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Chapter fifteen
or III.3 offers a seance conducted by Mamalujo using the now-infantile Shaun (aka Yawn) as the medium.
The dream-language grows particularly deep and poetic: [fw]
Lowly, longly, a wail went forth. Pure Yawn lay low. On the mead of the hillock lay, heartsoul dormant... brief wallet to his side, and arm loose, by his staff of citron briar... His dream monologue was over, of cause, but his drama parapolylogic had yet to be...
Pure: so was he less pure in the preceding chapters?
mead = meadow (archaic)
McH: brief wallet ?= mailbag
FDV of trimmed passage: his golden locks downflowing
monologue: ch14 was mostly a monolog, ch13 perhaps a dialog (or catechism)
McH: paralogism = unconscious false reasoning; polylogy = loquacity
Nov22 note [qv]: "Stories monologue 1 pers[on] to 1 / 1 [person to] 2 / 2 [person to] 1 / 2 [person to] 2 / polylogue (broadcasting)"
The Ulysses schema [table] identifies Proteus and Penelope as monologs (male and female), Nestor and Ithaca as catechisms (personal and impersonal).
Most distressfully... to wail he did... those lashbetasselled lids on the verge of closing time,
FDV: his lashful lids at closing time
closing time: McH suggests 'death'. NO Brown used this phrase as the title of his book on Vico and FW. It implies Yawn is the pub, and/or is a drunk patron (or the owner). It may suggest he's not quite asleep-- cf 'on the verge of opening'.
whiles ouze of his sidewiseopen mouth the breath of him... languishing as the princeliest treble treacle...
FDV: as sweet as any golden syrup you could buy
Yawn in a semiswoon lay awailing and (hooh!)... which earpiercing dulcitude! As were you suppose to go and push with your bluntblank pin in hand upinto his fleshasplush cushionettes of some chubby boybold love of an angel. Hwoah!
Mamalujo are drawn by Yawn's crying:
When, as the buzzer brings the light brigade, keeping the home fires burning, so on the churring call themselves came at him, from the westborders of the eastmidlands, three kings of three suits and a crowner, from all their cardinal parts, along the amber way where Brosna's furzy.
Ch16 [qv] will replay this scene, but with HCE and ALP visiting the crying Shem.
FDV: home wires [lyric&midi] [John McC RealAud]
churr: whirring noise made by some insects and birds (eg partridges)
crowner: (how is Johnny so different?)
amber way: ancient trading route for Baltic amber [cite] [info] (also excretory passage?)
McH: river Brosna at center of Ireland, meeting point of four provinces (cf Pierce Brosnan) [map]
FDV: by furzy Brosna
furze: spiny yellow-flowered European shrub (aka gorse)
They are Lilliputians climbing Gulliver:
To lift them they did, senators four, by the first quaint skreek of the gloaming and they hopped it up the mountainy molehill, traversing climes of old times gone by of the days not worth remembering; inventing some excusethems, any sort, having a sevenply sweat of night blues moist upon them. Feefee! phopho!! foorchtha!!! aggala!!!! jeeshee!!!!! paloola!!!!!! ooridiminy!!!!!!!
FDV: inventing excuses
sevenply: so, a rainbow?
McH: many words for fear: phobos (Greek), Furcht (German), aggaly (Hungarian), paura (Italian, palula = infantile)
(So they expect to be judged or attacked by Yawn? The fear of the old for the young!?)
He's as wide as the zodiac: [fw]
Afeared themselves were to wonder at the class of a crossroads puzzler he would likely be... ells upon ells of him... There would he lay till they would him descry, spancelled down upon a blossomy bed... the flowers of narcosis fourfettering his footlights... The meteor pulp of him, the seamless rainbowpeel... And his veins shooting melanite phosphor, his creamtocustard cometshair and his asteroid knuckles, ribs and members...
FDV: chained down upon a bed of flowers
McH: spancel = fetter for hobbling horses
FDV: arrowroot flesh and [blank] skin -> meteor flesh and rainbow skin -> The meteorflesh of him, the forbidden rainbowskin -> seamless rainbowskin
FDV: arrowroot knuckles
FDV (later relocated): He is giving, the wee lad (Mw). Y. has lived.
The four gospellers, arguing the details of Jesus's life story, bring an ass to the seance, for the sake of its big ears:
Those four claymen clomb together to hold their sworn starchamber quiry on him. For he was ever their quarrel, the way they would see themselves... First klettered Shanator Gregory, seeking spoor through the deep timefield, Shanator Lyons, trailing the wavy line of his partition footsteps... then his Recordership, Dr Shunadure Tarpey... and, up out of his prompt corner, old Shunny MacShunny, MacDougal the hiker, in the rere of them on the run, to make a quorum. Roping their ass he was, their skygrey globetrotter, by way of an afterthought... the big ass, to hear with his unaided ears the harp in the air, the bugle dianablowing, wild as wild, the mockingbird whose word is misfortune, so 'tis said, the bulbul down the wind...
FDV of trimmed passage (re the ass): and the legs on him they were that uneven it was tumbling he was by their lengths [ambiguous-- are they really uneven, or is it just the slope?]
diana: "The custom of waking soldiers to a bugle call dates back to the Roman Legions when the rank and file were raised by horns playing Diana's Hymn. To this day the French term for Reveille is 'La Diana'." [source]
McH: bulbul = nightingale (Persian); 'my face is my fortune' = Mother Goose lyric [etext]
whistle down the wind: to defame a person [def]; to dismiss/abandon a trained hawk [def]
So Mamalujo are afraid of what Yawn will say-- some unpleasant words they expect that the ass will hear?
Matt Gregory is their foreman: [fw]
Mathew Walker... his station was a few perch to the weatherside of the knoll... he proxtended aloof upon the ether Mesmer's Manuum, the hand making silence. The buckos beyond on the lea, then stopped wheresoever they found their standings and that way they set ward about him, doing obedience, nod, bend, bow and curtsey... the travelling court on its findings circuiting that personer in his fallen.
weatherside: towards the wind, opposite of leeside
lea: grassland, pasture (FDV: on the lee)
McH: prisoner; Inisfall = Ireland (poetic); Fallen = traps (German)
McLuhan [cite]: "The analogical relation between exterior posture and gesture and the interior movements and dispositions of the mind is the irreducible basis of drama. In the Wake this appears everywhere."
So Yawn lies bound atop the hill, refracting the macrocosm of the night sky:
And a crack quatyouare of stenoggers they made of themselves... with... their beast by them that was the odd trick of the pack, trump and no friend of carrots. And, what do you think, who should be laying there above all other persons forenenst them only Yawn! All of asprawl he was laying too amengst the poppies and, I can tell you something more than that, drear writer... he was oscasleep asleep.
FDV: he was profoundly asleep
(Oscar Wilde wrote De Profundis.)
And it was far more similar to a satrap he lay there with unctuous beauty all surrounded... like Lord Lumen, coaching his preferred constellations in faith and doctrine, for old Matt Gregory, 'tis he had the starmenagerie, Marcus Lyons and Lucas Metcalfe Tarpey and the mack that never forgave the ass that lurked behind him, Jonny na Hossaleen.
FDV: Be all of you hooshet! Let sleeping letters yawn! Twas so he sang to them, half ensorcelled. The song of a selfspinning sun, a satrap amid satellites -> surrounded by satellites or the Lord Lumen.
unctuous beauty: describing wine? [cite] (so how does this derive from satellites???)
U-Circe notes (1920) [qv]: "LB/SD/wh = S/T/L" Bloom/Stephen/whore ?= Sol/Terra/Luna
constellations ?= congregations
FDV: For old Matt Gregory he had a star menagerie
Jun23 note [qv]: "Old Tom Gregory, has a big menagerie" (actually Noah!? [lyric])
never forgave the ass: JAJ explained that the ass is the New Testament Apocrypha [qv-ALP]
More than their good share of their five senses ensorcelled you would say themselves were, fuming censor, the way they could not rightly tell their heels from their stools as they cooched down a mamalujo by his cubical crib, as question time drew nighing and the map of the souls' groupography rose in relief within their quarterings, to play tops or kites or hoops or marbles, curchycurchy, gawking on him, for the issuance of his pnum and softnoising one of them to another one, the bognaqueesthers.
FDV: And around they cooched, curchy curchy -> More than half ensorcelled you would say they were as they cooched down, curchy curchy, softnoising one to another one, the boghnaquisthers. [The published version actually has 'boguaqueesthers' but JAJ's u's and n's were often indistinguishable. 'Boghna' occurs in the Annals [Irish text].]
closing time... question time
Tops and marbles can be played squatting, kites and hoops not.
McH (FW51): curch = kerchief ("the haardly creditable edventyres of the Haberdasher, the two Curchies and the three Enkelchums" [qv]) (are they kneeling on their handkerchiefs?)
McH: pneuma = breath (Greek) (or spirit; pneuma hagion = Holy Ghost; John said God is pneuma [excellent qv])
issuance of his pnum: speaking wisdom (eg the pope?); dying (being born? reaching adulthood?)
And it is what they began to say to him tetrahedrally then, the masters, what way was he.
FDV: So they began to say to him what way was he.
(They're telling him!?)
cubical... tetrahedrally
-- He's giving, the wee bairn. Yun has lived.
-- Yerra, why dat, my leader?
-- Wisha, is he boosed or what, alannah?
-- Or his wind's from the wrong cut, says Ned of the Hill.
The four take turns speaking. FDV identifies the order here (JAJ's identification of their accents added by me) as: Matthew (Belfast), Luke (Dublin), Mark (Cork-Kerry), John (Galway-Mayo). I've proposed [qv] that Dublin-Galway is the tame-wild axis, and Belfast-Cork the realist-mystic axis. McH suggests each set of four speeches may embody a Viconian cycle (birth-marriage-death-rebirth).
FDV: Is he sick or what the burly youngster.
-- Lesten!
-- Why so and speak up, do you hear me, you sir?
-- Or he's rehearsing somewan's funeral.
-- Whisht outathat! Hubba's up!
FDV: Herring is up!
And as they were spreading abroad on their octopuds their drifter nets, the chromous gleamy seiners' nets and, no lie, there was word of assonance being softspoken among those quartermasters.
softnoising... softspoken
-- Get busy, kid!
-- Chirpy, come now!
-- The present hospices is a good time.
-- I'll take on that chap.
FDV: --The present occasion is a good time. --We're following. [FDV makes it clear they're talking to each other here-- not to Yawn-- as they spread their nets to catch the pnum/herring.]
McH: hospices = auspices (omens)
These are the nets Stephen Dedalus had to fly by, to escape the entanglements of Church and Country.
For it was in the back of their mind's ear... how they would be spreading... their azurespotted fine attractable nets... And in their minds years backslibris, so it was, slipping beauty, how they would be 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...
FDV: to mesh the notes of scaly silver -> to mesh the quavers of scaly silver
whilst, as hour gave way to mazing hour, with Yawn himself keeping time with his thripthongue, to ope his blurbeous lips he would, a let out classy, the way myrrh of the moor and molten moonmist would be melding mellifond indo his mouth.
FDV: whence mist of the fields and moonset melded into song in his mouth.
(He's an inspired Irish tenor!)
Yawn as Jesus is on the verge of ascending to Heaven, but they hope to keep him on Earth...?
He stirs in his sleep (?) and they begin to question him (the questions and answers being hard to distinguish). First, 'why?':
-- Y?
-- Before You!
-- Ecko! How sweet thee answer makes! Afterwheres? In the land of lions' odor?
