentine in casement” – coins, perhaps silver, stacked at the bottom of the window frame. Also, Ireland’s Silver River. Also, Bonheim notes that viers is German for four; see next entry. 586.23-5: “(half back from three grants multaplussed on a twentylot add allto a fiver with the deuce or roamer’s numbers ell a fee and do little ones):” “twentylot” is presumably a pound (20 shillings), “fiver” can be slang for a five-pound note but here seems to be a crown (five shillings), and “deuce” is (archaic) slang for a twopence. As McHugh notes, Roman numerals L (“ell”), V (“fee”) and II (“two little ones”) equal LVII. (But 57 (see the “Heinz cans” of 581.5 – Heinz’s advertised 57 varieties) of what unit? Pence?) In computation of British “l/s/d” – “ell a fee” – it would be 50 pounds, five shillings and two pence, which seems unlikely, as it does that “three grants” could be three grand/three thousand. And does “multaplussed” mean multiplied or added? And “half back from?” From what? (For the whole performance, compare the supposedly backward milkwoman of “Telemachus:” “Bill, sir? She said, halting. Well, its seven mornings a pint at twopence is seven twos is a shilling and twopence over and these three mornings a quart at fourpence is three quarts is a shilling. That’s a shilling and one and two is two and two, sir.” As a feat of memory in the computation of Britain’s arcane pre-decimal currency, this is surely impressive.) Also, compare 321.26-7, where again Sackerson scoops up the money from the bar. To further complicate, the language jibes with Sackerson’s job of beating the bounds (.21-2), that is (McHugh) “mark[ing] parish boundaries by striking with stick,” that is (see 141.9-10 and note) shooing off trespassers. Thus the topography he is roaming is, as usual, outdoors, including woods, hay, rivers, and thrushes, as measured in “parasangs” (.27). See next entry. 586.25: “roamer’s numbers ell a fee and do little ones:” yet another way of doing the numbers: forget the (“roamer’s”) Roman part, and add up (“ell”even, with its two l’s – with my font, as with others, the same character serves for number one and, lower case, the twelfth letter of the alphabet; thus “III” can be either a capitalized “ill” or Roman number 3 – as a hint), then (“fee”) three, then (“do”) two…ones: 1132. 586.25-6: “with the caboosh on him:” compare “with a hump of grandeur on him like a walking wiesel rat” (197.3-4). 586.25-6: “the caboosh on him:” expression: to put the kibosh on: to squelch. Also, caubeen: Anglo-Irish for an old, battered hat or cap; compare 622.7. 586.27: “parasangs:” pair of songs. What follows (.27-8: see McHugh) will be a Swiss song concluded/interrupted with the yodel of line 29. 586.27: “mean fawthery eastend appullcelery:” my father eats apples and celery. Many recipes, mostly for salads, include both. 586.27: “eastend:” east end: in general, the poorer and less fashionable side of London 586.29-31: “he would mac siccar of inket goodsforetombed ereshiningem of light turkling eitheranny of thuncle’s windopes:” 1. See .21 and note. Sackerson sees to the curfew, or its modern, much milder equivalent. Compare the end of II.1, where, as (258.30-1) “Garda Didymus and Garda Domas” (Garda: police) he is apparently the one in charge of the rule that the children must be indoors after dark. During periods of its strictest enforcement, for instance under the “old right” (.20) of William’s Norman rule, any house with lights showing through its windows after curfew would be subject to the law. Sackerson is also the resident policeman. At night, he is also the one charged with shuttering the establishment: 23.4-5, 111.23-4, 371.16-7, 372.5. 2. At dawn, he is the opposite, charged with taking down the shutters: 593.7-8, 595.31-2. 3. Again, this records a noticing of the dawn’s light, starting to make its way through the windows and blinds. (Why “turkling?” Long shot: perhaps because the morning light is coming from the east, land of the Turks.) 586.30: “turkling:” darkling. Following on “thrushes” at .26, an appropriation of Hardy’s poem about a nightingale in winter, “The Darkling Thrush.” (Again, why? Perhaps because dawn can resemble dusk, and nightingales sing during both.) 586.31: “thuncle’s:” dunkle: German for dark 586.32-3: “his boots:” Sackerson is the inn’s Boots – its boot- and shoe-shiner. (As such, a reminder of the Mullingar House’s days as an inn; again, much of his identity seems to harken back to bygone times - of the curfew, for example.) During Joyce’s time, overnight guests in respectable lodgings routinely left their footwear in front of the room door, to be cleaned during the night. 586.32-4: “if he brought his boots to pause in peace, the one beside the other one, right on the road he would seize no sound from cache or cave beyond the flow of the wand was gypsing water:” if he would stop, stay still, and make no noise, the only sound to be heard would be from the Liffey, flowing by. This goes on to describe the river’s noise in language similar to that heard by the washerwomen of I.8. 586.32-3: “the one beside the other:” the boots he’s wearing, side by side 586.34: “wand:” wind; compare 577.2: “wind thin mong them treen.” Also, dowser’s wand, traditionally a hazel branch: compare next entry, and note “hazelight” of 587.3 586.34: “gypsing water:” gypsies as dowsers. See previous entry. 586.35-587.1: “telling now, telling him all, all about ham and livery, stay and toast ham in livery, and buttermore with murmurladen, to waker oats for him on livery:” the sound of the river prompts recollections of ALP. As McHugh notes, this recalls the gossiping washerwomen of I.8. (See also 584.31 and note.) As throughout that chapter, white-noisy sounds (moving waters, or (“wind thin mong treen” (587.2)) the wind in the trees, evoke projections revealing the hearer’s preoccupations – here, because it’s morning and, with “his hoonger” (.29) he’s hungry for breakfast, “toast ham in livery” (.36) etc. (A frequent Joyce effect: the conscience-stricken Stephen of Portrait, chapter three, hearing murmury night noises as people talking about him, saying things like “We knew perfectly well” etc; the Bloom of “Circe” hearing the mutterings of policemen as “Bloom. Of Bloom. For Bloom. Bloom;” many others examples.) 