The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses The 1922: Text with Essays and Notes 9781316515945, 9781009027007, 2022012255

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THE CA MBRIDGE CENTENARY

The 1922 Text with Essays and Notes Edited by CATHERINE FLYNN

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses James Joyce’s Ulysses is considered one of the greatest novels of the twentieth century. This new edition – published to celebrate the book’s first publication – helps readers to understand the pleasures of this monumental work and to grapple with its challenges. Copiously equipped with maps, photographs, and explanatory footnotes, it provides a vivid and illuminating context for the experiences of Leopold Bloom, Stephen Dedalus, and Molly Bloom, as well as Joyce’s many other Dublin characters, on June 16, 1904. Featuring a facsimile of the historic 1922 Shakespeare and Company text, this version includes Joyce’s own errata as well as references to amendments made in later editions. Each of the eighteen chapters of Ulysses is introduced by a leading Joyce scholar. These richly informative pieces discuss the novel’s plot and allusions, while exploring crucial questions that have puzzled and tantalized readers over the last hundred years. Catherine Flynn is Associate Professor of English at the University of California, Berkeley. She is the author of James Joyce and the Matter of Paris (Cambridge University Press, 2019) and the editor of the forthcoming The New Joyce Studies (Cambridge University Press, 2022). Before studying literature, she practiced as an architect in Vienna, Austria, and in her native Ireland.

The 1922 Text with Essays and Notes Edited by CATHERINE FLYNN

University Printing House, Cambridge cb2 8bs, United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York, ny 10006, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, vic 3207, Australia 314–321, 3rd Floor, Plot 3, Splendor Forum, Jasola District Centre, New Delhi – 110025, India 103 Penang Road, #05–06/07, Visioncrest Commercial, Singapore 238467 Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence. www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781316515945 doi 10.1017/9781009027007 Introduction, textual essays, apparatus and notes © Cambridge University Press 2022 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2022 Printed in the United Kingdom by TJ Books Limited, Padstow Cornwall A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data names: Joyce, James, 1882–1941, author. | Flynn, Catherine (Anglicist), editor. title: The Cambridge centenary Ulysses : the 1922 text with essays and notes / James Joyce ; edited by Catherine Flynn. other titles: Ulysses. description: Cambridge ; New York, ny : Cambridge University Press, 2022. | Includes bibliographical references and index. identifiers: lccn 2022012255 | isbn 9781316515945 (hardback) subjects: lcsh: Joyce, James, 1882–1941. Ulysses. | City and town life–Fiction. | Dublin (Ireland)–Fiction. | Married people–Fiction. | Jewish men–Fiction. | BISAC: LITERARY CRITICISM / European / English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh | lcgft: Experimental fiction. | Epic fiction. | Literary criticism. | Essays. classification: lcc PR6019.O9 U4 2022 | ddc 823/.912–dc23/eng/20220317 lc record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022012255 isbn 978-1-316-51594-5 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

For you, the reader, setting off on a long and arduous adventure

“Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story of that man skilled in all ways of contending, the wanderer, harried for years on end, after he plundered the stronghold on the proud height of Troy.” Homer, The Odyssey, Book 1, lines 1–5, translated by Robert Fitzgerald

O, rocks! she said. Tell us in plain words. Ulysses

That is how poets write, the similar sounds. But then Shakespeare has no rhymes: blank verse. The flow of the language it is. The thoughts. Solemn. Ulysses

CONTENTS page ix xi xii xv xvii xxii xxiii xxvi

List of Illustrations List of Maps Notes on Contributors Preface Chronology of Joyce’s Life List of Abbreviations A Note on Annotations Guide for Readers Introduction Catherine Flynn

1

Joyce’s Schemata for Ulysses

ULYSSES

12

with Introductory Essays

1 “Telemachus” Karen R. Lawrence

25

2

“Nestor”  Robert Spoo

58

3

“Proteus”  Sam Slote

81

4

“Calypso”  Margot Norris

105

5

“Lotus Eaters”  Maud Ellmann

130

6

“Hades”  Barry Devine

156

viii · Contents

  7

“Aeolus”  Terence Killeen

192

  8

“Lestrygonians” Matthew Hayward

234

  9

“Scylla and Charybdis”  Matthew Creasy

276

10

“Wandering Rocks”  Scarlett Baron

320

11

“Sirens”  Katherine O’Callaghan

367

12

“Cyclops”  Vincent J. Cheng

412

13

“Nausicaa”  Vicki Mahaffey

473

14

“Oxen of the Sun”  Sarah Davison

520

15

“Circe”  Ronan Crowley

572

16

“Eumaeus”  Tim Conley

740

17

“Ithaca”  Fritz Senn

803

18

“Penelope”  Catherine Flynn

884

The Errata Ronan Crowley and Catherine Flynn

938

Further Reading Index of Recurrent Characters

943 948

ILLUSTRATIONS 1 Sandycove Point with a view of the Martello Tower in the background (National Library of Ireland) page 26 27 2 Martello Tower, Sandycove (Ian Gunn, Elizabeth Tyndall Layton) 3 Dalkey from Sorrento (joyceimages.com) 59 4 Strand Road, Sandymount (National Library of Ireland) 82 5 7 Eccles Street (Ian Gunn, Elizabeth Tyndall Layton) 106 131 6 Tram at the corner of Grafton Street and Nassau Street (joyceimages.com) 132 7 Lincoln Place Turkish Bath Company (Ian Gunn, Elizabeth Tyndall Layton) 156 8 The Old Circle, Glasnevin Cemetery (joyceimages.com) 9 The grave of Parnell, with the O’Connell monument and mortuary chapel in the background (National Library of Ireland) 157 10 Nelson’s Pillar (National Library of Ireland) 193 194 11 A boy selling newspapers at Harcourt Street Station (National Library of Ireland) 12 College Green, with the Bank of Ireland and Trinity College Dublin (National Library of Ireland) 234 235 13 Sackville Street (now O’Connell Street) (Dublin City Library and Archives) 276 14 The National Library (Dublin City Library and Archives) 323 15 William Humble, Earl of Dudley (Wikimedia Commons) 16 A man walking on Eden Quay, accompanied by a policeman (John J. Clarke) (National Library of Ireland) 324 367 17 Grattan Bridge and Ormond Quay (Robert French) (National Library of Ireland) 368 18 Miss Ellaline Terriss (joyceimages.com) 412 19 Bernard Kiernan’s public house, 8–10 Little Britain Street (joyceimages.com) 20 Dublin Corporation Fruit, Vegetable, and Flower Market (Historical Picture Archive) 413 473 21 Woman sitting on a wall (National Library of Ireland) 22 Fragment of Ian Gunn’s composite, fictionalized, “Ulysses Telegraph Poster,” Split Pea Press, 1990 (Ian Gunn) 478 481 23 Sir John Martin-Harvey (Wikimedia Commons) 24 The National Maternity Hospital, 29–31 Holles Street (Dublin City Library and Archives) 521 25 A group of people at the Great Exhibition, Herbert Park (1907), including “highly respectable ladies” (National Library of Ireland) 573 26 Faithful Place, off Lower Tyrone Street in Dublin’s “Monto” (Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland) 574 740 27 Custom House (National Library of Ireland)

x · List of Illustrations

28 A 1917 protest meeting at Beresford Place, Butt Bridge (and cabman’s shelter) (National Library of Ireland) 29 7 Eccles Street area (Ian Gunn, Elizabeth Tyndall Layton) 30 Lancers and spectators attend the Queen’s visit to Dublin, Merrion Square (National Library of Ireland)

741 804 885

MAPS 1 Sandycove 2 Dalkey 3 Sandymount Strand 4 Eccles Street 5 Sir Rogerson’s Quay to Leinster Street 6 Sandymount to Glasnevin Cemetery 7 Princes Street to Bachelors Walk 8 Sackville Street (O’Connell Street) to Kildare Street 9 The National Library and the National Museum, Kildare Street 10 Viceregal Lodge, Phoenix Park to the Royal Dublin Society Showgrounds, Ballsbridge 11 Ormond Quay and Grattan Bridge 12 Stoney Batter to Little Britain Street 13 Sandymount Strand 14 Holles Street Hospital to Westland Row 15 Amiens Street Station to Monto, “Nighttown” 16 Amiens Street to the cabman’s shelter, Butt Bridge 17 Cabman’s shelter to Eccles Street 18 Eccles Street

page 28 60 83 107 133 158 195 236 277 327 369 414 479 522 575 742 805 886

CONTRIBUTORS Catherine Flynn, Volume Editor, is Associate Professor of English at the University of California, Berkeley. She is the author of James Joyce and the Matter of Paris (Cambridge University Press, 2019), editor of The New Joyce Studies (Cambridge University Press, 2022), and editor with Richard Brown of a special issue of James Joyce Quarterly, “Joycean AvantGardes.” She has also published on Walter Benjamin, Brecht, Kafka, Surrealism, De Stijl, Marxist literary criticism, the avant-garde, and Flann O’Brien. She hosts a podcast related to this volume called U22: The Centenary Ulysses Podcast. Scarlett Baron is Associate Professor in the English Department at University College London. She is the author of “Strandentwining Cable”: Joyce, Flaubert, and Intertextuality (Oxford University Press, 2012) and The Birth of Intertextuality: The Riddle of Creativity (Routledge, 2019). She has written several essays on Joyce and his relations to other modernist and postmodernist authors. She is an elected Trustee of the International James Joyce Foundation.  Vincent J. Cheng is Shirley Sutton Thomas Professor of English at the University of Utah. He is the author of many scholarly articles and books, including Joyce, Race, and Empire (Cambridge University Press, 1995), Shakespeare and Joyce: A Study of “Finnegans Wake” (Penn State University Press, 1990), “Le Cid”: A Translation in Rhymed Couplets, Inauthentic: The Anxiety Over Culture and Identity (Rutgers University Press, 2004), and, most recently, Amnesia and the Nation: History, Forgetting, and James Joyce (Palgrave, 2018). Tim Conley is Professor of English and Comparative Literature at Brock University in Canada. His works on Joyce include Joyces Mistakes: Problems of Intention, Irony, and Interpretation (University of Toronto Press, 2003), Joyce’s Disciples Disciplined (as editor, University College Dublin, 2010), Doubtful Points: Joyce and Punctuation (as co-editor, Brill, 2014), Useless Joyce: Textual Functions, Cultural Appropriations (University of Toronto Press, 2017), and The Varieties of Joycean Experience (Anthem Press, 2020). Matthew Creasy is a Senior Lecturer in English Literature at the University of Glasgow. His critical edition of Arthur Symons’s The Symbolist Movement in Literature was published by Fyfield-Carcanet in 2014 and he is currently editing George Moore’s Confessions of a Young Man for the Modern Humanities Research Association. He led the Arts and Humanities Research Council-funded network “Decadence and Translation” and the “Scottish Cosmopolitanism at the Fin de Siècle” workshop for the Royal Society of Edinburgh. He has published essays and articles on the work of James Joyce, William Empson, Arthur Symons, and Victorian periodicals and decadence. 

Notes on Contributors · xiii

Ronan Crowley is a postdoctoral researcher at Aarhus University in Denmark and the Vice President and President-Elect of the International James Joyce Foundation. He has co-edited two collections of essays on Joyce, New Quotatoes (Brill, 2016) and The Art of James Joyce (University of Tulsa Press, 2020), and is part of the editorial team behind jamesjoycecorrespondence.org, an open access scholarly edition of the unpublished Joyce letters. He is currently completing a monograph on the writing of Ulysses. Sarah Davison is Assistant Professor in English Literature at the University of Nottingham. She is the author of Modernist Literatures: A Reader’s Guide to Essential Criticism (Palgrave, 2014), as well as several articles on Joyce’s source materials for the “Oxen of the Sun” episode. Her next monograph, Modernist Parody: Imitation, Origination, and Experimentation in Early TwentiethCentury Literature is forthcoming with Oxford University Press. Barry Devine is Assistant Professor of English at Heidelberg University. He is currently researching James Joyce’s revisions to Ulysses during the six months before publication in February 1922. He has published numerous articles and essays on Joyce, including “Daren’t Joke about the Dead: James Joyce’s Concerted Effort to Include Humor in the Hades Episode of Ulysses” in Genetic Joyce Studies. Maud Ellmann is Randy L. & Melvin R. Berlin Professor of the Development of the Novel in English at the University of Chicago. She is the author of The Nets of Modernism: Henry James, Virginia Woolf, James Joyce, and Sigmund Freud (Cambridge University Press, 2010), Elizabeth Bowen: The Shadow Across the Page (Edinburgh University Press, 2003), The Hunger Artists: Starving, Writing, and Imprisonment (Harvard University Press, 1993), and The Poetics of Impersonality: T. S. Eliot and Ezra Pound (Harvard University Press, 1987). She is the editor of Psychoanalytic Literary Criticism (Longman, 1994) and the Edinburgh Companion to Irish Modernism, co-edited with Siân White and Vicki Mahaffey (Edinburgh University Press, 2021). Matthew Hayward is Senior Lecturer in Literature and Director of Education at the University of the South Pacific, Fiji. He has published on James Joyce, modernism, and Pacific literature in such journals as Modernism/modernity, Texas Studies in Literature and Language, and James Joyce Quarterly, and in numerous collections. He is co-editor (with Maebh Long) of the volume New Oceania: Modernisms and Modernities in the Pacific (Routledge, 2019), and is currently working on two monographs, Joyce in Business, and (with Maebh Long) Oceanian Modernism. Terence Killeen is Research Scholar at the James Joyce Centre, Dublin. He is the author of Ulysses Unbound: A Reader’s Companion to Ulysses, recently reissued by the University Press of Florida. He regularly leads seminars and lectures at both the Dublin and Trieste James Joyce Summer schools. His most recent publication is an essay on the earliest version of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, which appears in the collection Joyce’s Non-Fiction Writings. He is a former journalist at the Irish Times, where he still writes on Joyce-related matters. A member of the board of the James Joyce Centre, Dublin, he was a keynote speaker at the North American James Joyce Conference in Mexico City in 2019. Karen R. Lawrence is President of the Huntington Library, Art Museum, and Botanical Gardens, former President of Sarah Lawrence College, Dean of Humanities at the University of California, Irvine, and Professor of English and Comparative Literature. She is the author of Who’s Afraid of James Joyce? (University Press of Florida, 2010), Techniques for Living: Fiction and Theory in the Works of Christine Brooke-Rose (Ohio University Press, 2010), Transcultural Joyce (Cambridge University Press, 1998), Penelope Voyages: Women and Travel in the British Literary

xiv · Notes on Contributors

Tradition (Cornell University Press, 1994), Decolonizing Tradition: New Views of Twentieth-Century “British” Literary Canons (University of Illinois Press, 1991), and The Odyssey of Style in Ulysses (Princeton University Press, 1981), as well as numerous essays and articles. She served as President of the International James Joyce Foundation from 1991 to 1996. Vicki Mahaffey is Kirkpatrick Professor of English and Gender and Women’s Studies at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. She is the author of several works on Joyce and modernism, including Modernist Literature: Challenging Fictions (Oxford University Press, 2007), States of Desire: Wilde, Yeats, Joyce and the Irish Experiment (Oxford University Press, 1998), and Reauthorizing Joyce (University Press of Florida, 1995). Margot Norris is Chancellor’s Professor Emerita of English and Comparative Literature at the University of California, Irvine. She is the author of numerous books on the works of James Joyce, including The Decentered Universe of “Finnegan’s Wake” (Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977), Joyce’s Web: The Social Unraveling of Modernism (University of Texas Press, 1992), Suspicious Readings of Joyce’s “Dubliners” (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003), Ulysses (Cork University Press, 2004), a study of the 1967 Joseph Strick film of the novel, and Virgin and Veteran Readings of “Ulysses” (Palgrave, 2011). Katherine O’Callaghan lectures on James Joyce, modernism, Irish literature, and the role of music in novels at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst. She is a member of the Board of Trustees of the International James Joyce Foundation. She received her PhD on the topic of Joyce and Music from University College Dublin. She is the editor of Essays on Music and Language in Modernist Literature: Musical Modernism (Routledge, 2018), and the co-editor, with Oona Frawley, of Memory Ireland Volume IV: James Joyce and Cultural Memory (Syracuse University Press, 2014). Her essays on Joyce have appeared in James Joyce Quarterly and European Joyce Studies. Fritz Senn has directed the Zurich James Joyce Foundation since its inception in 1985. He has been connected with the Wake Newslitter and James Joyce Quarterly and published on Joyce and translation issues. His books include Joyce’s Dislocutions: Essays on Reading as Translation (Johns Hopkins University Press, 1984); Inductive Scrutinies: Focus on Joyce (Lilliput Press, 1995); Joycean Murmoirs: Fritz Senn on James Joyce (edited by Christine O’Neill, Lilliput Press, 2007), and Noch mehr über Joyce: Streiflichter (Frankfurt: Schöffling & Co., 2012). Sam Slote is Associate Professor in the School of English at Trinity College Dublin. He is the author of Joyce’s Nietzschean Ethics (Palgrave, 2013) and is the co-editor, with Luca Crispi, of How Joyce Wrote “Finnegans Wake” (University of Wisconsin Press, 2007). His Annotations to James Joyce’s “Ulysses,” co-written with Marc Mamigonian and John Turner, will be published by Oxford University Press in 2021. In addition to Joyce and Beckett, he has written on Virginia Woolf, Vladimir Nabokov, Raymond Queneau, Antonin Artaud, Dante, Mallarmé, and Elvis. Robert Spoo is Chapman Distinguished Professor of Law at the University of Tulsa. He served as tenured faculty in the English Department at the University of Tulsa and as editor of the James Joyce Quarterly. He is the author of Without Copyrights: Piracy, Publishing, and the Public Domain (Oxford University Press, 2013), Copyright and Joyce: Litigating the Word: James Joyce in the Courts (Dublin James Joyce Centre, 2008), as well as Three Myths for Aging Copyrights: Tithonus, Dorian Gray, Ulysses (National Library of Ireland, 2004), James Joyce and the Subject of History (University of Michigan Press, 1996), and James Joyce and the Language of History: Dedalus’s Nightmare (Oxford University Press, 1994).

PREFACE James Joyce’s Ulysses is a book that many try but fail to read. In celebration of the centenary of its first appearance, this edition is designed to help you grapple with its difficulties. You can, of course, read Ulysses right through, unassisted, and confront its challenges head on. Alternatively, you can avail of the support this book offers. At its local level, Ulysses features a mass of obscure reference and arcane diction, and this volume provides footnotes on each page to assist your progress through the text, although not in so much detail as to overwhelm you. These footnotes avoid involved scholarly interpretation and, sometimes, for a complex passage, they offer the logic of a set of references rather than an explanation of each one. There is a list of more detailed glossaries at the back of this volume. At a larger scale, Ulysses challenges the reader through its defiance of conventional modes of narration and characterization. In the introduction, I discuss why Joyce wrote such a challenging book. This difficulty, I argue, is the novel’s response to its historical and political moment, in which Ireland is emerging into freedom from centuries of colonial rule and in which, at a global scale, traditional values and conventions are being questioned. In an unprecedented way, Joyce reimagines the novel as a genre, to give us the thoughts, sensations, and memories of lowermiddle-class people on a relatively unremarkable day. In Ulysses Joyce reworks Homer’s Odyssey, one of the original epic struggles, to give expression to the challenges of modern experience. But there is also a limit to the usefulness of Homeric parallels. Ulysses’ refusal of easy answers shows the possibility of new meanings in a world that can be represented and remade in new and vibrant ways. In addition to the general introduction, there is an introductory essay on each chapter of the novel by a Joyce scholar of note. These eighteen essays are conceived as waystations to help the reader regroup for the next challenge, providing them with necessary orientation, information, and questions to ponder. The essays provide information on each episode’s events at a realistic level, its parallels to the Odyssey, its situation in the topography of Dublin, and its most significant historical and literary referents. I would like to thank the wonderful scholars who contributed to this volume. Their essays display their deep understanding of Ulysses, their skill in unfolding its significance, and their unique voices. This edition reproduces the historic 1922 Shakespeare & Company edition of Ulysses. I am grateful to the Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley, for providing a photo facsimile of a first edition from their special holdings. In this volume, in the margins beside the facsimile are the errata notes Joyce himself compiled in response to the printer’s mistakes in the first edition. At the back of this volume is an essay I have co-written with Ronan Crowley on the errata, and their compilation from Joyce’s various lists. This volume is not meant to replace the Hans Walter Gabler’s Ulysses, which has become the standard edition for scholars; indeed, it features keys in its margins to the line numbers of the Gabler edition, so that readers can move

xvi · Preface

easily between this volume and the Gabler and scholarly literature that cites it. It also features, in its footnotes, references to amendments in Gabler’s edition, itself a compendium of previous attempts to correct the text and a repository of new corrections based on Joyce’s manuscripts. To put together a volume like this is to be indebted to a community of Joyce scholars. This book follows in the wake of many exemplary editions of Ulysses, including Jeri Johnson’s Oxford World Classics facsimile edition of the 1922 text. The footnotes throughout this volume, and the index of recurrent characters starting on p. 949, draw on a body of annotation that scholars have developed over the past hundred years: early works like Thornton’s Allusions in “Ulysses” were built on by Gifford and Seidman’s “Ulysses” Annotated, which in turn has been revised and extended by Sam Slote, Marc Mamigonian, and John Turner in their recent Annotations to James Joyce’s “Ulysses.” Full details of these works are given in the Note on Annotations on p. xxiii. I would like to thank David Cox for his care in drawing the maps for each episode; I’m grateful to Ian Gunn for his extraordinarily informative James Joyce’s Dublin and for sharing the 1912 Ordnance Survey map which forms the basis of David’s drawings. I would also like to thank Patrick Flynn, of the James Joyce Gazette, for his help. I’m thankful to Fritz Senn for sharing images from the Zurich Foundation and likewise to Aida Yared for sharing images from her joyceimages website. I’d like to thank Elizabeth Tindall Layton for permitting me to reproduce images from her father William York Tindall’s book, The Joyce Country. I would like to thank the National Library of Ireland, the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland, and the Dublin City Library and Archive for permission to reproduce images from their collections. I’m very grateful to Ray Ryan, senior commissioning editor at Cambridge University Press, for his vision and support through the various stages of this project. I would also like to thank the team at Cambridge University Press who managed its complex production: Sarah Starkey, Sharon McCann, and Edgar Mendez. I am very grateful to Elizabeth Abel, Dan Blanton, Ronan Crowley, Matthew King, Katherine O’Callaghan, Vincent Sherry, and Sam Slote for their perceptive and insightful readings of drafts of my essays. I want to offer my deepest thanks to Ronan Crowley for his meticulousness in the compilation and labeling of the errata. I am very grateful to my research assistants Andy Haas, Emily Moell, and Jesus Diaz for their work. I want to thank the valiant students of my Spring 2020 Ulysses seminar at the University of California, Berkeley, who despite the onset of quarantine for COVID-19 continued with energy, insight, and curiosity, even when discussing footnotes, helping me to see again what the first-time reader sees in Ulysses. I am delighted that four students from the seminar are working with me on the U22 Podcast which accompanies this volume: Rafael Aguilar, Max Ambrose, Emily Moell, and Louie Poore. My hope is that the podcast, like this volume, will offer readers new ways through Joyce’s book. This volume has been a few years in the making but it is largely a product of quarantine in Berkeley and in Cork. In these straitened times, I owe so much to Thomas O’Dogherty and his sense of proportion. And to Kristin Primus and Colin Garretson for laughter, conversation, and companionable silence. I owe Denny O’Donovan for saving my bacon. My biggest debt is to my parents, for their inspirational energy and generosity. It was wonderful to be in a pod of Flynns, with them, my brothers Michael and Denis, their partners Linda and Orla, and their kids, Corey, Michael, and Elsie. To John, my brother here in California, and his partner Alisa, I am grateful in endless ways. Like Bloom, the modern-day Odysseus, we find our way home, to places that are both familiar and new, carried “by the proper perpetual motion of the earth through everchanging tracks of neverchanging space.”

CHRONOLOGY OF JOYCE’S LIFE 1882

James Joyce born on February 2, at 41 Brighton Square West, Rathgar, Dublin, eldest son of John Stanislaus Joyce, rate collector, and Mary Jane (“May”) Joyce, née Murray.

Virginia Stephen (  Woolf  ) and Wyndham Lewis born. Phoenix Park murders.

1884

Birth of Stanislaus Joyce, who, of JJ’s nine surviving siblings, was closest to him.

Fenians launch “dynamite campaign” in England. Gaelic Athletic Association founded.

1885

Ezra Pound and D. H. Lawrence born; Marx, Das Kapital. Irish Home Rule Party wins 86 of 103 contested seats in Parliament.

1886

Defeat of Gladstone’s Home Rule Bill for Ireland; Plan of Campaign (rent strike) begins.

1887

JJ’s uncle, William O’Connell, moves in with the family, as does Mrs “Dante” Hearn Conway, who is to act as governess.

Letters published in London Times implicate Charles Stewart Parnell in murder of Lord Frederick Cavendish, but are subsequently shown to be forgeries (1889).

1888

Joyce family moves to Bray, a fashionable suburb of Dublin. Joyce enrolls at Clongowes Wood College, a Jesuit boarding school, twenty miles west of Dublin.

T. S. Eliot born. Captain William O’Shea files petition for divorce, citing his wife’s adultery with Parnell.

1890

Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler; exposure of Parnell’s affair with Kitty O’Shea forces Gladstone to withdraw political support; Parnell repudiated by Irish Catholic clergy and ousted as leader of Home Rule Party.

1891

Withdrawn from Clongowes in June after father loses his position; writes a verse broadside on the occasion of the death of Charles Stewart Parnell, “Et Tu, Healy!” (none of the copies printed by John Joyce survives).

1892

Joyce family moves to Blackrock, halfway between Bray and Dublin, and then into central Dublin.

1893

After brief attendance at the Christian Brothers’ school in North Richmond Street, JJ and his brothers enroll in Belvedere College, a Jesuit day school, where he achieves a brilliant academic record; the Joyces move into central Dublin, their fortunes declining.

1894

Travels to Cork with his father. Joyces move to Drumcondra. At Belvedere, wins the first of several prizes for state examinations. Joyces move to North Richmond Street.

Parnell dies in Brighton and is buried in Glasnevin Cemetery.

Gaelic League founded. Home Rule Bill passes in the House of Commons but is defeated in the House of Lords.

xviii · Chronology of Joyce’s Life

1895

Joins the Sodality of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Trials of Oscar Wilde.

1896

Becomes prefect of the Sodality; attends retreat; has an encounter with a prostitute for the first time.

Socialist Republican Party formed.

1897

Wins prize for best English composition in Ireland in his grade.

1898

Begins to read Ibsen. Enters Royal University, now University College, Dublin (UCD). Joyce family moves repeatedly.

Dreyfus Affair in France.

1899

Attends opening night of Yeats’s play The Countess Cathleen and refuses to sign a protest by UCD students.

Irish Literary Theatre debuts in Dublin.

1900

Reads “Drama and Life” before the UCD Literary and Historical Society; publishes essay “Ibsen’s New Drama” in the Fortnightly Review and receives thanks from Ibsen. Joyce visits London; writes poems and plays, mostly destroyed.

Bergson, Rire (Laughter); Freud, The Interpretation of Dreams.

1901

Attacks the insularity of the Irish Literary Theatre in “The Day of the Rabblement”; the essay is refused by the college magazine St Stephen’s and JJ publishes it in a pamphlet with Francis Skeffington’s essay on women’s equality.

Boer War in South Africa ends; Queen Victoria dies, succeeded by Edward VII; anarchism and strikes in Italy and France; Freud, The Psychopathology of Everyday Life; Irish literary renaissance under Yeats, Lady Gregory, George Moore, and A. E. (George Russell).

1902

Delivers paper to Literary and Historical Society on James Clarence Mangan; brother George dies; JJ graduates from UCD with a degree in modern languages (proficiency in Latin, Italian, French, German, and literary Norwegian); leaves Dublin for Paris (ostensibly to study medicine) in late November; en route through London, introduced by Yeats to Arthur Symons; returns to Dublin for two weeks at Christmas.

1903

Hungry and isolated in Paris, studies in Bibliothèque Nationale and Bibliothèque Sainte-Geneviève; writes epiphanies, poems, the essay on aesthetics, and reviews; meets Synge; in April receives news his mother is dying and returns to Dublin; Mary Joyce dies on 13 August.

Synge’s In the Shadow of the Glen, staged at Irish National Theatre, stirs controversy over national art; Henry James, The Ambassadors.

1904

Writes “A Portrait of the Artist,” on January 7; revises it, after its rejection for publication in Dana, as Stephen Hero; publishes several future Chamber Music poems in the Speaker, Saturday Review, Dana, Venture, and three future Dubliners stories in the Irish Homestead; teaches in Dalkey at the Clifton School; in September, stays for ten days in the Martello Tower, Sandycove, with Oliver St John Gogarty (model for Buck Mulligan); satirizes Dublin literary scene in “The Holy Office”; meets Nora on June 10; they first go out together on June 16; they leave Dublin on October 8, traveling to Zurich, Trieste, and finally Pola (now Pula in Croatia), where JJ teaches in Berlitz school.

General Strike by anarcho-syndicalists in Italy; Abbey Theatre, Dublin, founded.

1905

Transferred to Berlitz school in Trieste; son Giorgio born on July 27; begins a nine-year struggle to publish Dubliners by submitting a manuscript (still lacking “Two Gallants,” “A Little Cloud,” and “The Dead”) to Dublin publisher Grant Richards; Stanislaus joins the family in Trieste.

Arthur Griffith presents “The Sinn Féin Policy.”

Chronology of Joyce’s Life · xix

1906

JJ and family move to Rome, where he works as foreign correspondent in bank; conceives of a short story called “Ulysses,” featuring a cuckolded Dubliner named Hunter believed to be Jewish; begins “The Dead.”

1907

Returns to Trieste and gives private lessons in English; Chamber Music published by Elkin Matthews, London; writes three articles on Ireland for Il Piccolo della Sera; lectures on “Ireland, Island of Saints and Sages” at the Università del Popolo in Trieste; eye troubles begin following rheumatic fever; daughter Lucia Anna born on July 26; finishes “The Dead” in September and begins to revise Stephen Hero as A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man; tells Stanislaus he will expand “Ulysses” into a short book as a “Dublin Peer Gynt.”

Women organize to gain suffrage in Europe and America; riots in Dublin after staging of Synge’s Playboy of the Western World; Picasso’s Demoiselles d’Avignon and emergence of Cubism in Paris. National Council and Sinn Féin League combine to create Sinn Féin.

1908

Finishes three chapters of Portrait.

Irish Transport and General Workers’ Union formed.

1909

Returns to Ireland twice: first, to arrange a contract with Maunsel & Co. for Dubliners, during which visit Vincent Cosgrave tells JJ that Nora had been unfaithful to him; JJ writes Nora a series of impassioned letters; second, to manage the Cinematograph Volta, which opened, with the backing of Triestine businessmen, on December 20.

Gertrude Stein, Three Lives; Wyndham Lewis, first stories published in Ford Madox (Hueffer) Ford’s English Review.

1910

Returns to Trieste in January, with sister Eva; Volta fails to make a profit and is sold; publication of Dubliners postponed by Maunsel & Co., who feared the effect on their reputation.

1911

Stanislaus continues to support the family, expresses resentment.

1912

Lectures on Blake and Defoe at the Università; writes article on Parnell for Il Piccolo; returns in July for last time to Ireland, visiting Galway and Dublin; Maunsel burns the sheets of Dubliners, prompting Joyce’s attack on Irish cultural parochialism, “Gas From a Burner.”

1913

Grant Richards expresses renewed interest in Dubliners; Yeats tells Ezra Pound of JJ; Pound contacts him and interests Dora Marsden, editor of the Egoist, in manuscript chapters of Portrait.

Irish National Volunteers founded (active in 1916 Easter Rising); Lawrence, Sons and Lovers; Einstein’s Theory of Relativity; first issues of Dora Marsden’s New Freewoman (later the Egoist) Third Home Rule bill fails. “Lock-out” by Dublin employers begins against Irish Transport and General Workers’ Union.

1914

Portrait serialized in the Egoist from February 2 to September 1, 1915; begins work on Ulysses in March; begins Exiles; writes Giacomo Joyce; Dubliners published by Richards on June 15; JJ faces internment in Trieste following the outbreak of the War.

Lock-out ends in defeat for workers. Wyndham Lewis, Blast (first issue); Austrian Archduke Ferdinand and wife assassinated in Sarajevo; World War begins in August.

1915

JJ permitted to move to Zurich with his family in June, pledging neutrality to the Swiss authorities; Stanislaus interned in Austria; JJ finishes Exiles; receives £75 from British Royal Literary Fund through recommendations of Pound, Yeats, and Edmund Gosse.

Zeppelin attacks on London; Italy joins Allies; Lawrence, The Rainbow (suppressed after an obscenity trial); Ford, The Good Soldier; Blast 2 (War Number).

1916

Receives £100 grant from British Treasury Fund; Portrait and Dubliners published in New York by B. W. Huebsch

Lewis’s Tarr serialized in the Egoist; emergence of Dada in Zurich; Easter Rising in Dublin.

Suffragette riots in London; Forster, Howards End; Home Rule bill defeated in House of Lords.

xx · Chronology of Joyce’s Life

1917

Portrait published in London by Egoist Press; eight poems published in Poetry (Chicago); receives first (anonymous) gift from Harriet Shaw Weaver, eventually his chief patron; receives money in March for the manuscript of Exiles from John Quinn, a New York lawyer, who writes favorable review of Portrait in Vanity Fair in May; worsening of eye troubles followed by eye operation late in the summer and three-month recuperation in Locarno; JJ writes first three chapters of Ulysses; Weaver agrees to serialize Ulysses in the Egoist.

October Revolution in Russia; United States enters World War; Eliot, Prufrock and Other Observations.

1918

Joyces return to Zurich; JJ receives monthly stipend from Mrs. Harold McCormick; organizes the English Players who stage Oscar Wilde’s Importance of Being Earnest; argues with leading actor and enters into lawsuits; Pound sends first episodes of Ulysses to the Little Review (New York), which begins to serialize it; JJ completes draft of episode 9 by end of December 1920; Exiles published by Grant Richards in London and Huebsch in New York.

General Strike and influenza epidemic in Switzerland; Armistice signed on November 11.

1919

Five installments of Ulysses published in the Egoist; continued serialization in Little Review; US Postal Authorities burn January and May issues; subsidy withdrawn by Mrs. McCormick; JJ returns with family to Trieste in October; teaches English and continues work on Ulysses.

Irish War of Independence begins. Treaty of Versailles signed in June; National Socialist Party founded in Germany; Fascisti formed in Italy by Mussolini; Red and White armies battle in Russia; Shakespeare & Co. founded in Paris by Sylvia Beach.

1920

Meets Pound in northern Italy and, at his suggestion, moves with family to Paris; serial publication of Ulysses in the Little Review discontinued at episode 14, “Oxen of the Sun,” following the New York Society for the Prevention of Vice’s charge of pornography, prompted by “Nausicaa.”

League of Nations established; the Government of Ireland Act proposes separate parliaments for North and South; Pound, Hugh Selwyn Mauberley; Eliot, The Sacred Wood; Lewis meets and draws Joyce in Paris.

1921

The Little Review is convicted for obscenity; JJ refuses to alter Ulysses and Huebsch declines it; Sylvia Beach proposes to publish Ulysses in Paris under the imprint of Shakespeare & Co; Valery Larbaud delivers lecture on Ulysses to 250 people in Shakespeare & Co.

War reparations imposed on Germany; Fascists elected to Italian Parliament; War of Independence ends and Treaty signed between England and Ireland; Pirandello, Six Characters in Search of an Author.

1922

Receives a copy of Ulysses on his fortieth birthday, February 2, and Beach displays another copy to a crowded Shakespeare & Co; copies go on sale a week later; Valery Larbaud’s essay on Ulysses published in Nouvelle Revue Française.

Irish Free State proclaimed; Irish Civil War breaks out; Fascists’ “march on Rome” and Mussolini’s appointment as Prime Minister; Woolf, Jacob’s Room; Eliot, The Waste Land.

1923

Begins to write “Work in Progress,” eventually published as Finnegans Wake; visits England in summer.

Irish Civil War ends; Yeats wins Nobel Prize for Literature.

1924

Severe eye trouble, continuing for the rest of Joyce’s life; first fragment of “Work in Progress” published in the Transatlantic Review (Paris).

Lenin dies; Stalin comes to power; Hitler, imprisoned for nine months, writes Mein Kampf; Surrealist Manifestos.

1925

Second fragment from “Work in Progress” published in the Criterion (London); first version of “Anna Livia Plurabelle” section from “Work in Progress” published in Navire d’Argent (Paris).

Woolf, Mrs Dalloway; Yeats, A Vision; Kafka, The Trial; Eliot, “The Hollow Men”; Shaw awarded Nobel Prize for Literature.

1926

Much of Ulysses pirated serially in Two Worlds Monthly (New York).

General Strike in England; Pound, Personae (collected shorter poems); 2RN, later RTÉ, begins radio broadcasts.

1927

First of seventeen installments (by 1938) of “Work in Progress” published in transition (Paris) by Eugene Jolas; Pomes Penyeach published by Shakespeare & Co. Publication in May of Our Exagmination Round His Factification for lncamination of Work in Progress, by Samuel Beckett and eleven others.

Lewis, Time and Western Man; Woolf, To the Lighthouse.

Chronology of Joyce’s Life · xxi

1928

Anna Livia Plurabelle published in New York in book form in order to protect copyright.

1929

Ulysse, the French translation of Ulysses, published in February.

1930

Travels to Zurich to be operated on by eye specialist Alfred Vogt; Gorman begins his authorized biography, James Joyce (published 1939)

International economic collapse; Pound, A Draft of XXX Cantos; Eliot, ‘Ash Wednesday’; Lewis, The Apes of God.

1931

Joyce and Nora marry “for testamentary reasons” in London on July 4; death of John Joyce on December 29.

Woolf, The Waves.

1932

Stephen James Joyce born on February 15 to Giorgio and Helen (Kastor Fleischmann) Joyce; mental breakdown suffered by Lucia Joyce, whose deepening schizophrenia will occupy Joyce through the rest of his life.

De Valera withholds land annuities and begins “Economic War” with Britain.

1933

Ulysses judged to be not pornographic by John M. Woolsey in New York, making possible an American publication.

Hitler named chancellor of the German Reichs; Irish “Blueshirts,” or “National Guard” declared illegal.

1934

Ulysses published in New York by Random House.

Italy invades Ethiopia; meeting of Mussolini and Hitler.

1936

Ulysses published in England by Bodley Head.

Spanish Civil War.

1937

Translates Anna Livia Plurabelle into Italian with Nina Frank.

Picasso, Guernica; Stalin’s purges in Moscow; De Valera’s constitution bill approved by the Dáil and by voters in referendum.

1938

German troops enter Austria; Douglas Hyde becomes first president of Ireland.

1939

First bound copy of Finnegans Wake exhibited by Joyce on February 2 (not published officially until May by Faber in London, Viking in New York); upon declaration of war moves near Lucia’s sanitarium at St Gerand-le-Puy.

De Valera announces Irish neutrality.

1940

Forced to leave France for Zurich without Lucia in mid-December.

Fall of France; Battle of Britain.

1941

Dies of perforated ulcer on January 13, in Zurich; buried in Fluntern cemetery, Zurich.

1951

Nora Barnacle Joyce dies in Zurich.

ABBREVIATIONS Throughout the introductory essays, Ulysses is cited parenthetically, with the page number of the first edition reproduced in this volume, followed by the episode and line number of Ulysses edited by Hans Walter Gabler with Wolfhard Steppe and Claus Melchior (New York: Vintage, 1986), for example (67; 4:551). The following works are cited parenthetically using these abbreviations; citations of other works are provided in the footnotes to the essays. D

Dubliners, ed. Jeri Johnson (World’s Classics; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000)

FW

Finnegans Wake, ed. John Bishop (London: Faber; New York: Viking, 1939). Cited with page and line numbers, e.g. (FW 213:28)

G

Ulysses, ed. Hans Walter Gabler with Wolfhard Steppe and Claus Melchior (New York: Vintage, 1986); links to Gabler’s line numbers are marked in the margins of this edition

JJ

James Joyce, Richard Ellmann, revised edition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982)

JJA

James Joyce Archive, vols. xii–xxvii, ed. Michael Groden (New York: Garland Publishing, 1978)

L I, II, III

Letters of James Joyce, vol. i, ed. Stuart Gilbert (New York: Viking, 1966); vols. ii and iii, ed. Richard Ellmann (New York: Viking, 1966)

OCPW

Occasional, Critical and Political Writing, ed. Kevin Barry (World’s Classics; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000)

P

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, ed. Jeri Johnson (World’s Classics; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000)

PE

Poems and Exiles, ed. J. C. C. Mays and Seamus Deane (London: Penguin, 1992)

SH

Stephen Hero, ed. Theodore Spencer, rev. John J. Slocum and Herbert Cahoon (London: Paladin, 1991)

SL

Selected Letters of James Joyce, ed. Richard Ellmann (London: Faber, 1975)

A NOTE ON ANNOTATIONS The annotations at the foot of the facsimile pages in this volume are designed to help readers find their way through Ulysses. Those wishing to dig deeper into particular moments should refer to the copious annotations provided by Gifford, Slote, and the James Joyce Online Notes. These footnotes draw on those works and sometimes build upon them (entries on “altarlist,” “jennet” or “for the rest, let look who may,” for example). All annotators refer to a set of reference works on Joyce’s writings and general sources of information. The key works are listed here and more recommendations are to be found in the “Further Reading” section starting on p. 943. Adams, Robert M., Surface and Symbol (New York: Oxford University Press, 1962) Beale, Paul, ed., Partridge’s Dictionary of Slang (London: Routledge, 1984) Bowen, Zack, Musical Allusions in the Works of James Joyce (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1974) Bartlett, Thomas, Brendan Smith, Jane Ohlmeyer, and James Kelly, eds., The Cambridge History of Ireland, 4 volumes (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017–18) Brewer, Ebenezer C., and Ivor H. Evans, eds., Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable (New York: Harper and Row, 1981) Budgen, Frank, James Joyce and the Making of “Ulysses” (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989) The Catholic Encyclopedia (New York: Robert Appleton, 1907) Dent, R. W., Colloquial Language in “Ulysses”: A Reference Tool (Newark, DE: University of Delaware Press, 1995) Dolan, Terence Patrick, ed., A Dictionary of Hiberno-English: The Irish Use of English (Dublin: Gill & Macmillan, 2004) Ellmann, Richard, James Joyce (New York: Oxford University Press, 1982) Encyclopaedia Britannica, www.britannica.com Gifford, Don, with Robert J. Seidman, “Ulysses” Annotated: Notes for James Joyce’s “Ulysses” (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988) Gilbert, Stuart, James Joyce’s “Ulysses”: A Study (New York: Vintage, 1952) Gunn, Ian, and Clive Hart, James Joyce’s Dublin (London: Thames & Hudson, 2004) Homer, The Odyssey, trans. Richmond Lattimore (New York: Harper, 1975) Hyman, Louis, The Jews of Ireland (Shannon: Irish University Press, 1972) James Joyce Online Notes, www.jjon.org Joyce, P. W., English as We Speak It in Ireland (London: Longmans, Green, 1910) The King James Bible, www.kingjamesbibleonline.org McGuire, James, and James Quinn, eds., Dictionary of Irish Biography (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009) O’Hehir, Brendan, A Gaelic Lexicon for Finnegans Wake, and Glossary for Joyce’s Other Works (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967)

xxiv · A Note on Annotations

Opie, Iona, and Opie, Peter, eds., The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1952) Power, Arthur, and James Joyce, Conversations with James Joyce (London: Millington, 1974) The Oxford Dictionary of English Proverbs, compiled by William George Smith, revised by Sir Paul Harvey (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1948) The Oxford English Dictionary, www.oed.com Slote, Sam, Marc A. Mamigonian, and John Turner, Annotations to James Joyce’s “Ulysses” (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2022) Shakespeare, William, and W. J. Craig, The Complete Works of Shakespeare (London: Oxford University Press, 1966) Thom’s Official Directory of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland (Dublin: Thom’s, 1904) Thornton, Weldon, Allusions in “Ulysses”: An Annotated List (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1968) Wright, Joseph, ed., English Dialect Dictionary (London: Oxford University Press, 1970)

GUIDE FOR READERS

Annotations In these notes, the text of Ulysses is in bold font and the explanations are in regular. The most interesting and important of Gabler’s 1986 interventions are noted and labeled “G. corrections,” “G. inclusions,” and “G. reinsertions of displaced lines.” His inclusions, of words not present in the 1922 edition, are in Courier font.

Episode title This is the name Joyce gave the chapter in the schemas he shared with Carlo Linati and Stuart Gilbert in 1920 and 1921. These schemas link each chapter with an episode in Homer’s Odyssey.

Joyce’s errata notes See the essay at the back of this volume for an account of why and when Joyce noted these printing errors.

Facsimile of the 1922 first edition This is copy no. 876, held at the Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley.

Line-numbers of the Gabler edition Gabler’s edition is often used in scholarly works. These numbers are keyed to the starting word of each twentieth line in Gabler.

INTRODUCTION Catherine Flynn

The experience of struggling through Ulysses for the first time is something unusual in our cultural landscape where so much is consumable, bite-sized, and bingeable. Wrestling with and puzzling through Joyce’s strange book offers readers the opportunity to stretch their minds and expand their imaginations, and so to encounter who they are in dynamic ways. In this volume, an introductory essay prefaces each of the episodes of Ulysses but these can be saved to read after the novel. Ulysses’ literary allusions, as well as its foreign language phrases and historical references, are explained in the footnotes, which draw from and build upon earlier works of annotation. To produce a complete elucidation of the novel and all of its allusions and references, however, is not just impossible but undesirable, as it would put mere explanation in the place of experience and bypass the rich and suggestive ambiguities of the text. To produce a complete explanation is to take away the reason to read Ulysses in the first place. Ulysses is concerned with the experience of living in a world without answers. Its 1904 Dublin, like other European cities at the beginning of the twentieth century, is in the process of being reshaped by the growing power of commerce and new technologies of transportation, reproduction, and communication. Ulysses shows us the questions this open-ended transformation raises, as well as the promise and opportunities it offers. The weakening of the major structures and institutions that exercised such control over political and religious life in Ireland is communicated when Stephen Dedalus boldly tells an Englishman

in the first episode: “I am the servant of two masters […] And a third, Stephen said, there is who wants me for odd jobs” (20; 1:638, 641). When Haines fails to understand, “The imperial British state, Stephen answered, his colour rising, and the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church.” Stephen doesn’t name his third master. It might be Irish nationalism, his material needs, or his artistic vocation. This uncertainty, and Stephen’s own uncertainty in defining himself autonomously, is endemic to a world in transformation. Ulysses’ extraordinary power to articulate early twentieth-century experience was attested to by writers who have become known, like Joyce, as modernists. T. S. Eliot wrote of the novel as “the most important expression which this present age has found,” as a “book to which we are all indebted, and from which none of us can escape.”1 Virginia Woolf wrote of it with distaste in her diary: “an illiterate, underbred book it seems to me: the book of a self-taught working man, & we all know how distressing they are, how egotistic, insistent, raw, striking, & ultimately nauseating.”2 It might be unfair to reprint Woolf’s private reaction as she ­struggles through Joyce’s text – it risks obscuring the importance the novel had for her own attempts to find new ways to represent ­experience – but 1  T. S. Eliot, “Ulysses, Order and Myth,” in Selected Prose of T. S. Eliot, ed. Frank Kermode (London: Faber & Faber, 1975), 175. 2  Virginia Woolf, The Diary of Virginia Woolf, ed. Anne Olivier Bell (London: Hogarth Press, 1978), vol. ii, 188–89.

2 · Catherine Flynn

Woolf’s remarks express her sense of the revolutionary nature of the novel. Woolf’s labeling of Joyce as “self-taught” says less about Joyce, who in fact had a degree in modern languages, and more about Ulysses, a novel that ransacks existing literature. Eliot himself told Woolf that “The book would be a landmark, because it destroyed the whole of the nineteenth century. It left Joyce himself with nothing to write another book on. It showed up the futility of all the English styles.”3 In this aspect of the novel’s composition, Joyce was an Irishman repurposing the culture of the master and using it to give expression to other kinds of experience. This approach answers a problem Stephen identified in Joyce’s earlier novel, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man; after his conversation with the Dean of Studies at University College Dublin, Stephen connects the English language to English dominion over Ireland: “How different are the words home, Christ, ale, master, on his lips and on mine! I cannot speak or write these words without unrest of spirit. His language, so familiar and so foreign, will always be for me an acquired speech. I have not made or accepted its words” (P 159). In Ulysses, Joyce takes hold of what was an ornament and tool of the British elite and turns it to new use. Because of this, identifying the sources of Ulysses’ literary allusions doesn’t answer the more important question that they raise: in the context of Ulysses, what new role do these fragments play? An example of this Ulyssean reappropriation is Stephen’s reference to Shakespeare’s Hamlet in a conversation in a back room of the National Library. Stephen intends to make an impression on the Dublin literati he talks with, but not one of simple erudition. Instead he makes creative use of a few details of the play – Hamlet’s dead father, King Hamlet, returning as a ghost to speak to him – and some scraps of biographical information – that Shakespeare left his second-best bed to his wife and that they had a son called Hamnet – to devise a story of a son who creates his own father. The men are skeptical. “Do I believe this?” Stephen even asks himself, but this isn’t the point. Shakespeare is 3  Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary (London: Hogarth Press, 1965), 50–51.

not a badge of learning for Stephen but a tool for self-authorship. Allusion does the work not of cultural authority, but rather of invention, exploration, and questioning. Joyce wrote to the French writer Valery Larbaud that the reader “will know early in the book that S.D.’s mind is full like everyone else’s of borrowed words” (L I 263). A student and aspiring writer, Stephen is more literary than most, but his intellectual baggage is an exaggerated version of something that we all experience. We each have heads not just of what we have read but, like Stephen, of what we have heard. We think with these borrowed words. Joyce’s characters display different attitudes about this. Stephen feels overwhelmed: “Dead breaths I living breathe,” he thinks desperately as he walks alone on Sandymount Strand (49; 3:479). The older and cannier Leopold Bloom observes: “Never know whose thoughts you’re chewing” (162; 8:717–18). His wife Molly Bloom is able to enjoy this influx of language: “it fills up your whole day and life always something to think about every moment and see it all around you like a new world” (709; 18:738–39). Joyce developed a narrative mode called the interior monologue or stream of consciousness to display this passing of thoughts through his characters’ minds. Following the quick turns of their associations, memories, and realizations, Ulysses shows different kinds of words competing for attention, status, power. As we see characters become aware of and reflect on these words, Ulysses trains us critically, prompting us to consider the language that passes through our own minds. Another revolutionary aspect of Ulysses occurs at a larger scale: Joyce’s reimagining of the novel as a genre. In Ulysses, the usual features that move us through novels – plot, character, narrative voice – are dismantled. This is not a book that carries readers along from inciting incident to conclusion with a story in which they can lose themselves. There is no omniscient narrator telling readers what they need to know. Instead, Ulysses constantly reinvents itself, speaking to us in different voices and ­different forms. This is perhaps Joyce’s answer to the huge ambition that Stephen declared at the close of A Portrait: “to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race” (P 213). In Ulysses, Stephen has returned

Introduction · 3

from an anticlimactic exile in Paris, and the limits and compromises of his renewed existence in Dublin rankle with him as he struggles to define himself. The key terms of his earlier declaration – soul, conscience, race – resist definition. In Ulysses, Joyce presents a ­ formal realization of Stephen’s earlier ambition with a novel that takes many shapes – to list just a few: the aforementioned stream of consciousness and the parodies of different eras of English prose, and also, a narrative that merges with music, a pastiche of sentimental Victorian novels and ladies’ magazines, a stageplay with hallucinatory visions, a sequence of quasi-­scientific questions and answers, and so on. Through this constant shifting the novel requires us to interact with it, to make sense of it, and to reflect on our own ideas as we do so. In this way, Ulysses gives us the sense that we and the world can be represented and remade in new and vibrant ways. Grappling with the novel’s challenges, the reader is pushed toward one of the most important rewards of reading Ulysses: thinking independently. With its constant shifting of form, Ulysses assaults tradition in a third way: by rethinking what it is to be a person. We see this most centrally in the figure of Bloom. About eight chapters into the composition of Ulysses, Joyce received a request for more material on Stephen but he told his friend, the artist Frank Budgen, “Stephen no longer interests me to the same extent. He has a shape that can’t be changed.”4 Bloom is Stephen’s opposite in many ways: middle-aged rather than young, an advertising agent rather than university graduate, practical rather than intellectual, sensual rather than spiritual, husband and father, and indeed cat owner, rather than bachelor. Most crucially, Bloom is flexible rather than intransigent. One sign of his adaptability is the number of names by which Ulysses refers to him. While Stephen Dedalus is almost always called Stephen and Leopold Bloom most frequently called Bloom, he also appears as Poldy, Henry Flower, Leopoldo, greasabloom, Bloo, Bloowho, Bloowhose, Bloohimwhom, Lionelleopold, Seabloom, Luitpold Blumen­ duft, Bloom Elijah, old man Leo, and so on. His

many names suggest that identity is not fixed but fluid, a work in progress that responds to changing circumstances. Bloom differs from usual fictional protagonists who take defining action in response to situations of conflict. The central conflict in Ulysses is that, on this day, for the first time, Molly will take Hugh “Blazes” Boylan as her lover, in the Blooms’ marital bed, no less. Boylan is an embodiment of conventional masculine ideals: rich, handsome, and ­commanding, with a successful business organizing ­concerts and publicity. He is roguishly flirtatious, sexually experienced, and ready to take action. Although Bloom does many things over the course of the day (ranging from buying a kidney for breakfast, to helping an acquaintance’s widow with her insurance claim, to rescuing Stephen from soldiers and police), his lack of action regarding Molly and Blazes opens up new possibilities. Joyce said that he valued the Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen because he was concerned with “the emancipation of women, which has caused the greatest revolution in our time in the most important relationship there is – that between men and women; the revolt of women against the idea that they are the mere instruments of men.”5 This transformation was a slow shift away from the traditional asymmetrical relationship in which husbands assumed command of their wives and, supported by the law, possession of their bodies. Molly and Bloom’s relationship lacks the former mutually defining roles. Accordingly, it raises questions. What is a man? What is a woman? Although Bloom distracts himself – “Today. Today. Not think” (172; 8:1063) – over the course of the day, he reflects on Molly and Boylan’s liaison as possibility, future prospect, present reality, and accomplished deed. His reflections reach into all aspects of the situation, allowing him to explore, to feel, to desire, and to imagine. He wonders about Molly, “Why did she me?” (264; 11:732) and “But how? She must. Keep young” (268; 11:875). In this empathetic and generous way, he understands sexual activity as vital to the flourishing of all women: “If not what becomes of them? Decline, despair. Keeps them young” (273;

4  Frank Budgen, James Joyce and the Making of “Ulysses” (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1960), 107.

5  Arthur Power, Conversations with James Joyce (Dublin: Lilliput Press, 1999), 47.

4 · Catherine Flynn

11:1087). Bloom’s thoughts about the affair are shadowed by the fact that he and Molly have not had full sexual intercourse in the ten years since the death of their son, Rudy, eleven days after his birth. Bloom wonders about his life, “I was happier then. Or was that I? Or am I now I?” (160; 8:608), and about whether he will have another son, “No son. Rudy. Too late now. Or if not? If not? If still?” (273; 11:1067). Through this non-possessive and open-­ ended thinking, Bloom is creative. He speculates about the world, often in amusing ways: “Or who was it used to eat the scruff off his own head? Cheapest lunch in town” (167; 8:872–73); “Wouldn’t mind being a waiter in a swell hotel. Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies. May I tempt you to a little more filleted lemon sole, miss Dubedat? Yes, do bedad. And she did bedad. Huguenot name I expect that” (167; 8:887–90). He wonders about parallax, and the posteriors of Greek statues. He also imagines the experiences of people he sees. Looking at a beggar boy inhaling the fumes from Harrison’s bakery, he thinks: “Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way. Pleasure or pain is it?” (150; 8:236–37). Noticing a woman look critically at the shabby dress of a friend, he thinks: “See the eye that woman gave her, passing. Cruel. The unfair sex” (151; 8:269). Lenehan, who usually occupies himself with mocking and wise-cracking, has something surprisingly insightful to say about Bloom: “He’s a cultured allroundman, Bloom is, he said seriously. He’s not one of your common or g ­ arden … you know … There’s a touch of the artist about old Bloom” (225; 10:581–83). Bloom’s unconventional artistry is related to his sympathetic imagination and to his ability to see beauty in everyday life, despite its demands and indignities. This ability goes far beyond Lenehan’s awareness. We are privy to Bloom’s pleasure in the outhouse, “No, just right. So. Ah!” (66; 4:510), a pleasure that is developed in unconventional ways later in the novel. Molly somewhat humorously complains about: “his mad crazy letters my Precious one everything connected with your glorious Body everything underlined that comes from it is a thing of beauty and of joy for ever something he got out of some nonsensical book” (721; 18:1176–78). The nonsensical book is Romantic poet John

Keats’s 1818 poem Endymion which begins: “A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: its loveliness increases.” Bloom uses Keats’s phrase to refer to Molly’s farts and excretions, transient and unlovely in any conventional sense. Bloom’s exploration of nonstandard erotic pleasures led to the banning of Ulysses for obscenity. The passage for which the novel was banned was relatively mild. It appeared in the July–August 1920 issue of the Little Review, an American journal which had been publishing excerpts of the manuscript since 1918. Following a complaint by the secretary of the New York Society for the Prevention of Vice, a panel of three judges ruled that the novel was obscene according to the Hicklin test: it had the tendency “to deprave and corrupt those whose minds are open to such immoral influences.”6 In the passage which alarmed the Society, a young woman called Gerty MacDowell leans back to watch fireworks, displaying her underwear, while Bloom masturbates. It was all the more provocative to early readers as Gerty is decked out in blue and white, the colors of the Virgin Mary, connecting her exhibitionism with the Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament taking place in the nearby Church. Gerty is an otherwise respectable single woman, described as “in very truth as fair a specimen of winsome Irish girlhood as one could wish to see” (333; 13:80–81). This is an encounter alien to the standard novelistic marriage plot; two strangers express desire, achieve satisfaction, and move on, albeit with some self-recrimination: “What a brute he had been. At it again?” Bloom asks himself (350; 13:745–46). The scene reveals his creative erotic interests: rather than standard sexual intercourse, such as Boylan engages in with Molly, this encounter at a distance involves underwear, role-play, and projection. Ulysses was effectively banned in the United States after the 1921 ruling. It was published by Sylvia Beach’s publishing house, Shakespeare and Company in Paris, where it fitted into a tradition of high literature that flouted conventional morals. The final book contains scenes that are far more extreme. However, in 1932 when Random House brought a case 6  https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Regina_v._Hicklin. Accessed December 10, 2020.

Introduction · 5

to test what was, by then, a ban only in name in the United States, District Judge John M. Woolsey celebrated Joyce’s project: “In writing ‘Ulysses,’ Joyce sought to make a serious experiment in a new, if not wholly novel, literary genre. He takes persons of the lower middle class living in Dublin in 1904 and seeks, not only to describe what they did on a certain day early in June of that year as they went about the city bent on their usual occupations, but also to tell what many of them thought about the while.”7 Woolsey observed that in representing honestly the thoughts, sensations and memories of characters, the stream of consciousness achieved an effect like a “multiple exposure in a cinema film,” which led to the novel’s difficulty for readers. In a famous formulation, Woolsey ruled that “whilst in many places the effect of ‘Ulysses’ on the reader undoubtedly is somewhat emetic, nowhere does it tend to be an aphrodisiac.” In its frankness, Ulysses shows the relationship of experience – physical, sexual, material – to the fundamental structures of society. Molly’s soliloquy was criticized in the 1933 trial for its sexual explicitness and obscene language, yet her description of Boylan’s “tremendous big red brute of a thing” and her account of the “determined vicious look in his eye” give us a candid image of a woman’s experience of a certain kind of heterosexuality. Perhaps the most shocking scenes in the novel involve Bloom’s hallucinatory encounters in Dublin’s red-light district, where he adopts the position of a prostitute and engages in sadomasochistic gender play with a brothel keeper. The sexual extremes in these scenes not only reflect the subjugation of women in Nighttown but also point to power dynamics and exploitative relations in “respectable” everyday society. Joyce gave this novel about the pressures, dangers, and pleasures of 1904 Dublin the Latin name of Homer’s hero Odysseus, the warrior king who struggles to return home ­after the ten-year Trojan War. Naming Ulysses after the Odyssey, one of the greatest adventures of antiquity and a foundational text of Western literature, signals that it participates 7  https://law.justia.com/cases/federal/district-courts/ FSupp/5/182/2250768/. Accessed December 10, 2020.

in a ­ noble lineage of texts that reinterpret Homer’s Bronze Age epic, including Milton’s Paradise Lost, Dante’s Divine Comedy, and Virgil’s Aeneid. Joyce’s novel, however, takes a very different form. An epic is a long narrative poem that deals with a nationally or historically foundational moment. Its typical hero is a man of high social status, representative of the values of his society and capable of heroic deeds. As Mikhail Bakhtin writes, “The world of the epic is the national heroic past: it is a world of ‘beginnings’ and ‘peak times’ in the national history, a world of fathers and founders of families, a world of ‘firsts’ and ‘bests.’”8 Joyce’s Ulysses, however, is a novel, set on a relatively unremarkable day in the contemporary world; crucially, Joyce recasts the warrior king as an ordinary person. Bloom’s valor and courage play out in a modest middle-class setting. Most importantly, the son of a Hungarian Jewish immigrant who committed suicide, Bloom is seen as an outsider by other Dublin men. He is a poor fit for their ways of socializing, wary of their songs of political oppression, and vulnerable to their gossip. His careful ways earn their scorn and suspicion. Most crucially, while Homer’s Odysseus takes back his home with violence, putting to death the 108 Ithacan lords who tested his wife’s faithfulness and ate up his fortune, Bloom is gentle. Returning to 7 Eccles Street late at night, he contemplates possible responses, while dealing with the conflicting emotions of “Envy, jealousy, abnegation, equanimity” (684; 17:2155). At a general level, the Homeric parallel suggests that the city is a dangerous environment that must be navigated with skill in order to regain safety and security. Joyce also drew on features from particular episodes in Odysseus’s adventures to structure individual chapters, which were accordingly called “episodes” by Joyce: the concerned son Telemachus, the lessthan-helpful elder Nestor, the shape-shifting god Proteus, the captivating nymph Calypso, the intoxicated Lotus Eaters, the underworld Hades, the changeable wind-god Aeolus, the giant man-eating Lestrygonians, the (again) 8  Mikhail Bakhtin, “Epic and Novel,” in The Dialogic Imagination, ed. Michael Holquist (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1984), 13.

6 · Catherine Flynn

man-eating monsters Scylla and Charybdis, the ship-wrecking wandering rocks, the melodiously seductive and (again) man-eating Sirens, the (yet again) man-eating Cyclops, the helpful princess Nausicaa, the undead Oxen of the Sun God, the goddess-witch Circe who turns men into animals, the loyal swineherd Eumaeus, and Ithaca, Odysseus’s home kingdom where his wife Penelope awaits him. Joyce stopped short of including the Homeric titles in Ulysses, although he made diagrams of the relation of Ulysses to the Odyssey. These “schemata” follow this introduction, along with Joyce’s own description of his interest in Homer. Joyce later regretted making the Homeric parallels explicit, as they dominated the early reception of the book. T. S. Eliot celebrated Joyce’s “mythic method” as a way of imposing order on a chaotic world.9 Ezra Pound echoed Eliot, but in a negative mood: the Homeric parallels in his opinion are “mere mechanics, any blockhead can go back and trace them. Joyce had to have a shape on which to order his chaos.”10 Yet, what Eliot and Pound describe as chaos is a world ridding itself of traditional hierarchies and forms of rule. As Joyce resituates the elements of the epic in the evolving world of the early twentieth century, the reimagined elements of Homer’s myth do not provide order or answers for readers of Ulysses, but raise questions. 11 What do Odysseus’s “wisdom and courage,” his famous polytropos, many turns, a word Homer repeatedly uses to describe him, look like in the modern city?12 In contrast to the Homeric world of gods and warrior heroes, Joyce’s Ulysses is an epic in which everyday life is dignified and celebrated. He wrote that it is “at the same time the cycle of the human body as well as a little story of a day (life)” (L I 146–47). Thus, while Stephen might articulate

 9  T. S. Eliot, “Ulysses, Order, and Myth.” 10  Ezra Pound, James Joyce, and Forrest Read, Pound/ Joyce: The Letters of Ezra Pound to James Joyce, with Pound’s Essays On Joyce (London: Faber, 1967), 250. 11  Reading the Odyssey is recommended but not necessary: in the introductory essays that follow, the contributors point out many of the Homeric references in the episodes and consider their significance. 12  Budgen, James Joyce, 16–17.

many of the intellectual and artistic challenges Joyce faced, the less intellectual and somewhat bumbling Bloom is his central hero, a character whose deep, sensual interest in experience opens up new dimensions of insight. As we ponder these issues over the course of Ulysses, we are ourselves on a difficult journey that parallels that of the characters. Knowing that Ulysses reworks some of the structural elements of the epic helps us tackle the text. It begins, for example, in Homeric fashion, in medias res, in the middle of things. Buck Mulligan’s parody of the Catholic mass in the opening scene is a reinvention of the invocation of the Muses that traditionally began epic poems. Bloom’s journey to Glasnevin Cemetery in “Hades” is a ­version of the katabasis, the descent into the underworld to gain wisdom about the journey ahead. Joyce has fun with the convention of the epic catalogue, producing long lists that defy their own logic and feature increasingly unlikely and amusing elements. He also makes free with the convention of the epic digression; if Homer sometimes pauses to provide explanatory backstory to his heroes’ experiences, Joyce’s novel suggests that much of life is digression. Immersing himself in the details of the moment and reflecting on the questions that they raise, Bloom is a model for the reader of Ulysses. As Bloom processes everything that he encounters, he takes pleasure whenever possible. The reader can find pleasure in the ­acoustic qualities of the prose, in the sudden appearance, for example, of a beautiful description of the night sky: “The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit” (651; 17:1039). The sensual pleasures of the prose can coincide with its realistic precision and humor. Take, for example, the blonde and red-haired barmaids in the “Sirens” episode, who get a fit of the giggles when they make sly fun of an old man who has ogled them: “Shrill, with deep laughter, after bronze in gold, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing in changes, bronzegold goldbronze, shrilldeep, to laughter after laughter. And then laughed more. Greasy I knows. Exhausted, breathless their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the counterledge. All flushed (O!), panting, sweating (O!), all breathless” (249; 11:174–79). Perhaps most pleasurable of all is

Introduction · 7

the novel’s democratic urge to give everything a voice; as Bloom observes when listening to a printing press in “Aeolus”: “Sllt. Almost human the way it sllt to call attention. Doing its level best to speak. That door too sllt creaking, asking to be shut. Everything speaks in its own way. Sllt” (117; 7:175–77). One of the key challenges facing the reader is that Joyce presents Dublin as the Dubliners of 1904 experience it. We are repeatedly thrust into the middle of things without any of the orientation a more conventional novel would provide. Joyce conveys the characters’ lived and living sense of Dublin through a fine-grained and indirect evocation rather than the bird’s eye view that might seem, misleadingly, objective. Frank Budgen, the English artist who became Joyce’s friend in Zurich, presents us with a Joyce who is deeply invested in a realistic depiction of the city: “‘I want,’ said Joyce, as we were walking down the Universitätstrasse, ‘to give a picture of Dublin so complete that if the city one day suddenly disappeared from the earth it could be reconstructed out of my book.’”13 Joyce and Budgen both took refuge in neutral Switzerland during the First World War, at a time when such destruction was newly imaginable; furthermore, by the time of Joyce’s conversation with Budgen, the center of Dublin had been heavily damaged in the Easter Rising of 1916.14 Joyce indeed displays an unprecedented faithfulness to the streetscape of 1904 Dublin in Ulysses. Reputedly, he could recite the sequence of shops along certain streets, and we see this exactitude in his representation of events. In depicting the trajectories of various Dubliners in the “Wandering Rocks” episode, he used a map and a stopwatch. We have to be careful, however, not to take Joyce’s words to Budgen literally.15 Most 13  Budgen, James Joyce, 69. 14  See Paul Saint-Amour, Tense Future: Modernism, Total War, Encyclopedic Form (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). 15  Critics have also pointed out discrepancies in the schemata; see Don Gifford and Robert J. Seidman, “Ulysses” Annotated (1988; Berkeley: University of California Press, 2008) and Ian Gunn and Clive Hart, James Joyce’s Dublin: A Topographical Guide to the Dublin of Ulysses (New York: Thames & Hudson, 2004).