Very late in the game, JAJ went thru FW and kludged in hundreds of titles and first lines from Thomas Moore's Melodies (eg here 'How Sweet the Answer Echo Makes') [misc] [RealAud].
lion's odor: the odor of the restrooms in Lyons' teahouses??? [fw ch4 notes]; the smell of rut? (U-Circe [qv], of Zoe "the rustle of her slip in whose sinuous folds lurks the lion reek of all the male brutes that have possessed her")
A mostly-two-part Q&A begins, identifying this unknown spirit:
-- Friends! First if yu don't mind. Name yur historical grouns.
-- This same prehistoric barrow 'tis, the orangery.
He speaks from the rubbish heap where the hen (and Kevin) found the Letter [qv]. His voice resembles Mutt speaking to Jute [qv].
orange: Eve's apple; color of Protestantism in Ireland; orange peels slow to decay in middens (?)
-- I see. Very good now. It is in your orangery, I take it, you have your letters. Can you hear here me, you sir?
-- Throsends. For my darling. Typette!-- So long aforetime? Can you hear better?
-- Millions. For godsends. For my darling dearling one.
FDV: --It was long ago? --Thousands.
The speaker's native language has a rich poetic vocabulary but no word for majesty:
-- Now, to come nearer zone; I would like to raise my deuterous point audibly touching this. There is this maggers. I am told by our interpreter, Hanner Esellus, that there are fully six hundred and six ragwords in your malherbal Magis landeguage in which wald wand rimes alpman... but yav hace not one pronouncable teerm that blows in all the vallums of tartallaght to signify majestate, even provisionally...
FDV: I understand that there are 600 different words in your language for monarch but that there is no word which signifies majesty.
HCE in ch2 [qv] calls the king 'yer maggers'. ALP's letter [vignette] is addressed to Revered Majesty, or in ch5 to sister Maggy [qv].
-- How? C'est mal prononsable, tartagliano, perfrances. Vous n'avez pas d'o dans votre boche provenciale, mousoo. Je m'incline mais Moy jay trouvay la clee dang les champs...
It's badly pronounced (FDV: prononcé), stutterer (Italian), in (?) French
McH: You have no water in your provincial mouth, sir. I acquiesce, but me, I've found the key (clover) in the fields.
-- Hep there! ...Whur's that inclining and talkin about the messiah so cloover? A true's to your trefling! Whure yu!
-- Trinathan partnick dieudonnay. Have you seen her? Typette, my tactile O!
FDV: Tristan Patrick Dieudonné
God-given ?= Jesus
McH: nathan = Jonathan Swift
The speaker is cold and lonely, recalling Parnell and Saint Patrick at their lowest points:
-- Are you in your fatherick, lonely one?
-- The same. Three persons. Have you seen my darling only one? I am sohohold!-- What are yu shevering about, ultramontane, like a houn? Is there cold on ye, doraphobian? Or do yu want yur primafairy schoolmam?
-- The woods of fogloot! O mis padredges!
sheva = seven (Hebrew) (or schwa? [cite]) or Severin?
ultramontane: "beyond the mountains; favoring papal over local authority"
McH: primavera = spring (Spanish) (so Spring would be as welcome as a fairy godmother)
Patrick in his youth was enslaved in Ireland near the woods of Fochlut [qv].
-- Whisht awhile, greyleg! The duck is rising and you'll wake that stand of plover. I know that place better than anyone. Sure, I used to be always overthere on the fourth day at my grandmother's place... That's the place for the claire oysters, Polldoody, County Conway. I never knew how rich I was... strolling and strolling, carrying my dragoman... along the shore.
FDV: Sure, I used to be always there with the long days, coursing. That's the place for oysters, Puldudy, I never knew how rich I had it!
McH: Poldoody = oyster-producing coastal pool in County Clare [info] (also Lord Poldoody in Vanity Fair [etext])
McH: dragoman = interpreter (Arabic)
but here it sounds more like Stephen Dedalus's ashplant
Do you know my cousin, Mr Jasper Dougal that keeps the Anchor on the Mountain, the parson's son, Jasper of the Tuns, Pat Whateveryournameis?
jasper: drives away evil spirits, protects against snake and spider bites; known as the great "rain-bringer" in 4th C [cite]
-- Dood and I dood. The wolves of Fochlut! By Whydoyoucallme? Do not flingamejig to the twolves!
-- Turcafiera amd that's a good wan right enough! Wooluvs no less!
(Parnell was supposed to have said 'Do not throw me to the wolves'. [bio])
McH: turca fiera = fierce Turkish woman (Italian)
Mamalujo ask whether the midden wasn't first HCE's burialboat (the wake motif):
-- One moment now, if I foreshorten the bloss on your bleather... Tell me now this. You told my larned friend rather previously, a moment since, about this mound or barrow. Now I suggest to you that ere there was this plagueburrow... there was a burialbattell, the boat of millions of years. Would you bear me out in that...? The Pourquoi Pas, bound for Weissduwasland, that fourmaster barquentine... 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...!
McH: plague-barrow = Tallaght [etym]
McH: Pourquoi Pas = Charcot's vessel for exploring Antarctica [info]
McH: weisst du was? = you know what? (German)
McH: boat howe = boat barrow
Waasland: home of Reynard the Fox (see below)
-- Couch, cortege, ringbarrow, dungcairn. Beseek the runes and see the longurn! ...Ess Ess. O ess. Warum night!
McH: birth, marriage, death, rebirth (Vico); S.O.S.; warum nicht? = why not? (German)
...Her raven flag was out, the slaver. I trow pon good... Crouch low, you pigeons three! Say, call that girl with the tan tress awn! Call Wolfhound! Wolf of the sea. Folchu! Folchu!
(In Wagner, Isolde dies just as Tristan arrives, because of a deception involving a black sail; also, pirates fly a black flag.)
FDV: Say, call that girl with the tan dress on. [cf sea shanty]
McH: trow pon good ?= I believe in God
McH: faolchu = wolf (Irish); the ship that carried Patrick from slavery in Ireland was carrying Irish wolfhounds [bio]
-- Very good now. That folklore's straight from the ass his mouth... now to come to the midnight middy... From Daneland sailed the oxeyed man, now mark well what I say.
McH: 'In Amsterdam there lived a maid, mark well what I do say' = sea shanty mentioned again in ch16 [qv] [lyric and audio] ditto [more verses]
-- Magnus Spadebeard... welsher perfyddye. A destroyer in our port. Signed to me with his baling scoop. Laid bare his breastpaps to give suck, to suckle me. Ecce Hagios Chrisman!-- Oh, Jeyses, fluid! says the poisoned well. Futtfishy the First. Hootchcopper's enkel at the navel manuvres!
Patrick's Confessio [qv] mentions a pagan initiation ceremony which he resisted, involving sucking a man's breast.
McH: ecce hagios chrisman ?= behold the holy chrisman (Greek, Latin)
McH: Jeyes Fluid = disinfectant [homepage]
-- Hep! Hello there, Bill of old Bailey! Whu's he? Whu's this lad, why the pups?
-- Hunkalus Childared Easterheld. It's his lost chance, Emania. Ware him well.
McH: It's Your Last Trip, Titanic, Fare You Well (song?) [lyric?]
-- Hey! Did you dream you were ating your own tripe, acushla, that you tied yourself up that wrynecky fix?
McH: Reinicke Fuchs = Goethe's Reynard the Fox [qv]
Before Yawn answers someone else comments:
-- I see now. We move in the beast circuls. Grimbarb and pancercrucer! You took the words out of my mouth. A child's dread for a dragon vicefather. Hillcloud encompass us! You mean you lived as milky at their lyceum, couard, while you learned, volp volp, to howl yourself wolfwise.
McH: best circles; Panzerkreuzer = armed cruiser (German); Grimbarb, Pancer, and Couard = badger, beaver, and hare (in Reynard)
Dyb! Dyb! Do your best.-- I am dob dob dobbling like old Booth's, courteous. The cubs are after me, it zeebs, the whole totem pack, vuk vuk and vuk vuk to them, for Robinson's shield.
(paps -> pups -> cubs -> wolves?)
McH: Cub Scout mottoes 'DYB' and 'DOB' (do your/our best) [qv]
-- Scents and gouspils! The animal jangs again! Find the fingall harriers...!
McH: saints and gospels; animal gangs = hoodlums (Dublin); Fingal Harriers = Irish hunt
The speaker confirms the name as an acrostic:
-- What? Wolfgang? Whoah! Talk very slowe!
-- Hail him heathen, heal him holystone!
Courser, Recourser, Changechild...
Eld es endall, earth...?
Did HCE's crime happen in BC or AD times?
-- A cataleptic mithyphallic! Was this Totem Fulcrum Est Ancestor yu hald in Dies Eirae where no spider webbeth or Anno Mundi ere bawds plied in Skiffstrait? Be fair, Chris!
FDV: Was thot in Domini Nostri?
McH: totum fulcrum est = all is a bed (Latin)
-- Dream. Ona nonday I sleep. I dreamt of a somday. Of a wonday I shall wake. Ah! May he have now of here fearfilled me! Sinflowed, O sinflowed! Fia! Fia! Befurcht christ!-- I have your tristich now; it recurs in three times the same differently... comming nown from the asphalt to the concrete, from the human historic brute... to this same vulganized hillsir... would he reoccur Ad Horam, as old Romeo Rogers, in city or country... We speak of Gun, the farther. And in the locative. Bap! Bap!
FDV: --Is he city or country? --Well he might like yourself-- Tigon or liger.
-- Ouer Tad, Hellig Babbau... I am afraid you could not heave ahore one of your own old stepstones... over a stumbledown wall here in Huddlestown... but itandthey woule binge... off the dosshouse back of a racerider in his truetoflesh colours...
(It was said of Daniel O'Connell that one couldn't throw a stick over a workhouse wall without striking one of his bastard offspring.)
That is a tiptip tim oldy faher now the man I go in fear of, Tommy Terracotta, and he could be all your and my das, the brodar of the founder of the father of the... furst man in Ranelagh...
FDV: That is an old fellow by now and he could be all your fathers.
McH: tiptipoldefader = great great great grandfather (Danish) [lexicon]
Walls have ears; silence is golden:
-- Breeze softly. Aures are aureas. Hau's his naun?
-- Me das has or oreils. Piercey, piercey, piercey, piercey!
McH: Midas [qv] has long donkey's ears; perce-oreille = earwig (French, also forficule)
-- White eyeluscious and muddyhorsebroth! ...But where do we get off, chiseller?
-- Haltstille, Lucas and Dublinn! Vulva! Vulva! Vulva! Vulva!
FDV: Wulva! Wulva!
McH: 'mudebroth!' = exclamation of St Patrick's
-- Macdougal, Atlantic City, or his onagrass that is, chuam and coughan! I would go near identifying you from your stavrotides, Jong of Maho...
FDV: McDougal that is, coughing. I identify you.
It appears the questioner is identifying the speaker as Johnny McDougal of Mayo (or his ass), ie swapping roles again?.
And that O'mulanchonry plucher you have from the worst curst of Ireland, Glwlwd of the Mghtwg Grwpp, is no use to you either, Johnny my donkeyschott. Number four, fix up your spreadeagle and pull your weight!
(Rowing motif?)
FDV: The sample you have is no good to you either. Number four, keep time.
Kevin and the hen:
-- ...Would ye ken a young stepschuler of psychical chirography, the name of Keven... that was shooing a Guiney gagag... that found the dogumen number one, I would suggest, an illegible downfumbed by an unelgible?-- If I do know sinted sageness? Sometimes he would keep silent for a few minutes as if in prayer and clasp his forehead and during the time he would be thinking to himself and he would not mind anybody who would be talking to him or crying stinking fish.