586.35: “livery, stay:” liver, tay (Irish pronunciation of tea) 587.2: “Loab at cod then herring or wind thin mong them treen:” Bonheim: Lobet Gott, den Herrn: German: Praise God the Lord. Also, Look at all those herrings. Breakfast is being anticipated, and kippered herrings were a standard feature of British breakfasts. Also, Look at all those herrings winding among the streams; listen to the wind blowing among the trees. Since 586.34, water and wind have been virtually interchangeable. 587.2: “wind thin mong them treen:” Yeats poetry volume The Wind Among the Trees. See next entry. 587.3: “Hiss!:” the sound of the wind among the trees. (Perhaps also herrings “wind”ing through the (“treen”) stream. Followed by “Kiss!” (.5), “Sish!” (.19), then “Briss!” (.31) 587.3: “hazelight:” see 586.34 and note. Dowsing is done with a hazel branch. Also, the hazy light of dawn, present since the “Fog was thaas” of 555.1. (Or, actually, before then: as at the beginning of “Circe,” the “White fogbow” of 403.6, following on a heavy thunderstorm.) As McHugh says, the “Faurore!” of 587.1 includes French aurore, dawn – in this case a hazy one. 587.3: “Which we had:” sign of lower-orders speech 587.3: “cert:” slang for certain or certainly, especially in wagering. Occurs in “Aeolus” 587.5: “No kidd:” No kidding – a popular Americanism 587.6: “stood us:” paid for our drinks (and cigarettes and chocolates). All in all, this sounds pretty dubious to me. I suspect that this genial treater is what Bloom calls a “police tout” or some other kind of informer, out to inveigle information about the park scandal and anything else he can learn. In any case, if that’s his game, it works: one of Joyce’s lifelong tenets was that the Irish are exceptionally prone to betraying their own. As McHugh notes, one of the soldiers, “Fred Watkins” (.19), turns into or turns out to be Fred Atkins, prosecution witness at Wilde’s second trial; also, see .36 and note. 587.6: “a couple of Mountjoys” – two pints of Mountjoy beer 587.7: “woodbines:” compare 351.12: “Woodbine Willy.” Woodbine Cigarettes were a favorite of British soldiers during WW I. 587.4: “auxy:” oxy (slang for Oxford student? It occurs in “Telemachus.”) Seems incongruous for a couple of soldiers, but “Cambridge” shows up at .8-9, and, as in Ulysses, for Joyce, Oxford - “manner of Oxenford” (“Scylla and Charybdis”) - connoted homosexuality. See .19-26 and note. 587.7: “cadbully’s:” includes cad and bully – two fixtures of the Book I’s encounter in the park, here being recalled by way of the soldiers at line 2. 587.7: “choculars:” joculars (from “drolleries puntomine” (.8)) 587.9: “Teddy Ales:” Teddy Tales, a collection of morally improving stories for children 587.9-10: “laying, crown jewels to a peanut:” exorbitant odds in a bet – an even more uneven version of “dollars to donuts,” or “Oxen of the Sun”’s “guinea to a goosegog” 587.10: “old noseheavy:” given soldiering context, the big-nosed Wellington. “Lads” in the next line may come from Wellington’s Waterloo order, “Up, lads, and at them!” Waterloo’s Blucher shows up at .17. 587.10: “a wouldower:” a would-be widower 587.11-2: “taking low his Whitby hat, lopping off the froth:” Whitbread’s is and was a popular brand of porter, here with the “head” being scraped or lopped off – a familiar sight in Irish pubs. Also, a white top, for instance of hair or hat, is a recurring identifier of HCE. 587.12: “with all respectfulness to the old country:” spoken by the man doing the treating, and, to your suspicious annotator, ambiguous – see .6 and note. “With all due respect” usually precedes, more or less disingenuously, some major point of disagreement. The “old country” would presumably be Ireland – but perhaps in this case that really is a presumption, and a test. 587.14-5: “the pitchur that he’s turned to weld the wall:” 1. In context, sounds like a picture of “our allhallowed king” (.14), to which he is directing his and their attention. (Probably not the pub’s almanac picture, unless he’s assuming or choosing to assume that the picture’s principal horseman is really the king.) Again (see previous entry), possibly a test: you do revere the king, don’t you? 2. The expression “turning his face to the wall,” before dying – in which case it would not be just the king but the late king, therefore “allhallowed.” (All Hallows, in some cultures, is the Day of the Dead.) 3. Equally-oppositely, someone’s picture turned to the wall means he has disgraced the household. Given proliferation of allusions to Wilde and the Wilde trial (see .6 and .19-26, with notes), “weld” (.15) probably an overtone of “Wilde.” 4. Expression: the pitcher has gone to the well once too often. (Compare 233.1-2, 438.13-4.) 587.15: “Lawd:” 1. “De Lawd:” The Lord, In blackface productions, especially Green Pastures. 2. Probably Archbishop Laud. The scene imagined here occurs in a church (“afore the whole bleeding churchal” (.15)), and HCE is Anglican. (Therefore, it would be presumed, loyal to the king.) 587.15: “Lawd lengthen him!:” assuming he’s not dead, Long live the king! (McHugh moves it to follow “king” (.14); Oxford editors do not.) On the other hand, one way to lengthen someone is to stretch his neck in a hanging. 587.16: “churchal:” Adaline Glasheen identifies this as Winston Churchill, in his WW I capacity as First Lord the Admiralty. Note presence of “submarine” (.17), “in port” (.17), and “palships” (.18). 587.19: “Who true to me?:” Christiani: Hven truer mig: Danish for “Who threatens me?” Jimmy (.4) has begun the talk again. 