­ bviously, there is much that he must leave out in o Ulysses. As a novel rather than a set of b ­ lueprints, Ulysses cannot function as a ­straightforward record. Furthermore, as Stephen’s c­onversation with the Dean of Studies shows, Joyce did not take the English language to be a transparent medium. Ulysses tackles the challenge of the self-articulation of a colonized country. Language is not the only obstacle to Joyce’s attempt to meet this challenge. The Dublin of 1904, like many cities, is not simply a collection of streets and buildings but a locus dense with rival acts of definition. These architectural, linguistic, and historiographical superimpositions, often registering only vaguely in the consciousnesses of its characters, are another reason why Ulysses is so difficult for the reader. Two journeys across Dublin in Ulysses allow us to understand some of the historical events that are recalled repeatedly in the novel and that shape its cityscape. These journeys are represented from different perspectives and at different scales: in “Hades,” Bloom travels with three other men in a hired funeral coach from the modest home in Sandymount of the deceased Paddy Dignam to Glasnevin Cemetery in the northern outskirts of the city (see Map 6); and, in “Wandering Rocks,” the viceroy, King Edward VII’s representative in Ireland, processes from the Viceregal Lodge in Phoenix Park in the west of the city to the Royal Dublin Society showgrounds in the affluent, southeastern neighborhood of Ballsbridge to open the Mirus Bazaar (see Map 10). Joyce deliberately altered the facts, shifting the Mirus Bazaar from May 31 to June 16 and providing the viceroy with a retinue in order to turn an unremarkable journey across the city into a display of colonial pomp. He represents the cavalcade at several moments in “Wandering Rocks,” an episode of nineteen vignettes ­ ­ situated at different places around the city, and the array of responses suggests the variety of Dublin political attitudes. In the final vignette, the viceroy is greeted by the “credulous smile” of an elderly woman (242; 10:1195). The possibility that rebellious attitudes might be concealed behind such respectful gestures is illustrated by Stephen’s father, Simon Dedalus, who brings “his hat low” and finds his salutation “graciously returned,” although he is emerging

8 · Catherine Flynn

from a public urinal and is, in fact, a fervent nationalist (242; 10:1201).16 In a different kind of rebellion, Boylan flirts brazenly with the women in the retinue, “offer[ing] to the three ladies the bold admiration of his eyes and the red flower between his lips” (243; 10:1245–46). The city itself responds with a loyalty rendered ambivalent by pollution: “Poddle river hung out in fealty a tongue of liquid sewage” (242; 10:1196–97). The episode closes with the inscrutable rear end of a Dubliner of foreign descent: “the salute of Almidano Artifoni’s sturdy trousers swallowed by a closing door” (244; 10:1281–82). An earlier response to the viceroy in “Wandering Rocks” gives us a sense of the contradictory ways history can be present in the minds of Dubliners: Thomas Kernan, teaseller, alcoholic, and member of the Protestant Church of Ireland, celebrates both current English rule and the leaders of eighteenthcentury rebellions. In the hope of catching a glimpse of the viceroy, who has already passed down the quay, he rushes eagerly down Watling Street. Just beforehand, he thinks sympathetically of rebels: “Down there Emmet was hanged, drawn and quartered. Greasy black rope. Dogs licking the blood off the street when the lord lieutenant’s wife drove by in her noddy” (230–31; 10:764–66). Even more elliptically, he thinks: “Somewhere here Lord Edward Fitzgerald escaped from major Sirr. Stables behind Moira house” (231; 10:785–86). Lord Edward Fitzgerald and Robert Emmet were both leaders, with Wolfe Tone, of the Society of United Irishmen, which was influenced by the egalitarian and fraternal values of the French Revolution. A multi-­ denominational group of Irishmen, they opposed the exclusion from the Irish Parliament of all but a tiny group of Church of Ireland families who had formed the political, professional, and social

16  His passionate support for Charles Stewart Parnell is communicated in his declaration that the ghost of Parnell would torment David Sheehy (1844–1932), who defeated Parnell’s brother in a local election in 1903: “Simon Dedalus said when they put him in parliament that Parnell would come back from the grave and lead him out of the House of Commons by the arm” (157; 8:517–19).

elite known as the Protestant Ascendency. The United Irishmen rebelled in 1798, and again in 1803, but were violently suppressed. The Irish Parliament was subsequently persuaded to vote for its own dissolution in the Act of Union, many of the parliamentarians enticed by promises of titles and peerages. Once Ireland was ruled from Westminster, the majority of the ruling class departed for London and Dublin’s economy collapsed. In 1904, Kernan is a shabby genteel leftover of the Ascendency. He proudly wears a secondhand coat he believes was worn by a “Kildare Street toff.” The republican values of 1798 and 1803 do not feature in his thoughts; instead, he celebrates Fitzgerald’s aristocratic status, “Fine dashing young nobleman. Good stock, of course.” Kernan never expresses such sentiments publicly; we can only find them in the quick turns of his thoughts. He illustrates the complex and contested world of the novel and individuals’ struggles to find status in changing times. The past hangs over the viceroy too: the cavalcade is shadowed by a double murder at the Viceregal Lodge some twenty years before, an event described with enthusiasm, and some inaccuracy, by newspaper editor Myles Crawford in the “Aeolus” episode. In 1882, the Invincibles gang targeted the Queen’s most senior civil servant in Ireland, Permanent Undersecretary Thomas Henry Burke, but they also stabbed to death Lord Frederick Cavendish, who had just been appointed Chief Secretary for Ireland. Some of the gang members escaped and were rumored to be living in Dublin. In “Eumaeus,” Bloom and Stephen visit a cabman’s shelter run by a man who is thought to be the driver of the Invincibles’ get-away vehicle. When a returned sailor drinking next to them talks enthusiastically of cold steel and the Invincibles’ knives, Bloom and Stephen look guardedly at the ­shelter keeper’s “inscrutable face,” which the garrulous narrator describes as “really a work of art, a perfect study in itself, beggaring description, conveyed the impression that he didn’t understand one jot of what was going on. Funny, very” (584; 16:598–600). History thus presents itself opaquely even to the Dubliners of 1904. The cavalcade passes by the impressive Palladian architecture through which the

Introduction · 9

Protestant Ascendancy expressed its power: the Four Courts, Grattan Bridge (named after Henry Grattan, who won full legislative independence for the Irish Parliament in 1782), Trinity College, educational institution for the Protestant elite, and the Houses of Parliament that following the Act of Union housed the Bank of Ireland. What is now known as Georgian Dublin was constructed in a massive program of urban redevelopment in the eighteenth century, funded by wealth extracted from a countryside farmed mainly by disenfranchised Catholic tenants.17 This program was led by the Duke of Ormond, whose name was given to one of the Liffey quays and the restaurantbar where Bloom hears Simon Dedalus sing in “Sirens.” The Wide Streets Commission reshaped the center of the city, demolishing tight medieval streets to establish impressive avenues, along some of which Bloom walks in the “Lestrygonians” episode: Sackville Street (now O’Connell Street), Westmoreland Street, College Street (the location of Trinity and the Bank of Ireland), and Kildare Street. Sackville Street features in the ­contrasting journey Bloom takes across Dublin to Glasnevin Cemetery, a journey which features traces of a different set of political contestations. The funeral coach travels from Sandymount through the impoverished neighborhood of Irishtown (named after a fifteenth-century settlement outside the walls of the English-held Pale), before finding its way to the center of the city and traveling north up Sackville Street. At the southern end of the street, the coach passes by a monument to Daniel O’Connell, after whom the street is now named. A wealthy Catholic landowner, O’Connell worked with the Catholic Church to organize peaceful mass demonstrations to campaign for the repeal of the Act of Union and for the extension of Catholics’ voting and property rights, as well as for their right to sit as elected officials in Westminster. The massive scale of these “monster meetings” of up to a million people is suggested by the narrator’s description of the “hugecloaked Liberator’s form” (90; 6:249).

O’Connell’s campaign was ended in 1843 by his refusal of violent confrontation with military forces, his imprisonment on charges of conspiracy, subsequently dropped, and the Great Famine, which decimated the Irish population. Bloom notes the poignant beginnings of a memorial to another failed Irish leader at the northern end of Sackville Street: “Foundation stone for Parnell. Breakdown. Heart” (92; 6:320). Charles Stewart Parnell skillfully manipulated parliamentary procedure in the hung Westminster parliament of 1885–89 to push Home Rule to the top of Prime Minister William Gladstone’s agenda. His parliamentary agitation led to a number of Land Acts that reformed the Irish land system, banning exorbitant rents and unfair evictions as well as making loans available to tenants to buy their farms from landlords. In 1889, however, at the brink of Home Rule legislation, the estranged husband of Katharine “Kitty” O’Shea filed for divorce, making public the fact that Parnell had lived with Katharine and fathered three of her children. Amid public outcry, driven largely by the Catholic and Anglican Churches, Gladstone was forced to repudiate Parnell, whose Irish Parliamentary Party split and was subsequently crippled. This failure and Parnell’s death two years later, at the age of forty-five, are signaled by the sorrowful words that Bloom associates with the monument and symbolized by its interrupted beginnings. Bloom’s elliptical thought, “Breakdown. Heart”, refers to both the end of Parnell’s life and the collapse of a political movement. Towering over Sackville Street in 1904 was the 120-foot tall Nelson’s Pillar, erected in 1805 to celebrate Admiral Nelson’s defeat of Napoleon in the Battle of Trafalgar. Bloom registers its role as a tourist attraction as he hears the hawkers cry: “Eight plums a penny!”18 He notes the underdevelopment of the east side of the street and thinks of the poor people, “chummies and slaveys,” chimney sweeps’ boys and maids of all work, who walk under the statue of Father Theobald Mathew, the founder of an abstinence society in the nineteenth ­century

17  This period spanned approximately from the beginning of the reign of George I in 1714 to the death of George IV in 1830.

18  Stephen is staying in one of several Martello towers constructed along the Dublin coast to ward against invasion by Napoleon by sea.

10 · Catherine Flynn

(92; 6:319). Moving northward through the city, the carriage passes through areas that were cast into poverty after the Act of Union, with tenements in the former palatial homes of the Ascendency. We glimpse these tenements several times in Ulysses: “Circe” takes place in Monto, the destitute red-light district around Mabbot Street (now James Joyce Street). Kitty Ricketts, who works in Bella Cohen’s brothel, names Constitution Hill as the place of her undoing, a street in the once highly fashionable Henrietta Street area. In Glasnevin Cemetery, Bloom ponders the dead, both the great and the obscure. He is saved from the past by his characteristic immersion in the visceral experience of living, as his thoughts turn to “Warm beds: warm fullblooded life” (110; 6:1005). Stephen offers a powerful account of the weight of history on the present. In a conversation with the headmaster of a private school that reprises his exchange with the Dean of Studies in A Portrait, he considers the long history of sectarian violence in Ireland. Deasy calls Stephen a Fenian, referring to radical republicans and members of the secret society, the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB), that arose in the 1850s after the Famine. Abandoning the parliamentary means advocated by Parnell and O’Connell, the IRB mounted the failed 1867 Rising. Deasy, partly modeled on the Ulster Scot headmaster for whom Joyce worked in early 1904, praises the Protestant Unionist Orange Lodges that were established in the North of Ireland in the 1790s. “You Fenians forget some things,” he d ­ eclares. But Stephen thinks of murders ­ committed by members of the lodges, “The lodge of Diamond in Armagh the splendid behung with corpses of ­papishes” (31; 2:273–74); he thinks of the repression of Catholics that followed the victory of the Protestant William III over the Catholic James II at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690, the sequence of plantations and penal laws that ­ completed the colonization of Ireland begun under Elizabeth I. History, Stephen remarks, “is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake” (34; 2:377). While teaching the schoolboys, Stephen ponders Aristotle’s concept of potential being and thinks of historical figures as enslaved by time: “Time has branded them and fettered

they are lodged in the room of the infinite possibilities they have ousted. But can those have been possible seeing that they never were? Or was that only possible which came to pass? Weave, weaver of the wind” (25; 2:49–53). We might consider Ulysses’ unusual and challenging narrative forms as the novel’s attempts to “weave” such unrealized potential. The “Cyclops” episode’s key figure is the citizen, a zealous nationalist, who details atrocities of English rule and calls for an Ireland purged of all but those of Gaelic descent. Yet, the account of events in the pub where the citizen holds forth is interrupted by parodic passages. In contrast to the citizen’s simple sense of Irish identity, these hyperbolic images of ancient Irish nobility often feature a blending of races. When the narrator describes the citizen as a fiercely militant Irishman, a parody breaks in with a gallery of Irish heroes that stretches from nineteenth-century Irish rebels, to High Kings of Ireland, to mythical Celtic heroes and on to figures as far-flung as Christopher Columbus and the Queen of Sheba. If the citizen describes a history of loss, the parodies picture a time of superabundance and improbable possibilities and in doing so open up new meanings for Irishness. These parodies are part of Joyce’s response to the Celtic past detailed by later nineteenthcentury (often Anglo-Irish) antiquarians. This reconstructed Gaelic heritage of Neolithic and megalithic settlements and ancient mythology was used to foster a new Irish consciousness and national identity, one that opposed Ireland’s more recent history of oppression and privation with impressive archaeological constructions and ancient lore of kings, supernatural heroes, and godlike beings. The Celtic Revival spurred the establishment of the Gaelic League by Douglas Hyde to revive the Irish language, and of the Gaelic Athletic Association by Michael Cusack, on whom the citizen is partly modeled. It also prompted the Irish Literary Revival by W. B. Yeats, Lady Augusta Gregory, and Edward Martyn, who published collections of folklore and founded the Irish Literary Theatre. Yet the main characters in Ulysses are outside these movements. In his conversation in the National Library, Stephen notices his exclusion from the ­coterie

Introduction · 11

around W. B. Yeats, from A. E.’s “sheaf of our younger poets’ verses” and from the gathering at George Moore’s (184; 9:291, 277). Molly, the daughter of a major in the British army, is passed over by St Theresa’s concert hall in favor of singers who cater to a nationalist audience. The idealized Irish past offers tools to the ethnic-nationalist citizen to exclude Bloom, a non-Gaelic Irish person.19 Bloom, like Stephen, is not opposed to Irish sovereignty. In “Cyclops,” he is even rumored to have offered ideas to Sinn Féin’s founder, Arthur Griffith, on non-violent subversive strategies, ideas based on the successful tactics Hungarians used against Austrian rule. Bloom’s new Irish nation would be based not on the assertion of an ancient Gaelic heritage but on contemporary invention and international influence. Joyce himself took lessons in Irish while a student at UCD, taught by Padraic Pearse, who would go on to lead the violently suppressed 1916 Rising that he explicitly framed in terms of the martyrlike death of Cuchulain, the warrior of the mythological Ulster Cycle. Budgen reports that Joyce told him that “he couldn’t stand Pearse’s continual mockery of the English language.”20 Joyce failed to devote the same attention to Irish that he did to French, German, Italian, and DanoNorwegian. He attests to the international context of Ulysses by closing his novel with the names of the three cities where he composed it. Joyce began Ulysses in the Austro-Hungarian port town of Trieste, continued it during the 19  The citizen’s focus on ethnicity overlooks that some of the texts in the mythological cycles depict waves of settlement in ancient Ireland; in the Lebor Gabála Érenn (The Book of Invasions), for example, the first settlers of Ireland are led by Cessair, grandson of Noah. 20  Budgen, James Joyce, 359.

First World War in Zurich, and finished it, almost doubling its volume, in Paris. When Joyce met Yeats before embarking for his first period in Paris in 1902, he declared an ambition to give expression to experience. He modeled this ambition on that of the French poet Charles Baudelaire, who attempted to devise a new poetic prose to capture experience in the modern city. Ulysses was launched in Paris, to a readership with little to no knowledge of Irish history. The Parisians celebrated the book; Joyce reported with pride the response of Larbaud: “The book, he said, is as ‘great and comprehensive and human as Rabelais.’ Mr Bloom is ‘as immortal as Falstaff’” ( JJ 499). Joyce displayed what looks like an egotistical desire for fame when he refused to share his explanations for the novel with the French translator Jacques Benoîst-Méchin, writing “if I gave it all up immediately, I’d lose my immortality. I’ve put in so many enigmas and puzzles that it will keep the professors busy for centuries arguing over what I meant, and that’s the only way of insuring one’s immortality” ( JJ 521). However, he intended the book not primarily for scholars and literati but for ordinary people. Principally, he wrote it for Nora Barnacle, setting it on June 16, 1904, the day they first went out together. Nora was not an educated woman, but a person of independence and taste, capable of leaving her native Galway to live alone in the capital city, of eloping with a struggling writer in 1904, and of being friends with aristocrats. Yet Nora was not the only intended reader for Joyce’s overturning of literature. Leaving his apartment to celebrate the publication of Ulysses with Sylvia Beach’s Shakespeare and Company, Joyce pointed “to the concierge’s son who was playing on the steps and remarked to Miss Beach, ‘One day that boy will be a reader of Ulysses’” ( JJ 504).

JOYCE’S SCHEMATA FOR ULYSSES As to Mr Dessy’s suggestion I think that in view of the enormous bulk and the more than enormous complexity of my damned monsternovel it would be better to send him a sort of summary-key-skeleton-scheme (for home use only) ... I have given only “Schlagworte” [catchwords] in my scheme but I think you will understand it all the same. It is the epic of two races (Israel–Ireland) and at the same time the cycle of the human body as well as a little story of a day (life). The character of Ulysses has fascinated me ever since boyhood. I started writing a short story for Dubliners

fifteen years ago but gave it up. For seven years I have been working at this book – blast it! It is also a kind of encyclopaedia. My intention is not only to render the myth sub specie temporis nostri [in the light of our own times] but also to allow each adventure (that is, every hour, every organ, every art being interconnected and interrelated in the somatic scheme of the whole) to condition and even to create its own technique. Each adventure is so to speak one person although it is composed of persons – as Aquinas relates of the heavenly hosts. James Joyce (SL, 271)

The Linati Schema, c.1920 Title

Time

Colour

People

Science / art Meaning

Telemachus

8– 9 a.m.

Gold / white

Telemachus Mentor Antinous Suitors Penelope

Theology

Nestor

9 – 10 a.m.

Brown

Telemachus Nestor Pisistratus Helen

History

Proteus

10 – 11 a.m.

Green

Philology Telemachus Proteus Menelaus Helen Megapenthes

Calypso

8–9 a.m.

Orange

Calypso Penelope Ulysses Callidice

Mythology

Technic

Organ

Symbol

Dispossessed son Dialogue for in contest three and four, narration, soliloquy

-

Hamlet, Ireland, Stephen

The wisdom of the ancients

Dialogue for 2, narration, soliloquy

-

Ulster, woman, practical sense

Primal matter

Soliloquy

-

World, tide, Moon, evolution, metamorphosis

The departing wayfarer

Dialogue for 2, Kidneys soliloquy

Vagina, exile, nymph, Israel, captivity

Joyce’s Schemata for Ulysses · 13

Title

Time

Colour

People

Science / art Meaning

Technic

Organ

Symbol

Lotus Eaters

9 – 10 a.m.

Dark brown

Eurylochus Polites Ulysses Nausicaa

Chemistry

The temptation of faith

Dialogue, prayer, soliloquy

Skin

Host, penis in the bath, froth, flower, drugs, castration, oats

Hades

11 a.m. – Black– 12 noon white

Ulysses Elpenor Ajax Agamemnon Hercules Eriphyle Sisyphus Orion Laertes etc. Prometheus Cerberus Tiresias Hades Prosperpina Telemachus Antinous

-

The descent into Dialogue, nothingness narration

Heart

Cemetery, sacred heart, the past, the unknown man, the unconscious, heart defect, relics, heartbreak

Aeolus

12 noon – 1 p.m.

Red

Aeolus Sons Telemachus Mentor Ulysses

Rhetoric

The derision of victory

Simbouleutike, Lungs dikanike, epideictic, tropes

Machines, wind, fame, kite, failed destinies, the press, mutability

Lestrygonians 1 – 2 p.m.

Blood red

Antiphates The seductive daughter Ulysses

Architecture

Despondency

Peristaltic prose

Scylla and Charybdis

2–3 p.m.

-

Scylla Charybdis Telemachus Ulysses Antinous

Literature

The double-edge Whirlpools sword

Brain

Hamlet, Shakespeare, Christ, Socrates, London, Stratford, scholasticism, mysticism, Plato, Aristotle, youth, maturity

Wandering Rocks

3–4 p.m.

Rainbow Objects Places Forces Ulysses

Mechanics

The hostile milieu

Blood

Caesar, Christ, errors, homonyms, synchronisms, resemblances

Sirens

4–5 p.m.

Coral

Leucothea Parthenope Ulysses Orpheus Menelaus Argonauts

Music

The sweet deceit Fuga per canonem

Ear

Promises, female, sounds, embellishments

Cyclops

5–6 p.m.

Green

Prometheus Noman Galatea Ulysses

Surgery

Egocidal terror

Alternating asymmetry

Muscles, bones

Nation, state, religion, dynasty, idealism, exaggeration, fanaticism, collectivity

Nausicaa

8–9 p.m.

Grey

Painting Nausicaa Handmaidens Alcinous Arete Ulysses

The projected mirage

Retrogressive projection

Eye, nose

Onanism, feminine, hypocrisy

Shifting labyrinth between two shores

Oesophagus Bloody sacrifice, food, shame

14 · Joyce’s Schemata for Ulysses

Title

Time

Colour

People

Science / art Meaning

Technic

Oxen of the Sun

10 – 11 p.m.

White

Lampetie Phaethusa Helios Hyperion Jove Ulysses

Physics

The eternal herds

Prose, embryo, Matrix, foetus, birth uterus

Fertilisation, frauds, parthenogenesis

Circe

11 p.m. Violet – 12 midnight

Circe The Swine Telemachus Ulysses Hermes

Dance

The man-hating ogress

Exploding vision

Locomotor apparatus, skeleton

Zoology, personification, pantheism, magic, poison, antidote, reel

Eumaeus

12 midnight – 1 a.m.

Eumaeus Ulysses Telemachus The Bad Goatherd Pseudangelos

The ambush on home ground

Relaxed prose

Nerves

-

Ithaca

1–2 a.m.

-

Ulysses Telemachus Eurycleia The suitors

-

Armed hope

Dialogue, pacified style

Juices

-

-

Ulysses Laertes Penelope

-

The past sleeps

Monologue, resigned style

Fat

-

Penelope

Organ

Symbol

The Gilbert Schema, c.1930 Title

Scene

Hour

Organ

Colour

Symbol

Art

Technic

Telemachus

The Tower

8 a.m.

-

White / gold

Heir

Theology

Narrative (young)

Nestor

The School

10 a.m.

-

Brown

Horse

History

Catechism (personal)

Proteus

The Strand

11 a.m.

-

Green

Tide

Philology

Monologue (male)

Calypso

The House

8 a.m.

Kidney

Orange

Nymph

Economics

Narrative (mature)

Lotus Eaters

The Bath

10 a.m.

Genitals

-

Eucharist

Botany / chemistry

Narcissism

Hades

The Graveyard

11 a.m.

Heart

White / black

Caretaker

Religion

Incubism

Aeolus

The Newspaper

12 noon

Lungs

Red

Editor

Rhetoric

Enthymemic

Lestrygonians

The Lunch

1 p.m.

Oesophagus

-

Constables

Architecture

Peristaltic

Scylla and Charybdis The Library

2 p.m.

Brain

-

Stratford / London

Literature

Dialectic

Wandering Rocks

The Streets

3 p.m.

Blood

-

Citizens

Mechanics

Labyrinth

Sirens

The Concert Room

4 p.m.

Ear

-

Barmaids

Music

Fuga per canonem

Cyclops

The Tavern

5 p.m.

Muscle

-

Fenian

Politics

Gigantism

Nausicaa

The Rocks

8 p.m.

Eye, nose

Grey / blue

Virgin

Painting

Tumescence / detumescence

Oxen of the Sun

The Hospital

10 p.m.

Womb

White

Mothers

Medicine

Embryonic development

Circe

The Brothel

12 a.m.

Locomotor apparatus

-

Whore

Magic

Hallucination

Eumaeus

The Shelter

1 a.m.

Nerves

-

Sailors

Navigation

Narrative (old)

Ithaca

The House

2 a.m.

Skeleton

-

Comets

Science

Catechism (impersonal)

Penelope

The Bed

-

Flesh

-

Earth

-

Monologue (female)

1 · “TELEMACHUS” Karen R. Lawrence

Ulysses begins at 8 a.m. on the morning of June 16, 1904 and takes place during this one day. Although confining itself explicitly to eighteen hours in the lives of the characters, the narrative covers much greater chronological territory, reaching back into the characters’ unique personal histories and the historical and political forces that shaped them. The setting of the first chapter is the Martello Tower overlooking Dublin Bay on the outskirts of Dublin, the rented lodgings of Stephen and his “frenemy,” Malachi “Buck” Mulligan. Haines, an Englishman who has come to Dublin to better understand Irish culture, particularly the Irish literary revival, is Buck’s temporary houseguest in the Tower. This chapter is known as “Telemachus” – “known as” because the eighteen chapter titles are not identified in the book itself. Rather, they were identified by Joyce in his notes and letters, as well as in his “ground plan” for the novel.1 In calling his book Ulysses, the Latin name for Odysseus, Joyce placed himself squarely in the epic tradition, patterning his modern Irish epic after the structure, plot, characters, and themes of Homer’s Greek epic, the Odyssey. In James Joyce and the Making of “Ulysses,” Frank Budgen, a painter and friend of Joyce, quotes Joyce’s announcement, confirming both his model and its modification: “‘I am now writing a book,’ said

Joyce, ‘based on the wanderings of Ulysses. The Odyssey, that is to say, serves me as a ground plan. Only my time is recent time and all my hero’s wanderings take no more than eighteen hours.’”2 In condensing the wanderings of Odysseus to one day in the life of Dublin characters, Joyce both borrowed and radically altered the tripartite structure of the Odyssey, consisting of the “Telemachia,” the “Odyssey” proper, and the “Nostos” or return. Joyce’s first three chapters make up the “Telemachia,” which tracks the morning of Stephen Dedalus, Joyce’s counterpart to Odysseus’s son, Telemachus. The Odyssey begins with Telemachus at home in Ithaca, surrounded by unruly suitors for his mother’s hand in marriage, wouldbe kings replacing Odysseus, who is missing and presumed dead during his decade-long return from the Trojan War. When we first meet Stephen in Ulysses, he is an alienated presence in his shared and rented space, one of the Martello towers built by the British to guard the coastline of Ireland against foreign invaders. Stephen pays the rent and guards against “usurpers” of various kinds; at the end of the chapter, he relinquishes his key and some money to Mulligan upon demand. The last word in the chapter is “Usurper” (23; 1:744), which sums up Stephen’s defensive posture as he struggles to forge his own

1  See Stuart Gilbert, James Joyce’s “Ulysses”: A Study (New York: Vintage Books, 1955), 30 for the ground plan that Joyce endorsed.

2  See Frank Budgen, James Joyce and the Making of “Ulysses” (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1960), 15.

26 · Karen R. Lawrence

1 Sandycove Point with a view of the Martello Tower in the background

i­dentity in Dublin among a cacophony of powerful voices. Epics are ambitious political poems, originally oral and sung by an epic bard or poet who recounts the story of a community and the exploits of its heroic leader(s). In Homer’s Iliad, the bard commemorates the Greek triumph over the Trojans in the Trojan War; in the Odyssey, the poet sings of Odysseus’s hazardous journey home to his family and kingdom following the Greek’s victory. In writing Ulysses, Joyce explicitly cites his debt not only to Homer, but to other epic predecessors. An integral part of the tradition of the epic is its implicit, and sometimes explicit, inclusion of predecessor poets as guides. Virgil’s Aeneid, the story of the founding of Rome by the Trojan Aeneas, is modeled after the structure of the Iliad; Dante’s Divine Comedy begins with Virgil leading Dante through the Inferno, though the Roman guide can take his successor only part way through the epic journey. Each successive poet alters the tradition. In assigning himself a place in the line of epic poets, Joyce radically refigured both the genre’s form and its imperial politics. The Ireland of

1904 he depicts in Ulysses was a colony of the British Empire. Though donning the mantle of the epic writer, Joyce rejects its imperialist ethos. As Declan Kiberd puts it in “Ulysses” and Us: The Art of Everyday Life in Joyce’s Masterpiece, Ireland in 1904 was still “a society in the making,” but during the years in which Joyce wrote Ulysses, 1914–21, “sovereigns fell, empires toppled, a world system collapsed: but he knew that he was writing a book for the future community which might take their place.” 3 It is in the context of this “back-dating” of Ulysses that we can interpret a now-famous conversation with Frank Budgen recorded in 1918: “I want … to give a picture of the city so complete that if the city one day suddenly disappeared from the earth it could be reconstructed out of my book.”4

3  Declan Kiberd, “Ulysses” and Us: The Art of Everyday Life in Joyce’s Masterpiece (New York: W. W. Norton & Co. 2009), 33 and 63. 4  Budgen, James Joyce, p. 69.

“Telemachus” · 27

2 Martello Tower, Sandycove

As Kiberd observes, by 1918, the late colonial Dublin had already vanished and the cities of Europe had been ravaged in the First World War. The compulsive archiving in Ulysses displays both the epic ambition to capture Dublin for posterity and an anxiety forecasting the disappearance of the city and its archive.5 This twin anxiety also invokes another vanished city so central to the epic tradition, one that was unearthed a decade before Joyce’s birth. In 5  See Jacques Derrida’s “‘No Apocalypse, Not Now’ (Full Speed Ahead, Seven Missiles, Seven Missives),” trans. Catherine Porter and Philip Lewis, Diacritics 14:2 (Summer 1984), 20–31 and Paul K. Saint-Amour’s excellent discussion in “Bombing and the Symptom: Traumatic Earliness and the Nuclear Uncanny,” Diacritics 30:4 (Winter 2000), 59–82. In different ways, both Derrida and Saint-Amour focus on this sense of impending disaster embedded in the text of Ulysses.

1870, the archaeologist Herbert Schliemann unearthed the city of Troy in what is now northwestern Turkey. Schliemann and his team excavated the artifacts of this ancient civilization, unveiling the Trojan culture of the twelfth century bce object by object. Every object was a piece of “evidence” to be put in place through anthropological research. In declaring his intention to fill his Irish epic with such ample evidence of Irish (and specifically Dublin) culture, Joyce mimics the obsessive cataloguing of the epic poem. Nevertheless, Joyce’s statement begs the question of how much detail is “enough” to be “complete” and thus provide adequate documentation of Irish culture and society. Indeed, the dilemma of how to fulfill the totalizing ambitions of the epic in the twentieth century becomes a crux of the novel. The ­narrative

28 · Karen R. Lawrence

1 Sandycove

­ etails are seemingly infinitely expansible and d divisible, and the novel proceeds through a series of styles, forms, and formats such that no one style or format, and no amount of detail, can ever fully achieve “completeness.” Particularly in later chapters such as “Cyclops” and “Ithaca,” this record of one day in the life of Dublin ­inflates to Gargantuan and parodic

proportions the idea that any epic catalogue or documentation would be enough.6 6  See the discussion of the “Ithaca” episode in Karen Lawrence, The Odyssey of Style in “Ulysses,” for the way the chapter parodies narrative closure and demonstrates that there is no point of completeness for the record. “The microscopic notation in ‘Ithaca’ transforms even

“Telemachus” · 29

With “Telemachus,” Joyce establishes a kind of forensic approach to the act of reading, where details about the city and its characters emerge as “clues” rather than appearing as part of narrative exposition that initiates the reader. The reader of Ulysses, like the anthropologist, must piece together bits of evidence. Readers of modern novels are often required to reconstruct more of the political, cultural, and social history of the “world” being created than readers of most eighteenth- and nineteenth-­century novels. But Ulysses is particularly extreme in orphaning details from expository context and demanding that the reader assemble them into a coherent form. Although the first phrase of the novel, “Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead” is a plausible beginning for a novel, the reader needs to be attentive to the evidence of exactly who Buck Mulligan is. In “Telemachus,” many of these clues are embedded within a dialogue aggressively orchestrated by Buck himself. The tower has an atmosphere in which male banter, verbal parries, jokes, and insults produce many of the clues we need to make our way. “I see them pop off every day in the Mater and Richmond and cut up into tripes in the dissectingroom. It’s a beastly thing and nothing else” (8; 1:205–7), says Buck to Stephen, excusing his brutal comment about Stephen’s mother being “beastly dead.” This mocking line of dialogue is among the clues to Buck’s would-be profession. That he is a medical student and not yet a physician is soon confirmed when the milkwoman, impressed by Buck’s banter about “rotten teeth and rotten guts” (14; 1:412) and “consumptives’ spits” (14; 1:414), asks him if he is a medical student, and he confirms that he is. Stephen’s wouldthe smallest detail of reality into a ‘narratable’ fact. But it is the breakdown of the plot into discrete questions and answers that is the primary model of the infinite divisibility of experience and the expansibility of writing” (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981), 189–90. See also Franco Moretti’s discussion of Joyce’s use of the epic form in Franco Moretti, Modern Epic: The World-System from Goethe to García Márquez, trans. Quintin Hoare (London: Verso, 1996). Describing Joyce’s “parataxis” in Ulysses, Moretti writes: “Every paragraph, a digression in miniature – which continues to expand … because there exists no ‘organic’ fetter to hold it in check” (152).

be vocation as an emerging Irish poet is also revealed in a Mulligan one-liner, his mocking epithet for Stephen’s soiled handkerchief: “The bard’s noserag! A new art colour for our Irish poets: snotgreen” (5; 1:73). Mulligan’s verbal hijinks play a substantial role in conveying the alienation of this Irish Telemachus when he’s “at home” in the rented Tower. We learn from Mulligan the punster that even Stephen’s trousers are not his own: according to Mulligan, Stephen’s borrowed pants (or “breeks”) should be called “Secondleg,” not secondhand. An exile in his home and his clothes, Stephen Dedalus begins the novel petulant and resentful. When we first meet him, Stephen seems dispossessed not only by usurpers in the tower, but also from his own story. A reluctant character in his own drama, he is less a protagonist than a disgruntled observer of Buck Mulligan’s performance. It is Buck who arrogates to himself the authority to anchor this Irish story, in part because he is “stately” and “plump” enough to do so. Mulligan’s is “a wellfed voice” (6; 1:107), in more ways than one, loud and ample enough to summon Stephen into the narrative. Mulligan literally calls Stephen to be a spectator for the Mulligan show: “Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful Jesuit!” (3; 1:8). Stephen, “displeased and sleepy” (3; 1:13), grudgingly ascends the staircase to provide an audience. When we first see Buck, he appears as a mock priest, blessing with the sign of the cross not only the tower, the land, and “the awaking mountains,” but Stephen as well (3; 1:10–12). Buck uses the tools of his morning shaving ritual in mock celebration of the Catholic mass, “bearing a bowl of [shaving] lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed” (3; 1:1–2). The lathered water substitutes for the “white corpuscles” of Christ’s body, in a parody of the celebration of “transubstantiation” through which the wine in the priest’s chalice becomes Christ’s blood and the wafer or bread becomes Christ’s body. Mulligan mocks the ceremony further by blasphemously claiming that the body assembled is that of a female Christ, “the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns” (3; 1:21–22). As he intones the beginning of the mass, “Introibo ad altare Dei” (3; 1:5), Latin for “I will go up to God’s altar,” Mulligan also summons the narrative itself into being.

30 · Karen R. Lawrence

This narrative awakening parodies as well the Homeric bard seeking inspiration from the gods (“Sing to me, Muse, of the man of twists and turns”). Mulligan is a bard who delights in his own magic tricks; with props and mocking imitations, he sets the stage for the novel, taking credit for its showy productions. The “Telemachus” chapter extends the life not only of Homer’s Telemachus, but also of Joyce’s own Stephen Dedalus in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. At the end of A Portrait, Stephen vows to embrace “silence, exile, and cunning,” leaving both the Catholic Church and Ireland to become “a priest of eternal imagination,” an artist who would “forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience” of his race (P 186, 213). Ulysses begins after Stephen has returned to Ireland from a brief trip to Paris, summoned by a telegram abruptly informing him of his mother’s death. The first chapter of the novel is almost like a play, with Buck not only acting, impersonating, and miming, but also directing the action. He cues the music (“Slow music, please,” directs the audience to “Shut your eyes, gents. One moment” [3; 1:22]) and admonishes them to be quiet (“Silence, all” [3; 1:23]) as he performs his magic. Turning the word into flesh is not an easy task, and from the beginning of Ulysses, we are meant to see the labor involved in the magic trick of turning “word” into “world,” a pun that echoes in the novel. Buck requires silence for a bit of theater, his voice commanding the action outside as well as inside the tower: “He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle of call, then paused awhile in rapt attention, his even white teeth glistening here and there with gold points. Chrysostomos. Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm. – Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch off the current, will you?” (3; 1:24–29). Timing is everything in this performance. Summoned into existence, Stephen is bombarded by voices that call him to participate both in the male fraternal society he inhabits as a young Irish artist and in the story being told. For if Stephen is first described as a “watcher” of the Mulligan show (4; 1:30), his most insistent role is as a “hearer” of voices. “Kinch ahoy! Buck Mulligan’s voice sang from within the tower. It came nearer up the staircase, call-

ing again” (10; 1:280–82). With Stephen, we hear these voices, sometimes disembodied in the text: “A voice within the tower called loudly: – Are you up there, Mulligan?” (9; 1:227); “Have you the key? a voice asked” (11; 1:322). Throughout the chapter, Mulligan not only calls Stephen, but name-calls, assigning nicknames: “O, my name for you is the best: Kinch, the knifeblade” (4; 1:54–55); “the loveliest mummer of them all” (5; 1:97–98); “the jejeune Jesuit” (4; 1:45); “your absurd name, an ancient Greek” (4; 1:34); “Japhet in search of a father!” (18; 1:561). We experience with Stephen these insistent – even assaulting – voices as they painfully insinuate themselves into his consciousness. Mulligan’s taunts, in particular, are words that wound. As Mulligan “shaves evenly and with care, in silence, seriously” (5; 1:99), so as not to nick himself, Stephen, “shielding the gaping wounds which the words had left in his heart” (8; 1:216–17), experiences Mulligan’s taunting words as stigmata establishing his martyrdom. As Mulligan calls him names, Stephen struggles internally to decide what’s in a name. “[D]epressed by his own voice” (8; 1:188), he ­realizes this dialogue is not the main battleground of his identity. The real tug of war is conducted in his consciousness, where he tries to fend off the various voices, calls, and whistles that summon him into existence, dramatized as external voices but competing on the terrain of his consciousness. The French philosopher Louis Althusser speaks of the way individuals in society are addressed or “hailed” into subject positions or social identities by a culture, according to ideologies that run through its various social structures. He called this process “interpellation,” by which one’s subjectivity is summoned by society to conform to its conventions, which include class and gender norms, among others. Althusser wrote about ideological state apparatuses (ISAs), the institutions of the state like education, religion, and the media that “hail” an individual to conform. In A Portrait, Stephen Dedalus feels pulled by the calling of the priesthood, but by the end of the novel he resists this vocation or calling, and decides to be an artist, whose defenses against society’s norms or ideologies include “silence, exile, and cunning” (P 208). “Telemachus” is

“Telemachus” · 31

full of voices summoning Stephen – a range of shibboleths, stereotypes, allegiances, and expectations make claims on his identity. Hearing these voices as Stephen experiences them, we see his subjectivity emerge before our eyes in the first three chapters, culminating in the third chapter, “Proteus,” where his interior monologue dominates the narrative.7 Indeed, the first sign of this interior monologue appears between Mulligan’s “long slow whistle of call” (3; 1:24) and the response he receives (“Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm [3; 1:26]).” As Stephen watches Mulligan whistle, we share his perspective as he zooms in on Mulligan’s mouth, the origin of the call: “his even white teeth glistening here and there with gold points. Chrysostomos” (3; 1:25–26). The word “Chrysostomos” arises suddenly, cut off from any context. Where does it come from? This is the first word of interior monologue (otherwise known as “stream of consciousness”), that is, the first word purportedly uttered in Stephen’s mind that the reader hears directly. With this word, Stephen launches his first epithet for Buck, if only silently. The Greek word “Chrysostomos,” means “goldenmouth,” punning on both Buck’s gold teeth and the golden-tongued rhetoric that Stephen mistrusts. Wielding the language of his Jesuit education, despite rejecting the call of the Catholic Church, Stephen reverses the name-calling and fights to gain the territory of the narrative. A common epithet for orators, the word “Chrysostomos” derives from the name of one of the fathers of the Greek Church, St John Chrysostom (407 ce). The mental reference signals Stephen’s resistance to the disingenuously friendly solicitations he will face in the chapter. With this internal ammunition Stephen tries to fend off the alternately hectoring and soliciting voices that hail him into the society these “usurpers” hope to create. Against Mulligan’s fashionable scheme for Hellenizing Ireland with “the new paganism” (7; 1:176), Stephen mobilizes his own learned Greek resources as a counter to the barrage of epithets Mulligan deploys to define 7  According to the ground plan Joyce provided to Stuart Gilbert, the technic of “Proteus” is “Monologue (male).”

and ­confine him. An exile in his home and even in his clothes, Stephen unleashes his own intellectual weapons. Throughout this first chapter, Mulligan and Haines try to solicit Stephen for their imagined communities. At one point, Mulligan literally shows Stephen his own image in the cracked mirror that Mulligan says he poached from a servant girl: “Look at yourself, he said, you dreadful bard” (6; 1:134). Stephen is forced to see himself as others see him (6; 1:136) and retorts with a self-deprecating image of his own: “It is a symbol of Irish art. The cracked lookingglass of a servant” (7; 1:146). This image is not quite Stephen’s, but partially borrowed, for it wrings a clever twist on a line from Oscar Wilde’s Intentions, in which a character says: “I can quite understand your objection to art being treated as a mirror. You think it would reduce genius to the position of a cracked looking-glass.”8 Adopting Wilde’s rejection of the realist model in which art is a mirror held up to nature, leaving no room for genius, Stephen does Wilde one better, painting his own theory of artistic representation: the mirror of the Irish Catholic artist is not only a cracked looking glass, but that of a servant, a mirror warped and fractured by the colonial Irish artist’s subjection to political, religious, and economic domination. When Haines, the Englishman, expresses the platitude that the artist can transcend his circumstances if he chooses to (“After all, I should think you are able to free yourself. You are your own master, it seems to me” [20; 1:636–37]), Stephen replies: “I am the servant of two masters […] an English and an Italian” (20; 1:638), which he then clarifies as “the imperial British state” and “the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church” (20; 1:643–44). As Cheryl Herr and Chris Connell remark in “Political Contexts for Ulysses,” the “Ulyssean mirror emerges not as reflective of but as fundamentally shaped by political relations.”9 Its fracture is a symbol of the inadequacy of any one version, one n ­arrative, one formal 8  Gilbert, James Joyce’s “Ulysses,” 101, n. 1. 9  In Approaches to Teaching Joyce’s Ulysses, ed. Kathleen McCormick and Erwin R. Steinberg (New York: The Modern Language Association of America, 1993), 31–41, 33.

32 · Karen R. Lawrence

r­ epresentation of the late colonial landscape of Ireland in 1904. The incoherence of representation expressed in the image of the “cracked lookingglass of a servant” is mirrored in Stephen’s ­consciousness as well. The Stephen Dedalus who appears on the final pages of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, determined to “forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race,” is blocked not only by mockery on the outside but by self-loathing on the inside. He is stuck in the bitterness of resentment and rejection, romanticizing his own alienation. Although Stephen rejects the romantic Ireland of the Celtic Revival, ironically championed by none other than the cosmopolitan Englishman, Haines, his bitter alienation draws him to its stereotypes. The old milkwoman who comes to the tower is viewed by Stephen in what Enda Duffy in The Subaltern Ulysses calls “the kitsch symbolism” of Mother Ireland: a “wandering crone, lowly form of an immortal serving her conqueror [Haines] and her gay betrayer [Mulligan], their common cuckquean, a messenger from the secret morning” (14; 1:404–5).10 A resentful witness to a scene in which he plays no part, Stephen listens “in scornful silence” (14; 1:418). But if this “messenger from the secret morning” is cast as a pawn in the bitter colonial drama in Stephen’s head, she serves double symbolic duty as a disguised Athena in the Odyssey, sent by the gods to summon Telemachus to leave his mother’s home in “Ithaca” to find his father. The cultural dynamics of the scene buttress Stephen’s decision to quit the tower. Although the first chapter sets up a rhetorical battlefield of male betrayers, usurpers, and conquerors, the most frightening summons Stephen “hears” in the episode is his mother’s, calling to him from beyond the grave. Her “mute secret words” (10; 1:272) and wasted body haunt his dreams: “Silently, in a dream she had come to him after her death, her wasted body within its loose brown graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood” (5; 1:102–4). With slight alteration, the same phrase reappears in the chap10  See Duffy’s The Subaltern Ulysses (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1994), 27.

ter, suggesting that Stephen is caught in the grip of memory, unable to move forward from his mother’s death and his guilt at refusing to pray for her. Swinburne’s phrase for the sea cited by Mulligan as he beholds Dublin Bay (“the great sweet mother”) blends in Stephen’s mind with the “bowl of bitter ­waters” by his mother’s bedside as she was dying of cancer: “Across the threadbare cuffedge he saw the sea hailed as a great sweet mother by the wellfed voice beside him. The ring of bay and skyline held a dull green mass of liquid” (5–6; 1:107–9). In a fine essay on “Telemachus,” Gary Leonard reads the sea and the tower in “Telemachus” as female and male symbols of competing forces within Stephen: “the construction of the ‘tower’ of masculinity requires one to deny, among other things, the original ‘sea’ of a mother’s womb, and, additionally, it requires countless rituals to maintain its ­(fictional) edifice against a sea of troubles.”11 “Telemachus,” he argues, presents a detailed display of modern masculinity in crisis, one that is “peculiar to [Joyce’s] particular social and historical reality.” Leonard comments on the rituals enacted and roles played in the chapter, viewing them as signs of “the hidden labor of producing and maintaining a culturally intelligible image of masculinity.”12 While this is a very useful, focused reading of the construction of gender, it intentionally limits the range of meanings associated with the fragmented lens of the Irish colonial subject and its multiple interpellations. This focus also eclipses the way the chapter begins to signal the narratological difficulties of capturing a coherent representation of reality that is adequate or “complete” enough to tell the story. Ulysses is a fiction that tries on styles and forms as if trying on a costume. Its flagrant self-referentiality accelerates as the novel begins to flout 11  Gary Leonard, “‘A Little Trouble about Those White Corpuscles’: Mockery, Heresy, and the Transubstantiation of Masculinity in ‘Telemachus,’” in “Ulysses” En-Gendered Perspectives: Eighteen New Essays on the Episodes, ed. Kimberly J. Devlin and Marilyn Reizbaum (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1999), 1–19, 2. 12  Ibid., 2, 10.

“Telemachus” · 33

the ideological and provisional assumptions of its styles, increasingly turning novelistic convention into novelistic cliché.13 With its deliberate theatricality – its costume changes, stage directions and rhetoric, and its entrances and exits – “Telemachus” begins to create the world of its Dublin characters and simultaneously exhibits the cracks in representational strategies that widen in the latter chapters. Ulysses increasingly signals the arbitrariness of the sign as it continues, obsessively, its attempts to turn word into world, to return to that echoing pun. In The Odyssey of Style in “Ulysses,” I described this kind of narrative doubleness, pointing out the way that the novel establishes the empirical world of the novel in its early chapters and progressively undermines the idea of any stylistic norm. A narrative norm is created in the Telemachiad for the reader to hold on to.14 “The narrative conventions established in the early chapters of Ulysses,” I wrote, “include the presence of an identifiable and relatively consistent style of narration that persists in the first eleven c­ hapters of the book and the tendency of the narrative to borrow the pace and diction of the characters’ language … the conventions include both the continued presence of a particular style and the adaptability of style to character.” In the Telemachiad, this recognizable “initial style” of narrative sentence establishes the third-person norm; this identifiable narrative sentence is a serious, literate, and formal third-person sentence first associated with Stephen Dedalus, as exemplified in: “Two shafts of soft daylight fell across the flagged floor from the high barbacans: and at the meeting of their rays a cloud 13  See Susan Stewart, On Longing: Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic, the Souvenir, the Collection (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1993): “The reflexivity of the modernist use of language calls attention not to the material existence of a world lying beyond and outside language but to the world-making capacity of language, a capacity which points to the arbitrariness of the sign at the same time that it points to the world as a transient creation of language” (5). 14  Lawrence, “The Narrative Norm,” first printed in The Odyssey of Style, 38–54, reprinted in Karen R. Lawrence, Who’s Afraid of James Joyce? (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2010), 15–26, with other essays on style in Ulysses.

of coalsmoke and fumes of fried grease floated, turning” (11; 1:315–17). This kind of sentence, however, continues into the chapters introducing Leopold Bloom and, thus, cannot be explained strictly as character-based. The same stylistic attributes of the narrative sentence are found in “Hades,” for example, and are not associated with Stephen: “The caretaker hung his thumbs in the loops of his gold watch chain and spoke in a discreet tone to their vacant smiles” (103; 6:719–21). In a letter to his friend Harriet Weaver in 1919, Joyce himself once described this “initial style” as “the rock of Ithaca”: “I understand that you may begin to regard the various styles of the episodes with dismay and prefer the initial style much as the wanderer did who longed for the rock of Ithaca.”15 Yet, even in “Telemachus” the presence of another, more naive, “adverbial” style subtly undermines the norm. It is a style exemplified in phrases, such as “he said sternly,” “he cried briskly,” “Stephen said quietly,” that seem like self-conscious, stage-direction-like descriptions, as if the narrative were showing us the building blocks of the narrative drama. As several critics have noted, this naivety and self-consciousness are consistent with the character of the play-master, Mulligan.16 This purely character-based understanding of these simplistic elements in the first chapter fails to account for the way stylistic role-playing itself becomes a dominant formal mode of Ulysses. One could more accurately say that the “Telemachus” episode adumbrates the “strange narrative disruptions to come,” showily setting the stage for narrative costume changes and period pieces whose significance will emerge only later in the story.17 Indeed, the reader must wait until “Circe,” the fifteenth episode of Ulysses, for the full unfolding of the theatrics first introduced in “Telemachus.” There, during Stephen and Bloom’s hallucinatory trip to Nightown, the brothel district of Dublin, the subtle role-­playing of earlier chapters gives way to e­xpressionistic drama, with 15  Lawrence, The Odyssey of Style, 43, n. 9. 16  See Hugh Kenner, Joyce’s Voices (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978), 69–70. 17  Lawrence, The Odyssey of Style, 44.

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stage directions and costume changes that literally dramatize the seductive and confusing “hailings” that Stephen and Bloom experience throughout the novel. The stage directions on the first page of “Circe” specify that “Whistles call and answer” (408; 15:9), and the first speakers are “The Call” and “The Answer” (408; 15:10,12), thus externalizing the inner voices of desire we have encountered since the first episode. The “masters” of priest and king Stephen identifies in “Telemachus” materialize here as embodied threats, among them Edward the Seventh and two English soldiers named Private Carr and Private Compton, avatars of “the brutish empire” (552; 15:4569–70). In the dramatic text of “Circe,” myth and melodrama, archetype and stereotype merge. In its hallucinatory atmosphere, the novel turns itself inside out, projecting desires and inner conflicts on a burlesque-like stage. The staginess and mock rituals of “Telemachus” appear full-blown in dramatic script.

As “Circe” demonstrates, and as “Telemachus” already begins to suggest, private associations and idiosyncratic desires are themselves part of age-old dramas enacted again and again. It turns out that the unconscious is also deeply citational. On the one hand, Ulysses documents the personal histories and traumas of ordinary people on one Dublin day; on the other hand, its plethora of narrative costumes and literary parallels suggests that subjectivity – like this modern Irish epic itself – is “forged” out of historical, mythic, and linguistic materials. Ageold stories of rivalry, loyalty, fatherhood, and betrayal are enacted through Joyce’s massive web of allusions and quotations. Stephen is not only Telemachus, but also Hamlet, Japhet, and Christ; Bloom is not only Odysseus but also the ghost of King Hamlet, the wandering Jew, and God the father. To borrow a line from Joyce’s last masterpiece, Finnegans Wake, Ulysses, too, is “a tale told of many.”

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for Jesuit read jesuit

G 1:20

insert comma after call

Buck: man of spirit and gay conduct, dandy; buckaroo (Dublin slang), a bit of a lad. Mulligan: see the Index of Recurrent Characters. Introibo ad altare Dei: Latin, “I will go unto the altar of the Lord,” the first line of the Latin Mass; originally Psalm 43:4. called up: called out (G, correction). Jesuit: member of the religious order the Society of Jesus, established in 1534 and known for erudition and political influence. gunrest: raised stone

platform that once held a cannon, at the center of the roof of the tower. untonsured: lacking the shaved head traditional for priests and monks. Christine: distortion of “Christ”; Mulligan parodies the sacrament of the Eucharist in which bread transubstantiates into the body of Christ. blood and ouns: distortion of the Medieval oath “God’s blood and wounds.” Chrysostomos: Greek, “golden mouthed,” a term of praise for orators.

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G 1:40

G 1:60

for razor blade read razorblade

Your absurd name, an ancient Greek: Saint Stephen, the first Christian martyr; Daidalos, Greek, “cunningly wrought”; Daedalus, mythical craftsman in Homer, Herodotus, Virgil, and Ovid, invented the labyrinth to house the Minotaur and made wings of wax and feathers so that he and his son Icarus could flee King Minos; when Icarus flew too close to the sun, his wings melted and he fell into the sea and drowned.

Malachi: Hebrew, “my messenger”; Old Testament prophet. Hellenic: period of ancient Greek culture from the beginning of the Iron Age to the death of Alexander the Great in 323 bce. jejune: meagre, childish, also fasting (obsolete). Kinch: Oliver St John Gogarty’s nickname for Joyce, “the cutting sound of a knife” ( JJ). in a funk: (slang) in a state of extreme nervousness or panic.

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G 1:80

for great read grey

G 1:100

Scutter: scrambling, noisy rush or (Irish slang) diarrhea. bard: Celtic minstrel-poet. Algy: Algernon Charles Swinburne, English poet (1837–1909). a great sweet mother: from Swinburne’s “The Triumph of Time” (1866), “I will go back to the great sweet mother, / Mother and lover of men, the sea.” Epi oinopa ponton: Greek, recurring phrase from Homer’s Odyssey, “upon the wine-dark sea.” Thalatta! Thalatta!: Greek, from

Xenophon’s (c.434–355 bce) Anabasis, “The sea! The sea!” Kingstown: now Dún Laoghaire on the south shore of Dublin Bay. hyperborean: of the extreme north of the earth; an attitude associated with German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900), who writes in The Anti-Christ, “Rather live in the ice than among modern virtues and other south winds!” mummer: mumbler, also (slang) an actor, especially a bad one.

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G 1:120

for Genera read General

G 1:140

dogsbody: person who is given menial tasks. breeks: (slang) trousers. poxy: (slang) useless, worthless. bowsy: (Dublin slang) disreputable drunkard. palps: fleshy fingertips. the Ship: hotel and bar, 5 Lower Abbey Street. g. p. i.: (slang) eccentric; paralysis and insanity are symptoms associated with syphilis. Dottyville: psychiatric hospital. Conolly Norman: psychiatrist and superintendent of Richmond Asylum from 1886 to 1908. As he and others see me: after “To a Louse,” by Robert Burns (1759–96), “To see oursels as ithers see us!” skivvy: maid-of-all-work.

Lead him not into temptation: from the Lord’s Prayer. Ursula: fourth century saint martyred along with 11,000 virgins. rage of Caliban […] Wilde: In Shakespeare’s Tempest (c.1610), Prospero keeps Caliban as a slave, having been shipwrecked on his island; Oscar Wilde (1854–1900) wrote in the preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891), “The nineteenth century dislike of Realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass. The nineteenth century dislike of Romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass.”

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G 1:160

G 1:180

Parried: opposed, averted, disputed. oxy: oxlike, resident of Oxford. jalap: purgative drug. Hellenise: In Culture and Anarchy (1869), Matthew Arnold called for the Hellenization of English culture, by which he meant the cultivation of the sensual and aesthetic capacities, in contrast to an opposing “Hebraic” tendency towards discipline and morality. ragging:

scolding, teasing. debagged: to have one’s trousers removed as a punishment or joke. play the giddy ox: “To act the fool generally; to behave in an irresponsible or overhilarious manner” (Brewer). new paganism: slogan of the turn-of-the-century aesthetes. omphalos: Greek, “navel, center, or hub.”

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G 1:200

ideas and sensations: two key terms from the empiricist philosophy of John Locke (1632–1704), who held that we are born without innate ideas and develop our knowledge from sensations. Mater and Richmond: the Mater Misericordiae (“Mother of Mercy”) Hospital on Eccles Street and the Richmond Lunatic Asylum on North Brunswick Street. Sir Peter Teazle: in

The School for Scandal (1777) by Richard Brinsley Sheridan (1751–1816), a rich old gentleman who has a young, spendthrift, and possibly unfaithful wife. picks buttercups off the quilt: hallucinatory behavior. crossed: opposed. Lalouette’s: well-known mortuary, 68 Marlborough Street, offering funeral services including professional mourners known as mutes.

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G 1:220

G 1:240

for above read alone

Loyola: Saint Ignatius Loyola (1491–1556), founder of the Jesuits. Sassenach: Hiberno-English from Irish Gaelic, Sasanaigh, “Englishman.” rashers: slices of bacon. And no more turn aside and brood […] cars: lines from “Who Goes with Fergus?” (1892) by

W. B. Yeats (1865–1939); the poem continues, “For Fergus rules the brazen cars, / And rules the shadows of the wood, / And the white breast of the dim sea /And all the dishevelled wandering stars.”

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for tassled read tasseled

for pantomine read pantomime G 1:260

G 1:280

Royce: Edward William Royce (1841–1926), English comic actor. Turko the terrible: 1873 pantomime (theatrical entertainment) at the Gaiety Theatre, Dublin; King Turko sings here about the powers granted by the magical Fairy Rose. And no more turn aside and brood: from Yeats’s “Who Goes with Fergus?” ghostcandle: candle used to ward off spirits,

particularly from corpses. Liliata rutilantium [...] excipiat: Latin, “may the lilied throng of radiant Confessors encompass thee; may the choir of rejoicing Virgins welcome thee”; from a prayer in the Catholic Layman’s Missal, to be said for someone at the point of dying. mosey: idiot, fool.

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G 1:300

G 1:320

Touch him for a quid: (slang) borrow a pound from him. guinea: twenty-one shillings, or one pound and five pence. kip: (slang) brothel, lodging house, bed, or job. sovereigns: British gold coins worth one pound. O, won’t we have […] day: combination of popular songs for the coronation of Edward VII in 1901. boat of incense: vessel used in a religious ceremony.

Clongowes: Clongowes Wood College, an all-boys Jesuit school, attended by Stephen in Portrait. server of a servant: Noah’s curse on his son: “Cursed be Canaan; a servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren,” Genesis 9:25. barbacans: outer fortifications of a castle or small openings in the walls. Janey Mack: euphemism for Jesus.

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G 1:340

G 1:360

as the candle remarked when … : elliptical but sexually suggestive reference. grub: (slang) food. jay: euphemistic expression for Jesus. pet: sulk. In nomine

Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti: Latin, blessing, “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.” God send: God grant.

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G 1:380

insert He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned.

insert dash at beginning of line to mark conversation

the fishgods of Dundrum: possibly the giant Formorians, who are not connected with the village (now a suburb of Dublin). weird sisters […] big wind: parody of Yeats’s sisters, Elizabeth and Lily, who ran Dun Emer Press, originally in Dundrum, and the self-described date of their edition of Yeats’s In the Seven Woods (1903). Mabinogion: collection of Welsh prose tales, ranging from the Celtic myths to late Medieval mythology and Arthurian romance. Upanishads: Hindu Vedic theological and philosophical texts written in 800–200 bce

in Sanskrit and part of the basis of Theosophical wisdom according to Helena Petrovna Blavatsky, who co-founded the Theosophical Society in 1875. For old Mary Ann [...]: from the anonymous song “McGilligan’s Daughter, Mary Ann.” hising: Hiberno-English, lifting. her petticoats … He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned. The doorway was darkened (G, inclusion). collector of prepuces: collector of foreskins; after God’s commandment in Genesis regarding circumcision.

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G 1:400

G 1:420 insert comma before the

tilly: from Irish tuilleadh, “a small amount added to anything as a token gift or for good measure” (Dolan). Silk of the kine and poor old woman: Ireland was figured as the finest of cows and as an old woman who revealed herself to patriots to be a queenly girl. cuckquean: betrayed woman. Buck Mulligan answered. —Look at that now, she said. Stephen listened (G, inclusion). shrive

and oil for the grave: hear confession and perform last rituals before burial. woman’s unclean loins: according to Leviticus, women were unclean after childbirth and during menstruation. Is there Gaelic on you?: comic mistranslation of the Irish Gaelic question, “Do you speak Irish?”; in 1904, native Irish speakers were found mainly in remote rural and coastal areas.

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G 1:440

G 1:460

florin: coin of two shillings’ value. Ask nothing more of me […] Heart of my heart […]: from Swinburne’s “The Oblation” (1871). stony: (slang) broke, penniless. junket: to hold or attend a banquet. Ireland expects

that every man this day will do his duty: after Lord Nelson’s appeal, “England expects ...,” at the battle of Trafalgar (1805).

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G 1:480

G 1:500

Agenbite of inwit: Middle English, “remorse of conscience”; title of a medieval moral manual, Ayenbite of Inwyt (1340). Yet here’s a spot: from Shakespeare’s Macbeth (v.i.34), said by Lady Macbeth while sleepwalking after the murder of King Duncan.

Mulligan is stripped of his garments: after the Stations of the Cross that mark the stages of Jesus’s Crucifixion; at the Tenth Station, as described in the books of Matthew and John, “Christ is stripped of his garments.”

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G 1:520

new paragraph after suppose

G 1:540

Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself: from “Song of Myself” (1855) by Walt Whitman (1819–92). Mercurial Malachi: Mercury is the messenger of the Greek Gods. Latin quarter hat: soft hat associated with the bohemians of the Parisian Left Bank. going forth he met Butterly: after St Peter’s reaction to his realization that he has betrayed Jesus as foretold, “And going forth, he wept bitterly,” Matthew 26:75; Thom’s lists a Maurice Butterly, magistrate, Court Duff House, Blanchardstown. ashplant: sapling of an

ash tree used as a walking stick. Martello: one of twentyone defensive towers built by the British in the early 1800s to ward off French invasion; named after a heavily defended headland in Corsica. Billy Pitt: William Pitt (1759–1806), Prime Minister of Britain (1783–1801 and 1804–6). when the French were on the sea: from the late eighteenth-century Irish ballad, “The Shan Van Vocht” (The Poor Old Woman). Thomas Aquinas: (1225–74) theologian and scholastic philosopher of particular importance to Stephen in Portrait.

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for aimiably read amiably

G 1:560

G 1:580

stolewise: draped like a scarf or priest’s vestment. Japhet: one of Noah’s sons; Captain Frederick Marryat’s (1792–1848) novel Japhet in Search of a Father (1836). Elsinore: location of Hamlet’s castle. That beetles o’er his base into the sea: in Hamlet, Horatio warns Hamlet against following the Ghost: “What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, / Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff/ That beetles o’er his base into the sea” (i.iv.71–73). The sea’s ruler: from representations of Britain’s power, especially the

1740 song “Rule Britannia,” by James Thomson. the Muglins: sandbank with a light at the southeast end of Dublin Bay. withrawn: withdrawn (G, correction). I’m the queerest young fellow: from Gogarty’s burlesque “The Song of the Cheerful (but slightly Sarcastic) Jesus,” parodying the doctrine that the Virgin Mary conceived Jesus through the Holy Spirit, the third person of the Trinity, sometimes figured as a dove; Mary married Joseph, a carpenter.

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G 1:600

when I’m making the wine: parody of Jesus’ turning of water into wine at the wedding at Cana, John 2. tell Tom, Dick and Harry I rose from the dead: parody of Jesus’s command to his disciples to spread the news of his resurrection. Olivet’s: the Mount of Olives on the east side of Jerusalem, from which Christ ascended to heaven. the fortyfoot hole: swimming spot at

Sandycove. Creation from nothing and miracles and a personal God: features of Christian faiths, namely that nothing existed before God created the world, that events of divine agency occur, and that God is not an impersonal force or the reality of all beings but possesses the nature or attributes of a person and can be related to as such.

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G 1:620

G 1:640

familiar: close friend, servant, or attendant spirit. ferrule: metal cap at the end of a walking stick. I eat his salt bread: prediction of Dante’s exile in Paradiso (17:58), “You are to know the bitter taste of others’ bread, how salt it is.” et unam […]: Latin, “in one holy, catholic, and apostolic church,” from the Nicene Creed. Marcellus: Pope Marcellus II (1501–55); Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina’s innovative polyphonic Missa Papae Marcelli (1565) was performed in Dublin in 1898;

Joyce declared that Palestrina’s work “saved music for the Church” (Budgen). vigilant angel of the church militant: Archangel Michael, a figure for the Church’s fight against heresy. heresiarchs: founders of heresies. mitres: tall deeply cleft headdress worn by a bishop as a symbol of episcopal office. Photius: (c.820–c.891) patriarch of Constantinople who precipitated the schism of the Eastern Church from Rome by refusing to recognize the equality of God the Father and the Son.

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G 1:660

G 1:680

for breastbone read lips and breastbone

Arius: (d.336) Alexandrian priest whose statement that God the Father and the Son were not of the same “substance” or essence prompted the Council of Nicea to produce the Nicene Creed (325). consubstantiality: doctrine that Jesus is of the same substance (or essence) as God, the Father. Valentine: Valentinus (c.135–c.160), Egyptian Gnostic who held that Jesus was a spirit while on earth. Sabellius: third century priest and theologian who held that the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost were

three operations of a monad. all them that weave the wind: from John Webster’s (c.1580–c.1625) song in The Devil’s Law Case (1623), “Vain the ambition of kings / Who seek by trophies/ and dead things / To leave a living name behind, / And weave but nets to catch the wind.” Michael’s host: the angels of Archangel Michael. Zut! Nom de Dieu!: French, “Damn! In the name of God!” at brow and lips and breastbone (G, inclusion).

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“Telemachus” · 22

G 1:700 for rotten read rotto

G 1:720

to stew: (slang) to sweat, or work intensively. Spooning: (slang) courting or making love. up the pole: (slang) in a fix, pregnant. My twelfth rib is gone: Mulligan likens himself to Adam, the first man, from whose rib God created Eve. Uebermensch: German, “superman or overman”; from Thus Spake Zarathustra

(1883–91), where Nietzsche calls for a superhuman who creates its own values. chemise: undershirt. He who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord: inversion of Proverbs (19:17): “He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord.” Thus spake Zarathustra: see note on “My twelfth rib.”

23 · “Telemachus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 57

G 1:740

Horn of a bull, hoof of a horse, smile of a Saxon: Irish proverb, “The three most dangerous things ...” The Ship: see 6. Liliata rutilantium […] : see 10.

2 · “NESTOR” Robert Spoo

“Nestor,” the shortest episode of Ulysses, is filled with a weariness that marks it off from the youthful banter of “Telemachus” and the ruminative intensity of “Proteus.” The Homeric correspondences are straightforward, at first glance. In Book 3 of the Odyssey, Telemachus, in search of his father Odysseus, voyages to Pylos to seek help from Nestor, the tamer of horses who fought with Odysseus at Troy. Urged by Athena, Telemachus shyly questions the old warrior, surrounded by his sons, and hears the history of Odysseus’s cleverness in battle and the scattering of the Greek fighters after the fall of Troy. The young man receives large hospitality from Nestor but little useful information about his father. He partakes of a feast of broiled heifer – Nestor’s sacrifice to Athena – and then sets forth with Pisistratus, Nestor’s youngest son, to resume his quest for news of wandering Odysseus. In Joyce’s restaging of the Pylos visit, Stephen Dedalus, distant emotionally though not geographically from his father, listens to the “old wisdom” of his employer, the headmaster Garrett Deasy, who, like Nestor in the circle of his sons, is surrounded by boys at his private school in the nearby coastal town of Dalkey (34; 2:376). It is 10 a.m. Engaged to assist Deasy, Stephen is conducting a disengaged history lesson on the Greek general, Pyrrhus. “Nestor” is composed of three movements, beginning with Stephen’s apathetic lesson, followed by an intermezzo in which he helps a helpless boy with his algebra, and ending with an interview with Deasy, who pays Stephen his wages with an

unsought bonus of historical harangue that is by turns anti-Catholic, anti-female, and anti-Semitic. A neat pattern emerges: history lesson, mathematics lesson, history lesson. Joyce appointed “catechism (personal)” as the episode’s technique, to balance “catechism (impersonal)” as the technique of “Ithaca,” the second of the three episodes that conclude Ulysses, just as “Nestor” is the second episode of the opening triad.1 Patterns and correspondences are fluid placeholders in Ulysses. Old Deasy is Nestor to young Stephen, but Stephen is Nestor to the still younger boys he instructs: both men try, and mostly fail, to impart dry history to minds suspicious of mature counsels. The role of Nestor is distributed according to age differentials, the older man in each case representing “wisdom” that will tell “history and no lies,” as Athena says of Nestor.2 The pedagogic challenge involves not so much historical veracity as personal credibility: why should the young believe the old? First Movement: History, Ghosts, and Art The teachings of elders are unpersuasive partly because the method in Deasy’s school is, indeed, a dreary catechism, a word derived from 1  Don Gifford, ed., “Ulysses” Annotated: Notes for James Joyce’s “Ulysses” (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988), 30, 566. 2  Homer, The Odyssey, trans. Robert Fitzgerald (New York: Anchor Books, 1963), 35. Hereafter the page number is cited parenthetically in the text.

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3  Dalkey from Sorrento

the Greek by way of Latin for instruction that is “dinned down” to subordinate ears (Gk. kata down; eˉ khein to sound, ring).3 In its Christian forms, catechism involves prescribed answers to prescribed questions, a pedagogy that rewards obedient memory rather than independent thought. As we’ll see, Stephen hopes to bring history within the flexible sway of art – “an actuality of the possible as possible” (26; 2:67) – instead of catechism’s ossification of the actual as inevitable. The first movement of “Nestor” finds him grilling the restless boys on Hellenistic battles; no more interested than they are, he steals glances at the text to refresh a memory parched by joyless rote. In its lethargic tone, “Nestor” parallels the second episode of Leopold Bloom’s odyssey, “Lotus-Eaters,” which also takes place at 10  a.m.4 History, administered as mnemonic opiate, turns teacher and student into jaded citizens, forgetful of ambition and duty, like Odysseus’s mates who taste the sleep-­inducing lotus plant. 3  Walter W. Skeat, A Concise Etymological Dictionary of the English Language (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1882), 72. 4  Gifford, “Ulysses” Annotated, 84.

Joyce assigned “history” as the “art” of “Nestor,” by which he meant the telling of history – a shared understanding of the past rooted in social acts of remembering, saying, and listening.5 But the vivid orality of Homeric telling has declined, in the age of print, to a mechanical muster of data consigned to the textbook from which Stephen draws his lockstep lesson. He drills his students on an ancient battle, all the while waging internal war on the formulaic history he is paid to administer. Just as the opening of “Telemachus” staged a contest between art and mockery, with Stephen and Buck Mulligan confronting each other around a gun-rest at the top of a rented military tower, so “Nestor” pitches a battle between art and history in which the stakes are a conception of the past as imaginative possibility rather than historical dogma bounded by fixities and definites. For Stephen, all crucial battles are waged with peaceable ferocity within the mind. Fourteen hours later, he will drunkenly declare to British soldiers in “Circe” that “in here [his mind] it is I must kill the priest and the

5  Ibid., 30.

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2 Dalkey

king” (548; 15:4436–37). In “Nestor,” Stephen initiates mental ­hostilities against entrenched historiography by enlisting the poet William Blake, who rejected history as something “[f]abled by the daughters of memory,” in

Joyce’s phrasing (24; 2:7). But Stephen worries that Blake’s skeptical phrase was too impatient. Blake was a “visionary anarchic heresiarch,” Joyce said in 1912, who by “denying the existence of memory and the senses . . . wanted to

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paint his work upon the void of the divine bosom” (OCPW 176, 181). Total erasure of history would render the past as unavailable to the poet as empty catechism does, destroying possibility along with actuality. Ireland may be important because it “belongs” to Stephen (599; 16:1165), but past events are “not to be thought away” (25; 2:49). The appropriating imagination must have real materials to work on. Losing control of the classroom, Stephen employs riddles and puzzles to hold the boys’ attention. Seeing their chance to escape lessons, they beg for a “ghoststory” (25; 2:55). Stephen switches the lesson to “Lycidas,” Milton’s elegy for his former Cambridge schoolmate, Edward King, drowned in the Irish Sea but, in the poem’s final lines, resurrected as the “Genius of the shore,” a tutelary spirit offering protection to sea travelers.6 With the elegy, Stephen artfully gives the boys their ghost story – tragic death and enigmatic return – but his real purpose is to locate an alternative to static, textbook teachings in the elegy’s compensatory rhythm of altered history, its movement of imagination that alchemizes past actualities as possibilities of the poetic present. Milton’s seachanged guardian spirit is a better weapon than Blake’s banished history for Stephen’s campaign against dry-as-dust historiography. This transforming, motile idea of history kindles, for Stephen, a “[t]ranquility sudden, vast, candescent” (26; 2:75–76) – the past as luminous starting point – in place of Blake’s “one livid final flame” (24; 2:10), which threatens to employ imagination as an accelerant to consume historical memory, a violent unremembrance of things past that is really just another kind of intellectual stasis. Joyce’s history-canceling poet can be traced back to a 1902 essay in which he characterized James Clarence Mangan (1803–49) as an Irish author whose mournful, mystical poetry cried out “against the injustice of despoilers” (OCPW 59). Injustice was more than personal affliction to Mangan; it was the pain of a colonized subject. “History encloses him so straitly,” Joyce wrote, “that even his fiery moments do not set him free from it.” For 6  John Milton, “Lycidas,” in Portable Milton, ed. Douglas Bush (New York: Penguin, 1976), 113.