Cf. Childhood of Kevin [qv, 1923]: "As a growing boy he grew more + more pious and abstracted like the time God knows he sat down on the plate of mutton broth."
A you're-getting-colder guessing game?
But I no way need you, stroke oar nor your quick handles. Your too farfar a cock of the north there, Matty Armagh, and your due south so.
FDV: I no way need you, stroke oar, with your quick handles. Too far north and you're south so.
-- South I see. You're up-in-Leal-Ulster and I'm-free-Downin-Easia, this is much better...
Mamalujo are associated with provinces of Ireland, etc [more]:
evangelist: Matt Gregory Marcus Lyons Luke Tarpey Johnny MacDougall direction: north south east west province: Ulster Munster Leinster Connacht accent: Belfast Cork-Kerry Dublin Galway-Mayo ore: gold silver steel iron symbols: ---- lion calf eagle colors: blue-black moonblue red black day: Palm Sunday Holy Tuesday Spy Wed Good Friday
So it seems Mamalujo are arguing among themselves.
Continuing: Could Kevin have been the one who hid the letter there?
The prouts who will invent a writing there ultimately is the poeta, still more learned, who discovered the raiding there originally...
FDV: He found it there he put it.
(The language is becoming very opaque, so we have to lean heavily on the early drafts... but these were expanded to a page per line in many places.)
Or I will let me take it upon myself to suggest to twist the penman's tale posterwise. The gist is the gist of Shaum but the hand is the hand of Sameas... There is a strong suspicion on counterfeit Kevin... Now, have you reasonable hesitancy in your mind about him after fourpriest redmass or are you in your post...?-- ...Nwo, nwo! This bolt in hand be my worder! I'll see you moved farther, blarneying Marcantonio! What cans such wretch to say to I or how have My to doom with him? We were wombful of mischief and initiumwise, everliking a liked, hairytop on heeltipper... that babe, imprincipially, my leperd brethern, the Puer...
McH: Initium = first word of Mark
McH: In principio = first words of John
...ens innocens of but fifteen primes... did I altermobile him to a flare insiding hogsfat.
FDV: That innocent did I alter him towards purefat?
(St Patrick committed some indiscretion around age 15 that came back to haunt him [qv].)
The speaker continues: Am I my brother's keeper?
Been ike hins kindergardien? I know not, O cashla, I am sure... that father I ascend fromming knows, as I think, caused whom I, a self the sign... as to I was eltered impostulance... when I received the habit... circumcised my hairs, Oh laud, and removed my clothes from patristic motives, meas minimas culpads!
FDV: I don't know but God knows I was altered first.
Permitting this ick... making so smell partaking myself to confess... before him... what I... did not do... why did you... blabber always you would be so delated to back me... designing such post sitting his night office? Annexing then... you snub around... providing... you will celebrand my dirthdags quoniam, concealed a concealer, I am twosides uppish, a mockbelief insulant, ending none meer hyber irish.
FDV: If I confessed before him + you why did you say you would recommend me for the post and then you go and canvass the other side + you say I'm not mere Irish, waiting your chance to run yr knife into me.
(Patrick's indiscretion was betrayed by a friend at a critical moment, threatening a promotion to bishop, but in general Joyce saw the Irish as hopeless backstabbers.)
McH: Quoniam = first word of Luke
The speaker considers himself a nobleman:
Well... I may as well humbly correct that vespian now... I've my pockets full... of you laycreated cardonals... I teachet you in fair time, my elders, the W.X.Y.Z. and P.Q.R.S. of legatine powers and you... I learn... circumdeditioned me... Mind of poison is... My... caste is a cut above you peregrines... See the leabhour of my generations!
McH: Liber generationis = first words of Matthew
Has not my master, Theophrastius Spheropneumaticus, written that the spirit is from the upper circle? I'm of the ochlocracy... Anglicey: Eggs squawfish lean yoe nun feed marecurious.
McH: Pythagorean Latin for 'You can't make a Mercury out of just any piece of wood.'
ochlocracy = mob rule [qv]
Patrick's parents named him 'Sucat' (and 'sagart' is priest in Irish):
Sagart can self laud... to Lowman Catlick's patrician morning coat of arms.... And, Mind, praisegad, is the first praisonal Egoname Yod heard... in Moy Bog's domesday. Hastan the vista! Or in alleman: Suck at!-- Suck it yourself, sugarstick! Misha, Yid think whose was asking to luckat your sore toe or to taste your gaspy, hot and sour! ...Are we speachin d'anglas landadge or are you sprakin sea Djoytsch? ...What about your thruppenny croucher of an old fellow... tell us, eh? ...Fat prize the bonafide peachumpidgeonlover, eh, eh, eh, esquire earwugs...? How big was his boost friend...? The swaaber! The twicer, trifoaled in Wanstable! Loud's curse to him...!
McH: Fat prize = what price
The speaker switches to pidgin, addressing Luke?
-- Me no angly mo, me speakee Yellman's lingas. Nicey Doc Mistel Lu, please! Me no pigey ludiments all same numpa one Topside Tellmastoly fella. Me pigey savvy a singasong anothel time. Pleasie, Mista Lukie Walkie! Josadam cowbelly maam belongame shepullamealahmalong, begolla, Jackinaboss belongashe; plentymuch boohoomeo.
FDV: Me guemguem me savvy one time me cry plenty much boohoo one time sowbelly belongame jackinabox belongaher.
Maybe: I cried because she had a (phallic?) jack-in-the-box and all I had was a sowbelly.
Mamalujo recognise the speaker has changed:
-- ...Thot's never the postal cleric...! Are you roman cawthrick 432?
FDV: This never the postal cleric. Are you Roman road 432?
McH: 432 AD = start of Patrick's mission to Ireland
FW's central number-symbol is 1132, and should probably be read as a sequence: 1-1-3-2. Here we do the same with 4-3-2:
-- Quadrigue my yoke.
Triple my tryst.
Tandem my sire.
FDV: Fourfold my witness/ Triple my trust/ A twicer my sire.
Twicer probably implies adultery, and stuttering. And witnesses are apparently poetically equivalent to a yoke (ie, burdens).
-- History as her is harped... Tantris, hattrick, tryst and parting, by vowelglide! I feel your thrilljoy mouths overtspeaking, O dragoman, hands understudium... Every third man has a chink in his conscience and every other woman has a jape in her mind...
McH: China/Japan; every 3rd birth is Chinese
Now I, the lord of Tuttu, am placing that inital T square of burial jade upright to your temple a moment. Do you see anything, templar?-- I see a blackfrinch pliestrycook... who is carrying on his brainpan... a cathedral of lovejelly for his... Tiens, how he is like somebodies!
(These last few are Joyce's ellipses.)
Joyce assigned 'T' as the siglum (sign) for Tristan, in the notes for FW. Mamalujo sense the presence of Tristan and produce an Egyptian wand in that shape, which induces the speaker to see a vision of a person forming that shape. (Maybe.)
The inverted 'T' symbolises Tristan's mirror-image anima, Isolde:
-- Pious, a pious person. What sound of tistress isoles my ear?
McH: distress assails
I horizont the same, this serpe with ramshead, and lay it lightly to your lip a litde. What do you feel, liplove?-- 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!
(Joyce's ellipses again.)
Joyce plays a game with see, hear, and feel:
-- ...I invert the initial of your tripartite and sign it sternly, and adze to girdle. on your breast. What do you hear, breastplate?-- I ahear of a hopper behidin the door slappin his feet in a pool of bran.
-- Bellax, acting like a bellax.
McH: bollocks
And so the triptych vision passes... Now... I feel called upon to ask did it ever occur to you... that you might, bar accidens, be very largely substituted... by a complementary character, voices apart? ...Put from your mind that and take on trust this. The next word depends on your answer.-- I'm thinking to, thogged be thenked! I was just trying to think when I thought I felt a flea. I might have. I cannot say for it is of no significance at all. ...A few times, so to shape, I chanced to be stretching, in the shadow as I thought, the liferight out of myself... and I swear my gots how that I'm not meself at all, no jolly fear, when I realise bimiselves how becomingly I to be going to become.
-- O, is that the way with you, you craythur? ...The voice is the voice of jokeup, I fear. Are you imitation Roma now or Amor now. You have all our empathies, eh, Mr Trickpat, if you don't mind... answering to my straight question?
-- God save the monk! I won't mind this is, answering to your strict crossqueets... Same no can, home no will, gangin I am. Gangang is Mine and I will return...
McH: gengang = return (Danish)
You knew me once but you won't know me twice. I am simpliciter arduus, ars of the schoo, Freeday's child in loving and thieving.-- My child, know this! Some portion of that answer appears to have been token by you from the writings of Saint Synodius, that first liar. Let us hear, therefore, as you honour and obey the queen, whither the indwellingness of that which shamefieth be entwined of one or atoned of two. Let us hear, Art simplicissime!
Joyce's dagger definitions again:
-- Dearly beloved brethren: Bruno and Nola... stationary lifepartners off... Nessau Street, were explaining it... yesterweek... When himupon Nola Bruno monopolises his egobruno most unwillingly seses by the mortal powers alionola equal and opposite brunoipso, id est, eternally provoking alio opposite equally as provoked as Bruno at being eternally opposed by Nola...-- ...If is itsen? Or you mean Nolans but Volans, an alibi, do you... suffering unegoistically from the singular but positively enjoying on the plural? Dustify of that sole, you breather! Ruemember, blither, thou must lie!
-- Oyessoyess! I never dramped of prebeing a postman... my allaboy brother, Negoist Cabler... expulled for looking at churches from behind, who is sender of the Hullo Eve Cenograph in prose... Starving today plays punk opening tomorrow two plays punk wire splosh how two plays punk Cabler.
Have you forgotten poor Alby Sobrinos, Geoff, you blighter, identifiable by the necessary white patch on his rear? How he went to his swiltersland after his lungs, my sad late brother...? Won't you join me in... a bottle of the best, for wellmet Capeler... for of his was the patriots mistaken...
Yet be there some who mourn him, concluding him dead... Would he were even among the lost...! Oremus... that he may yet escape the gallews... I wronged you. I never want to see more of bad men but I want to learn... if he lives sameplace in the antipathies of austrasia... on his hooshmoney... a teetotum abstainer... I am no scholar but I loved that man... my shemblable! My freer! I call you my halfbrother...
-- As you sing it it's a study. That letter selfpenned to one's other, that neverperfect everplanned?
-- This nonday diary, this allnights newseryreel.-- My dear sir! In this wireless age any owl rooster can peck up bostoons. But whoewaxed he so anquished...?
-- Mighty sure! ...A parambolator ram into his bagsmall when he was reading alawd... and he's been failing of that kink in his arts over sense...-- I get it. By hearing his thing about a person one begins to place him for a certain in true... Now, I am earnestly asking you... will just you search through your gabgut memoirs for all of two minutes for this impersonating pronolan, fairhead on foulshoulders. Would it be... a doblinganger much about your own medium with a sandy whiskers...?
-- ...I surpassed him lately for four and six...
FDV of (trimmed) answer: Stouter is doing the dirty on me so he is with her tantrums + all these kilowatts that I'd be better off without.
-- When your contraman... is looking for righting that is not a good sign? Not?
-- I speak truly, it's a shower sign that it's not.-- What though it be for the sow of his heart? If even she were a good pool Pegeen?
-- If she ate your windowsill you wouldn't say sow.-- ...Were you with Sindy and Sandy attending Goliath, a bull?