587.19: “Sish!:” continues from “Hiss!” (.3), “Kiss!” (.5) – the sound of the wind in the trees, heard in (“hazelight” (.3)) hazy light, and therefore exceptionally suggestive, in this case interpreted or remembered in a context of kissy-face Wildean effeminacy 587.19-26: “Sish! Honeysuckler…my young lady here…she calls him…pet…sinnerettes…daintylines, Elsies from Chelsies:” For .21-2, Oxford editors replace “him, dip the colours, pet, when he commit” with “him when he dip the colours, pet and commit.” Not all of these items are equally incriminating, but they do add up to a pretty heavy-handed imputation of homosexuality. Fred Atkins (see .6 and note) was one of Wilde’s rent boys. 587.22: “Melmoth in Natal:” Melmoth the Wanderer, by Charles Maturin. As McHugh notes, the name “Sebastian Melmoth” was adopted by Wilde after leaving prison. There is in fact a town of this name in the region of South Africa once called Natal. 587.22: “commit his certain questions vivaviz:” a bit garbled, but courtroom language – in this case, of the Wilde trial 587.22-3: “the secret empire of the snake:” “The Secret Empire of the Snake” was the name of an article by F. G. Cochran, “as told to Hans Christian Adamson,” in the February 1935 issue of Cosmopolitan. Based on an account from, supposedly, another source, it described a “secret empire” of “snake men, ruled over by a snake emperor,” in Africa. This empire’s specialty was an array of medicines which cured all snake bites and turned people into “putty-willed robots.” I can’t determine its supposed African location, but “Natal” (.21) seems unlikely. Cosmopolitan was a Hearst publication, and other Hearst papers gave the story considerable play. 587.24: “which it was on a point of our sutton down:” see previous entry. They were on the verge of setting it down on paper. 587.24: “sinnerettes:” customs question: any cigarettes to declare? (In context, probably one of the party asking if anyone present has a spare cigarette he can bum.) Also, sins, sinners, sinner-ettes – the latter, given the context, not girls but effeminate boys. Also, a version of male or female penitent declaring her sins to her confessor – an arrangement that Joyce often suspects of having sexual dimensions 587.24: “Phiss!:” following one line after “snake,” a snake’s hissing 587.25: “Touching our Phoenix Rangers’ nuisance:” again – see note to .6 - I suspect that acquiring information about HCE and the Phoenix Park scandal has been the questioner’s goal all along, to which he has been disingenuously leading up. Compare Bloom’s version, in “Lestrygonians,” of such a pumping session from a “plainclothes” man: “And who is the gentleman does be visiting there? Was the young master saying anything?” (It’s not clear to me whether this is him, “Touching” on the question, or a response to his inquiries; in any case, one or other of the soldiers does the talking from at least .25 on until 588.25, when Issy, having been introduced into the conversation, takes over.) 587.25-6: “the meeting of the waitresses:” back to the park scene, where the two girls, at least in most versions, have been seen urinating. In “Lestrygonians,” Bloom reflects that “they did right” to put a statue of Thomas Moore, author of “The Meeting of the Waters,” above a public urinal. 587.26-7: “legglegels:” as in leg show – a performance in which women performers – (“-gels”) gals - exposed their legs. This completes the reprise of Book I’s scandal – soldiers, “Phoenix” (.25) Park, two temptresses, old white-headed male guilty of something or other. Overtone of legal-legal may be an assurance that they’re both above the age of consent. 587.27: “pest of parkies:” see 39.13, 558.15, 587.27. Also, as McHugh notes, the three plants to follow, twitch grass, thistle, and charlock, are weeds – what gardeners would consider “pest”s. Here they also constitute a “nuisance” for the girls – the “waitresses,” “daintylines” – seeking a safe, secret, non-irritating location for open-air urination, a common feature of the park scandal. Also, the three soldiers/rangers of the park scandal, perhaps with a (very) approximate sounding of Tom, Dick, and Harry 587.27: “parkies:” parties, as in legal document 587.29: “we foregathered:” “gathered” in the sense of understood, here, either prophetically or in advance of the rest 587.29-30: “raw in cane sugar:” raw sugar – left after refining process. Compare 29.28. 587.31: “That’s him wiv his wig on:” HCE: the “wig” in Earwicker/earwigger. Also, see 559.25 and 578.4-5, with notes, .32 and note. 587.31-2: “achewing of his maple gum:” maple-flavored chewing gum, giving him his “scented” mouth (.34). It existed. Still, the main idea is probably that, as a toothless “grainpopaw” (.32), he is masticating his gums. Joyce had the last of his teeth pulled around the time he began work on FW. 587.32: “our grainpopaw, Mister Beardall:” as a rule, HCE has a moustache, not a full beard, but there are occasional exceptions, for instance at 260 LM 1 (and see 625.2-3), and a beard would fit the standard image of a (“grainpopaw”) grandfather. (Also of a rabbi, out to “trespass against” the speaker by performing – yikes! - a “Briss!” (.30-1).) 587.34: “told us privates:” told us private – that is, privately 587.34-5: “told us privates out of his own scented mouf he used to was:” compare 34.34-5, where HCE, surprised in the park by the cad, responds with “smoked sardinish breath.” The exchange began the rumor which has dogged him ever since. Here he’s telling them that he used to “was” “a great one” (.33). 587.36: “chapelgoer:” a low-church Protestant; contradicts, or complements, “MacCawthelock” – Catholic – of .30. 587.36: “Jocko Nowlong:” McHugh has “Jibbo Nolan: hero of O’Flaherty’s The Informer (1925).” Two corrections here: the name is Gypo Nolan, and, as the informer of the title, Nolan is hardly a hero. I note this because it makes both of the “privates” being interviewed at least part-time informers: again, see .6 and note. 588.1: “boosy:” boozy – drunk 588.2: “Freda:” at 587.20 Fred was a “young lady.” Adding an “a” to the end of his name – he is, after all, remembered fondling his comrade (.1) - continues the imputation. Compare the Bella-Bello sex-change of “Circe.” 