Joyce, Mangan was a type of the romantic spirit that makes a bonfire of history’s tales of horror: “Poetry […] is always a revolt against artifice [and] actuality,” Joyce wrote; it is “at war with its age, so it makes no account of history, which is fabled by the daughters of memory” (OCPW 59). Historical impatience is strong here, a precipitate of Irish colonial servitude. As in Deasy’s schoolhouse, conventional history gave Young Irelanders like Mangan little more than empty fables, forcing them to make mental and actual war on the forms of Irish subjugation.7 The schoolroom in “Nestor” is filled with war, administered to the boys as arid military history, and prosecuted silently within Stephen’s mind as he combats the types of history-writing that Nietzsche called monumental and antiquarian.8 The recitation of “Lycidas” over, Stephen poses a riddle as the boys begin to disperse for hockey. It’s a strange riddle, of traditional Irish stock, that piles up unrelated clues and then springs the inconsequent answer: “The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush” (27; 2:115). The boys wanted a ghost; Stephen has summoned two: the watchful spirit of “Lycidas” and the uncanny corpse of the riddle. Like the answers to Stephen’s historical questions, the riddle’s solution can’t be supplied by thoughtful guesswork; it must be known in advance. Its scripted drollery shares with catechistic history a dependence on foreknown conclusion instead of imaginative problem-solving. The riddle marks a continuation of Stephen’s struggle with personal and public histories. The ghoulish burial theme shows him trying to force his deceased mother back into the grave from which she visits him in nightmares, reproaching him for abandoning the Church’s faith. The fox’s grandmother also figures the kind of static, undead history that haunts Stephen, as it did Joyce. In 1906, after visiting 7  For the nineteenth-century nationalist Young Ireland movement, see James Quinn, Young Ireland and the Writing of Irish History (Dublin: University College Dublin Press, 2015). 8  Friedrich Nietzsche, The Use and Abuse of History, in Thoughts Out of Season, pt ii, trans. Adrian Collins (Edinburgh: T. N. Foulis, 1920), 16–28.

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the ruins of the Roman Forum, Joyce wrote, “Rome reminds me of a man who lives by exhibiting to travellers his grandmother’s corpse” (L II 165). Ancient history as antiquarian profitmaking is not unlike textbook history – a ­display-case specimen unconnected with any vital motion of imagination. Second Movement: Equations The first movement of “Nestor” ends as Stephen punctuates his riddle with a nervous laugh that sends the boys scrambling for their hockey sticks. One student remains behind, a weak, unprepossessing boy named Sargent, whom Deasy has told to rework some algebra problems. After the tense, staccato rhythms of the noisy classroom, this short second movement of the episode slows to a brooding tempo as Stephen watches with pity the graceless boy who sits beside him and grapples with the riddle of algebra. In Joyce’s schema for “Nestor,” Sargent corresponds to Pisistratus, Nestor’s youngest son.9 The image of Stephen and Sargent sitting together recalls Telemachus’s visit to Pylos, where he is given a bed near Pisistratus’s and the next day departs in a chariot with the young prince “at his elbow” (47, 49). “My childhood bends beside me,” Stephen thinks (28; 2:168–69). For a moment, he and Sargent seem to be the same age, united in the secret pain of youth. This, too, echoes Homer. When Pisistratus first meets Telemachus, he remarks that the visitor “is just my age” (36). This brief annihilation of chronological difference is the only moment in “Nestor” when age ceases to matter and the young–old impasse yields to true empathy. For a few minutes, Stephen is no longer a Nestor facing a roomful of boys; and he will not fully become youthful Telemachus until the episode’s third m ­ ovement, his colloquy with Deasy. Communion with the pitiable Sargent jolts Stephen into recollecting that a mother can be a self-sacrificing sustainer of her children. A mother “had borne [Sargent] in her arms and in her heart,” sparing him from being tram-

 9 Gifford, “Ulysses” Annotated, 30.

pled by the world. Is maternal love, Stephen wonders, “[t]he only true thing in life?” (28; 2:140–43). The nightmarish mother who has stalked him in dreams cedes dominion, temporarily, to the nurturing mother, a protector like Lycidas. With a guilty sense of having buried the reality of maternal succor within his obsessive image of the menacing ghost, Stephen thinks again of the fox digging a grave for the corpse of the “poor soul gone to heaven” (28; 2:147–50). The fox’s furtive delving produces a sound – “scraped and scraped” – that is also the sound of Stephen’s pen scratching out the solution to Sargent’s algebra problem (28; 2:149–51). A poet’s scraping pen may treat personal and public histories as burdens to be buried and forgotten, but it may also, in a less impatient gesture, reinscribe them as possibilities candescent with maternal feeling, movements of sympathetic imagination. Movement – resonant throughout “Nestor” as a property of flexible historical thinking – now enters the algebra that Stephen writes out: “Across the page the symbols moved in grave morrice, in the mummery of their letters, wearing quaint caps of squares and cubes” (28; 2:155–56). The equation has become a row of costumed figures stepping to traditional dance forms derived, like algebra, from Moorish-Arabic sources. Their movement is solemn, almost ceremonial; historical possibility has become a placid progress of abstract signs, prefiguring the vast, impersonal astronomies that rotate through the “Ithaca” episode. This calm resting point, a midway equilibrium, concludes the second movement of “Nestor,” as Sargent leaves Stephen to rejoin his classmates at hockey. Third Movement: History, Debts, and God The third movement begins with Stephen inspecting the dusty objects in Deasy’s study: a tray of Stuart coins, a case of apostle spoons, heaps of hollow shells, all of it “dead treasure” (30; 2:215). The dismal décor continues the theme of history as a static exhibition of corpses. On the walls hang a picture of Edward VII as Prince of Wales and yellowed images of racehorses – a museum of orthodox Victorian–Edwardian values presided over

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by Mr Deasy, a fussy, sententious pedagogue of Ulsterite-Tory sympathies. The role of Nestor, tamer of horses, has fully settled on Deasy, framer of horses; and Stephen is now indefeasibly Telemachus for the balance of the episode. The dancing variables of the episode’s young–old equations have come to rest as constants. Like Telemachus in Nestor’s presence, Stephen is outwardly courteous to Deasy, as if the compassion he felt for young Sargent has left him a reserve to spend on his aging employer. As he counts out Stephen’s wages, Deasy lectures him on English pride in frugality and debt-paying. To Deasy’s vision of money circulating in sturdy equations of credit and debt, Stephen silently retorts that coins and currency are an algebra that produces inequalities: “Symbols soiled by greed and misery” (30; 2:227–28). Stephen doubts Deasy’s old wisdom, but holds his tongue and treats the self-satisfied windbag with an amused, deferential irony, punctuated by moments of exasperation. Those moments multiply after the ritual of wage-paying concludes. Yet Stephen partly provokes Deasy’s historical bombast. Aware that Stephen owes money, Deasy hints that personal indebtedness is the product of an Irish habit of freehandedness (“We are a generous people”) and must eventually be called to a reckoning (“but we must also be just”). Stephen rejoins, “I fear those big words […] which make us so unhappy” (31; 2:263–64). In this subtle contest of politicized pronouns, Deasy’s just and generous “we” refers to the Protestant ascendancy in Ireland, with which he identifies, while Stephen’s unhappy “us” signals his own membership in the Catholic majority. Sensing Stephen’s taunt, Deasy launches a stream of historical platitudes, citing his sixty years’ experience of clashes between Protestant and Catholic factions. He offers some confused family history about the British Act of Union of 1800 while twitting Stephen for his supposed Catholic and nationalist bias: “You fenians forget some things” (31; 2:272). In the Odyssey, Athena assures Telemachus that Nestor will tell him “history and no lies” (35). With Deasy, the danger is not that history is

totally fabricated but rather that it is fabled by the daughters of politics. His distortions are a dark caricature of historiography’s creative potential. The poet has the power to reconfigure the past’s actualities, but so has the true political believer. The turn towards politics reminds Deasy of a pet project. He has been urging a cure for an outbreak of cattle disease in Ireland, and he hopes to overcome official inaction by taking his campaign to the press. Stephen reads a letter Deasy has composed, filled with turgid cliché and historical digression, and agrees to try to place it with Dublin newspapers. His worry that Buck Mulligan will now mock him as “the bullockbefriending bard” (36; 2:431) comically evokes Telemachus’s participation in Nestor’s feast of the young heifer, sacrificed with fastidious ceremony to Athena (47–49). Nestor is as insistent on giving the gods their due as Deasy is on paying monetary debts. Deasy sees no humor in his cattle-curing plan. Believing himself the victim of political intrigue, he grows sour and paranoid: “England is in the hands of the jews [… who] are already at their work of destruction” (33; 2:346–50). Stephen tries to deflect this sudden bigotry with an ecumenical axiom of finance: “A merchant […] is one who buys cheap and sells dear, jew or gentile, is he not?” (34; 2:359– 60). The same thought occurred to him in the previous episode when the Englishman Haines indicted “German jews” as Britain’s “national problem.” Saying nothing then, Stephen simply turned his gaze to two men looking out to sea, and thought, “businessman, boatman” (21; 1:669–70). His rebuttal in both cases is implicit; without openly debating Haines or Deasy, he i­ntimates that the ravages of capitalism are the true cause of social decay, not ethnoreligious groups. Deasy is content, however, with his tidy model of a nation made strong by debt-paying subjects and weakened by parasitic foreigners. Catechism has moved from the classroom to Deasy’s study; he has been playing teacher and questioner to Stephen. But slowly, Stephen has begun to pose the questions. Irritated by Deasy’s brusque, m ­ onocausal explanation of the Jewish diaspora (“They sinned against

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the light”), Stephen parries by asking, “Who has not?” (34; 2:361, 373). The historical ­simplifications mouthed by Deasy and Haines enclose him straitly; like Mangan and Blake, he tries to free himself by giving utterance to an impatient phrase: “History,” he tells Deasy, “is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake” (34; 2:377). This is the first time in the episode that Stephen permits himself something more than a mumbled irony or obliquity. It is also a strangely intimate confession. History is Stephen’s personal incubus, a ghost compounded of guilt over rejecting his mother (the mère that comes in the night) and the intolerable givens of history: Irish subjection, nationalist politics, and the Church’s doctrine of sin. Deasy replies characteristically: “All human history moves towards one great goal, the manifestation of God” (34; 2:380–81). Where Stephen’s idea of history is personalized, Deasy’s is pontificated; his textbook Victorian affirmation recalls Tennyson’s “one far-off divine event, / To which the whole creation moves.”10 This is history as dogma and externality, divorced from personal experience and responsibility, resembling Haines’s flippant gloss on Irish subjugation: “It seems history is to blame” (20; 1:649). Nettled by Deasy’s Godin-history, Stephen gestures towards the hockey field: “That is God […] A shout in the street” (34; 2:383–86). His point is that history is not to be sought in divine goals, but instead in random human acts and ambitions, like the boys’ hockey goals scored amid shouts and whistles: “Hooray! Ay! Whrrwhee!” (34; 2:384). In rejecting nightmare historiography, Stephen takes a step towards actualizing the possible – reimagining the real, the having-happened, as something other than an arithmetic progression of temporality ending in God. Deasy quickly returns to grandiose pronouncement, this time about the allegedly destructive role of women in history: Eve, Helen, Devorgilla, Katharine O’Shea. In the Odyssey, Nestor tells of Clytemnestra’s sexual betrayal of her husband Menelaus (42–44), 10  Alfred Tennyson, In Memoriam A.H.H., in Selected Poetry, ed. Douglas Bush (New York: Modern Library, 1951), 240.

but Deasy outdoes his mythical counterpart in the generalizing intensity of his misogynist historiography. Yet there is pathos here as well: winding down like a tired toy, Deasy admits to being a “struggler now at the end of my days” (35; 2:395). Stephen, tired himself and uneager for further battle, begins to take his leave. In each of the episode’s three movements, historical thinking is itself a kind of movement. In the opening section, Stephen fights free of the extremes of great-man history and Blakean anti-historicism by treating the past as actuality that may be imagined, not away, but differently, a curve of emotion that bends towards possibility. The slow intermezzo sustains this mood as Stephen, exchanging the terror of night-mère for the sustenance of idée-mère, pictures the actual-possible of history as mathematical signs moving placidly in homely procession.11 In the final movement, Deasy imperiously force-marches history in teleological captivity to divine authority. This is dictated motion, not the play of imagination. In Deasy’s philosophy, whatever is, is ­ supernaturally good. Winners and losers of history are fixed integers in God’s slow-­ moving plan, not variables dancing a delicate algebra. The only thing that can be known is that His unknowable plan is right, beyond all mortal influence or analysis. When Stephen ventures heresy by apotheosizing a random shout in the street, he is seeking to restore the movement of possibility to time, history, and memory, and thus to rouse himself from history’s nightmare. The Nightmare of War in “Nestor” Narrative, like history, is movement. Realist fiction mimics the motions of history-writing. The narration of a real or imagined past presupposes an author, in the present, recording events with thoughtful selection and coordination. For the historian, the act of narrating takes place, ideally, in a clean room 11  The young Joyce used idée-mère to mean leitmotif or guiding imaginative idea. See Richard Ellmann, James Joyce, rev. ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1982), 60.

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uncontaminated by the present. The careful historian shuns presentism – the use of the past to ventriloquize contemporary preoccupations – as a pernicious form of anachronism. But Joyce, who was both historian and inventor of 1904 Dublin, built a mimesis capacious enough to accommodate both the narrated past and the narrating present. This double movement is poignantly seen in the presence of the First World War in “Nestor,” which Joyce completed in late 1917.12 As scholars have noted, the trauma of the war can be glimpsed in the Edwardian setting of Deasy’s schoolhouse – an uncanny, anticipatory kind of storytelling that is yet faithful to the nightmare of the compositional moment.13 Complaints like Stephen’s that history had become a personal nightmare were common after war broke upon the placid summer of 1914. D. H. Lawrence wrote in August 1914, “I can’t get away from [the war] for a minute: live in a sort of coma, like one of those nightmares when you can’t move.”14 He later gave the title “The Nightmare” to the chapter on the war in his novel, Kangaroo (1923). That same August, Henry James declared, “Life goes on after a fashion, but I find it a nightmare from which there is no waking save by sleep.”15 The brutality of war, James thought, had exposed the falsity of previous Deasy-like assumptions about history’s direction, betraying “the whole long age during which we have supposed the world to be, with whatever abatement, gradu12  Ibid., 419. 13  See E. L. Epstein, “Nestor,” in James Joyce’s “Ulysses”: Critical Essays, ed. Clive Hart and David Hayman (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974), 17–28; James Fairhall, James Joyce and the Question of History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 161– 213; Paul K. Saint-Amour, Tense Future: Modernism, Total War, Encyclopedic Form (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 233–36; Robert Spoo, “‘Nestor’ and the Nightmare: The Presence of the Great War in Ulysses,” Twentieth Century Literature 32 (1986), 137–54. 14  Lawrence to Edward Marsh, August 25, 1914, in Letters of D. H. Lawrence, vol. ii, ed. George J. Zytaruk and James T. Boulton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 211. 15  James to Edith Wharton, August 19, 1914, in Letters of Henry James, vol. ii, ed. Percy Lubbock (New York: Octagon Books, 1970), 391.

ally bettering.”16 For James, history’s bad faith rendered the “subject-matter” of fiction-­ writing “utterly treacherous and false – its relation to reality utterly given away.” How, he ­wondered, could a writer depict pre-1914 life without accounting for the “horrific capability” of European war that was “historically latent, historically ahead of it?”17 How, then, could Joyce, in 1917, portray the Dublin of 1904 without being complicit with the treacherous years? How reconstruct an Ireland untouched by the dormant horror of war? The answer was to bring the war directly into Deasy’s schoolhouse, to register the coming conflict in jarring images of violence and carnage. For example, Stephen, teaching from a “gorescarred book,” imagines “the ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry” (24; 2:9–13). The hockey-playing boys, in their “mimic warfare” (SH 34), evoke the “slush and uproar of battles, the frozen deathspew of the slain” and “men’s bloodied guts” (32; 2:314– 18). The student Talbot props a book “under the breastwork of his satchel” (referring to a low defense or parapet) (25; 2:61–62). Deasy’s cattle-cure letter has phrases like “European conflagration” (33; 2:327). Stephen himself is a kind of officer leading boys who in ten years’ time will be of enlistment age. Deasy, like the obtuse generals assailed in the war poetry of Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen, shouts with “his old man’s voice” at the boys on the field, “without listening” (29; 2:189, 193). The boy whom Stephen pities for his “unreadiness” and vulnerability to being “trampled” like a “squashed boneless snail” is named Sargent (27–28; 2:125, 141–42). (His Homeric double, Pisistratus, is “captain of spearmen” [49].) On Deasy’s orders, Stephen drills Sargent and then sends him back to the hockey trenches amid “battling bodies” and “the joust of life” (32; 2:314– 15). The presence of the First World War in “Nestor” is a ghostly reminder that presentism is no lapse when conscientious history-telling must acknowledge latent global nightmare.

16  James to Howard Sturgis, August 5, 1914, ibid., 384. 17  James to Hugh Walpole, February 15, 1915, ibid., 446 (italics in original).

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The past tense properly inscribes the tense future.18 Joyce’s realism thus went beyond George Eliot’s exhortation to depict “people as they are.”19 In his gritty rendering of 1904 Dubliners, he duly avoided what she called “the unreality of […] representations,”20 but he also shunned a sterile verisimilitude by admitting into his chosen past the shadow of its catastrophic future – a grim kind of dramatic irony. Joyce’s mythical method – described by T. S. Eliot as “a continuous parallel between contemporaneity and antiquity” – consists here of three dimensions: Homeric antiquity, anarchic contemporaneity, nightmarish propinquity.21 This is yet another way in which history is movement in “Nestor.” The historical actuality of 1904 is multiply mobilized by the cruel actual-possible of 1917; narrated events bear the wounds of an uncanny temporality. Nestor the Jester As Stephen exits the schoolhouse, Deasy stops him for a parting word: Ireland never persecuted the Jews, he quips, because “she never let them in” (36; 2:442). This desperate prank – the last of the episode’s riddles – features Deasy as history’s jester, giving a final shake to his bauble. Stephen worries that he himself is not immune from such pathetic performances. Earlier, challenging his students to answer a riddle about a “pier,” he imagines himself repeating it later for Haines’s entertainment: “A jester at the court of his master, indulged and disesteemed, winning a clement master’s praise” (25; 2:43–45). Stephen dreads playing Irish jester to political and social masters – a condescending Englishman or a roomful of well-off, Protestant boys. He 18  See Saint-Amour, Tense Future, 20–21, 233–36. 19  George Eliot, “Natural History of German Life,” in Essays of “George Eliot,” ed. Nathan Sheppard (New York: Funk and Wagnalls, 1883), 144. 20  Ibid. 21  T. S. Eliot, “Ulysses, Order, and Myth,” in Selected Prose of T. S. Eliot, ed. Frank Kermode (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1975), 177.

asks himself why the Irish had “chosen all that part” (25; 2:45), and he answers that the choice was compelled by the history of colonialism: “For them too history was a tale like any other too often heard, their land a pawnshop” (25; 2:46–47). “They” are Irish authors who sought fame abroad: Oliver Goldsmith, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Jonathan Swift, George Moore, George Bernard Shaw, and Oscar Wilde – writers who “adopted the English language … and almost forgot their native country” (OCPW 122). Wilde, Joyce observed, was “court jester to the English,” at times so poor that he visited “the pawnbroker’s shop,” at other times “scatter[ing] his gold among a succession of unworthy friends” (OCPW 149). Caught between privileged students and a patronizing Ulster-Scot employer, Stephen fears that he, too, is simply an allowed fool, a casualty of colonial history’s assignment of roles. But just now it is Deasy, the Tory Irishman, who sports the jester’s pied colors: “garish sunshine bleach[es] the honey of his illdyed head,” as he steps on “gaitered feet” (29; 2: 197–98, 186). With his valedictory jest about the Jews, he fully inhabits the checkered motley: “On his wise shoulders through the checkerwork of leaves the sun flung spangles, dancing coins” (36; 2:448–49). For “wise shoulders,” read “fool’s shoulders.” Deasy’s imperial master, figured as the unsetting sun, tosses him coins in mocking thanks for his service. Later, Nestor the jester will return in the nightmare comedy of “Circe,” where, in a hallucinatory horserace, Deasy appears as a jockey dressed in an Anglo-Irish motley of “honey cap, green jacket, orange sleeves,” and drenched in a soup of “dancing coins of carrots, barley, onions, turnips, potatoes” (533; 15:3981, 3991–92). Astride a tired nag, Deasy is a struggling rider at the end of his days, jogging across the one great goal of the finish line – dead last. Just as Stephen shares with Deasy the role of Nestor, he is also a candidate for the jester’s motley. His fear is that, like the old headmaster who bows before his English master, he himself might yield to the temptations of ease and convention and become a performing man of letters. History is a nightmare because it

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tempts even the most brilliant and promising, like Wilde, to accept comfortable, subservient roles, just before it destroys them. “Nestor” ends on a cautionary note, a reminder that, like any joke too often heard, history moves by

repetition and rewards conformity – a nightmare that will persist until actualities, imposed or accepted, are altered by movements of the possible.

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G 2:20

Tarentum: Greek colony in lower Italy attacked by the Romans in the third century bce. Fabled by the daughters of memory: in A Vision of the Last Judgment (1810), William Blake (1757–1827) writes “Fable or Allegory is Form’d by the daughters of Memory”; he refers to imagination as representing eternal truth; the nine Muses are the daughters of Mnemosyne (memory) and Zeus. Blake’s wings of excess: combination of two “Proverbs of Hell” from Blake’s The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (1790–93): “The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom” and “No bird soars too high,

if he soars with his own wings.” ruin of all […] one livid final flame: the sanctifying conflagration of the world in Blake’s The Marriage of Heaven and Hell; in Blake’s 1800 letter: “every Mortal loss is an immortal gain. The ruins of Time build mansions in Eternity.” Asculum […] Another victory like that […]: Pyrrhus’s (c.318–272 bce) reputed declaration having defeated the Romans at Asculum in 279 bce at great cost to the Tarentines. Vico Road, Dalkey: coastal road, named after vicolo, a narrow path, or after Italian philosopher Giambattista Vico (1688–1744).

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G 2:40

G 2:60

by a beldam’s hand: Plutarch reports, in The Parallel Lives, that Pyrrhus was killed after his antagonist’s mother dropped a rooftile on him. Julius Caesar: (c.102–44 bce) was stabbed to death by a group of Roman senators who feared he had become a dictator. the infinite possibilities they have ousted: Aristotle’s

theory, in Metaphysics, of the relationship between what exists now and other, unrealized possibilities. weave: to pursue a devious course; see 21. Weep no more: from Lycidas (1638), an elegy by John Milton (1608–74) for his friend, Edward King, in which he declares that King will rise again.

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G 2:80

an actuality of the possible as possible: in Aristotle’s theory of change, actuality is the realization of potential. Saint Genevieve: Parisian library where Joyce studied in 1903. Siamese: a native of Siam, now Thailand. dragon scaly folds: from William Morris’s Earthly Paradise, “The dragon slothfully drags her scaly folds.” Thought is the thought of thought: from Aristotle’s Metaphysics. the soul is the form of forms:

according to Aristotle, in De Anima, the soul is the form of forms because it can assimilate the essences (or “forms”) of everything it understands. Through the dear might of Him […]: Jesus in Milton’s Lycidas. To Caesar what is Caesar’s, to God […]: Jesus’s distinction between earthly and spiritual duties (Mark 12:17). Riddle me […]: the opening lines of a riddle about writing a letter.

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G 2:100

G 2:120

The cock crew: nonsense riddle; see P. W. Joyce’s English as We Speak it in Ireland (1910); Stephen has changed “mother” to “grandmother.”

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G 2:140

G 2:160

The only true thing in life?: Cranly tells Stephen in A Portrait: “Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother’s love is not” (P 203–4). fiery Columbanus: Irish saint (543–615) who established monasteries in France. rapine: violent robbery. morrice: morris, lively traditional English dance performed in formation. mummery: ridiculous, hypocritical, or excessive ceremony. imps of fancy of the Moors: eighth-century northwestern African Muslims devised the Hindu-Arabic number

system. Averroes and Moses Maimonides: Muslim philosopher (1126–98) and Jewish philosopher (1135–1204) both of whose commentaries on Aristotle spread his philosophy to European medieval scholastics. soul of the world: unifying natural force according to Italian philosopher Giordano Bruno (1548–1600). a darkness shining in brightness […]: inversion of the description of God in John 1:4–5. Amor matris: Latin, “love of or for the mother.”

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G 2:180

G 2:200

gaitered: wearing cloth coverings on the ankles. As it was in the beginning, is now: conclusion of the Gloria Patri, which ends “and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.” sideboard: piece of furniture with cupboards, drawers, or shelves. Stuart coins: after his deposition in the Glorious Revolution of

1688, the former King James II (1633–1701) fled to Ireland and minted coins in inferior metals which lowered the Irish currency. spooncase […] twelve apostles: Deasy has a collection of twelve spoons with Jesus’s apostles on their handles. world without end: from the Gloria Patri.

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G 2:220

G 2:240 delete fullstop after poet

mortar: bowl in which materials are ground. whelks and money cowries and leopard shells: three kinds of shells. scallop of Saint James: shell associated with the saint and the pilgrimage to his shrine in Compostela, Spain. If youth but knew: proverb, “If youth but knew what age would crave, it would at once both get and save.” Put but money in thy purse: Iago to Roderigo in

Shakespeare’s Othello (i.iii.347). Iago: villain of Othello (1603). That on his empire, Stephen said, the sun never sets: attributed to Xerxes in Herodotus’ Histories (440 bce), and later to Charles V (1500–58), Hapsburg King and Holy Roman Emperor; also used in later descriptions of empires. It is not clear whom Deasy means by A French Celt in his next remark, p. 31.

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for Goood read Good

for borard read board G 2:260

G 2:280

filibegs: kilt. the famine: also known as the Great Famine, period of mass starvation in Ireland in the late 1840s, brought on by potato blight and dispossession and exacerbated by British policies. orange lodges: branches of a Protestant Unionist fraternal order in Northern Ireland. prelates of your communion: Catholic bishops. fenians: nationalist rebels and/or members of revolutionary republican organizations, including the Irish Republican Brotherhood. Glorious, pious and immortal memory: Orangeman’s toast to William III. lodge of Diamond […]: in 1795, Orangemen killed over

twenty Catholics who demonstrated against their displacement from the county of Armagh. the planters’ covenant: oath of political and religious loyalty to the English Crown demanded of English and Scottish settlers in Ireland. Croppies lie down: refrain of ballads demanding Catholic rebels submit to British rule. spindle side: female side. all kings’ sons: Irish proverb, “All Irishmen are kings’ sons.” Per rectas vias: Latin, “by the straight roads”; motto of the Blackwood family. Lal the ral: chorus from “The Rocky Road to Dublin,” a ballad of mistreatment and retaliation.

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G 2:300

G 2:320

lord Hastings’ Repulse […] prix de Paris, 1866: prize-winning horses and their aristocratic owners. brakes: bridle or curb. motley slush. Fair Rebel! Fair Rebel! Even money the favourite: ten to one (G, correction, inclusion).

thimbleriggers: professional sharps who cheat by tricks or phrases. clove: segment. crawsick: hungover. foot and mouth disease: highly contagious disease affecting mainly cattle, sheep, pigs, and other clovenfooted animals.

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G 2:340

laissez faire: theory that government should not interfere in trade and industrial affairs. Liverpool ring […] Galway harbour scheme: conjecture that the attempt to establish Galway Harbour as a transatlantic port was sabotaged by supporters of Liverpool shipping interests. European conflagration: European war. pluterperfect: utterly perfect; quintessential. Cassandra: daughter of King Priam of Troy whose prediction of the fall of Troy was ignored. a woman

who was no better: Helen, wife of Menelaus, was given as a reward by Aphrodite to Paris for judging the goddess more beautiful than Hera and Athena; Paris took Helen to Troy, sparking the Trojan War. Koch’s preparation […] Serum […] salted horses: ineffective treatments for foot and mouth disease. Rinderpest: disease affecting cattle and other ruminants. The harlot’s cry […] : from William Blake’s “Auguries of Innocence” (c.1804) (lines 115–16).

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G 2:360

for bellied read belied

for gave a read gave G 2:380

They sinned against the light […] wanderers on the earth: notion that the Jews’ failure to recognize Jesus as the Messiah led to their exile, as represented in the story of Ahasuerus, the Wandering Jew, who mocked Christ on his way to crucifixion. History is a nightmare: from Jules Laforgue’s (1860–87) Mélanges posthumes (1903): “History is an old and gaudy nightmare that does not suspect that the best jokes are also the shortest,” or from Karl Marx’s (1818–83), The Eighteenth Brumaire

of Louis Bonaparte (1852): “The tradition of all the dead generations weighs like a nightmare on all the living.” All human history moves towards […] : German philosopher G. W. F. Hegel’s (1770–1831) understanding of world history as the emergence of God, or absolute reason. A woman brought sin into the world: Eve, according to partial reading of Genesis. A faithless wife: Deasy gets things backwards; see O’Rourke, Prince of Breffni in the Index of Recurrent Characters.

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G 2:400

delete dialogue dash

G 2:420

For Ulster will fight: rallying cry of militant Unionists in Northern Ireland, coined by Lord Randolph Spencer Churchill (1849–95) against Gladstone’s Home Rule Bill in 1886. Telegraph: The Evening Telegraph, a nationalist Irish newspaper, established in 1871. Irish Homestead: weekly newspaper of the Irish Agricultural Organization Society, established in 1895. Mr Field,

M. P.: William Field, a member of Parliament and president of the Irish Cattle Traders and Stock Owners Association. to break a lance with: enter into competition with. lions couchant on the pillars: the reclining lions suggest the Royal Arms of England, which has three lions passant, guardant (walking with the right foot raised).

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G 2:440

never persecuted the Jews […] never let them in: According to Thom’s Directory for 1904, there were 2,296 Jews resident in Leinster in 1901. The 1901

Census recorded 3,898 Jews in Ireland, an increase of over two thousand since 1891.

3 · “PROTEUS” Sam Slote

For first-time readers of Ulysses, “Proteus” can come as a bit of a shock. The first two episodes, despite some subtle complexities, might make it seem as if Ulysses’ reputation as a difficult book was a bit of an exaggeration. Such a happy impression is quickly dispelled by the first paragraph of “Proteus,” which, bereft of almost any context, immerses the reader within Stephen’s thoughts. Like the shape-shifting Proteus who struggles against Menelaus’s attempts to pin him down in Book 4 of the Odyssey, the first paragraph resists immediate comprehension. True to the spirit of what A. Walton Litz calls “expressive form” – where form expresses or imitates content1 – the difficulty of this paragraph is very much relevant to Joyce’s artistic aims in both “Proteus” and Ulysses as a whole. With its inscrutable first paragraph, in “Proteus,” Joyce is training his readers to read Ulysses. Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a millionaire,

1  A. Walton Litz, The Art of James Joyce (London: Oxford University Press, 1964), 44.

maestro di color che sanno. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers throught [sic] it, it is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see. (37; 3:1–9)2

A non-trivial problem with the first paragraph is the lack of any clarifying context, but snippets of contextualization do emerge as the paragraph progresses, which, in turn, allow some clarification on what has come before. On its own, the phrase “Ineluctable modality of the visible” is just shy of comprehensibility. One might well know each word individually, but taken in concert they do not seem to add up to anything. One first ray of light comes at the start of the second paragraph, with an unambiguous shift to third-person narration: “Stephen closed his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and shells” (37; 3:10–11). This makes it clear that we are dealing with Stephen, who is walking somewhere, presumably a beach, and is thinking about the nature of perception, specifically hearing, in the second paragraph (further indicated through some onomatopoeia). Looking back on the first paragraph, one can now understand that its subject is vision and visibility. (This all might be intuitable with just the first 2  The “throught” is one of the many textual errors in the first edition: it appeared on the first placard, or galley proof (JJA 17:43) and was corrected to “through” for the 1923 Egoist Press printing.

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4 Strand Road, Sandymount

paragraph, but the second does help clear it up.) The reader is in the dark as Stephen thinks about vision and light. This paragraph could well serve as an object lesson of the hermeneutic circle, the idea that one understands the whole through each of its parts and, likewise, the parts are only understood through the whole.3 This, of course, all seems impossibly tautological until one realizes that the understanding of whole and part is not unchanging. One’s understanding of the whole is revised as one experiences more individual parts and, likewise, one’s understanding of the individual parts changes according to the evolving context. The act of understanding is a work in progress, an ongoing dialogue between whole and part. The hermeneutic circle is resolved by dynamically interactive interpretation, in what is called in “Sirens” in a

3  C. Mantzavinos, “Hermeneutics,” The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2016 edition), ed. Edward N. Zalta, https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/ win2016/entries/hermeneutics. Accessed February 5, 2021.

phrase that recurs with variations throughout Ulysses, “harking back in a retrospective sort of arrangement” (266; 11:798). Reading Ulysses, especially passages like this one, requires rereading and retrospective arrangement. So, returning to the first paragraph, Stephen is thinking about the nature of visual perception in terms of the things that he is seeing on the beach, “seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot.” A complication comes with the phrase “But he adds: in bodies.” Some as-of-yet anonymous other agency is involved here. This he is somewhat specified two lines later: “Bald he was and a millionaire.” There are plenty of bald millionaires so this is not too helpful, but it is a restriction of sorts (for example, Marx, among others, is ruled out). But next comes the clue (or clou) that, in turn, helps sort out this muddle: “maestro di color che sanno.”4 This is the epithet Dante gives to Aristotle in Inferno iv.131 to signify that Aristotle ranks paramount amongst philosophers, the ­master 4  Dante Alighieri, La Divina Commedia, ed. Fredi Chiappelli (Milan: Mursia, 1965).

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3 Sandymount Strand

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among those who know.5 So, thanks to the Dantean allusion, we can now see that Stephen is specifically thinking about Aristotle’s conception of visual perception. For Aristotle, color is the ineluctable modality of the visible, that is, color is the characteristic of matter that enables it to be seen. From On the Soul: “the object of sight is the visible, and what is visible is colour.”6 And so, Stephen is conceptualizing the objects he sees as their colors: “Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust.” On the one hand, there is the qualia, the subjective perception of the phenomena he encounters, the colors that he then understands as objects in the external world: “thought through my eyes.” On the other hand, there are the objects themselves in the world, independent of perceptions, objects that are themselves colored: “Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured.” Since color enables visibility, without color an object would be transparent, that is, diaphanous. In De Sensu et Sensibili, Aristotle writes: “But it is manifest that, when the transparent [diaphanous] is in determinate bodies, its bounding extreme must be something real; and that color is just this something we are plainly taught by facts – color being actually either at the limit, or being itself that limit, in bodies.”7 Stephen is using Aristotle’s theories to diagnose and define the interplay between the objective, exterior world and the subjective, interior world. Stephen’s thoughts are in a kind of dialogue between mind and

5  Stephen’s claim that Aristotle was a bald millionaire is not inaccurate: Aristotle’s father, a royal physician, died when he was young, thereby leaving him with a significant inheritance; see George Henry Lewes, Aristotle (London: Smith, Elder, 1864), 6. While there are various accounts of his appearance, none mentions his hair, or lack thereof. Some of his comments could be taken to imply that he was bald; for example, in the Metaphysics, he argues that “baldness is not a mutilation”; see Aristotle, Complete Works, ed. Jonathan Barnes, trans. W. D. Ross (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984), vol. ii, 1552–1728, 1024a27.

world. He is, in a sense, walking the hermeneutic circle, on Sandymount Strand. While Aristotle provides the main philosophical current to Stephen’s thoughts, there are some colors from other sources. The phrase “signatures of all things” – used to refer to the phenomena Stephen perceives and intellects – is the title of a treatise by the sixteenth-century German mystic Jacob Boehme.8 Furthermore, the phrase “knocking his sconce against them” recalls Samuel Johnson’s rebuttal of (what he believes to be) Berkeley’s refutation of the external world. One day, walking with Boswell, Johnson claimed that he could disprove Berkeleyan solipsism by simply kicking a large stone, thereby establishing the facticity of a material, external world.9 Furthermore, the penultimate sentence of the paragraph alludes to Johnson’s (helpful) definition of the distinction between a door and a gate in his famous dictionary: “Door is used of houses and gates of cities, or publick buildings, except in the licence of poetry.”10 These additional references are more than simply decorative flourishes since they slide into each other. The first word, ineluctable, carries a fair amount of weight here. Its literal meaning of “From which one cannot escape by struggling” (OED) suggests Homer’s slippery Proteus. Furthermore, the suggestion of the Latin word lux (light) is not inappropriate considering Stephen’s disquisition on vision; illumination is also requisite to the ineluctable modality of the visible. But the word also anticipates the allusion to Jacob Boehme, who claimed in The Signature of All Things that “The Being of all beings is a wrestling power.”11 Likewise, the quotation from Dante that conclusively identifies Aristotle is anticipated by

8  Joyce owned Clifford Bax’s translation from 1912; see Richard Ellmann, The Consciousness of Joyce (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977), 102. 9  James Boswell, Life of Samuel Johnson (London: Richardson, 1823), vol. i, 403.

6  Aristotle, On the Soul, trans. J. A. Smith, in Complete Works, vol. i, 641–92, 418a27–30.

10  Samuel Johnson, Dictionary of the English Language (London: Longman, Hurts, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1818).

7  Aristotle, De Sensu et Sensibili, trans. J. I. Beare, in Complete Works, vol. i, 693–713, 439a29–30.

11  Jacob Boehme, The Signature of All Things, trans. Clifford Bax (London: Dent, 1912), 91.

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the line “Bald he was and a millionaire,” which paraphrases and translates Dante’s description of Manfred in Purgatorio iii.107: “biondo era e bello,” “blond he was, and handsome.” In this paragraph, reference is protean as it shifts, segues, and transforms. The episode ends with a compact and elegant instance of metamorphosis and shifting reference: “God becomes man becomes fish becomes barnacle goose becomes featherbed mountain” (49; 3:32–33). Along with the individual transformations, the very terms of metamorphosis are also mutable. The first instance, “God becomes man,” is an example of God’s incarnation as Christ. The second, “man becomes fish,” is Christ being symbolized as a fish. The third, “fish becomes barnacle goose,” refers to the medieval legend which held that barnacle geese are the offspring of the barnacles that cling to wet timber (the line also nods to Nora). The fourth, “fish becomes featherbed mountain,” conflates two different changes. First is the humble physical process of taking goose feathers to make a featherbed. But this is confused by the pun with the Featherbed Mountains, elevated moorlands between the Dublin Mountains and the Wicklow Mountains. And so, in this brief sentence, the transformation changes from metaphysical to symbolic, to the superstitious, to the physical merged with the linguistic. Beyond reading the signatures of all things, misreading the signatures of various things has a part to play. As Fritz Senn has commented, a reader could easily misread maestro di color che sanno as meaning something along the lines of the master of color, especially since color is such a prevalent subject in the first paragraph. (The word “color” is an older Italian word for “those”; contemporary Italian uses colui.) This incorrect association is actually not without relevance. Senn writes: “‘Proteus’ is about the treacherous relation between appearance and essence, semblance and reality. The wrong sense of ‘color’ seems to be more vital than the essential one.”12 In the dialogue between subject and its outer world, there are, inevitably, mismatches and misprisions.

The importance of the first paragraph lies not so much in the specific allusions, but in how it shows Joyce teaching his readers how to read Ulysses, that is, how to negotiate through and against the various layers of reference (which are sometimes deliberately opaque) in order to achieve a multi-perspectival understanding of the text. In this, the Homeric parallel perhaps works better in terms of the reader’s predicament than with Stephen. The plot of “Proteus” is utterly simple: Stephen walks on a beach and thinks about various things and it’s unclear from just this episode if he resolves anything. In the Odyssey, Menelaus successfully pins down the god Proteus, thereby compelling him to impart key information. Like Menelaus, the reader is tackling, wrestling with something that is everchanging. In this, the first paragraph’s difficulty is very much an instance of expressive form. Just as Stephen is thinking about the nature of perception and intellection, the difficulty of this passage coaxes the (attentive) reader into thinking about the nature of interpretation, of understanding the words on the page, or the “Signs on a white field” (48; 3:416), as Stephen puts it later in the episode when he revisits and revises his earlier contemplations on modalities ineluctable:

12  Fritz Senn, Inductive Scrutinies, ed. Christine O’Neill (Dublin: Lilliput, 1995), 137.

13  George Berkeley, A New Theory of Vision, ed. A. D. Lindsay (London: Dent, 1910), 73.

Who watches me here? Who ever anywhere will read these written words? Signs on a white field. Somewhere to someone in your flutiest voice. The good bishop of Cloyne took the veil of the temple out of his shovel hat: veil of space with coloured emblems hatched on its field. Hold hard. Coloured on a flat: yes, that’s right. Flat I see, then think distance, near, far, flat I see, east, back. Ah, see now: Falls back suddenly, frozen in stereoscope. (48; 3:414–20)

Not unlike Aristotle, Berkeley argued that rather than see objects as such, humans perceive colored signs which are only subsequently interpreted as physical objects: “in a strict sense, I see nothing but light and colours, with their several shades and variations.”13 Elsewhere, Berkeley proposed that the eye perceives the world two-dimensionally only as if

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it were a completely flat vista. Distance is then suggested into the field of vision by a habitual mental operation. Distance is thus not seen but thought.14 As Stephen posits, Berkeley’s conception of depth perception is compatible with the modern understanding of stereoscopic depth perception. Analogously, Stephen’s Berkeleyan thought parallactically combines with his earlier contemplation of Aristotle to educe a deeper, more nuanced understanding of vision. Stephen thus arrives at a re-vision of his earlier thoughts about the nature of vision, seeing them again, from a different perspective, thereby changing and modifying his understanding about the nature of vision. This itself illustrates how the hermeneutic circle is a continual act of re-vision, of changing interpretation and understanding. Beyond Stephen’s various “abstrusiosities” (45; 3:320), there are a few reasonably concrete specificities within “Proteus.” For example, his location and trajectory are, for the most part, easy enough to plot through Joyce’s judicious use of a select few topographic markers. As the episode begins, Stephen is by Leahy’s Terrace (38; 3:29) and is heading northward to his Aunt Sara’s house at Strasburg Terrace. Absentminded, he goes too far (41; 3:158) and then turns eastward along the south wall (42; 3:206) and, later, goes by Cock Lake (49; 3:453), a tidal inlet just off Sandymount Strand.15 But the objective, cartographic world of “Proteus” is overlaid with Stephen’s various subjective impressions of “walking into eternity along Sandymount Strand” (37; 3:18–19). Indeed, at low tide, the sands stretch out a great distance, which can convey a more imaginative impression of the infinite. In combining objective and subjective landscapes, “Proteus” can be seen as an exercise in what the French philosopher and filmmaker Guy Debord calls “psychogeography,” that is, the creative transformation of the (typically urban) environment in response to 14  Ibid., 15. 15  The area of beach where Stephen walks has since been filled in and urbanized. For more detail on the topography of this episode, see Ian Gunn, “Stephen’s Stroll on the Strand,” James Joyce Online Notes, www.jjon .org/joyce-s-environs/sandymount. Accessed February 5, 2021.

mood and psychological state, a palimpsest of mind over matter.16 Psychogeography indicates a kind of expressive form between an objectively sensible landscape and a supposedly incommunicable inner mind, where each responds to and expresses the other. Like Samuel Johnson, Stephen is “knocking his sconce” against the world and, in so doing, engages in its reconfiguration. Stephen’s perspectives upon the beach, informed by his visions and revisions, by the signatures of all the things he reads and misreads, yields a human world, a world of his imagination. Fortunately, for most of the rest of the episode, Stephen’s thoughts are not as dense and reference-laden as they are on the first page. After his initial meditations on perception and maternity, he imagines what his anticipated visit to his aunt Sara’s might be like. This extended passage shows Stephen’s eye for specific detail and a certain, perhaps even surprising, degree of empathy for his relatives, as well as the undercurrent of his ever-present storm and stress in the wake of his mother’s death, “Houses of decay, mine, his and all” (40; 3:105). Unsurprisingly, his thoughts turn back to himself and, as he realizes he has walked past the way to his aunt’s, his thoughts turn to Paris, prompted by the Pigeonhouse, an electrical generating station, so-called because it stands on the site of a watch-house in which lived a man named John Pidgeon.17 The reason for this seemingly abrupt transition is a line from Léo Taxil’s blasphemous parody La Vie de Jésus, which Stephen had read during his Parisian sojourn, in which Mary reassures Joseph that her pregnancy was not the result of her having been unfaithful, but rather, “C’est le pigeon, Joseph” (41; 3:162), it was the pigeon (the Holy Ghost,

16  “The sectors of a city are, at a certain level, decipherable. But the personal meaning they have had for us is incommunicable, like all that clandestinity of private life regarding which we possess nothing but pitiful documents”; Guy Debord, “Critique of Separation,” in Society of the Spectacle and Other Films, ed. and trans. Richard Parry (London: Rebel Press, 1992), 47–48. 17  Weston St John Joyce, The Neighbourhood of Dublin (Dublin: M. H. Gill & Son, 1912), 7.

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which is traditionally depicted as a dove).18 Through the lexical association prompted by the Pigeonhouse, a mundane industrial building, Stephen superimposes a landscape of Parisian reminiscences over Sandymount Strand. The Pigeonhouse thus becomes a kind of knot between two geographies, one mental and the other physical. The Pigeonhouse is not the only bridge that enables a doubling of landscape, of seeing the one in and against the other in a kind of double- or re-vision. One further modality of revision throughout the episode is the persistence of traces of the past within the present, the residual detritus mired in the sands, as Stephen thinks: “These heavy sands are language tide and wind have silted here” (44; 3:288–89). The landscape of the past is indicated by the landscape of the present. In a sense, Stephen is an archivist or genealogist, seeing the past through the traces left in the present, as he thinks of an event from 1331 when a shoal of whales was stranded near his present position by the Dodder’s mouth at the South Wall: A school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noon, spouting, hobbling in the shallows. Then from the starving cagework city a horde of jerkined dwarfs, my people, with flayers’ knives, running, scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. Famine, plague and slaughters. Their blood is in me, their lusts my waves. I moved among them on the frozen Liffey, that I, a changeling, among the spluttering resin fires. (45; 3:303–8)19

Walking by the South Wall, Stephen mentally superimposes an imagined historical scene upon Sandymount Strand, with its “Unwholesome

18  Léo Taxil, La Vie de Jésus (Paris: Librairie anticléricale, 1884), 15. 19  Thom’s Dublin Annals entry for the year 1331 writes of “A great famine relieved by a prodigious shoal of fish, called Turlehydes, being cast on shore at the mouth of the Dodder. They were from 30 to 40 feet long, and so thick that men standing on each side of one of them, could not see those on the other. Upwards of 200 of them were killed by the people”; Thom’s Official Directory of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland (Dublin: Thom’s, 1904), 2092.

sandflats” (41; 3:150), that is, the beach contaminated by raw sewage.20 Likewise, Kevin Egan, the former Fenian Stephen met in Paris, is one such living relic of the past that Stephen remembers: “They have forgotten Kevin Egan, not he them. Remembering thee, O Sion” (44; 3:264–65). Just as Stephen’s contemplation of vision is refracted through various orders of re-vision, revision just so happens to be Joyce’s primary mode of composition. In terms of practical matters, Joyce would continually revise Ulysses, with passages going through multiple rounds of drafts, with text overlaid upon text on each draft. Such continual revision is also a product of Joyce’s own compositional hermeneutic circle: as (literally) the first reader of Ulysses, he understands it only by writing more and more of it. That is, Ulysses did not emerge Athenalike out of Joyce’s head, but only, slowly, tentatively did it grow and change as more and more of it was written. As he wrote to Harriet Weaver on July 20 1919, “The elements needed will only fuse after a prolonged existence together” (L I 128). In other words, Joyce’s process of composition is a continual re-vision, a working of previously drafted material into new configurations.21 We can see such authorial revision in Stephen’s reverie about prostitutes and adultery in Paris, which combines and reworks elements from Joyce’s earlier writings, specifically 20  Up until 1906, with the completion of Dublin’s sewer system, untreated sewage was released into the Liffey and its tributaries, so the coastal areas of Dublin Bay were highly polluted; Anne Marie D’Arcy, “Vartryville,” Joyce Studies Annual (2013), 252–93, at 257. 21  Indeed, it can now be said with reasonable certainty that Joyce’s primary method of beginning a draft was by writing a series of brief, disconnected vignettes that would then be rearranged and linked – or “fused” – together into a single narrative. With Finnegans Wake, enough early drafts are extant for this process to be clear, but until the emergence of the Paul Léon Joyce papers in 2002, we simply did not have enough early drafts for Ulysses to see this process at work in the earlier novel. One of these documents (NLI ii.ii.1a) is the earliest extant draft of “Proteus,” which consists of a series of short units separated by asterisks. See Sam Slote, “Epiphanic ‘Proteus,’” Genetic Joyce Studies 5 (Spring 2005), www.geneticjoycestudies.org/articles/GJS5/ GJS5lote. Accessed February 2022.

88 · Sam Slote

two passages from Giacomo Joyce (1914). One of these is itself a revision of Joyce’s epiphany no. 33, which was written in 1902–3 and describes prostitutes in Paris.22 The first element from Giacomo Joyce is very close to Stephen’s recollection, except for it being set in Trieste and not Paris: “Trieste is waking rawly: raw sunlight over its huddled browntiled roofs testudoform; a multitude of prostrate bugs await a national deliverance. Belluomo rises from the bed of his wife’s lover’s wife: the busy housewife is astir, sloe-eyed, a saucer of acetic acid in her hand.” The second element from Giacomo Joyce, however, is set in Paris: “In the raw veiled spring morning faint odours float of morning Paris: aniseed, damp sawdust, hot dough of bread: and as I cross the Pont Saint Michel the steelblue waking waters chill my heart.”23 In writing “Proteus,” Joyce superimposed Paris over Trieste, combined these various elements, transposing and rearranging them to fit into a new scene, Joyce’s revisions transposed and translated into Stephen’s recollection. Paris rawly waking, crude sunlight on her lemon streets. Moist pith of farls of bread, the froggreen wormwood, her matin incense, court the air. Belluomo rises from the bed of his wife’s lover’s wife, the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a saucer of acetic acid in her hands. In Rodot’s Yvonne and Madeleine newmake their tumbled beauties, shattering with gold teeth chaussons of pastry, their mouths yellowed with the pus of flan breton. Faces of Paris men go by, their well pleased pleasers, curled conquistadores. (42; 3:209–15)

Not all textual transformations derive from Joyce’s authority. As has been amply rehearsed by this stage, the production of the first edition of Ulysses entailed all sorts of errors in the text and every attempt to correct these mistakes in subsequent editions produced, unfortunately, inevitably, new errors.24 In a book as

22  James Joyce, Poems and Shorter Writings, ed. Richard Ellmann, A. Walton Litz, and John Whittier-Ferguson (London: Faber & Faber, 1991), 193. 23  Ibid., 234, 235. 24  See Sam Slote, “Ulysses” in the Plural (Dublin: NLI, 2004).

detail-­obsessed as Ulysses, such textual deviations are not insignificant. Indeed, textual errors complicate the hermeneutic circle. For example, in all editions previous to Gabler’s, Stephen remembers the telegram his father sent recalling him to Dublin from Paris as: “Mother dying come home father” (42.18). However, Joyce clearly wrote “Nother dying” on multiple drafts, as in the sort of typographic mistake common with telegrams.25 The mistake was perpetrated by the typesetters for the first edition who, erroneously but understandably, corrected this to “Mother” ( JJA 17:50; 22:158). The ostensibly mistaken form – “Nother” – explains why the “blue French telegram” is indeed a “curiosity to show” (42; 3:198). As text evolves and grows and changes from draft to draft, it is not immune from glitches that transform the text in unexpected ways. Error is also a protean force. Within “Proteus” Stephen attempts to write a poem, which, unsurprisingly, is not very good.26 We do, however, get to see Stephen’s thoughts as he is composing and revising his work: “His lips lipped mouthed fleshless lips of air: mouth to her womb. Oomb, allwombing tomb” (47; 3:401–2). Just as Stephen is cycling through various possibilities in composing his poem, Joyce also took some efforts in devising this passage. In its earliest extant form, instead of “womb,” Joyce tried to invent a neologism, “moonbh” and wrote a variety of alternative formulations in the margin of a manuscript page, such as “moogb,” “moongmbmb,” and so on (Buffalo V.A.3:15; JJA 12:253). In the Rosenbach Manuscript he settled on the form “moomb” (f. 15). On the first placard, the typesetter unceremoniously emended Joyce’s neologism to “womb” thereby undoing all Joyce’s work in devising le mot juste ( JJA 17:57). Joyce’s art is fundamentally one of revision, even when the work is accidentally undone. Joyce does not shy away from symbolism in his works, but his symbolism tends to accord 25  The word “Nother” appears on the working draft from 1917 ( JJA 12:248) and the fair copy manuscript (“Ulysses”: A Facsimile of the Manuscript, ed. Clive Driver [New York: Octagon, 1975], n. p.). 26  On the poem and its unoriginality, see Robert Adams Day, “How Stephen Wrote His Vampire Poem,” James Joyce Quarterly 17:2 (Winter 1980), 183–97.

“Proteus” · 89

with naturalistic representation. Indeed, in “Calypso” Bloom remarks upon the incongruity of the headpiece for the Freeman’s Journal: a sunburst over the Bank of Ireland building in College Green, which formerly housed, before the Act of Union of 1800, the Irish Parliament. The symbolic intent of the picture is to depict a new dawn of Irish Home Rule; as the slogan beneath the picture has it, “Ireland a Nation.” Unfortunately, because of the position of the building, the sun is setting rather than rising and thus the symbolism of the picture is contravened by fact. As Bloom puts it, “a homerule sun rising up in the northwest” (55; 4:101–2). Conversely, Joyce avoids incongruity between symbolism and naturalism. For example, while the apparently surreal or even hallucinatory image of the “dancing coins” (36; 2:449) on Deasy’s shoulders at the end of “Nestor” clearly carries a symbolic suggestion, signaling Deasy’s fondness for filthy lucre, it remains eminently naturalistic. The coins are images of the sun diffracted “through the checkerwork of leaves” (36; 2:448) and are dancing because the leaves are rustling in the wind. The symbolic connection and the mimetic representation are, as it were, two sides of the same coin. Frank Budgen, who had formerly been a sailor, recalls that he attempted to correct Joyce’s misuse of nautical terminology at the end of “Proteus”: “Moving through the air high spars of a threemaster, her sails brailed up on the crosstrees, homing, upstream, silently moving, a silent ship” (50; 3:503–5). Budgen records his exchange with Joyce: “I sailed on schooners of that sort once and the only word we ever used for the spars to which the sails are bent was ‘yards.’ ‘Crosstrees’ were the lighter spars fixed near the lower mast-head. Their function was to give purchase to the topmast standing rigging.” Joyce thought for a moment. “Thank you for pointing it out,” he said. “There’s no sort of criticism I value more than that. But the word ‘crosstrees’ is essential.

It comes in later on and I can’t change it. After all, a yard is also a crosstree for the onlooking landlubber.”27

It might seem that in this case Joyce’s desire to create a symbolic connection outweighs his attempt to maintain verisimilitude.28 However, Joyce’s comment about the “onlooking landlubber” salvages this apparent inconsistency since it implies that the description of the silent ship is not meant to be an objective account that deploys technically accurate terminology, rather it is Stephen’s subjective impression rendered through the free indirect discourse of this passage. In this way, the fact that Joyce himself was (apparently) unaware of the correct term until Budgen’s correction is actually irrelevant. Elsewhere in his book, Budgen recounts Joyce telling him of a letter from a reader of the Little Review serialization who was tiring of Bloom: “The writer of [the letter] wants more Stephen. But Stephen no longer interests me to the same extent. He has a shape that can’t be changed.”29 At least within “Proteus” – and perhaps even through the rest of Ulysses  – Stephen is still mired in guilt and remorse over his mother’s death; his “Agenbite of inwit” (16; 1:481) or remorse of conscience keeps biting back. Amidst his protean thoughts on Sandymount Strand, Stephen remains inflexible in his self-inflicted social isolation and ­sullen solipsism. The world changes in the psychogeography of Stephen’s imagination but he himself stays the same, “almosting it” (46; 3: 366–67), as it were. 27  Frank Budgen, James Joyce and the Making of “Ulysses” (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), 57. 28  The second occurrence of the word “crosstree” is at 189; 9:496. 29  Budgen, James Joyce, 107. Ronan Crowley has identified this as not just any reader, but Ezra Pound, who on June 10, 1919 wrote to Joyce, “Where in hell is Stephen Tellemachus?”; Pound/Joyce, ed. Forrest Read (New York: New Directions, 1970), 158.

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The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 91

for throught read through

for Dominic read Dominie G 3:20

for march ing read marching

Ineluctable modality: Aristotle argued for the primacy of sight in understanding; color is necessary for visibility. Signatures of all things: 1621 text by German mystic Jacob Boehme (1575–1624), who held that God speaks to us through his creations. coloured signs: George Berkeley (1685–1753) claimed that we create distinct, persistent objects out of shifting sensory perceptions. Limits of the diaphane […] in bodies: Aristotle understood colors as bounding objects. maestro di color che sanno: Italian, “master among those who know,” Dante’s term for Aristotle in Inferno IV. Nacheinander […] nebeneinander: German, “after

one another ... next to one another”; according to G. E. Lessing (1729–81), poetry unfolds in time, while the plastic arts extend in space. a cliff that beetles […]: Hamlet (i.iv.70). Demiurgos: Greek, “the creator of the world”; Los is a demiurge in Blake’s “Book of Los” (1795). Wild sea money: shells. Dominie Deasy kens them a’: Scottish dialect, “Headmaster Deasy knows them all.” Madeline the mare?: possibly Madeleine Lemaire (1845–1928) or Philippe-Joseph Henri Lemaire (1798–1880). catalectic: acatalectic (G, correction), incomplete. tetrameter of iambs: four metrical feet of an unstressed and stressed syllable.

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“Proteus” · 38

G 3:40

G 3:60

Basta!: Italian, “enough!” Frauenzimmer: German, pejorative, “women.” Algy […] mighty mother: see 5. gamp: large umbrella. the liberties: poor area in south-central Dublin. relict: widow. Creation from nothing: see 19. omphalos: navel. Aleph, alpha: letter A in Hebrew and Greek. Adam Kadmon: man before the Fall, in Jewish mysticism; the perfect and primary son of God in Theosophy, according to Blavatsky in Isis Unveiled (1877). Heva: Latin, “Eve”; Cheva, Hebrew, “life”; Eve had no navel. buckler: shield. whiteheaped corn: “thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with Lilies,” Song of Solomon 7:2. Corn

[…] to everlasting: Thomas Traherne’s (1637–74) vision of Eden in Centuries of Meditations. made not begotten: the opposite of Jesus, who was begotten not made. lex eterna: Latin, “eternal law,” or God’s will, according to Aquinas. Arius: heretic; see 21. Contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality: compound of concepts disputed by Arius and Church theologians, Magnificat (hymn inspired by Mary’s declaration “My soul magnifies the Lord,” Luke 1:46–55), Jew, and bang. omophorion: bishop’s brocaded stole. nipping and eager airs: Hamlet (i.iv.2). steeds of Mananaan: waves; Mananaan MacLir, an Irish sea god.

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G 3:80

delete fullstop after law

for put toit read to put it

G 3:100

costdrawer: cost accountant. Highly respectable gondoliers: in Gilbert and Sullivan’s operetta The Gondoliers (1889) the Grand Inquisitor entrusts a prince to a “highly respectable gondolier,” who then confuses him with his own son. dun: someone collecting payment on a debt. Jesus wept: Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus, John 11:35. coign of vantage: high corner offering a view; from Macbeth (i.vi.7). Morrow, nephew: Sit down and take a walk. He lays (G, inclusion). Goff and Master Shapland Tandy:

listed in Thom’s as taxing masters for the Supreme Court. Duces Tecum: Latin, “You shall bring with you,” writ requiring an individual to provide a document to the court. Wilde’s Requiescat: 1881 poem Oscar Wilde wrote for his sister, Isola. Malt: malt whiskey. Lump of love: Murray’s (Richie Goulding’s) nickname for his daughter. lithia water: bottled spring water. All’erta!: Italian, “Watch out!” first word of Ferrando’s aria di sortita, “exit aria,” in Giuseppe Verdi’s (1813–1901) opera Il trovatore (1852).

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“Proteus” · 40

delete comma after bay

for basliskedeyed read basiliskeyed

G 3:120

for what else read What else

G 3:140

You told the Clongowes gentry: Stephen remembers lying; see Portrait (P 6). stagnant bay of Marsh’s library: secure reading carrel in the oldest public library in Ireland. Abbas: Latin, “abbot.” hater of his kind: Jonathan Swift (1667–1745), dean of St Patrick’s Cathedral, thought to be a misanthrope and madman. Houyhnhnm: one of the highly rational horses in Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels (1726). Foxy Campbell. Lantern jaws: nicknames of Belvedere teacher Father Richard Campbell, SJ. Descende calve […]: Latin, “Descend, bald one, lest you become excessively bald,” from Vaticinia Ponfiticum (1589), mistakenly attributed

to Joachim Abbas; also, 2 Kings 2:23–24; ut ne amplius decalveris (G, correction). comminated: threatened with divine vengeance. monstrance: receptacle for the consecrated host. altar’s horns: corners of Jewish altar. jackpriests: fallen priests. albs: long white vestments. pyx, housel: containers for the host. Dan Occam: William of Occam (c.1285–1349), philosopher and theologian. hypostasis: Jesus, as divine and human. Isle of saints: medieval term for Ireland; Joyce’s 1907 lecture, “Ireland, Isle of Saints and Sages.” O si, certo!: Italian, “Oh, yes indeed!” naked women!: Naked women! Naked women! (G, correction, insertion).

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The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 95

for deeeply read deeply

G 3:160

G 3:180

epiphanies: prose fragments featuring “sudden spiritual manifestations” (SH 211). mahamanvantara: Theosophical concept, after Hindu scripture; period of creation lasting millions of years. Pico della Mirandola: (1463–94) Italian humanist who wrote De Omni Re Scibili (On Everything That Can Be Known). very like a whale: Polonius agrees with Hamlet’s description of a cloud, Hamlet (iii.ii.406). that on the unnumbered pebbles beats: King Lear (iv. vi.20–22). sewage breath, a pocket of

seaweed smouldered in seafire under a midden of man’s ashes. He coasted (G, inclusion). Pigeonhouse: powerstation. Qui vous […] Joseph: French, “Who put you in this terrible position? It’s the pigeon, Joseph,” Mary and Joseph in Léo Taxil’s illustrated comic, La Vie de Jésus (1884). wild goose: one of the Irish Catholic rebels who joined European armies after the defeat of James II in 1690. lait chaud […] lapin […] gros lots: French, “hot milk,” “rabbit,” “the lottery.” Michelet: French

historian Jules Michelet (1798–1874). C’est tordant […] oui: French, “It’s painfully funny, you know. Me, I’m a socialist. I don’t believe in the existence of God. Better not tell my father.” “He believes?” “My father, yes.” Schluss: German, “done, finish.” Paysayenn […] naturelles: French, “PCN, physics, chemistry, and biology.” groatsworth: tiny portion. mou en civet: calf lung stew. fleshpots of Egypt: Egyptian plenty, Exodus 16.2–3. boul’Mich’: Boulevard Saint-Michel.

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“Proteus” · 42

G 3:200

for well pleased read wellpleased

Lui, c’est moi: French, “Him, it’s me,” possibly after Louis XIV’s declaration: “L’état c’est moi,” “I am the state” or poet Paul Verlaine’s line “Moi, je est un autre,” “I is an other,” in a letter to Georges Izambard, May 13, 1871. Encore deux minutes: French, “There is still two minutes.” Fermé: French, “closed.” fiery Columbanus […] Fiacre and Scotus: Irish missionaries in France in the sixth century and Dun Scotus (c.1266–1308), Scottish theologian. creepystools: Scots dialect, a low seat. loudlatinlanghing: loudlatinlaughing (G, correction). Euge!: Latin, “well done.” Newhaven: English port with routes to Dieppe, France.

Comment: French, “what, how.” Le Tutu: Parisian entertainment magazine. Pantalon Blanc et Culotte Rouge: French, “white pants and red bloomers,” after the Parisian magazine, La Vie en culotte rouge, “Life in red bloomers.” Mother dying: Nother dying (G, correction). Then here’s a health […]: after “Matthew Hanigan’s Aunt” by Irish songwriter Percy French (1854–1920). froggreen wormwood: absinthe. Rodot’s: Paris pastry shop. Chaussons […] pus […] flan bréton: French, “puff pastry,” custard (or pus), “flan-style cake.” pleasers: sideburns, after French “favoris.”

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The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 97

G 3:220 for Irlandais read irlandais

for messieurs not read messieurs. Not

G 3:240

insert comma after veil

divide Shatte- red so: Shatter- ed

green fairy: absinthe. Un demi sétier: French, “a quarter pint.” Il est irlandais […] oui!: French, “He’s Irish. Dutch? Not cheese. We’re two Irishmen, Ireland, you know? Ah, yes!” slainte: Irish toast, “to your health.” Dalcassians: soldiers for the medieval king of Munster. Arthur Griffith now, AE, pimander, good shepherd of men. To yoke (G, inclusion). Yokefellow […] common cause: after Henry V (ii. iii.56–57). Drumont: Edouard Adolphe Drumont (1844–1917), editor of the anti-Semitic newspaper, La Libre Parole (Free Speech). Vielle ogresse […]: French, “The old ogress with the yellow teeth.” La Patrie: French, “The Fatherland,” newspaper edited

by Lucien Millevoye (1850–1918), Maude Gonne’s lover. Félix Faure: President of France (1895–99). froeken: Swedish, “single woman.” bonne à tout faire: French, “maid of all work.” Moi faire […]: broken French, “I do. All the gentlemen.” peep of day boy’s: secret society of Ulster Protestants. Got up as a young bride: James Stephens’s alleged escape from Richmond jail in 1865. gossoon: Hiberno-English, boy. Richard Burke: (1838–1922) Irish-American Fenian sympathizer. tanist: from Irish, tániste, successor to the leader. Clerkenwell: London prison, bombed in 1867 in an attempt to rescue IRB leaders Richard Burke and Joseph Casey (the model for Kevin Egan).

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“Proteus” · 44

G 3:260

G 3:280

for carcase read carcass

canary: prostitute, mistress. Mon fils: French, “my son.” The boys of Kilkenny: Irish song. saint Canice: missionary whose cathedral gave Kilkenny its name. Strongbow’s castle on the Nore: Richard FitzGilbert, Earl of Pembroke, led the Anglo-Norman invasion of Ireland in 1171; built a castle on the River Nore in Kilkenny. He takes me, Napper Tandy: from the nationalist ballad, “The Wearing of the Green”; James Napper Tandy (1740–1803), co-founder of the United Irishmen. Remembering thee, O Sion: from Psalm

137. Kish lightship: navigational light moored off Kish Bank. panthersahib and his pointer: the Englishman (Haines dreamt of a panther) and his hunting dog. in sable […] Elsinore’s tempting flood: Horatio’s descriptions of the ghost and of the sea, Hamlet (i.ii.242, i.iv.71). grike: crevice, crack. Un coche ensablé: French, “A stage coach stuck in sand”; conservative journalist and politician Louis Veuillot’s criticism in “Le Vrai poète Parisien” of Romantic poet Théophile Gautier’s prose. Sir Lout: giant invented by Joyce, according to Budgen.

45 · “Proteus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 99

G 3:300

G 3:320

Feefawfum […]: Joyce’s giant. two maries: Mary Magdalene and Mary, mother of James and Joses, witness the Crucifixion and the empty tomb. Galleys of the Lochlanns: ships of Norwegian invaders. torcs: decorative collars worn by Irish, Gauls, and Britons. when Malachi wore: from Moore’s song “Let Erin Remember the Days of Old”; Malachi (948–1022) High King of Ireland, defeated the Danes in 996. turlehide whales: shoal of whales washed up during a famine in 1331. frozen Liffey: in 1338 and 1739. Terribilia meditans: Latin, “meditating on terrible

things.” fortune’s knave: from Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra (v.ii.3). Bruce’s brother: Edward Bruce (d.1318) attempted to free Ireland, as Robert the Bruce had freed Scotland. Perkin Warbeck: mistaken for royalty because of wearing his master’s clothes. Lambert Simnel: made a domestic servant for conspiring to the throne. nans and sutlers: serving maids and food suppliers. Guido in Or san Michele: in Boccaccio’s (1313–75) Decameron, vi.9, Guido Cavalcanti is mocked in a churchyard and defends himself by saying “in your own house you may say whatever you like to me.”

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“Proteus” · 46

G 3:340

G 3:360

On a field tenney a buck, trippant, proper, unattired: Heraldic terms, “on a tawny field, a stag walks with one hoof raised, in natural colors, without antlers.” seamorse: walrus. every ninth: in Irish mythology, the ninth wave from land was the boundary between the human and divine worlds. moves to one great goal: notion of history as the unfolding of reason; see 34. Tatters: dog in Dion Boucicault’s (1820–90) comedy The Shaughraun. his grandmother: Stephen’s

riddle; see 27. a pard, a panther, got in spousebreach: medieval idea that a leopard was born from the adulterous union of a “parde” and a lion (OED). Haroun al Raschid: (763–809), caliph of Baghdad, patron of the arts, who wandered among his people in disguise. The melon […] the rule: in Deuteronomy 26, God demands that the first fruits are to be presented to the priest; in Numbers 11, the wandering Israelites long for meat and for fruit, including melons.