-- You'd make me sag what you like to. I was intending a funeral. Simply and samply...-- Tugbag is Baggut's... A luckchange, I see... You told of a tryst too... I wonder now, without releasing seeklets of the alcove... have I heard mention of whose name anywhere...?
-- Marak! Marak! Marak!
He drapped has draraks an Mansianhase parak
And he had ta barraw tha watarcrass shartclaths aff the arkbashap af Yarak.!-- ...the sharepusher! And he said he was only taking the average grass temperature for green Thurdsday, the blutchy scaliger!
-- ...How voice you that, nice Sandy man? ...Ask him this... he dropped his Bass's to P flat.
FDV: Ask him how he lost his voice.
And for that he was allaughed? And then baited? The whole gammat?
-- Loonacied! Marterdyed...!-- ...Dolled to dolthood? And Annie Delittle, his daintree diva, in deltic dwilights, singing him henpecked rusish through the bars...?
ALP speaks:
-- ...Well, I beg to traverse same above statement... what reflects upon my administrants of slow poisoning as my dodear devere revered mainhirr was confined to guardroom, I hindustand, by my pint of his Filthered pilsens bottle... Which I was bringing up my quee parapotacarry's orders... from my cash chemist and family drugger... to see what was my watergood, my mesical wasserguss, for repairs done by bollworm in the rere of pilch knickers... together with his for me unfillable slopper... especially with him being forbidden fruit and certified by his sexular clergy... and, my charmer, whom I dipped my hand in, he simply showed me his propendiculous loadpoker, Seaserpents hisses sissastones... with the remere remind remure remark, in his gulughurutty: Yran for parasites with rum for the turkeycockeys so Lithia, M.D., as this is for Snooker, bort!
FDV: he showed me a poker with the remark: This is for Sneak.
McH: M.D. = my darling (Swift)
-- Which was said by whem to whom?
-- It wham. But whim I can't whumember.-- Fantasy! ...amnaes fintasies! And there is nihil nuder under the clothing moon... Ani Latch of the postern is thy name; shout!
-- My heart, my mother! ...What a surpraise, dear Mr Preacher... Yes, there was that skew arch of chrome sweet home, floodlit up above the flabberghosted farmament... Ruby and beryl and chrysolite, jade, sapphire, jasper and lazul.
A rainbow of gems. (Joyce saw gems as sinister emblems of the underworld.)
-- Orca Bellona! ...Extinct your vulcanology for the lava of Moltens!
-- It's you not me's in erupting, hecklar!
McH: interrupting
-- ...Holy snakes, chase me charley... The Ural Mount he's on the move... Creeping through the liongrass and bullsrusshius... before the Emfang de Maurya's class... camouflaged as a blancmange and maple syrop! ...Three cheers and a heva heva for the name Dan Magraw!
FDV: Creeping into the children of Mary class disguised as a judge with two sorts of false heads on him.
Echoes of the Letter [vignette]:
-- ...I would misdemean to rebuke to the libels of snots from the fleshambles, the canalles. Synamite is too good for them. Two overthirties in shore shorties...The said Sully... wreuter of annoyimgmost letters... who is Magrath's thug... and he is not fit enough to throw guts down to a bear. Sylphling me when is a maid nought a maid... So long, Sulleyman! ...When Lynch Brother... is prepared to stretch him sacred... to the starlight... Hemp, hemp, hurray! says the captain in the moonlight...
How we will make laugh over him together, me and my Riley in the Vickar's bed! Quink! says I. He cawls to me... and I cool him my Finnyking... Plunk! said he...
FDV of trimmed passage: I would misdemean to reply to the libel of snots inasmuch as a sovereign was presented to all by that noblest of magistrates with nice engravings showing all his manly parts in the act, as required by statutes.
Now you see! Respect. S.V.P. Your wife. Amn. Anm. Amm. Ann.-- ...Sure, that old humbugger was boycotted and girlcutted... There wasn't... any... on allad the hold scurface of the jorth would come next or nigh him, Mr Eelwhipper... after that.
-- All ears did wag, old Eire wake as Piers Aurell was flappergangsted.
-- Recount!
-- I have it here to my fingall's ends. This liggy piggy wanted to go to the jampot. And this leggy peggy spelt pea. And theese lucky puckers played at pooping tooletom...
-- Qui quae quot at Quinnigan's Quake! Stump...!
Roderick O'Conor recapitulated in another very long sentence:
-- Arra... weren't they arriving... from America Avenue and Asia Place and the Affrian Way and Europa Parade... for the lure of his weal... to his salon de espera... like lodes of ores flocking fast to Mount Maximagnetic, afeerd he was a gunner but affaird to stay away... for to... pay their firstrate duties before the both of him... in the licensed boosiness primises of his delhightful bazar... Hosty's and Co, Exports, for his five hundredth and sixtysixth borthday... and as much as the halle... could safely accomodate...
FDV: as much as the lift could hold at once
566*2 = 1132, suggesting again that ROC is the midpoint of HCE's lifecycle
of the houses of Orange and Betters... all murdering Irish, amok and amak, out of their boom companions in paunchjab and dogril and pammel and gougerotty...
Echoes of Ulysses' Oxen of the Sun: Punch (Costello) and Lenehan (doggerel!) and Mulligan (Gogarty), with HCE as Bloom. But who is 'pammel'? (It should be Lynch...? Or just Bannon??) [more]
Characters in Oxen: Nurse Callan, J Crotthers, William Madden, Francis (Punch) Costello, Dr Dixon, Alec Bannon, T Lenehan, Vincent Lynch, Malachi (Buck) Mulligan, Stephen Dedalus, Leopold Bloom, the Purefoys, Bantam Lyons, and Macintosh
after plenty of his fresh stout... socializing and communicanting in the deification of his members, for to nobble or salvage their herobit of him, the poohpooher old bolssloose... Dodderick Ogonoch Wrack...
Roderick O'Conor Rex
McH: basileus = king (Greek)
busted to the wurld at large, on the table round... lying high as he lay in all dimensions... bewept of his chilidrin and serafim... with his buttend up, expositoed for sale after referee's inspection, bulgy and blowrious, bunged to ignorious... most highly astounded, as it turned up... at thus being reduced to nothing...
FDV: superastounded
-- Impassable tissue of improbable liyers! D'yu mean to sett there where y'are now, coddlin your supernumerary leg... Sorley boy, repeating yurself, and tell me that?-- I mean to sit here on this altknoll where you are now, Surly guy...
(I mean to usurp your office?)
replete in myself, as long as I live, in my homespins, like a sleepingtop, with all that's buried ofsins insince insensed insidesofme.
(Shaun tries to repress his guilts forever, becoming insincere and violent.)
If I can't upset this pound of pressed ollaves I can sit up zounds of sounds upon him.
(Ezra Pound??)
FDV: If I can't upset this pound of ollaves I can sit setup upon him.
(If Shaun can't knock Shem out of the game, he can at least squelch him indefinitely.)
-- Oliver! He may be an earthpresence. Was that a groan or did I hear the Dingle bagpipes Wasting war and? Watch! ...Is the strays world moving mound or what static babel is this, tell us?
FDV: Olivers. What was that groan? What? Is the mound moving. What is under all this? I can't just distinguish.
(Oliver Gogarty again?)
-- Whoishe whoishe whoishe whoishe linking in? Whoishe whoishe whoishe?-- The snare drum! Lay yer lug till the groun. The dead giant manalive! They're playing thimbles and bodkins. Clan of the Gael! Hop! Whu's within?
FDV: Put your ear to it! It's the soldiers!
'Zinzin' is probably a 1920s-era telephone ringing:
-- Dovegall and finshark, they are ring to the rescune!
-- Zinzin. Zinzin.
-- Crum abu! Cromwell to victory!
-- We'll gore them and gash them and gun them and gloat on them.
-- Zinzin.
-- O, widows and orphans, it's the yeomen! Redshanks for ever! Up Lancs!
FDV: Up, my doggies, up!
-- The cry of the roedeer it is! The white hind... Send us and peace! Title! Title!-- Christ in our irish times! Christ on the airs independence! Christ hold the freedman's chareman! Christ light the dully expressed!
FDV: Christ in the fort! Christ in the chariot!
McH: Irish Times, Irish Independent, Freeman's Journal, Daily Express
-- Slog slagt and sluaghter! Rape the daughter! Choke the pope!
-- Aure! Cloudy father! Unsure! Nongood!
FDV: O cloudy father! Nongood!
The next section is almost unchanged from the first draft:
-- Zinzin.
-- Sold! I am sold! Brinabride! My ersther! My sidster! Brinabride, goodbye! Brinabride! I sold!
-- Pipette dear! Us! Us! Me! Me!
-- Fort! Fort! Bayroyt! March!
-- Me! I'm true. True! Isolde. Pipette. My precious!
-- Zinzin.
-- Brinabride, bet my price! Brinabride!
-- My price, my precious?
-- Zin.
-- Brinabride, my price! When you sell get my price!
-- Zin.
-- Pipette! Pipette, my priceless one!
-- O! Mother of my tears! Believe for me! Fold thy son!
-- Zinzin. Zinzin.
-- Now we're gettin it. Tune in and pick up the forain counties! Hello!
-- Zinzin.
-- Hello! Tittit! Tell your title?
-- Abride!
-- Hellohello! Ballymacarett! Am I thru' Iss? Miss? True?
-- Tit! What is the ti..?SILENCE.
SILENCE: Perhaps Shaun turns into Shem at the moment his inner voice stops its rationalising, when he's forced to look at reality?
Act drop. Stand by! Blinders! Curtain up. Juice, please! Foots!
-- Hello! Are you Cigar shank and Wheat?
-- I gotye. Gobble Ann's Carrot Cans.
McH: Segur cinquante huit (50-08), Gobelins quarante quinze (40-15) = French phone numbers
Joyce's Paris number in 1920 was Saxe 34-33 (trente-quatre trente-trois) [qv]
FDV, deleted: Zin. Comment, six heures? Up zin. Ecoute, Charles! Godasses de qui? Up zin. O la la! Ca c'est fort. Up zin. Up zin. Oui, mon petit. Mais oui, mon petit. Petitzin. Petitzin. Petitzin. Petitzin.
(Echoing the four 'up's in Mamalujo [qv].)
-- Parfey. Now... just permit me a moment. Challenger's Deep is childsplay to this but, by our soundings... land is due... Clear the line, priority call! Sybil! Better that or this? Sybil Head this end! Better that way? Follow the baby spot. Yes. Very good now. We are again in the magnetic field.
(Seance as oceanographic expedition, laying undersea telecom cable.)
Do you remember on a particular lukesummer night, following a crying fair day? Moisten your lips for a lightning strike and begin again. Mind the flickers and dimmers! Better?-- Well...
FDV: -- Do you remember the night after the fair day? -- Well.
(The day of the fair.)
-- ...There were fires on every bald hill in holy Ireland that night. Better so?
-- You may say they were, son of a cove!
-- Were they bonfires? That clear?
-- No other name would at all befit them unless that. Bonafieries! With their blue beards streaming to the heavens.
(Symbol of St Patrick converting Ireland.)
-- Was it a high white night now?
-- Whitest night mortal ever saw.
-- ...Was there rain by any chance, mistandew?
-- Plenty. If you wend farranoch.
-- There fell some fall of littlewinter snow... I gather, jesse...?
-- The nicest at all...
-- Did it not blow some gales...?
-- Out of all jokes it did. Pipep! Icecold. Brr na brr, ny prr!
--...Peace, Pacific! Do you happen to recollect whether Muna... was shining at all?
-- Sure she was, my midday darling!-- ...Now do you know the wellknown kikkinmidden where the illassorted first couple first met with each other? ...There used to be a tree stuck up? An overlisting eshtree?