588.2: “don’t be an emugee” (M-U-G (see McHugh) instead of “being a refugee” (587.18). 588.2-3: “Carryone:” Carry on 588.3: “woylde:” Brooklynese pronunciation of “world” 588.4: “honeysuckler:” bears suck honey. The Russian general (see next) was, off and on, a bear; FW’s sleeper is, at times, a “hiberniating” (315.15-6) bear or other wintering animal. Joyce was born on February 2, Groundhog day in America and, in some other cultures (German, Russian, Celtic) the day on which a badger, bear, hedgehog or other animal does or does not show itself. (If he doesn’t, the time to wake up will be on or around March 21st.) Earwigs hibernate too. 588.5: “wiv his defences down during his wappin stillstand:” recalls the Russian general of II.3, his pants down during what ought to have been a (“weeping stillstumms” (347.11)) waffenstillstand, armistice. (Note “truce” at .19; at 587.18 the soldiers were “trucers.”) See .15-34 and note. 588.6: “Jamessime:” 1. Jimmy/James, one of the two soldiers: as with Fred/Freda (.2), his name has been feminized, along the order of Jamesine, Jessamyn, Jemima, Jasmine… 2. The “-essi-“ serves to introduce Issy, whose voice, with some intermittences, will fade in as theirs fades away. See next entry. 588.6: “pip it:” again, two-dot Morse signal from Issy 588.8: “Way you fly!:” a honeysucker (587.19, 588.4) is a bird. 588.8: “flouncies:” flounces: ornamental appendages to a skirt 588.9-10: “musichall visit and pair her fiefighs fore him:” again (see 587.26-7), a (music hall) leg show:” she’s (“pair”) baring her thighs – the pair of them – for him, in the audience. “Fiefighs” because there are two of them. The (vertical) pair of legs, plus the two i’s, constitute a redundant Issy signature, whose voice will become more pronounced up until .34. 588.10: “fiefighs fore him:” fee fie fo fum 588.11: “lay up two bottles:” like laying down wine bottles in a cellar 588.12: “shandy:” mixture of beer and lemonade. Given the festivities, probably an echo of shindy 588.15-34: “Following…erewold:” again, much in this paragraph revisits the shooting of the Russian general (338.5-350.9) – the park scandal of Book I blends with parricide of Book II. 588.15: “up to seepoint, neath kingmount shadow:” since (McHugh) Seapoint is in Dún Laoghaire, formerly Kingstown, the shadow probably comes from the Kingstown Obelisk, commemorating George IV’s 1821 departure after his visit to Ireland. Here, it seems to be the point of arrival for soldiers from overseas duty, probably in WW I. Most of .15-34 fits this scenario. The arrivers being greeted – “Atkins,” the two troopers of “troopertwos” (.18), “Tom” (.23), twice ordered to fall in (.21, .22), are, at least for a while, soldiers. Compare next entry and entry for .18. 588.16: “whose nathem’s banned:” possibly “nathem” as anagram of “anthem,” also incorporating “nation’s anthem,” that being “The Soldier’s Song,” written about 1910 near the height of the home-rule dispute and definitely anti-English in sentiment. It was accordingly banned for a while after the war, during the incursion of the Black and Tans. (See first note to .18.) Also, Nathan was the prophet who accused David of adultery. 588.16: “hofd a-hooded:” Mink identifies as Howth, as in Head of Howth. (“Hoved” is Danish for “head.”) This would be among the first landmarks looked for by anyone returning home. 588.16-7: “hofd a-hooded, welkim warsail:” Christiani: compare “Woodin Warneung” of 503.28. Here it is Odin as Grimnir, the Hooded One, about to release the Flood. “Hvilket varsel:” Danish for What a warning! 588.18: “Mr Black Atkins and you tanapanny troopertwos:” as McHugh notes, the Black and Tans. They were WW I British soldiers, many of them brutalized by their time in the trenches and conspicuously brutal in their later mission, shipped to Ireland to put down nationalist home-rule ferment. They got their name from their hastily put-together, mismatched uniforms – some parts tan, some parts black. 588.18: “tanapanny:” ten-a-penny: WW I slang for rapid-fire “pompom gun.” Also, a phrase signifying near worthlessness, as such a slur on the troops. 588.19-20: “Was truce of snow, moonmounded snow? Or did wolken hang o’er earth in umber hue his fulmenbomb?:” Was it peace or war? Snow (compare the end of “The Dead”) falling gently on living and dead, moonlight softening the rounded snowscape into dimly luminous mounds, or a fire-and-ash volcanic cloud? Probably referring to the battlefield from which the soldiers have arrived, after the truce – the 1918 Armistice. 588.19: “truce:” trace 588.20: “wolken:” welkin 588.20: “umber hue:” prompts or precedes “Number two coming!” (.21), in turn followed by “number one” (.24-5). What are they? Best guess: both recall the Russian general sequence. 1. two rounds of (“fulmenbomb” (.20); see next) incoming ordnance, mistaken for or accompanied by lightning and thunder – hence (“Full inside!” (.21)) Fall aside! 2. childish bathroom-talk: number one, then number two. Note two-one order: in “Calypso,” Bloom defecates, then urinates. The Russian general scenario was notably dark and stormy (and defecatory), and “umbraged” by his “shadow” (354.9). 588.20: “fulmenbomb:” firmament, lit up by bomb blasts and/or lightning and thunder 588.21-2: “mean amount of cloud:” commoner expressions are “mean amount” of “rain” or “precipitation,” but weather surveys do (and did, in Joyce’s time) sometimes include this phrase, for instance for the average cloud cover in a given month. 