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for A bout read About

G 3:380

G 3:400

red Egyptians: “Gypsies” thought to be of Egyptian extraction. mort: thieves’ cant, “woman.” bing awast to Romeville: “go to London.” fancyman: sweetheart, pimp. Royal Dublins: Royal Dublin Fusiliers. Buss her […] wapping dell: thieves’ cant, “kiss her, copulate in noted talk, O, my pretty lover.” White thy fambles […]: second stanza of “The Rogue’s Delight in Praise of His Strolling Mort,” in Richard Head’s The Canting Academy (1673), “White your hands, red your mouth / And your body dainty is. / Lie down to sleep with me then. / And in the darkness embrace and kiss.”

Morose delectation: Aquinas called the pleasure taken in sinful thought delectatio morosa. frate porscopino: Italian, “the porcupine monk.” marybeads: rosary beads. oinopa ponton: “wine-dark sea,” Homer. Behold the handmaid: Mary’s self-description in Luke 1:38; here “Lord” is changed to “moon.” Omnis caro ad te veniet: Latin, “All flesh will come to thee,” after Psalms 65:1–2. He comes, pale […]: Stephen’s version of the last stanza of “My Grief on the Sea,” translated from the Irish by Douglas Hyde. womb: moomb (G, correction).

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G 3:420

G 3:440

darkness shining in the brightness: inversion of John 1:5; see 28. augur’s rod of ash: Stephen imagines that his stick is a Roman augur’s staff. good bishop of Cloyne: philosopher Bishop Berkeley. veil of the temple: separates the holy and the most holy, Exodus 26:33. shovel hat: hat with brim curved at the sides, worn by priests. veil of space […] far, flat: Stephen reflects on Berkeley’s theories of perception. Hodges Figgis: bookstore, 104 Grafton Street. jesse: strap.

kickshaws: pretty but valueless things. Talk that to some one else, Stevie: Stephen remembers Davin’s story of a chance sexual adventure; see Portrait (P 153). piuttosto: Italian, “rather.” Et vidit Deus. Et erant valde bona: Latin, “And God saw. And they were exceedingly good” (Vulgate Bible), God approves of his creations. Pan’s hour, the faunal noon: suggests Stéphane Mallarmé’s erotic poem “L’Après-midi d’un faune” (1865–77) (The Afternoon of a Faun).

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G 3:460

G 3:480

And no more turn: lines from “Who goes with Fergus”; see 9. tripudium: Latin, “a triple beat,” a ritual dance. Tiens, quel petit pied! French, “My, what a small foot!” speak its name. His arm: Cranly’s arm. He now will (G, inclusion). All or not at all: possibly after Henrik Ibsen’s Brand (1866), whose hero declares “My claim is ‘nought or all,’” and then refuses to visit his dying mother. Cock lake: tidal pool off

Sandymount. hising up: lifting; see 13. Saint Ambrose: Church father and composer of church music. diebus ac noctibus […]: Latin, “day and night, it groans, suffering injuries,” from St Ambrose’s commentary on the suffering of humanity in Romans 8:22. Full fathom five thy father lies: Ariel’s song in The Tempest (i.ii.394). Sunk though he be: from Milton’s “Lycidas”; see 25. featherbed mountain: mountain south of Dublin.

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G 3:500

Old Father Ocean: one of Homer’s names for Proteus in the Odyssey. Prix de Paris: French: “Prize of Paris,” a major horse race, or the golden apple Paris gave to Aphrodite, as the most beautiful, who in return gave him Helen. Allbright he falls […]: after Isaiah. 14:12, “How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning.” Lucifer, dico, qui nescit occasum: Latin, “Lucifer, I say, who does not know a fall,” from St Ambrose’s Holy Saturday prayer, the Exsultet. hismy sandal shoon: Ophelia, Hamlet (iv.v.23–26). Of all

the glad new year: from “The May Queen” (1833) by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Già: Italian, “already, indeed.” For the rest let look who will: Church of England rule for consecrated Eucharists on Good Friday: “Let him put a part of the housel into the chalice, as it is however usual; then let him go silently to the housel; and for the rest let look who will,” in John Johnson, A Collection of All the Ecclesiastical Laws (1720). rere regardant: language of heraldry, looking back over the shoulder.

4 · “CALYPSO” Margot Norris

The first sentence of the “Calypso” episode introduces us to a character we have not previously encountered in Joyce’s work – a “Mr Leopold Bloom.” And we are immediately taken into his gut, as it were, and told that he “ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls,” including “nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs” and, most of all, “grilled mutton kidneys that gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine” (53; 4:4–5). This intimacy with his body moves quickly into an intimacy with his mind – “Kidneys were in his mind as he moved about the kitchen softly” (54; 4:6) – and his emotions, which include feeling “a bit peckish” on this morning. The narration has moved from Stephen Dedalus’s elaborate and allusive thoughts in the previous episode into the life of an ordinary person, a thirty-eight-year-old man who on this morning prepares breakfast for his wife, who is still sleeping, and then goes out to shop for a kidney for his own breakfast. When he returns he picks up the mail that has been delivered, takes the breakfast tray up to his wife, eats his kidney while reading a letter from his fifteen-year-old daughter, goes back upstairs to chat with his wife, and finally makes a trip to the outhouse, where he has a bowel movement, before getting on with his day in the next episode. The narration presents us with information about a “Mr Leopold Bloom,” but on the level of interior monologue it also gives us moments of his actual thoughts and of his words in conversation. We learn directly what he likes to eat, but although he is

presented as both thinking about his wife and actually speaking to her, there are hints that something is not quite right, that something is worrying him. These, however, are revealed only obliquely without direct evidence or explanation. Our introduction to Leopold Bloom will be fraught with considerable mystery, as we will discover through tracing what we are told. Frank Budgen, a friend of James Joyce during his time in Zurich, reports Joyce telling him “that my book is a modern Odyssey. Every episode in it corresponds to an adventure of Ulysses.”1 But how can this introduction to the ordinary life of the ordinary Leopold Bloom possibly reflect the epic grandeur of Homer’s Odyssey, and particularly the complexities of its “Calypso” segment, in which we find Odysseus stranded for seven years on the island of the nymph Calypso, who wishes to make him her immortal husband? The answer may lie in the Greek meaning ascribed to her name, which identifies Calypso as a “concealer,” as one who hides or covers something. Odysseus is anxious to return to his wife and his kingdom of Ithaca, and will require the help of the gods to do this. Although the Blooms are married, one of the letters delivered that morning is addressed to “Mrs Marion Bloom,” in a bold flouting of the contemporary convention of referring to married women by their husband’s Christian name; although Molly tells 1  Frank Budgen, James Joyce and the Making of “Ulysses” (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1960), 20.

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5 7 Eccles Street

Bloom that her concert manager sent the letter, she does not show it to him or let him see it. She does indeed conceal something, and we will learn that there is a picture of a nymph, a “Calypso” of sorts, above his and his wife’s bed. The wife is not the only concealer, however. Bloom himself, before putting on his hat to go out and shop for the kidney, “peeped quickly inside the leather headband. White slip of paper. Quite safe” (55; 4:70–71). What is that white slip of paper and why is it concealed in his headband? Bloom assures himself that it is quite safe – but safe from what? Here the narration itself functions as a concealer, giving us no explanation at an enigmatic moment. Hugh Kenner writes that “largely Ulysses is a book of silences,” and suggests that “some of the most moving things the book has

to say are never said.”2 Perhaps all of Ulysses is a concealer in some sense, and it is this that keeps readers in suspense. The narration raises other questions and concerns that will not be answered until later sections of the novel. Bloom does early on allude to a “she” after preparing a plate with slices of bread and butter – “She didn’t like her plate full” (53; 4:11–12). But the first encounter and conversation Bloom has with another figure in the episode is un-enigmatic and un-problematic. Indeed, the oral first word in “Calypso” is “Mkgnao!” – uttered by his cat. Bloom immediately responds – “O, there you are” – and the “cat mewed in answer,” followed 2  Hugh Kenner, Ulysses (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987), 48.

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4 Eccles Street

by a “Prr,” which Bloom interprets as “Scratch my head” (53; 4:16–20). Stuart Gilbert suggests that “The cat and Mr Bloom are on excellent terms.”3 Joyce’s decision to have Bloom introduced this way allows him to begin the chapter with narrative observations – “Mr Bloom watched curiously, kindly, the lithe black form” – followed by Bloom’s thoughts – “They call them stupid. They understand what we say bet3  Stuart Gilbert, James Joyce’s “Ulysses”: A Study (New York: Vintage Books, 1952), 134.

ter than we understand them. She understands all she wants to.” He then addresses the cat in language she might be thought to understand. “Milk for the pussens,” he says, after he has bent down to be on the same level with her, followed by the mocking “Afraid of the chickens she is” and “Afraid of the chookchooks. I never saw such a stupid pussens as this pussens” (54; 4:30– 31). By now the cat is getting hungrier and her feline words are getting longer, “Mrkrgnao.” After he pours the milk into a saucer and sets it on the floor, she responds with a different

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word, “Gurrhr!” In just a few sentences the cat is given a language and vocabulary and an ability to express feelings, all of which Bloom is able to interpret. The style of this brief incident gives us both Bloom’s thoughts and a curious dialogue, but also a sensibility that differs from that of Stephen Dedalus in the earlier chapters. Stephen expresses even his private thoughts in elegant, complicated, and erudite formulations. Bloom’s thoughts, on the contrary, are generally simple and ordinary, expressing his observations in homely, factual language, with more intimacy than he might express in conversation. While listening to his cat lap up her milk, Bloom decides that for his own breakfast he will get a pork kidney at Dlugacz’s. But before leaving, he goes up the staircase and stops at the bedroom door, all the while wondering if the “she” he referred to earlier might like something tasty. “Thin bread and butter she likes in the morning” (54; 4:50–51). He then tells the woman through the bedroom door that he is going just around the corner and asks her “You don’t want anything for breakfast?” and she answers with a sound reminiscent of the cat’s language: “Mn” (54; 4:55–57). As with the cat, Bloom knows how to interpret the sound – “She didn’t want anything,” and the narration then tells us that he heard “a warm heavy sigh” and the jingling of the bed as “she turned over.” But this is not all we learn about her. The bed apparently came from Gibraltar, and the woman must have lived there when she was young because she once spoke Spanish (“Forgotten any little Spanish she knew”) and that is where her father bought the bed. This confirms a strong assumption that the woman in the bedroom is Bloom’s wife, although all it tells us about their relationship at this point is that he has sufficient care for her to prepare her breakfast in the morning. So Bloom goes off to the porkbutcher’s shop and the narration follows his thoughts on his journey there, which become quite expansive after he notices the sun rising above, bringing on a warm day. As he thinks of the sun rising in the east he also thinks of the geographical eastern part of the world, “Turbaned faces going by,” and the course of the day as it moves toward night, “Night sky, moon, violet, colour of Molly’s new garters” (55; 4:88–97). We are here given his wife’s name for the first time.

Once Bloom leaves his home, we will begin to get increasing hints that his situation in the world of Dublin will in fact be surprisingly complex, with respect to nationality, cultural background, social status, and sexuality – all aspects that give Bloom considerable vulnerability and therefore require considerable courage. But again, this will all be concealed for a time, with only small indications here and there, the significance of which will be revealed only gradually. On his way to the shop Bloom stops to say hello to Larry O’Rourke, a publican, before arriving at the store of the porkbutcher Dlugacz – clearly not an Irish name. While waiting to place his order he reads a flyer in the shop that appears to refer to a foreign place, a “model farm at Kinnereth on the lakeshore of Tiberias.” Then Bloom notices the name “Moses Montefiore,” and the name Moses may suggest that the person named in the flyer is Jewish, which may be what Bloom suspects – “I thought he was” (57; 4:154–56). Given that he has this flyer in his shop, Dlugacz the porkbutcher may himself be Jewish, although this seems incongruous, given that Jewish dietary law forbids the eating of pork. But there is something else going on. When Bloom pays him for the kidney, Dlugacz has a strange visual reaction. “A speck of eager fire from foxeyes thanked him. He withdrew his gaze after an instant. No: better not: another time” (58; 4:186–87). Why does the butcher give Bloom an intense look which Bloom appears to recognize as a signal of some sort that calls for a response, but which he chooses not to give at this time? It is not until later that we learn with certainty that Bloom himself is also Jewish, and it may be that Dlugacz would like to engage him in conversation about this. Bloom is not necessarily averse to this, but just not on this occasion. “No: better not: another time.” If Bloom is shy about conceding his Jewish identity to another Jewish Dubliner, we can begin to imagine that even in complex Ireland, foreign cultures may not feel welcomed by everyone. So Bloom leaves the butcher’s shop without talking further to Dlugacz, perhaps also because he had been standing “by the nextdoor girl at the counter” whose “vigorous hips” he notices as she reads items from a shopping list she holds in her chapped hands (57; 4:146–51). Bloom thinks of his neighbor “Woods his

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name is. Wonder what he does. Wife is oldish.” So the girl living next door to him is not the neighbor’s elderly wife, but probably a servant. Had Bloom begun a conversation about being Jewish with the butcher, the nextdoor maid would have heard this and might have reported it to Woods, the neighbor. Is this why he would rather speak with Dlugacz about it “another time” – when no one is present to hear the conversation? Or is Bloom merely interested in the girl he once saw “[w]hacking a carpet on the clothesline,” causing “her crooked skirt” to swing “with each whack”? She pays for her groceries and leaves, causing Bloom to hurry the butcher so he can follow her and watch her “moving hams” (57; 4:172), but she soon saunters off so that Bloom does not see her again. This relatively innocent activity on Bloom’s part does not prepare us for some greater complications in his sexuality. We have actually received a mysterious hint about this earlier, when Bloom, before leaving home, made sure he had tucked a white sheet of paper into his leather headband. This bit of concealment by both Bloom and the narration will be resolved in the next chapter, when we discover that Bloom has a bit of a masochistic sexual fetish, and that this may be why he remembers the servant girl whacking the rug, perhaps leading him to think of her whacking other things as well, perhaps even himself. Bloom has apparently located a female pen-pal named Martha through an ad in the newspaper, to whom he calls himself “Henry Flower,” to conceal his identity. Suzette Henke points out, “Bloom has fashioned an alter-ego for the innocuous release of aggressive sexual fantasy.”4 We now understand the mysterious little paper in his headband, which he will present to the postmistress, to pick up what he hopes will be an erotic letter. But the sexual correspondence has not yet progressed very far, and the woman’s comments in the letter she sent are simple and awkward. When she writes, “I am awfully angry with you. I do wish I could punish you for that” (74; 5:243–44), we suspect that she is struggling to figure out what to say, not that

she means this in any way. Joyce’s strategy appears intended to downplay this sexual quirk of Bloom’s as an incidental and playful feature of a man who will turn out to be not a pervert at all but a decent and devoted family man, whose sexual problem with his wife has turned him to use off-beat fantasies for compensation. But on his walk home, Bloom is preoccupied not with erotic fantasies but with thoughts of the eastern part of the world, inspired by the pamphlet he picked up at the butcher’s. These thoughts are initially filled with positive possibilities described in the pamphlet, the planting of “sandy tracts” with eucalyptus trees, living in a land “with olives, oranges, almonds or citrons” (58; 192–96). Neil Davidson writes that Bloom’s thoughts here remind “him of his former ties to the Dublin Jewish community and his old Jewish friends,” “warm Oriental memories of citrons and Jewish comradeship” that are quickly darkened by a “cloud covering the sun.”5 “Palestine becomes a wasteland” for Bloom now, according to Davidson. Although we have not yet learned what Bloom’s religion is, we can consider in retrospect that his pleasant thoughts of Palestine may be darkened by suppressed fears about anti-Semitism. On this morning they produce occasional feelings of isolation and “[d]esolation,” as Davidson calls them, which gradually become so severe that “[g]rey horror seared his flesh” and began “chilling his blood” (59; 4:229– 32). Bloom had earlier connected his thoughts of olives and their seeds with a memory of his wife eating them, and “Molly spitting them out.” The oranges also remind him of a friend named Citron, whom he visited with his wife, “Molly in Citron’s basketchair” (58; 4:203–7). And so Bloom needs to cheer himself up quickly, and does so with thoughts of home, “the gentle smoke of tea, fume of the pan, sizzling ­butter. Be near her ample bedwarmed flesh” (59; 4:237–39). When he arrives at his door, there are two letters and a card, and one of the letters is addressed to “Mrs Marion Bloom.” We now have evidence that Bloom is married, that the Molly in the bedroom has the formal first name of Marion and shares his last name, and she

4  Suzette A. Henke, Joyce’s Moraculous Sindbook: A Study of “Ulysses” (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1978), 78.

5  Neil R. Davidson, James Joyce, “Ulysses,” and the Construction of Jewish Identity (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 203.

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is therefore his wife, now calling out to him – “Poldy!” In response, Bloom goes up to the bedroom, apparently carrying the two letters and the postcard, and this commences a conversation with his wife. Remarkably, this is the only conversation between Bloom and Molly that is directly presented to us in the entire novel of Ulysses. They will have another conversation in the penultimate episode, “Ithaca,” when Bloom returns to the bedroom after Stephen has left the house. In that chapter, Bloom kisses Molly on the rear and wakes her, and we are given a report of what they discussed – but not their actual speech. So this conversation between husband and wife in “Calypso” is extraordinary. Molly first asks, “Who are the letters for?” Bloom tells her that he has received a letter from their daughter Milly, who has also sent a postcard to her mother, and that there is another letter “for you.” He lays her card and letter on the bed, and then sees her “glance at the letter and tuck it under her pillow” (59; 4:249– 57). Bloom waits until she lays the card aside, presumably waiting to see her open the letter and tell him about it. But instead, “Hurry up with the tea, she said. I’m parched.” He tells her that the kettle is boiling and then clears a chair, still waiting, but then goes downstairs since she clearly will not open the letter while he is there, or tell him about it. His wife here acts out her role as Calypso, the “concealer.” When Bloom does return to the bedroom with Molly’s tea and toast, he can feel the warmth of her body rising into the air from her bed, and he notices that torn envelope peeping out from under her pillow. Molly clearly read the letter while he was in the kitchen, and he now asks her “Who was the letter from?” His next thoughts, “Bold hand. Marion,” suggest that he knows the letter is from a man familiar to her, and, indeed, he is right. “O, Boylan,” she says. “He’s bringing the programme.” Bloom then asks “What are you singing?” and this gives us enough information to infer that Molly Bloom is a singer with plans for a concert arranged by her manager, a man named Boylan (61; 4:310–14). The conversation that ensues between the couple makes their relationship seem quite normal. Molly asks “What time is the funeral?” and this explains why Bloom earlier, feeling the

warmth of the sun on his way to the butcher’s, thinks “in these black clothes feel it more” (55; 4:79). He is wearing black clothes because he will attend a funeral. Molly, her mouth full of food, begins pointing at something, which turns out to be a book. Still eating, she finds a page and points to a word, perhaps saying it with her mouth full because Bloom asks her “Met him what?” Vincent Sherry suggests that Bloom’s incorrect hearing of her word is a kind of Freudian slip, a sudden thought that Molly “will meet him – Boylan.”6 It turns out that the word Molly does not understand is “metempsychosis,” and she needs Bloom to explain it to her. He gives her the pronunciation and definition of “metempsychosis” – “It’s Greek: from the Greek. That means the transmigration of souls” – and when Molly says, “O, rocks! […] Tell us in plain words,” he tries to figure out the best way to explain it to her: “An example would be better. An example?” And he comes up with one. “Metempsychosis, he said, is what the ancient Greeks called it. They used to believe you could be changed into an animal or a tree, for instance. What they called nymphs, for example” (62–3; 4:336–77). Bloom here displays some academic skill, offering both a cultural source for the word and an illustrative explanation for Molly’s benefit. But for Bloom, who is haunted by memories of the dead throughout this day, “metempsychosis” has a particular poignant implication. At the end of the chapter of his visit to the brothel with Stephen Dedalus, Bloom is caring for a drunken Stephen lying on the ground when he has a ­remarkable vision. “Against the dark wall a figure appears slowly, a fairy boy of eleven, a changeling, kidnapped, dressed in an Eton suit with glass shoes and a little bronze helmet, holding a book in his hand” (565; 15:4956–59). It is an apparition of his dead son, Rudy, whom Bloom lost eleven years earlier when the baby was only eleven days old. In the next sections we will learn more about Bloom’s deep and committed relationship to family – a loving relationship nonetheless complicated by a variety of related e­ xperiences in the past. But one would not guess this from what appears to be a calm and comfortable domestic situation on this morning. After he has 6  Vincent Sherry, James Joyce: “Ulysses” (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 40.

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told Molly about metempsychosis, she smells something burning, and Bloom rushes down the stairs on “flurried stork’s legs,” realizing it must be the kidney he left burning on the stove. His first taste of the kidney appears to be good – “toothsome pliant meat. Done to a turn” – and after beginning his breakfast, he reads the letter from his daughter Milly, who, we learn, turned fifteen the day before. He had glanced at it quickly before taking Molly’s tray up to her, but we are now given the daughter’s charming letter to “Dearest Papli” in its entirety. It begins by thanking him for the lovely tam he sent her for her birthday, and tells him that she is “swimming in the photo business now,” clearly enjoying her job as an intern to becoming a photographer’s assistant. She mentions a young student who sometimes visits, and who sings Boylan’s song, and asks her father to “[t]ell him silly Milly sends my best respects.” Thinking about her fifteenth birthday, Bloom remembers the midwife who delivered her on the summer morning she was born, and then recalls “She knew from the first poor little Rudy wouldn’t live.” He then thinks that Rudy “would be eleven now if he had lived” (63–64; 4:378–420). So, four years after Milly was born the Blooms had a son they named Rudy – in honor of Bloom’s father. Losing him would be a tragedy for any parent, but much later we will learn that this experience created the huge crisis in the marriage that dominates the major events on this particular day. In this chapter, that crisis is kept silent with no allusion to its complicated cause or its consequences. The cause, we might speculate, might have been grounded in the way the little boy was conceived, something we will not learn about until much later. On a morning over eleven years before, Molly saw two dogs copulating in the alley below, and became aroused and initiated sex with her husband. The couple seem to think that this unusual source of intercourse may have initiated not only the birth of their son Rudy, but that its arguable indecency possibly played a role in his death. In the last ­chapter of Ulysses Molly Bloom addresses this problem. Thinking what a fine son Stephen Dedalus is, she regrets that she did not have one and first wonders about Bloom, “was he not able to make one,” but she then

says “it wasnt my fault we came together when I was watching the two dogs up in her behind in the middle of the naked street that disheartened me altogether I suppose I oughtnt to have buried him in that little woolly jacket I knitted crying as I was” (728; 18:1445–49). Could Bloom have assumed that sex with his wife under these circumstances caused his son’s death, and somehow made Molly feel that she was to blame? We learn that Bloom is no longer able to have internal intercourse with his wife after the death of the child and that they have therefore not had their regular sex over all these years. This abstinence in turn has everything to do with the highly charged status of Hugh Boylan in the Blooms’ life at this time, because Bloom fears that his wife – after her long sexual isolation – will begin an affair with Boylan. And this is why Milly’s sweet and loving letter to her father, with its mention of Boylan, will trigger feelings of regret and fear and panic in him. Bloom’s breakfast is therefore haunted by having to contend with his daughter growing up, becoming a teenager approaching her first sexual experiences – “Milly too. Young kisses: the first” (65; 4:444). But her mention of Boylan in her letter, which Bloom reads two more times after the first one, links her oncoming sexuality with her mother’s, “Mrs Marion,” who herself received a letter from Boylan on this morning. “A soft qualm, regret, flowed down his backbone, increasing. Will happen, yes. Prevent. Useless: can’t move. Girl’s sweet light lips. Will happen too. He felt the flowing qualm spread over him. Useless to move now. Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. Full gluey woman’s lips” (65; 4:447–50). Bloom is in crisis, with his daughter and his wife both on the verge of sexual activities over which he has no control, and which potentially endanger his relationships with them. We are not yet given enough information to grasp the extent of this crisis for Bloom at this climactic point in the chapter. It is not until the novel’s last chapter that we will learn that Molly did indeed have sex with Boylan that afternoon, and that this was indeed a day of crisis, as Bloom fears. But at this point he calms himself down, thinking he might visit Milly where she works, in Mullingar. And he now feels a “gentle loosening of his bowels” (65; 4:460) and realizes

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it is time to go to the toilet. He picks up a paper, “an old number of Titbits” (65; 4:467) and lets the cat go upstairs to the bedroom after he hears Molly calling her. He then heads outside and goes to the outhouse. His thoughts are calm as he looks at the garden on the way there, with spearmint growing, and hens in the next garden (“their droppings are very good top dressing” for the soil, he thinks), and considers growing peas in the corner and maybe even building a summerhouse on the property (65–66; 4:479–84). Once he enters the outhouse, he reminds himself that he has to be careful not to dirty the black clothes he will wear to the funeral, and then opens the paper to read a story titled “Matcham’s Masterstroke,” an apparent romance article for which the author, a “Mr Philip Beaufoy,” will receive a payment of three pounds, thirteen, and six, according to Bloom’s calculation of the fee such writers are paid. He then thinks about possibly writing a sketch himself, and remembers once having written notes on his cuff as he watched Molly dressing and talking, possibly for an article or story he considered writing. He then also remembers the first conversation they had about Boylan – “Is that Boylan well off? He has money. Why? I noticed he had a good rich smell off his breath dancing” (67; 4:518–30). This conversation was not a good omen, it now seems, and would certainly not be part of any story or article Bloom would write. But so it goes on this day, with ordinary activities, ordinary thoughts, and small bursts here and there of a possibly impending crisis that will haunt him time and time again, throughout the day. His bowel movement has gone well, with yesterday’s constipation quite gone, and his bowels easing themselves quietly avert the danger of hemorrhoids at this time. Joyce here transforms defecation, an experience that might elsewhere create ribald comedy or conjure revolted disgust, into the conspicuous ordinariness of daily life. Patrick McCarthy offers a wry perspective: “Bloom’s final use of Beaufoy’s story – as toilet paper – may well be regarded as an appropriate act of literary criticism.”7 When Bloom leaves the

jakes, he carefully checks his black trousers to make sure they are clean, and then goes inside to check the paper for the time of the funeral, just as the bells of St George’s church ring three times to indicate a quarter to the hour. Bloom’s last thought as the chapter ends is a sympathetic, “Poor Dignam!” referring to the man whose funeral he will attend (67; 4:551). And so here we have it, “Calypso,” the Ulysses episode of the “Concealer,” reminding us of the complicated concept of “concealment.” On the one hand, it refers to hiding, to keeping things from being seen or heard or pictured, or understood, but at the same time it implies that the things being hidden have some important reason for not being shown, for not being made available to our consciousness or knowledge. And that is precisely how this first chapter, in which we meet Leopold Bloom and his family, operates both on the narrative and on the thematic level. In this way the narration functions as the concealer, while also prodding the reader to make inferences about what is being concealed and giving vague clues about why information may be concealed. Bloom’s indirect discourse likewise tends to give us some of his direct thoughts, while obscuring what lies behind them, as when he checks on the safety of the paper in the headband of his hat without disclosing the reason for his concern. The effect of all this concealment on the reader is to present us with questions that require us to speculate and guess about what is going on, and this in turn makes us want answers that we can only hope to find in our reading of the ensuing chapters. And so we are hooked as searchers on a literary journey of insightful discovery. As David Hayman writes, “Bloom’s day is a complete life: past, present, and probable future. Joyce builds him up gradually through the memories and reactions of others as well as through his own memories and sensations, delightful as they are trivial, served warm with a seasoning of life and laced with laughter.”8

7  Patrick A. McCarthy, “Ulysses”: Portals of Discovery (Boston, MA: Twayne Publishers, 1990), 55.

8  David Hayman, “Ulysses”: The Mechanics of Meaning (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1960), 27.

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a

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G 4:20

gizzards: the second, muscular stomach of a bird. hencods’ roes: spawn of a female cod. Gelid: icy, frosty. peckish: hungry.

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G 4:40

G 4:60

Hanlon’s: S. Hanlon, dairyman, 26 Lower Dorset Street. drouth: drought. Buckley’s: John Buckley, victualer, 48 Upper Dorset Street. Dlugacz’s: nearby pork butcher (invented by Joyce). brass quoits: decorative flattened rings. Gibraltar: British territory

at the southern tip of Spain, at the mouth of the Mediterranean. short knock: quick sale. old Tweedy: Molly’s father, Brian Cooper Tweedy. Plevna: town in Bulgaria; site of a battle in the Russo-Turkish war (1877–78); Britain was neutral at the time.

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for off must read off. Must

G 4:80

G 4:100

in the swim: in league with or in the way of good fortune. Plasto’s: John Plasto, hatter, 1 Great Brunswick (now Pearse) Street. Black conducts: black absorbs heat. Boland’s: Boland’s bakery, 133–36 Capel Street. our daily: “Give us this day our daily bread” from the Lord’s Prayer. steal a day’s march on him: the idea that walking west will defer the sunset and the end of the day. ranker: officer who has risen from

the ranks. Turko: see 10. dulcimers: fretted string instrument in the zither family. headpiece over the Freeman leader: a homerule sun: an illustration in the pro-Home Rule Freeman’s Journal and National Press newspaper which pictured a burst of sunlight coming from the northwest above the Bank of Ireland, formerly the Irish parliament, with the motto “Ireland, a Nation.” Ikey: (slang) Jewish, artful, crafty, knowing.

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G 4:140

Larry O’Rourke’s: Laurence O’Rourke, grocer and tea, wine and spirit merchant, 72 and 73 Upper Dorset Street. M’Auley’s: Thomas McAuley, grocer and wine merchant, 39 and 82 Lower Dorset Street. n. g.: (slang) no go, not good. codger: stingy or testy old man; a fellow. curate: (slang) bartender. Russians […] Japanese: the Japanese went on to win the Russo-Japanese War (1904–5). country: county (G, correction). Leitrim: rural county, considered unsophisticated by Dubliners. old man in the cellar: probably to do with the reselling of the dregs of

customers’ drinks. Adam Findlaters: (1855–1911) successful grocer and alcohol merchant with political aims. bob: one shilling. double shuffle: (slang) overpaying the salesman and getting a kick-back. town travellers: traveling salesmen. porter: dark brown or black bitter beer. Saint Joseph’s, National school: primary school, 81–84 Upper Dorset Street. Inishturk. Inishark. Inishboffin: three small islands off the west coast of Ireland. joggerfry: geography. Slieve Bloom: mountain range in the central plane of Ireland. polonies: pork sausages.

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G 4:160

G 4:180

Kinnereth: location of a Palestine Land Development farm. Tiberias: Lake Galilee, John 6:1. Moses Montefiore: (1784–1885) Jewish philanthropist; influenced Jewish emancipation in England and promoted the Jewish colonization of Palestine. Brown

scapulars: small woolen articles of devotion, worn strung about the neck by Camelites and pious lay people. O please, Mr Policeman: from the title of the 1890s music-hall song about innocent newcomers to London, “Oh Please, Mr. P’liceman, Oh! Oh! Oh!”

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Agendath Netaim: Bloom misreads “Agudath Netaim,” Hebrew, “a society of planters,” a company that set up farms in advance for settlers in Palestine. Turkish government: Palestine was part of the Turkish Empire from 1516 to the end of the First World War. Jaffa: seaport in Palestine. Eight marks: eighty marks (G, correction), approximately eighty shillings. dunam: 1000 square meters. Bleibtreustrasse: German, “StayTrue-Street”; according to Louis Hyman, Agudath Netaim was not located at this address. Andrews:

Andrews & Co., tea and coffee dealers, wine and spirit merchants, 19–22 Dame Street. Citron: citrus fruit, also Bloom’s former neighbor. Must be without a flaw: in the Feast of Tabernacles (Sukkoth), palm, myrtle, and willow branches were carried with a perfect citron into the synagogue. navvies handling them barefoot in soiled (G, inclusion). back is like that Norwegian captain’s: from a story told by John Joyce of tensions between a hunchbacked customer and a tailor. On earth as it is […]: from the Lord’s Prayer.

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G 4:240

for ihe read the

Vulcanic lake: the Dead Sea was thought to be in the crater of an inactive volcano. Sodom, Gommorah: two of the “cities of the plain,” destroyed by God for sinfulness in Genesis. Edom: Bloom mistakes Esau’s new name, from Genesis 25:30, for a third city. the first race: descended from Adam, through Noah. Cassidy’s: James Cassidy, wine and spirit merchant, 71 Upper Dorset Street. naggin: noggin, a quarterpint. captivity to captivity: the Jews’ captivity in Egypt, Assyria, and Babylon. a salt cloak: against

God’s command, Lot’s wife turned back to look at Sodom and was made into a pillar of salt, Genesis 19:17. Well, I am here now. Yes, I am here now. Morning mouth (G, inclusion). Towers, Battersby, North, MacArthur: Dublin housing agents. Berkeley Road: northwest of Eccles Street. Mrs Marion Bloom: form of address more intimate than the conventional “Mrs Leopold Bloom.” Mullingar: capital of County Westmeath, roughly fifty miles from Dublin.

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G 4:260

G 4:280

tam: short for Tam o’Shanter, the round, flat cloth cap traditionally worn by Scottish men. Mr Coghlan: the photographer for whom Milly works. seaside girls: 1899 song by Harry B. Norris with the refrain, “Those girls, those girls, those lovely seaside girls.”

moustachecup: cup with inner ledge to keep facial hair dry. sham crown Derby: affordable kind of china. O, Milly Bloom: Bloom’s version of Samuel Lover’s (1787–1868) “O Thady Brady you are my darlin.”

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G 4:320

Là ci darem: abbreviation of “Là ci darem la mano” Italian, “Then we’ll go hand in hand”; duet in Mozart’s 1787 Don Giovanni in which Don Giovanni attempts to seduce Zerlina, having offered to host her wedding to Masetto. Love’s Old Sweet Song: poem by G. Clifton Bingham (1859–1913), set to music by James Lyman

Molloy (1837–1909): Voglio e non vorrei: Italian, “I want to and I would not,” Bloom’s version of Zerlina’s ambivalence, “Vorrei, e non vorrei,” “I would, and I would not.” orangekeyed: with a decorative border of Greek interlocking (key-like) meanders.

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G 4:340

G 4:360

Metempsychosis: ancient Indian, Orphic, and theosophical concept of reincarnation. Dolphin’s Barn: area to the southwest of Dublin where Molly lived with her father when she met Bloom. Ruby, the Pride of the Ring: version of Amye Reade’s Ruby. A Novel. Founded on the Life of a Circus Girl (1889), in which a young girl is sold to a circus master and worked to

death. The monster Maffei desisted […]: quotation from Ruby; Enrico, rather than Maffei, is the circus master in the novel. Hengler’s: popular English circus with a location in the Rotunda Gardens. Bone them: force them to study intensively. Capel street library: 106 Capel Street. Kearney: Joseph Kearney, book and music seller, 14 Capel Street.

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G 4:400

Photo Bits: London weekly magazine featuring photographs, soft pornography, and diverse advertisements. nymphs: beautiful maiden spirits who often transform themselves to escape men or gods in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. changed into an

animal or a tree: as disguise or punishment in Ovid’s Metamorphoses Papli: Hungarian term of endearment for fathers and grandfathers. beef to the heels: ­ thick-legged, like a fattened heifer. scrap picnic: informal picnic.

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G 4:420

G 4:440

Greville Arms: hotel in Mullingar. XL Café: café and restaurant, 84 Grafton Street. Saucebox: cheeky person. Erin’s King that day around the Kish: sightseeing boat that traveled to Kish lightship. funky:

frightened. All dimpled cheeks and curls […]: from “Seaside Girls”; see 60. jarvey: (slang) driver of a hackney-car.

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August bank holiday: public holiday on the first Monday in August. to fag: to toil. Titbits: Tit-Bits from all the Most Interesting Books, Periodicals, and Contributors in the World, a penny-weekly digest, beginning in 1881. The maid was in the garden: after the nursery

rhyme: “Sing a song of sixpence.” Scarlet runners: kind of climbing bean. scabby soil: infected with microorganisms that cause rough patches and infect plants; can be treated with sulphur.

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G 4:480

G 4:500

Loam: fertile soil of clay and sand. oilcakes: made from pressed seeds. clean ladies’ kid gloves: dung was used to clean leather. Drago’s: Adolphe Drago, Parisian perfumer and hairdresser, 17 Dawson Street, 36 Henry Street. Tara street: Dublin Corporation Public Baths, Wash Houses, and Public Swimming Baths. crazy: frail, shaky, cracked. jakes: toilet in an outhouse. The king was in his countinghouse: from the nursery rhyme

“Sing a Song of Sixpence.” cuckstool: cuckingstool, a chair for public punishment; old English, cukken, to defecate. Matcham’s Masterstroke: Philip Beaufoy’s story was published in Tit-Bits as a “Prize Tit-Bit” in the 1890s; Joyce gives it the title of the story he sent the magazine while a teenager. cascara sagrada: Spanish, “sacred bark,” a laxative made of buckthorn bark.

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G 4:520

G 4:540

some proverb which?: some proverb. Which? (G, correction). placket: clothing flap or opening. May’s band: supported by May & Sons, music sellers and professors of music and piano, 130 St Stephen’s Green West. Ponichielli’s dance of the hours: famous ballet dance from Amilcare Ponchielli’s (1834–86) opera La

Gioconda (The Joyful Girl) (1876), representing the changing of the light from dawn till dark, with dancers in appropriately colored costumes. good rich smell (G, inclusion). Heigho! Heigho!: the bells of George’s church, 2 Hardwicke Place, around the corner from 7 Eccles Street.

5 · “LOTUS EATERS” Maud Ellmann

In Book 9 of the Odyssey, Odysseus regales his hosts, the Phaiakians, with the story of his crew’s brief furlough in the land of the Lotus Eaters. Driven off-course for nine days by tempestuous winds, his fleet arrived on the tenth day at an unknown shore, where Odysseus dispatched three scouts to find out if the inhabitants were “men like us perhaps / who live on bread.”1 What they found was a placid people who welcomed the sailors with the local delicacy – not bread, which requires labor, but the lotus that blossoms freely for anyone to enjoy. The crewmen who tasted these flowers forgot the way home, yearning to remain among the Lotus Eaters and feast on the native bloom. Alarmed by his men’s amnesia, Odysseus forced them back on to the ships, ignoring their tears, lest their addiction to the lotus should prevent them from returning to Ithaca. The whole episode comprises a mere sixteen lines, suggesting that Homer, like his hero, sensed the need to cut this perilous temptation short. For the lotus flower, by inducing forgetfulness of home, undermines the logic of nostalgia – the longing for home – that governs the epic. The lotus therefore represents a counter-odyssey, opposed to the idea of homecoming and even to the sense of an ending – the teleological principle of narrative.

1  Homer, The Odyssey, trans. Robert Fagles (London and New York: Penguin, 1997), lines 101–2.

The idea of a land without strife and a life without effort has retained its seductive appeal ever since its evocation in the Odyssey. In defiance of the Protestant ethic, lotus eaters reject the world of work, preferring drugged euphoria to toil and struggle. Why not live off the fat of the land, forgetting the arts of farming, milling, and baking grain for bread, when the lotus provides food and ease for free? Many writers, notably the poet Alfred Tennyson, have revisited Homer’s lotus land, exploring both the charms and the dangers of its drowsy numbness.2 In the 1960s, the Flower Power movement strove to recreate a lotus land by opposing militarism and the rat race with a cult of peace, love, and psychedelic drugs. In Homer, the lotus also turns men into pacifists, luring Odysseus’s crew away from the manly arts of war. Having just sacked the Cicones’ city, slaughtering its men and enslaving its women, the mariners forego violence to chill out with the laid-back lotus eaters. Joyce began conceiving of the “Lotus Eaters” episode while living in Trieste, until the outbreak of the First World War forced him to move his family to neutral Switzerland – hardly a lotus land except as a refuge from the European bloodbath. The family took up residence in Zurich, which had been Joyce and Nora Barnacle’s port of call after they 2  Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “The Lotos-eaters” (1832), in Selected Poems, ed. Christopher Ricks (London: Penguin, 2008), 24–29.

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6  Tram at the corner of Grafton Street and Nassau Street

eloped from Ireland in 1904. What amazed them about Zurich was its extreme cleanliness, evidence of a bürgerlich mentality strikingly at odds with the idle junkies of Homer’s lotus land ( JJ 390). Yet Zurich was also crowded with refugees from messier cities, including Joyce’s friend Ottocaro Weiss, who had come from Trieste to study political economy at the University of Zurich. Joyce, like Homer’s lotus eaters, was physically lazy and opined that every room should have a bed in it ( JJ 394). But Weiss persuaded him to take long walks through the city, which may have influenced the depiction of Bloom’s perambulations in the “Lotus Eaters” episode. Peripatetic though he is, however, Bloom’s flânerie is confined to a narrow radius, suggesting that he shares his author’s distaste for physical activity. In “Lotus Eaters,” he walks to the post office, drops into All Hallows Church, stops at the chemist’s and finally heads towards the “mosque” (83; 5:549–50) of the public baths: a route, according to Clive Hart, which describes the shape of two question marks3 – perhaps alluding to the

questions that threaten the survival of Bloom’s marriage. Both these question marks, moreover, are confined to a few streets, which emphasizes the smallness of Bloom’s sphere of action, as well as his reluctance to exert himself. If Joyce was physically lazy, he was no slouch when it came to revising Ulysses, introducing hundreds of last-minute emendations that maddened his publishers. “Lotus Eaters,” which was first published in the Little Review in 1918, underwent extensive revision in 1921, the final version – as Joyce explained to his patron Harriet Weaver – “much amplified” from its previous form (L I 172). Many of these revisions “strengthen the episode’s leitmotifs,” as A. Walton Litz observes,4 enhancing the symbolic infrastructure of the narrative. In homage to Homer’s lotus, these leitmotifs include the flower, which is identified as a “symbol” of “Lotus Eaters” in the schema that Joyce shared with Carlo Linati. Flowers, which burgeoned in the process of revision, are associated with forgetful drugs – another “symbol” highlighted in the Linati schema – which alleviate the

3  Clive Hart and Leo Knuth, A Topographical Guide to Joyce’s “Ulysses” (Colchester: A Wake Newslitter Press, 1975), 25–26.

4  A. Walton Litz, The Art of James Joyce: Method and Design in “Ulysses” and “Finnegans Wake” (New York: Oxford University Press, 1964), 47.

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7  Lincoln Place Turkish Bath Company

pain of illness, poverty, and colonial oppression. Another leitmotif is skin, which Joyce designated as the “organ” of the episode in the Linati schema. In “Lotus Eaters” the skins of Dubliners bear the “marks of weakness, marks of woe”5 that testify to Ireland’s subjugation. As we shall see, skin is associated with the theme of 5  William Blake, “London” (1794), line 4, in David Erdman, ed., The Complete Poetry and Prose of William Blake (New York: Anchor, 1982), 26.

forgetting that connects Bloom’s absentmindedness with Stephen’s aversion to the “nightmare of history” (34; 2:377). Like Odysseus’s stoned crew, both Joyce’s heroes temporarily forget the way home as they seek imaginative respite from their troubled families and their spellbound homeland, which is still “hiberniating after seven oak ages” (FW 316:15–16) of colonial paralysis. “Lotus Eaters” occurs at the same hour of the morning, ten o’clock, as the “Nestor” ­episode

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5 Sir Rogerson’s Quay to Leinster Street

when Stephen Dedalus is teaching a history lesson to bored schoolboys. In conversation with the headmaster, Mr Deasy, who holds the millenarian view that “All history moves towards one great goal, the manifestation of God” (34; 2:380–81), Stephen delivers his famous zinger that history “is a nightmare from which I am

trying to awake” (34; 2:377). The simultaneity of “Nestor” and “Lotus Eaters” implies a parallel between Stephen and Bloom, who are unconsciously in league in their efforts to escape the nightmare of history. In “Lotus Eaters” Bloom dodges this nightmare by adopting the pseudonym of Henry Flower, thus forgetting

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the history embedded in his name. He has also forgotten his latchkey, a Freudian omission that prevents him from returning to 7 Eccles Street, at least through the front door. In the rampant amnesia of “Lotus Eaters,” he forgets the recipe for “skinfood” (81; 5:497) – Molly’s skin-lotion – and forgets to collect the preparation from the chemist later in the day, when he gets distracted by Gerty MacDowell’s “undies” (335; 13:171). He forgets names, forgets words, forgets physics, forgets the libretto of Mozart’s Don Giovanni, and forgets to fasten the lower buttons of his waistcoat. His pseudonym suggests that Henry Flower is himself the lotus, the forgetful drug that circulates around the postal and commercial arteries of Dublin. The riskiest way that Bloom forgets his home in “Lotus Eaters” is his clandestine correspondence with Martha Clifford, a woman he has never met, who appears in Ulysses only in a single letter. In the “Lestrygonians” episode we learn that Bloom has placed an advertisement in the Irish Times – “Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work” (152; 8:326–27) – to which he has received forty-four replies, including an earnest message from Lizzie Twigg, in real life a nationalist poetaster who published soppy lyrics (e.g. “The wee bird is flying home to its nest”) in Arthur Griffiths’s United Irishman.6 Of all the applicants, only Martha understood the ad’s ulterior erotic motive. Bloom’s secret correspondence creates a parallel universe where Henry Flower can shrug off his humiliation as a cuckold and play the lady-killer. Just as Bloom’s imagination roves among exotic lands, such as Ceylon and Palestine, which he will never visit in the flesh, secrecy enables him to create “a second world alongside the obvious world”7 in which he can indulge in sado-masochistic fantasies without the danger of physical contact. But Martha Clifford proves a reluctant dominatrix, even in epistolary form. Her letter is the second that Bloom receives on 16 June 1904, and like his daughter Milly’s letter 6  See Zach Bowen, “Lizzie Twigg: Gone But Not Forgotten,” James Joyce Quarterly 6:4 (1969), 368–70.

in “Calypso,” Martha’s contains some funny mistakes: “Henry dear, do not deny my request before my patience are exhausted” (75; 5:253– 54). A kind of Freudian slip, this image of exhausted patients weary with suffering tells us more about Martha’s true condition than her affected prose. “I have such a bad headache today,” she complains in the 1922 edition. Gabler, working from the Rosenbach Manuscript, inserts a full stop, “I have such a bad headache. today” (75; 5:255), the redundant punctuation indicating her distraction.8 Bloom suspects she “Has her roses probably” (76; 5:285), a flowery term for menstruation that fits in with the lotus language of the episode. Martha’s half-hearted promises to “punish” her mysterious admirer – “you poor little naughty boy” (74–5; 5:244–47) – reveal a pathetic attempt to titillate this kinky correspondent, against her own vanilla inclinations: “I think of you so often you have no idea” (75; 5:249). Eager to please, Martha tries to live up to her pen pal’s sexual and literary aspirations, making herself out to be a highbrow pervert, but what comes through is loneliness and abjection: “Please tell me what you think of poor me” (75; 5:247–48). The comic contrast between Martha’s hackneyed romantic language – “I have never felt myself so much drawn to a man as you” (75; 5:249–50) – and Bloom’s raunchy fantasies looks forward to the “Nausicaa” episode, where Bloom’s pornographic imagination converges with Gerty MacDowell’s lovey-dovey daydreams – “she looked so lovely in her sweet girlish shyness that of a surety God’s fair land of Ireland did not hold her equal” (334; 13:121–22) – bringing pleasure to both parties at long distance. Martha’s most famous mistake, which recurs throughout the novel as a leitmotif, is her confusion of word with world: “I called you naughty boy because I do not like that other world” (74; 5:244–45). Innocent beyond her years – Martha seems a superannuated ingenue – she doesn’t like the dirty word that Henry Flower has been urging her to use, nor does she know “the real meaning of that word” (74– 5; 5:245–46) – or so she pretends. Her substitution of “world” for “word” could be read

7  Georg Simmel, “The Sociology of Secrecy and of Secret Societies,” The American Journal of Sociology 11:4 (1906), 441–98, at 462.

8  The full stop is not present in the first edition (75).

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as ­symptomatic of this secret romance, which has conjured up a second world through words alone. Later Bloom recalls Martha’s malapropism when he is leaving the cemetery after Paddy Dignam’s funeral in “Hades”: There is another world after death named hell. I do not like that other world she wrote. No more do I. Plenty to see and hear and feel yet. Feel live warm beings near you. Let them sleep in their maggoty beds. They are not going to get me this innings. Warm beds: warm fullblooded life. (110; 6:1001–5).

In this envoi, Bloom rejects “that other world” of death in favor of the warm bed he has left behind, at last forgetting to forget his home. But the threat of mortality still lurks in “Lotus Eaters,” surfacing in images of “pinning” and dismemberment, as well as drugged inertia. Pinned to Martha’s letter is a “yellow flower with flattened petals,” another variant of the Homeric lotus flower. Inspired by this floral tribute, Bloom (or his narrator) translates Martha’s “silly I will punish you letter” (351; 13:787) into the language of flowers: “Angry tulips with you darling manflower punish your cactus if you don’t please poor forgetmenot how I long violets to dear roses when we soon anemone meet all naughty nightstalk wife Martha’s perfume” (75; 5:264–66). While this hilarious bouquet spoofs the traditional language of flowers, lexicons of which were popular in the nineteenth century, Joyce may have known that Kate Greenaway’s Language of Flowers (1884) identifies yellow acacia with “secret love.”9 But Martha’s yellow flower might also be an aconite, in which case its meaning is more ominous, since the genus aconitum is the source of the poison with which Bloom’s father committed suicide. For the most part, however, Bloom’s language of flowers scarcely requires a dictionary: “punish your cactus” (75; 5:264) needs no explanation. As if to avenge this imaginary punishment, Bloom tears up Martha’s envelope – a metaphor for female genitalia – scattering its shreds like lotus petals: “a white flutter then all sank” (76; 5:302). 9  Kate Greenaway, Language of Flowers (London: George Routledge and Sons, n.d.), 7.

Just before this symbolic immolation of the envelope, Bloom speculates about the pin with which the yellow flower is attached to Martha’s letter. “Fingering still the letter in his pocket he drew the pin out of it. Common pin, eh? He threw it on the road. Out of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. Queer the number of pins they always have. No roses without thorns” (75; 5:275–78). In this passage Bloom wards off the threat of castration, implicit in the letter’s message (“punish your cactus”) as well as in the pin, by displacing this threat on to the female body, which he perceives as merely “pinned together,” insecurely fastened in its epidermal envelope. Why does Joyce choose skin as the presiding organ for an episode concerned with forgetting? While memory has inspired a rich ­array of metaphors – the trace, the wax tablet, the mystic writing-pad, the archive, the storehouse, the photograph, the computer – forgetting tends to be figured only as loss: leakage, fade-out, vacancy, obliteration. Psychologists differentiate the faculty of memory into shortterm and long-term; conscious, preconscious, and unconscious; sensory, semantic, procedural, declarative, and episodic. Forgetting, by contrast, is understood only as the negative of all these positives, not as a faculty in its own right. Moreover, memory tends to be associated with depth and forgetting with the superficial surface. Freud, for instance, compared the psyche to the city of Rome, where present-day edifices stand on the ruins of ancient civilizations.10 This vertical model of the mind as an archaeological dig, built in layers reaching back to prehistory, implies that the most ancient stratum is the deepest, whereas recent developments lie closer to the surface. Thus, the past is associated with the innermost essence, and the present with the outward passing show. By analogy, skin could be seen as the most recent layer of the body and accordingly the least memorious. Constantly flaking and disintegrating, skin provides tangible proof of Stephen’s claim in “Scylla and Charybdis” that “molecules all change” (182; 9:205), and that 10  Sigmund Freud, Civilisation and its Discontents (London: Hogarth Press, 1930), vol. xiv, 57–146, at 67–69.

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his body is constantly sloughing off its history, thus absolving him of debts incurred in previous skins. Skin also provides a fitting image for the metonymic structure of Bloom’s stream of consciousness, which flits associatively from surface to surface with a kind of scattershot energy, expanding beyond the limits of the book itself, as attested by the vast apparatus of scholarly concordances and guides to Ulysses. Bloom’s mission in “Lotus Eaters” – which he forgets to complete – is to pick up “Skinfood” for Molly at the chemist’s: “Sweet ­almond oil and tincture of benzoin […] orangeflower water,” which make “her skin so delicate white like wax” (81; 5:490–92). When he orders these concoctions, Bloom is reminded of Prince Leopold, one of Queen Victoria’s sons, who suffered from hemophilia, an affliction attributed by popular belief to having “only one skin”: “Three we have,” Bloom reassures himself (81; 5:498–99). Throughout the episode, Bloom ruminates about the depth, both metaphorical and literal, of skin. When he drops into All Hallows Catholic Church, he mocks confession as a kind of moral striptease, in which female communicants reveal their “lovely shame” (79; 5:431) to prurient priests. This shame, Bloom suspects, is only “skindeep” (79; 5:430), the women’s penitence a shallow pretext for hanky-panky. In a figurative sense, Bloom’s task in “Lotus Eaters” is to save his skin, threatened by wounding from without and leakage from within, as well as from skin diseases that challenge this very distinction. The episode teems with images of skin disease, many of them added by Joyce in the final stages of revision, blotching his clean white proofs with inky blemishes.11 In the chapter’s first paragraph, Bloom catches sight of a little girl with “scars of eczema on her forehead” (68; 5:6–7); later pages refer to smallpox, dandruff, warts, pimples, and barber’s itch. Skin disease spreads across class boundaries, afflicting both the thin-skinned aristocrat Prince Leopold and the spotty guttersnipes of Dublin’s tenements. Bloom is also reminded of Lord Ardilaun, who was rumored to change his

shirt four times a day because his “[s]kin [bred] lice or vermin” (76; 5:307). Joyce’s inventory of skin diseases reflects the historical epidemiology of “dear dirty Dublin,” which lived up to its nickname as one of the dirtiest cities in Europe, as well as one of the sickest. The medical journal The Lancet at the turn of the century deplored the “barbaric uncleanliness” of the city, where schoolchildren were forced to breathe the effluvia emanating from the “hideous quagmire of blood and offal” of the slaughterhouses.12 Only in 1906 did the main drainage system begin to deposit sewage outside the city harbor. Not very effectively, however: Oliver St John Gogarty (the real-life model of Buck Mulligan), who escaped execution during the Civil War in 1922 by swimming across the River Liffey, described the escapade – mindful of the sewage bobbing around his head – as “going through the motions.”13 As a result of this pollution, Dublin was riddled with diseases, including measles, smallpox, typhus, syphilis, and tuberculosis, known in this period as “the Irish disease.” All these diseases presented symptoms on the skin, such as disfiguring spots, ulcerated scabs, fungous infections, and running sores. In this filthy city, Bloom stands out for his personal hygiene, which also marks his difference from Stephen, a “hydrophobe” who has shied away from bathing for the past eight months. At the end of “Lotus Eaters” Bloom runs into Bantam Lyons, a grubby man with “[d]andruff on his shoulders” (82; 5:525) and “yellow blacknailed fingers” (82; 5:523). Feeling soiled by this encounter, Bloom is overcome by the desire for a bath, a “womb of warmth” (83; 5:567–68) in which he will immerse his skin to make it whole again, after its exposure to the broken skins of Dublin: “This is my body” (83; 5:566), he declares, quoting the Communion liturgy. He ends the chapter looking forward to his penis floating like a lotus flower in the bath: “limp father of

11  See Michael Groden, ed., “Ulysses”: A Facsimile of Placards for Episodes 1–6 (New York: Garland, 1978), 85, 90, 91, 180, 187, 199.

13  Cited by James Delaney, James Joyce’s Odyssey: A Guide to the Dublin of “Ulysses” (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1981), 50.

12  Cited by Joseph O’Brien, “Dear Dirty Dublin”: A City in Distress, 1899–1916 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982), 103.

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thousands” (83; 5:571). “Does your reader realize what a unique event this [bath] was in the Dublin I knew up to 1904?” Joyce remarked to his friend Frank Budgen.14 This final scene – much amplified by Joyce in revision to emphasize its “narcissism,” the “technic” of the episode in the Gilbert/Gorman schema – brings Bloom to the brink of oblivion, as if he had overdosed on all the lotuses that crossed his path in Dublin. Bathed in anticipated warmth, Bloom takes narcissistic pleasure in his own body as a respite from his marital vows and fatherly responsibilities, as well as his epistolary intrigue. In the bath his penis becomes the “limp father of thousands,” polyphiloprogenitive in potential but limp and lazy as a lotus eater in reality. Up to now, Bloom has resisted the enticements of the lotus, avoiding drugs like alcohol, tobacco, gambling, and the Catholic Church that “stupefy” his fellow Dubliners. Like Homer’s Odysseus, however, who insists on listening to the Sirens’ song despite its dangers, Bloom has to taste the lotus and escape unscathed. In his imaginary bath, he can eat his lotus and have it too, enjoying the waters of Lethe without forgetting the way home. If Ireland represents the land of the lotus eaters, it’s a long way from heavenly bliss. Dubliners may be couch potatoes but they aren’t at ease; on the contrary Bloom senses “Sleeping sickness in the air” (69; 5:36). Viewing the chemist’s “alabaster lilypots” (81; 5:476–77), Bloom ponders their soporific contents – “Chloroform. Overdose of laudanum. Sleeping draughts” (81; 5:481–82) – and reflects that “[p]oisons [are] the only cures” (81; 5:483). This phrase suggests that the only cure for Dublin’s sleeping sickness is a sleeping draught: “Lulls all pain” (78; 5:367–68). Bloom wonders if horses are happier for being gelded: “Their Eldorado. Poor jugginses! Damn all they know or care about anything with their long noses stuck in nosebags […] Gelded too: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches. Might be happy all the same that way” (74; 5:215–19). Given the anguish that Bloom is suffering about his 14  See Stephanie Boland, “A Note on the Frank Budgen Papers at the Zurich James Joyce Foundation,” James Joyce Quarterly 49:1 (Fall 2011), 22–25, at 24.

­ arriage, castration might be “[o]ne way out m of it” (79; 5:411–12), a lotus in disguise. If the horses find their Eldorado in their nosebags, the Irish have to emigrate to America in search of wealth and happiness. “They never come back,” Bloom reflects (83; 5:547–48). These emigrants, he hints, are lotus eaters who forget the way home. The Irish remaining in their native country, by contrast, must rely on anesthetics for escapism. Joyce’s lotus eaters include both sexes, each with its own drug of choice. The men flock to the pub, the women to the church, which Joyce, like Karl Marx, depicts as the opiate of the people: “Good idea the Latin. Stupefies them first” (77; 5:350–51), Bloom reflects when he drops into a Catholic mass. In these respective gendered institutions men and women gather to imbibe spirits, whether holy or alcoholic. Bloom notes that only “show wine” is provided for the Eucharist: “Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they’d have one old booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a drink” (78; 5:390–92).15 Instead the old boozers stick to the pub, leaving the women to swallow the church’s Kool-Aid: “Waters of oblivion […] Lulls all pain” (78; 5:365–68). While Joyce presents the Irish as druggies in search of oblivion, the Anglo-Irish novelist Elizabeth Bowen laments their obsession with history, expressing the wish that the Irish would remember less, the British more.16 The winners of history, Bowen implies, are blessed with amnesia, whereas the losers are condemned to hypermnesia, unable to let go of the past. Ernest Renan, on the other hand, attributes the health of a nation to a well-adjusted collective memory. In his influential essay What is a Nation? (1882), Renan claims that “the essence of a nation is that all individuals have many things in common, and also that they have forgotten many things.”17 Thus, the cohesion of a ­nation

15  The Gabler edition has “shew wine” (5:390). 16  Elizabeth Bowen, Notes on Eire (Cork: Aubane Historical Society, 1999), 13. 17  Ernest Renan, “What Is a Nation?” in What Is a Nation? and Other Political Writings, ed. and trans. M. F. N. Giglioli (New York: Columbia University Press, 2018), 247–63, at 251.

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depends on forgetting previous disunities. Similarly, Friedrich Nietzsche’s treatise On the Advantage and Disadvantage of History for Life (1874) argues that “without forgetting it is quite impossible to live at all.”18 The wellbeing of a person or a nation, Nietzsche claims, depends on knowing when to remember and when to forget: “the unhistorical and the historical are necessarily in equal measure for the health of an individual, of a people and of a culture.”19 This prescription contradicts the popular wisdom of our day, which constantly exhorts us to confront and commemorate the past, whether at the personal or the collective level. Rather than a healthy nation, Joyce’s Ireland is an ailing colony, suffering from a disordered memory, amnesiac and hypermnesiac by turns. In “Lotus Eaters” Bloom veers to the amnesiac pole, wandering around the city in a lotus-like daze in order to forget his home at 7 Eccles Street, which is shortly to be invaded – like his homeland centuries before – by a “stranger in the house.”20 While Bloom takes little direct notice of his surroundings, his twitchy glances show that Dublin is full of foreign influences, mainly those of Britain – the conquering stranger – and its far-flung colonies. The recruiting poster Bloom encounters suggests that Ireland has forgotten itself, insofar as the country is caught up in the military and commercial operations of the British Empire. Against nationalist propaganda for Irish purity, which Joyce travesties later in the novel in the figure of the proto-fascist citizen of “Cyclops,” “Lotus Eaters” portrays Dublin as a “pluralistic contact-zone”21 where cultures and c­ommodities

18  Friedrich Nietzsche, On the Advantage and Disadvantage of History for Life, trans. Peter Preuss (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1980), 10. 19  Nietzsche, Advantage, 10; quoted in Vincent Cheng, Amnesia and the Nation (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018), 18. 20  In W. B. Yeats’s play Cathleen Ni Houlihan (1902), the Old Woman representing Ireland bewails the presence of “too many strangers in the house,” meaning the British. Yeats, Cathleen Ni Houlihan, in Modern Irish Drama, ed. John P. Harrington (New York: Norton, 1991), 3–11, at 7, 9. 21  Cheng, Amnesia, 54.

mix and mingle, their images transporting Bloom to distant lands. An advertisement for Ceylon tea (another lotus flower), for example, sends Bloom’s imagination on an odyssey to the “far east” (69; 5:29), where he thinks about the “Cinghalese lobbing about in the sun in dolce far niente. Not doing a hand’s turn all day” (69; 5:31–33). In this orientalist fantasy Bloom pictures the Singhalese as lotus eaters, drunk on “Flowers of idleness,” who “Sleep six months out of twelve” (69; 5:33–34). Ceylon, like Ireland, was a British colony until it gained its independence in 1948, becoming the Republic of Sri Lanka in 1972. As Gregory Dobbins points out, “Such ruminations suggest that Bloom has internalized … ‘the myth of the lazy native’ – that feature of national character so often attributed to the colonized, in which an irrational commitment to enjoyment takes priority over the practical and industrious work-ethic necessary to bring about progress and modernization.”22 Although Bloom seems to buy into this myth (forgetting that the average Westerner spends at least four months a year asleep, and often six), he also embodies it himself, at least for the duration of this dozy episode. Palely loitering, Henry Flower assumes the role of the lazy, shiftless native, lobbing about in the “gelid” (53; 4:7) Irish sun, before he goes back to his busy bourgeois life as Leopold Bloom. While his feet are dawdling, however, Bloom’s mind is racing round the globe. Scarcely has he paused in the far east than he parachutes into the Middle East where, prompted by his daydreams about “Lethargy” (69; 5:34), he remembers a photo of a tourist “in the dead sea, ­floating on his back, reading a book with a parasol open” (69; 5:38–39). While this sybaritic image enables Bloom to forget Ireland, providing a momentary respite from his impoverished habitat, it compels him to remember Palestine, the vaunted homeland of the Jews. Now,

22  Gregory Dobbins, Lazy Idle Schemers: Irish Modernism and the Cultural Politics of Idleness (Dublin: Field Day, 2010), 71–72. See also Hussein Alatas, The Myth of the Lazy Native: A Study of the Image of the Malays, Filipinos and Javanese from the Sixteenth to the Twentieth Century and Its Function in the Ideology of Colonial Capitalism (London: F. Cass, 1977).

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Bloom’s credentials as a Jew are compromised, to say the least: uncircumcised, unkosher, unbelieving, and a convert to Catholicism, he has been baptized in both the Protestant and the Catholic Church (635; 17:540–47). His mother, Ellen Higgins, was a Protestant, which rules out any claim to matrilineal descent, a fundamental principle of orthodox Jewish identity. If Bloom has forgotten the faith of his fathers, however, recurrent references to the Holy Land suggest that his ancestral home remembers him, stalking his apostate footsteps. In the previous episode, “Calypso,” for example, the same cloud that darkens the bay in “Telemachus,” making the sea look like a “great sweet mother” (5; 1:77–80), sends Bloom on a mental pilgrimage to the Dead Sea – another sea associated with the mother, albeit an aged crone: “the grey sunken cunt of the world” (59; 4:228–29). Such references suggest a kind of intergenerational haunting,23 whereby Bloom, forgetful of his Jewish heritage, finds himself besieged by ancestral memories of a homeland he has never known. The British psychoanalyst Wilfred Bion posits the existence of thoughts without a thinker;24 similarly, Joyce posits memories without a rememberer, memories that can be accessed only through forgetfulness and loss of self. Such memories well up from Bloom’s unconscious, but not because they are repressed, as Freud would argue, for they belong to an impersonal, transgenerational unconscious rather than a single mind. In the passages discussed above, Bloom’s interior monologue jumps from metonym to metonym, with tea standing for Ceylon, lazy leaves for oriental lethargy, the floating man for Archimedes’ principle of buoyancy. A kind of surface tension holds metaphor at bay: although the Dead Sea in the “barren land” (59; 4:219) could be interpreted as a metaphor for the hero’s blighted marriage, Bloom’s thoughts never sink 23  For the idea of intergenerational haunting, see Nicolas Abraham, “Notes on the Phantom: A Complement to Freud’s Metapsychology,” in Nicolas Abraham and Maria Torok, The Shell and the Kernel, trans. Nicholas T. Rand (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1994), 171–76. 24  W. S. Bion, Second Thoughts: Selected Papers on Psychoanalysis (London: Routledge, 1984), 111–12.

into these depths but surf the waves of free association. Like Molly in her final soliloquy, who tries to fend off thoughts of her dead son – “O Im not going to think myself into the glooms about that any more” (728; 18:1450–51) – Bloom does his best to stay afloat in his emotional dead sea by warding off the “glooms” of memory. For both spouses, metonymy serves as a survival mechanism to distract them from the abyss of the past, enabling them to achieve the balance between remembering and forgetting that Nietzsche deems essential to the health of a person or a nation. In the final scene of “Lotus Eaters,” Bloom unwittingly passes on a racing tip to the flaky, blacknailed Bantam Lyons, who wants to take a squint at the betting figures in Bloom’s Freeman. Bloom offers him the paper: “you can keep it” (82; 5:537), he says; “I was just going to throw it away” (82; 5:534). Lyons misinterprets this throwaway remark as a racing tip about the “dark horse” Throwaway (395; 14:1132), the outsider that won the Gold Cup on June 16 1904 at odds of twenty to one – much to the displeasure of Bloom’s rival Blazes Boylan, who placed a bet on the phallically named Sceptre. Bloom himself could be seen as the “dark horse” who beats the macho Boylan in the race for Molly’s “gold cup”; indeed, Bloom is later called a “dark horse” (321; 12:1558, 1566) on the erroneous assumption that he has made a killing on Throwaway. This farcical misunderstanding could be seen as a throwaway on Joyce’s part, a gratuitous coda bearing little relation to Homer or the elaborate schemata of the episode. But the mix-up shows that Joyce himself throws nothing away, allowing even the most casual detail to bloom with serendipitous associations. Later in “Lestrygonians” Bloom is handed an evangelical “throwaway” (144; 8:6) or leaflet announcing the imminent arrival of Elijah and his emissary, Alexander J. Dowie, a southern revivalist preacher who “is coming! is coming!! is coming!!!” to preach hellfire-andbrimstone sermons in Dublin (144; 8:13–15). Bloom throws this throwaway away, dropping it into the river: “A skiff, a crumpled throwaway, Elijah is coming, rode lightly down the Liffey” (218; 10:294–95). The throwaway, then, could be seen as a floating signifier that undertakes an independent odyssey against the odds, stealing a march on Joyce’s lotus eaters.

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for whatyoumay call read whatyoumaycall

G 5:20

Sir John Rogerson’s quay: at the mouth of the Liffey on its south bank. Windmill lane: Bloom, walking east; sees this intersecting road on his right. Leask’s: H. M. Leask & Co., linseed crushers, oil and linseed manufacturers, 14–15 Rogerson’s Quay. Lime street: Bloom proceeds southward down this street. Brady’s cottages: tenement alley intersecting Lime street. fagbutt: cigarette butt. Townsend street: Hanover Street East turns into Townsend Street, where it passes Lombard Street East; Bloom crosses Townsend and walks south on Lombard. frowning face of

Bethel: Hebrew, Beth, “House of,” El, “God”; name of a Salvation Army hall, located between 19 and 20 Lombard Street East. Nichols’: J. and C. Nichols, funeral- and job-carriage proprietors and undertakers, 26–31 Lombard Street East. Met her once in the park […] With my tooraloom […]: from Arthur Lloyd’s “I Vowed that I Never Would Leave Her” (1862), a song associated with Kelleher. tout: spy, informer. more slowly went over his brow and hair. Then he put on his hat again, relieved: and read again: choice blend (G, inclusion).

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G 5:40

G 5:60

snaky lianas: woody vines typically found in tropical forests. Cinghalese: also spelt “Singhalese,” etc., largest ethnic group of Sri Lanka, formerly Ceylon. dolce far niente: Italian, “delightful idleness or inactivity.” Flowers of idleness: echoes Lord Byron’s Hours of Idleness (1807). Azotes: French, “nitrogen.” Sensitive plants: from Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “The Sensitive Plant” (1820).

It’s a law: Archimedes’ principle, “the principle that the upward force experienced by an object immersed partly or wholly in a liquid is equal in magnitude to the weight of the liquid it displaces” (OED). Thirtytwo feet per second, per second: the rate of acceleration of falling bodies. How did she walk […]: the woman who purchased sausages earlier at Dlugacz’s; see 57.

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divide revie- wing so: review- ing

G 5:80

G 5:100

No, he’s a grenadier: the uniform of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers differed in only small details from that of the Grenadier Guards. Maud Gonne’s letter: published in Freeman’s Journal on 6 June 1904, protesting the British government’s suspension of a requirement to confine soldiers to their barracks at night, which resulted in scores of soldiers seeking out prostitutes. Griffith’s paper: the United Irishmen. halfseasover: slightly

intoxicated. Table : able. Bed : ed.: rhythmic chant for military drills or marches. A mason: Edward VII was grand master of the English Freemasons from 1874 until 1901, when he became king. How’s the body? Hiberno-English, How are you? outsider: jaunting car, a small horse-drawn vehicle where the passengers’ seats face outward. Grosvenor: voguish hotel at 5 Westland Row.