Freud's primal scene, traumatising Yawn. This will be enacted most literally in the next chapter, III.4, where it seems to be Issy seeing.
-- There used, sure enough.. the grawndest crowndest consecrated maypole in all the reignladen history of Wilds... For we are fed of its forest, clad in its wood, burqued by its bark and our lecture is its leave...-- What was it doing there, for instance?
-- Standing foreninst us.
-- You saw it visibly from your hidingplace?
-- No. From my invisibly lyingplace.
-- And you then took down in stereo what took place being tunc committed?
-- I then tuk my takenplace lying down, I thunk I told you. Solve it!
-- ...Just how grand... is this preeminent giant, sir Arber?-- ...There's tuodore queensmaids and Idahore shopgirls and they woody babies growing upon her and bird flamingans sweenyswinging fuglewards on the tipmast... and crossbones strewing its holy floor and... burstall boys with their underhand leadpencils climbing to her crotch for the origin of spices... and handpainted hoydens plucking husbands of him... creatures of the wold approaching him... for to claw and rub, hermits of the desert barking their infernal shins over her triliteral roots and his acorns and pinecorns shooting wide all sides out of him... and her leaves, my darling dearest, sinsinsinning since the night of time and each and all of their branches meeting and shaking twisty hands all over again in their new world...
-- A shrub of libertine, indeed! ...I've got that now... The form masculine. The gender feminine. I see. Now, are you derevatov of it yourself in any way? The true tree I mean? Let's hear what science has to say...
-- Upfellbowm.
McH: Apfelbaum = apple tree (German)
-- ...Were you there, eh Hehr? Were you there when they lagged um through the coombe?
-- Wo wo! Who who! Psalmtimes it grauws on me to ramble, ramble, ramble.
-- Woe! Woe! So that was kow he became the foerst of our treefellers?
-- Yesche and... the fanest of our truefalluses...-- Now you are mehrer the murk, Lansdowne Road... Now, thornyborn, follow the spotlight, please! Concerning a boy. Are you acquainted with a pagany, vicariously known as Toucher 'Thom' who is.
(Rare use by JAJ of 'inverted commas')
FDV: You know a man known as Toucher Doyle?
I suggest Finoglam as his habitat. Consider yourself on the stand now and watch your words, take my advice. Let your motto be: Inter nubila numbum.
McH: Finoglam = Finnegan
McH: inter nubila nimbus = among clouds a splendour (Latin)
numbum = numb bum, neutered number?
-- Never you mind about my mother or her hopitout.
McH: habitat (ie, among the clouds?)
I consider if I did, I would feel frightfully ashamed of admired vice.
FDV: I wd be frightfully ashamed if I was.
McH: advice (?)
-- He is a man of around fifty... who does messuages...
FDV: messages
and has more dirt on him than an old dog has fleas... Have you ever heard of this old boy "Thom" or "Thim" of the fishy stare who... is not all there... being most of his time down at the Green Man where he steals, pawns, belches and is a curse, drinking gaily two hours after closing time, with the coat on him skinside out... clapping his hands in a feeble sort of way and systematically mixing with the public going for groceries... when he would be finished with his tea?
(So HCE is the tavernkeeper, and Thom the cad is the teetotalling customer?)
-- Is it that fellow? As mad as the brambles he is. Touch him... He has kissed me more than once, I am sorry to say...-- Now, just wash and brush up your memoirias a little bit... I am wondering to myself... was Toucher, a methodist, whose name, as others say, is not really 'Thom'... wearing... false clothes... for that occasion... I'm wondering.
-- I bet you are. Well, he was wandering, you bet, whatever was his matter, in his mind too, give him his due, for I am sorry to have to tell you, hullo and evoe, they were coming down from off him.
FDV: They were all falling off him.
(So now Thom is HCE.)
-- How culious an epiphany!
-- ...Ay, another good button gone wrong.
-- ...I hear these two goddesses are liable to sue him? ...And were they watching you as watcher as well?-- Where do you get that wash? This representation does not accord with my experience. They were watching the watched watching. Vechers all.
The 3 watched the 1 (HCE) watch the 2. But the 2 were watching HCE (the watched-by-3) watching them. (Cf Gerty watching Bloom watching her.)
-- Good. Hold that watching brief and keep this witching longuer. Now, retouching friend Tomsky, the enemy, did you gather much from what he let drop? We are sitting here for that.
Double entendre? spill seed, take a dump, drop trousers
-- I was rooshian mad, no lie. About his shapeless hat.
-- I suspect you must have been.
-- You are making your thunderous mistake. But I was dung sorry for him too.
-- O Schaum! Not really? Were you sorry you were mad with him then?
-- When I tell you I was rooshiamarodnimad with myself altogether, so I was, for being sorry for him.
-- So?
-- Absolutely.
(Starting to trim whole pages not in the first draft.)
-- ...Now, not to mix up, cast your eyes around Capel Court. I want you, witness of this epic struggle, as yours so mine, to reconstruct for us, as briefly as you can, inexactly the same as a mind's eye view, how these funeral games... took place...-- Ah, sure, I eyewitless foggus...
-- Ah, go on now, Masta Bones... Blank memory of hatless darky in blued suit. You were ever the gentle poet... Once upon a grass and a hopping high grass it was.
Retelling the cad-tale in the language of the Ondt-tale:
-- Faith, then, Meesta Cheeryman, first he come up... to the town's major from the wesz... and taking off his plushkwadded bugsby in his perusual flea and loisy manner, saying good mrowkas to weevilybolly... and was ever so terribly naas, really, telling him clean his nagles and fex himself up, Miles, and so on and so fort... and, half hang me, sirr, if he wasn't wanting his calicub body back before he'd to take his life or so save his life.
Ulysses-Oxen [qv]: "All they bachelors then asked of sir Leopold would he in like case so jeopard her person as risk life to save life."
FW35: "The Earwicker of that spurring instant, realising on fundamental liberal principles the supreme importance, nexally and noxally, of physical life... and unwishful as he felt of being hurled into eternity right then, plugged by a softnosed bullet from the sap..."
Then, begor, counting as many as eleven to thritytwo seconds with his pocket browning, like I said... he kept forecursing... to know all what went off and who burned the hay... before he'd kill all the kanes... which the man, his plantagonist, up from the bog of the depths who was raging with the thirst of the sacred sponge and who... was only standing there... wanting to know whelp the henconvention's compuss memphis he wanted with him new nothing about.
FDV: First he wanted a match. Then counting 30 seconds and cursed at him to know who burned the hay which the man knew nothing about.
-- ...In other words, was that how... after a manner of men which I must and will say seems extraordinary, their celicolar subtler angelic warfare or photoplay finister started?-- Truly. That I may never!
FDV: -- Was that how it all began? -- Like that.
-- ...Will you swear all the same you saw their shadows a hundred foot later, struggling diabolically over this, that and the other... near the Ruins, Drogheda Street, and kicking up the devil's own dust for the Milesian wind?-- I will. I did. They were. I swear. Like the heavenly militia...
-- The illegallooking range or fender, alias turfing iron, a product of Hostages and Co, Engineers, changed feet several times as briars revalvered during the weaponswap? Piff?
-- Puff! Excuse yourself. It was an ersatz lottheringcan...
-- Yet this war has meed peace?
-- ...O bella! O pia! O pura! Amem...
-- And this pattern pootsch... went on... a whole whake, your night after larry's night... a thousand and one times, according to your cock and a biddy story? Lludillongi, for years and years perhaps?
-- That's 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 the first. That's right.
See Otto Jespersen's "Language" p211: "1000 = 3rd toe on the 2nd foot of the 4th man" (A-Scylla 72, July 1923 [qv])
-- Finny. Vary vary finny!-- It may look funny but fere it is.
-- This is not guid enough, Mr Brasslattin... Didget think I was asleep at the wheel? D'yu mean to tall grand jurors... on your oath, me lad, and ask us to believe you... that yur moon was shining on the tors... night after night, for years and years perhaps, after you swearing to it a while back before your Corth examiner, Markwalther, that there was reen in planty all the teem?
FDV: ...when you swore a while back there was plenty of rain alla the time?
-- Perhaps so... I never thought over it, faith. I most certainly think so about it. I hope. Unless it is actionable...
(Bill Clinton!)
-- Will you swear or affirm the day to yur second sight noo and recant that all yu affirmed... was all paddyflaherty? Will ye, ay or nay?
FDV: Will you swear now that all you swore to then was false?
-- Ay say aye. I affirmly swear to it that it rooly and cooly boolyhooly was...-- ...Now my other point. Did you know... that one of these two Crimeans with the fender, the taller man, was accused of a certain offence or of a choice of two serious charges, as skirts were divided on the subject, if you like it better that way? You did, you rogue, you?
-- You hear things. Besides (and serially now) bushes have eyes, don't forget. Hah!
-- Which moral turpitude would you select of the two, for choice, if you had your way? ...Did any orangepeelers or greengoaters appear periodically up your sylvan family tree?
-- Buggered if I know! It all depends on how much family silver you want for a nass-and-pair. Hah!
McH: an ass and pair
-- What do you mean, sir, behind your hah! You don't hah to do thah, you know, snapograph.-- Nothing, sir. Only a bone moving into place. Blotogaff. Hahah!
Ulysses-Circe [qv]: Virag: "...Did you hear my brain go snap?"
-- Whahat?-- Are you to have all the pleasure quizzing on me? I didn't say it aloud, sir. I have something inside of me talking to myself.
-- You're a nice third degree witness, faith! But this is no laughing matter. Do you think we are tonedeafs in our noses to boot? Can you not distinguish the sense, prain, from the sound, bray? You have homosexual catheis of empathy between narcissism of the expert and steatopygic invertedness. Get yourself psychoanolised!
Ellmann p466: In October 1919 Joyce lost a monthly stipend from Mrs McCormick of 1000 francs that he'd been living on for 18 months, by rejecting her requirement that he be psychoanalysed by Jung.
-- O, begor, I want no expert nursis symaphy from yours broons quadroons and I can psoakoonaloose myself any time I want... without your interferences or any other pigeonstealer.-- Sample! Sample!
-- Have you ever weflected, wepowtew, that the evil what though it was willed might nevewtheless lead somehow on to good towawd the genewality?
-- ...in all seriousness, has it become to dawn in you yet that the deponent... may have been... as much sinned against as sinning...
-- ...pals will smile but me and Frisky Shorty, my inmate friend... was... just arguing friendlylike... having a wee chatty with our hosty in his comfy estably over the old middlesex party and his moral turps... What me and Frisky... wants to know is thisahere.
Supposing, for an ethical fict, him, which the findings showed, to have taken his epscene licence before the norsect's divisional respectively as regards them male privates... as was very properly held by the metropolitan in connection with this regrettable nuisance... in pursuance of which police agence me and Shorty have approached a reverend gentlman of the name of Mr Coppinger with reference to a piece of fire fittings...
as was most obliging, 'pon my sam, in this matter of his explanations... given to me and Shorty... concerning the merits of early bisectualism, besides him citing from approved lectionary example given by a valued friend of the name of Mr J. P. Cockshott, reticent of England... as was telling us categoric how Mr Cockshott... tells him hypothetic, the reverend Mr Coppinger, hereckons himself... up to a dozen miles of a cunifarm school of herring, passing themselves supernatently by the Bloater Naze from twelve and them mayridinghim by the silent hour.
FDV: Mr Cockshot tells him he reckoned seven mile of herring passing the point from 12 A.M. on the silent hour
(The image of herring seems to refer to the stirring of spermatazoa in the testicles, as the first token of lust. Cf Tristan "Hear, O hear, all ye caller herring!" [qv].)