588.22: “pitter rain:” as in rain’s pitter-patter. Compare 571.1-25, with McHugh’s note on the corresponding Tristan and Iseult episode as reported by Bédier. This also reintroduces the similar story begun at 587.2, with “Hiss!” – listening, divinatorily, for messages from the sounds of wind or (“If the waters could speak!” (.22-3)) water. (Compare the “muttering rain” of Joyce’s poem “She Weeps Over Rahoon.”) Next in the series will be “Triss!” (.29), triste – (“pitter”) bitter – news about Tristan, as heard by Issy from “windy arbour”s (.32) trees, “waving” (.30) and “trembold”ing (.33) in the wind. “Bitter rain,” sometimes signifying tears, is a fairly common phrase denoting experiences or feelings of desolation. 588.23-4: “Timgle Tom, pall the bell! Izzy’s busy down the dell!:” responds to wish that “the waters could speak.” “Timgle:” tinkle: sound of (girls, usually) urinating, probably mingling with (see previous entry) rain’s pitter-patter. “Pall:” peal. From here until at least “Triss!” (.29), and perhaps until “erewold” (.34), Issy’s voice (especially as presented at 527.3-528.13) is emergent. From here to the end of the paragraph, the company addressed, in some form of “Miss” (“Mizpah,” “misled,” “You miss” (.24, .25, .26), is female. 588.24: “Mizpah:” shorthand for a well-meaning verse: compare 306.7 and note. It can signal a reconciliation between former rivals. 588.28: “Esch so eschess:” S O S. Again, here and for the rest of the paragraph, listeners are hearing or imagining messages from the sounds of the landscape. 588.28: “douls a doulse:” do si dos: back to back: a figure in square dancing, here performed with one’s sweetheart 588.32-4: “All the trees in the wood they trembold, humbild, when they heard the stoppress from domday’s erewold:” compare III.4: “All the birds of the sea they trolled out rightbold when they smacked the big kuss of Trustan with Usolde” (383.17-8). Here, the sound is from native trees, all given distinctly Irish names - as McHugh notes, three of them (William Smith O’Brien, Daniel O’Connell, Archibald Hamilton Rowan) champions of Irish interests against England. (But then, McHugh also has “barkertree” (.30) as the conservative Edmund Burke.) 588.33-4: “stoppress:” newspaper including late-breaking items; mentioned in “Penelope” 588.35: “ribboned:” as for a maypole (.589.1), but the mistletoe (.26, 35: see McHugh) has it doubling as a Christmas tree. (Or, since this is Ireland, land of the Druids, the mistletoe’s sacred tree, the oak.) 588.35-6: “two pretty mistletots, ribboned to a tree, up rose liberator:” Daniel O’Connell, the Liberator (McHugh), was famously promiscuous and, in Bloom’s word, “breedy.” The following lines, up to 589.11, will commemorate the multiplications of his patriarchal seed and the accompanying accumulation of profits and property – two to three to four to two fifties to a hundred, up to his status as “hugest commercial emporialist,” with farflung sons and daughters (589.9-11). The “ribboned to a tree” goes with the (“maypoleriding”) maypole (589.1), usually assumed to be part of a mating dance. 588.36: “fancy, they were free!:” expression: fancy-free. Again, O’Connell was the Liberator, and he was fond of “pretty” women. This combines both. (“Fancy” is a common expression, short for “If you can fancy that.”) 589.1: “made lasses like lads love maypoleriding:” 1. caused the girls to be fond of the boys; 2. caused them both to be fond of the rituals of “maypoleriding” (.1); see next entry. 589.1: “maypoleriding:” compare “up the pole” in “Telemachus,” which according to the OED means “pregnant but unmarried.” Maypole celebrations were widely considered to be fertility rites. Also, oppositely: “riding the pole:” being forced to sit astride a long pole as it is carried around – a volkische punishment for henpecked husbands, old husbands married to young wives, etc. 589.2-3: “dotted our green with tricksome couples, fiftyfifty, their chiltern’s hundred:” “Fifty-fifty” is an American expression for an even match or deal. Here, fifty male-female couples, adding up to a hundred in all, on the village green, tricksomely producing what will add up to a hundred children. (That half of them were daughters makes him a “dotter” = see 372.3 and 583.10, with notes.) The OED has a definition of “tricksome” as “sportive” and includes an example where the words describes flirtatious misses. 589.2: ”dotted our geen with tricksome couples:” three-two: here, the three soldiers and two girls of the park scandal 589.4-5: “rushroads to riches:” expression: road to riches. Much of what follows will be tracking the male protagonist’s financial fortunes. 589.4-5: “rushroads to riches crossed slums of lice:” could describe the programs of many gentrifying civic planners, Baron Haussmann being the best-known. In general, he makes his riches at the expense of the poor – a running theme throughout: see, for instance, the note to .8-9. 589.6-7: “brewing treble to drown grief:” brewing liquor (McHugh has “treble stout,” Oxford editors do not) in which to drown his grief. Also, “treble:” trouble, as in the expression “There’s trouble brewing.” Also, brewing table: I can’t determine what part it plays in making beer, but the term shows up on relevant websites. 589.7: “mayom and tuam:” me and you – a variation of FW’s ubiquitous “mishe mishe to tauftauf” (3.8-9). 589.7-8: “playing milliards with his three golden balls:” 1. The version of billiards here would be “carom billiards,” played with three balls on a table without pockets. Wikipedia informs me that what was formerly its “plain white cue ball” was replaced in modern times by “a yellow ball.” 2. Victorian fiction abounds in stories of extravagant English “milords” falling into the hands of money-lenders and pawnbrokers, with their three golden balls. The progress on review here is one of both profit and profiteering; compare, for instance, the next three entries. 589.8-9: “landed self-interest:” in Ireland especially, “landed interest” was a term for the land-owning members of the Protestant Ascendancy, some of them absentee landlords, collecting rents from the native tenant farmers. Compare note to 590.7. Joyce’s change to “self-interest” constitutes a value judgment. 