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G 5:120

change comma to question mark ? after him

G 5:140

Brutus is an honourable man: from Mark Antony’s funeral oration, Julius Caesar (iii.ii.88). bends: bender, drinking spree. Conway’s: James Conway & Co., grocers and wine merchants, 31–32 Westland Row. vailed eyelids: lowered eyelids, Hamlet (i.ii.70). Broadstone: Dublin terminus of the Midland Great Western Railway. fostering: foostering (G, correction); fooster, Hiberno-English, to fuss. the Arch: public

house, 32 Henry Street. Paradise and the peri: title of a verse narrative in Thomas Moore’s Lalla Rookh, an Oriental Romance (1817); peris, “delicate, gentle, fairy-like beings of Eastern mythology, begotten by fallen spirits” (Brewer). Esprit de corps: French, “spirit of the body,” i.e. a body of people; pride in or loyalty to a group. Loop Line bridge: supports the elevated train line that runs from Westland Row to Amiens Street station.

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G 5:160

What is home without […] bliss: fictional advertisement for the real potted-meat manufacturer George W. Plumtree, 23 Merchant’s Quay; “to pot one’s meat” is “crude slang for to copulate” (Gifford). Valise tack again: “Mr M’Coy had recently made a crusade in search of valises and portmanteaus to enable Mrs M’Coy to fulfil imaginary [professional singing]

engagements in the country” (D 160). Ulster hall, Belfast: concert hall seating 2000 people. Queen was in her bedroom eating bread and: from the nursery rhyme “Sing a Song of Sixpence.” Dark lady and fair man. Letter. Cat furry (G, inclusion). swagger: ritzy, stylish. Love’s Old Sweet Song […]: see 61. Wheeze: trick. Soft mark: easy victim.

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G 5:180

divide diffe- rence so : differ- ence

G 5:200

tolloll: goodbye. Softsoaping: flattering. Give you the needle: annoy or irritate. fetch: interest, attract. pimping: mocking, deceiving, taking advantage of; or possibly Hiberno-English, spying on, watching. Cantrell and Cochrane’s: British mineral-water company, 3–4 Nassau Place. Clery’s: large department store, 21–27 Lower Sackville (O’Connell) Street. Ristori: Adelaide Ristori (1822–1906), Italian actress,

performed a version of Leah in Vienna adapted especially for her. Mosenthal […] Rachel: Bloom misremembers the name of the source play for Leah, Salomon Hermann Mosenthal’s (1821–77) Deborah (1850). Nathan’s voice! His son’s voice!: from Leah, as Abraham recognizes his son. hazard: cabstand on Great Brunswick Street. Nosebag time: time for food.

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G 5:220

G 5:240

Eldorado: Spanish, “the city of gold,” a mythical place where gold was superabundant. jugginses: fool. doss: place for sleeping. guttapercha: coagulated latex of Malaysian trees, similar to rubber. Voglio e non: “I would like to and not,” from Don Giovanni; see 61. Là ci darem la mano […]: “Then we’ll go hand in hand”; see 61. Meade’s timberyard: Michael Meade & Son, builders and contractors, sawing, planing, and moulding mills,

and joinery works, 153–59 Great Brunswick Street. shooting the taw with a cunnythumb: taw, the large shooting marble in a game of marbles; cunnythumb, to shoot inexpertly, with one’s thumb curled behind the middle finger. Mohammed cut a piece […]: hadith, or tradition, that Mohammed cut off his coat sleeve so as to not awaken a cat that slept on it. world: Martha has accidentally, but suggestively, misspelled “word.”

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G 5:260

G 5:280

I want to know. x x x x He tore (G, inclusion). Language of flowers: assignment of symbolic or cryptological meanings to flowers; the following are from the anonymous dictionary, The Language of Flowers (1913). tulips: dangerous pleasures. manflower: phallic euphemism. cactus: phallic euphemism,

but also “touch-me-not.” forgetmenot: true love, remembrance. violets: modesty. roses: love and beauty. anemone: daintiness, hopefulness. nightstalk: another term for nightshade, phallic euphemism, also falsehood. the Coombe: poverty-stricken street and surrounding district in south-central Dublin.

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G 5:300

O, Mairy lost the pin of her drawers: song or street rhyme unknown outside Ulysses. Martha, Mary: Lazarus’s sisters; Martha resented Mary for listening to Jesus’s teachings rather than helping to prepare a meal but was rebuked by Jesus for her resentment, Luke

10. hole in the wall at Ashtown: water hand-pump near the Hole in the Wall pub at the Ashtown Gate to Phoenix Park. trottingmatches: Phoenix Park Race Course, outside the Ashtown Gate, held trotting-pony matches at the annual Dublin Horse Show.

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G 5:320

insert fullstop after mission

for whit read with

G 5:340

All Hallows: St Andrew’s Church, 45–46 Westland Row. work M’Coy for a pass: obtain a press pass through M’Coy; see 65. saint Peter Claver: (c.1581– 1654), Spanish jesuit missionary, worked in Colombia to convert slaves and abolish slavery. African mission: Jesuit missionary work in Africa. Save China’s millions: nineteenth-century Jesuit campaign. William J. Walsh D. D.: (1841–1921), Catholic Archbishop of Dublin (1885–1921), strongly opposed Parnell. Ecce Home: Ecce Homo (G, correction); Latin, “Behold the man,” Pilate on seeing Jesus, John 19:5. Saint Patrick: St

Patrick (c.385–c.461) illustrated the distinct-yet-united Trinity using the tri-lobed shamrock. sodality: Roman Catholic guild or brotherhood for devotion or mutual help. halters: cords for leading horses; here, sodality sashes. the thing: ciborium, cup that holds communion wafers. (are they in water?): the priest’s rapid sign of the cross with the wafer might appear to be flicking off water. Then the next one. Her hat sank at once. Then the (G, inclusion). Corpus: Latin, “body.” Hospice for the dying: Our Lady’s Hospice for the Dying, Harold’s Cross, run by the Sisters of Charity.

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G 5:360

G 5:380

for show read shew

Mazzoth: matzo, unleavened bread for Passover. shewbread: unleavened bread “for show” on the Temple’s golden altar. Hokypoky: trickery. Lourdes cure: Lourdes, southwestern France, site of a 1858 Marian apparition, thus its spring water supposedly possesses miraculous healing qualities. Knock apparition: in the village of Knock in County Mayo in 1879, Mary Beirne and Mary McLoughlin saw apparitions of Mary, St Joseph, and St John. I. N.

R. I.: Latin, Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudæorum, “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” I. H. S.: first three letters of Jesus’s Greek name, Ihsous. Denis Carey: in fact, Peter Carey testified against the Invincibles. crawthumpers: Hiberno-English, from craghe, throat; a person who beats their breast, an “ostentatiously devout person” (Dolan). rinsing out the chalice: then he tossed off the dregs: Bloom’s outsider description of the ceremony of purification.

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G 5:400

G 5:420

Stabat Mater: Latin, “the Mother was standing” (at the foot of the cross); 1841 work by Italian composer Gioacchino Rossini (1792–1868). Quis est homo?: Latin, “Who is the man?” Mercadante: seven last words: Le sette ultime parole di Nostro Signore, “The Seven Last Words of Our Lord,” by Italian composer Giuseppe Saverio Raffaele Mercadante (1795–1870). Mozart’s twelfth mass: the Gloria: the Gloria by Wenzel Müller (1767–1835) was misattributed to Mozart; Mozart’s Twelfth Mass is usually called the “Missa Longa.” Palestrina: Giovanni Pierluigi da

Palestrina (1525–94), Italian composer. Benedictine: chartreuse-like liqueur brewed by Benedictine monks in southern France. Green Chartreuse: liqueur made by monks at La Grande Chartreuse, a Carthusian monastery near Grenoble, France. holding the thing: the missal, from which the last Gospel is read. How long since your last mass?: Bloom’s variation on the ritual question “How long since your last confession?” Gloria and […] Peter and Paul: phrases from the priest’s prayer; Bloom mishears “glorious” as “Gloria.”

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G 5:440

for rhe read the G 5:460

Salvation army blatant imitation: public confession was one of the evangelical practices of the Salvation Army. Squareheaded: sensible. P. P.: parish priest. doctors of the church: theologians formally recognized by the pope. Blessed Michael, archangel […] souls: second vernacular prayer to end the Low Mass. Glimpses of the moon. Annoyed if you don’t. Why didn’t you tell me before. Still like (G, reinsertion of displaced lines). placket: clothing flap or opening.

Prescott’s dyeworks: William T. C. Prescott, dyeing, cleaning, and carpet-shaking establishment, 8 Lower Abbey Street. Sweny’s in Lincoln place: F. W. Sweny, dispensing chemists (pharmacy), 1 Lincoln Place. beaconjars: chemists’ shops advertised themselves with hanging jars filled with colored liquids. Hamilton Long’s: Hamilton, Long & Co., Ltd, perfumers, state apothecaries, and mineral water manufacturers, 107 Grafton Street.

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G 5:480

G 5:500

philosopher’s stone: believed in medieval alchemy to transmute base metals into gold or silver. Aq. Dist.: abbreviations on apothecary jars; distilled water. Fol. Laur.: Laurel leaves. Te Virid.: green tea. Doctor whack: “curative power of a heavy, smart, resounding blow” (Gifford). Electuary: medicinal paste of powder and honey, preserve, or syrup. emulsion: oil or resin dispersed in water. turns blue litmus paper red.: acid turns blue litmus paper red; chloroform is neutral. Paragoric poppysyrup: paregoric, pain reliever made

from poppies and containing small amounts of opium. benzoin: resinous substance used in the preparation of benzoic acid in medicine, and in perfumery. duke of Albany was it?: Prince Leopold, Duke of Albany (1853–84) was haemophilic. Peau d’Espagne: French, “Spanish leather”; perfume with a similar smell. Hammam: the Hammam Family Hotel and Turkish Baths, 11–12 Upper Sackville (O’Connell) Street; the Turkish and Warm Baths are nearby, at 11 Leinster Street.

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G 5:520

change fullstop to question mark ? after soap delete ’ after Lyons’

G 5:540

Good morning, have you used Pears’ soap?: advertising slogan for a well-known English soap. Gold cup: one of the British racing calendar’s two main events, held at Ascot on June 16, 1904 at 3 p.m. throw

it away: a horse called Throwaway ran in the 1904 Gold Cup, at twenty-to-one odds. Conway’s corner: Conway’s public house, 31–32 Westland Row. scut: contemptible person.

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G 5:560

the mosque of the baths: Joyce has Bloom think of the facade of the Lincoln Place Turkish Baths (see Figure 7, p. 132) although it closed for business in 1900; Bloom visits the Leinster Street Turkish and Warm Baths. College sports: the Trinity College Bicycle and Harrier Club held a meeting on June 16, 1904, at College Park. cyclist doubled up like a cod in a pot: after the song “Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ye,” “like a cod you’re doubled up head and tail.” Keep him on hands: maintain an acquaintance. on the nod: on credit, for free. Over after over. Out […] Duck for

six wickets: cricketing terms. Captain Buller: Captain C. F. Buller (1846–1906), Irish-born cricket player for Middlesex and Harrow. slog: cricket, a hard hit. square leg: cricket, field position. Donnybrook fair: famously rowdy fair in Donnybrook, suburb of Dublin, dating to the reign of King John (1199–1216), abolished in 1855. And the skulls we were acracking […]: from Robert Martin’s song “Enniscorthy” (1889). laved: washed, bathed. father of thousands: after the common Irish and English plant Saxifraga sarmentosa, “mother of thousands.”

6 · “HADES” Barry Devine

8  The Old Circle, Glasnevin Cemetery

“Hades” begins at 11 a.m. in Sandymount, a small suburb in south Dublin, near the home of Bloom’s departed friend, Paddy Dignam. Bloom boards a funeral carriage with several acquaintances: Simon Dedalus, Stephen’s father, and both Martin Cunningham and Jack Power from the Dubliners story “Grace.” The carriage heads north across the city to the cemetery and the funeral service. In this episode, readers get to see Bloom spending time with his carriage mates and joining conversations that cast them as friends, but which also cast Bloom as an outsider among his peers.

The action of this episode coincides with the end of the “Proteus” episode. Shortly after the funeral carriage begins its journey north, Bloom spots Stephen Dedalus walking along the street, just about to start his pensive walk along Sandymount Strand (85; 6:41–53). This sighting of Stephen gives the reader a clue that the timelines of Bloom and Stephen have now lined up as opposed to the parallel time structure of the first five episodes; all future episodes will follow this newly consolidated timeline. As the episode begins, Bloom is making his way to encounter the ghosts that haunt him in Dublin’s land of the dead – Glasnevin Cemetery.

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The “Hades” episode, or rather what would eventually become “Hades,” was integral to the plot of Ulysses from Joyce’s earliest conception of it as a short story in 1906 – sixteen years before the complete novel was published. Joyce was in Rome working on revisions for Dubliners stories, when he was inspired to write a new story “centered on a Jewish cuckold’s trip to Glasnevin Cemetery and the rejection, in a pub after the funeral, of his claims for Irish citizenship.”1 Even at this early stage of the development of Ulysses, the elements from which the “Hades” and “Cyclops” episodes would grow are present. Bloom, who identifies as Jewish, but who has what Patrick A. McCarthy calls “a problematic relationship to his Jewish heritage,” quietly suffers the uninhibited anti-Semitism of his carriage mates, which casts him as an outsider, even among those he calls his friends;2 he accurately suspects Molly will be unfaithful to him in a matter of hours; he is about to visit Glasnevin Cemetery to mourn his friend, Paddy Dignam, although it is uncertain how well Bloom actually knew him; and in the forthcoming twelfth episode, “Cyclops,” Bloom will have to defend his Irish bona fides in Barney Kiernan’s pub. “Hades,” therefore, is half of the acorn from which the rest of the novel would eventually grow. By the following year Joyce had begun to expand his concept of the story. He now planned to write “a short book” in the spirit of Ibsen’s Peer Gynt (JJ 265). Joyce’s brother, Stanislaus, wrote in his diary on November 10, 1907: Jim told me that he is going to expand his story “Ulysses” into a short book and make a Dublin Peer Gynt of it. I think some suggestions of mine put him in the way of making it important. As it happens in one day, I suggested that he should make a comedy of it, but he won’t. It should be good. (JJ 265)

Whether it was the influence of his brother or the absurdity of Peer Gynt’s adventures and predicaments that pushed him toward humor, 1  Rodney Wilson Owen, James Joyce and the Beginnings of “Ulysses” (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1983), 3. 2  Patrick A. McCarthy, “Ulysses”: Portals of Discovery (Boston, MA: Twayne Publishers, 1990), 82.

Joyce did eventually decide to make Ulysses a comic novel. The exact date of this turning point and Joyce’s reasons remain uncertain, but by the time he started writing the novel for serial publication, the humor was evident, even in “Hades,” which takes place at a funeral. The earliest published version of “Hades” appeared in the American journal Little Review, in September 1918. It shows some of this humor, but as a whole, it was a rather somber episode filled with Bloom’s thoughts about his father’s suicide, the tragic death of his son, Rudy, the impending affair between Molly and Boylan, and his general thoughts on death and

9 The grave of Parnell, with the O’Connell monument and mortuary chapel in the background

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14

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13

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Mater Misericordiae Hospital

Dignam’s Home, 9 Newbridge Avenue Tritonville Road London Bridge Road Watery Lane Bridge Street Great Brunswick Street D’Olier Street Sackville Street (O’Connell Street) Rutland Square and Rotunda Gardens Frederick Street Blessington Street 7 Eccles Street Berkeley Road Phibsborough Road Finglas Road Prospect Cemetery, Glasnevin 250

500

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6 Sandymount to Glasnevin Cemetery

Sandymount

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funerals.3 Three more years would pass before Sylvia Beach agreed to publish the entire novel from her Paris bookstore, which freed Joyce from the space restrictions and censorship he was encountering with the Little Review and the American legal system. In August 1921 Joyce began making revisions to the novel at a furious pace. Over the next two months, while simultaneously revising and composing several other episodes, Joyce increased the size of “Hades” by over 30 percent, adding material from his various notebooks, including many jokes and humorous thoughts that run through Bloom’s head.4 What we are left with is an episode that is both hilarious and profoundly moving. While we laugh at Bloom’s quirky thoughts, we are also reminded of the great pain and paralyzing fear his personal losses cause him. The humor in this episode works, not only to entertain the reader, but also to further endear Bloom to us as we get to know him in these early episodes. We learn much about this modern version of Odysseus in this episode that helps us to understand who Bloom is, what motivates him, what causes him pain, and how his experiences on this day coincide with those of Homer’s great hero. In Book 10 of Homer’s Odyssey, the goddess Circe sends Odysseus on a terrifying journey to the underworld to seek advice from the spirit of the blind prophet, Tiresias, before sailing for Ithaca.5 Odysseus makes this journey to the underworld in Book 11 and learns from the spirit that Poseidon is angry at him for blinding Polyphemus, the giant cyclops and Poseidon’s son.6 Tiresias explains that Odysseus may return home safely, but that Poseidon wants him to suffer first. He warns Odysseus that Poseidon will kill all of his men

3  James Joyce, The Little Review Ulysses, ed. Mark Gaipa, Sean Latham, and Robert Scholes (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015), 78–99. 4  Barry Devine, “Daren’t Joke About the Dead: James Joyce’s Concerted Effort to Include Humor in the ‘Hades’ Episode of Ulysses,” Genetic Joyce Studies 14 (2014), 1–5. 5  Homer, The Odyssey, trans. Emily Wilson (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2018), 10:486–540. 6  Ibid., 11:100–37.

should they harm any of the oxen belonging to the sun god, Helios, and that, furthermore, there will be suitors waiting to fight him upon his return to Ithaca.7 Odysseus encounters many other spirits in the land of the dead, and Joyce lists several who have clear corresponding identities in this episode.8 As Stuart Gilbert points out, the correspondences to Homeric characters in “Hades” are “nearer the surface” than in other episodes.9 This may be due to the fact that “Hades” was central to Joyce’s initial plan for the novel, and he focused more on the Homeric parallels earlier on than in later episodes where some of the correspondences become more tenuous. The relative clarity of the parallels in “Hades” makes them both easier and more fun to identify for first-time readers. Elpenor is a soldier of Odysseus who dies while drunk just before they set sail, and whose spirit arrives in Hades before Odysseus. Paddy Dignam, whose funeral is the centerpiece of this episode, drank himself to death and his remains arrive in Glasnevin Cemetery, Dublin’s land of the dead, before the mourners. Sisyphus, who eternally rolls a heavy stone up a hill only for it to fall back again, is represented here by Martin Cunningham, whose wife, we learn in the Dubliners story, “Grace,” “was an incurable drunkard. Cunningham had set up house for her six times and each time she had pawned the furniture on him” (D 122). Cerberus, the multi-headed dog that guards the house of Hades is represented by Father Coffey, whom Bloom describes in canine terms. Hades, God of the Dead, is only mentioned by Homer and does not appear to Odysseus. John O’Connell, the caretaker of Glasnevin Cemetery, does appear in the episode and plays the governing role of Hades. Hercules (Heracles), the great hero, is represented by Daniel O’Connell, “The Irish Liberator,” who features briefly in Bloom’s thoughts. Agamemnon was murdered by his wife and her lover upon his return from the 7  Ibid. 8  Richard Ellmann, Ulysses on the Liffey (New York: Oxford University Press, 1972), Appendix. 9  Stuart Gilbert, James Joyce’s “Ulysses” (New York: Vintage, 1962), 167.

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Trojan War. Charles Stewart Parnell takes on this role, as his demise is frequently blamed on Katherine O’Shea, with whom he had a long affair. Ajax, the great soldier who begrudges Odysseus for receiving Achilles’ armor, still refuses to talk to Odysseus in the underworld. In this episode, he is John Henry Menton, who holds a grudge against Bloom for embarrassing him in a game of lawn bowling. The Linati Schema also points out several other spirits whose correspondences Joyce does not identify, so we are left to speculate playfully about who they might be:10 Eriphyle, of whom the only description in the Odyssey is, “accepting golden bribes, she killed her husband,”11 Orion, the famous giant and hunter, who is only briefly mentioned in Book 11 of the Odyssey as the basis of comparison to the giant stature of Otus and Ephialtes;12 Laertes, father of Odysseus, was still alive during the events of the Odyssey, which makes his presence on this list a bit of a mystery; Prometheus who is not mentioned in the Odyssey, but suffers the same fate in Hades as Tityus, whose liver is eaten eternally by two vultures;13 Tiresias, the famous blind prophet from Thebes, who tells Odysseus how to return home safely; Proserpina (Persephone) the wife of Hades, queen of the dead; Telemachus, Odysseus’s son, who is also alive and well according to the spirit of Odysseus’s mother, Anticlea; Antinous, the chief suitor of Penelope back home in Ithaca, who is not mentioned in Book 11 of the Odyssey, but whom Joyce includes among the Homeric personae. There are good 10  Joyce made two different schemata or outlines for the novel. He made the first schema in 1920 for his friend, Carlo Linati, in order to help him better understand the novel even as it was still very much a work in progress. After the book was published, Joyce secretly circulated another schema to several people. These two schemata differ slightly. The second one, often called the Gorman-Gilbert Schema, identifies several correspondences between the characters of Homer and Joyce. Richard Ellmann offers a helpful comparison of them in the appendix to Ulysses on the Liffey. 11  Homer, 11:329. 12  Ibid., 5:117–24 , 11:305–21. 13  Ibid., 11:577–83.

arguments to be made for the corresponding characters in this episode of Ulysses, but Joyce never confirmed their identities. Many of these correspondences are ironic, which lends humor to the episode, and they may help readers better understand the relation between Odysseus’s treacherous journey to the underworld and Bloom’s far less dangerous journey to Glasnevin Cemetery. Unlike Bloom, who travels across the figurative landscape of the underworld throughout the episode, Odysseus remains stationary in the Odyssey. In accordance with the prescribed ritual, he digs a hole in which he pours honey, wine, water, and barley, he slaughters a ram and a black ewe, stands guard over the pool of sacrificial blood, and calls on the spirits to address him.14 He permits these spirits to approach him, one at a time, to consume some of the blood, which allows them to speak with the living.15 In order to recreate Bloom’s journey across the landscape of the underworld, Joyce drew on a representation of the afterlife by another of his major literary influences – Dante Alighieri. Joyce turns to Dante frequently in nearly all of his fiction. Mary Trackett Reynolds argues that “Joyce’s imagination was saturated with Dante” and that he “was probably engaged with Dante more broadly and deeply than he was with any other author except Shakespeare and Homer.”16 It stands to reason, then, that Joyce would turn to Inferno as much as to the Odyssey in his recreation of the landscape of the underworld. In the Odyssey, Odysseus hears the names of the four great rivers of the underworld from Circe (the Acheron, Styx, Phlegethon, and Cocytus), but he never actually sees them. Dante, however, guided by the spirit of Virgil, traverses the entire infernal landscape from its famously inscribed gate, through all nine circles of tortured souls, across all four rivers, and to the bottom of the frozen pit, where they climb the giant body 14  Ibid., 11:22–36. 15  Ibid., 10:514–516. 16  Mary Trackett Reynolds, Joyce and Dante: The Shaping Imagination (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981), 3.

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of Lucifer to emerge from the other side of the earth. Similarly, Bloom and his carriage companions traverse the city of Dublin, cross the Dodder River, the Grand Canal, the River Liffey, and the Royal Canal on their way to Glasnevin Cemetery, where they attend the funeral and emerge once more into the land of the living. This subtle mimetic element is exemplary of what Reynolds calls “the elusive yet pervasive” influence Dante had on Joyce and all of his writing.17 New readers will find the style of “Hades” familiar and comfortable. However, there is much to take in in terms of plot progression, character development, and early twentiethcentury Irish culture and humor. Given its central place in the development of the novel, “Hades” carries great narrative weight and provides readers with crucial information that will be developed in later episodes. Some of this information is explained below to help first-time readers know what to watch for as they make their way through this and subsequent episodes. The plot of Ulysses, just like Homer’s Odyssey, is fairly simple – our deeply despondent hero wanders around and eventually makes it home to his wife. As Bloom attends the funeral of Paddy Dignam, his thoughts turn to the other sources of his profound sadness. Not only is he deeply wounded by the impending affair between his wife and Boylan, he is also still mourning the death of his son and his father’s suicide, as well as the fact that his daughter is growing up. While he is never in any physical danger like Odysseus or Dante, Bloom faces great psychological challenges in “Hades” that affect him just as deeply. As much as he tries to avoid thinking about Molly’s looming affair, it enters his mind twice during this trip to the cemetery. The first occasion takes place early in the episode as the funeral carriage passes Queen’s Theatre. Bloom thinks of different performances he could see that night, which leads to thoughts of Molly’s performances, and eventually to Boylan. “He’s coming in the afternoon. Her songs” (89; 6:190). These

17  Ibid., 4.

thoughts seem magically to summon Boylan in the flesh as the carriage passes him on the street. Bloom thinks, “Just that moment I was thinking [...] Is there anything more in him that they she sees? Fascination. Worst man in Dublin” (89; 6:197–202). The second instance is more subtle. Bloom is thinking about the decomposition of corpses and the maggots attracted to them. He thinks, “Soil must be simply swirling with them. Your head it simply swurls. Those pretty little seaside gurls” (105; 6:783–85). While Boylan’s name does not cross Bloom’s mind, the altered spelling of “swurls” and “gurls” is a reference to Boylan and his unique rendition of the song, “Seaside Girls.”18 Bloom thinks of Boylan’s unique pronunciation in “Calypso” after Milly mentions it in her letter. “Swurls, he says” (64; 4:440). This connection remains in Bloom’s head throughout the day and will come up repeatedly throughout the novel. Perhaps most troubling for Bloom in this episode are the constant reminders of his infant son’s death ten years, five months, and eighteen days ago; Rudy was born on 29 December 1893 and only survived for eleven days (687; 17:2274–84). Bloom and Molly have not had sexual intercourse since five weeks previous to that date nearly eleven years ago (687; 17:2274– 84). We learn in this episode that Bloom blames himself for his son’s weak health and early demise. A funeral coach bearing a tiny white coffin passes by Bloom and his carriage companions. He instantly recalls Rudy’s death: “Our. Little. Beggar. Baby. Meant nothing. Mistake of nature. If it’s healthy it’s from the mother. If not the man” (92; 6:326–29). This explains not only why Bloom’s intense grief persists after nearly eleven years, but also why he has not had intercourse with Molly since then; he is afraid that he will produce another child who will not survive. There are several other instances in which Bloom thinks about Rudy, including a brief reflection on the life he never got to have with a son. Just after Bloom sees Stephen on the street, Simon Dedalus goes on a tirade against Buck Mulligan, whom he considers a bad i­nfluence 18  Zack Bowen, Musical Allusions in the Works of James Joyce: Early Poetry Through “Ulysses” (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1974), 85–91.

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on Stephen. Bloom imagines what having a son would have been like: “If little Rudy had lived. See him grow up. Hear his voice in the house. Walking beside Molly in an Eton suit. My Son. Me in his eyes. Strange feeling it would be. From me” (86; 6:75–77). This brief exchange and direct connection between Stephen and Rudy foreshadows the eventual meeting between Bloom and Stephen. We also learn in this episode that Bloom’s father, Rudolph, committed suicide in a hotel in Ennis, County Clare. Bloom is forced to sit through an uncomfortable conversation in the carriage as Mr Power talks about the disgrace of suicide. Bloom’s thoughts turn to the scene of his father’s death: “Thought he was asleep first. Then saw like yellow streaks on his face. Had slipped down to the foot of the bed. Verdict: overdose. Death by misadventure. The letter. For my son Leopold” (93; 6:362– 64). We actually learn several pages earlier that the letter contained a wish that Bloom care for his father’s dog, Athos (87; 6:125–28). These thoughts and others about Bloom’s father appear throughout the episode, and even extend to dialogue among other characters outside the hearing of Bloom himself. Bloom’s daughter, Milly, is alive and well on this day in 1904. We learn in “Calypso” that she is studying to be a photographer in Mullingar, and that she writes regular letters to her father to keep him updated. Milly and Bloom are very close, and he sadly recognizes the inevitable changes in their relationship as she grows older. Shortly after recalling the morning Rudy was conceived, he thinks: “Molly. Milly. Same thing watered down. Her tomboy oaths. O jumping Jupiter! Ye gods and little fishes! Still, she’s a dear girl. Soon be a woman. Mullingar. Dearest Papli. Young student. Yes, yes: a woman too. Life. Life” (86; 6:87–90). In this short passage Bloom reflects on her childhood, the fact that she is now living away from home and writes him letters, and that she fancies a young student – possibly her first boyfriend. Later in the episode Bloom considers an unannounced visit to her in Mullingar. He quickly rejects this idea, realizing that, being more independent, she might not appreciate the surprise (96, 97; 6:445–51, 483–85). Bloom is saddened by the fact that his daughter, the one positive thing in

his life at this moment, is slowly slipping away just by growing up. Other things to watch for in this episode are references to popular culture in Dublin at this time. There are dozens of references to the songs and literature that had become part of the social fabric of Dublin life. Some of these references are overt, as when Bloom thinks of Thomas Gray’s famous poem “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” while imagining “more interesting” inscriptions on headstones. “Eulogy in a country churchyard it ought to be that poem of whose is it Wordsworth or Thomas Campbell” (109; 6:940–41). Bloom gets both the title and the author of the poem wrong, but he is clearly thinking of Gray’s popular poem. Other references are far more subtle and serve to show how deeply literature and music were embedded in the lives of the characters, such as when Bloom and his carriage mates pass the house where Thomas Childs was murdered. His thoughts wander to the fact that people are drawn to sensational cases involving murder. “They love reading about it. Man’s head found in a garden. Her clothing consisted of. How she met her death. Recent outrage. The weapon used. Murderer is still at large. Clues. A shoelace. The body to be exhumed. Murder will out” (96; 6:479–82). The last, “murder will out,” is a phrase made famous by Chaucer in both “The Prioress’s Tale” and “The Nun’s Priest’s Tale.” In addition to phrases like this from literature, many popular songs of the time have permeated the language of the characters. Both Bloom and Simon make separate references to the song “The Hat My Father Wore” by Johnny Patterson.19 In Bloom’s thoughts he paraphrases the lyrics to the song as the carriage passes a man on the street selling bootlaces. The man is still wearing an old silk hat that he once wore when working in a prestigious office. “Has that silk hat ever since. Relics of old decency” (90; 6:234). Simon Dedalus, not knowing what was in Bloom’s head just moments before, makes a general reference to the song when the carriage companions lament the loss of Dignam: “As decent a little man as ever 19  Don Gifford with Robert J. Seidman, “Ulysses” Annotated: Notes for James Joyce’s “Ulysses” (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988), 109, 110.

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wore a hat” (92; 6:303). This, and many other casual references to songs and literature, demonstrate how deeply embedded these works are in Dublin culture. Just the slightest hint at the meaning behind them will inspire the men in the carriage to reference them, either aloud or in their own thoughts as in Bloom’s case. Bloom’s sense of humor is also on full display in the language of “Hades.” As noted above, the Little Review version was rather somber, but when Joyce added material to the episode, he included much humor. In the Little Review version, Joyce has the caretaker tell a joke to Cunningham and Hynes about two drunk men visiting the grave of a departed friend. Martin Cunningham explains that the joke is meant “[t]o cheer a fellow up [...] It’s pure goodheartedness” (103; 6:737–38). It seems that Joyce took that sentiment to heart as he made his final revisions by adding many jokes, puns, and humorous thoughts to cheer up his readers. Among this new material is much of the language for which the episode is most well known, including numerous puns and jokes about death and mortality. For example, Bloom thinks about Judgement Day and the resurrection of Lazarus: “Once you are dead you are dead. That last day idea. Knocking them all up out of their graves. Come forth, Lazarus! And he came fifth and lost the job. Get up! Last day!” (102; 6:677–79). He also included more subtle humorous references to death and mortality. As the carriage is approaching the top of O’Connell Street, Bloom notices the businesses gathered there and thinks, “Dead side of the street this” (92; 6:316). When Bloom is trying to remember whether or not he wrote the address correctly on one of the secret letters he sent to Martha Clifford, he thinks, “Did I write Ballsbridge on the envelope I took to cover when she disturbed me writing to Martha? Hope it’s not chucked in the dead letter office” (103–4; 6:742–44). While the priest is delivering the service for Dignam, Bloom thinks about how he looks bloated and then says of the entire cemetery, “Must be an infernal lot of bad gas round the place” (100; 6:607–8). Bloom’s frankness when thinking about death, even as it relates to his own departed loved ones provides both connection and contrast to the thoughts of Stephen from the

“Proteus” episode. Bloom’s thoughts about death, decomposition, and mortality are typically dispassionate and practical, and they are often funny. When he sees a rat in the graveyard, he thinks of it eating the flesh of dead people, “[o]rdinary meat for them. A corpse is meat gone bad. Well and what’s cheese? Corpse of milk” (110; 6:981–82). Stephen also thinks of death and decomposition when he sees the dead dog on Sandymount Strand, but in great contrast to Bloom’s lighthearted musings, Stephen relates the dead animal to himself. He sees a living dog approach the carcass of the dead dog and thinks, “[a]h, poor dogsbody. Here lies poor dogsbody’s body” (46; 3:351–52). Stephen uses the exact phrase, “[a]h, poor dogsbody” that Mulligan directed at him earlier that morning (6; 1:112). There are many other correspondences that both set Bloom and Stephen apart from one another and connect them. They both, for example, share the same odd thought about rats hiding treasure (44, 110; 3:289–90, 6:975–76). New readers should watch for these points of correspondence and contrast. One final thing to notice in this episode is one of the novel’s most enduring and unexplained mysteries. As the mourners gather around the grave site for the internment, Bloom notices a man he does not recognize. “Now who is that lankylooking galoot over there in the macintosh? Now who is he I’d like to know? Now, I’d give a trifle to know who he is. Always someone turns up you never dreamt of” (105; 6:805–7). The identity of this man is never revealed, although he is mentioned several more times in the novel as The Man in the Macintosh, M’Intosh, or simply described as a man wearing a brown macintosh. His identity continues to bother Bloom for the rest of the day; he appears in Bloom’s hallucinations in the “Circe” episode and is among his final thoughts as he is preparing for bed after his eventual return home in the “Ithaca” episode. Both casual readers and scholars have offered theories as to who the man in the macintosh might be, ranging from either Captain Sinico or Mr Duffy from “A Painful Case,” to God, to the ghost of Bloom’s father, and even to Joyce himself. We will probably never get an answer to this mystery.

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G 6:20

the lowered blinds of the avenue: Irish funeral tradition. Huggermugger: secrecy; in Hamlet Claudius says of the burial of Polonius, “And we have done but greenly / In huggermugger to inter him” (iv.v.83–84 ).

slipperslappers: slippers; Old Mother Slipperslapper, character in the nursery rhyme “The Fox.” Then getting it ready: preparing the corpse. Molly and Mrs Fleming making the bed: memory of Rudy’s death.

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for ten read nine

G 6:40

for aying read saying

G 6:60

number ten: Dignam’s house is at 9 Newbridge Avenue, Sandymount. Tritonville road: runs from Sandymount north into Irishtown. a fine old custom: that the funeral procession passes through the center of the city to allow Dubliners to acknowledge it. Watery lane: now Dermot O’Hurley Avenue, off Irishtown Road. a lithe young man, clad in mourning, a wide hat: Stephen, en route to Sandymount Strand. fidus Achates: Latin, “faithful Achates,” Aeneas’s close friend in Virgil’s Aeneid. costdrawer: cost accountant. lump of dung: Simon Dedalus’s distortion of Richie

Goulding’s term of endearment, “lump of love”; see 39. the wise child that knows her own father: proverbial expression. Ringsend road: runs west from Ringsend toward central Dublin. Wallace Bros the bottleworks: Wallace Brothers, Ltd, steamship owners and coal importers, 13 D’Olier Street; James Alex King, bottle manufacturer, Ringsend Road. Dodder bridge: stone bridge across the Dodder River in Irishtown. Goulding, Collis and Ward: Collis and Ward, solicitors, 31 Dame Street, where Goulding works as a clerk. Stamer street: south-central Dublin street near the Grand Canal.

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change question mark ? to comma after this

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I’ll tickle his catastrophe: buttocks; from Henry IV 2 (ii.i.68) “Away, you scullion! You rampallian! You fustilarian! I’ll tickle your catastrophe.” counterjumper’s: contemptuous term for a shop clerk. Selling tapes in my cousin, Peter Paul M’Swiney’s: Joyce’s grandmother’s cousin (Lord Mayor of Dublin in 1864 and 1875), opened M’Swiney & Co., a large department store on Sackville Street, later Clery & Co. Eton suit: costume based on the uniform worn by the students at the

exclusive public school, with black, waist-length, open jacket with broad labels, waistcoat, and trousers. Raymond terrace: stretch of South Circular Road; the Blooms lived there before moving to Lombard Street West. the cease to do evil: “Cease to do evil – learn to do well,” motto over the door of Richmond jail on South Circular Road. Greystones: small fishing town and summer resort on the Wicklow coast, south-southeast of Dublin. yoke: HibernoEnglish, thing, thingamajig.

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G 6:140

grand canal: skirts the southern perimeter of central Dublin and runs to the west coast of Ireland. Gasworks: the Alliance and Consumer Gas Company, 110 Great Brunswick Street; smoke from its coalburning was thought to cure coughs. Flaxseed tea:

popular remedy. Scarlatina: scarlet fever. Dogs’ home: the Dogs’ and Cats’ Home, Grand Canal Quay. Thy will be done: from the Lord’s Prayer, “Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven,” Matthew 6:10; Luke 11:2.

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down the edge of the paper: obituaries were printed in the left-hand column of the first page of the Freeman’s Journal. Callan, Coleman, Dignam […]: these obituaries did not appear in the Freeman’s Journal of June 16, 1904. Peake: character from “Counterparts” in Dubliners. Crosbie and Alleyne’s: C. W. Alleyne, solicitor, 24 Dame Street, Dublin; Alleyne, a lawyer, appears in “Counterparts,” in Dubliners. the Little Flower: Thérèse of Lisieux

(1873–97), Carmelite nun with a cult following. Month’s mind: commemorative mass said one month after a person’s death. National School: St Andrew’s Boys’ and Girls’ National School, 114–21 Great Brunswick (now Pearse) Street. Meade’s yard: timberyard; see 74. the hazard: cabstand; see 73. jarvies: drivers of hackney-cars; see 64. pointsman: person who adjusts the movable rails that direct trains from one line of tracks to another.

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G 6:180

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Antient concert rooms: prominent venue for privately sponsored concerts on Great Brunswick Street. saint Mark’s: on Mark Street, off Great Brunswick Street. railway bridge: Loop Line Bridge; see 71. Queen’s Theatre: Queen’s Royal Theatre, 209 Great Brunswick (now Pearse) Street; major Dublin theater. Lily of Killarney: melodramatic operetta of Boucicault’s The Colleen Bawn, music by Sir Julius Benedict (1804–85), produced by the Elster Grimes Grand Opera Company. Big powerful change: “Another Big Powerful Change,” advertisement in Freeman’s Journal for Marie Kendall at the Empire Palace Theatre. Fun on the Bristol:

musical-comedy version of Henry C. Jarret’s “American Eccentric Comedy-Oddity,” at the Theater Royal with Eugene Stratton. Gaiety: Gaiety Theatre, 46–49 South King Street; major Dublin theatre. Plasto’s: hatter; see 55. Sir Philip Crampton’s […] bust: (1777–1858), surgeon general to Her Majesty’s Forces in Ireland, surgeon to Queen Victoria; the Crampton Memorial sat at the intersection of Great Brunswick, D’Olier, and College Streets. airing his quiff: with his hat off. Red Bank: Burton Bindon’s Red Bank Restaurant, 19–20 D’Olier Street. flashed reply: spruce figure: passed (G, inclusion).

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Mary Anderson: (1859–1940) American actress; performing at Ulster Hall, Belfast. Louis Werner: Anderson’s conductor and accompanist. topnobbers: nob, notable person. his deathday: Smith O’Brien died on June 18. Farrell’s statue: Sir Thomas Farrell (1827–1900) sculpted Smith O’Brien’s statue. Oot: a call for horses to go forward (Wright). struck off the rolls: disbarred from the practice of law. Tweedy: Henry R. Tweedy, solicitor, 13 Hume Street. Relics of old decency: from “The Hat My Father Wore” by Johnny Patterson. like snuff at a wake: it was customary at

wakes to offer snuff to guests. O’Callaghan on his last legs: Felix O’Callaghan, protagonist of His Last Legs (1839), farce by the American William Bayle Bernard (1807–75). No: vorrei e non: the correct line; see 61. Mi trema un poco il: Italian, “My heart trembles a little,” Zerlina in Don Giovanni. Jury’s: Jury’s Hotel, 7–8 College Green. the Moira: hotel, 15 Trinity Street. Liberator’s form: statue of Daniel O’Connell. the tribe of Reuben: Reuben J. Dodd. Elvery’s elephant house: John W. Elvery & Co., India rubber manufacturers, tennis and cricket outfitters, 46–47 Lower Sackville Street.

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Gray’s statue: Sir John Gray. the isle of Man: island in the Irish Sea on the Dublin–Liverpool steamship route in Joyce’s time. hobbledehoy: clumsy, awkward youth. Drown Barabbas: from Matthew 27:20; Pilate offers the Jews a choice between the release of Barabbas, a

thief, or of Jesus; Barabas dies in a cauldron of scalding water in Christopher Marlowe’s The Jew of Malta (1589). piking it: (slang) departing. chiseller: (Dublin slang) a tough little boy.

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G 6:300

G 6:320 for Matew read Mathew for tinycoffin read tiny coffin

Nelson’s pillar: 121-foot column bearing a 13-foot statue of Admiral Nelson. John Barleycorn: (slang) whiskey. adelite: gray-yellow mineral. land agents: represented (often absentee) landlords. temperance hotel: Edinburgh Temperance Hotel, 56 Upper Sackville Street. Falconer’s railway guide: John Falconer, printer, publisher, stationer, publisher of the ABC Railway Guide, 53 Upper Sackville Street. civil service college: Maguire’s Civil Service College,

civil-service, university, and commercial tutors, 51 Upper Sackville Street. Gill’s: M. H. Gill & Son, Ltd, booksellers, publishers, and bookbinders, 50 Upper Sackville Street. catholic club: the Catholic Commercial Club, 42 Upper Sackville Street. the industrious blind: Richmond National Institution for the Instruction of the Industrious Blind, 41 Upper Sackville Street. Chummies and slaveys: chimney sweep’s assistants and maids-of-all-work. Foundation

stone for Parnell: base (1899) for a statue (1907) by the American sculptor Augustus Saint-Gaudens. White horses […]: Catholic custom of using white in a child’s burial. Rotunda corner: complex housing a maternity hospital, a theater, and a concert hall, at Great Britain Street. friendly society: mutual insurance society that pays sick benefits and funeral expenses.

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G 6:360

Rutland square: now Parnell Square. Rattle his bones […] Nobody owns: from Thomas Noel’s song “The Pauper’s Drive.” In the midst of life: from the Church of England Book of Common Prayer. But the worst […] his own life: suicide is a mortal sin, according to the Catholic Church, but not the worst. Refuse christian burial: the Catholic Church refused religious services and burial in consecrated ground for suicides; English law from 1823 permitted burial

in consecrated ground and from 1882 permitted religious services. to drive a stake of wood through his heart in the grave: custom that persisted until 1823. Found in the riverbed clutching rushes: resembling Ophelia, Hamlet (iv.vii.167). And they call […] The geisha: “The Jewel of Asia,” from the light opera The Geisha, music by James Philip, libretto by Harry Greenbank. The coroner’s sunlit ears (G, inclusion).

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the Basin: the City Basin reservoir, west of Berkeley Street. Has anybody here […] double ell wy: “Has Anybody Here Seen Kelly?” music-hall song by Clarence Wainwright Murphy and Will Letters. Dead March from Saul: from G. F. Handel’s (1685–1759) 1738 oratorio Saul. He’s as bad […] on my ownio: from “Has Anybody Here Seen Kelly?” which references “Oh! Oh! Antonio” (1908), by Murphy and Dan Lipton. The Mater Misericordiae: largest hospital in Dublin in 1904; see 8. Our Lady’s Hospice for the Dying: see 77. He’s gone over […] the lying-in

hospital: Dixon has moved to the National Maternity Hospital on Holles Street. drove of branded cattle […]: in the Odyssey, Orion herds in the Underworld wild animals that he hunted while alive. Springers: cows in calf. Cuffe: Joseph Cuffe of Laurence Cuffe & Sons, cattle, corn, and wool salesmen, 5 Smithfield; Bloom’s former employer. Roast beef for old England: from the song (c.1730), by Richard Leveridge (1670–1758). the corporation: Dublin Corporation, ruling body of the city. from the parkgate to the quays: the north bank of the Liffey.

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for panse read pause

G 6:440

municipal funeral trams like they have in Milan: electric railway from the center of Milan to the graveyards outside the city. Dunphy’s: corner of Phibsborough and North Circular Roads, named after a pub once owned by Thomas Dunphy. Elixir of life:

whisky; uisce beatha, Irish, “water of life.” his dropping barge: the barge is being lowered in the canal lock west of Crossguns Bridge. Aboard of the Bugabu: after the title of a satirical ballad by J. P. Rooney about navigating a turf barge.

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delete fullstop after on

G 6:460

G 6:480

Athlone, Mullingar, Moyvalley: towns on the Royal Canal. old crock, safety: dilapidated “Safety” bicycle. Wren: P. Wren’s Auction Rooms, 9 Bachelors Walk. James M’Cann’s bobby: James M’Cann, chairman of the Grand Canal Company, died February 12, 1904. row me o’er the ferry: from the poem “Lord Ullin’s Daughter,” by Thomas Campbell (1777–1844). Brian Boroimhe house: pub named after Brian Boru (Boroimhe) (926–1014), king of Munster. Fogarty: grocer on Glasnevin Road; character from “Grace” in Dubliners. Left him weeping: Kernan owes Fogarty money in “Grace.” Though lost to sight […]: from 1840 song “To Memory You Are Dear,” by George

Linley (1798–1865). silent shapes: cemetery sculptures at Thos. H. Dennany’s stonecutter’s yard on Prospect Avenue. Jimmy Geary: J. W. Geary, church and churchyard attendant. where Childs was murdered: Thomas Childs was murdered at Bengal Terrace in 1899; his brother, Samuel, was acquitted. Better for ninetynine […]: after Sir William Blackstone (1723– 80) “It is better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer” and Luke 15:7. unweeded garden: Hamlet on his mother’s marriage to Claudius (i.ii.135–37). The murderer’s image […]: superstition (Gifford). Murder will out: proverbial phrase.

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Prospect: Prospect Cemetery, Glasnevin. Simnel cakes: rich plumcake, enclosed in a hard dough crust; recalls the food Odysseus gives Cerebus in Hades. Got here before us: Dignam’s corpse; Odysseus, meets

Elpenor’s spirit in Hades, not knowing he had died. skeowways: Hiberno-English, askew. Mount Jerome: Protestant cemetery at Harold’s Cross. The mutes: hired silent mourners.

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for steping read stepping

G 6:540

the Queen’s hotel in Ennis: owned by Bloom’s father. the cardinal’s mausoleum: Edward Cardinal MacCabe (1816–85), archbishop of Dublin, cardinal from 1882. Artane: critics have debated whether the men plan to send Patsy Dignam to the Artane Industrial School or the O’Brien Institute for Destitute Children, Donnycarney. Todd’s: Todd, Burns & Co., Ltd, silk mercers, linen and woolen drapers, tailors, and boot and shoe and furnishing warehouse, 17–18, 47 Mary Street, 24–28 Jervis Street. Wise men say […]

in the world: from the song “Three Women to Every Man,” by Fred Murray, Fred R. Leigh. For Hindu widows only: suttee, Hindu practice in which a woman dies on her husband’s funeral pyre. Widowhood […] not even a king: Queen Victoria mourned her husband and Prince Consort Albert for the remaining forty years of her life; she was buried in the tomb she designed for them in Frogmore Lodge at Windsor Castle. Cork’s own town: 1825 song by Thomas Crofton Croker (1798–1854).

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G 6:580

Cork park races: horse races held annually in Cork Park, Cork City; Easter Monday meetings drew especially large crowds. Same old six and eightpence: same old story; after the standard fee for a lawyer or, possibly, for burying an executed criminal. get up a whip: (slang) make a collection. I owe three shillings to O’Grady: after the 1887 song “I owe $10 to

O’Grady,” by Harry Kennedy. Which end is his head?: a corpse is carried with the feet pointing forward in a Catholic funeral. praying desks: kneelers with ledges for prayer books. the font: receptacle holding holy water. a brass bucket with something in it: aspergillum, for holy water. Who’ll read the book? I, said the rook: from the nursery rhyme, “Who killed Cock Robin?”

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G 6:600

for full of up read full up of

G 6:620

Dominenamine: garbled version of In nomine Domini, Latin, “In the name of the Lord.” Bully about the muzzle: like a bulldog. Muscular christian: Charles Kingsley (1819–75), Anglican clergyman, novelist, poet; argued a strong body was conducive to morality and faith. Thou art Peter: Jesus renames Simon as Peter, from the Greek petra, declaring “upon this rock I will build my church,” Matthew 16:18. Non inters […]: Latin, “Do not weigh the deeds of your servant, Lord,” beginning of the Absolution, following the funeral mass. Crape weepers: mourning badges made from

gauzy fabric. altarlist: list of the deceased to be prayed for at mass. Mervyn Browne: Mervin A. Browne, professor of music and organist, 48 Drumcondra Road. vaults of saint Werburgh’s: church with twentyseven vaults, built in 1178, Werburgh Street. stick with a knob: literal description of an aspergillum. Et ne nos […] tentationem: Latin, “And lead us not into temptation,” from the Lord’s Prayer. In paradisum: Latin, “Into paradise,” the opening words of “May the angels lead you into Paradise,” said or sung as a coffin is carried to the grave.

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G 6:660

The O’Connell circle: O’Connell’s original burial place, grassed circle with yew trees and funerary monuments encircled by a sunken street of vaults; O’Connell’s remains were moved in 1869 to the O’Connell monument, a replica of an Irish round tower. his heart is buried in Rome: O’Connell died in Genoa in 1847, and his heart was placed in

the church of St Agatha in the Irish College in Rome. Her grave: Mary Goulding Dedalus. In the same boat: Bloom and Kernan are not practicing Catholics. The service of the Irish church: the service of the Protestant Church of Ireland, in English rather than Latin.

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I am the resurrection and the life: from the funeral service of the Church of Ireland; Jesus’s declaration to Martha, the sister of Lazarus, John 11:24–26. last day idea: “everyone which seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may have everlasting life: and I will raise him up at the last day,” John 6:40. Come forth, Lazarus!: Jesus, at the tomb of Lazarus, John 11:43. tooraloom

tooraloom: song associated with Kelleher; see 68. Mat Dillon’s, in Roundtown: former village, south of Dublin, now suburb called Terenure. Wisdom Hely’s: Hely’s Ltd, stationer and printer, 27–30 Dame Street; Bloom’s employer for roughly six years, starting in 1888. coon: sly, knowing fellow; an offensive term for a Black person (OED); a person in hopeless difficulty (Beale).

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John O’Connell: John K. O’Connell, superintendent of Prospect Cemetery, Glasnevin. your custom: your patronage. Habeat corpus: Habeas corpus, Latin, “you

should have the body,” writ requiring the presence of a person before the judge or in the court. Ballsbridge: wealthy suburb in southeast Dublin.

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G 6:760

for carcase read carcass

delete first lean G 6:780

Silver threads among the grey: after the 1874 song “Silver Threads Among the Gold,” words by Eben E. Rexford, music by Hart Pease Danks (1834–1903). when churchyards yawn: from Hamlet (iii.ii.414). a queer breedy man: O’Connell was rumored to have many illegitimate children. Will o’ the wisp: ignus fatuus, flitting phosphorescent light thought to be spontaneously combusting gases emitted by decaying matter in marshy ground. Whores in Turkish graveyards: from James Ellsworth DeKay’s Sketches of Turkey by an American (1833). Love among

the tombstones. Romeo: from Robert Browning’s 1855 poem “Love Among the Ruins”; Romeo and Juliet (v.iii). In the midst […] are in life: see 93. to grig: Hiberno-English, from griogadh, Irish, “incitement,” irritate, annoy. Major Gamble: Major George Francis Gamble, registrar and secretary of Mount Jerome Cemetery at Harold’s Cross. jews they said killed the christian boy: anti-Semitic notion that Jews sacrificed Christian children in rituals. Deathmoths: death’s head moth, named after the skull-like marking on its thorax.

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swurls […] gurls: from “Seaside Girls”; see 60. Gravediggers in Hamlet: two riddling men who dig Ophelia’s grave in v.i. De mortuis nil nisi prius: Latin, “Of the dead (speak) nothing (bad) but first”; Bloom substitutes nisi prius, a legal term, for bonum. We come to bury Caesar: Mark Antony’s funeral oration from Julius Caesar (iii.ii.79). His ides of March or June:

Julius Caesar was killed on the ides of March, March 15; Dignam died on the ides of June, June 13. galoot: awkward, ungainly person. Robinson Crusoe […] Friday: in Daniel Defoe’s (1660–1731) Robinson Crusoe (1719), Crusoe is buried by a native man he calls Friday. O, poor Robinson […] possibly do so: from the nursery rhyme, “Poor Old Robinson Crusoe.”

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Bit of clay from the holy land: Jewish burial custom, placing soil from Palestine in coffins of Jews buried in other places. Only a mother […] in the one coffin: Jewish burial customs do allow people to be buried together in certain cases. The Irishman’s house is his coffin: inverts the proverb “An Englishman’s home is his castle.” Lombard street west: the Blooms’ home from 1892–93. a donkey brayed. Rain: Irish superstition, a donkey braying at midday forecasts rain. No such ass. Never see a

dead one, they say: Irish proverb, “Three things no person ever saw, a highlander’s kneebuckle, a dead ass, a tinker’s funeral” (P. W. Joyce). Lucia. Shall I nevermore behold thee?: from the 1835 opera Lucia di Lammermoor by Gaetano Donizetti (1797–1848), after Sir Walter Scott’s novel The Bride of Lammermoor (1819). Even Parnell. Ivy day dying out: supporters of Parnell wore a leaf of ivy on the anniversary of his death, October 6, 1891; see “Ivy Day in the Committee Room” in Dubliners.

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for there’sns read there’s no

G 6:880

for the repose of his soul: Catholic practice of praying for the dead to aid their passage through purgatory to heaven. Someone walking over it: superstition that when one shivers in the sun someone has walked over one’s grave. towards Finglas: former village, now northwestern Dublin suburb, northwest of Prospect Cemetery. took heart of grace: plucked up

courage. Louis Byrne: Louis A. Byrne, MD, coroner of the City of Dublin, 79 Harcourt Street. Got the run: Hiberno-English, was fired. Levanted with: stole off with. Charley, you’re my darling: from “Charlie Is My Darlin’,” Scottish folk song in honor of Charles Stuart (Bonnie Prince Charlie, 1720–88), words by Lady Nairne (1766–1845).

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insert comma after pillars

Has anybody […] double ell: from “Has Anyone Here grave at all: Parnell was rumored to be alive, his sealed Seen Kelly?” see 94. the chief’s grave: Parnell’s grave, coffin filled with stones. old Ireland’s hearts and opposite the chapel. Some say that he is not in that hands: song by Richard F. Harvey.

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All souls’ day: November 2, holy day commemorating the faithful dead. Twenty-seventh […] at his grave: anniversary of Bloom’s father. paid five shillings in the pound: settled his debts at one-quarter of what he owed. Eulogy in a country: after the 1751 poem “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” (1751) by Thomas Gray (1716–71). God’s acre: cemetery. Church Times: conservative weekly Church of England newspaper. Immortelles: flowers that retain their color and texture when dried, from the French, immortals. chainies: damaged chinaware. Sacred

Heart: representation of Jesus’s glowing, visible heart, from the visions of Margaret Mary Alacoque (1647–90). Would birds come then […] Apollo that was: Apollo is confused with Apelles, Greek painter of the fourth century bce, associated here with the rendering of a boy bearing a basket of grapes by fifth century bce artist Zeuxis, from a story by Pliny. How many!: after Dante’s Inferno (3:55–57), “So long a train of people, I never should have believed death had undone so many.” As you are now so once were we: common line in epitaphs.

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an old stager: veteran, old hand. Robert Emery. Robert […] wasn’t he?: the name on the gravestone reminds Bloom of Robert Emmet. Voyages in China: on Bloom’s bookshelf. Priests dead against it: cremation, associated with pagan religions, makes the resurrection of the body impossible. Devilling: pun on “to devil,” to work as a junior legal counselor for a barrister. Time of the plague: fire and quicklime were used to dispose of the bodies of plague victims in the fourteenth and seventeenth centuries. Ashes to ashes:

part of the “Burial of the Dead” in the Book of Common Prayer. Where is that […] Eaten by birds: Parsee custom of exposing the dead to the sun and vultures using dakhma, “towers of silence.” Mrs Sinico’s funeral: character who dies in uncertain circumstances in “A Painful Case” in Dubliners. Tantalus glasses: trick glasses, named after the Homeric character Tantalus, who is surrounded by fruit and water in the Underworld but when he tries to alleviate his hunger and thirst they recede. Got his rag out: (slang) grew angry.

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sailed inside him […] the bias: Bloom beat Menton at ding, dent. chapfallen: with a hanging lower jaw due to a game of lawn bowling with a lucky curveball. dinge: dejection. sappyhead: foolish person.

7 · “AEOLUS” Terence Killeen

With “Aeolus,” we enter the world of work, of industrial production. It is something of a critical truism to say that little productive work gets done in Ulysses: several episodes are set in workplaces, such as the National Library, Holles Street maternity hospital, even Bella Cohen’s brothel, but the focus is not on the work being done there. Thus, in the “Oxen of the Sun” episode, the very important work of the birth of baby Purefoy takes place offstage, as we remain in a side room attending the exchanges of the male occupants. But in “Aeolus,” we are plunged into the world of work, just as we are plunged into “THE HEART OF THE HIBERNIAN METROPOLIS” (112; 7:1–2), as the very first crossheading puts it.1 We have such crossheads as “HOW A GREAT DAILY ORGAN IS TURNED OUT” (114; 7:84) and “WE SEE THE CANVASSER AT WORK” (115; 7:120). There is a very strong focus on the mechanics of newspaper production in this first part of the episode, descriptions of the printing works and the “caseroom,” where type is generated by the noisy Linotype machines and then slotted as “formes,” or large blocks of type, into the big page “chases” (metal containers which hold the type) with great skill, before an impression of the page is taken which is used to generate the thousands of copies of the newspapers. 1  The correct term for these interspersed inscriptions in the text is “crossheading” or “crosshead.” See Stephen Donovan, “SHORT BUT TO THE POINT: Newspaper Typography in ‘Aeolus,’” James Joyce Quarterly 40:3 (Spring 2003), 519–43.

This is the episode where we see Leopold Bloom engaging in his actual job (he has one), that of advertisement canvasser. Essentially, Bloom solicits ads on behalf of the Freeman’s Journal group, which includes the Evening Telegraph, the main focus of the episode. If he finds an advertiser, and the terms for the ad’s appearance are agreed between the advertiser and the paper, Bloom will receive a percentage of the payment the advertiser makes. He does not get a salary, just this commission from a successful ad placement, so the livelihood he makes is precarious at best. (Still, that day, as we learn from the “budget” in the “Ithaca” episode, he does receive a commission of £1.7s.6d from the Freeman, presumably for successfully placing an earlier ad.) Hence the importance for him of securing an ad from Keyes. As we see in the course of the episode, Bloom is not very successful: he pitches the ad to Joseph Nannetti, the caseroom foreman. Nannetti makes the proviso that the advertiser, Keyes, give the paper a “three months’ renewal” (116; 7:160), meaning he has to pay the paper for the ad to appear over three full months. It falls to Bloom, then, to negotiate these new terms. He is partially successful, as Keyes agrees to give a two months’ renewal (rather than three) but when Bloom puts this proposition to the Telegraph editor, Myles Crawford, he receives the memorable response: “Will you tell him he can kiss my arse?” (140; 7:981). So, at the episode’s end, the status of the ad remains problematic. It fades from view as the book goes on, although it is the reason

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10 Nelson’s Pillar

for Bloom’s presence in the National Library in “Scylla and Charybdis” and it crops up again in “Cyclops.” Bloom’s pursuit of Keyes’s ad is only one strand of a complicated episode which features many comings and goings in a way that can be quite confusing for readers. Briefly, when Bloom leaves the printing works and enters

the Evening Telegraph offices, he finds Professor McHugh, Simon Dedalus, and Ned Lambert there. Shortly after, J. J. O’Molloy enters. Then the editor, Myles Crawford, emerges from his inner sanctum. At this point, Mr Dedalus and Ned Lambert leave. Lenehan emerges from the editor’s office. Bloom leaves to meet Keyes about the ad around the corner in Bachelors

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11 A boy selling newspapers at Harcourt Street Station

Walk. Next, Stephen Dedalus enters with Mr O’Madden Burke (Stephen has just missed his father and has just missed Bloom). The group in the office then remains stable until the end, when they all leave and go for a drink, to be paid for by Stephen, at which point Bloom briefly joins them. It is difficult for a reader to keep track of all these people, many of whom we are meeting for the first time, though their distinctly different personalities do gradually come through. These comings and goings make for a fractured narrative, a fractured reading e­ xperience. And this sense of fracturing is greatly enhanced by the presence of the multiple crossheadings through the text. These items are in many ways the first shock to the reader, the first intimation that this book, already difficult enough in several respects, is going to provide many challenging scenarios as the semi-autonomous episodes march on, generally growing in complexity and radical stylistic innovations. Where do these crossheads come from and what are they for? It becomes apparent that

they are meant in some way to replicate the experience of reading a newspaper, although some of them are very remote from any imaginable newspaper content. They are also sometimes reflective of the history of newspaper prose, with the earlier crossheadings written in pompous terms (“WITH UNFEIGNED REGRET IT IS […]”) (114; 7:77) and the later in more contemporary, alliterative vein (“DIMINISHED DIGITS PROVE TOO TITILLATING […]”) (143; 7:1069). Bizarre as the episode appears on one level, these crossheadings are part of the encyclopaedic form of Ulysses, its ambition to include everything, even at the most literal level. There is a curious kind of literalism to deciding that an episode set in a newspaper office requires this feature in order to replicate in some way the actual experience of reading a newspaper. It is not surprising that these crossheadings were added very late in the writing process. The version of the episode which appeared in the New York magazine, Little Review, in 1918 does not contain them, and the text originally flows much more freely without them.

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7 Princes Street to Bachelors Walk

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Certainly, their inclusion, from the very start of the episode, inaugurates a sense of alienation in the reader which much of the subsequent text reinforces. One thing we have become used to in the previous six episodes is the centrality of either Stephen or Bloom: Stephen in the first three, Bloom in the next. Certainly in the sixth episode, the picture expands somewhat: in “Hades” we become more aware of the wider Dublin male social world in which Bloom, and to a lesser extent Stephen, are embedded. But in “Aeolus” that world largely takes over. While the episode features both Bloom and Stephen, and the interior monologue with which we have become familiar, these passages are much more marginal to the episode than they have been hitherto. The talk of the men gathered in the Evening Telegraph office is much more central. For much of this Bloom is missing and Stephen, though not unaffected by it, is largely an auditor, not contributing much until the very end. Accordingly, it becomes more difficult to find a focus, a reliable point of view from which to judge events. This lack of a stable point of view is furthered by the very heterogeneous backgrounds of the people gathered in the Telegraph office. Only the editor, Lenehan, and Bloom could be considered as involved in the newspaper business (Professor McHugh does have a sideline in it, as a leader writer) (123; 7:378–81). The others are drop-ins, such as Stephen, or hangers-on, such as Mr O’Madden Burke. This group is actually far removed from the business of newspaper production, which is done elsewhere in the building. Instead, these men are devoted exclusively to discourse, to holding forth, to fine phrases and rhetorical effects. The question of the status of rhetoric in this environment is a complex one. When Bloom first enters the office, those present are mocking a speech delivered the previous evening by a local politician, Dan Dawson, because of its “flowery” rhetorical effects, complete with “purling rill” (119; 7:243). Their scathing critique is a purely rhetorical exercise (although when Professor McHugh sarcastically refers to “our lovely land” and Bloom simply asks “Whose land?” the professor responds: “Most pertinent question” [120; 7:271–73]). These men are

connoisseurs of oratory and persuasive speech; they relish proper rhetorical effects and wellbalanced periods. It is Dawson’s excesses, not rhetoric per se, that they reject. This is an important distinction, sometimes overlooked by critics who think of this Dublin coterie as captivated by rhetoric of any sort. But we can easily undervalue their appreciation of such skills, given the limited rhetorical skills in the contemporary public sphere. Rhetoric is very much a part of these characters’ culture, just as music is. This episode features rhetorical figures of all kinds, not only in the mouths of the various characters, but also in its narration. It works its way systematically through virtually all the figures of classical rhetoric, as defined by rhetoricians such as Quintilian. This comprehensiveness is another aspect of the book’s encyclopaedic form, its ambition to incorporate all knowledge within its purview. Joyce, in a letter to the Italian critic Carlo Linati, described the book he was writing as an “epic,” and he meant it (SL 270–71). Thus, on the first page, the passage, “Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince’s stores and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float bumped dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of Prince’s stores” (112; 7:21–24), is an example of chiasmus, the inversion of the order of words in successive clauses. The innocent reader is being treated to this display more or less unbeknownst, while trying to follow what is actually happening in the “story.” The effect is a dislocating and somewhat alienating one. It marks a decisive break from the ethos and style of the earlier episodes, written in what Joyce called “the initial style,” a style that features above all the stream of consciousness. This episode, with its multiple rhetorical devices, with its displacement, to some extent, of the two main characters of Bloom and Stephen, and above all the intrusion of the ubiquitous crossheadings strewn throughout the text, is something else again. It is the most stylistically radical episode until “Sirens.” When it comes to the interpretation of the episode, there is a canonical (perhaps overcanonical) starting point, namely the schemas that Joyce produced of the book’s structure and

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symbolism. These give the points in Homer’s Odyssey to which aspects and characters of each episode correspond. In the relevant ­ passage in the Odyssey, Odysseus visits the island of Aeolia, ruled over by king Aeolus, who has power over the winds. Aeolus is initially helpful to Odysseus, confining all the unfavorable winds that are preventing him from reaching Ithaca into a bag, which he gives to the hero. Unfortunately, Odysseus falls asleep just as the ship is nearing Ithaca and his crew open the bag, curious about its contents and suspecting it contains treasure. The ship is blown back to Aeolia, where Aeolus refuses any further help, saying Odysseus is cursed by the gods. As the schema indicates, Aeolus is Myles Crawford, the editor. Aeolus gives his six daughters to his six sons in marriage; in “Aeolus,” incest is equated to journalism. The Press is a Floating Island, since Homer describes Aeolia as floating in the sea. These equivalences play out in the episode itself: Crawford is almost a caricature, presiding over the windy words of the various orators and declaimers in his muchvisited office. The people in the office are a close-knit and confined grouping: they seem to exist in their own little world. Certainly they show little sign of being in touch with the world of their readers. Similarly, journalism is depicted as mobile, ephemeral, and constantly changing, both in terms of personnel and of views. Bloom reflects on this changeable quality: Funny the way those newspaper men veer about when they get wind of a new opening. Weathercocks. Hot and cold in the same breath. Wouldn’t know which to believe. One story good till you hear the next. Go for one another baldheaded in the papers and then all blows over. Hail fellow well met the next moment. (121; 7:308–12)

The proliferation of wind metaphors in this passage (“get wind,” “weathercocks,” “same breath,” “all blows over”) is a good instance of how Joyce saturates his prose with a chosen motif, depending on the ethos of the episode in question. Bloom’s image of journalism coincides with the schema’s categories: fickle, incestuous, and “windy” in every sense of that

word: hot air, verbiage, empty rhetoric, selfinflated importance. All aspects of what goes on in the editor’s office can be read under this rubric – the speechifying, the obvious valuing of fine phrases for their own sakes, irrespective of what they’re saying, and the extolling of a glorious past, as demonstrated by the exploits of the fighting Irish abroad, while ignoring a distinctly inglorious present. Accordingly, an essentially negative view can be taken of the world depicted here, with some support for this reading from the schema’s categories. That is indeed the position taken in some of the most influential early critiques, such as Hugh Kenner’s Dublin’s Joyce. However, greater insight into what is at stake in this episode can be gained by homing in on the role of rhetoric in the episode. For the men gathered in the Telegraph office, rhetoric is a fetish, something which preoccupies and even obsesses them beyond its intrinsic qualities. Rhetoric is a very appropriate fetish, because it is in itself empty and value-free. It exists independently of any particular content it may convey; it is a purely formal skill. It is, famously, the art of persuasion, and the more dubious the proposition of which it persuades us, the more successful it is. And fetishes are indeed objects which have no content in themselves but which become a focus and resource as a means of disavowing an intolerable reality. For these men, rhetoric does that. As I will discuss, Stephen’s Parable of the Plums at the end of the episode can be seen as an ironic commentary on the overblown delusions of the men’s exchanges, undoing their fetishistic disavowal and giving a glimpse of the Dublin reality beneath it. Persuasive though they are, the categories of the schemas have nothing to say about the rich depiction of the world of work in “Aeolus.” The account of the Freeman printing operation is detailed, thorough, and precise. The production method remained the same for about a century, and would be quite familiar to anyone who, like me, worked in newspapers before the advent of digital technology in the late 1980s. The episode emphasizes the sheer noise of the newspaper production process: the Linotype machines and the printing presses

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“clanked,” as the text puts it (115; 7:101), with a great din. Joyce, who had visited the Freeman offices ­several times in 1909, would no doubt have been very struck by this, given his sensitive hearing. Bloom observes and reflects on all this with characteristic perceptiveness and mordant wit. He is both very much part of this world yet also at a certain angle to it, as he is throughout the book. In this episode, although he is subject to a certain slight mockery, there is no overt hostility. This is his home turf, after all, and it may indicate a certain tolerance within this somewhat enclosed world – once you’re in, you’re in – that it can accommodate even something of a maverick like Bloom, better, certainly, than Joe Cuffe’s cattle-dealing enterprise, as we learn later. Indeed, one of the striking aspects of this episode, one that was overlooked in the earlier commentaries, is the degree of camaraderie among the participants. They share a social and linguistic world, and indeed a historical situation, which engenders a degree of communality among them. They understand each other, and it makes for a certain warmth. Their reaction to Stephen Dedalus is instructive in this connection: he is very much respected, his talents are acknowledged, even if not everything he says is understood, and he is in no sense regarded as alien. It is probably true that his popularity is greatly enhanced when it turns out he has enough money to buy drinks for the participants, but their respect and friendliness are evident even before they become aware of that. Len Platt is, I believe, right when he suggests that Stephen feels more at home among these men than he does later among the literati in the National Library.2 Much about this all-male gathering requires adjustment from contemporary readers. Crawford, especially, raises difficult issues. For one thing, his behavior seems bizarre in the extreme, matching his appearance. Crawford is of course Aeolus, the keeper of the winds, and if anyone can claim to be the central fi ­ gure of 2  Len Platt, “Pisgah Sights: The National Press and the Catholic Middle Class in ‘Aeolus,’” James Joyce Quarterly 35:4/36:1 (1998), 730–45. Platt’s essay is a good example of the postcolonialist approach to this episode that I discuss.

the episode, it is he, much more than Bloom or Stephen. Many of the most crucial issues it raises have their locus in him. His entrance is appropriately dramatic: “The inner door was opened violently and a scarlet beaked face, crested by a comb of feathery hair, thrust itself in. The bold blue eyes stared about them” (122; 7:344–46). “[B]eaked” and “comb” makes him sound like a turkeycock rather than a human being. Some of the other characters ­suspect that he is an alcoholic, remarking variously “Incipient jigs. Sad case” (122; 7:367) and “He’s pretty well on” (125; 7:461). But as J. J. O’Molloy wisely remarks “Seems to be […] but it is not always as it seems” (125; 7:462–63). In fact, to anyone who has spent long enough in Irish journalism, the editor’s foibles are recognizable, if a bit extreme. He is on the spectrum of eccentric editors, even if rather far out on it. This was and is a very loose world, in terms of the behaviors tolerated in it, whatever about the attitudes espoused. The legendary eccentricities of journalists are partly a function of journalism’s unique position in relation to the mainstream of society. Journalists are of their society but not quite in it: their essential function of reporting the facts (the news) means that at least at times they can even be somewhat at odds with their society. Maybe the inherent tension between the sense of a higher calling that one is failing to live up to (instead serving ideologies and warped politics) induces a feeling of inner turmoil, indeed revulsion, that might well lead to the seeking of solace in drink. This may be another factor in the sense of deadlock that characterizes the world of this episode. In fact, the level of alcoholism in the profession can be exaggerated (in thirty-eight years in Dublin journalism, I encountered very little, though it is also true that there was an unusual level of tolerance for it): on balance, it seems unlikely that Crawford is actually an alcoholic: eccentricity and alcoholism are very different things. One particular point in the course of Crawford’s rambling and scattered disquisitions needs special commentary. This is his exposition of the “genius” of Ignatius Gallaher in conveying the news of the Invincibles assassinations in the Phoenix Park to the New York World (131; 7:651). As the editor explains,

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Gallaher did so by overlaying the assassins’ route on an ad which was in the possession of both the Dublin office and the New York paper, giving them a point-by-point correspondence with the Dublin events. The trick, while clever, hardly seems to merit all the editor’s encomiums, but its relevance for us, as readers of Ulysses, is that it provides a paradigm for the book we are reading: is not Ulysses itself an overlaying of one story on another? In the editor’s case, something historic is mapped on to something banal (the newspaper ad); in the case of Ulysses, something ostensibly banal (the story of Bloom and Stephen and Molly) is mapped on to a major artefact of Western culture (the Odyssey) but the principle is similar. So Joyce’s stress on the formal, as distinct from the material, patterns that bring together the unlikely bedfellows of Ulysses and the Odyssey opens up a new way of discovering and exploring relationships across time and space. Ulysses draws on these Homeric patterns to give expression to its time. The rise of postcolonial studies in recent decades has brought about a critical revolution in interpretations of the novel, as scholars began to explore the presence of history in works, such as Ulysses, which were once seen to exist statically as modernist monuments occupying a space and time of their own. As a result of this fundamental shift, the episodes where history is most strongly in question – “Nestor,” “Aeolus,” “Cyclops” (above all), “Circe,” and “Eumaeus” – have been the focus of heightened attention and fundamental revaluation. Accordingly, although critics previously dismissed the men’s talk as windbaggery just one step up from the discourse of the citizen in Barney Kiernan’s in the “Cyclops” episode, their exchanges engage with their political context.3 Crawford communicates this powerfully when he says: “You and I are the fat in the fire. We haven’t got the chance of a snowball in hell” (126; 7:481–82). In keeping with the style of the episode this statement contains two metaphors (both “dead” ones, since they are clichés). But the content of what Crawford is saying is clear and serious. It comes in r­ esponse 3  A critical view since revised in works such as Emer Nolan’s James Joyce and Nationalism (London: Routledge, 1995).

to a comment by J. J. O’Molloy that the word “British” “reminds one somehow of fat in the fire” (126; 7:479). Crawford’s retort speaks to the situation of Ireland at this time, which was one of being politically and economically trapped. Following the fall of Parnell, the Irish Party at Westminster was hopelessly split and incapable of advancing Irish economic, social, and nationalist aspirations. Although the first stirrings of Sinn Fein activity were emerging, the situation was very bleak; most social energies were diverted into new cultural developments such as the Literary Revival. The sense of a political and a social deadend haunts the characters in “Aeolus,” as it haunts the entire book. “Haunts” is indeed the right term, since the specter of Parnell hangs over its people, so dominant a non-­presence that it paralyzes all political activity. One recourse in this plight is past glories, although these glories were, of necessity, achieved in foreign fields. The editor is particularly given to celebrating Irish valor in battle, citing exploits from Ohio to Vienna as proof. Although he is not always accurate, there is a great deal of truth in the general picture. More fundamentally, these are sustaining legends for the social imaginary in a dark time: their factual reality matters less than their accredited testimony to the courage and fighting qualities of the Irish soldier, even if he has to ply his trade in far foreign fields. What matters to these characters as exemplary Irish people and colonial subjects is to hold on to the thread of an Irish history, an Irish “story,” indeed, that is in danger of being obliterated by the loss of autonomy, the loss of language, the economic and ecological catastrophe of the Famine, and finally the apparently irresolvable contradiction of the clash between the aims of nationalism and religion exposed by the paralyzing Parnell split. The episode then explores this deadlock, and the various means and strategies of evading it. The editor’s nostalgic espousal of a putatively heroic past is one way. Certainly Irish culture of the time and subsequently was filled with such heroic legends, not only of the Irish abroad but also at home, with the necessary proviso that their efforts were always in vain; heroic failures were always preferable to pragmatic compromises.