Butting, charging, bracing, backing, springing, shrinking, swaying, darting, shooting, bucking and sprinkling... with the twinx of their taylz. And, reverend, he says, summat problematical... gut me, but them errings was as gladful as Wissixy kippers could be considering, flipping their little coppingers, pot em, the fresh little flirties, the dirty little gillybrighteners, pickle their spratties, the little smolty gallockers, and, reverend, says he... them little salty populators, says he... as sure as my briam eggs is on cockshot under noose, all them little upandown dippies they was all of a libidous pickpuckparty and raid on a wriggolo finsky doodah in testimonials to their early bisectualism.Such, he says, is how the reverend Coppinger, he visualises the hidebound homelies of creed crux ethics. Watsch yourself tillicately every morkning in your bracksullied twilette. The use of cold water, testificates Dr Rutty, may be warmly recommended for the sugjugation of cungunitals loosed. Tolloll, schools!
Cf Kevin [qv]
-- Tallhell and Barbados wi ye and your Errian coprulation! Pelagiarist! ...Short lives to your relatives! Y'are absexed, so y'are, with mackerglosia and mickroocyphyllicks.-- Wait now, leixlep! I scent eggoarchicism. I vill take you to task. I don't follow you that far in your otherwise accurate account... You are taxing us into the driven future, are you not, with this ruttymaid fishery?
-- ...Gubbernathor! ...Spawning ova and fry like a marrye monach all amanygoround his seven parish churches...!
FDV: You are taking us into the future or are you not? - the fisheries question? -- The gubbernator! - and he was nothing short of it! Spawning all over the seven parishes!
-- Lift it now, Hosty! Hump's your mark...!-- There's an old psalmsobbing lax salmoner fogeyboren Herrin Plundehowse.
Who went floundering with his boatloads of spermin spunk about.
Leaping freck after every long tom and wet lissy between Howth and Humbermouth.
Our Human Conger Eel!
FDV: Have you heard of the psalmsinging salmoner
Herren Plunderowath Humpalout
How he went floundering + sploundering all his spunk about
Racing mad after after every longtom between here + Humbermouth
the Human Conger Eel
McH: Pluderhose = wide trousers (German) [pic, 1620]
McH: freck = lusty (archaic)
Conger eel [pix&faq]
-- Hep! I can see him in the fishnoo! ...Hold that lad! Play him, Markandeyn! Bullhead!
-- Pull you, sir! Olive quill does it... Did a rise?
FDV: Did we land him then? -> Did he rise then?
McH: fishnoo = fishnet + Vishnu
-- ...No, he skid like a skate... and never a fear but they'll land him yet, slitheryscales on liffeybank...
-- Do you say they will?
-- I bet you they will.
-- Among the shivering sedges so? Weedy waving.
-- Or tulipbeds of Rush below...-- And tell me now. Were these anglers or angelers coexistent and compresent with or without their tertium quid?
FDV: Were they fusiliers or the duke of Cromwall's... who were they to all that seen him?
McH: Pope Gregory I [bio], seeing English captives at Rome, called them 'not Angles but angels'
McH: tertium quid = a third something (Latin)
-- Three in one, one and three.
Shem and Shaun and the shame that sunders em.
Wisdom's son, folly's brother.
FDV: Wise son
-- God bless your ginger, wigglewaggle! That's three slots and no burners. You're forgetting the jinnyjos for the fayboys.-- ...Sure I thought it was larking in the trefoll of the furry glans with two stripping baremaids... he was, hand to dagger, that time and their mother... There was that one that was always mad gone on him, her first king of cloves...
McH: Maud Gonne [bio] loved by WB Yeats
McH: Clovis = king of Salian Franks [EB]
Sure she was near drowned in pondest coldstreams of admiration forherself... making faces at her bachspilled likeness in the brook after... all tossed, as she was...!
McH: Pond's Cold Cream
McH: back-spelled = mirror writing
Issy speaks:
-- Listenest, meme mearest! They were harrowd, those finweeds! Come, rest in this bosom! So sorry you lost him, poor lamb! Of course I know you are a viry vikid girl to go in the dreemplace and at that time of the draym and it was a very wrong thing to do, even under the dark flush of night, dare all grandpassia!
McH: dear old grandpa; grand passion
He's gone on his bombashaw. Through geesing and so pleasing at Strip Teasy up the stairs.
Cf Peaches Browning section ch3
McH: bashaw = pasha (Turkish officer)
The boys on the corner were talking too. And your soreful miseries first come on you.
McH: sorrowful mysteries = one of three sections of Rosary [info]
Still to forgive it, divine my lickle wiffey, and everybody knows you do look lovely... My, you do! Simply adorable
McH: "little wifey" (Ulysses-Nausikaa [qv])
Perhaps this is the narcissist Tristan speaking to Issy in the mirror?
Could I but pass my hands some, my hands through, thine hair! ...Chic hands. The way they curve there under nue charmeen cuffs! I am more divine like that when I've two of everything up to boyproof knicks. Winning in a way, only my arms are whiter, dear. Blanchemain, idler. Fairhair, frail one.
McH: Isolde Blanchemains was Tristan's wife in Brittany
Listen, meme sweety! O be joyfold! Mirror do justice, taper of ivory, heart of the conavent, hoops of gold! My veil will save it undyeing from his ethernal fire!
McH: joyful mysteries section of Rosary
McH: Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary: "Mirror of justice... Tower of ivory, House of gold, Ark of the covenant" [full text]
It's meemly us two, meme idoll.
FDV: There's only the two of us -> It's only us two.
Of course it was downright verry wickred of him, reely meeting me disguised, Bortolo mio, peerfectly appealling, D.V., with my lovebirds, my colombinas... (Mon ishebeau! Ma reinebelle!)... even my little pom got excited, when I turned his head on his same manly bust and kissed him more... Still me with you, you poor chilled! Will make it up... and a glorious lie between us, sweetness, so as not a novene... need ever know, what passed our lips or. Yes sir, we'll will! ...So meme nearest, languished hister, be free to me! (I'm fading!) And listen, you, you beauty, esster, I'll be clue to who knows you... (I'm fay!)
McH: glorious mysteries section of Rosary
-- ...How is this at all? Is dads the thing in such or are tits the that? ...Where's your pal in silks alustre? ...Is she having an ambidual act herself in apparition with herself as Consuelas to Sonias may?
McH: Ding an sich: Kant's thing in itself
McH: silks alustre = Sechselauten (Zurich spring festival)
FDV: Is this young lady by herself? -> what exactly is she doing with herself?
-- ...Your crackling out of your turn, my Moonster firefly, like always...
FDV: You're talking out of yer turn, my bouncer. Here. How many females was it? Was there more than... [unfinished]
out of turn + out of your ass?
crackling: at one level, the discussion is taking place over (old-fashioned) radio
Jump the railchairs or take them, as you please, but and, sir, my queskins first, foxyjack!
McH: and sir = answer
...Did the market missioners Hayden Wombwell, when given the raspberry, fine more than sandsteen per cent of chalk in the purity, promptitude and perfection flour of this raw materialist and less than a seventh pro mile in his meal?
FDV: Did the food inspector fine more than 16% of water in his purity flower?
We met Missioner Ida Wombwell in the Plebiscite [qv] of ch3. HCE's defenses to the Cad [qv] and d'Esterre [qv] hint at an accusation of selling impure foodstuffs.
We bright young chaps of the brandnew braintrust are... empanelled... to know had the peeress of generals... had they their service books in order and duly signed J. H. North and Company when discharged from their last situations?
FDV: I am here to know Have the two generals their service books in order and duly signed when leaving their last situation?
Will ye gup and tell the board in the anterim how... did O'Bejorumsen... come into awful position of the barrel of bellywash?
FDV: How did Magrath + the man charging him come into lawful position of the barrel of wash?
McH: anteroom + Antrim + interim
And why... was this hackney man... carrying his ark, of eggshaped fuselage... across his back when he might have been setting on his jonass inside like a Glassthure cabman?
McH: Glasthule, Dun Laoghaire was a cab terminus
Where were the doughboys, three by nombres... directing their steps... with their trench ulcers open and their hands in their pockets, contrary to military rules, when confronted with his lifesize obstruction?
FDV: Where were the doughboys, three in number, proceeding when confronted with his obstruction?
McH: ulster = overcoat made in Belfast
...Is it a factual fact... that this fancydress nordic... is coowner of a hengster's circus near North Great Denmark Street... and... has been complaining to the police barracks... about him being molested... 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?
FDV: Is it a fact that this man is the owner of a hengster's circus + complained to the police that he has been molested by offers of vacancies from female boys in this city neighing after him, once they saw his lifesize picture in the sheets?
...Where's that gendarm auxiliar... that reported on the whole hoodlum, relying on his morse-erse wordybook and the trunchein up his tail? ...Recall Sickerson, the lizzyboy! ...Sackerson! Hookup!
FDV: Where's that auxiliary poleshman that saw the whole occurrence. Sackerson!
-- Day shirker four vanfloats he verdants market.
High liquor made lust torpid dough hunt her orchid.
McH: Ibsen's Danish for "You deluge the world to its topmost mark; With pleasure I will torpedo the Ark."
We saw the drunken Sackerson/Sigurdsen at the opening of ch14 [qv] and again at the end of that chapter (as Sickerson) where he said (in Danish) "How much have we held back? To change course and so goodbye."
-- Hunt her orchid! Gob and he found it on her right enough! With her shoes upon his shoulders... A disgrace to the homely protestant religion! Bloody old preadamite with his twohandled umberella! Trust me to spy on me own spew!
FDV: Hunt her orchid! Old preadamite! with his 2hand umbrella + cutaway. Gob, and he will find it too.
Cf Ulysses-Circe [qv]: "THE NAMELESS ONE: Bareback riding. Weight for age. Gob, he organised her."
-- ...Call Kitty the Beads, the Mandame of Tipknock Castle! Let succuba succumb, the improvable his wealth made possible! He's cookinghagar that rost her prayer to him upon the top of the stairs. She's deep, that one.
This is old Kate.
McH: Hecuba, Copenhagen (Ibsen's city + Wellington's horse), Hagar; rost = raised
-- A farternoiser for his tuckish armenities. Ouhr Former who erred in having down to gibbous disdag our darling breed...
McH: Pater Noster
Master's gunne he warrs the bedst.
McH: Master's gone, he was the best. (So Kate, like Shem, is black?)
I messaged his dilltoyds sausepander mussels on the kisschen table. With my ironing duck through his rollpins of gansyfett, do dodo doughdy dough, till he was braising red in the toastface with lovensoft eyebulbs and his kiddledrum steeming and rattling like the roasties in my mockamill...
U-Hades "Wife ironing his back" We saw ALP in ch8 [qv] trying everything she could to cheer up gloomy HCE.
In Ulysses-Lestrygonians [qv], Bloom remembers (or imagines) flirting with the maid as she ironed: "Decoy duck. Hotblooded young student fooling round her fat arms ironing."
His lapper and libbers was glue goulewed as he sizzled there watching me lautterick's pitcher by Wexford-Atelier as Katty and Lanner, the refined souprette, with my bust alla brooche and the padbun under my matelote, showing my jigotty sleeves and all my new toulong touloosies. Whisk! There's me shims and here's me hams and this is me juppettes, gause be the meter! Whisk! What's this? Whisk! And that? He never cotched finer, balay me, at Romiolo Frullini's flea pantamine...
McH: Toulouse-Lautrec
So old Kate remembers being young Issy at an earlier turn of the cycle.