589.9: “weighty on the bourse:” he has or had a heavy purse – is or was rich – but perhaps by way of some book-cooking chicanery along the way. As McHugh notes, “his index on the balance” (.13) compares him to a butcher or grocer putting his thumb on the scale. For HCE as grocery store owner, see note to 78.12-3. At 590.1 his inventory will include “dry goods,” being flooded. 589.13: “a guinea by a groat:” compare (as in “Circe”) “a penny in the pound” – a bankrupt’s court-ordered rate of payback to creditors. “Groat” is conventionally next-to-nothing, “guinea” a mark of superfluous wealth. 589.14-5: “the boguey which he snatched in the baggage coach ahead:” sentimental 19th century folksong “In the Baggage Coach Ahead.” A man on a train is cradling a crying baby. Told to fetch the mother so that she can quiet it down, he answers that she’s dead, that her body is in the baggage coach ahead. Probable overtone of “body-snatcher” – see next entry. Oxford editors replace “boguey” with “bogey.” 589.15-7: “Going forth on the prowl, master jackill under night and creeping back, dog to hide, over morning. Humbly to fall and cheaply to rise:” body- snatchers (see previous entry) were human jackals (jackals are dogs, supposed to dig up and eat the dead) prowling graveyards at night; “fall and…rise,” probably, because they were also called “resurrection men.” Also, besides (McHugh) Jekyll and Hyde, Jack the Ripper (as cited by Glasheen), in some versions (including “Circe”) a real-life Jekyll-Hyde, living respectably by day and doing his ripping at night. (Joyce reverses Stevenson’s version – here it’s Jekyll as jackal, the creature of night, turning into Hyde as dog in the morning. The equation of the two probably reflects Joyce’s dislike of dogs in general.) 589.20-590.3: “First…bankrump:” FW’s final seven-stage summing-up. As such, it revises elements of the earlier, seven-numbered accountings of 3.5-14, 104.10-14, 126.16-24, and, to some extent, 175.7-28. The “junelooking flamefaces” that “straggled wild” through his “wicket” (.23-4), for instance, recall the “voice from afire” of 3.9 and later variations. This time around, the Phoenix Park scandal, subject of FW’s opening chapters and of, approximately, the preceding three pages, 586-8, is a major or the major source of recollections – the temptresses, some sort of “foulplay” involving a discharge of water (eventually, in fact, a flood), the three soldiers (“three boy buglehorners”), the rumor, ruckus, assault, window-breaking, self-seclusion, “remembrances,” and lingering suspicions and regrets – in at least approximate order the major sequential phases of Book I. Numbers proliferate, and as usual some of them require judgment calls: Does “First” (.20) count as one? Or the “one” (.19) just before the sequence begins? Does “foulplay” (.27) include “four-ply,” or “heptark” (590.2) seven? If limited to cardinal numbers (ruling out, for instance, “First” (.20) and “dozen” (.26)), this is close, but only close, to a seven-based countdown: “seven” (.20), “six” (.22), “fives’” (.27), “two” (.28), “four” (.30), “three” (.32), “two” again (.33) – those last three, your annotator is betting, reintroduced in that order in honor of 432 A.D., traditional (and FW) number for the year of Saint Patrick’s Day. As for the final entry on the list, under FW’s elastic numerical protocols it could plausibly be counted as one (“the crowning barleystraw,” the last straw), seven (“heptark”) or zero (bankrupt). In any case, the “heptark” of the last of the seven clauses coincides with HCE’s signature number seven, and probably signals that, like FW, the end can double back to the first beginning, with its “seven days” of Creation. (590.9-11 will contradict.) 589.20: “seven days licence:” as opposed to a six-day licence/license: a pub’s authorization to serve drinks on every day of the week, including Sunday. Compare 355.24-7. As in Genesis, God is authorizing the seventh day as one of relaxation, in this case with drink. 589.21: “he wandered out of his farmer’s health:” left his father’s house. (In “Eumaeus,” Bloom asks Stephen why he “left his father’s house.” Biblical figures who might qualify include Abraham, Jacob, Jesus, and, especially, the prodigal son; also, see next entry.) Compare .27 and note. In doing so, he lost his former health. 589.21-2: “and so lost his early parishlife:” given the context, a probable overtone of “earthly paradise.” Another home-leaver is Adam, from Eden. 589.22-25: “Then (‘twas in fenland) occidentally of a sudden, six junelooking flamefaces straggled wild out of their turns through his parsonfired wicket, showing all shapes of striplings in sleepless tights:” can’t explain why the “flamefaces” should number six, but this sounds like the arrival of children. “Fenland” is Ireland, in the (“occidentally”) west. 589.24: “parsonfired wicket:” a man named Earwicker, personifying a wick, or wicket, or wickedness. (Also, a turnpike keeper named Porter could do the same for a (McHugh) wicket, small door, “porte.”) 589.24-5: “sleepless tights:” blends two mutually contradictory expressions: sleep tight, sleepless night. 589.25-6: “very properly a dozen generations:” if the “times” were “undated” (.25), “properly” may include “probably.” 589.26: “main chanced:” as in “eye for the main chance.” In a review of the ups and downs of his career, this is one instance of opportunism that didn’t pan out. 589.27: “misflooded his fortunes:” In Ulysses, Stephen’s answer to why he left his father’s house: “To seek misfortune.” 589.29: “wading room only:” waiting room only, for expectant fathers. Also – see previous - the best you can hope for, when your premises have been flooded 589.30-1: “four hurrigan gales to smithereen his plateglass:” as recorded at the end of I.2 and into I.3; see especially 44.19-21. 589.30-1: “housewalls:” outwalls. Compare 262.24. 589.31: “the slate for accounts his keeper was cooking:” pub’s slate, keeping record of drinks not paid for. The insinuation, noted by McHugh, that someone was cooking the books goes with other signs of fiscal malfeasance (compare note to 589.9), for instance “counterbezzled” (.32). 