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When not engaged in these retrospective celebrations, the men in the Telegraph office dwell on a visionary future as a means of escaping the intolerable present. It is here that the important analogy between the Irish and the Jews comes in; it is at the core of John F. Taylor’s speech about Moses and the Egyptian high priest, which is in many ways the core of the episode (136–37; 7:828–69). The speech and its context set up an opposition that pervades the men’s discussion: on the one side, the British, Roman, and (putative) Egyptian empires; on the other, the Irish and Jewish peoples, neither of which, at the time, had a country they could call their own. The Greeks sit somewhat uneasily in the middle, possessors, apparently, of an “empire of the spirit” (128–29; 7:567) that transcends the others. Taylor’s speech is the reverse of anti-Semitic; its implicit comparison suggests that the Irish, and their language, can have a glory like that of the Mosaic Jews if they too liberate themselves from the house of bondage. This is a visionary, cultural glory, not the glory of empire and of conquest. Essentially, Taylor is trying to construct a sustaining myth, a viable fiction, that will underpin Irish movements for cultural and political autonomy. His speech overlooks the fact that the Jewish and Irish common possession of minority languages is no guarantee that the Irish will realize an equally glorious destiny, yet this and other flaws of reasoning are buried beneath the sheer rhetorical power of his presentation. In 1901, the Irish barrister and journalist John F. Taylor did make a speech containing this Irish–Jewish analogy, which MacHugh attempts to recite from memory. Taylor made a definite intervention in Ireland’s situation, outlining a vision for the country’s destiny that was meant to effect real change at a precise historical moment. His speech is the only part of Ulysses that Joyce chose to record when he visited the Paris branch of the Gramophone Company with Sylvia Beach. He chose this speech because of its rhetorical

power, ­especially when delivered aloud. That Joyce seriously intended the analogy in Ulysses between the Irish and the Jews is clear from his letter to Carlo Linati, in which he specifically mentions this relationship in his account of the work (SL 271). “Aeolus” concludes with Stephen’s “Parable of the Plums” (139–42; 7:923–1027), which shifts away from the retrospecting and prospecting that precede it. Its mode, so very detailed, so very specific, so wedded to narrative, could not be more different from the previous grandiloquence and passion. Importantly, however, the one does not invalidate the other: they have different motivations and they serve different ends. Stephen’s interest is in the material, in the concrete. (“Hold to the now, the here” (178; 9:89), he famously thinks later.) He is not exercised by prospects of national deliverance and glorious destinies. His “vision” is rooted in the concrete and the cityscape, not on “Sinai’s mountaintop” (137; 7:867). Perhaps because of this, it seems to fall flat with his listeners: Stephen’s oblique approach to the issues already raised in the episode is greeted by incomprehension, not even rejection. Only Professor McHugh offers a comment, mildly accusing Stephen of bitterness – he has at least followed what Stephen is saying. In “Aeolus” we come to realize that the “subject” of Ulysses is broader than just the experiences of Stephen and Bloom. Dublin is itself a character, perhaps the most important one, and its voices and textures are conveyed with rhetorical force throughout this episode. Its stress on rhetoric is part of a linguistic turn in Ulysses, an increasing focus on style as a form of liberation. It could be said that the famed Irish “gift of the gab” is the resource of a people who had very little else to hold on to throughout their history. Ulysses, on one of its many levels, celebrates that endowment, much more than it mocks or disparages it. The centrality of this linguistic richness both in the world of Dublin and in Ulysses itself comes sharply to the fore here.

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for Sandymount, Green Rathmines, Ringsend, and read Sandymount Green, Rathmines, Ringsend and

for lettecards read lettercards G 7:20

Nelson’s pillar: the column bearing a statue of Admiral Nelson formed the terminal and departure point for the majority of Dublin’s electric trams; see 92. shunted: to move (a train or some portion of it) from the main line to a side track. Blackrock, Kingston and Dalkey […] Harold’s Cross […] Rathgar and Terenure […] Palmerston Park: tramlines named after their destinations. Dublin United Tramway

Company’s: three companies shared offices and united under a common board of directors and manager: Dublin United Tramways Co., Ltd, The Dublin United Tramways Co., and Dublin Southern District Tramways Co. E. R.: initials for “Edward Rex,” Edward VII of England (1841–1910; r.1901–10). draymen: operators of low carts without sides used by brewers. Prince’s stores: warehouse at 13 Prince’s Street North.

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G 7:40

G 7:60

the Telegraph office: the Evening Telegraph, owned by Freeman’s Journal, Ltd, which also owned the Freeman’s Journal, the Weekly Freeman and National Press, Sporting News, and Sport, 83 Middle Abbey Street. Ruttledge’s office: business manager of Freeman’s Journal, Ltd. Scissors and paste: journalistic phrase, editing; newspaper run by Arthur

Griffith from 1914–15. a par: “paragraph.” Martha: Martha, oder der Markt zu Richmond (Martha, or the Richmond Fair), light opera (1847) in five acts by the German composer Friedrich von Flotow (1812–83). doublet: close-fitting men’s garment, with or without sleeves. Co-ome thou lost […] dear one: from Lionel’s Lament (Act iv) in Martha.

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G 7:80

CROZIER: hooked staff carried by a bishop as a symbol of office. His grace phoned down twice this morning: the Most Reverend William J. Walsh (1841–1921), archbishop of Dublin, feuded with Thomas Sexton, publisher of the Freeman’s Journal and the Evening Telegraph. Nannetti’s: Joseph Patrick Nannetti. BURGESS: officials exercising judicial or executive authority in a town or borough. Member for College Green: College Green, site of Ireland’s Parliament until 1800; Nannetti was MP for College

Green (1900–6). tack: approach or tactic. the official gazette: the Dublin Gazette, official publication of His Majesty’s Stationery Office, published on Tuesday and Friday each week. Queen Anne is dead: Queen Anne (1665–1714, r.1702–14); catchphrase for news reported long after becoming common knowledge. Demesne situate […] barony of Tinnahinch: demesne, legal term for “an estate held by its owner”; situate, “legal language for situated”; townland, “a division of land”; barony, “a division of a county.”

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G 7:100

G 7:120

jennets: in Ireland, the offspring of a male horse and a female donkey. Ballina: northwestern town and seaport. Nature notes: page in the Weekly Freeman devoted to nature and farming. Cartoons: political, satiric verse in the Weekly Freeman. Phil Blake’s weekly Pat and Bull story: named after Pat and Mike, Irish-American comic figures, and cock and bull. Uncle Toby’s page for tiny tots: feature with puzzles, games, and essay competitions for children. M. A. P.: Mainly About People, weekly newspaper. Double marriage of sisters […] Cuprani too,

printer: Menotti Vincent Caprani (c.1869–1932) of the Freeman’s Journal and his brother married two O’Connor sisters in a double wedding. More Irish than the Irish: from the Latin phrase, Hibernicis ipsis Hibernior; see Joyce’s essay “Ireland: Island of Saints and Sages.” threefour time: musical time signature for waltzes. monkeydoodle: “foolish, meddling, mischievous.” Soon be calling him my lord mayor: Nannetti became lord mayor of Dublin in 1906. bob: shilling. Meagher’s: public house at 4 Earl Street North.

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G 7:140

G 7:160

HOUSE OF KEY(E)S: lower house of the Parliament of the Isle of Man. Two crossed keys: emblem of the House of Keys; also, symbol of the papacy. Manx parliament: parliament of the Isle of Man, the House of Keys. that voglio: see 61.

Kilkenny: county and cathedral town seventyfour miles south-southwest of Dublin. galleypage: printer’s preliminary proof of typeset text for checking before it was laid out into the final page design.

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G 7:180

gauging au the symmetry with a y of a peeled pear (G, inclusion). topper: tall hat. phiz: physiognomy. flyboard: board where a printing press deposits printed sheets. quirefolded: four sheets folded into eight pages. the archbishop’s letter: such a letter

did not appear in the Freeman’s Journal. Monks: basis in 1904 Dublin unknown. castingbox: box used for taking casts for stereotyping. August […] horseshow month. Ballsbridge: the Royal Dublin Society horse show, held in the Agricultural Premises in Ballsbridge.

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G 7:200

G 7:220

DAYFATHER: shop steward or foreman in a printing office. found drowned: recalls the drowned man in “Proteus.” working the machine in the parlour: working at a sewing machine. mangiD. kcirtaP: Patrick Dignam. hagadah book: Haggadah, Hebrew, a Passover story; the Haggadah contains the text of the service for Passover, the Seder; many of the following phrases feature in the Seder. Pessach: Hebrew, Passover. Next year in Jerusalem: phrase in the Seder on Passover eve, expressing the desire to return to the Holy Land.

that brought us […] house of bondage: from Exodus 20:2. Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu: Hebrew, “Hear, oh Israel, the Lord (is) our God.” the other: the “Shema,” not part of the Seder. Then the twelve brothers, Jacob’s sons: Jacob’s twelve sons (Genesis 35:22–27), the fathers of the twelve tribes of Israel. And then the lamb […] kills the cat: reference to the chant Chad Gadya, “One Kid,” from the Seder. Thorn’s: Alexander Thorn & Co., Ltd, printers and publishers, 87–89 Middle Abbey Street.

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G 7:240

G 7:260

ERIN, GREEN GEM OF THE SILVER SEA: Ireland, “the emerald gem of the western world,” from Thomas Moore’s song “Let Erin Remember the Days of Old”; from “Cuisle Mo Chroidhe,” by John Philpot Curran. the ghost walks: theatrical, journalistic slang for “salaries are being paid.” purling rill: gurgling stream. And Xenophon looked […] on the sea: from Lord Byron’s Don Juan (1821); Marathon, scene of a battle in 490

bce; Xenophon served as chief historian. Bladderbags: inflated, pretentious person. Old Chatterton: Hedges Eyre Chatterton (1819–1910), queen’s counsel, solicitor general, and attorney general. Subleader: short editorial underneath the main editorial (leader). Johnny, make room for your uncle: nineteenth-century common saying; popular 1880s song. gale days: days on which rent or installment payments are due.

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G 7:280

G 7:300

fragment of Cicero’s: Marcus Tullius Cicero (106–43 bce), Roman orator and statesman. finis: Latin, “the end.”

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G 7:320

the pink pages: last edition of the Evening Telegraph, printed on light pink paper. Debts of honour: legally unenforceable debts, often gambling debts. Reaping the whirlwind: from Hosea 8:7. D. and T. Fitzgerald: David and Thomas Fitzgerald, solicitors, 20 St Andrew’s Street. the Express: the Daily Express, Irish newspaper (1851–1921). the Independent: the Irish Daily Independent, founded by Parnell; not published until two months after his death. Go for one another baldheaded: abandoning any formality or restraint (dating from when men wore wigs). bosky: covered with

bushes or trees. DORIC: dialect spoken by natives of Doris, in Greece; also a font, modeled on early nineteenth-century sans serifs, often used for classified advertising in newspapers. The moon […] He forgot Hamlet: the speech has everything but a Shakespearean reference to moonlight. shite and onions!: favored expression of Joyce’s father, John Joyce, after the expression “tripe and onions.” welshcombed: using the thumb and four fingers. Doughy Daw: moniker of Dan Dawson for his ownership of the Dublin Bread Company.

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G 7:340

G 7:360

the motor: automobile, car. the sham squire: after Francis Higgins (c.1745–1802), a Dublin clerk who was imprisoned for duping Mary Anne Archer into marriage by passing as gentry; later owner of the Freeman’s Journal and informant for Dublin Castle, notably regarding Lord Edward Fitzgerald’s whereabouts in 1798. Getououthat: Getonouthat (G, correction). North Cork militia !: outfit loyal

to the English Crown in the Rebellion of 1798; there were no Spanish officers among its ranks. Ohio!: failed invasion by British troops of the Ohio Valley, in North America, in June 1755; the British regiments had recruited soldiers from Cork militias. incipient jigs: delirium tremens. cretic: metrical foot composed of one short syllable between two long syllables.

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G 7:380

G 7:400

HARP EOLIAN: stringed instrument played by the wind; Aeolus, the wind-god; the harp is a national symbol for Ireland. leader: editorial. Canada swindle case: James Wought (a.k.a. Saphiro and Sparks) sold fake tickets to Canada; was tried and convicted. Sport’s

tissues: weekly penny paper published by the Freeman’s Journal, Ltd; tissue, horse-racing, sheet of paper showing the “form” of horses competing in a race. hurricane blowing: after the Odyssey, when Odysseus’s men open the bag in which Aeolus has trapped the winds.

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Pat Farrell: basis in 1904 Dublin unknown. auction rooms: Joe Dillon, auctioneer, 25 Bachelors Walk. Pardon, monsieur: French, “Excuse me, sir.” anno Domini: Latin, “in the year of our Lord.” We are the boys […] heart and hand: from the Irish ballad “The

Boys of Wexford” by R. Dwyer Joyce, in which the rebels celebrate their victory over the North Cork Militia in the 1798 Rebellion, lament their loss at Vinegar Hill, and declare their readiness to fight again.

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G 7:440

G 7:460

The world is before you: from Milton’s Paradise Lost (12.646–47). crossblind: window shade. CORTÈGE: train of attendants. guttersnipe: street urchin. spaugs: Hiberno-English, big, clumsy feet. Small nines: up to all the tricks (Gifford); Joyce lists Bloom’s shoe size as “small nines” (jjon). Steal upon larks: nimble enough to sneak up on a sharp-eared lark. mazurka: lively country dance in triple time for

couples. the Oval: public house at 78 Middle Abbey Street; near the offices of the Freeman’s Journal. Paddy Hooper: Patrick Hooper (1873–1931), reporter for the Freeman’s Journal, and its editor when it closed in 1924; son of John Hooper; see 109. Jack Hall: Jack B. Hall (1851–1931), Dublin journalist. pretty well on: half-drunk. CALUMET: Native American peace pipe.

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G 7:480

change comma to fullstop after said

G 7:500

’Twas rank and […] charmed thy heart: from The Rose of Castile (1857), an opera by Michael William Balfe. Imperium romanum: Latin, “the Roman Empire.” Brixton: London suburb. THE GRANDEUR THAT WAS ROME: from “To Helen” (1831, 1845), by Edgar Allan Poe (1809–49). Cloacae: Latin, “sewers.” It is meet […] altar to Jehovah: from Matthew 17:4; meet, suitable. (on our shore he never set it): the Romans traded with Ireland and did not invade it. cloacal

obsession: from H. G. Wells’s unflattering review of Joyce’s Portrait. first chapter of Guinness’s: common Dublin pun on Genesis. nature’s gentlemen: after a poem by Eliza Cook (1818–89). Roman law: mix of common law and legislation; fundamental to modern civil law. Pontius Pilate is its prophet: Pontius Pilate, Roman prefect of Judea, 26–36 ce; from the Islamic profession of faith: “There is no god but God (Allah); and Mohammed is his Prophet.”

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for M. O’Madden read Mr O’Madden

G 7:520

chief baron Palles: Christopher Palles (1831–1920), Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer, chief judge in the court of Exchequer, a division of the High Court of Justice in Ireland. the royal university: now University College Dublin, founded 1879. Donegal tweed: the northwest county of Donegal is the center of Irish tweed production. Entrez, mes enfants!:

French, “Enter, my children!” suppliant: petitioner. governor: (slang) father. excogitate: develop in thought. pelters: tramp or paltry person. On swift sail […] to my mouth: Stephen’s version of Douglas Hyde’s “My Grief on the Sea.” tartar: rough, violent person, after the collective term for the peoples who fought under Genghis Khan.

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G 7:560

the Star and Garter: hotel, 16 D’Olier Street. a grass one: grass widower, man separated from his wife. Habsburg: imperial royal house of Austria-Hungary. An Irishman saved […] Tirconnell in Ireland: Austrian-born Maximilian Karl Lamoral Graf von Tirconnell, aide-de-camp to Emperor Francis Joseph (1830–1916, r.1848–1916), rescued him from a knifeattack in 1853. Sent his heir […] fieldmarshal now: in 1904, the Emperor’s heir, Archduke Francis Ferdinand, appointed Edward VII field marshal of the Austrian Army; in 1903, Edward had appointed Emperor Francis Joseph field marshal of the British Army. Wild

geese: Irish expatriate; see 41. A Hungarian it was: Lebenyi, a tailor, attacked Emperor Francis Joseph with a knife. Dominus!: Domine! (G, correction). Lord Salisbury: Robert Arthur Talbot Gascoyne-Cecil, third marquess of Salisbury (1830–1903), prime minister of England (1885–86, 1886–92, and 1895–1902). KYRIE ELEISON: Greek, “Lord have mercy.” Kyrios!: Greek, “a lord or guardian.” vowels the Semite and the Saxon know not: the Greek vowel upsilon has no equivalent in English or Hebrew. the catholic chivalry of Europe that foundered at Trafalgar: the combined French and Spanish fleets defeated by Nelson.

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G 7:600

imperium: Latin, “command, supremacy, empire.” that went under […] fleets at Ægospotami: crucial 405 bce battle of the Peloponnesian War in which the Athenian fleet was lost to the Spartans. Pyrrhus, misled by […] fortunes of Greece: deceived by a false oracle, Pyrrhus waged and lost a war against the Romans. They went forth […] they always fell: poem by Yeats, and epigraph to Matthew Arnold’s Study of Celtic Literature (1867). matinée: French, “morning.” the Joe Miller: (slang) the joke, after comedian Joseph Miller (1684–1738). In mourning for Sallust: Gaius

Sallustius Crispus (86–34 bce), Roman historian and supporter of Caesar. wheeze: gag, joke. communards: members of the revolutionary socialist Commune that controlled Paris from March to May 1871. blown up the Bastille: the storming of the Bastille Saint-Antoine prison on July 14, 1789 marked the beginning of the French Revolution. Or was it you […] of Finland: Nikolai lvanovitch Bobrikolf (1857–1904), Russian Governor General of Finland, was shot dead by Eugene Schaumann, Finnish aristocrat on the morning of June 16, 1904.

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for coldin read cold in

G 7:620

OMNIUM GATHERUM: dog-Latin, “gathering of all.” The turf: horse-racing. In the lexicon of youth: from the play Richelieu (1838) by Edward BulwerLytton. See it in your face […] idle little schemer: in A Portrait, Father Dolan, prefect of studies at Clongowes, punishes Stephen for his broken glasses, believing he broke them on purpose (P 41). Great nationalist meeting in Borris-in-Ossory: town southwest of Dublin, site of an 1843 “monster meeting” for Daniel O’Connell’s campaign for Repeal of the

Act of Union. Bulldosing: bullying or intimidating. Jakes McCarthy: Jacques McCarthy, journalist on the Freeman’s Journal; jakes, “an outdoor toilet.” pabulum: food, bland intellectual fare. on the shaughraun: Hiberno-English, out of employment and wandering idly about. billiardmarking: keeping account of the points made by players in billiards games. the Clarence: Clarence Commercial Hotel, 6–7 Wellington Quay. That was in eighty-one […] the Phoenix park: the murders took place in 1882, not 1881.

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G 7:660

New York World: daily newspaper that covered the Phoenix Park murders. Butt bridge: easternmost bridge over the Liffey in 1904. Holehan: Holohan (G, correction). Bransome’s coffee: Branson’s Coffee Extract, instant coffee syrup, distributed by Branson & Co., Ltd, of London. A DISTANT VOICE: translation of Greek-derived neologism “telephone.” parkgate: southeast gate of Phoenix Park. viceregal lodge: residence of the Viceroy, or Lord Lieutenant

of Ireland; now the house of the Irish President. Knockmaroon gate: gate at the westernmost part of Phoenix Park. dicky: detachable shirt front. Inchicore, Roundtown, Windy Arbour, Palmerston Park, Ranelagh: route taken by the getaway car of the murderers, rather than the decoy car driven by Skin-the-goat. Davy’s public house: J. and T. Davy’s pub, 110a–111 Upper Leeson Street; the Invincibles stopped here for a drink.

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G 7:680

for Thee read There

G 7:700

Burke’s public house: Crawford means Davy’s public house. Nightmare from which you will never awake: Stephen’s thought; see 34. Dick Adams: Richard Adams (1846–1908), journalist for the Cork Examiner and the Freeman’s Journal. the Lord ever put the breath of life in: from Genesis 2:7. Madam […] Elba: palindromes. Old Woman of Prince’s street: nickname for the Freeman’s Journal. weeping and gnashing of teeth: Matthew 8:12. Gregor Grey: artist, 1 Sherrard Street Lower. Tay Pay: nickname of Thomas Power O’Connor (1848–1929), Irish journalist, politician, and founder of the Star in 1888.

Blumenfeld: Ralph D. Blumenfeld (1864–1948), American-born journalist, editor of the London Daily Mail and Daily Express. Pyatt: Felix Pyat (1810–89), French journalist and revolutionary, involved in the Paris Commune in 1871. some hawkers were up before the recorder: brought to court for selling postcards of the Invincibles and the Phoenix Park murders. that cyclone last year: severe storm on February 26–27, 1903 that damaged trees in Phoenix Park. Number One: Patrick Joseph Percy Tynan, alleged leader of the Invincibles. in the hook and eye department: inconsequential.

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Whiteside: James Whiteside (1804–76), Lord Chief Justice, defended Daniel O’Connell in 1844. silvertongued O’Hagan: Thomas O’Hagan (1812–85), politician, lawyer, first Catholic Lord Chancellor of Ireland. in the halfpenny place: second rate. la tua pace […] si tace: Dante’s Inferno 5, “for thy peace,” “pleased to hear and speak,” “while the wind is quiet, as it is here.” per l’aer perso: Italian, “through the black air” (Inferno 5:89). quella pacifica oriafiamma: Italian, “that peaceful gold flame” (Paradiso 31:127). di rimirar fè più ardenti: Italian, “more eager in their gazing” (Paradiso 31:142). SUFFICIENT FOR THE DAY: from the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 6:34. the

third profession: law, after divinity and medicine. your Cork legs: from an Ulster ballad, “The Runaway Cork Leg.” Demosthenes: (c.383–322 bce), Greek orator. Edmund Burke: (1729–97), Irish parliamentarian, orator, and essayist. Harmsworth: Alfred C. Harmsworth, Baron Northcliffe (1865–1922), Irish publisher and editor. the farthing press: sensational journalism. his American cousin of the Bowery gutter sheet: Harmsworth’s friend, Joseph Pulitzer, with offices in Park Row, not the Bowery. Paddy Kelly’s Budget: comic weekly newspaper. Pue’s Occurrences: first daily newspaper in Dublin, founded in 1700. The Skibbereen Eagle: weekly newspaper.

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G 7:740

G 7:760 for O’Mollooy too kout read O’Molloy took out for match box read matchbox

Grattan and Flood: Grattan did not write for the Freeman’s Journal. Irish volunteers: militia formed to defend against a French invasion; pushed for Irish legislative independence in 1782. Dr Lucas: Charles Lucas (1713–71), Irish physician and politician. John Philpot Curran: (1750–1817), Irish barrister, politician, and orator; defended various political prisoners of 1798. Kendal Bushe: Charles Kendal Bushe (1767–1843), Irish jurist and orator. And in the porches of […]: Hamlet (i.v.63–64). beast with two backs: Iago’s term for sexual intercourse in Othello (i.i.117). ITALIA, MAGISTRA ARTIUM: Latin,

“Italy, Mistress of the Arts.” He spoke on the law of evidence […] Roman justice […]: Bushe contrasted Irish laws of evidence with English laws in his defense of Samuel Childs; see 96. lex talionis: Latin, “the law of retaliation.” the Moses of Michelangelo in the vatican: Michelangelo’s (1475–1564) statue of Moses (1513–16), located in San Pietro in Vincoli, not the Vatican. frozen music: architecture, in the Philosophy of Art (1803) by Frederich von Schelling, German philosopher. the human form divine: from “The Divine Experience,” in Blake’s Songs of Innocence and of Experience.

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G 7:800

afflatus: inspiration. that hermetic crowd: the Theosophists. the opal hush poets: adjectives favored by A. E. and some of his acolytes. That Blavatsky woman: Helena Petrovna Blavatsky. some yankee interviewer: Cornelius Weygandt, Professor at the University of Pennsylvania, in Irish Plays and Playwrights (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1913) refers to Joyce as an “exquisite” boy who pesters A. E. only to declare that he “abhorred the Absolute above everything else” (121). planes of consciousness: ranked spaces between the physical world and divinity, according to Theosophical

doctrine. college historical society: Trinity College Historical Society, founded in 1770. revival of the Irish tongue: movement by the Gaelic League to de-Anglicize Ireland, revive the Gaelic language, and create an Irish identity. the Trinity College estates commission: commission formed to report on the relations between Trinity College and tenants to whom it rented its lands. a sweet thing with a child’s frock: Healy was highly unpopular with Parnell’s supporters for leading a faction of the Irish Parliamentary Party against him in 1890.

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G 7:820

for senned read seemed

G 7:840

delete comma after were good

the vials of his wrath: “And I heard a great voice out of the temple saying to the seven angels, Go your ways, and pour out the vials of the wrath of God upon the earth,” Revelations 16:1. the proud man’s contumely: from Hamlet’s “To be or not to be” soliloquy (iii.i.71); contumely, “scornful rudeness.” It was then a new movement. We were weak: the Gaelic League was founded in 1893. ferial: deadly,

fatal. the youthful Moses: Moses was raised by the Pharaoh’s daughter but led the Israelites out of Egyptian bondage. loose white silk neckcloth (G, inclusion). let our crooked smokes: from Shakespeare’s Cymbeline (v.v.477). FROM THE FATHERS: from the Fathers of the Church. It was revealed […] could be corrupted: from St Augustine’s (354–430) Confessions (397), 7:12.

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galleys, trireme and quadrireme: Greek and Roman sailing vessels. babemaries: baby Moses’ mother and aunt, likened to the “two Maries” at Jesus’s cross and tomb; see 45. a local and obscure idol: Jewish monotheism was thought to originate in the belief that Mount Sinai was the dwelling place of Yahweh. Isis and Osiris: ancient Egyptian deities; Isis, goddess of nature, and her husband and brother Osiris, lord of the underworld. Horus: son of Isis and Osiris; god of light. Ammon Ra: sun-god and

king of the gods. followed the pillar of cloud by day: from Exodus 13:21. And yet he died […] promise: from Deuteronomy 34. Gone with the wind: phrase from the 1896 poem “Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae” (I am not the man I was under the sway of the good Cynara) by Ernest Dawson (1867–1900). Hosts at Mullaghmast […] the kings: Mullaghmast and Tara, the seat of the ancient kings of Ireland, where Daniel O’Connell held “monster meetings.”

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for That’s all night read That’s all right

Miles of ears of porches: humorous extension of “porches of my ears,” Hamlet (i.v.63). Akasic: Theosophical realm of infinite memory, from Sanskrit akasa, “ether, atmosphere.” love and laud him: Cymbeline (v.v.476). French compliment: empty phrase. Mooney’s: Mooney & Co., wine and spirit merchants, 1 Lower Abbey Street. Lay on, Macduff:

Macbeth’s final words before his death at Macduff’s hands (v.viii.62). Fuit llium!: Latin, “Ilium (Troy) was,” Aeneid (ii, 325). windy Troy: from Alfred Tennyson’s poem “Ulysses” (1842). Kingdoms of this world: Jesus’s reply to Pilate in John 18:36, “My kingdom is not of this world.” fellaheen: Arab term for peasants.

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G 7:920

for and in tenpence read and tenpence in

G 7:940

DEAR DIRTY DUBLIN: phrase coined by Irish poet and novelist Lady Sydney Morgan (1780–1859). Two Dublin vestals: vestal virgins, priestesses of Vesta, goddess of the hearth in ancient Rome. fustian: coarse cloth of cotton or flax. Let there be life: after Genesis 1:3, “And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.” Wise virgins: from the

parable of the ten virgins, Matthew 25: 1–13. brawn: headcheese. panloaf: small loaf of bread. at the north city […] Collins, proprietress: North City Dining Rooms, 11 Marlborough Street; Kate Collins, proprietress. Anne Kearns: possibly, Mrs Kearns, pawnbroker, 7 Great George Street. Lourdes water: healing water; see 78.

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G 7:980

a passionist father: member of the Catholic order “Barefoot Clerks of the most Holy Cross and Passion of Our Lord,” founded 1737 by St Paul of the Cross (1697–1775); passionist vows included poverty, chastity, obedience, and constant meditation on the sufferings of Christ. crubeen: from Irish, a pig’s foot. double X: in beer designations, a medium quality. aureoling:

aureole, celestial crown worn by martyrs or virgins. Antithesis: rhetoric, opposition or contrast. Irish Catholic and Dublin Penny Journal: Two weekly newspapers, published on Thursdays, by Nation Printing, 90 Middle Abbey Street. Kilkenny People: weekly newspaper published on Saturdays. K. M. A.: Crawford’s curse, “kiss my arse.”

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G 7:1000

squalls: disturbances or strong gusts of wind. cadge: to beg for money. blarney: flattering or cajoling talk. K. M. R. I. A.: “kiss my royal Irish arse”; M.R.I.A., “Member of the Royal Irish Academy.” RAISING THE WIND: to raise money. Nulla bona: Latin, “no goods, possessions.” through the hoop: in financial difficulties. back a bill: Countersign a warrant; endorse a bill, cheque. Out for the waxies’ Dargle: traditional

Irish song and expression for a poor man’s holiday, as the waxies, or cobblers, went to Irishtown rather than to the Dargle river in County Wicklow. Rathmines blue dome: of the Church of Mary Immaculate Refuge of Sinners, on Rathmines Road. Adam and Eve’s: Church of St Francis of Assisi, off Merchant’s Quay. saint Laurence O’Toole’s: Catholic church in Seville Place; St Laurence O’Toole (1132–80), Dublin’s patron saint.

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G 7:1020

G 7:1040

for Kingstown read Blackrock

We’re the archdiocese here: mind your language. onehandled adulterer: Admiral Horatio Nelson, who lost his right arm in the Battle of Cape St Vincent (1797), referring to his love affair with Emma, Lady Hamilton, while both were married. DAMES DONATE DUBLIN’S CITS SPEEDPILLS VELOCITOUS AEROLITHS, BELIEF: the women’s casting of the

plum pits evokes the parable of the sower, Matthew 13:3–9; cit, “citizen”; aerolith, “meteor.” Antisthenes: (c.440–370 bce), Greek philosopher, disciple of the Sophists, ethicist, and early Cynic; argued that Penelope’s greater virtue made her more beautiful than Helen. Gorgias: (fl. c.427–c.399 bce), Greek Sophist and rhetorician. CENTRAL: telephone exchange.

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G 7:1060

becalmed in short circuit: the Dublin United Tramways Company was underserved by two coalpowered plants. broughams: one-horse closed carriage. deus nobis haec otia fecit: Latin, “it is a god who wrought for us this rest,” from Virgil’s Eclogues (i, 6). A Pisgah Sight of Palestine: Pisgah was the mountain from which Moses saw the promised land; also, Thomas Fuller’s 1650 book A Pisgah-Sight of Palestine and the Confines Thereof with the History

of the Old and New Testament Acted Thereon. The Parable of the Plums: after Jesus’s use of parables for instruction. HORATIO IS CYNOSURE: Admiral Horatio Nelson; cynosure, “center of interest.” sir John Gray’s: his statue is in the middle of Sackville (O’Connell) Street. WIMBLES […] WANGLES: wimbles, “to act giddy, confused” (Gifford); wangle, “to go unsteadily.” he said smiling grimly (G, inclusion).

8 · “LESTRYGONIANS” Matthew Hayward

After the interjections and miscommunications of “Aeolus,” the eighth episode of Ulysses appears refreshingly unified. The subheads of the previous chapter had announced a new kind of narrative: mocking, evasive, and evidently distinct from the consciousness of either of Joyce’s protagonists. In “Lestrygonians,” however, we remain reassuringly close to Bloom, as he wanders around central Dublin, looking for lunch. There is little in the way of action. Bloom ambles down Sackville Street (now O’Connell Street, still the city’s main thoroughfare), and crosses the Liffey into the south side of the

12 College Green, with the Bank of Ireland and Trinity College Dublin

city. He stops to feed some birds, observes some men advertising a local business, meets his wife’s friend, passes some Dublin notables, window-shops in Grafton Street, and goes to the Burton restaurant to eat. Put off by the dining habits of the “[m]en, men, men” inside (161; 8:653), he continues instead to Davy Byrne’s pub for a cheese sandwich and a glass of wine. At the chapter’s end, as he approaches the National Library to copy a design for the Keyes advertisement described in “Aeolus,” the sight of a strolling Blazes Boylan brings him close to panic.

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13 Sackville Street (now O’Connell Street)

The most striking element of the episode is not the plot, but the glut of food imagery, metaphors, and idioms that distinguish “Lestrygonians” from other early chapters. These can be quite simple: Bloom thinks of the police marching “[g]oosestep” when he sees them “[l]et out to graze” (154–55; 8:407, 410). Or they can be more involved: the nationalist politician Charles Stewart Parnell let his supporters “go to pot” (157; 8:511); his brother, appearing in this ­episode with a “[h]aunting face,” looks as though he had “[e]aten a bad egg,” hence Bloom’s quip, “[p]oached eyes on ghost” (157; 8:502, 508). There are literally hundreds of similar examples, and while many have been noted and tabulated,1 part of the pleasure for “Lestrygonians” readers comes in finding these out for themselves. But it is worth reflecting on the function this language serves.

Joyce apparently gave a physiological explanation for this profusion, telling his friend Frank Budgen that Bloom’s thoughts have an “underthought of food” because he is “walking towards his lunch.”2 However, the alimentary obsession is by no means restricted to Bloom’s interior monologue. Third-person narrative descriptions also use food and related imagery – the river’s “treacly swells” (146; 8:89), “the baking causeway” (160; 8:616), the blind stripling’s “herringbone tweed” (173; 8:1106–7), the statue’s “cream curves of stone” (175; 8:1180) – and Joyce has other characters ladle on the food expressions too. Mrs Breen’s children are not just well but “[a]ll on the baker’s list” (149; 8:211). Nosey Flynn notes Boylan’s “slice of luck” backing a “little kipper” of a boxer (165; 8:800–2), and appraises Molly’s figure to Davy Byrne – “[p]lovers on toast” – asserting

1  See e.g. C. H. Peake, James Joyce, the Citizen, and the Artist (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1977), 200–1.

2  Frank Budgen, James Joyce and the Making of “Ulysses,” and Other Writings (1934; London: Oxford University Press, 1972), 21.

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8 Sackville Street (O’Connell Street) to Kildare Street

“Lestrygonians” · 237

that Bloom “doesn’t buy cream on the ads he picks up. You can make bacon of that” (169; 8:952–56). Paddy Leonard continues in the same vein when he enters the pub: “Lord love a duck […] Tell us if you’re worth your salt” (170; 8:1006–18). Since Bloom is altogether absent for most of these exchanges, having disappeared from the Davy Byrne’s mise en scène when he visits the toilet, the rather literal, character-based justification for this gastronomic excess, as reported by Budgen, must evidently be taken with a pinch of Leonard’s salt. In fact, Joyce’s extended use of food imagery binds the chapter’s various elements – plot, theme, setting, characterization, and Homeric correspondence – which all, in some way, center on food. The Homeric scene to which the “Lestrygonians” title alludes comes from Book 10 of the Odyssey. Arriving in Lestrygonia, Odysseus cannily moors his ship outside the harbor before sending ahead to discover “what manner of men they were who here live upon the earth by bread.”3 This epithet for humans is ironically inappropriate, as no sooner has King Antiphates invited Odysseus’s men into his hall, than he snatches one up for his midday meal: the Lestrygonians turn out to be giants with a taste for human flesh. Rushing out to the harbor, they hurl rocks at Odysseus’s fleet, “and like folk spearing fishes they bare home their hideous meal.” Odysseus flees with his small surviving company, “stricken at heart.”4 The escape is echoed by Bloom’s breathless dodging of Boylan – “My heart […] Safe!” (175; 8:1190–93) – and the carnage in Antiphates’ hall by Bloom’s experience in the Burton. Here he enters, “heart astir” (161; 8:650), and halts at the smells of meat and men. He watches the diners with mounting disgust, put off by the bad table manners, the meat-heavy fare, and the fermented scent of spit, beer, piss, and cigarette smoke (161; 8:650–51). Placing Bloom at the edge of this gluttonous display, Joyce helps us to share his protagonist’s revulsion,

3  S. H. Butcher and A. Lang, The Odyssey of Homer Done into English Prose (1890; New York: Macmillan, 1906), 156. 4  Ibid., 157.

with grisly descriptions of the food, and bestial imagery portraying the eaters in all their crude corporality, gorging in spasms on gristle and bone. “Out,” thinks Bloom, at last: “I hate dirty eaters” (162; 8:696). While the excess of language brings this scene close to the grotesque, it is not immediately clear that there is a satirical target. Some have read it as evidence of Bloom’s latent vegetarianism.5 Leaving the Burton, he reflects upon the brutality of the meat industry in which, as clerk for Cuffe the cattle trader (633; 17:484–485), he was once employed; he also thinks in more sympathetic terms of the contemporary vegetarian movement he had dismissed earlier in the episode. Yet such scruples are uncharacteristic of Bloom, despite his compassion for animals here and elsewhere in the novel. His relish for the “inner organs of beasts and fowls” (53; 4:1–2) is the first thing we learn about him in “Calypso,” and he is looking forward to liver and bacon for lunch before he enters the Burton. That he opts instead for a vegetarian meal in Davy Byrne’s could be taken for a conversion, were he not so soon back to his old ways, savoring the liver and bacon in the Ormond Hotel in “Sirens” (258; 11:499), and dashing back into the butcher’s in “Circe” to buy such midnight snacks as a “lukewarm pig’s crubeen” and a “cold sheep’s trotter” (413; 15:158–59). So what explains his change of heart in “Lestrygonians,” beyond the dictates of the Homeric parallel? In the schema Joyce sent to Carlo Linati in 1920, he gave “dejection” as the “[s]ense” or “[m]eaning” of this chapter,6 and across the episode Bloom is increasingly depressed by his own situation, and, more generally, by a vision of human existence as mere process: “we stuffing food in one hole and out behind” (168; 8:929). This despondence colors all that he perceives and ponders, and it is here, in the fluctuations of Bloom’s state of mind, that the uneventful episode gains its dramatic strength. At his nadir, the goings on of local life, civic and

5  E.g. Marguerite M. Regan, “‘Wegebobbles and Fruit’: Bloom’s Vegetarian Impulses,” Texas Studies in Literature and Language 51:4 (2009), 463–75. 6  Richard Ellmann, appendix, Ulysses on the Liffey (1972; London: Faber, 1974), n.p.

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personal, seem to Bloom insignificant against this pointless cycle of consumption and excretion. Dignam’s death (“carted off”; 156; 8:479), Mina Purefoy’s labor (“groaning to have a child tugged out of her”; 156; 8:480), Molly’s appointment with Boylan (“[u]seless to go back”; 160; 8:633), political activism (“[u]seless words”; 156; 8:477), the pursuit of knowledge (“[n]ever know anything about it. Waste of time”; 159; 8:581): all appear part of a fruitless procession that ends in defeat. “No one is anything” (157; 8:493). Bloom’s pessimistic vision gains its particular shade by his experience of a contemporary political reality, as an Irishman in the age of British rule, stricken at heart like Odysseus. An oppressive police presence looms physically and mentally in this episode, and Joyce’s designation of constables as the “symbol” of the chapter makes sense7: they too appear as avatars of Homer’s voracious monsters, with their “[f]oodheated faces, sweating helmets, patting their truncheons” (154; 8:407–8). Recalling the time he was chased by mounted police for joining a protest against the British Colonial Secretary Joseph Chamberlain, and contemplating the city’s many informants and agents provocateurs “drawing secret service pay from the castle” (155; 8:444), Bloom is situated as a colonized subject under empire, which compounds his feeling of powerlessness in “Lestrygonians”: “Things go on same; day after day: squads of police marching out, back” (156; 8:477–78). Where Bloom is elsewhere equivocal in his attitude towards Britain, here he views this system as just one of a meaningless run of social orders, founded in common upon exploitation (157; 8:486–92). Beyond any parallel with Homer, it is perhaps this disquieting vision of history as sheer rapacity that explains Bloom’s distaste at the Burton scene, where “[e]very fellow” appears “for his own, tooth and nail […] Eat or be eaten. Kill! Kill!” (162; 8:701–3). Joyce’s Linati schema refers to the episode’s “peristaltic prose.”8 Peristalsis is a physiological term for the waves of muscular contraction and relaxation that propel food along the 7  Ibid. 8  Ibid.

gastrointestinal tract, and while the thematic relevance to “Lestrygonians” is clear, it is not so obvious how this relates to the prose. In the first book-length study of Ulysses, Stuart Gilbert connected it to Bloom’s halting progress through the city, and to the cycles of social growth and decay that deject him – to everything, that is, but the prose. In the years since, other critics have proposed more ingenious explanations, for instance mapping Bloom’s route to a figurative journey from the mouth to anus of a “gigantic female organism,” and reading the oscillation between exterior and interior viewpoints as a stylistic reflection of the digestive process.9 In fact, this oscillation characterizes what Joyce described as the novel’s “initial style,” the dominant narrative approach for around the first ten episodes of Ulysses (L I 129).10 Its typical pattern is a lead sentence of external narration, presenting Bloom in relation to a place, person or object, followed by a number of short sentences of interior monologue, prompted by the object and progressing towards a limited number of preoccupations: Molly, Boylan, and, to a lesser extent, other family members; advertisements and commodities; religion, especially in its material aspects; civic schemes; Irish politics, and the colonial situation; and, in “Lestrygonians,” poverty, hunger, food, and the lives of the well-to-do. The approach takes the reader’s attention for granted, providing almost no exposition, and presenting both the inner and the outer worlds with the illusion of immediacy. Food imagery aside, “Lestrygonians” is generally consistent with other “initial style” episodes. Yet the chapter is not without its own challenges, particularly for the first-time reader. It has a higher proportion of interior monologue to external narration than any other episode 9  Stuart Gilbert, James Joyce’s “Ulysses”: A

Study (New York: Vintage, 1955), 208; Aida Yared, “Eating and Digesting ‘Lestrygonians’: A Physiological Model of Reading,” James Joyce Quarterly 46: 3–4 (2009), 469–70.

10  The classic account of the development of Joyce’s narrative approach to Ulysses is Michael Groden, “Ulysses” in Progress (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1977).

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except “Proteus,” and the mode is here maintained at far greater length.11 This technique, perfected if not quite invented by Joyce, is perhaps less intimidating for today’s readers, after a century of adoption and adaptation by other writers. Yet it remains formidable, demanding the reader’s active engagement in tracing the connections and interplay between Bloom’s inner world – his perceptions, thoughts, memories and ideas – and his surroundings. For example, in one of the two longest paragraphs, Bloom observes a local advertising spectacle: A procession of whitesmocked sandwichmen marched slowly towards him along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards. Bargains. Like that priest they are this morning: we have sinned: we have suffered. He read the scarlet letters on their five tall white hats: H. E. L. Y. S. Wisdom Hely’s. Y lagging behind drew a chunk of bread from under his foreboard, crammed it into his mouth and munched as he walked. Our staple food. Three bob a day, walking along the gutters, street after street. Just keep skin and bone together, bread and skilly. They are not Boyl: no, M’Glade’s men. Doesn’t bring in any business either. I suggested to him about a transparent showcart with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters. (147; 8:123–32)

This opens with a third-person, past-tense description of men in white clothing, carrying sandwichboards that bear advertising material, located in relation to Bloom. The one-word sentence, “Bargains,” signals the shift to interior monologue, as Bloom reads from the boards; he is reminded of the priest he saw in “Lotus Eaters” with “[l]etters on his back: […] I. H. S.” (78; 5:372), and thinks again of the explanation Molly gave for the acronym, “I have sinned: or no: I have suffered” (78; 5:373). A brief return to the third person orients Bloom’s reading of the letters on the men’s hats, “H. E. L. Y. S.,” spelled out in the text to suggest his sequential comprehension. With another short sentence, he identifies the advertised company as Wisdom Hely’s, for whom, 11  Eric Bulson, “Ulysses by Numbers,” Representations 127:1 (2014), 15.

as we know from Ned Lambert’s comment in “Hades” (102; 6:703), Bloom once worked as a traveling salesman. Then comes a sentence describing the man in the “Y” hat, evidently focalized through Bloom, since it prompts the reflections that follow, but again external, in the third-person past tense, with the somewhat unBloomian vocabulary, “foreboard.” For the rest of the paragraph, all is interior. Bloom’s thoughts move from the bread the man is eating (punning on the wares of Hely’s the stationer, with “staple food”?), to the poor wages of sandwichmen, close to the breadline. He wonders if they work for “Boyl” – short for Boylan, who owns a billsticking company (685; 17:2206–7) – but decides quickly upon M’Glade, a real-life billsticking and advertising agent. Suppressing further thoughts of his rival, Boylan, Bloom recalls his disagreements with Hely over his advertising ideas for the company: these include a transparent show-cart, of the kind used to exhibit animals at the fair, displaying “[s]mart girls writing something” in order to “catch the eye” (147; 8:133–34). We learn that Hely did not take up the suggestion. This passage exemplifies some of the challenges in getting to grips with Joyce’s “initial style.” First, there is the difficulty in negotiating Dublin as setting. Like other early episodes, “Lestrygonians” presents a congeries of real-life material: local figures and personages, buildings and landmarks, shops, businesses, news items, and advertisements. These are sometimes named and located by the external narrator, but conventional explanatory detail is either omitted, or refracted through Bloom’s interior monologue – leading into the second challenge. The partial, aggregate nature of the interior monologue requires a certain kind of reader, willing to return to whichever earlier scenes inform Bloom’s present thoughts, to retain a seemingly obscure detail pending later context or clarification, and to follow the subjective links between his observations, ideas, and memories. While this gives the reader an unusually active role in the construction of the narrative, it is a painstaking process, and there is enough to do for newcomers to Ulysses in grasping the details of Bloom’s perceptions on the one side, and his environment on the other.

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Yet there is a third challenge for the reader, which consists in detecting and exploring the gaps and disjunctions between the inner world and the outer. In this example, Bloom tells himself that Wisdom Hely rejected his ad suggestion “because he didn’t think of it himself first” (147; 8:137). Here and elsewhere, Bloom considers himself an innovative advertiser, and while his showcart idea may not be as original as he thinks, following the nineteenth-century vogue for such Barnum, his thoughts about advertising elsewhere in the novel are indeed relatively progressive, reflecting Joyce’s research into the psychological theories that transformed the field in the first decades of the twentieth century. But whatever the merits of Bloom’s ideas, his insistence upon sharing them with the owner of one of Dublin’s largest stationers is presumptuous, given that his position as “traveller for blottingpaper” (102; 6:703) is not related to advertising. Across the novel, Joyce creates such gaps as these, ­between Bloom’s self-conceptions, and his position as perceived by others. Here we see a minor example, comically revealing something of the “Mister Knowall” tendencies that we are later told cost Bloom his job with Cuffe (302; 12:838). Elsewhere the situation is more serious, as in the “Cyclops” episode, where Bantam Lyons’s mistaken belief that Bloom gave him a winning betting tip – first asserted in Davy Byrne’s pub, when Bloom is off-stage (170; 8:1023) – leads the unwitting abstainer towards an anti-Semitic attack. Bloom has advanced in his advertising career from his earlier position as traveling salesman. But as a canvasser for Freeman’s Journal Ltd, his involvement with Dublin’s advertising industry remains limited, consisting not in the lucrative enterprise enjoyed by the freelance agent – placement, space brokerage, or design – but in the negotiation of terms between the newspaper and the advertiser. On one level, Joyce’s choice of career for his protagonist is part of his characterization of Bloom as a man on the margins of civic life, whose forwardlooking ideas are undervalued by his fellow citizens. At the same time, it signals a radical shift in his depiction of Dublin life itself. In A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, the capital’s

commercial activity is all but invisible, restricted to the transactions of prostitutes and streetsellers, a “sordid tide of life” that Stephen seeks to avoid, whether through the abnegations of the religious retreat, the intellectual hauteur of scholasticism, or through his final escape to the continent (P 82). In Ulysses, we see a city that is more recognizably modern, a developed commodity culture in which Bloom, both at work and at leisure, participates fully. From the moment he leaves his house in “Calypso,” to the time of his return in “Ithaca,” Bloom is immersed in this commodity culture; at home his immersion continues with his dream of Flowerville (667; 17:1580), a consumerist reverie of domestic luxury. But it is “Lestrygonians” that brings him to the heart of Ireland’s emerging consumer culture, “Grafton street gay with housed awnings” (160; 8:614). When Stephen walks here in Portrait, it is a scene of “discouraged poverty,” colored by his dismissal of a “hoydenish” girl selling flowers on the street (P 154). For Bloom, by contrast, it is a scene of excitement and yearning, his senses “lured” by the commodities on display. He envisages purchases as he stands outside a high-end store, dressing up his wife in the rich material he sees: “Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk stockings.” The language is as opulent as the goods described – “silkwebs, silver, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa” (160; 8:631–2, 635) – and Bloom’s sensual indulgence runs inexorably into sexual fantasy, less of any particular act or encounter (though Molly is there throughout), and more of sex as an abstract force, culminating in Joyce’s famously crafted description: “Perfume of embraces all him assailed. With hungered flesh obscurely, he mutely craved to adore” (160; 8:638–39). We are no longer in Stephen’s dreary domain, but in the spectacular, libidinal realm of consumerism; the commodity is no longer mere merchandise, “trivial and obvious,” but what Guy Debord defines as “materialised illusion,” psychologically complex and “full of metaphysical subtleties.”12 Ulysses is the first major novel to present commodities in such 12  Guy Debord, Society of the Spectacle, trans. Ken Knabb (London: Rebel Press, 2004), 23, 17.

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a way, intelligible to later theories of capitalist modernity, and the climax of consumerist desire in this episode suggests another way of understanding Joyce’s invocation of Homer’s insatiably consuming Lestrygonians. But if Bloom is swayed by the appetites of late capitalism, Joyce’s representation of Dublin’s commodity culture also carries a sharp political bite. At the chapter’s opening, Bloom observes a Christian Brothers schoolboy buying confectionary from Graham Lemon’s sweetshop, under the displayed royal warrant: “Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King” (144; 8:3–4). From the start, the consumption of commodities is located within the economic context of the British Empire. Taking the warranted claim to its comical conclusion by picturing the monarch sitting on the throne ­sucking his favorite throat sweets, Bloom perhaps diminishes the grandeur of the King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and Emperor of India. But as critics have noted, the image of the king “sucking red jujubes white” also carries sinister overtones, invoking the contemporary trope of the vampiric colonizer draining Ireland’s resources.13 As Joyce argued in a series of articles he published in the Trieste press in 1907, the British imperial enterprise was inseparable from its commercial activity.14 In the earlier stages of colonization, the main objective was to secure raw materials for the motherland. From the nineteenth century, as Britain’s commodity culture proliferated, the colonies were also maintained as new markets for British goods. In effect, manufacturers converted the raw materials garnered from the colonies into pricier, branded commodities, which were then shipped back, tariff-free, to colonial consumers. Joyce gives a precise instance of this system in Ulysses, with the British product, Plumtree’s Potted Meat. The brand looms over Bloom for the duration of the novel, from his first read13  Trevor L. Williams, “‘Hungry Man is an Angry Man’: A Marxist Reading of Consumption in Joyce’s Ulysses,” Mosaic: An Interdisciplinary Critical Journal 99:1 (1993), 99. 14  See e.g. “Home Rule Comes of Age,” (OCPW 142–44).

ing of its sexually suggestive advertisement in “Lotus Eaters” (72; 5:144), to his return home in “Ithaca,” where he finds an empty pot in the kitchen and crumbs in the marital bed, evidence of Boylan’s cheap date with Molly (627– 28, 683; 17:304, 2124–25). Bloom’s grievances are personal and, as we see in “Lestrygonians,” professional: he questions the cadaverous connotations brought to the product by the ad’s placement “[u]nder the obituary notices” in the newspaper, “[w]hat a stupid ad!” (163; 8:743). But they are also political. Sitting in Davy Byrne’s, Bloom looks at the potted meat on the shelf, and wonders, “Lord knows what concoction” (163; 8:749–50). His suspicion is justified. By the turn of the twentieth century, Britain was importing millions of tons of live animals and carcasses from its colonies in North and South America, Australia, New Zealand, and Ireland. While much of this meat was for domestic consumption, a large portion, particularly the offal and what Bloom describes as the “[b]yproducts of the slaughterhouses” (94; 6:396), was used for the manufacture of cheap and easily transportable processed goods, such as Plumtree’s, or Bovril meat extract, which appears in the “Oxen of the Sun” episode (406; 14:1547). In “Hades” Bloom had witnessed the “divided drove of branded cattle” headed “[f]or Liverpool probably. Roastbeef for old England. They buy up all the juicy ones” (94; 6:385, 393–94). In “Lestrygonians,” he sees what is left of this meat for colonial consumers on the shelves of Davy Byrne’s: “Cauls mouldy tripes windpipes faked and minced up. Puzzle find the meat” (163; 8:750–51). Tracing the branded product back through its political and material contingency, Joyce “dereifies” the commodity, stripping the polished aura it attains as consumerist image.15 It would have been impossible for a Dubliner living in 1904 not to be affected by these commercial relations, which, after all, determined the very food on the plate. In fact, the issue was openly and vociferously politicized in the first decade of the twentieth century, through the “Buy Irish” campaign led by D. P. Moran and 15  Fredric Jameson, “Ulysses in History,” in James Joyce and Modern Literature, ed. W. J. McCormack and Alistair Stead (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1982), 135.

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Arthur Griffith. Publishing in the nationalist press, these and other nationalist leaders argued stridently for the boycotting of British goods, naming and shaming local companies that chose English suppliers over domestic competitors, and exposing British companies that attempted to circumvent growing nationalist commitment by disguising their Britishness with stock Irish brand names. Joyce was an early supporter of the campaign, staying up to date with Griffith’s editorials from abroad, and writing to his brother in defense of the “Buy Irish” program: “fighting England with the knife and fork,” he said, was “the highest form of political warfare” (L II 129; JJ 238). It is consistent with this position that Joyce has Bloom think approvingly of Griffith in “Lestrygonians,” for his materially oriented politics and his disdain for sentimental “gas about our lovely land” (156; 8:463–64). Yet in the charged environment in which he is placed, Bloom’s attitude to the commodities that surround him are not consistently anticolonial. Gazing in the window of an optician’s on the corner of Grafton Street, he sees Goerz lenses for sale, and thinks of “Germans making their everywhere. Sell on easy terms to capture trade. Undercutting” (158; 8:554–55). Far removed from “Buy Irish” concerns, this is a received British imperialist sentiment – widespread at the turn of the century – reflecting the growth in German industrial production under the Kaiserreich. In 1903, Chamberlain had called for tariffs upon German goods entering British colonies and disrupting imperial trade, marshaling the rhetoric of the day in declaring that “the Empire is being attacked on all sides, and in our isolation we must look to ourselves.”16 By the time Joyce wrote “Lestrygonians,” in the final year of the First World War, the martial rhetoric had given way to reality. The “Lestrygonians” episode, then, presents Dublin’s consumer culture in all its complexity. Bloom’s experience in Grafton Street registers the exotic, phantasmagoric aura of the commodity under late capitalism, where 16  G. A. Vince, Mr Chamberlain’s Proposals: What They Mean and What We Shall Gain from Them (London: Grant Richards, 1903), 13.

material is converted to image through the spectacle of advertising. At the same time, as with the Plumtree’s Potted Meat example, this image is demystified, the product reduced to its unsavory member parts. Finally, as briefly suggested by the contrast between Bloom’s approving thoughts of Griffith, the “Buy Irish” nationalist, and his British imperialist reflections on the Goerz lenses, Joyce maps the overdetermined political and ideological forces that governed Irish consumption, portraying their effect upon the thoughts and actions of his fictional consumer. With this last example in particular, we also see another challenge in negotiating Joyce’s “initial style.” Meaning is created in the interplay between Bloom’s inner world and the outer world of 1904 Dublin. Yet as the Goerz scene suggests, this interplay is not unmediated, but conditioned by the greater social, ideological, and discursive contexts within which Joyce wrote and situated his work. The reader is therefore tasked not only with interpreting the way in which Bloom responds to his environment, but also in tracing the ideological forces that shape those responses – forces not described, and evident only in their effects. Yet if these greater contexts appear remote and overwhelming to the twenty-first-­century reader, it may be reassuring to know that many of Joyce’s contemporaries felt the same way. Wyndham Lewis complained in his 1927 study, Time and Western Man, that Ulysses presents “a suffocating […] expanse of objects, all of them lifeless, the sewage of a Past twenty years old.”17 With his notoriously obsessive attention to detail, Joyce created a world that was by 1922 – post-War, and on the cusp of Irish Independence – already a past order. In other words, the discursive and ideological demands that the novel places upon today’s reader are not created by our historical or geographical distance, but are an interpretive problem built into the text itself. Epitomizing the challenges of the earlier chapters of Ulysses, “Lestrygonians” presents Joyce’s “initial style” in its finished form, carefully harmonized in technique, 17  Wyndham Lewis, Time and Western Man (London: Chatto & Windus, 1927), 108.

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c­haracterization, Homeric allusion, language, and theme, with a politics loaded by Joyce’s incorporation of real-world commodities and the ideologies that surround them. By the time Bloom returns at length, in the “Sirens” episode, Joyce has developed a radically new aesthetic, in which the stylistic experimentation and parody introduced with the “Aeolus”

captions take precedence over inner and outer world alike. First-time readers of Ulysses will soon be in uncharted waters. Grasping the dynamics of “Lestrygonians,” moving back and forth between its internal and external narrative registers, with an eye to context, allows the clinching of reading strategies ready for the trickier straits to follow.

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G 8:20

lemon platt: lemon-flavored candy stick. christian brother: the Irish Christian Brothers, Catholic teaching organization with temporary vows. Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King: slogan of confectioner Lemon & Co., Ltd. comfit: fruit, nut, or spice coated with sugar candy. jujubes: lozenges made of gelatin and flavored with fruit. Y. M. C. A.: Young Men’s Christian Association.

Graham Lemon’s: Lemon & Co., 49 Lower Sackville. throwaway: disposable flyer. Blood of the Lamb: from Revelations 7:14–17. kidney burntoffering: made to the gods by Odysseus and his men, also a feature of ancient Jewish rituals. druids: ancient Celtic priestly and learned caste. Elijah is coming: Jewish belief that Elijah will return to announce the Messiah, Malachi 4:5–6. Torry and Alexander: American evangelists

Reuben Archer Torrey (1856–1928) and Charles McCallon Alexander (1867–1920) visited Dublin in 1904. Polygamy: charge brought against Dowie. Pepper’s ghost idea: staged illusion of ghostly presence created by John Pepper in the 1870s. Iron nails ran in: Bloom’s version of I.N.R.I.; see 78. Butler’s monument house corner: George Butler’s Monument House, musical instrument warehouse, 34 Bachelors Walk.

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G 8:40 insert fullstop after reverence for mum’s read Mum’s

G 8:60

Dillon’s auctionrooms: 25 Bachelors Walk. Lobbing: moving heavily or clumsily. priest won’t give the confession, the absolution: in Catholicism, contraception is a sin but can be absolved through contrition and penance. Increase and multiply: Genesis 1:28. Living on the fat of the land: Genesis 45:18. black fast: severe fast. Yom Kippur: Hebrew, “Day of Atonement.” Crossbuns: bun indented with a cross, consumed on Good Friday. collation: light meal permitted during fast days. A housekeeper of one […] out of her: Bloom desires to know the reality of priests’

private lives. L. s. d: pounds, shillings, and pence. Watching his water: keeping a close eye on people. flitters: tatters, rags. marge: margarine. Brewery barge with export stout: stout from Guinness’s Brewery was transported in barges to the docks. puke again like christians: play on the mid-nineteenth century notion of “Muscular Christianity,” which championed patriotic duty, discipline, self-sacrifice, and manliness. thirtytwo feet per sec: abbreviated version of the rate of acceleration of falling bodies. Erin’s King: Dublin sightseeing boat; see 64.

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G 8:80

G 8:100

Shakespeare has no rhymes: Bloom might think this because many of Shakespeare’s famous speeches are unrhymed. Hamlet, I am […] walk the earth: after Hamlet (as the Ghost says he is to “walk the night”). Australians they must be this time of year: from the southern hemisphere, due to seasonal availability. Banbury cakes: pastry with mince filling from Banbury in Oxfordshire, England. Manna: God sends manna to feed the Israelites as they wander through the desert, Exodus 16. Live on fish, fishy flesh (G, inclusion).

Anna Liffey: Abhainn na Life, Irish, “river of the Plain of Life” Wonder what kind […] live on them: from Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe (1719); the swan is considered unclean in Leviticus and Deuteronomy. They spread foot and mouth disease too: there is no evidence of this. Kino’s: J. C. Kino, West End Clothiers Co., 12 College Green. greenhouses: men’s public urinals, painted green. Dr Hy Franks: pseudonym of Adam J. Farlow, who posed as a doctor selling fake cures for venereal diseases. on the q.t.: on the quiet.

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for Time ball read Timeball

G 8:120

G 8:140

Time ball on the ballast office is down: positioned on top of the Ballast Office, headquarters to the supervisors of Dublin Harbour, at the corner of Westmoreland Street and Aston Quay, a four-foot copper ball would drop at 1 p.m. GMT everyday for the setting of ships’ chronometers. Dunsink time: Dublin time was twenty-five minutes behind Greenwich Mean Time and displayed on a clock on the Ballast Office connected by telegraph wire to Dunsink Observatory, Phoenix Park. Parallax: the apparent shift in position of an object caused by the observer’s

movement. Par it’s Greek: prefix, para, “besides, close to.” Met him pikehoses: Molly’s mispronunciation of “metempsychosis”; see 62. big Ben: Ben Dollard. baron of beef: joint consisting of two sirloins left uncut at the backbone. number one Bass: Bass Pale Ale brewed by Bass, Ratcliff, and Gretton, Ltd, Staffordshire, England. skilly: porridge or gruel made from oatmeal and water. Boyl: no: M’Glade’s: Boylan has an advertising agency; B. McGlade, advertising agent, 42 Abbey Street. Pillar of salt: Genesis 19:24–26; see 59.

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G 8:160

for selcovered read selfcovered

for daguerrotype read daguerreotype

G 8:180

ruck: crowd. Tranquilla convent: Rathmines Terrace, founded 1833. Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel: the founding of the Carmelite order is celebrated on July 16, or the following Sunday. dripping: fat exuded by cooking meat. Pat Claffey: Patricia, daughter of Mrs M. Claffey, pawnbroker, 65–66 Amiens Street. barbed wire: invented by Lucien B. Smith, William B. Hunt, and Michael Kelly. Rover cycleshop: 23 Westmoreland Street. Those races are on today: College sports; see 83. the big fire at Arnott’s: on May 4, 1894, a fire consumed an entire block of Sackville (O’Connell) Street from Henry Street to Prince’s Street. Glencree

dinner: annual fundraising dinner for St Kevin’s Reformatory, County Wicklow. Alderman Robert O’Reilly: Dublin politician and merchant tailor, 8 Parliament Street. for the inner alderman: the inner man, one’s appetite. Sugarloaf: Great Sugar Loaf and Little Sugar Loaf Mountains, southeast of Dublin. Dockrell’s: Thomas Dockrell & Sons, Ltd, contractors, decorators, land and estate agents, 47–49 Lower Stephen Street. daguerrotype: early photographic process. Pendennis: Penrose; The History of Pendennis (1850), novel by William Makepeace Thackeray (1811–63).

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G 8:200

G 8:220

Winds that blow from the south: from “Whisper, and I Shall Hear,” by G. Hubi Newcombe, music by M. Piccolomini. that lodge meeting on about those lottery tickets: Bloom was arrested for selling tickets to a foreign lottery (the Royal and Privileged Hungarian Lottery), which was illegal in 1904, and his Freemason connections came to his assistance. the supper room or oakroom of the mansion house: Mansion House, Dawson Street, official residence of

Dublin’s lord mayor. high school: Erasmus Smith High School, 40 Harcourt Street; founded 1870; Yeats was an alumnus. sot: fool. May be for months and may be for never: paraphrasing the song “Kathleen Mavourneen” (Kathleen Darling), by Annie Barry Crawford, music by Frederick W. N. Crouch. busk: rigid element of center and front of a corset. on the baker’s list: well; literally, eating again. bad penny: ne’er do well.