-- All halt! ...That's enough, genral... A final ballot, guvnor, to remove all doubt... Search ye the Finn! The sinder's under shriving sheet. Fa Fe Fi Fo Fum! Ho, croak, evildoer! Arise, sir ghostus! As long as you've lived there'll be no other. Doff!
McH: cherchez la femme; synder = sinner (Danish)
The next long speech by HCE is known as the Amtsadam or Haveth Childers Everywhere speech [analysis] [summary] [structure] and was published separately in 1930 [new reprint] [old paperback pic]
Danis Rose claims that Joyce's eye problems in 1928-29 resulted in this section having far more typos than any earlier passage, but that when his own corrections are restored it becomes "a fitting consort for Anna Livia Plurabelle, lyrical, freeflowing and immeasurably moving. HCE's defence of his life, pathetic at first, gathers momentum until, at the end, it becomes utterly convincing." (The Textual Diaries of James Joyce 1995)
-- Amtsadam, sir, to you! ...Here we are again! I am bubub brought up under a camel act of dynasties long out of print...
FDV: Sir, to you! I am brought up under an old act of Edward the First
but, in pontofacts massimust, I am known throughout the world wherever my good Allenglisches Angleslachsen is spoken... by saints and sinners eyeeye alike as a cleanliving man and... I think how our public at large appreciates it most highly from me that I am as cleanliving as could be and that my game was a fair average since I perpetually kept my ouija ouija wicket up. On my verawife I never was nor can afford to be guilty of crim crig con of malfeasance trespass against parson with the person of a youthful gigirl frifrif friend chirped Apples... when I would touch to her dot and feel most greenily of her unripe ones...
McH: verawife = very life; dot = dowry (French); feed most greedily
And, as a mere matter of ficfect, I tell of myself how I popo possess the ripest littlums wifukie around the globelettes globes upon which she was romping off... with her consolation prize in my serial dreams of faire women... handicapped by two breasts...
FDV: + as a matter of fact I possess the sweetest little wife on the globe who won the consolation prize in the dreams of fair women competition -> ...in the dreams of fair women handicap by 2 breasts.
And, alas, our private chaplain... an always sadfaced man... who has visited our various hard hearts and reins by imposition of fufuf fingers, olso haddock's fumb, in that Upper Room can speak loud to you some quite complimentary things about my clean charactering, even when detected in the dark, distressful though such recital prove to me...
FDV: My clergyman who has visited our very reins and hearts with the aid of my wife I mean to say can speak to you of my private morals as clean -> of my clean character in the dark.
McH: Psalm 7: "For the righteous God trieth the heart and reins" ('reins' = kidneys = secret feelings? [cite])
I protest there is luttrelly not one teaspoonspill of evidence at bottomlie to my babad, as you shall see... And I contango can take off my dudud dirtynine articles of quoting here in Pynix Park before those in heaven to provost myself... to their favoured client, into my preprotestant caveat against the pupup publication of libel... to my nonesuch, that highest personage at moments holding down the throne...
FDV: There is not a teaspoonful of evidence to my bad and I can humbly protest against everything to the higher personage at this moment holding down the throne.
McH: 39 Articles of clothing; prove myself
Happen seen sore eynes belived?
McH: Have you experienced one like that? (German)
It was my brother not me:
...I protest it that he is, by my wipehalf. He was leaving out of my double inns while he was all teppling over my single ixits... Sherlook is lorking for him... Shame upon Private M! ...Such ratshause bugsmess so I cannot barely conceive of! Lowest basemeant in hystry! Ibscenest nansence!
References to H Travers Smith's book claiming Oscar Wilde spoke thru a medium, at seances:
...Tell the woyld I have lived true thousand hells. Pity, please, lady, for poor O.W. in this profundust snobbing I have caught... I askt you, dear lady, to judge on my tree by our fruits. I gave you of the tree. I gave two smells, three eats.
McH: Genesis: "she gave me of the tree and I did eat"
My freeandies, my celeberrimates: my happy bossoms, my allfalling fruits of my boom. Pity poor Haveth Childers Everywhere with Mudder!
McH: celeberrimus = most honored (Latin); boom = tree (Dutch)
That was Communicator, a former colonel. A disincarnated spirit... may fernspreak shortly with messuages from my deadported. Let us cheer him up a little and make an appunkment for a future date... It looks like someone other bearing my burdens. I cannot let it. Kanes nought.
McH: Fernsprecher = telephone; Ich kann es nicht = I cannot do it (German)
Well, yeamen, I have bared my whole past, I flatter myself, on both sides... I am here to tell you, indeed to goodness, that, allbe I discountenanced beallpersuasions, in rinunciniation of pomps of heretofore, with a wax too held in hand, I am thorgtfulldt to do dope me of her miscisprinks and... to convert me into a selt...
McH: candle in "Grace"; misprints; Celt
page image from 1931 edition
A man should stump up and I will pay my pretty decent trade price for my glueglue gluecose... and, as a matter of fact, I undertake to discontinue entyrely all practices... which although allowed of in Deuterogamy as in several places of Scripture (copyright) and excluded books... would seem eggseggs excessively haroween to my feelimbs...
FDV: As a matter of fact I undertake to discontinue the practice.
McH: harrowing to my feelings
Thou... enquick me if so be I did cophetuise milady's maid! In spect of her beavers she is a womanly and sacret...
McH: King Cophetua made a beggarmaid his queen,
McH: in spite of her beard
Inprobable! I do not credit one word of it from such and suchess mistraversers. Just feathers! Nanenities! ...So hemp me Cash! I meanit. My herrings! The surdity of it! Amean to say. Her bare idears, it is choochoo chucklesome... What a shrubbery trick to play! I will put my oathhead unner my whitepot for ransom of beeves and will stand me where I stood mine... by Roderick's our mostmonolith... and... testify to my unclothed virtue by the longstone erectheion of our allfirst manhere... Like as my palmer's past policy I have had my best master's lessons, as the public he knows, and do you know, homesters, I honestly think, if I have failed lamentably by accident benefits... I am doing my dids bits and have made of my prudentials good... Have I said ogso how I abhor myself vastly (truth to tell) and do repent to my netherheart of suntry clothing?
FDV: I have had my lesson.
The amusin part is, I will say, hotelmen, that since I... platzed mine residenze... and overdrave these marken... here where my tenenure of office and my toils of domestication first began... famine... has compolitely seceded from this landleague of many nations and open and notorious naughty livers are found not on our rolls.
FDV: I will say that since my toils of domestication began famine has receded from the land.
HCE brags about the city he's built:
This seat of our city it is of all sides pleasant, comfortable and wholesome. If you would traverse hills, they are not far off... If you would be delited with fresh water, the famous river, called of Ptolemy the Libnia Labia, runneth fast by. If you will take the view of the sea, it is at hand. Give heed!
McH: (paraphrase of ancient Chronicles)
Things are not as they were. Let me briefly survey...
Cf the end of ch1 [qv]: "Everything's going on the same or so it appeals to all of us, in the old holmsted here."
Here Tyeburn throttled, massed murmars march: where the bus stops there shop I: here which ye see, yea reste.
McH: Tyburn = site of London public hangings
McH: Shakespeare's Tempest [qv]: "Where the bee sucks, there suck I" [RealAud
McH: in the Crimean War, a Zouave named MacMahon warned that it might be safer to fall back, replied, "J'y suis, j'y reste." [more] [more]
On me, your sleeping giant... I raised a dome on the wherewithouts of Michan: by awful tors my wellworth building sprang sky spearing spires, cloud cupoled campaniles: further this...
McH: Eiffel Tower; Woolworth Building
McH: Shakespeare's Tempest: "cloud-capp'd towers"
I braved Brien Berueme to berow him against the Loughlins, all her tolkies shraking: Fugabollags! ...Who can tell their tale whom I filled ad liptum on the plain of Soulsbury?
McH: (various battles)
...tuberclerosies I reized spudfully from the murphyplantz Hawkinsonia and berriberries from the pletoras of the Irish shou...
McH: potato diet causes beriberi (vitamin deficiency)
I richmounded the rainelag in my bathtub of roundwood and conveyed it with cheers and cables, roaring mighty shouts, through my longertubes of elm...
McH: (reservoirs and waterworks)
in Forum Foster I demosthrenated my folksfiendship, enmy pupuls felt my burk was no worse than their brite... and I beggered about the amnibushes like belly in a bowle.
McH: (public oratory)
In the humanity of my heart I sent out heyweywomen to refresh the ballwearied and then, doubling megalopolitan poleetness, my great great greatest of these charities, devaleurised the base fellows for the curtailment of their lower man:
McH: highwayman; Dublin Metropolitan Police; 'the greatest of these is charity'; devalued base money
with a slog to square leg I sent my boundary to Botany Bay and I ran up a score and four of mes while the Yanks were huckling the Empire: I have been reciping om omominous letters...
McH: receiving anonymous letters
and widelysigned petitions full of pieces of pottery about my monumentalness as a thingabolls... Rest and bethinkful, with licence, thanks. I considered the lilies on the veldt and unto Balkis did I disclothe mine glory. And this.
McH: Balkis = Queen of Sheba
One of Joyce's inimitable mega-sentences, surveying HCE's citizen-tenants:
This missy, my taughters, and these man, my son... bonders and foeburghers, helots and zelots... in hommage all and felony, all who have received tickets, fair home overcrowded, tidy but very little furniture, respectable, whole family attends daily mass and is dead sick of bread and butter... mentally strained from reading work on German physics, shares closet with eight other dwellings, more than respectable... highly respectable... quasi respectable, pays ragman in bones for faded windowcurtains, staircase continually lit up with guests, particularly respectable, house lost in dirt and blocked with refuse... in business for himself... partly respectable... chucked work over row... sharing closet which is profusely written over with eleven other subscribers, once respectable, open hallway pungent of Baltic dishes, bangs kept woman's head against wall thereby disturbing neighbours, private chapel occupies return landing... case one of peculiar hopelessness, most respectable... of dubious respectability... serious student is eating his last dinners, floor dangerous for unaccompanied old clergymen, thoroughly respectable... nearest watertap two hundred yards' run away... man has not had boots off for twelve months, infant being taught to hammer flat piano, outwardly respectable... eminently respectable... claret cellar cobwebbed since the pontificate of Leo... respectable in every way, harmless imbecile supposingly weakminded, a sausage every Sunday, has a staff of eight servants, outlook marred by ne'er-do-wells using the laneway, lieabed sons go out with sisters immediately after dark, has never seen the sea, travels always with her eleven trunks of clothing, starving cat left in disgust, the pink of respectability, resting after colonial service... the despair of his many benefactresses, calories exclusively from Rowntrees and dumplings, one bar of sunlight does them all january and half february... shares same closet with fourteen similar cottages and an illfamed lodginghouse, more respectable than some... inherited silk hat from father-in-law... queery how they live, reputed to procure, last four occupants carried out, mental companionship with mates only, respectability unsuccessfully aimed at, copious holes emitting mice... and respected and respectable, as respectable as respectable can respectably be, though their orable amission were the herrors I could have expected, all, let them all come, they are my villeins, with chartularies I have talledged them.
(Whew!)
McH: almost all these details were taken from a single book, Rowntree's 1902 "Poverty"
Wherfor I will and firmly command... that from the farthest of the farther of their fathers to their children's children's children they do inhabit it and hold it for me unencumbered and my heirs, firmly and quietly, amply and honestly, and with all the liberties and free customs which the men of Tolbris, a city of Tolbris, have at Tolbris, in the county of their city and through whole my land. Hereto my vouchers, knive and snuffbuchs. Fee for farm. Enwreak us wrecks...