589.32-3: “three boy bugleholders...two hussies:” the park scandal’s soldiers and girls 589.34: “the infidels:” refers to the “hussites” (.33) as heretics. Jan Hus was burnt at the stake for heresy. 589.35: “to pay himself off in kind remembrances:” the story, more or less, of the last half of Book I. Given the ongoing thread concerning his fiscal fortunes, “remembrances” may echo “reimbursements.” 589.36: “crowning barleystraw:” expression: the crowning blow. In context, overtone of “barleycorn,” as in “John Barleycorn,” implicates alcohol in his downfall: compare next entry. 589.36: “an explosium of his distilleries:” presumably the Chapelizod distillery mentioned in “A Painful Case;” Joyce’s father worked there. The best-known distillery explosion in Ireland was the “Dublin whiskey fire” of June 18,1875. According to Wikipedia, it flooded the precincts with a river, six inches deep, of whiskey “far more potent” than that usually available. All thirteen fatalities were due, not to the fire, but to alcohol poisoning. 589.36-590.1: “an explosium…deafadumped:” Oxford editors have “deafandumped.” The noise of the explosion made him deaf and dumbfounded. 590.1: “all his dry goods:” again: the Mullingar House included a general store. “Dry goods” are primarily clothing and related items. Here they are being ruined by, in various ways, the precincts being flooded, including by “sinflute” (.1) – Noah’s flood on a sinful world. Many of the calamities listed from 589.20 to 590.3 are flood-like; in fact some of the sequence (e.g. “upon due reflotation, up started four hurrigan gales to smithereen his plateglass housewalls” (589.29-31) read like the ark barely making its way through rough weather. Compare note to 590.4-12. 590.2: “leareyed and letterish:” Leary: king when Patrick arrived. Glasheen notes that FW pairs him with King Lear. Lear is at the end of his power, Leary (“Exuber High Ober King Leary very dead” (612.4)), defeated by Patrick, is the last in a line of pagan kings in Ireland. Also, probably, blear-eyed – yet another FW male authority figure, like its author, to have eye problems (e.g. Isaac), probably, as with Joyce and Noah, caused or made worse by drink. For “letterish” (Joyce was also a man of letters), Brendan O Hehir has Gaelic leitir, wet hillside. 590.3: “on his bankrump:” knocked down onto his rump – and, of course, bankrupt: much of the ruination just reviewed (and about to be re-reviewed) has been financial: “never again,” “swore” “Lloyd’s” of London (.5). “Rump” may also recall Noah’s nakedness when drunk, as witnessed by Ham. 590.4-12: “Pepep…promishles:” gist: now that he’s a “bankrump” (.3), a “Welsher” (.13), and all his schemes and promises are revealed to have been bogus, we will “never again” (.5) believe him or anything he says. The stammering, a signature of HCE when under duress (as, also, with “Wu Welsher” (.13)) is one result. What he was trying to say, but will no longer pass muster, was (“ohoho honest policist” (.4-5)) – honesty is the best policy. Noah, probably the major patriarchal figure in play beginning at 590.20, is much in evidence in this paragraph, especially as the new “covenanter” (.7) with the rainbow colors – the “chamelion” of “falseheaven colours” (full seven, in heaven, but of course he's going to renege somehow, falsely), going in fact beyond the usual seven, from “ultraviolent to subred,” ultraviolet to infrared, the “arch” of the “reignbolt’s,” arc of the rainbow. 590.4: “Pay bearer:” words on many currencies, e.g. “I promise to pay the bearer on demand the sum of twenty pounds.” The point here is that the promise was not honored. 590.6: “beaten wheat:” occurs in 2 Chronicles 2:10. Apparently means wheat threshed for grain. HCE has at times been compared to wheat or other grain crop, the “cropse of our seedfather” (55.9). 590.6: “Sir Joe Meade’s father:” as McHugh records, Joseph Meade was a Lord Mayor of Dublin. His father, Michael Meade (1814-1886) was the head of a major Dublin building firm, responsible for, among many other landmarks, the O’Connell Monument and the Gaiety Theatre. Neither father nor son were ever knighted. 590.7: “They know him, the covenanter:” compare “the planter’s covenant” in “Nestor.” Settlers given land seized from the native Irish were required to make a “covenant” of loyalty to the crown, in the process, surely, earning the enmity of the populace. In “Cyclops,” the citizen denounces Boylan: “We know him, the traitor’s son…We know what put English gold in his pocket.” 590.8: “true falseheaven colours:” true/false colors: false colors are those of a friendly flag being flown falsely by pirates. The seven colors of rainbow would presumably include both, indiscriminately – but, if he’s a “chameleon” (.7), still false, and, if a comedian, the fool’s motley. Earlier, the male principal was always dressed in seven colors, signifying the highest possible status: according to the one-through-seven rankings of Brehon Law, only the High King was entitled to all seven colors. Things have changed. 590.8-9: “ultraviolent to subred tissues:” speaking of “beaten wheat” (.6) and other signs of abuse, this sounds as if one reason for his multi-coloredness is cuts and bruises, black and blue. 590.9-10: “That’s his last tryon to march through the grand tryomphal arch:” The last march through the Arc de Triomphe was on the end of WW I. Since the 1921 burial there of France’s unknown soldier, all marches (even Germany’s, in 1940) have gone around, to avoid walking over the grave. 590.9-10: “tryon…tryomphal:” compare “Just you try it on,” as spoken by an evangelist at the end of “Oxen of the Sun,” where an expiring soul is about to try on a new incarnation. Also, given context of financial malfeasance, Eric Patridge on “try-on:” “An attempt...to ‘best’ someone, e.g. an extortionate charge.” 