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G 8:240 insert comma after leather

Your funeral’s tomorrow […] Diddlediddle ...: from two songs, “His Funeral’s Tomorrow” by Felix McGlennon, and “Comin’ Through the Rye” by Robert Burns. a caution to rattlesnakes: alarming enough to startle snakes. He has me heartscalded: Dublin idiom, “He’ll be the death of me.” jampuffs: jam-filled pastry. rolypoly: pudding made up of pastry covered up with jam and rolled. Harrison’s: Harrison & Co., confectioners, 29 Westmoreland Street. Demerara sugar: cane sugar from a region

of Guyana. Penny dinner […] to the table: the Christian Union building, 12 Lower Abbey Street, hosted free breakfasts and dinners with cutlery tethered to the table. her handbag, chipped leather. Hatpin (G, inclusion). barging: speaking roughly, abusively. new moon: there was a new moon over Dublin on June 13, 1904; superstition associates moonlight with madness. Indiges: possibly indigestion. the ace of spades: card of ill luck in fortune telling.

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G 8:260

for long’ read long

G 8:280

U. P. : up: U. p: up (G, correction of this and all following instances); Bloom spells and reads the word aloud; various explanations have been offered but most likely source is the expression used by the apothecary’s apprentice in Dickens’s Oliver Twist

(1838) to euphemistically announce an imminent death, “it’s all U.P. there.” toque: hat or headdress. lying-in hospital: National Maternity Hospital on Holles Street. three days bad: in labor for three days.

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G 8:300

G 8:320

glass: monocle. Blown in from the bay: newcomer, not yet accepted. Meshuggah: Yiddish, “mad, crazy, eccentric.” Off his chump: out of his mind. dangling stick, umbrella, dustcoat: dangling stickumbrelladustcoat (G, correction). Going the two days: (Dublin slang) behaving in an over-the-top

manner. mosey: fool. the Scotch House: pub run by James Weir & Co., Ltd, 6–7 Burgh Quay. a feast for the gods: “Let’s carve him, as a Dish fit for the Gods,” Julius Caesar (ii.i.173). Irish Times: daily morning newspaper, 31 Westmoreland Street, where Bloom has placed an ad.

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G 8:340

G 8:360

Got the provinces now: the Irish Times’ circulation. Resp: Respectable. James Carlisle: James Carlyle, manager, director of the Irish Times. Ca’canny: Scots, drive gently, move cautiously. hunks: miser. vicereine: viceroy’s wife. Irish Field: weekly racing paper. enlargement: release of the fox. Rathoath: town northwest of Dublin. Uneatable fox: fox-hunting is “the unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable,” in Oscar Wilde’s A Woman of No Importance (1893). Pothunters: hunting for sustenance. not for Joe: title of an 1850s American song by A. Lloyd. while you’d say knife: quickly. Stubbs the park ranger: Henry G.

Stubbs, Board of Public Works. Scavening: Scavenging (G, correction). educational dairy. Y.M.C.A. Eating with (G, inclusion). Theodore’s cousin: Mortimer Edward Purefoy worked in the Treasury Remembrancer’s Office. the Three Jolly Topers: Irish folk song; possibly The Jolly Toper, public house, Cardiffsbridge, near Finglas; toper, hard drinker. t.t’s: teetotalers. Dog in the manger: person who keeps something despite having no use for it. Rowe’s: Andrew Rowe’s pub, 2 Great George’s Street South. the Burton: the Burton Hotel and Billiard Rooms, 18 Duke Street.

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G 8:380

G 8:400

Bolton’s Westmoreland house: William Bolton & Co., grocers tea, wine and spirit merchants, 35–36 Westmoreland Street. vinegared handkerchief: used to reduce fevers and ease headaches. Twilightsleep: sedative given to women at childbirth. Nine she had: Queen Victoria had nine children. good layer: productive hen. Suppose he was consumptive: Prince Albert died of typhoid fever; consumption was thought to make sufferers sexually overactive. the pensive bosom of the silver effulgence: from a Dan Dawson speech. Flapdoodle: empty talk. Mrs Moisel: gave birth to a daughter two weeks after Milly’s birth.

Phthisis: progressive wasting disease; treatment involved fresh air. Tom Wall’s: Thomas J. Wall, King’s Counsel, chief divisional magistrate of the Dublin Police District, 26 Longford Terrace, Monkstown. Snuffy: easily annoyed. Goose green: Goosegreen Avenue in Drumcondra, north of Dublin. Mackerel: fish; mediator, agent; (slang) pimp, bawd. debouched: issued from a narrow or confined place. College street: police station at the eastern end of College Street. Policeman’s lot is oft a happy one: inversion of “A policeman’s lot is not a happy one,” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s Pirates of Penzance (1880).

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G 8:420

for presenee read presence

G 8:440

Tommy Moore’s roguish finger: the statue of Thomas Moore is pointing; Moore was called “roguish” by Francis Mahony for copying French and Latin texts. meeting of the waters […] world a vallee: from Moore’s “The Meeting of the Waters.” could a tale unfold: Hamlet (i.v.15–16). G man: detective in the elite plain-clothes G division, Dublin Metropolitan Police. lagged: arrested. bridewell: jail. hornies: constables. Manning’s: T. J. Manning’s pub, 41 Upper Abbey Street. souped: in trouble. the Trinity jibs: first-year undergraduates. Wheels within wheels: from Ezekiel 1:16. Give

me in charge: hand over in custody. We’ll hang Joe Chamberlain […] sourapple tree: after the American Civil War song “John Brown’s Body.” Vinegar Hill: decisive battle in the Irish Rebellion of 1798. Butter exchange band: musical group formed by members of the dairyman’s guild, the Butter Exchange. whether on the scaffold high: from the song “God Save Ireland,” by Timothy Daniel Sullivan (1827–1914). Harvey Duff: police informer in the play The Shaughraun, by Boucicault. twig: to perceive, discern. Squarepushing: military expression for romancing a woman.

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Decoy duck: lure. James Stephens’ idea […] his own ring: the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB) was structured as separate cells to limit infiltration. Sinn Fein: Irish, “we ourselves”; a publication and then a political movement, both founded by Arthur Griffith. Back out you get the knife: those who betrayed the IRB were subject to assassination. Turnkey’s daughter […] their very noses: James Stephens’s escape; see 43. Lusk: coastal village, County Dublin. Garibaldi: Giuseppe Garibaldi (1807–82), Italian general, patriot, and republican, fought Austrian forces and contributed to Italian

unification. squareheaded: sensible. go: dash, energy. to gas: to talk idly. Gammon and spinach: nonsense, deceit. Dublin Bakery Company’s tearoom: Dublin Bread Company, 27 Stephen Street; restaurants 3–4 St Stephen’s Green North, 33 Dame Street, and 6–7 Sackville Street. Michaelmas: September 29. apron: skin that covers the belly of a goose. Penny roll and a walk with the band: the Salvation Army offered individuals a penny’s worth of bread in exchange for walking in the parade to announce their conversion. Home Rule sun rising up in the northwest: the banner of the Freeman’s Journal; see 55.

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bread and onions: cheap food. Big stones left. Round towers: remnants of ancient Irish druid stone circles or burial mounds and medieval monasteries. jerrybuilt: built to sell but not to last. Kerwan’s mushroom houses: low-cost houses built by Michael Kirwan, contractor, for the Dublin Artisans’ Dwellings Company. reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon: Rev. George Salmon (1819–1904), provost of Trinity College; tinned: (slang) wealthy. Walter Sexton’s widow: Walter Sexton, goldsmith, jeweler, silversmith, and watchmaker, 118 Grafton Street. Charley Boulger: Charley Kavanagh (G, correction): Dublin city Marshall (1891–94). Mad Fanny: Frances

Isabel Parnell (1848–82), poetess, Parnell’s sister. Mrs Dickinson: Emily Parnell Dickinson (1841–1928), Parnell’s sister; married Captain Arthur Dickinson. surgeon M’Ardle: John S. McArdle, Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland; surgeon at St Vincent’s Hospital, Dublin. David Sheehy: (1844– 1932), beat John Howard Parnell for the South Meath seat in 1903. the Chiltern Hundreds: symbolic office with no real duties. Eating orangepeels in the park: to annoy Protestant Orangemen, Irish nationalists would eat oranges at events in Phoenix Park. Of the twoheaded […] with a Scotch accent: A. E.’s words.

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Coming events cast their shadows before: from the ballad “Lochiel’s Warning” (1802), by Thomas Campbell (1777–1844). homespun: A. E. wore clothes from coarse hand-woven fabric to promote Irish cottage industry. vegetarian: A. E. was not a strict vegetarian; vegetarianism was a Theosophical practice. weggebobbles: vegetables. the eyes of that cow […] through all eternity: notion espoused by Annie Besant, Theosophist, in The Ancient Wisdom (1897). bloater: cow suffering from painful stomach distention,

usually from inappropriate fodder. nutsteak: meat substitute made from nuts. They cook in soda: boiling in water with baking soda preserves chlorophyll. Yeates and Son: Opticians and manufacturers of mathematical instruments, 2 Grafton Street. old Harris’s: Morris Harris, jeweler, 30 Nassau Street. young Sinclair: William Sinclair, grandson of Morris Harris. Goerz lenses: German optical manufacturer. Limerick junction: major railroad junction in County Tipperary.

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delete comma after relief

Lombard street west. Looking up from the back garden. Terrific explosions (G, inclusion): 1894 was the peak of an eleven-year cycle of sunspots. total eclipse this year: September 9, 1904; not visible in Dublin. Dunsink: the Trinity College observatory in Phoenix Park was open to the public the first Saturday of the month. professor Joly: Charles Jasper Joly (1864–1906), Andrews’ Professor of Astronomy at Trinity College, Astronomer Royal of Ireland, Director of the Observatory. Cap in hand goes through the land: Irish proverb, humbleness is more effective than arrogance. Gas, then solid […] frozen

rock: nebular hypothesis of the universe by PierreSimon de Laplace (1749–1827). la Maison Claire: Court Dressmaker, 4 Grafton Street. The full moon: May 29, 1904. the Tolka […] Fairview: the Tolka river empties into Dublin Bay at Fairview. The young May moon: song by Thomas Moore. Touch fingers: (slang) have sexual intercourse. Adam court: off Grafton Street. cherchez la femme: French, “find the woman,” meaning a woman is to blame. chummies: chimney sweep’s assistants. Sloping: wandering. Empire: Empire Buffet, pub and restaurant, 1–3 Adam Court.

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G 8:600 delete comma after had

G 8:620

Pat Kinsella: owner of the Harp Musical Hall, cabaret, 1–3 Adam Court. Whitbred: James W. Whitbread (1847–1916), manager of the Queen’s Royal Theatre, Great Brunswick Street. Broth of a boy: exemplary boy. Dion Boucicault business […] poky bonnet: Whitbread staged and acted in plays by Irish-born Boucicault, whose works featured stage Irishmen. Three Purty Maids from School: “Three Little Maids from School,” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s Mikado. More power: expression to give encouragement. The harp that once did starve us all: after Thomas Moore’s “The Harp that Once

through Tara’s Halls.” Grafton street: shopping street in Dublin. chawbacon: unsophisticated person. Brown Thomas: Brown Thomas & Co., milliners and drapers, 15–17 Grafton Street. huguenots brought that here: French Huguenot refugees to Ireland in the late seventeenth century brought expertise in textiles. La causa è santa […] bom bom bom: Italian, “the cause is sacred,” from Les Huguenots, 1836 opera by Giacomo Meyerbeer (1791–1864); Lacaus esant tara tara (G, correction). Women won’t pick […] cuts lo: superstition that picking up pins divides the affections. Agendath Netaim: society of planters; see 58.

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G 8:640

G 8:660

Burton: restaurant; see 153. Combridge’s corner: Combridge & Co., picture depot, print sellers, 20 Grafton Street. halfmasticated gristle: gums: no teeth (G, inclusion). See ourselves as others see us: from Burns’s “To a Louse”; see 6. That last pagan king […] him to Christianity: from the poem “The Burial of King Cormac,” by Sir Samuel Ferguson (1810–86);

Cormac was reputedly the first convert to Christianity in Ireland. galoptious: delightful. plug: cake or stick of tobacco. stale of ferment. His gorge rose. Couldn’t eat (G, inclusion). tootles: nursery word for teeth. Look at this picture then on that: “Look here, upon this picture, and on this,” Hamlet (iii.iv.53). Scoffing: devouring.

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G 8:680

for news-paper read newspaper

G 8:700

Safer to eat from his three hands: from the expression “You could eat faster if you had three hands.” Rock, the bailiff: Captain Rock, nickname of nineteenth-century rebels who punished bailiffs for oppressing tenants. Unchster Bunk: Munster Bank. Gobstuff: mouthful of food. porringers: small earthenware, or wood, basins. tommycans: lunch cans. every mother’s son: everyone; A Midsummer Night’s Dream (i.ii.81). don’t talk of […] provost of Trinity: from the ballad “Father O’Flynn,” by Alfred Percival Graves (1846–1931). children, cabmen, priests, parsons, fieldmarshals, archbishops: children cabmen priests parsons fieldmarshals

archbishops (G, correction). Ailesbury road, Clyde road: two fashionable Dublin streets. artisans’ dwellings north Dublin union: housing built by the Dublin Artisans’ Dwellings Company for the working poor. gingerbread coach: ornate coach used by Dublin’s lord mayor on special occasions. bathchair: similar to a wheelchair. sir Philip Crampton’s fountain: statue and fountain furnished with drinking cups. make hares of them all: show their ignorance, from “Father O’Flynn.” flitches: salted and cured side of bacon. City Arms Hotel: renters hotel, 55 Prussia Street. table d’hôte: fixedprice meal.

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G 8:720

G 8:740

tabloids: pills. Staggering bob: three-day-old calf, slaughtered for veal. Bubble and squeak: boiled potatoes and cabbage. lights: lungs. Rawhead and bloody bones: boogeyman in Irish folklore. Top and lashers: butcher’s expression, head and tail of an animal. decline: any wasting disease. Shandygaff: beer and ginger ale. Ham and his descendants mustered and bred there: after Charles C. Bombaugh’s Gleanings for the Curious from the Harvest Fields of Literature, “The tribe of Ham was bred there and mustered,” after Genesis 9:20–21. up a plumtree: cornered; trapped by an unwanted

pregnancy. cauls: amniotic membrane. No meat and milk together: Jewish dietary rule. Hygiene that was: some Jewish dietary rules coincide with hygienic practices. Yom kippur fast spring cleaning of inside: the day-long Yom Kippur fast in early autumn. Slaughter of innocents: Matthew 2:16–18. Eat, drink and be merry: Ecclesiastes 8:15. casual wards: outpatient clinic. Cheese digests all but itself: expression dating from the sixteenth century, referring to the action of rennet in the production of cheese. Mighty cheese: mity cheese (G, correction): rich with cheese mites.

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G 8:760

G 8:780

God made food, the devil the cooks: “God sends meat, and the Devil sends the cooks,” John Taylor (1580–1653), English poet. grog: spirits and water. curate: bartender. hauched: hanched (G, correction):

Scots dialect, to snatch, snap, or bite violently. Pub clock five minutes: clocks in pubs were set ahead to assist the enforcement of closing times.

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G 8:800

G 8:820

won again that soldier: Hiberno-English, won against that soldier. Portobello barracks: housed the South Dublin Division of the Dublin Military District. kipper: young person. county Carlow: county south of Dublin. Whose smile upon […] such replete: from “In Happy Moments Day by Day,” from the 1845 opera Maritana, music by William Vincent Wallace (1814–65), libretto by Edward Fitzball (1792–1873). Too much

fat on the parsnips: excessively flattering. logwood: astringent used in medicines; expression, following its use to color adulterated wine. Vintners’ sweepstakes: race owned by pub owners, giving them an advantage in betting. seven to one against Saint Amant a fortnight before: Saint Amant, a colt owned by M. Leopold de Rothschild, won the Derby, held the night before the Coronation Cup.

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G 8:840

G 8:860

John O’Gaunt: horse in the Epsom Derby. champing: munching like a horse. Johnny Magories: HibernoEnglish, the fruit of the dog rose. Bleibtreustrasse: address of the Agendath Netaim society of planters; see 58. Fizz and Red Bank oysters: champagne and oysters from the red-bank beds in County Clare, also Burton Bindon’s Red Bank Restaurant; see 89. June has no ar no oysters: from the proverb, “never eat oysters unless there’s an R in the month.” there are people like

things high. Tainted game (G, inclusion). Jugged hare: hare stewed in wine in an earthenware vessel. First catch your hare: stock joke about the first step to cooking a hare. Chinese eating eggs […] and green again: Chinese culinary practice of preserving eggs in clay, ash, and salt. archduke Leopold […] Otto one of those Habsburgs: Ludwig II (Ludwig Otto Friedrich Wilhelm) (1845–86), king of Bavaria, died under mysterious circumstances.

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G 8:880

G 8:900

change comma to fullstop after cities

Hock in green glasses: Hochheimer wine, often served in colored glasses to avoid spoiling. Royal sturgeon: sturgeon were royal fish by an edict of Edward II. High sheriff, Coffey […] from his ex: William Coffey, butcher, victualler, of Dublin, received permission to hunt and sell venison from the high sheriff of the county. Master of the Rolls: Right Honourable Sir Andrew Marshall Porter (1837–1919), whose residence’s kitchen was visible from street level. Whitehatted chef like a rabbi: Jewish cantors wear a large cylindrical ceremonial hat. Combustible duck:

flambéd. Curly cabbage a la duchesse de Parme: savoy cabbage dish. Edward’s desiccated soup: brand of powdered soup. Geese stuffed silly for them: force-fed to produce foie gras. ptarmigan: grouse from the Scottish Highlands. Du, de, la: French, “of the.” Micky Hanlon of Moore street: M. and P. Hanlon, fishmongers and ice merchants, 20–21 Moore Street. hand over first: hand over fist (G, correction). Mooikill A Aitcha Ha: phonetic version of “Michael A H A.” kish of brogues: basket of shoes. seedcake: cake with caraway seeds.

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G 8:920

for au read an

G 8:940

Ben Howth: Beinn, Irish, “peak”; peak of the Howth peninsula. rhododendrons: woody plants, originally from Iberia, that produce large pink flowers in late spring, early summer; presumably naturalized on the Howth peninsula from the Rhododendron Gardens. library museum: National Museum, paired with the National Library, on Kildare Street. Pygmalion and Galatea: sculptor and his statue, who comes to life, in Ovid’s Metamorphoses; 1871 play by Sir William S. Gilbert. tanner lunch: six-penny lunch. Allsop:

beer manufactured by Samuel Allsopp & Son, Ltd, 30 Bachelors Walk. Nectar: the food of the gods in the Odyssey. food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food: chyle: white milky fluid formed of lymph and emulsified fats; the sequence comes from Giordano Bruno’s (1548–1600) Cause, Principle and Unity (1584). A man and ready […] to the lees: after “I cannot rest from travel: I will drink / Life to the lees,” after Tennyson’s “Ulysses” (1842). manly conscious: assertive, sovereign.

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G 8:960

G 8:980

Plovers on toast: plover, game bird; (slang) a fullbreasted woman. You can make bacon of that: You can be sure of that. the craft: the fraternity of Freemasons. Ancient free and accepted order. He’s an excellent brother. Light (G, inclusion): “Free and Accepted Masons,” the proper title of the Freemasons. Light, life and love: related

to Masonic mottos, communicating the key tenets of the fraternity. That was one of the Saint Legers of Doneraile: Elizabeth Aldworth (1693–1773), daughter of Arthur St Leger, first Viscount Doneraile, was caught witnessing a Masonic meeting and was admitted to the Lodge to ensure her secrecy. safe: sane, dependable.

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G 8:1020

Nothing in black and white: mistaken belief that Jews cannot sign legal contracts. stone ginger: nonalcoholic drink; temperance drink. How is the main drainage?: Hiberno-English, How’s it going?; also,

a reference to the Dublin Main Drainage Works; Rochford is an engineer for the city. suck whiskey off a sore leg: do anything for a drink; alcohol was used as an antiseptic. dead snip: reliable tip.

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G 8:1040

Jamesons: whiskey distilled by John Jameson & Sons, 49–50 Bow Street. Röntgen rays: X-rays, discovered by Wilhelm Konrad von Röntgen (1845–1923), German physicist; Bloom imagines that greencolored food could be traced by X-rays through the body, perhaps because of its contrasting color. Don Giovanni, a cenar teco / M’invitastri: Italian, “Don

Giovanni, you invited me to sup with you,” from Act II of Mozart’s Don Giovanni. Dutch courage: courage brought about by drink. Kilkenny People: weekly Kilkenny newspaper. closestools: chamber pot enclosed in a chair or box. William Miller, plumber: plumber and sanitary contractor, 17 Duke Street. teco: Italian, “with you.”

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G 8:1060

G 8:1080

Two eleven. Prescott’s dyeworks van over there. If I get Billy Prescott’s ad: two fifteen (G, inclusion); see 80. On the pig’s back: Hiberno-English, well off, in luck. Brighton, Margate: English seaside resorts. Those lovely seaside girls: “Seaside Girls”; see 60. John Long’s: P. J. Long, grocer and wine merchant, 52 Dawson Street. Gray’s: Katherine Gray, confectioner, 13 Duke Street. reverend Thomas Connellan’s bookstore: Reverend Thomas Connellan, bookshop, 51b Dawson Street. Why I left the church of Rome: 1883 pamphlet by the Reverend Charles Pascal Telesphore Chiniquy (1809–

99) who converted to Presbyterianism in 1858. Bird’s Nest. Women run him: Bird’s Nest women run him (G, correction); “Bird’s Nest,” institution for impoverished children at the Protestant Missionary Society, 19–20 York Street, Kingstown (Dún Laoghaire). they used to give pauper children soup: many soup kitchens were run by Protestant groups. Society over the way […] of poor jews: The Society for Promoting Christianity among the Jews, 45 Molesworth Street. stripling: young man. Molesworth street: runs from Dawson Street to Kildare Street. Drago’s: perfumer and hairdresser; see 66.

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insert comma after food

G 8:1100

G 8:1120

Behind a bull: in front of a horse: proverbial wisdom, avoid the bull’s horns and the horse’s back kick. volume. Weight or size of it, something blacker than the dark. Wonder would he feel it if something was removed (G, inclusion). Penrose!: Bloom remembers the name; see 148. Dark: Hiberno-English, blind. Smells on all sides, bunched together. Each street

different smell. Each person too (G, inclusion). Stewart institution: Stewart Institution for Imbecile Children and Hospital for Mental Diseases, 40 Molesworth Street. Postoffice: Town Sub-Post Office, Money Order and Savings Bank Office, 4 Molesworth Street. Stationer’s: E. F. Grant & Co., scriveners, typewriters, law and general stationers, 1–2 Molesworth Street.

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G 8:1140

G 8:1160

Levenston’s dancing academy piano: Mrs P. M. Levenston’s dancing academy, 35 South Frederick Street. Doran’s public house: Michael Doran’s pub, 10 Molesworth Street. All those women […] Holocaust: 1,030 people perished when the General Slocum caught fire and sank in the East River in New York City, June, 5 1904. Karma: concept that a person’s actions in one state of existence determine his fate in the next. freemason’s hall: 17–18 Molesworth Street. Solemn as Troy: Rev. John Thomas Troy (1739–1823), Catholic archbishop of Dublin. Tales of the bench […] bluecoat school: Falkiner, on

the board of governors of the school, wrote Literary Miscellanies: Tales of the Bench and Assizes (1909); assize: civil and criminal court. recorder’s court: highest court of Dublin. Sends them to the rightabout: forces them to retreat. strawcalling: tongue-lashing; Falkiner was notoriously anti-Semitic. Mirus bazaar: Joyce moved its opening from May 31 to June 16. The Messiah was first given for that: the premiere of Handel’s Messiah, in 1742, at the Music Hall, Fishamble Street, was a benefit for Mercer’s Hospital. Ballsbridge […] Keyes: see 112. quopped: palpitated, throbbed.

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G 8:1180

Sir Thomas Deane designed: Irish architects Sir Thomas Newenham Deane (1828–99) and his son Sir Thomas Manly Deane (1851–1933) designed the paired buildings of the National Library and

Museum. Sir Thomas Deane was the Greek architecture: Bloom’s thoughts are becoming scrambled here; the Deanes adopted a Palladian style for the buildings.

9 · “SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS” Matthew Creasy

14 The National Library

The ninth episode of Ulysses takes place at 2 p.m. in the National Library of Ireland on Kildare Street. Shortly after the publication of Joyce’s novel in 1922, the Library relinquished book storage space in neighboring Leinster House to accommodate the new parliament of the Irish Free State. Its location became absorbed into a focal point of power in Ireland. But this central space at the heart of Dublin had long been a site of political significance. In 1836, a committee led by the Conservative MP William Smith O’Brien established the

basis for a “National Library” in Ireland, open for “respectable persons of all classes.”1 But the buildings, designed by Thomas Newenham Deane for the Royal Society of Dublin and the Department of Science and Art in London, opened to the public only in 1890, and entry to this supposedly national institution was not

1  Gerard Long, The National Library in 1904 and Thereabouts (Dublin: National Library of Ireland, 2005), 1.

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9 The National Library and the National Museum, Kildare Street

278 · Matthew Creasy

readily available to all.2 As Joseph O’Brien notes, readers required access by introduction or “on the recommendation of a property holder.”3 It was maintained by a committee headed by prominent Protestant, Anglo-Irish figures, such as Ireland’s Chief Justice, the Astronomer Royal and Professor Edward Dowden of Trinity College, but the National Library was also popular with Catholic students from the Royal University, including Joyce himself and his fictional counterpart, Stephen Dedalus. At the time of Ulysses’ setting in 1904, John Nash identifies it as a “shared but contested space,” where the tensions of colonial rule could be traced.4 Within this fraught, politically sensitive site we discover Stephen delivering a version of the theory of Shakespeare promised to Haines and mocked by Buck Mulligan in the first episode of the novel (“He proves by algebra that Hamlet’s grandson is Shakespeare’s grandfather and that he himself is the ghost of his own father” [18; 1:555–57]). Haines has left the scene to pick up a copy of some Gaelic poetry by Douglas Hyde (178; 9:91–95). Stephen is cloistered off the main reading room in the office of the head librarian, Thomas Lyster, who is just one of the historical figures from Dublin’s literary scene in this chapter. In addition to Lyster and his assistant director, Richard Best, are found assistant librarian William Kirkpatrick McGee, who published influential essays and criticism on Irish literary topics under the name “John Eglinton,” and the writer and editor George Russell, who published poetry, editorials, and literary criticism as “A.E.” Stephen has dropped by the library after drinking in the pub with the journalists from the “Aeolus” episode. Ostensibly, he is there to pass on a letter from his employer, Mr Deasy, about Foot and Mouth disease in cattle (entrusted to him in episode 2) and secure its publication in the Irish Homestead (185; 9:317).

2  Long, National Library, 5. 3  Joseph O’Brien, Dear Dirty Dublin: A City in Distress 1899–1916 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982), 57. 4  John Nash, James Joyce and the Act of Reception (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 91.

Stephen, however, is also aware of an ambitious literary gathering to be held at the house of the writer George Moore (“Shall we see you at Moore’s tonight?” [184; 9:273–74]). Since Russell plans to publish a volume of “our younger poets’ verses” (184; 9:291), Stephen may hope to demonstrate his own literary prowess, and impress these figures from the Irish Literary Revival with his views of Shakespeare, winning a space for himself amongst “[o]ur young Irish bards” (177; 9:43). (Historically, Russell was instrumental in publishing Joyce’s short stories in the Irish Homestead.) If so, his approach looks misjudged, since much of the conversation is antagonistic and Stephen is pointedly omitted from any invitation to join the evening’s gathering. It is in this context that the “contested” space of the National Library proves highly apt to Stephen’s situation and the broader relevance of this chapter to the concerns of Ulysses as a whole. “Scylla and Charybdis” is not only set in the center of Dublin; as the ninth of eighteen episodes it stands numerically at the center of Ulysses. Michael Groden notes that Joyce wrote “End of First Part of ‘Ulysses’” on the last page of a manuscript copy of this chapter, recording the date “New Year’s Eve 1918,” “as if to indicate that one phase of Ulysses was ending and something new was about to begin.”5 This is reflected in the narrative rhythms of Ulysses: “Scylla and Charybdis” is preceded by chapters that tend to focus on the experience of individuals, such as Leopold Bloom’s lonesome ­attempts to find lunch in the “Lestrygonians” episode, which comes immediately before it. It is followed by “Wandering Rocks,” which moves around the city and across the perspectives of a wide variety of characters, as Ulysses opens up to a broader social spectrum of experiences. For Groden, this positioning also reflects a shift in Joyce’s stylistic approach. Prior to this point, he notes, Joyce had largely employed an “initial style” that mixed traditional “third-person past tense narration” with “first p ­erson, presenttense monologue.”6 Subsequent c­ hapters, such

5  Michael Groden, “Ulysses” in Progress (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1972), 17. 6  Ibid.

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as “Circe” and “Ithaca,” abandon this initial style in favor of more experimental forms, including closet drama and catechism, testing the limits of the modernist novel. In accordance with its central position in Ulysses, “Scylla and Charybdis” lies somewhere between these two approaches. It focuses upon Stephen, giving extraordinary prominence to his spoken words: nearly 40 percent of “Scylla and Charybdis” (around 4,700 words) consists of his dialogue, as Stephen unfolds his theory of Shakespeare. Here is his account of the opening of Hamlet: – The play begins. A player comes on under the shadow, made up in the castoff mail of a court buck, a wellset man with a bass voice. It is the ghost, the king, a king and no king, and the player is Shakespeare who has studied Hamlet all the years of his life which were not vanity in order to play the part of the spectre. He speaks the words to Burbage, the young player who stands before him beyond the rack of cerecloth, calling him by a name: Hamlet, I am thy father’s spirit, bidding him list. To a son he speaks, the son of his soul, the prince, young Hamlet and to the son of his body, Hamnet Shakespeare, who has died in Stratford that his namesake may live for ever. (181; 9:164–73)

This description of Shakespeare’s performance is in itself a kind of public performance that characterizes his approach throughout the chapter. Stephen dramatizes the circumstances at the Globe Theatre, then quotes directly from the play (“I am thy father’s spirit”) as well as paraphrasing it (“bidding him list”). This allows Stephen to intone words from Hamlet, whilst advancing his own argument. But he also incorporates material from other parts of the play (the First Player refers to standing clouds as the “rack” (ii.ii.484) in his description of Priam’s death) and in other parts of Shakespeare.7 Some of what sounds 7  References to the works of William Shakespeare are given in the text, using The Riverside Shakespeare, ed. G. Blakemore Evans et al. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1974).

Shakespearean here is, in fact, drawn from other sources. “A king and no king” is the title of a tragi-comedy by Shakespeare’s near contemporaries, John Fletcher and Francis Beaumont; whilst the phrase “All the years of his life which were no vanity” alludes to the Old Testament Book of Ecclesiastes. The result is a patchwork of quotation designed to appeal to the literary sensibilities of his audience. Elsewhere in “Scylla and Charybdis,” however, Joyce breaks with convention to incorporate formal experiment: two abrupt passages adopt the form of a play script (194–95, 200–1; 9:684–707, 893–934) and at one point a snatch of music is represented in the form of a partial score (189; 9:500). These departures reflect both the subject matter (Shakespeare’s plays) and the public nature of the occasion, dramatizing a sense of debate and discussion amongst those present. But Stephen’s private thoughts, conveyed through the interior monologue aspect of the “initial style” are also vital to our understanding of the chapter and the way that he responds to confrontation. Consider his reaction when John Eglinton accuses Stephen of drawing on more obscure parts of Shakespeare’s oeuvre, such as the late play Pericles: – The leaning of sophists towards the bypaths of apocrypha is a constant quantity, John Eglinton detected. The highroads are dreary but they lead to the town. Good Bacon: gone musty. Shakespeare Bacon’s wild oats. Cypherjugglers going the highroads. Seekers on the great quest. What town, good masters? Mummed in names: A. E, eon: Magee, John Eglinton. East of the sun, west of the moon: Tir na n-og. Booted the twain and staved. How many miles to Dublin? Three score and ten, sir. Will we be there by candlelight? – Mr Brandes accepts it, Stephen said, as the first play of the closing period. (187; 9:407–18)

Outwardly, Stephen replies to Eglinton’s objections that his argument treads “the bypaths of apocrypha” by citing the authority of the Danish critic Georg Brandes. Inwardly, he

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mocks the adoption of pretentious pseudonyms by Russell (A. E.) and Magee (Eglinton) as symptomatic of their own obscure predilection for mysticism and theosophy. As Richard Brown points out, the allusion to “Bacon” is a “lightning-quick association,” one that “comically condenses and subtly mocks Eglinton’s comment” and “apparently identifies it as a half-quotation of one or other example of the ‘distempers’ of learning from Francis Bacon’s Advancement of Learning (1605).”8 But this is a silent performance. Indeed, tensions between what Stephen thinks and what he says out loud serve to heighten our sense that the public version of Stephen’s theory of Shakespeare is informed by a highly acute sensitivity to his own position and the circumstances in which he is speaking. The form of “Scylla and Charybdis” both captures and encapsulates his entrenched position at this key juncture in Joyce’s novel. The public character of Stephen’s speeches in “Scylla and Charybdis” owes something to the chapter’s origins in a set of twelve lectures delivered by Joyce for the Società di Minerva in Trieste from November 1912 to February 1913.9 Surviving notes confirm that Joyce used many of the same historical and critical sources for his lecture that inform the discussion in “Scylla and Charybdis.”10 Such biographical connections are important, because links between art and life are part of this chapter’s ­subject matter. Shakespeare’s plays, Stephen argues, were intimately associated with his lived experiences. Hamlet, he suggests, epitomizes the playwright’s feelings about fatherhood and marriage, but not because of any conventional link between the introspection of Hamlet and his creator. Drawing on slender evidence from Nicholas Rowe, one of Shakespeare’s earliest biographers, Stephen recreates the playwright’s 8  Richard Brown, “Joyce’s ‘Single Act’ Shakespeare,” in Joyce / Shakespeare, ed. Laura Pelaschiar (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2015), 107–27, at 114. 9  John McCourt, The Years of Bloom: James Joyce in Trieste 1904–1920 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2000), 190–92. 10  William Quillian, Hamlet and the New Poetic: James Joyce and T. S. Eliot (Ann Arbor, MI: UMI Research Press, 1983).

supposed performance as the Ghost of Hamlet’s father because he conceives of that role’s particular psychological importance.11 Acting this part, Stephen suggests, allowed Shakespeare to connect imaginatively with his own lost son, Hamnet, who died aged eleven. But he goes further, arguing that Shakespeare also shares a sense of sexual betrayal with Hamlet’s father. Stephen traces a motif of shame and humiliation across Shakespeare’s plays and claims this reflects the playwright’s problematic relationship with the older, more sexually experienced woman he married, Anne Hathaway. Beyond the plays, Stephen’s historical evidence here is that upon his death Shakespeare left his wife his “secondbest” bed (195; 9:714). The culmination of the lecture is interrupted by the return of Buck Mulligan. But in a final sequence Stephen identifies a culprit, arguing that Shakespeare’s habit of naming his villains “Richard” reveals that Anne cheated on him with his own brother. Joyce’s critics have never set much store by the outward content of Stephen’s theory. Perhaps this is because of the rapid way in which he disavows it himself: Do you believe your own theory? – No, Stephen said promptly. (205; 9:1065–67)

Instead, critical accounts of “Scylla and Charybdis” have sought significance in symbolic patterns of oppositions in Stephen’s pronouncements. In an early influential reading of the chapter, S. L. Goldberg argues that the episode should be understood in terms of the contrast between the opposing philosophies of Plato and Aristotle, suggesting that this is personified in conflicts amongst Joyce’s characters. Goldberg identifies George Russell as “the Platonic Charybdis of the chapter to the Aristotelianism and Scholasticism of Stephen.”12 This might account for the wealth of local detail about Shakespeare’s life that Stephen

11  Joyce probably found Rowe’s account in a study by Sidney Lee from 1898; see Quillian, Hamlet, 14. 12  S. L. Goldberg, The Classical Temper: A Study of James Joyce’s “Ulysses” (London: Chatto & Windus, 1961), 68.

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supplies: we learn so much about where and how Shakespeare lived because Aristotle’s theory of “entelechy” holds that the soul’s potential is realized within the sensuous world and the “particulars of experience.”13 In contrast, Goldberg suggests that Russell is resistant to biographical enquiry, objecting to “this prying into the family life” (181; 9:181) of Shakespeare, because he thinks in terms of “formless spiritual essences,” echoing Plato.14 For Goldberg, Stephen’s theory does not just concern Shakespeare, it serves as a broader theory about selfhood and artistic creativity. Hence Stephen’s public pronouncements about self and continuity (“we walk through ourselves […] always meeting ourselves” [204; 9:1044–46]), as well as his private joke about whether his present self owes the debt incurred by his past self: But I, entelechy, form of forms, am I by memory because under everchanging forms. I that sinned and prayed and fasted. A child Conmee saved from pandies. I, I and I. I. A. E. I. O. U. (182; 9:208–13)

Goldberg compares this to Stephen’s previous discussion of the artist’s self in relation to epic, lyric, and dramatic forms in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1914). He identifies Stephen’s concern with scholastic theories of knowledge derived from Thomas Aquinas’s reading of Aristotle as a common starting point between “Scylla and Charybdis” and A Portrait. But Stephen’s disagreements with Russell and Eglinton sharpen the discussion in Ulysses for Goldberg, providing a stronger sense of artistic objectivity and greater consciousness of his own immaturity than Stephen has achieved previously. Richard Ellmann’s reading of the chapter in Ulysses on the Liffey claims that these arguments about art and the self are embodied within the text of Ulysses. For Ellmann, Stephen is concerned with Shakespeare’s treatment of the mysteries of fatherhood and biological

s­uccession because artistic creation is cognate with “natural creation.”15 Thus “Scylla and Charybdis” is central to Ulysses, because it also accounts for the novel’s own creation. This can be seen in the way that Stephen’s theories resonate beyond his own experience and awareness. For example, Leopold Bloom is the first character in Ulysses to quote the lines spoken by the Ghost of Hamlet’s father (146; 8:67), which feature again in the scene that Stephen later performs at the National Library. Curiously, both men mistake this scene, adding Hamlet’s name to the beginning of the Ghost’s line, which reads simply “I am thy father’s spirit” in Shakespeare’s original. Like Hamlet, both Bloom and Stephen are dressed in black, and Shakespeare’s play provides an unwitting point of connection between the two men. The loss of a son and a sexually unfaithful wife in Hamlet also evoke the personal and marital life of Bloom, whose son Rudy died in early infancy and whose wife, Molly, will consummate her affair with her tour manager, Blazes Boylan, later that afternoon. Stephen’s preoccupations with fatherhood and betrayal in Shakespeare reflect anxieties and concerns in his own life about his relationship with his father and vexed friendships amongst his literary peers. But they speak unwittingly to the broader concerns of Joyce’s novel, which holds out the possibility that Bloom might provide a spiritual father to Stephen. The ideas discussed in “Scylla and Charybdis” may originate in Joyce’s lectures on Shakespeare, but new patterns of meaning emerge from their fictional contexts in Ulysses. In his reading of the episode, Goldberg depends on what Brown describes as a “neat structural opposition between the whirling Charybdis of Platonic idealism and the rocklike Scylla of Aristotelian fact.”16 In Book 12 of the Odyssey, the enchantress Circe warns Odysseus about various challenges he faces on the return to Ithaca, his home island. She explains that Odysseus has a choice of routes: he can risk the wandering rocks, a treacherous

13  Goldberg, Classical Temper, 70.

15  Richard Ellmann, Ulysses on the Liffey (London: Faber, 1972), 86.

14  Goldberg, Classical Temper, 71–72.

16  Brown, “Joyce’s ‘Single Act’ Shakespeare,” 113.

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stretch of sea that only Jason and his argonauts have ever passed through and lived, or he can try to negotiate the passage between Scylla, a six-headed monster living along a cliff face on one side of a strait, and Charybdis, a dark vortex on the other. Odysseus decides to lose six men to Scylla rather than face total destruction of his ship and crew, but his predicament has become proverbial for a dilemma in which neither outcome is desirable. Joyce furthered the understanding of his novel in terms of this Homeric story by supplying a schematic account to the critic Stuart Gilbert, which identifies the “technic” of “Scylla and Charybdis” as “dialectic,” and by providing a list of opposing symbolic terms “London and Stratford, Scholasticism and Mysticism, Plato and Aristotle, youth and maturity” to his friend the Italian journalist Carlo Linati.17 Such hints prompted Goldberg’s reading and Charles Peake’s announcement that “everything” in the chapter “demands a pair of contrasting symbols to represent the two extremes between which Stephen must plot his course.”18 This patterning registers within the conflict between Stephen and his interlocutors, but also at a close, linguistic level: early on in the chapter, Stephen figures himself as “Between the Saxon smile and yankee yawp. The devil and the deep sea” (180; 9:139–40) and being caught “between” opposing elements becomes a recurring motif throughout “Scylla and Charybdis.” In London, Shakespeare ­dallies “between c­ onjugial love and its chaste delights and scortatory love and its foul pleasures” (193; 9:631–32) and Christ is figured as “He Who Himself begot, middler the Holy Ghost and Himself sent Himself, Agenbuyer, between Himself and others” (189; 9:493–94). Even quotations from other authors become absorbed into this recurring in-joke, so that it can be detected retrospectively within Thomas Lyster’s allusion to Hamlet’s soliloquy at the start of the chapter: “A hesitating soul taking arms against a sea of troubles, torn by conflicting doubts, as one sees in real life” (176; 9:3–4).

As they mount up, however, such allusions have a recursive, duplicative effect that complicates reading the chapter in terms of simple opposites. For example, identifying Stephen’s Aristotelianism as the opposite pole to Russell’s Platonism, makes him part of the dilemma rather than a Homeric hero caught “between” forces. The original Italian of the schema Joyce gave to Linati is suggestive here: for it lists the “Sense” or “Meaning” (“Senso (Significato)”) of “Scylla and Charybdis” as “Dilemma Bitagliente.”19 Although Ellmann translates this as “two-edged dilemma,” Jeri Johnson points out that bitagliente means “twice cutting” so that a literal translation would read: “double cutting-edge dilemma.” “As well as being ­tautologous,” she notes, this “loses entirely the flavour of the metaphor,” which she renders idiomatically as “two-edged sword.”20 But there is a terrible irony in Homer’s Odyssey: having passed through Scylla and Charybdis, Odysseus’s ship is later wrecked by Zeus because the sailors break a prohibition upon eating flesh from cattle belonging to the Sun God. Odysseus is forced to traverse the straits between Scylla and Charybdis a second time on his own. The proverbial history of Homer’s story is complex too: as well as meaning “we must choose the lesser of two evils,” the sixteenthcentury scholar Erasmus observes, “we may use it to point out that a transaction is double-sided and dangerous” and notes that it can be used to indicate the unintended negative side-effect of trying to avoid an unwanted outcome.21 So the double-edged tautology of Joyce’s Italian formulation may be very apt to the Homeric echoes in Ulysses, reflecting the multiplication of opposing forces within the chapter. A more complex understanding of Homeric myth and its legacy allows us to move beyond the “neat” structural oppositions criticized by Brown and acknowledge the complexities of Stephen’s situation in this chapter. Consider

19  Ellmann, Ulysses on the Liffey, 190–91. 20  James Joyce, Ulysses, ed. Jeri Johnson (Oxford: Oxford World Classics, 1993), 739 n.2.

17  Ellmann, Ulysses on the Liffey, 195. 18  Charles Peake, James Joyce, the Citizen and the Artist (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1977), 162.

21  Erasmus, Adages i.i.1 to i.v.100, trans. Margaret Mann Phillips, ed. R. A. B. Mynors (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1982), 387–89.

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the preamble to his account of Shakespeare’s performance as the Ghost of Hamlet’s father: – It is this hour of a day in mid June, Stephen said, begging with a swift glance their hearing. The flag is up on the playhouse by the bankside. The bear Sackerson growls in the pit near it, Paris garden. Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the groundlings. Local colour. Work in all you know. Make them accomplices. – Shakespeare has left the huguenot’s house in Silver street and walks by the swanmews along the riverbank. But he does not stay to feed the pen chivying her game of cygnets towards the rushes. The swan of Avon has other thoughts. Composition of place. Ignatius Loyola, make haste to help me! (180; 9:154–63)

Once more, a characteristic pattern of allusions to Shakespeare is carefully woven into Stephen’s speech: “canvasclimbers” is lifted from Act IV of Pericles, whereas reference to “the bear Sackerson” derives from Slender’s boast in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “I have seen Sackerson loose twenty times, and have taken him by the chains” (i.i.294–96). But Stephen’s silent commentary confirms a deliberate methodology at work here: “Local colour. Work in all you know.” And his reference to “accomplices” is nicely ambiguous: he may mean the imagined figures who populate his description of London or the assembled listeners in the Librarian’s office. Such moments show Stephen caught between rehearsing pre-prepared material and extemporizing as he seeks to follow through his own line of argument and respond to the vicissitudes of his audience. The phrase “composition of place” has another particular resonance. It confirms Stephen’s acute sensitivity to the defining importance of space in this chapter, but it is also filled with mixed associations, since it derives from the Spiritual Exercises of the sixteenthcentury Jesuit priest and theologian, Saint Ignatius of Loyola (also invoked here). For Loyola, the mind “composes” itself to religious meditation by various techniques including

mental contemplation of a particular space. But Stephen recalls the phrase as it is used in the Hellfire sermon in chapter 3 of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, in which Father Arnall comments: This morning we endeavoured, in our reflection upon hell, to make what our holy founder calls in his book of spiritual exercises, the composition of place. We endeavoured, that is, to imagine with the senses of the mind, in our imagination, the material character of that awful place and of the physical torments which all who are in hell endure. (P 107)

Allusion to Loyola is thus also an allusion to Stephen’s earlier experience. The implication is that he perceives a sudden parallel between Arnall’s attempt to manipulate the thoughts and feelings of his young schoolboy audience and Stephen’s own attempt to make accomplices of his audience in the National Library. At such points it becomes clear that whilst Stephen Dedalus is acutely aware of his audience in the present moment within the National Library, he is also, as he says of the Ghost of Hamlet’s father, “turned elsewhere, backward” (189; 9:472). This sequence enacts Stephen’s point about “entelechy” quoted earlier: it demonstrates the way that a sense of continuous identity depends on the persistence of “memory” through “everchanging forms,” but it also questions that continuity. Stephen’s selfpresence is riven by multiple demands on his consciousness from the present and the past. He is always “between” or amongst different selves. Against this complex understanding of selfhood and art, more recent accounts of Ulysses tend to emphasize the complicated literary politics of “Scylla and Charybdis.” Stephen’s verbal picture of Shakespeare’s progress through the streets of London (including historical details about the bear garden next to the Globe Theatre), owes a lot to the Danish critic, Georg Brandes,22 but Stephen also draws ­heavily on 22  George [sic] Brandes, William Shakespeare: A Critical Study, trans. William Archer, Mary Morison, and Diana White (London: William Heinemann, 1898), vol. i, 120–21.

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Frank Harris’s The Man Shakespeare and His Tragic Life Story (1909) and Sir Sidney Lee’s A Life of William Shakespeare (1898). Historicist criticism by Andrew Gibson and Len Platt stresses the relationship between such contemporary Shakespeare scholarship and the social and cultural contexts of Irish national politics at the close of the nineteenth century. Where Goldberg saw the personification of abstract, philosophical positions in this chapter, Platt argues that Eglinton and Russell are present as representatives of the largely Protestant AngloIrish Literary Revival. This is, he suggests, problematic for Stephen because of his Irish Catholic background, which aligns more closely with Irish Nationalism: “Stephen’s Shakespeare theory,” he urges, “defines itself against revivalist aesthetics and cannot be understood without reference to revivalist aesthetics.”23 On this reading, when Stephen insists on locating Shakespeare and his plays within the material circumstances of his lived experiences, he is not just rejecting Platonic forms; Stephen’s version of Shakespeare (“He was a rich country gentleman […] a capitalist shareholder, a bill promoter, a tithefarmer” [195; 9:710–12]) offers a ­rebuke to the supposedly immaterial spiritualism of A. E. and the insufficiently radical p ­ olitics of the Revival movement more generally. In comparison, Gibson suggests Eglinton and Lyster are present in “Scylla and Charybdis” as disciples of Edward Dowden, Professor of English Literature at Trinity College, Dublin, Head of the National Library’s council of trustees and author of Shakspere: A Critical Study of his Mind and Art (1875). For Gibson, this biographical study comes to epitomize Dowden’s Unionist politics and dismissal of native Irish literature. In contrast with the dreamy Celticism of the Literary Revival, “Dowden’s account of Shakespeare,” Gibson explains, “is quite blatantly political”: it celebrates the playwright as a “Benthamite,” who exemplifies conservative, materialist, British Imperialist values.24 It is Unionism and the Anglo-Irish

Revival that figure here as the perilous Scylla and Charybdis Stephen must negotiate. He does this, Gibson suggests, by adopting Dowden’s emphasis on Shakespeare’s “sense of property” (196; 9:741) and pushing it to extremes: Not for nothing was he a butcher’s son, wielding the sledded poleaxe and spitting in his palms. Nine lives are taken off for his father’s one. Our Father who art in purgatory. Khaki Hamlets don’t hesitate to shoot. The bloodboltered shambles in act five is a forecast of the concentration camp sung by Mr Swinburne. (180; 9:130–35)

Stephen’s characteristic weave of Shakespearean allusions to Macbeth (“blood-boltered” [iv.i.122]) and Hamlet (“sledded poleaxe” [i.i.62–63]) intersects here with reference to the poet Algernon Swinburne’s jingoistic celebration of maltreated Boer prisoners in a poem from 1901. This is a “Fenian” account of Shakespeare as the epitome of the worst excesses of British Imperialism.25 Likewise, Stephen’s insistence on Shakespeare’s sexual jealousy and its importance to his art, Gibson suggests, is intended to counteract the supposed proprieties of Dowden’s account, mocked by Buck Mulligan late in the chapter (“All we can say is that life ran very high in those days” [196; 9:733]). Richard Brown concurs with such political readings, suggesting that Stephen transforms Shakespeare from “a symbol of cultural conformity” into “an aesthetic tool that Joyce can deploy against cultural ‘docility’ in some important symbolic way.”26 These critics agree that Stephen’s reading of the plays is less important here than his biographical account of Shakespeare and the values he represents. Their accounts of how Stephen makes use of recent Shakespeare criticism help us understand more fully some of the ways that “Scylla and Charybdis” (and Ulysses more widely) is 25  Gibson, Joyce’s Revenge, 65.

23  Len Platt, Joyce and the Anglo-Irish: A Study of Joyce and the Literary Revival (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1998), 174. 24  Andrew Gibson, Joyce’s Revenge: History, Politics and Aesthetics in “Ulysses” (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 63–64.

26  Richard Brown, “‘Shakespeare Explained’: James Joyce’s Shakespeare from Victorian Burlesque to Postmodern Bard,” in Shakespeare and Ireland: History, Politics, Culture, ed. Mark Thornton Burnett and Ramona Wray (London: Macmillan, 1997), 91–113, at 97.

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e­ ngaged in contemporary debate about the future of Irish literature. The work of Gibson, Platt, Brown, and others on the political resonance of the Shakespeare discussion in “Scylla and Charybdis” is highly useful for drawing out undercurrents and tensions that may be sensed within the chapter, but which are not always explicit. They help explain why Stephen’s first words are “sneered” at Thomas Lyster’s seemingly inoffensive and bland reference to Goethe (176; 9:10–11). The American critic Harold Bloom saw in such nervous tensions evidence of an anxiety on Joyce’s part about his own literary status in comparison to Shakespeare.27 Stephen’s constant adaptation of Shakespeare’s words might be understood as a form of “Celtic Revenge,” a term later applied by John Eglinton to Joyce in 1935 and adopted by Gibson. When he quotes and misquotes Shakespeare, Stephen repeats and transforms the English playwright’s work for his own purposes. But Gibson is clear that 27  Harold Bloom, “Joyce’s Agon with Shakespeare,” in The Western Canon (New York: Macmillan, 1994), 413–32, at 414.

“Scylla and Charybdis” celebrates “the beauty of Shakespeare’s language” too.28 Shakespeare’s example offers both Stephen and Joyce an opportunity to explore the vexed question of “our national epic” in Ireland (187; 9:309). One obvious solution is that Ulysses itself realizes this ambition, but in a form that none of Joyce’s characters and few of his contemporaries could imagine. Much of this depends upon Leopold Bloom – a figure only peripheral to “Scylla and Charybdis.” The very unlikeliness of Bloom (cuckold, grieving father) as the hero of an epic work of national literature may be what most aptly fits him to the role. His kindness, tolerance, and unorthodox ethics provide an alternative to the embittered tensions between the literary personalities in “Scylla and Charybdis.” Barely glimpsed at the close of the chapter, he passes out “between” Stephen and Buck Mulligan, as they leave the fraught arena of the National Library (209; 9:1202–3). But Bloom and Stephen will get a chance to redeem this missed encounter much later in the day, in the second half of Joyce’s novel. 28  Gibson, Joyce’s Revenge, 79.

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librarian: Thomas W. Lyster. Wilhelm Meister: Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship and Travels (1796) by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832). hesitating soul taking arms: Lyster discusses Wilhelm’s response to Hamlet’s indecision, referring to his soliloquy, (iii.i.57–60). sinkapace forward on neatsleather: “sink-a-pace” dance from Twelfth Night (i.iii.139), dance of five paces, from cinque pace, French; neat’s leather, leather made from cowhide. The beautiful ineffectual dreamer: “beautiful ineffectual,” from

Matthew Arnold’s essay “Shelley,” in Essays on Criticism. corantoed: coranto, a dance of the Elizabethan period. Monsieur de la Palice […]: a lapalissade is a comic truism, named after the epigraph of Jacques de Chabannes, Lord of la Palice (1470–1525), “S’il n’était mort il ferait encore envie,” (If he weren’t dead, he would still inspire envy), which easily sounds like, “If he weren’t dead, he’d still be alive.” medicals: medical students. The Sorrows of Satan: novel by Marie Corelli (Mary MacKay) (1855–1924).

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The shining seven: from Yeats’s “A Cradle Song” (1895), about the planets, as counted by the Greeks. rufous: brownish-red. ollav: Ancient Irish, a sage. sizar’s: scholarship student. Orchestral Satan […] weep: from Milton’s Paradise Lost; rood, unit of measurement of land and wine, or a crucifix. Ed egli aveva del cul fatto trombetta: Italian, “And of his arse he made a trumpet,” Dante’s Inferno (xxi.139). Cranly’s eleven true Wicklowmen: J. F. Byrne declared that Ireland could be saved by twelve true Wicklowmen. Gaptoothed Kathleen: mockery of Yeats’s play Cathleen Ni Houlihan (1902). ave rabbi: Latin, “Hail

teacher”; from Matthew 23:8. Tinahely: town in County Wicklow. In the shadow of the glen: J. M. Synge’s 1903 play. I admire […] idolatry: from Ben Johnson’s (1572–1637) Timber; or, Discoveries Made Upon Men and Matter (1620). historicity of Jesus: Jesus’s life became a focus of nineteenth-century theological discussion. formless spiritual essence: favorite phrase of A. E. Gustave Moreau: (1826–98) French symbolist painter. Plato’s world of ideas: Plato argues for a realm of unchanging essences (or Forms) existing outside of space and time. some yankee interviewer: Weygandt; see 135.

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for en read an

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Father, Word and Holy Breath: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Allfather: Theosophical name for Christ. the heavenly man: Adam-Kadmon, the primordial man. Hiesos Kristos: Greek, “Jesus Christ.” I am […] butter: from the Bhagavad Gita. Dunlop: Daniel Nicol Dunlop, editor of the Irish Theosophist (1896–1915). Judge: William Quan Judge (1851–96), Irish-American co-founder of the Theosophical Society. noblest Roman of them all: Julius Caesar (v.v.68). Arval: ruling body of the Theosophists. K. H.: Koot Hoomi, Blavatsky’s spiritual master. the bridesister: Sophia, taken by Christ to heaven according to theosophists.

plane of buddhi: realm of blissful interconnection. O. P.: ordinary person. Mrs Cooper Oakley: Isabel Cooper-Oakley, London businesswoman; friend of Blavatsky. H. P. B.’s elemental: Blavatsky’s “lowest” dimension of being, her body. O fie! Out on’t: Hamlet (i.ii.135), (ii.ii.617). Pfuiteufel!: German, Pfui, “for shame”; Teufel, “devil.” banished me from his commonwealth: Plato bans poets from his ideal republic. Horseness is the whatnesss of allhorse: Aristotle understands essence as embodied, in contrast to Plato’s spiritual essences. peripatetic: Aristotle’s school featured walkways, peripatoi.

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Bound thee […] unlovely English: from Hyde’s poem to illustrate a bardic form in The Story of Early Gaelic Literature (1894). Penitent thief: Luke 24:42. An emerald set […] the sea: from “Cuisle Mo Chroidhe” (Pulse of My Heart), by John Philpot Curran (1750–1817). auric egg: Theosophy, where sentient life begins. a peasant’s heart on the hillside: from A. E.’s essay “Nationality and Imperialism.” Mallarmé: Stéphane Mallarmé (1842–98), French symbolist poet. poor of heart: after Matthew 5:3. Homer’s Phæacians: from the Odyssey. Stephen MacKenna: (1872–1934) journalist and intellectual;

translated Plotinus. The one about Hamlet: from Mallarmé’s “Hamlet et Fortinbras” (1886). il se proméne […] de lui-même: French, “he wanders, reading the book of himself”; from “Hamlet et Fortinbras.” HAMLET ou LE DISTRAIT: French, “Hamlet, or the Distracted One,” French production of Hamlet. Pièce de Shakespeare: French, “play by Shakespeare.” absentminded beggar: 1899 Boer War poem by Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936), set to music by Sir Arthur Sullivan. Sumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder: from “Hamlet et Fortinbras.”

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Robert Greene: (c.1558–92) playwright and novelist, referred to lust as “the deathsman of the soule.” a butcher’s son: John Aubrey (1629–97), English antiquarian, claimed Shakespeare’s father was a butcher. wielding the sledded poleaxe: from Hamlet (i.i.63). Nine lives: Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, Gertrude, Laertes, Claudius, Hamlet, and Fortinbras. don’t hesitate to shoot: attitude associated with the British. concentration camp sung by Mr Swinburne: his sonnet “On the Death of Colonel Benson” (1901) attempted to justify their use in Africa. Whelps and dams […] we had spared […]: from

Swinburne’s sonnet. Like the fat boy in Pickwick: “I wants to make your flesh creep,” from Dickens’s Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club (1836–37). limbo patrum: Latin, “limbo of the fathers.” Paris garden: bear garden on the Bankside. Drake: Sir Francis Drake (c.1540–96), English sailor and politician. groundlings: spectators in the pit. swan of Avon: Shakespeare, according to Ben Jonson in “To the Memory of William Shakespeare,” from the First Folios (1623). Composition of place: from Spiritual Exercises (1548) by Ignatius Loyola. make haste to help me!: from Psalm 38:22.

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wellset man with a bass voice: description of Shakespeare from The Man Shakespeare and His Tragic Life-Story by Frank Harris. a king and no king: 1611 tragicomedy by Francis Beaumont (1584–1616) and John Fletcher (1579–1625). player is Shakespeare: according to the English writer Nicholas Rowe (1674–1718). all the years […] not vanity: echoing Ecclesiastes 11:10. Burbage: Richard Burbage. Hamlet, I am thy father’s spirit: (i.v.9). Hamnet Shakespeare: Shakespeare’s only son, died at age eleven. in the vesture of buried Denmark: from Hamlet (i.i.48–49).

your mother is the guilty queen: Queen Gertrude marries Claudius, who murdered the King. Ann Shakespeare, born Hathaway: (c.1556–1623) married Shakespeare in 1582. truepenny: “a trusty person,” (Hamlet, i.v.150). As for living […] Villiers de l’Isle has said: from the play Axel, by Villiers de l’Isle Adam (1838–89) French poet and playwright. Flow over them […] Mananaan MacLir: from A. E.’s verse play Deirdre (1902); Mananaan MacLir, the sea god; see 38. sirrah: contemptuous form of address. noble: English gold coin. Agenbite of inwit: remorse of conscience; see 16.

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He’s from beyant […] northeast corner: beyant, “beyond”; Ulster is in the northeast of Ireland; the Boyne, site of William III’s victory over James II in 1690. Buzz. Buzz.: stale news (Hamlet, ii.ii.421). entelechy: Aristotle’s term for the actualization of potentiality. I that sinned and prayed and fasted: Stephen, in A Portrait. A child that Commee saved from pandies: pandy, stroke on the palm of the hand with a ruler, or rod, given as punishment; from chapter 1 of A Portrait. carping: fault-finding, censorious. She

died, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she was born: Anne Hathaway. The sheeted mirror: mirrors were covered with sheets in death chambers. Liliata rutilantium: prayer for the dying; see 10. tangled glowworm of his lamp: from “The Young May Moon,” by Thomas Moore. Xanthippe: Socrates’ wife, laments his imminent death in Plato’s Phaedo; however, Xenophon’s Symposium (360 bce) determined her subsequent reputation, as Xenophon’s Socrates declares that he chose Xanthippe for her difficult nature.

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from his mother: Socrates’ mother Phaenareté was a midwife. Myrto: another of Socrates’ wives. (absit nomen!): Latin, “let the name be absent.” Socratididion’s: diminutive of Socrates. Epipsychidion: Greek, “the soul out of my soul.” caudlelectures: caudle, “to talk over.” archons: “chief magistrate”; a body of archons condemned Socrates to death for his corruption of the youth. lollard: follower of John Wycliffe (c.1328–84), religious

reformer. costard: apple. groatsworth: trivial amount. Romeville: London. The Girl I left behind me: popular Irish ballad. If the earthquake did not time it: the first of several references in this ballad to Shakespeare’s narrative poem Venus and Adonis. light-of-love: woman inconstant in love. passionate pilgrim: 1599 book of poems allegedly authored by Shakespeare. doxy: mistress. he left her and gained the world of men: from “Meeting At Night; Parting at Morning” (1845)

by Robert Browning. his boywomen: Elizabethan actors playing female roles. put the comether on him: Hiberno-English, charmed him, put him under a spell. sweet and twentysix: Anne Hathaway was twenty-six, Shakespeare eighteen, when they married. greyeyed goddess: Homeric epithet for Athena. stooping to conquer: after She Stoops to Conquer (1773), by Oliver Goldsmith (1728–74), playwright, novelist, and poet. tumbles: euphemism for sexual intercourse.

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our meeting: Hermetic Society. Isis Unveiled: Blavatsky’s key work. Pali: the first language, according to Blavatsky. umbrel umbershoot: umbrella. Aztec logos: Blavatsky saw Aztec, Babylonians and Egyptian rituals as identical. mahamahatma: great, great soul. chelaship: chela, novice in esoteric Buddhism. T. Caulfield: Irwin T. Caulfield (1823–92), Irish poet. pineal glands: remnant of the third eye according to Theosophists. Hesouls, shesouls, shoal of souls: after the tongue twister “She sells sea shells by the seashore.” In quintessential […] dwelt: opening lines of “SoulPerturbating Mimicry,” by Irish poet Louis H. Victory.

Russell […] gathering together: Russell’s New Songs; a Lyric Selection (1904). caubeen: old hat. Touch lightly with two index fingers […] one or two?: from a problem of perception in pseudo-Aristotle’s Problems. Argal: corruption of ergo, Latin, “therefore.” Young Colum: Padraic Colum (1881–1972), poet, dramatist. Starkey: James Sullivan Starkey (1879– 1958), poet and editor. George Roberts: (1873–1953) writer. Longworth: Ernest Victor Longworth (1874–1935), editor of the Daily Express. Colum’s Drover: poem by Colum in A. E.’s New Songs. As in […] Grecian vase: line Yeats admired in Colum’s poem “A Portrait,” which opened New Songs.

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Miss Mitchell’s joke: Susan Mitchell’s (1866–1926) joke played on their contrasting personalities. Sigerson: George Sigerson (1838–1925), Irish physician, poet, senator. knight of the rueful countenance: Sancho Panza’s name for Don Quixote, which he adopts as his knightly order. saffron kilt: national dress adopted by early twentieth-century nationalists. O’Neill Russell: Thomas O’Neill Russell (1828–1908), Gaelic League founder and author. grand old tongue: from Eglinton’s essay “Irish Books.” Cordelia: youngest daughter of King Lear. Cordoglio: Italian, “deep sorrow.” Lir’s loneliest daughter: from Moore’s “The Song of Fionnuala,” daughter of the Irish King Lir.

Nookshotten: archaic, “pushed into a corner.” Letter to Mr Norman: Harry Felix Norman (1868–1947), editor of the Irish Homestead; Stephen promised Deasy he would try to have his letter published in the Telegraph or Irish Homestead; see 32. God ild you: God yield, or reward, you. The pigs’ paper: Irish Homestead. chopine: women’s shoe with thick cork sole. Christfox in leather trews, hiding a runaway: Stephen imagines George Fox (1624–91), founder of the Quakers, who described himself as “the man in leathern breeches,” hounded for his faith, and unmarried till forty-five. tapsters: innkeepers. Fox and geese: board game. New place: Shakespeare’s home upon retirement.

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Thot: ancient Egyptian god of learning, wisdom, and magic. In painted chambers loaded with tilebooks: from The Story of My Heart by Richard Jeffries. Others abide our question: first line of Matthew Arnold’s sonnet “Shakespeare.” Hamlet is so personal, isn’t it?: echo of Georg Brandes’s claim in his highly influential William Shakespeare: A Critical Study (1898). Ta an bad […] imo shagart: Irish, “The boat is on the land. I am a priest,” from Simple Lessons in Irish (1897) by Rev. Eugene O’Growney (1863–99). beurla: Irish, “the

English language.” littlejohn: Moore’s nickname for Eglinton. E quando vede l’uomo l’attosca: Italian, “and when [the basilik] sees a man, it poisons him,” from Li Livres dou Tresor by Brunetto Latini (c.1210–c.1295). I thank thee for the word: from Merchant of Venice (iv.i.342). mother Dana: Celtic goddess of fertility and knowledge; A. E.’s poem “Dana.” the mind […] a fading coal: from Shelley’s “A Defense of Poetry” (1821). So in the future, the sister of the past: from Flowers of Sion (1630) by William Drummond; see 187.

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Drummond of Hawthornden: William Drummond (1585–1649), Scottish poet; second laird of Hawthornden. I feel Hamlet quite young: again, following Brandes. mow: scornful grimace. Renan: Ernest Renan (1823–92), French critic and writer. The spirit of reconciliation: Harris’s view of Shakespeare’s late plays in The Man Shakespeare and His Tragic Life-Story (1909). Ulysses: character in Troilus and Cressida. Pericles: like Odysseus, survives a shipwreck. Marina: born to Pericles during the storm at sea. bypaths of apocrypha: Pericles is not wholly authored by Shakespeare. The highroads […] lead to the

town: after Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s comment that Shakespeare kept to “the regular high road of human affections.” Cypherjugglers: theory that Bacon hid clues pointing to his authorship of Shakespeare’s plays. Mummed: kept silent. East of the sun, west of the moon: (1842–45) collection of Norse folktales by Peter Christen Asbjörnsen. Tir na nóg: Irish, “land of youth,” mythical otherworld. How many miles to Dublin?: variation of the nursery rhyme “How many miles to Babylon?” Mr Sidney Lee, or Mr Simon Lazarus: Sidney Lee (1859–1926), born Solomon Lazarus Lee.

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for grand… read grandp…

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L’art d’être grand …|—Will he not see reborn in her, with the memory of his own youth added, another image?| Do you know what you are talking about? Love, yes. Word known to all men. Amor vero aliquid alicui bonum vult unde et ea quae concupiscimus …|His own image (G, controversial inclusion; see 48, 540); French, “the art of being a grandfather,” Hugo’s book of poems for children; Latin, “True love wills something good to someone whereas the things that

we want [we merely desire],” combining phrases from Aquinas’s Summa Contra Gentiles (i.29). Frank Harris: (1856–1931) writer, editor of the Saturday Review. the dark lady: Mary Fitton, according to Harris, who argued that Shakespeare sent William Herbert (1580–1630) to represent him to Fitton and she fell in love with Herbert. what ought not to have been: Shakespeare’s affection for Herbert. He thous and thees: Quakers held to these terms of address. buonaroba: Italian, “good cloth”; (Elizabethan slang) showy prostitute. bay where all men ride: from

Sonnet 137. maid of honour: Mary Fitton’s role for Elizabeth I. lord of language: from Tennyson’s “To Virgil” and Wilde’s De Profundis. coistrel: knave. Belief in himself […] killed: Harris argued Hathaway was a shrew. game of laugh and lie down: from Richard Head’s “The Art of Loving.” The tusk of the boar: from Venus and Adonis (1052). love lies ableeding: subtitle of Beaumont and Fletcher’s Philaster (1609). woman’s invisible weapon: tears, after King Lear (ii.iv.280).

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quell: slaughter; King Hamlet and King Duncan, from Macbeth, are murdered while they sleep. Lucrece’s bluecircled ivory globes: from Shakespeare’s The Rape of Lucrece (line 407). cinquespotted: having five spots. He goes back, weary of the creation he has piled up: critics debate whether Shakespeare retired fulfilled or defeated. beaver: movable guard of a helmet; from Hamlet (i.ii.229). Elsinore’s rocks or what you will, the sea’s voice: combination of the subtitle of Twelfth Night and the castle at Elsinore from Hamlet. Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?: from 1 Kings 21:20.

Entr’acte: French, “between the acts.” the gaseous vertebrate: the ghost. Was Du verlachst wirst Du noch dienen: German proverb, “what you mock, you will yet serve.” Photius: see 20. pseudomalachi: the false Malachi; see 4; Johann Most: (1846–1906) GermanAmerican publisher and anarchist. He Who Himself begot, middler the Holy Ghost, and Himself: from Deistic Pestilence (1902) by Johann Most; a spoof of the Apostles’ Creed. Agenbuyer: to buy back, to ransom. Gloria in excelsis Deo: Latin, “Glory be to God on high”; from Luke 2:14.

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He lifts his hands. Veils fall: actions of the priest and congregation during the Gloria. The chap that writes like Synge: Yeats compared Synge to Aeschylus. D. B. C.: Dublin Bread Company. I hear that an actress played Hamlet: Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Vining held that the prince was a woman: from The Mystery of Hamlet (1881), by Edward Payson Vining (1847–1920). Has no-one made […] Judge Barton: Sir Dunbar Plunket Barton (1853–1937) tried in Links Between Ireland and Shakespeare (1919). He swears […] by saint Patrick: Hamlet in (i.v.135–36). That Portrait of Mr W. H.: in “The Portrait of Mr W. H.” (1889) Wilde

theorizes that Willie Hughes, not William Herbert, was the inspiration for Shakespeare’s sonnets. Or Hughie Wills. Mr William Himself: pun on “who he wills”; W. H. is thought to be one of any number of people, including Shakespeare himself. ephebe: ephebus, youth just entering manhood. usquebaugh: uisce beatha, Irish, “water of life,” whiskey. plump: a group of people. five wits: “common sense, imagination, fantasy, estimation and memory” (Brewer). youth’s proud livery: from Sonnet 2. Lineaments of gratified desire: from “The Question Answered,” by William Blake.