McH: this is a parody on Henry II's 1172 charter granting Dublin to the citizens of Bristol.
Quo warranto has his greats my soliven and puissant lord V. king regards for me and he has given to me my necknamesh (flister it!) which is second fiddler to nomen.
McH: his grace, my sovereign and puissant lord Viking
McH: fluster = whisper (German)
These be my genteelician arms. At the crest, two young frish, etoiled, flappant, devoiled of their habiliments, vested sable, withdrewers argent. For the boss a coleopter, pondant, partifesswise, blazoned sinister, at the slough, proper. In the lower field a terce of lanciers, shaking unsheathed shafts, their arms crossed in saltire, embusked, sinople. Motto, in letters portent: Hery Crass Evohodie.
Heraldic arms, divided into three: two fish/girls at the top, an earwig in the middle, and three soldiers in ambush at the bottom.
McH: heri-cras-hodie = yesterday-tomorrow-today (Latin)
Lewis Carroll: "Jam to-morrow and jam yesterday-- but never jam today." [info] [etext]
Idle were it... to inquire whether I, draggedasunder, be the forced generation of group marriage... of my essenes... I, huddled til summone be the massproduct of teamwork... surrounded by obscurity... by my natural born freeman's journeymanright and my otherchurch's inher light... I pretend and reclam to opt for simultaneous... Verily! Verily! Time, place!
FDV: It were idle to inquire whether I am the product of group marriage or team work and, surrounded by obscurity, I claim my naturalborn right at common law to opt for [blank space]
first generation; essence
McH: Freeman's Journal; reclamo = I contradict loudly (Latin)
Mr Televox, Mrs Taubiestimm and invisible friends!
McH: taubstumm = deaf and dumb (German)
I maymay mean to say. Annoyin part of it was, had faithful Fulvia, following the wiening courses of this world, turned her back on her ways to gon on uphills upon search of louvers, brunette men of Earalend, Chief North Paw and Chief Goes in Black Water and Chief Brown Pool and Chief Night Cloud by the Deeps, or again had Fluvia, amber whitch she was, left her chivily crookcrook crocus bed at the bare suggestions of some prolling bywaymen from Moabit who could have abused of her, the foxrogues, there might accrue advantage to ask wher in pellmell her deceivers sinned. Yet know it was vastly otherwise... for Fulvia Fluvia... ever did ensue tillstead the things that pertained unto fairnesse, this wharom I am fawned on, that which was loost. Even so, for I waged love on her: and spoiled her undines. And she wept: O my lors!
FDV: I mean to say, had my faithful wife turned back on her ways in search of brunette men or had she left her crocus bed at the suggestion of some infamous fishermen there might be advantage to ask but she always did ensue whatsoever pertained unto fairness
How HCE guided ALP into a marriage bond:
But I was firm with her. And I did take the reached of my delights, my jealousy, ymashkt... snoutsnooded, and did raft her... from lacksleap up to liffsloup, tiding down... to Ringsend Flott and Ferry, where she began to bump a little bit, my dart to throw: and there... did I upreized my magicianer's puntpole... and I bade those polyfizzyboisterous seas to retire with hemselves from os... till I had done abate her maidan race, my baresark bride, and knew her fleshly when with all my bawdy did I her whorship, min bryllupswibe... And I cast my tenspan joys on her... so streng we were in one, malestream in shegulf... and tradesmanmarked her lieflang mine for all and singular... and me to she her shyblumes lifted: and I pudd a name and wedlock boltoned round her the which to carry till her grave, my durdin dearly, Appia Lippia Pluviabilla, whiles I herr lifer amstell and been: I chained her chastemate to grippe fiuming snugglers, her chambrett I bestank so to spunish furiosos: I was her hochsized, her cleavunto, her everest, she was my annie, my lauralad, my pisoved:
And how he kept her happy:
...who cut her ribbons when nought my prowes? ...had I not workit in my cattagut with dogshunds' crotts to clene and had I not gifted of my coataways, constantonoble's aim: and, fortiffed by my right as man of capitol, I did umgyrdle her about, my vermincelly vinagerette, with all loving kindness as far as in man's might it lay and enfranchised her to liberties of fringes: and I gave until my lilienyounger turkeythighs soft goods and hardware (catalogue, passim) and ladderproof hosiery lines (see stockinger's raiment), cocquette coiffs (see Agnes' hats)... and geegaws of my pretty novelties and wispywaspy frocks of redferns and lauralworths... and bedes of wampun with to toy... for all daintiness by me and theetime, the cupandnaggin hour: and I wound around my swanchen's neckplace a school of shells of moyles marine to swing their saysangs in her silents... for days there was no night for nights were days and our folk had rest from Blackheathen and the pagans from the prince of pacis: what was trembling sod quaked no more, what were frozen loins were stirred and lived: gone the septuor, dark deadly dismal doleful desolate dreadful desperate, no more the tolvmaans, bloody gloomy hideous fearful furious alarming terrible mournful sorrowful frightful appalling:
McH: (seven days, twelve months-- 'horrible' is missing after terrible?)
...peace, perfect peace: and I hung up at Yule my duindleeng lunas... for the souperhore of my frigid one, coloumba mea, frimosa mea...
FDV: and I did encompass her about, my vermin breeder, with lovingkindness and with soft goods and hardware and hosiery lines and all daintiness at teatime + bright suns for supperhour -> + pigmy suns for supperhour
McH: dwindling moons
three firths of the sea I swept with draughtness and all ennempties I bottled em up in bellomport:
Cf T&I vignette [qv]: "The sea, of a lovely tint embellished by the best charms of nature, with its wellmannered wavelets (the dirty horrid rude ones from the Belfast and Lagan Lough neighbourhood being very properly locked up in cubbyhole) looked really awfully pretty at the mid hour of night"
...when I stabmarooned jack and maturin I was a bad boy's bogey but it was when I went on to sankt piotersbarq that they gave my devil his dues:
Patrick O'Brian fans should experience a frisson here, for marooned Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin. McH sees Swift's Peter-Jack-Martin and the Irish novelist Maturin ("Melmoth the Wanderer" [etext]).
...on the island of Breasil the wildth of me perished and I took my plowshure sadly, feeling pity for me sored... I sate me and settled with the little crither of my hearth: her intellects I charmed with I calle them utile thoughts... my worthies were bissed and trissed from Joshua to Godfrey but my processus prophetarum they would have plauded to perpetuation. Moral: book to besure, see press.
And after these things, I fed her... upon spiceries for her garbage breath... feeding her food convenient herfor, to pass them into earth: and to my saffronbreathing mongoloid, the skinsyg, I gave... unguents of cuticure, for the swarthy searchall's face on her, with handewers and groinscrubbers and a carrycam to teaze her tussy out, the brown but combly... and clubmoss and wolvesfoot for her more moister wards (amazing efficiencies!):
FDV: + spiceries for her aged breath, to my saffron mongoloid I gave a ewer + loinscrapers and a currycomb for her frizzy, clubmoss and wolvesfoot for her moister places
He was a creative lover?:
and, my shopsoiled doveling... I did devise my telltale sports at evenbread to wring her withers limberly... I foredreamed for thee and more than fullmaked... I said to the shiftless prostitute; let me be your fodder; and to rodies and prater brothers; Chau, Camerade!: evangel of good tidings, omnient as the Healer's word, for the lost, loathsome and whomsoever will: who, in regimentation through liberal donation in coordination for organisation of their installation and augmentation plus some annexation and amplification without precipitation towards the culmination in latification of what was formerly their utter privation, competence, cheerfulness, usefulness and the meed, shall, in their second adams, all be made alive: my tow tugs steered down canal grand, my lighters lay longside on Regalia Water.
Images of civic stability and beneficence
And I built in Urbs in Rure, for minne elskede... under astrolobe from my upservatory, an erdcloset with showne ejector wherewithin to be squatquit in most covenience from her sabbath needs, when open noise should stilled be:
FDV: and an earthcloset for her weekly needs
Cf Ulysses-Eolus [qv] on the Roman Empire: "-- What was their civilisation? Vast, I allow: but vile. Cloacae: sewers. The Jews in the wilderness and on the mountaintop said: It is meet to be here. Let us build an altar to Jehovah. The Roman, like the Englishman who follows in his footsteps, brought to every new shore on which he set his foot (on our shore he never set it) only his cloacal obsession. He gazed about him in his toga and he said: It is meet to be here. Let us construct a watercloset. -- Which they accordingly did do, Lenehan said. Our old ancient ancestors, as we read in the first chapter of Guinness's, were partial to the running stream. -- They were nature's gentlemen, J.J. O'Molloy murmured."
did not I festfix with mortarboard my unniversiries, wholly rational and gottalike, sophister agen sorefister, life sizars all?: ...Oi polled ye many but my fews were chousen... And I sept up twinminsters, the pro and the con... tect my tileries (O tribes! O gentes!), keep my keep, the peace of my four great ways... and that was why Blabus was razing his wall and eltering the suzannes of his nighboors: and thirdly, for ewigs, I did reform and restore for my smuggy piggiesknees... her paddypalace on the crossknoll... and added thereunto a shallow laver to slub out her hellfire and posied windows for her oriel house... May all have mossyhonours!
FDV: + I restored for her her paddypalace + added therunto a laver to put out her hellfire
Education, politics, and maybe construction and religion.
And... with fairskin book and ruling rod... her chastener ever I did learn my little ana countrymouse in alphabeater cameltemper, from alderbirk to tannenyou, with myraw rattan atter dundrum; ooah, oyir, oyir, oyir:
FDV: I did learn my little country mouse her letters alphabeater cameltenter birch to hazelyou, with a rattan to her drum, ooah oyir oyir oyir
and I did spread before my Livvy... my selvage mats of lecheworked lawn, my carpet gardens of Guerdon City, with... pensilled turisses for the busspleaches of the summiramies and esplanadas and statuesques and templeogues... for irkdays and for folliedays till the comple anniums of calendarias, gregoromaios ant gypsyjuliennes as such are pleased of theirs to walk:
FDV: and I did spread for her my selvage mats of soft lawn
and I planted for my own hot lisbing lass a quickset vineyard and I fenced it about with huge Chesterfield elms and Kentish hops and rigs of barlow and bowery nooks... and pons for aguaducks: a hawthorndene, a feyrieglenn,... with a magicscene wall (rimrim! rimrim!) for a Queen's garden of her phoenix:
FDV: and I planted for her a vineyard and fenced it about with Chesterfield elms
and (hush! hush!) I brewed for my alpine plurabelle, wigwarming wench, (speakeasy!) my granvilled brandold Dublin lindub, the free, the froh, the frothy freshener, puss, puss, pussyfoot, to split the spleen of her maw:
FDV: and I brewed for her strong Dublin lindubl to split the spleen of her maw
and I laid down before the trotters to my eblanite my stony battered waggonways... running boullowards... whereon... claudesdales withe arabinstreeds, Roamer Reich's rickyshaws... madridden mustangs... and turnintaxis, and tall tall tilburys and nod nod noddies, others gigging gaily, some sedated in sedans... the mule and the hinny and the jennet and the mustard nag... steppit lively (lift ye the left and rink ye the right!) for her pleashadure: and she lalaughed in her diddydid domino to the switcheries of the whip. Down with them! Kick! Playup!Mattahah! Marahah! Luahah! Joahanahanahana!
FDV: and I gave unto my eblanite waggonways of the stone whereon the hinny and the mule and the many donkeys stepped lively for her pleashadure and she laughed at the cracking of the whip. -- Mattah markah lukah johah
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