590.10: “tryomphal:” omphalos 590.10: “His reignbolt’s shot:” he’s shot his bolt; he’s at the end of his reign; the rainbow arc (“tryomphal arch”) of his life has reached its end – three FW ways of saying the same thing. 590.10-12: “How you do like that, Mista Chimepiece? You got nice yum plemtyums. Praypaid my promlishes!:” for some reason (because the sun is rising in the east?) this takes on the sound of either stage-Chinese or stage-Japanese: compare 485.29-34. Probably the latter, with (“yum plemtyums”) Yum Yum from The Mikado. 590.11: “Mista Chimepiece:” HCE’s middle name is Chimpden. Long shot: according to the first-light scenario of this chapter, III.4, the sleeper has a “repeater” (559.15) at his bedside. Such watches usually sounded chimes, and it is the time, as at the beginning of the next chapter, for chimes to be ringing. 590.11-2: “Praypaid my promishles:” compare .4 and note. A promissory note – although overtone of “Pray pay,” along with “Welsher “ (.13), raises the kinds of doubts that were already surfacing. 590.13: “beacsate:” Brendan O Hehir’s gloss as beach, Gaelic for bee, seems confirmed by “hiving and “honey” (.14). See .24 and note. 590.14: “of foxold conningnesses:” as cunning as an old fox – not at all the same thing as being honest, and “foxed,” applied to paper, means brown with age spots. Also, “con” in sense of know - perhaps also in sense, current in Joyce’s time of, deception. 590.15-6: “the foremast of the firm:” as opposed to this descendants – “the latters” (.15) 590.16: “At folkmood hailed, at part farwailed:” hail and farewell. “Part” as in parting – a (sad: wailed”) departure. 590.16: “accwmwladed concloud:” sounding “w”s as (double) u’s. Both the doubling-ups and change of “lated” to “laded” may underscore the sense of “accumulated.” A cloud (see next entry) is an accumulation of vapor. 590.17: “concloud, Nuah-Nuah:” compare 159.10-1: “She gave a childy cloudy cry: Nuee! Nueh!” 590.17: “Nebob:” besides (McHugh), nabob, which he was but is no longer, Nebo: the mountain from which Moses first saw the promised land, never to reach it 590.18-19: “the yetst hies hin:” with “yetst” a contraction of something like “yesterday’s west” and “hin” as German for “thither,” this may be the exact point at which FW night becomes day. Lines 19-21 (see next entry) would seem to confirm. McHugh glosses the “Sandyhas!” which begins Book IV (593.1) as “a sandhi (for the time when day& night border on each other.” 590.19-21: “Jeebies, ugh…sweetish mand!:” as in a New Year’s Ring out the old, ring in the new!: Yuck, the old one was awful, oh boy, this new one is sweet! 590.22-3: “Fourth position of solution. How johnny! Finest view from horizon…Dawn!:” FW’s Johnny, in the west, viewing the dawn, in the east. Follows, in this chapter, from “First position of harmony…Matt” (559.21-2), “second position of discordance. Mark!” (564.1-2), and “Third position of concord” (582.29-30). Given the other designations, it’s safe to assume that the third position is Luke’s, and that the four in order correspond, respectively, to north, south, east and west. Their center of focus is evidently the marriage bed introduced, in theatrical terminology, at the beginning of the chapter. From the eastern Mark, the man’s rear “partially eclipses” his wife (564.3); here, in the eyes of “johnny,” in the west, both “Male and female” are “unmask[ed]” (.24), but the female, the “queenbee” (.28), seems foregrounded. (Probably the light of “Dawn” is bringing some increased perspective.) 590.24: “Begum:” “by gum:” American expression, usually indicating provinciality. Goes with Americanism (McHugh) (“puddigood” (.20)), pretty good 590.24: “unmask we hem:” they become more visible in the morning light. 590.24: “Tableau final:” tableau finale: in a pantomime, typically the last and grandest of the transformation scenes, sometimes including all the players 590.25-6: “Dawn, the nape of his nameshielder’s scalp:” early in the next chapter, at 596.24-9, a “shaft” of the dawn light will have moved down and broadened to the (“smalls”) small of his back. 590.26: “Hun!:” honey, for the bear: compare note to .28. 590.26-7: “After having drummed all he dun…Worked out to an inch of his core:” boring down to the core of his being, the dreamer, about to awake, has dreamed through all he’s ever done. 590.26: “drummed all he dun:” dreamed all he’d done – on one level, this is the end of his book-long dream, which as at 3.4-14 and in later recapitulations includes the tradition that in some extreme states, for instance drowning, one’s whole life (in FW, in seven stages) flashes through one’s mind. 590.27: “Worked out to an inch:” worked out to within an inch: a calculation of distance or dimension, accurate to within an inch 590.27: “Ring down:” as in, Ring down the curtain. Appropriate to this endpoint-transition, as would be an echo of Tennyson’s “Ring out the old, ring in the new.” 590.28: “staggerhorned:” staghorn beetle; like its relative the earwig, it hibernates – as, of course, does the “honey” (.14)-seeking bear. (Note: your annotator believes that FW’s default date is in March – specifically, March 21-22. Male bears traditionally come out of hibernation around the middle of March.) 590.30: “Tiers, tiers, and tiers. Rounds:” Books I, II, and III, with the round-again Ricorso chapter to come. “Tiers and tiers” is a common expression for infinite regress, for instance in Elizabeth Bishop’s “Seascape:” “This celestial seascape, with white herons got up as angels, / flying high as they want and as far as they want sidewise / in tiers and tiers of immaculate reflections.” Also, certainly, tears, tears, and tears. Perhaps pertinent that the Globe Theatre – the “wooden O” - had three tiers of seats: McHugh has “(theatre: tiers of seats & rounds of applause).” Also, probably, rounders, a British game similar to baseball. As in baseball, a “rounder” or run – a point – is scored when a batter circles three bases and comes home, back to the beginning. |