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Jove, a cool ruttime send them: Falstaff, “Send me a cool rut time, Jove,” The Merry Wives of Windsor (v.v.15). Eve. Naked wheatbellied: see Stephen’s reflections on Eve on 38. A shake coils: a snake coils (G, correction). The sentimentalism is he who would enjoy […]: from The Ordeal of Richard Feverel (1859), by George Meredith (1828–1909). kips: brothel, lodging house; see 11. College Green: Post Office branch and telegraph office, 29 College Green. The Ship: where Stephen had agreed to meet Mulligan; see 6. keened: Hiberno-

English, wailed, lamented. It’s what I’m telling you, mister honey, it’s queer and sick we were: in the style of Synge’s plays. gallus: great. leching: behaving lustfully. Connery’s: W. and E. Connery, owners of the Ship Hotel. mavrone: Hiberno-English, my grief, alas. drouthy: thirsty. pussful: Hiberno-English, mouthful. tramper: tramp, vagrant. Glasthule: district in Kingstown (now Dún Laoghaire). pampooties: soft leather boots worn on the Aran islands and in Synge’s plays. hash of lights: cheap French stew.

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for Master Silence read Master William Silence

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palabras: Spanish, “words.” Oisin with Patrick: legendary poet warrior, converted by St Patrick in Yeats’s The Wanderings of Oisin (1889). Clamart: village in France. C’est vendredi saint!: French, “it is Good Friday!” I met a fool i’ the forest: from As You Like It (ii.vii.12). So Mr Justice Madden in his Diary of Master William Silence: (1897) Dodgson Hamilton Madden (1840–1928) argues Shakespeare was an aristocrat because of his knowledge of hunting and sports. galliard: quick and lively dance in triple time. broadbrim: Quaker; from the broad-brimmed hats

they wore. Guardian. Last year. 1903 … Will you please (G, inclusion). sheeny […] Ikey Moses: anti-Semitic terms. Jehovah, collector of prepuces: reference to circumcision; see 13. foamborn Aphrodite: in Hesiod’s Theogony, the severed genitals of Uranus fell into the ocean and created a foam that bore Aphrodite. Life of life, thy lips enkindle: from Shelley’s Prometheus Unbound (ii.v.48–53). pale Galilean: from “Hymn to Proserpine,” by Swinburne. mesial grove: midline of the buttocks. Venus Kallipyge: Greek, “Venus of the beautiful buttocks.”

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The god […] maiden hid: from Swinburne’s Atalanta in Calydon (1865). patient Griselda: forbearing wife in Boccaccio’s Decameron. Antisthenes: early Cynic; see 142. Kyrios Menelaus: Lord Menelaus, Helen’s husband. Hot herringpies […] ringocandies: Elizabethan sweets and delicacies. gombeen: Hiberno-English, usurer. between conjugal […] scortatory love: from the title of Delights of Wisdom (1794), by Emanuel Swedenborg; scorta, Latin, “prostitute.” lakin: ladykin, or little lady. mount and cry O: Cymbeline (ii.v.13–17). birdsnies: term of endearment, bird’s eye. Penelope Rich: possibly the “dark lady.” punks: prostitutes. Cours-la-Reine:

promenade along the Seine. Encore vingt […] Tu veux?: French, “another twenty francs. Let’s do a little something naughty. Pussy? Want some?” sir William Davenant: (1606–68) supposedly Shakespeare’s son. canary: light, sweet wine. Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock: Marguerite Marie Alacoque (1647–90). Harry of six wives’ daughter: Elizabeth I. other lady friends from neighbour seats: from Tennyson’s The Princess (1847). Do and do: from Macbeth (i.iii.10). In a rosery […] walks: Shakespeare’s friend John Gerard (1545–1612) had a garden in London. azured harebell […] Juno’s eyes, violets: Cymbeline (iv.ii.222) and The Winter’s Tale (iv.iv.120–21).

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Whom do you suspect?: punchline of a joke involving an elderly man announcing his young wife’s pregnancy. As an Englishman […] loved a lord: “An Englishman loves a lord,” proverb. Charenton: town southeast of Paris. uneared wombs: uneared, “unplowed”; from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 3 (5–6). ostler: stableman. But she, the giglot […] bedvow: giglot, “a lewd woman”; from 1 Henry VI (iv.vii.41); from Sonnet 152. no mention of her during the thirtyfour years: Shakespeare only once mentioned her, as borrowing money from a shepherd. Mary […]

Willun: Shakespeare’s mother outlived her husband, or “goodman”; Hathaway outlived Shakespeare; his sister outlived her four brothers; his youngest daughter outlived her sons; his eldest daughter, her husband. wed her second, having killed her first: from Hamlet (iii. ii.192). swansong: Shakespeare’s will. She was entitled to her widow’s dower: Shakespeare attempted to bar her from it. His legal knowledge was great: theories espoused in The Diary of Master Silence (1897), by Justice Madden, and Links between Shakespeare and the Law (1919), by Judge Barton.

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fleers: fleer, “to grin.” And therefore he […] And in London: Shakespeare left Hathaway out of the first draft of his will. Secondbest: in the final draft of his will, Shakespeare left his “second best bed” to Hathaway. Punkt: German, “point” or “full stop”; possibly a play on punk, prostitute. our peasant plays: by Yeats, Lady Gregory, Synge, and others. He was a rich […] promoter, a tithe-farmer: Shakespeare’s father obtained a coat of arms in 1599, with the help of his son; Shakespeare himself owned a lot of property,

including the largest house in Stratford at the time. Separatio a mensa et a thalamo: Latin, “separation from board and bedchamber”; legal separation, not a divorce. Antiquity mentions that Stagyrite schoolurchin and bald heathen sage: student of Plato, Aristotle was born in Stagira; was buried with his wife, Pythias, and asked that his mistress be provided for. don’t forget Nell Gwynn Herpyllis: Nell Gwynn (c.1650–87) was Charles II’s mistress; Herpyllis was Aristotle’s mistress.

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he died dead drunk: from the diary of John Ward (1629–81), rector of Stratford. A quart […] king: from The Winter’s Tale (iv.iii.8). Dowden: Edward Dowden (1843–1914), English professor at Trinity College, Dublin. William Shakespeare and company, limited: Sylvia Beach’s bookshop and imprint. charge of pederasty: based on the homoerotic tone of some sonnets. All we can […] in those days: from Dowden’s The Sonnets of William Shakespeare (1881). catamite: boy who sleeps with a man. sense of beauty leads us astray: refrain associated with Oscar Wilde. The

doctor: Sigmund Freud (1856–1939). maltjobber: jobber, a wholesaler; John Shakespeare. tod: load or weight. divers of worship […] Chettle Falstaff: from Kind-Hart’s Dreame (1592), by Henry Chettle (c.1560–c.1607). pound of flesh: from The Merchant of Venice (iii.iii.33). Lopez: Shylock was supposedly inspired by Roderigo Lopez, physician to the Queen, accused of treason. philosophaster: “pretender in philosophy”; James I (1566–1625), wrote Daemonologie (1597) and called for the trial and execution of witches. lost armada: Don Adriano de Armado, from Love’s

Labour’s Lost. Mafeking enthusiasm: extravagant celebration, after an English victory during the Boer War. Warwickshire jesuits: rebel Henry Garnet (1555–1606) of the 1605 Gunpowder Plot; referenced in Macbeth (ii.iii.10–14). Sea Venture: ship lost at sea in 1609, believed to be the inspiration for The Tempest. Patsy Caliban: after stage caricatures of Irish immigrants. fay: fairy. meinherr from Almany: gentleman from Germany. buckbasket: washing tub. Mingo, minxi, mictum, mingere: Latin conjugation of the verb to urinate.

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for Gentle will read Gentle Will

Prove that he was a jew: Shakespeare’s religion is unknown. Your dean […] holy Roman: claim by Father Joseph Darlington, SJ (1850–1939), dean of studies at University College Dublin. Sufflaminandus sum: Latin, “I ought to be stopped.” made in Germany: something cheap or without value. myriadminded man: from Coleridge’s Biographia Literaria. Amplius. In societate […] inter multos: Latin, “Further, in human society it is highly necessary that there be friendship among many.” Ora pro nobis: Latin, “pray for us.” Pogue mahone! Acushla machree!: Anglicized Irish, “Kiss my arse! My love!”

It’s destroyed […] we are surely!: from Synge’s play Riders to the Sea. new Viennese school: psychoanalysis. christian laws […] the jews: banned Jews from trades but allowed them to lend money. bound […] hoops of steel: from Hamlet (i.iii.62–63). old Nobodaddy: wrathful god in Blake’s “Let the Brothels of Paris be opened.” leet: manorial court. old sir smile neighbour: from The Winter’s Tale (i.ii.196). shall covet […] manservant: from Exodus 20:17, Deuteronomy 5:21. jennyass: she ass. antiphoned: answered. Gentle Will: Ben Jonson referred to “Gentle Shakespeare.” Requiescat: Latin, “May she rest.”

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What of all […] long ago: from A. E.’s “Sung on a ByWay.” mobled: muffled. gospellers: Puritan preachers. sack: white wine imported from Spain. chapbooks: Puritan religious tracts. jordan: chamber pot. Hooks and […] Snuffbox: Puritan pamphlets. inquit: Latin, “says.” Chronolologos: Greek, “chronologer.” a man’s worst […] and family: from Matthew 10:36, Luke 12:52–53, William Blake’s Jerusalem. fat knight: Falstaff. deny thy kindred: from Romeo and Juliet (ii.ii.33–34). unco guid: unusually good. supping […] the cup: from 1 Henry IV (iii.iii.12, 98). Ultonian: from Ulster. Give me my Wordsworth: from Eglinton’s Two Essays on

the Remnant (1895). Magee Mor Matthew: Mór, Irish, “senior”; Matthew, a schoolmaster in Wordsworth’s early works. rough rugheaded kern: light-armed Irish soldier; from Richard II (ii.i.155–57). strossers: trousers. nether stocks: stockings. clauber of ten forests: mud; after The Countess Cathleen. wand of wilding in his hand: wild apple; after Wordsworth’s “Two April Mornings.” Dr Bob Kenny: Robert J. D. Kenny, surgeon, North Dublin Union Hospital. nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita: Italian, “in the middle of the journey of our life,” from Dante’s Inferno. From hour to hour it rots and rots: from As You Like It (i.vii.26–28).

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Calandrino: gullible character in Boccaccio’s Decameron. apostolic succession: transmission of spiritual authority to bishops. from only begetter: Shakespeare dedicated his sonnets “to the onlie begetter.” only begotten: Jesus, John 1:18 On that mystery […] Italian intellect: Pius IX’s declaration of Mary’s Immaculate Conception, that she was free of original sin. Amor matris, subjective and objective genitive: love of the mother, in two senses; see 28. Amplius. Adhuc. Iterum. Postea: Latin, “further,” “hitherto,” “again,” “afterwards”; terms in scholastic argument. queens with prize bulls: Pasiphaë in Metamorphoses. Sabellius, the African: early theologian,

see 21. beasts of the field: the serpent, Genesis 3:1. The bulldog […] refutes him: Thomas Aquinas refutes Sabellius in Summa Theologica; bulldog is a pun on Dominican, Domini canes, “Hounds of the Lord.” Rutlandbaconsouthamptonshakespeare: amalgamation of the supposed “true” authors of Shakespeare’s works; Roger Manners (1576–1612), fifth Earl of Rutland, Sir Francis Bacon, Henry Wriothesley (1573–1624) third Earl of Southampton, and Shakespeare. nature, as Mr Magee understands her, abhors perfection: from Eglinton’s (Magee) Pebbles from a Book (1901). through the twisted eglantine: sweet briar; from the Milton poem “L’Allegro” (1645).

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Pallas Athena!: born from Zeus’s forehead. The play’s the thing!: from Hamlet (ii.ii.641). parturiate: to fructify. forest of Arden: setting of As You Like It; Arden was Mary Shakespeare’s maiden name. Volumnia in Coriolanus: Volumnia dies in the play, written in the same year Shakespeare’s mother died. His boyson’s death […] in King John: the play and Hamnet Shakespeare’s death, aged eleven, occur in the same year, 1596. Who the girls in The Tempest, in Pericles, in Winter’s Tale: Judith Shakespeare, according to Harris; see 187. Cleopatra, fleshpot of

Egypt, and Cressid and Venus: seductive temptresses; fleshpots of Egypt; see 41. mess: group of four. Gilbert, Edmund, Richard: Shakespeare’s three brothers, Gilbert (1566–?), Edmund (1580–1607), and Richard (1574–1613). Gatherer: theater ticket vendor. mass: swearword, short for “by the mass.” wrastling play wud a man on’s back: imitation of a Warwickshire accent, “wrestling play with a man on his back”; Gilbert is supposed to have seen his brother William acting in As You Like It. What’s in a name?: from Romeo and Juliet (ii.ii.43).

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G 9:920

Piano, diminuendo: musical terms, Italian, “soft, gradual volume reduction.” Then outspoke […] medical Davy […]: from an unpublished poem by Oliver St John Gogarty. trinity of black Wills: Iago, from Othello, “Richard Crookback” from Richard III, and Edmund, from King Lear. shakebags: thief, pickpocket. Edmund lay dying in Southwark: King Lear, first staged in 1606; Edmund was buried in 1607. A tempo: musical term, Italian, “return to the original tempo.” But he that filches from me my good name: from Othello (iii.iii.159). Stringendo: musical term, Italian, “acceleration of tempo.” a

fair name: William, in As You Like It (v.i.25). super: supernumerary, a non-speaking role. in the sonnets where there is Will in overplus: Sonnet 135, “And Will to boot, and Will in over-plus.” Like John O’Gaunt: from Richard II (ii.i.73–83). coat of arms he toadied for: the Shakespeare family coat of arms was obtained in 1599. honorificabilitudinitatibus: Latin, “with heaped up honors”; in Love’s Labour’s Lost (v.i.42–46). greatest shakescene in the country: from Greene’s Groats-worth of Witte. firedrake: fiery meteor. Shottery: Anne Hathaway’s home village in Warwickshire.

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“Scylla and Charybdis” · 202

G 9:940 italics for sua donna

G 9:960

Wait to be wooed and won: from 1 Henry VI (v.iii.137–38). meacock: archaic, effeminate or cowardly person. Autontimerumenos: Autontimorumenos (G, correction); Heauton Timorumenos, Greek, “selftormentor”; play by Terence (c.185–159 bce); also, poem “L’Heautontimoroumenos,” by Baudelaire. Bous Stephanoumenos: Greek, “Garlanded Ox”; see P 141. S. D: sua donna […] non amar S. D.: Italian, “S.D.: his lady. Yes: his. Gelindo resolves not to love S.D.” pillar of the cloud: from Exodus 13:21. Fabulous artificer: Daedalus, inventor in Greek mythology. Newhaven–

Dieppe: route from England to France. Lapwing: bird of the plover family. Icarus: see 4. Pater, ait: Latin, “Father, he cries.” fallen, weltering: from Milton’s Paradise Lost (i.78). that brother motif […] old Irish myths: the virtuous and successful third brother. Best brothers: Best and Best, solicitors, 24 Frederick Street. Father Dineen: Patrick Stephen Dinneen (1860–1934), writer, editor, and philologist. rectly: rectus, Latin, “straight.” two noble kinsmen: c.1613 play by John Fletcher (1579–1625), successor to Shakespeare at the Globe. nuncle: uncle.

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G 9:980

G 9:1000

Where is your brother? from Genesis 4:9. Apothecaries’ hall: Stanislaus Joyce worked at Apothecaries’ Hall, 40 Mary Street. voice of Esau: from Genesis 27:22. My kingdom for a drink: after Richard III (v.iv.13). chronicles: Raphael Holinshed’s Chronicles (1587). Richard the conqueror: Richard III was the third son. angel of the world: Cymbeline (iv.ii.248). Edmund: Gloucester’s illegitimate son in King Lear, who overthrows his brother Edgar; Brandes argued Lear’s story was Celtic. George Meredith: (1828–1909) English novelist, poet. Bohemia on the seacoast: The Winter’s Tale (iii.iii.1).

makes Ulysses quote Aristotle: from Troilus and Cressida (iii.iii.114–15). what the poor is not, always with him: inversion of Matthew 26.11. protasis, epitasis, catastasis, catastrophe: dramatic terms for introduction, development, climax, and denouement. Susan […] adultery: the slanderer was subsequently excommunicated. Maynooth: town east of Dublin. original sin […] has sinned: Maynooth Catechism; Romans 5:12. petrified on his tombstone: forbids the opening of the grave, so Anne could not be buried there. Age has not withered it: after Antony and Cleopatra (ii.ii.240–41).

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G 9:1020

italics for fils and for père

G 9:1040

change comma to fullstop after doorstep

He is all in all: after Hamlet (i.ii.187–88). In Cymbeline, in Othello: plays about jealousy and suspicion. Carmen: 1875 opera by George Bizet. hornmad: mad with rage over being a cuckold. Cuckoo! Cuckoo!: suggestive of cuckold. O word of fear!: from Love’s Labour’s Lost (v.ii.906–10). reverbed: reecho; from King Lear (i.i.154–56). Dumas fils (or is it Dumas père?): Alexander Dumas the father (père) wrote this in Souvenirs dramatiques. Man delights him not nor woman neither: from Hamlet (ii.ii.330–31). man and boy: from Hamlet

(v.i.176). his journey of life ended: see 198. The motion is ended: from Romeo and Juliet (iii. ii.59–60). Lizzie, grandpa’s lump of love: Elizabeth Shakespeare, the playwright’s granddaughter; lump of love; see 39. where the bad niggers go: from “Old Uncle Ned,” a song by Steven Foster (1826–64). Strong curtain: efficient end to a play or act. Maeterlinck: Maurice Maeterlinck (1862–1949), Belgian poet and playwright; from La Sagesse et la destinée (Wisdom and Destiny). light first and the sun two days later: after Genesis 1:1–19.

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delete comma after douce G 9:1060

for Eclection read Eclecticon

G 9:1080

no more marriages: from Hamlet (iii.i.154–57). spoken to Malachi: after Malachi 1:1. douce: sweet, pleasant. they fingerponder […] The Taming of the Shrew: Swinburne’s criticism of the Variorum Editions in “The Three Stages of Shakespeare.” French triangle: ménage à trois. Platonic dialogues: Wilde’s quasi-Platonic dialogues “The Decay of Lying,” and “The Critic as Artist,” from Intentions (1891). Dowden: Edward Dowden’s Shakespeare: A Critical Study of His Mind and Art (1857). Herr Bleibtreu: Carl Bleibtreu (1859–1928), asserted that Shakespeare’s plays were

written by Roger Manners; see 199. hidden in the Stratford monument: the “Baconians” claim the true identity of the plays’ author is hidden in Shakespeare’s tomb. present duke: James Robert Manners (1818–1906) the Seventh Duke of Rutland. I believe, O Lord, help my unbelief: from Mark 9:23–24. Egomen: Greek, “I especially.” only contributor to Dana who asks for pieces of silver: Joyce requested payment for publication of his poem “My love is in a light attire” in Dana in August 1904. Fraidrine: Fred Ryan, editor of Dana.

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“Scylla and Charybdis” · 206

G 9:1100

G 9:1120

Mecklenburgh street: renamed Tyrone Street; main thoroughfare of the red-light district. Summa contra Gentiles: Thomas Aquinas’s On the Truth of the Catholic Faith against the Heathens. Fresh Nelly and Rosalie, the colquay whore: from Oliver St John Gogarty’s Collected Poems. wandering Ængus of the birds: from Yeats’s “The Song of Wandering Aengus” (1899) and “The Old Age of Queen Maeve” (1903); Aengus Og, the god of youth, beauty, and love. orts: inedible meat. Notre ami: French, “our friend.” French letters:

condoms. till eleven: closing time for pubs. Irish nights entertainment: from The Fenian Nights’ Entertainment (1897) by Patrick J. McCall (1861–1919). lubber: clumsy or loutish fellow. gall: make sore by rubbing. kibe: a sore; from Hamlet (v.i.151–53). all amort: lifeless; from The Taming of the Shrew (iv.iii.36), and 1 Henry VI (iii.ii.124). parafes: paraph, flourish made after a signature. A pleased bottom: Bottom in Midsummer Night’s Dream. smoothsliding Mincius: river in Lombardy; Virgil was born nearby; from Milton’s “Lycidas.”

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The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 317

G 9:1140

for filibeg read fillibeg

Puck: mischievous Robin Goodfellow from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. trolling: singing in a jovial style. John Eglinton […] wed a wife?: after “John Anderson My Jo” (1789), by Robert Burns. Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton: after the song “Chin Chin Chinaman,” from The Geisha; see 93. playbox: theater. plumbers’ hall: the Mechanics’ Institute, 27 Abbey Street, became the Abbey Theatre in December 1904. public sweat: pubic sweat (G, correction). whipping lousy Lucy gave him: anecdotal prosecution and imprisonment

of Shakespeare by Sir Thomas Lucy for alleged deer poaching. femme de trente ans: French, “thirty-yearold woman”; an experienced woman; 1831 novel by Honoré de Balzac. minion of pleasure: from Sonnet 126. M’Curdy Atkinson: Dublin literary figure. footed featly: elegantly; from The Tempest (i.ii.379). I hardly hear the purlieu cry: after Yeats’s “Baile and Ailinn” (1903); purlieu, “a disreputable street.” Tommy: British soldier. fillibeg: kilt. Know thyself: motto inscribed at the Temple of Apollo at Delphi.

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“Scylla and Charybdis” · 208

G 9:1160

G 9:1180

what you wrote about that old hake Gregory: Lady Augusta Gregory (1852–1932), writer and playwright who recommended Joyce for a position at the Daily Express; Joyce subsequently wrote an unflattering review of her play Poets and Dreamers. most beautiful book that has come out of our country in my time: after Yeats’s preface to Lady Gregory’s 1902 version of the myths of Cuchulain in the Ulster Cycle of Irish mythology, Cuchulain of Muirthemne: The Story of the Red Branch of Ulster. One thinks of Homer: Matthew Arnold’s phrase from “The Study of Poetry,” Essays

in Criticism. Gone the nine men’s morrice: from A Midsummer Night’s Dream (ii.i.98); an ancient board game. Everyman His Own Wife: after titles such as Ben Jonson’s Every Man In His Own Humour (1598); Stephen thinks this of angels. patch’s: fool, clown. marcato: Italian, “marked, pronounced,” musical term. Tostoff : from toss off, to masturbate. bushranger: Australian bush bandits. Camden hall: make-shift theater that temporarily housed the Irish National Theatre Society. daughters of Erin: Inghinidhe na hÉireann, 1900–11 nationalist socialist women’s group.

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G 9:1200

G 9:1220

If Socrates leave […] forth tonight: after Maeterlinck’s La Sagesse et la destinée. Here I watched the birds: see Portrait (P 188). wandering jew: legendary Ahaseurus, cursed to walk the earth until the Day of Judgement; see 34. He looked upon you to lust after you: after Matthew 5:27–28. I fear thee, ancient mariner: from Coleridge’s “Rime of

the Ancient Mariner” (1798). pard: panther, leopard. coigns: vantage places; see 39. Cease to strive: from Cymbeline (v.v.152); from Tennyson’s “Ulysses” (70). Peace of the druid priests of Cymbeline: after Cymbeline (v.v.437–45). hierophantic: expounder of sacred mysteries. Laud we the gods: from Cymbeline (v.v.477–79).

10 · “WANDERING ROCKS” Scarlett Baron

In the schematic tables Joyce drew up in 1920 and 1921 to help his early readers make sense of Ulysses, the tenth episode is slated to unfold between 3 and 4 p.m. Yet in fact “Wandering Rocks” opens at 2.55 p.m., with Father Conmee “reset[ting] his smooth watch in his interior pocket” and striding forth from his presbytery (210; 10:1–2). The book’s most insistently timeconscious episode starts, in other words, just a little too soon, perhaps reflecting its first character’s zestful appetite for the afternoon. The “Scene” – so the Gilbert schema affirms – is “The Streets” and “[t]he superior, the very reverend John Conmee S. J.” is, as the reader soon discovers, but one of a large cast of Dubliners whose activities and progress through the city are meticulously charted. Stephen Dedalus and Leopold Bloom, around whom Ulysses seemed to have found a loose twin focus, make only brief appearances in this “collective” episode.1 Stephen is seen in conversation with Almidano Artifoni, his singing tutor, and later at a bookstall where he chances upon his sister Dilly (219, 266–68; 10:338–66, 800–80). Bloom is seen in a bookshop, choosing a titillating new volume of erotic fiction to bring home to his wife Molly (260–61; 10:584–641). Though both remain minor presences, they are no more so than all the other characters

briefly caught in the spotlight of the narrator’s attention. In an episode of precisely timestamped meetings and passings-by, “everyone,” observes Declan Kiberd, “appears marginal,” to the point that many fleetingly viewed characters seem to function as little more than coordinates on a map of Dublin.2 Indeed, with even seemingly central protagonists relegated to peripheral cameos, “Wandering Rocks” can seem oddly inhuman – dedicated to the restitution of the urban layout and material reality of Dublin on June 16, 1904 more than to the depiction of characters and the rendering of their interior lives. Not for nothing does the Linati schema name “Objects, Places, Forces” before “Ulysses” in its listing of the episode’s “Persons.” Though “Wandering Rocks” does fitfully grant the reader access to the minds of some of the men and women encountered in its pages, the overall impression produced is of “a composite portrait of most of the book’s minor characters and a panoramic view of Dublin itself.”3 As the tenth in the book’s series of eighteen episodes, “Wandering Rocks” is often regarded as a pivot between the relatively comprehensible prose of the first half of Ulysses and the ever

1  Fritz Senn, “Charting Elsewhereness: Erratic Interlocations,” in Joyce’s “Wandering Rocks,” ed. Andrew Gibson and Steven Morrison (Amsterdam and New York: Brill, 2002), 155–85, at 157 and 162.

3  Clive Hart, “Wandering Rocks,” in James Joyce’s “Ulysses”: Critical Essays, ed. Clive Hart and David Hayman (Berkeley and London: University of California Press, 1974), 181–216, at 186.

2  Declan Kiberd, “Ulysses” and Us: The Art of Everyday Living (London: Faber & Faber, 2009), 160.

“Wandering Rocks” · 321

more radical experimentation of the second.4 Joyce too seems to have regarded it as occupying a central position: the words “End of First Part of ‘Ulysses’” appear at the foot of his faircopy manuscript of the ninth, or “Scylla and Charybdis,” episode.5 Yet “Wandering Rocks” presents more of a challenge than this account of its halfway-house position might suggest. Though the formal and stylistic novelties of “Aeolus” and “Scylla and Charybdis” may be so defamiliarizing to the reader as to make “Wandering Rocks” seem a place of respite, the apparent “plainness” of its “predominantly homogenous dead-pan style” conceals dramatic infringements of the book’s previously established narrative norms.6 Not only are Bloom and Stephen relegated to the sidelines, but Ulysses’ relationship to the Odyssey – the intertextual reference point writ large in the book’s title – is temporarily suspended. Like all other episodes of Joyce’s epic, the “title” of “Wandering Rocks” – used in Joyce’s notebooks, letters, and schemas but nowhere featured in the book itself – conjures the world of classical myth. Yet this episode’s relationship to Homeric precedent is anomalous. In Book 12 of the Odyssey, Circe directs Odysseus on his journey home, explaining that he must either face Scylla and Charybdis (a route which itself involves a choice between alternatives) or brave the Wandering Rocks. Because Odysseus chooses the first of these options, never confronting the peril of the Wandering Rocks, the tenth episode of Ulysses marks a “counterfactual” deviation from Joyce’s purported roadmap.7 4  See for example Steven Morrison, “Introduction,” in Joyce’s “Wandering Rocks,” 1–16, at 1. 5  Hans Walter Gabler, Text Genetics in Literary Modernism and other Essays (Cambridge: OpenBook Publishing, 2018), 81. 6  Senn, “Charting Elsewhereness,” 160. 7  The word is Margot Norris’s; “countermythical” or “counterfictional” would be more apt (the Odyssey is not, after all, a factual account). See “Possible-Worlds Theory and Joyce’s ‘Wandering Rocks’: The Case of Father Conmee,” Joyce Studies Annual (2007), 21–43, at 37. Senn points out that Odysseus’s account of his travels to Penelope does include an ambiguous mention of the road not taken – one which suggests he did in fact “come to the Wandering Rocks” (“Charting Elsewhereness,” 156).

Yet this going “off-grid” is a temporary intertextual re-routing rather than a journey into uncharted literary waters. For although Odysseus himself does not sail through the Wandering Rocks, Jason and the Argonauts had already done so – as Circe recounts during the returning warrior’s stay on her island. As Fritz Senn points out, Circe’s directions to Odysseus as to how to reach the “Planktai” (or “Erring or Clashing Rocks”) conflate them with the “Symplegades,” which Jason and his crew had confronted. This Homeric amalgamation leaves its mark on Joyce’s Gilbert schema, with the word “Symplegades” appearing in the column devoted to “Correspondences.”8 These several mythical reference points do not exhaust the suggestions nested in Joyce’s schemas. The episode’s “technic,” according to the Linati schema, is “Shifting labyrinth between two shores”; the Gilbert schema names it simply as “Labyrinth.” Although Joyce explained the entry as the name of a Swiss board game he played with his daughter during the episode’s composition, the word evokes the Ovidian story of Daedalus’s flight from the labyrinth of Minos.9 This is the legend evoked by Stephen Dedalus’s surname and that from which A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man takes its epigraph. In that novel, the mythical tale is strongly associated with the portrayal of Dublin as a site of entrapment and paralysis – one Stephen hopes to escape by dint of “silence, exile, and cunning” (P 208). In “Scylla and Charybdis,” Stephen remembers his attempt at metaphorical flight (in literal terms, relocation to Paris), and reflects on the failure which, he realizes, affiliates him to Dedalus’s “[l]apwing” son Icarus (“Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering”) more than to the “[f]abulous artificer” himself (202; 9:952–54). The disenchantment of this ill-fated attempt to leave Dublin suffuses his state of mind in “Wandering Rocks.” When he finds his sister Dilly with a copy of Chardenal’s French primer in her hands, he infers (as do we) that she, too, dreams of another life – one she might attain by traveling to the

8  Senn, “Charting Elsewhereness,” 155. 9  Frank Budgen, James Joyce and the Making of “Ulysses,” and Other Writings (London: Oxford University Press, 1972), 125.

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continent. If Stephen is “Seabedabbled” by his return to his starting-point, he thinks of his sister as already “drowning” (233; 10:875). His distress at her poverty, perhaps also at the futility of her hopes (“Misery! Misery!”) may offer one explanation for Joyce’s description of the Dublin portrayed in this episode as a “Hostile Milieu” (233; 10:880).10 If it swerves off the route plotted by Ulysses’ principal intertextual ground-plan, “Wandering Rocks” has, perhaps more than any other episode, become iconic for reasons pertaining to its exceptional cartographic accuracy in another realm – that of Dublin on June 16, 1904. Although Joyce’s careful anchoring of the text in the documented ­historical and geographical reality of Dublin is readily apparent from even a cursory reading, the special fascination surrounding the episode is in large part attributable to Frank Budgen’s account of its genesis. “To see Joyce at work on the Wandering Rocks,” he marvels, “was to see an engineer at work with compass and side-rule. A surveyor with theodolite and measuring chain or, more Ulyssean perhaps, a ship’s officer taking the sun, reading the log and calculating current drift and leeway.”11 Joyce, he continues, “wrote the Wandering Rocks with a map of Dublin before him […] He calculated to a minute the time necessary for his characters to cover a given distance of the city.”12 This intriguing biographical testimony sowed the seeds of a particular kind of critical obsession with Joyce’s handling of the movements of bodies in time and space. Clive Hart’s influential chart of the characters’ “minute by minute” progress through the city bespeaks just such an empirical curiosity.13 Though Hart states that reading “Wandering Rocks” is “like walking in the maze of the city’s streets,” his own painstaking calculations and verifications bear witness to a powerful desire to go beyond mere simile.14

10  The “Hostile Milieu” is the only entry in the “Sense (Meaning)” column of the Linati schema. 11  Budgen, James Joyce, 123.

The diagrammatic representations provided in Ian Gunn and Hart’s Topographical Guide to the Dublin of “Ulysses” are based on the same form of “practical criticism,” involving the traversal of Dublin on foot and the “timing [of] the various routes taken by the characters.”15 Though the literalism involved in such “attention to stick and stones” may seem reductive to those “more inclined to think in terms of symbols,” Joyce’s own well-documented investment in factual exactitude provides some justification for readings which likewise “border […] on the obsessive compulsive.”16 Such walking reenactments of the text reflect the importance of Dublin to Joyce’s Ulysses, brought alive as it is, in this episode especially, by a welter of information (street names, placenames, shop names, the names of institutions and monuments) which simulates the experience of urban immersion. “Wandering Rocks” is, as Hans Walter Gabler observes, “universally recognised and celebrated as the novel’s Dublin episode.”17 Many critical readings have focused on the realism and modernism of Joyce’s depiction of Dublin, linking his fragmentation of the narrative to the methods used by Woolf, Eliot, and Pound (amongst others) in their own disorienting renderings of city life. Yet recent criticism, especially that produced since the emergence of postcolonial theory, has tended to complicate the idea that “Wandering Rocks” simply “reproduces the generic urban experience.”18 Len Platt, for instance, shines a light on Joyce’s depiction of Dublin “not as a modern metropolis” but as “a city of Empire.” Joyce’s portrayal of his hometown, he contends, is “a response to a set of very much more specific historical conditions” than inspired “the generalist and faddist Modernist angst so characteristic of Pound and Eliot.”19 15  Hart, “Wandering Rocks,” 199. 16  Ian Gunn and Clive Hart, James Joyce’s Dublin: A Topographical Guide to James Joyce’s “Ulysses” (Dublin: Wake Newslitter Press, 1981), 9, 10, 16. 17  Gabler, Text Genetics, 81.

13  Hart, “Wandering Rocks,” 214–15.

18  Len Platt, “Moving in Times of Yore: Historiographies in ‘Wandering Rocks’,” in Joyce’s “Wandering Rocks,” 141–154, at 142.

14  Hart, “Wandering Rocks,” 189, my italics.

19  Platt, “Moving in Times of Yore,” 143.

12  Budgen, James Joyce, 124–25.

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The Dublin depicted in Ulysses, Platt contends, is not just a city: it is a colonial city everywhere marked by a history of seizure, repression, and rebellion. The references to aristocratic historical figures, and to streets named after English monarchs (Great Charles Street, William Street, George’s Quay, James’s Street), “commemorate something quite other than a vibrant national culture,” acting as markers of imperial history and pointing to British ownership, “not just of material things, but of the historical process itself” (212, 213, 218, 228; 10:68, 111, 297, 674, 720).20 Yet although rebels of Ireland’s anti-colonial past are remembered in these pages (the episode alludes to such celebrated rebels as Silken Thomas, the Fitzgeralds, and the Geraldines), 1904 attitudes to the British seem to involve mainly acquiescence or indifference (221–22; 10:408–49).21 Sitting in the Dublin Bakery Company, Haines, the English tourist whom Stephen so resents in “Telemachus” as a symbolic representative of the ruling power, asks Buck Mulligan whether he is being served “real Irish cream.” He does not, he explains, with what is termed “forbearance” – but is in fact astounding tactlessness – “want to be imposed on” (239; 10:1094–95). Mulligan, in keeping with his characterization as a servile collaborator, makes no response – none at least that the narrator chooses to retell. The most obvious dramatization of Ireland’s political situation is provided by the viceregal cavalcade, which is referred to throughout the episode and forms the focus of its final section. This “coda” – as Stuart Gilbert first called it – stands apart from the foregoing text, consisting of a brisk account of the Earl of Dudley’s equipage combining verbatim reprisals of vignettes featured earlier in the episode with descriptions of previously “unseen” responses to the imperial display.22 The viceregal cavalcade mattered to Joyce as a manifestation of colonial power: in order to make it happen on June

20  Platt, “Moving in Times of Yore,” 144–46. 21  Platt argues that those rebels who are mentioned are “heroes” only according to a specifically Anglo-Irish historical tradition (146). 22  Stuart Gilbert, James Joyce’s “Ulysses”: A Study (New York, NY: Vintage, 1952), 227.

15 William Humble, Earl of Dudley

16, 1904 (a date spelt out for the first and only time in this episode), he made an exception to his punctilious adherence to historical fact and changed the date of its actual historical occurrence (May 31, 1904) (220; 10:376).23 Though the narrator asserts, in a language just a little too crisply formal not to suggest irony, that the viceroy is “most cordially greeted on his way through the metropolis” (242; 10:1182–83), the recorded reactions to the cavalcade are more varied than this stilted formulation suggests. It is saluted by “obsequious policemen,” “greeted […] vainly from afar” by Mr Thomas Kernan, saluted by Tom Rochford, Mr Breen, Simon Dedalus, the reverend Hugh C. Love, “a loyal king’s man, Hornblower, touch[ing] his tallyho cap,” young Patrick Dignam, “rare male walkers,” “two small schoolboys,” and, in what is really a non-salute, by “Almido Artifoni’s sturdy trousers swallowed by a c­ losing door” (242–44; 10:1181, 1184, 1220, 1235, 1199–1201, 1201, 1264, 1265–67, 1278–9, 1279, 1281–82). It goes “unsaluted” by others, such as Mr Dudley

23  Platt, “Moving in Times of Yore,” 153.

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16 A man walking on Eden Quay, accompanied by a policeman

White and Blazes Boylan (who “forg[ets],” but offers the three ladies of the equipage “the bold admiration of his eyes”) (243; 10:1277– 82). It is watched by Lenehan and M’Coy and Nosey Flynn, seen by Dilly Dedalus, ambiguously “stared at” by John Henry Menton, “gazed down on” by Mulligan and Haines, and “view[ed] with wonder” by two “sanded cocklepickers” (242–43; 10:1204–5, 1217, 1228–29, 1230, 1224–25, 1275–76). John Wyse Nolan, meanwhile, “smile[s] with unseen coldness towards the lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland” (243; 10:1185–86, 1245– 46). Though the style of the coda seems designed to give a strong impression of objectivity (albeit punctually tinged with ceremonial çliché), this facade is betrayed by occasional bursts of acidic irony. The reference to the carriage-saluting policemen as ­ “obsequious” is one example. Others include the mention of an elderly female “smil[ing] credulously on the representative of His Majesty”; of Poddle river “h[anging] out in fealty a tongue of l­ iquid ­sewage”; of the “dauby” smile of ­“charming

soubrette” Marie Kendall – pictured on a ­poster outside Dan Lowry’s music hall – as if it were that of a real person (242–43; 10:1181, 1194–95, 1196–97, 1220–21). Such slippings of the mask give us glimpses of an embittered human perspective imperfectly concealed behind the veil of genre – a narrator who, though perhaps not driven by “malice” (as Hart repeatedly states), is occasionally unable to repress a certain acerbic resentment.24 If “Wandering Rocks” closes with the viceroy, the face of the British Empire, it opens with Father Conmee, the face of the Holy Catholic Church. It is thus bookended by representatives of the ideological and institutional forces which govern Ireland – the “two masters” of whom Stephen resentfully calls himself “a servant” in “Telemachus” (20; 1:638, 643–44). Both are, as Budgen puts it, “on errands of mercy bent.”25 Conmee is heading to 24  Hart, “Wandering Rocks,” 190, 200, 202. 25  Budgen, James Joyce, 124.

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the s­ uburb of Artane to appeal for a place for the newly orphaned Patrick Dignam (whose father was buried in “Hades”) at the Institute for Destitute Children. The viceroy is on his way to open the Mirus Bazaar “in aid of funds for Mercer’s hospital” (244; 10:1268–69). This framing – and Budgen’s memory that each man’s path was “traced in red ink” on Joyce’s map of Dublin – accords with Joyce’s identification of “Christ and Caesar” as “Symbols” of the episode in the Linati schema.26 The connection casts the ostensibly amiable priest in rather dubious light. Indeed, though Gilbert calls him “a kindly humanist,” Father Conmee seems subtly implicated by Joyce’s symmetrical organization of the episode as well as by his own unstintingly “smiling” demeanor – as dissonant in its own way as the formal, royal-bulletin style of the coda.27 An affable presence on the streets, Conmee is a character who likes “cheerful decorum” (213; 10:119–21). The pages are full of his blessings and beams and salutations. He blesses a one-legged sailor, “doff[s] his silk hat and smile[s]” at Mrs Sheehy, “smile[s] and “nod[s]” at three Clongowes boys, “smile[s] and salute[s]” Mrs M’Guinness, “greet[s] […] benignly” a group of “Christian brother boys” – to name but a clutch of instances (210–12; 10:10, 30, 53–54, 63–64, 77–78). Yet for all his bonhomie, Conmee’s speech and thoughts, conveyed through a free indirect discourse inflected by his own idiolect (that is, which uses the words and phrases he himself might use), sound some grating notes. His amusement at the thought of “Father Bernard Vaughan’s droll eyes and cockney voice” hints at class-inflected condescension (211; 10:30–34). In retrospect, the episode’s opening words (“the superior, the very reverend John Conmee S. J.” [210; 10:1]) come to seem an indication of character as much as of ecclesiastical status. Conmee’s social and political sympathies are also implied by the terms used to convey his appreciation of Mrs M’Guinness’s “fine carriage” and “queenly mien” (which he finds hard to square with her occupation as a pawnbroker) and by the daydream in which he stars as “Don John 26  Budgen, James Joyce, 124–25. 27  Gilbert, James Joyce’s “Ulysses,” 239.

Conmee,” “mov[ing] in times of yore” and officiating at a high-society wedding, “smil[ing] at smiling noble faces” (211–12, 214; 10:65–67, 174–76). Amid the poverty of Dublin, his effusive positivity, audible in the niceties he utters in conversation (“Father Conmee was wonderfully well indeed”) as well as in snippets of his private thoughts (“it was a peaceful day,” “it was a charming day”), sounds a discordant note (210, 213, 214; 10:19, 122, 179). Conmee’s symbolic alignment with imperialism is further intimated by his commitment to “the African mission” and “the propagation of the faith” to “the millions of black and brown and yellow souls that had not received the baptism of water” (214; 10:143–46).28 The ambivalence produced by this blending of charitable goodwill with religious colonialism is characteristic of Conmee’s portrayal as a man of contradictory positions. His attitudes to sex provide yet another example. Thinking of the rumors surrounding the sexual misdemeanors of “Mary, first countess of Belvedere,” Conmee laments sex as “that tyrannous incontinence, needed however for man’s race on earth” – only to behold a young couple sheepishly emerging from “a gap in the hedge” moments later (214–15; 10:163, 171–2, 199). Censorious Irish ­attitudes to sex and procreation, it seems worth remembering, motivated Joyce’s youthful disgust for his country. “My mind rejects the whole present social order and Christianity,” he wrote in August 1904, “home, the recognized virtues, classes of life, and religious doctrines. Six years ago I left the Catholic Church, hating it most fervently. I found it impossible for me to remain in it on account of the impulses of my nature” (L II 24). The ambiguity of Conmee’s characterization bears some traces of this revolt. It seems fitting that the opening section of “Wandering Rocks” – which renders Conmee’s delight in living, as Norris puts it, “in the best of all possible worlds” – should be c­learly

28  The priest’s thoughts on these matters are triggered by a poster advertising a show by Eugene Stratton, “an American who became a music-hall star as a Negro impersonator […] first with a minstrel group and then as a solo performer.” Don Gifford with Robert J. Seidman, “Ulysses” Annotated, 2nd ed. (Berkeley and London: University of California Press, 1988), 108.

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0

250

500

750

1000

Prospect Cemetery, Glasnevin

1250 yards

CABRA

North Circular Ro

ad

Viceregal Lodge

4 Mater Misericordiae Hospital

19

Richmond District Lunatic Asylum

Broadstone Terminus

PHOENIX PARK

Fruit, Vegetable, and Flower Market

Royal Barracks Kingsbridge (Heuston) Station

Four Courts

St James’s Gate (Guinness) Brewery

12 1.

2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19.

8

9

Dublin Distillers Co.

15 THE LIBERTIES

Father Conmee, from St Francis Xavier’s Church, Upper Gardiner Street, along Mountjoy Square, Great Charles Street, Richmond Place, Portland Row, North Strand Road, via tram from Newcomen Bridge at the Grand Canal to Howth Road Junction, then along Malahide Road toward the O’Brien Institute for Destitute Children, Donnycarney, and the Industrial School, Artane. Corny Kelleher, Henry J. O’Neill’s, Undertakers, North Strand Road. Onelegged sailor, from MacConnell’s Corner at Lower Dorset Street and Eccles Street, along Eccles Street to Nelson Street. Dedalus family, Cabra (the Joyces lived at 7 St Peter’s Terrace in June 1904). Blazes Boylan, at James Thornton’s, Fruiterer and Florist, Grafton Street. Stephen and Almidano Artifoni, at Goldsmith’s Statue, Trinity College. Miss Dunne, at Blazes Boylan’s office, (conjecturally) The Advertising Company, 15 D’Olier Street. Ned Lambert, Hugh C. Love, J. J. O’Molloy, at St Mary’s Abbey, off Capel Street. Tom Rochford, Nosey Flynn, Ted Lenehan, C. P. M’Coy, from Crampton Court along Dame street, Sycamore Street, Essex Street, Temple Bar, through Merchant’s Arch, to Grattan Bridge on Wellington Quay. Bloom, Merchant’s Arch. Simon and Dilly Dedalus, at Dillon’s auctionrooms, Bachelors Walk. Tom Kernan, from the sundial on James’s Street, down Watling Street, to Bloody Bridge (now Rory O’More Bridge). Stephen, from T. Russell, lapidary and gem cutter, Fleet Street, to Malachi Clohisey, Bookstore, Bedford Row. Simon Dedalus, Father Cowley, and Ben Dollard, from Reddy and Daughter’s antiques, Lower Ormond Quay, west towards the City of Dublin Sheriff’s Offices, Upper Ormond Quay. Martin Cunningham, John Wyse Nolan, and Jack Power, from Dublin Castle to James Kavanagh’s winerooms, Parliament Street, meeting John Fanning there. Buck Mulligan and Haines at Dublin Bread Co., Dame Street. Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell first east then west along Merrion Square North, to Bloom’s dentists, Clare Street, where he collides with the blind stripling. Master Patrick Dignam, along Wicklow Street, Grafton Street, and Nassau Street. William Humble, Earl of Dudley from the Viceregal Lodge in Phoenix Park, along the northern quays, (Albert, Ellis, Arran, King’s Inns, Upper Ormond) across Grattan Bridge, along Parliament Street, Dame Street, through College Green, along Nassau Street, Leinster Street, Merrion Square North, along Lower Mount Street, across Royal Canal Bridge, along Northumberland Road towards the Royal Dublin Society Showgrounds, Ballsbridge.

Dublin Castle

Portobello Barracks

“Wandering Rocks” · 327

Towards Artane Industrial School

O’Brien Institute for Destitute Children

DRUMCONDRA Malahide Road Junction

Roy

al C

3

Howth Road Junction

CLONTARF

ana

l

1 Newcomen Bridge

Mountjoy Square

2

Rutland Square Amiens Street Station

St Mary’s Pro-Cathedral General Post Office

Custom House

11 14 10 13

Bank of Ireland

7 6

16

Westland Row Station

Trinity College College Park

18

National Library Leinster House National Museum

RINGSEND

5

Merrion Square

17

Holles Street Hospital

St Stephen’s Green Fitzwillam Square

IRISHTOWN Star of the Sea Church

University College/ Royal University Harcourt Sreet Terminus

l

ana

dC

n Gra

SANDYMOUNT BALLSBRIDGE

Mountpleasant Square

RANELAGH

Royal Dublin Society’s Agricultural Premises

10 Viceregal Lodge, Phoenix Park to the Royal Dublin Society Showgrounds, Ballsbridge

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s­eparated from the rest of the text – which shows Dublin to be a more “hostile milieu” than he cares to admit – by three ­centered asterisks.29 Yet such typographical divisions (recalling the centered, capitalized headlines which punctuate the pages of “Aeolus”) are in fact a regular feature of the episode – all nineteen of its sections are demarcated from each other in this way. Leaving Conmee at his breviary, the narrative focus shifts to Corny Kelleher, the undertaker, then homes in on “a onelegged sailor” (who may or may not be the same “onelegged sailor” as was mentioned in the Conmee section); shows us Katy and Boody Dedalus heating a ration of peasoup donated to them by Sister Mary Patrick; moves onto “the blond girl in Thornton’s” who is packing a fruit basket for Boylan; and so on for the remaining fourteen sections. Such clearly signposted changes of tack are at least easy to spot. As such, they stand in contrast to another kind of disruption known to Joyceans by the name of “interpolation.”30 Stuart Gilbert describes this technical feature as involving “the insertion in each fragment of one or more excerpts from other fragments.”31 The first such insertion occurs in the opening section, when the narrator cuts from Father Conmee “walk[ing] along Mountjoy Square” to “Mr Denis J. Maginni […] walking […] at the corner of Dignam’s court” – the two walkers being located in entirely different parts of town (211; 10:55–60). The very next sentence returns us to Conmee’s field of vision and private thoughts (“Was that not Mrs M’Guinness?”): the narrative resumes, in other words, as if nothing unusual had happened. Such interruptions, porting us without comment from one place to another, become more frequent as the episode unfolds. The method is evocative of montage. Defamiliarizing though they are in their brevity and frequency, these interruptions

29  Norris, “Possible-Worlds Theory,” 23. 30  The term, now a staple of Joyce criticism, is Hart’s (“Wandering Rocks,” 193). Other terms are sometimes employed – Gifford and Seidman refer to them as “intrusions” (“Ulysses” Annotated, 260–87); Senn uses “interlocations” (“Charting Elsewhereness,” 160). 31  Gilbert, James Joyce’s “Ulysses,” 226.

and insertions are no novelistic innovation. Interpolations are in fact, as Senn points out, extremely commonplace in fiction, though they usually come with some “visible narrative gear-shifting.”32 The near-complete absence of warning signs or explanations for the interpolations which riddle the text of “Wandering Rocks” is the main source of its difficulty. Indeed, though “Wandering Rocks” may briefly seem to mark a return to what Joyce called the “initial style” – a relatively straightforward mode of narration mingling third-person narration, dialogue, idiolect-inflected free indirect discourse, and interior monologue – it is in fact an extremely complex episode, one pervaded by tricks and traps and requiring the reader’s ceaseless vigilance.33 Many of the interpolations are “synchronisms” (to use one of the terms listed under “Symbols” in the Gilbert schema): they establish a simultaneity between events removed in space but coinciding in time. These “plugins from elsewhere,” as Senn evocatively calls them, “break up the habitual unity of place” and “ruffle the surface of an even texture.”34 We dart from Bloom reading in a bookshop to Mr Denis J. Maginni on O’Connell bridge, and from Mr Kernan “preen[ing] himself” in a hairdresser’s mirror to a close-up of a crumpled throwaway (which may or may not be the pamphlet that Bloom discarded in “Lestrygonians”), “sailing westward” on the Liffey (226, 230; 10:585, 599, 742, 753). Some interpolations fit within a single sentence: “Corny Kelleher sped a silent jet of hayjuice arching from his mouth while a generous white arm from a window in Eccles street flung forth a coin” (216; 10:221–22, my italics). Why should these two quite separate actions be singled out for conjoining (and conjoining by means of a rare subordinating conjunction in an episode which proceeds mainly by asyndetic juxtaposition)? Though one might suspect “a whimsical connection between the types of movement involved,” the surmise hardly makes the link

32  Senn, “Charting Elsewhereness,” 160. 33  Hart, “Wandering Rocks,” 188. 34  Senn, “Charting Elsewhereness,” 159.

“Wandering Rocks” · 329

seem any less random.35 The effect of such tenuous connections is to remind the reader “that numerous events are constantly taking place outside of one’s perceptual range” – that all story-telling involves choices between alternatives.36 The interpolations thus collectively draw attention to the problem of selection – a theme which, by this point in the book, is already well established.37 In “Nestor,” Stephen had thought about history in Aristotelian terms, as an “ousting” of “infinite possibilities” (25; 2:49–50). “Wandering Rocks” gives concrete form to this insight, fostering a sense of the narrative we read as a final cut among alternatives now never to be explored. Behind the episode’s plot-lines lies a matrix of “infinite potentiality.”38 Though the frequency of the interpolations feels new, the technique is not in fact specific to this episode. A major temporal manipulation of the same kind presides over “Calypso,” in which the novel’s clock is turned back to 8 a.m. Having witnessed Stephen’s morning hours over the course of the first three episodes, we follow Bloom’s morning hours (8–11a.m.) in episodes 4 to 6 – which can, accordingly, be regarded as one long interpolation. Joyce’s use of narrative sequentiality to describe simultaneous events – disrupting the standard associations of sequential succession with forward movement in time – is thus, by “Wandering Rocks,” not entirely new. Some interpolations are not just “allotopic” – transporting us to another place – but also “allochronic” – transporting us to another time (the terms are Senn’s).39 When Conmee thinks of his time as a rector of Clongowes (“He was their rector: his reign was mild”), we travel back in time with him to an earlier period of his life also remembered by Stephen in “Scylla and Charybdis” (and which the reader may also recall from A Portrait) (215; 10:187–88; P 49).

The difficulty, for the reader, of making sense of this disconcerting assemblage of sections and interpolations in “Wandering Rocks” is aggravated by the episode’s refusal to ­establish the kinds of connection usually constitutive of narrative. Indeed, instead of narrative, “Wandering Rocks” gives us “relentless parataxis.”40 The withholding of the “causal, logical, or even temporal connections” between events goes beyond the sparseness associated with objective writing – beyond the “scrupulous meanness” Joyce claimed to have deployed in Dubliners.41 Here, the lack of “essential connective information” seems to smack of excess, betokening a draconian scepticism which refuses to make assumptions or draw inferences.42 Several examples of this dispensing with “connective fiber” pertain to the handling of recurrence.43 “Nearly everything” in the episode, notes Hart, “is presented as if seen for the first time.”44 Characters we may think we have encountered before are referred to by way of estranging indefinite articles. Thus, the “one­ legged sailor” who “crutche[s] himself round MacConnell’s corner” in the third section cannot with confidence be thought of as the same “onelegged sailor […] swinging himself onward by lazy jerks of his crutches” in the first (210; 10:228, 7–8). Nor is it clear what relationship these bear to “the onelegged sailor” who “growl[s]” a tune in section 16 (239; 10:1063). The relative rarity of onelegged sailors in the world suggests that these are references to the same person, yet the episode’s perplexing syntax counsels against their unthinking amalgamation. Likewise, the throwaway floating down the river proclaiming the news that “Elijah is coming” appears in three interpolations, each of which reuses near-identical items of phrasing (“a skiff, a crumpled throwaway”) (218, 230, 239; 10:294, 753, 1096). Marie Kendall – “charming soubrette” – is viewed smiling from

35  Karen Lawrence, The Odyssey of Style in “Ulysses” (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981), 84.

40  Gabler, Text Genetics, 90.

36  Senn, “Charting Elsewhereness,” 160, 159.

41  Lawrence, Odyssey of Style, 83. Joyce to Grant Richards, May 5, 1906, L II 134.

37  Senn, “Charting Elsewhereness,” 157.

42  Hart, “Wandering Rocks,” 189.

38  Lawrence, Odyssey of Style, 87.

43  Lawrence, Odyssey of Style, 85.

39  Senn, “Charting Elsewhereness,” 164, 159.

44  Hart, “Wandering Rocks,” 189.

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her poster time after time, and every time as if for the first time (220, 223, 241, 243; 10:380– 81, 495–96, 1142, 1220–21). The verbatim repetition involved in the episode’s use of such “linguistic tags” imparts a curiously mechanical quality to the narrative.45 It is as if the episode were being written by a kind of machine.46 That this mechanicity forms part of Joyce’s intention is clear from both schemas’ references to “Mechanics” as the “Science / Art” (Linati) or “Art” (Gilbert) of the episode. Its effect is to make great demands on the reader’s attention and puzzle-solving abilities. “[A] good memory” for repetitions and parallels is crucial to compensate for the episode’s own lack of “narrative memory.”47 Only once the reader has developed the required skills involved in “retrospective arrangement” will the episode’s fragments be fitted meaningfully together (and even then question marks and lacunae necessarily remain) (231; 10:783). For all its stringent discursive economy, the episode does afford the reader some moments of psychological intimacy. Conmee, as we have seen, is revealed to us through a mode of free indirect discourse which gives us access to the personalized idioms and rhythms of his thought and speech (“Beautiful weather it was, delightful indeed”) (210; 10:161). Interior monologue – fostering an even greater sense of privacy and immediacy – is also used. Bloom and Stephen are so singled out; but so too, more surprisingly, are several very minor characters. Thus, we “overhear” Boylan appreciatively apprising the young lady wrapping his purchase of fruit at Thornton’s: “A young pullet” (219; 10:327). In a separate vignette, Miss Dunne, Boylan’s secretary, thinks disapprovingly of Marie Kendall on her poster: “she’s not nicelooking, is she? The way she’s holding up her bit of a skirt” (220; 10:382–83). Mr Kernan’s acute disappointment at missing the cavalcade is also rendered through interior monologue: “His Excellency! Too bad! Just missed that by a 45  Lawrence, Odyssey of Style, 85. 46  See Lawrence, Odyssey of Style, 84–85, and Hart, “Wandering Rocks,” 194. 47  Budgen, James Joyce, 129; Lawrence, Odyssey of Style, 84–85.

hair. Damn it! What a pity!” (231; 10:798–99). The most touching moment is reserved for the newly orphaned Patrick Dignam. His interior monologue conveys his thoughts on matters as various as the boxing match he has missed (“blooming thing is all over”) and the loss he is trying to comprehend: “Never see him again. Death, that is. Pa is dead. My father is dead” (241; 10:1139, 1169–70). For Terence Killeen, the passage, a rare moment of emotion in a “mechanical” chapter, brings us close to “the real sources of Joyce’s genius.”48 “Wandering Rocks” demands, for full appreciation, to be set in the context of other ­episodes of Ulysses to which it is linked in myriad different ways. Relatively straightforward narrative cross-references abound. The Elijah throwaway is one example; the two cocklepickers whom Stephen sees in “Proteus,” and who reappear here on two separate occasions, provide another (232, 244; 10:818–20, 1274–6). The episode looks forwards as well as backwards. Miss Douce and Miss Kennedy make brief appearances before assuming more prominent roles in the “Sirens” episode (236, 242; 10:962–63, 1197–99). Likewise, Gerty MacDowell, destined to assume a starring role in “Nausicaa,” gets a cameo here, wondering, quite in character, about the sartorial choices of the viceroy’s entourage (“she couldn’t see what Her Excellency had on”) (243; 10:1208–9). There are stylistic connections to be drawn as well. The narrator’s choice of adjective to characterize Mrs M’Guinness (“stately”) may be read as an arrow pointing back to the book’s opening words: “Stately, plump Buck Mulligan” (211, 3; 10:61, 1:1). Likewise, the narrator’s marked partiality for adverbs (“Buck Mulligan gaily, and Haines gravely, gazed down on the viceregal equipage”; “By the provost’s wall came jauntily Blazes Boylan”) recalls the parody of the style of Edwardian novel-writing with which the book opens in “Telemachus” (243; 10:1224–25, 1240–41).49 48  Terence Killeen, “Ulysses” Unbound: A Reader’s Companion to James Joyce’s “Ulysses” (Dublin: Wordwell, 2005), 114. 49  See Lawrence, Odyssey of Style, 45, and Hugh Kenner, Joyce’s Voices (Rochester, NY: Dalkey Archive Press, 2007), 70.

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The coda ­provides an example of formal rather than stylistic similarity: it seems, in its quickfire recapitulative cataloguing, to function as an antecedent or mirror image of the “overture” of “Sirens” – in which the episode’s leitmotifs are listed ahead of (rather than, as in the “Wandering Rocks” coda, after) their deployment in the main body of the text. In part because of such connections, “Wandering Rocks” is sometimes taken as a microcosm of Ulysses.50 Neat though such a patterning would be, given its midpoint position in the sequence of chapters, the correspondence is imperfect. Even Gunn and Hart – much of whose research extrapolates the literalist approach Hart developed in response to “Wandering Rocks” to the rest of the book – r­ ecognize the limitations of the parallel: “most of the action of Ulysses,” they concede, “is less precisely timed than is Wandering Rocks.”51 The episode is less a miniature folded into the center than an installment in what is a continuum of upheaval, a staging-post among many in the book’s uprooting of ordinary readerly expectations. Just as Ulysses invites and resists formal and narrative description, so “Wandering Rocks” seems

both to incite and to resist the urge to retrieve story or shape from the decentralized array of its nineteen sections. Similarly, while the mimetic realism of “Wandering Rocks” has certainly fuelled much fetishistic fascination, its discombobulating technical makeup also tests the limits of literalist approaches. In one of his most famous statements, Joyce predicted that if Dublin were destroyed “it could be reconstructed out of [his] book.”52 This is, of course, not literally true. As Gabler remarks, large-scale collective reenactments (such as that held in 1982, the centenary year of Joyce’s birth) have proved a “fascinatingly successful failure,” demonstrating that the episode was written to be read, “hold[ing] together not through any material or topographical localisation, but through acts of reading.” For as the participants discovered, “it was impossible for any individual observer […] to be in more than maybe two or three locations in time to witness what happened there.”53 Like the rest of Ulysses, “Wandering Rocks” is a lesson in reading, in the negotiation of the space between reality and imagination which is the special pleasure of realistic fiction.

50  See Gilbert, James Joyce’s “Ulysses,” 227.

52  Budgen, James Joyce, 69.

51  Gunn and Hart, James Joyce’s Dublin, 9.

53  Gabler, Text Genetics, 98.

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for onlegged read onelegged

for come read came

G 10:20

presbytery steps: Conmee’s house, next to the Church of St Francis Xavier, Upper Gardiner Street. Artane: former village, now northeast Dublin suburb. Vere dignum et iustum est: Latin, “it is truly fitting and right”; preface to the Communion and a prayer for the dead. Good practical catholic: useful at mission time: see Martin Cunningham in “Grace,” Dubliners. convent of sisters of charity: 76 Upper Gardiner Street. one silver crown: coin worth a quarter of a pound sterling, or five shillings. Mountjoy square:

in northeast Dublin. cardinal Wolsey’s words: Thomas Wolsey (c.1473–1530), English cardinal and statesman; his opposition to Henry VIII’s divorce led to his ousting. wife of Mr David Sheehy M. P.: Bessie Sheehy, 2 Belvedere Place; see 157. Buxton: town in Derbyshire, England, whose waters were famed for their curative effects. Belvedere: Belvedere College, Great Denmark Street, a Jesuit day-school established in 1841; Joyce went to school here and the Sheehy children were his classmates.

211 · “Wandering Rocks”

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for Sheedy read Sheehy

for stropped read stopped

G 10:40

G 10:60

mantilla: large lace or silk headscarf. arecanut: Areca nut, once used as the main ingredient of toothpaste. Pilate! […] that owlin mob?: Father Conmee thinks, in Father Vaughan’s cockney accent, of the mob demanding the crucifixion of Jesus. Of good family […] Welsh, were they not?: Father Vaughan was not related to the Welsh Vaughans. father provincial: Conmee’s superior, the head of the Society of Jesuits in Ireland. little house: the primary (elementary) school at Belvedere, next to the main building. Jack Sohan: pawnbroker, 38

Townsend Street. Ger. Gallaher: Ignatius Gallaher’s younger brother, Gerald. Brunny Lynam: possibly, Bernard M. Lynam, Joyce’s classmate at University College Dublin. lady Maxwell: A Lady Maxwell lived nearby at 37 Great George’s Street North. Dignam’s court: off Parnell (formerly Great Britain) Street. Mrs M’Guinness: Ellen McGuinness, pawnbroker, 38–39 Upper Gardiner Street. Mary queen of Scots: Mary Stuart (1542–87), Catholic, daughter of King James V of Scotland, mother of James I of England.

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“Wandering Rocks” · 212

G 10:80

G 10:100

shutup free church: (Church of Ireland) Free Church, 45 Great Charles Street. reverend T. R. Greene: minister of the Free Church. D. V.: Deo volente, Latin, “God willing.” Invincible ignorance: exonerating ignorance, according to the Roman Catholic Church. according to their lights: according to their reasoning. Christian brother boys: at the school on North Richmond Street. Saint Joseph’s: (Roman Catholic) Church and Asylum for Aged and Virtuous Females, Portland Row. Aldborough house: landmark private residence built in 1776 by Lord Aldborough. an office or something: General Post Office Stores Branch

and Surveyor’s Department. Mr William Gallagher: grocer, coal, and corn merchant, 4 North Strand Road. cools: tubs of butter. Grogan’s the tobacconist: 16 North Strand Road. dreadful catastrophe in New York: sinking of the General Slocum; 1,030 people died, without the sacrament of extreme unction; see 174. Daniel Bergin’s publichouse: 17 North Strand Road. H. J. O’Neill’s funeral establishment: see 68. Youkstetter’s, the porkbutcher’s: 21 North Strand Road. Charleville Mall: on the south bank of the Royal Canal.

213 · “Wandering Rocks”

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G 10:120

G 10:140 italics for bless you, my child, and for pray for me

Newcomen bridge: North Strand Road continues here over the Royal Canal. the reverend Nicholas Dudley C. C. of saint Agatha’s church: Reverend J. D. Dudley, C. C., or curate-in-charge of St Agatha’s Church, William Street. Mud Island: mudflats on the northeast shores of Dublin. ivy church: the North Strand Episcopal Church, 61 North Strand Road.

Annesley bridge: North Strand continues here over the Tolka River. bless you my child: phrase used by a priest in the confessional. grinned: grimaced (G, correction). sermon of: sermon on (G, correction). saint Peter Claver S. J. and the African mission: Spanish Jesuit working to abolish slavery and convert African slaves in Colombia; see 77.

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G 10:160

G 10:180

like a thief in the night: from 1 Thessalonians 5:2. Belgian jesuit, Le Nombre des Élus: Father A. Castelein’s Rigorism, the Question of the Number of the Chosen and the Doctrine of Salvation. The joybells were ringing in gay Malahide: from “The Bridal of Malahide,” by Gerald Griffin (1803–40). Lord Talbot de Malahide: member of prominent Old English family. she was maid, wife and widow in one day: Maud Plunkett, whose husband, Sir Walter Hussey, was killed on their wedding day. Old Times in the Barony: book by Father Conmee. Mary Rochfort: daughter of

Richard, Third Viscount Molesworth; married Colonel Robert Rochfort (1708–74), Earl of Belvedere, who accused her, falsely, of adultery and imprisoned her on the Rochford estate. lough Ennel: also Belvedere Lake, County Westmeath. eiaculatio seminis inter vas naturale mulieris: Latin, “ejaculation of semen inside the woman’s natural organ.” Don John: Don, member of a religious order or of a college; Don Juan. beeswaxed: polished. ceiled with full fruit clusters: stucco-work. lychgate: lich gate, a roofed gateway to a churchyard. Moutonner: French, “to render fleecy.”

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G 10:200 for hat read cap

G 10:220

reading his office: Divine Office, the Roman Catholic breviary. Rathcoffey: village in County Kildare. boys’ lines: the subdivisions of the students at Clongowes. Nones: prayers said around 3 p.m., part of the Divine Office. Pater and Ave: Latin, “father,” “hail”; terms in the Lord’s Prayer and the Hail Mary. Deus in adiutorium: Latin, “O God, to my aid [come]”; part of the nones, from Psalm 70. Res: the Hebrew letter for this section of the prayer: Beati […] iustitiae tuae:

Latin, “Blessed are the undefiled: Thy word is true from the beginning: and everyone of thy righteous judgements endureth forever.” Sin: Principes persecuti […] cor meum: sin, the Hebrew letter for this section; Latin, “Princes have persecuted me without a cause: but my heart standeth in awe of thy word.” Constable 57C: from C Division of the Dublin Metropolitan Police; station was on Store Street. close weather: stifling, humid weather.

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G 10:240

What’s the best news?: stock greeting phrase. MacConnell’s corner: Andrew MacConnell, pharmaceutical chemist, 112 Lower Dorset Street. Rabaiotti’s icecream car: Antonio Rabaiotti, Elm

View, 62a Madras Place. For England […] home and beauty: from “The Death of Nelson,” written by S. J. Arnold, with music by John Braham.

217 · “Wandering Rocks”

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G 10:260

G 10:280

put in: pawn at M’Guinness’s; see 211. Bad cess: Hiberno-English, bad luck to. Crickey: alternative to “Christ.” Sister Mary Patrick: from the Roman Catholic Sister of Charity, 76 Upper Gardiner Street.

lacquey: alternate spelling of lackey, an obsequious servant. Our father who art not in heaven: inversion of the Lord’s Prayer from Matthew 6:9.

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G 10:300

G 10:320

throwaway, Elijah is coming: Dowie’s flyer; see 144. shooting the rapids: the Liffey is flowing faster because of the outgoing tide. Customhouse old dock and George’s quay: the New Custom House sits on the Liffey’s north bank; the quay is on the south bank. Thornton’s: James Thornton’s, “fruiterer and florist to His Majesty the King, His Excellency the Lord

Lieutenant, and His Royal Highness the Duke of Connaught, Knight of the Garter,” 63 Grafton Street. game ball: Hiberno-English, good, grand. H. E. L. Y.’S.: the stationer’s sandwichboard men; see 102. past Tangier lane: intersects Grafton Street. Merchant’s arch: covered passageway between Temple Bar and Wellington Quay.

219 · “Wandering Rocks”

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G 10:340 for Pale faces read Palefaces

G 10:360

pullet: young hen or, colloquially, girl. Ma!: Italian, “But!” Goldsmith’s: Goldsmith’s statue stands on the grounds of Trinity College; see 183. poll: head. Trinity […] bank of Ireland: the two buildings face each other across College Green; blind, as the Bank of Ireland has no windows. Anch’io ho avuto […] Lei si sacrifice: Italian, “I too had such ideas when I was as young as you. But then I became convinced that the world is a beast. It’s a shame. Because your voice ... might be a source of income, come now. You’re sacrificing

yourself.” Sacrifizio incruento: Italian, “bloodless sacrifice.” Speriamo […] Ma, dia retta a me. Ci refletia: Italian, “Let us hope. But, listen to my advice. Think about it.” Grattan: bronze statue of Henry Grattan in front of the Bank of Ireland. Ci riflettero: Italian, “I’ll think about it.” Ma, sul serio, eh?: Italian, “But seriously, okay?” Eccolo […] pensi. Addio, caro: Italian, “Here it is [the tram]. Come see me, and think about it. Good bye dear fellow.” Arrivederla, maestro […] E grazie: Italian, “Good bye, master. And thank you.”

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G 10:380

Artifano: Artifoni (G, correction). Di che? Scusi, eh? Tante belle cose!: Italian, “For what? Excuse me, eh? All the best!” gillies: gillie, aide to a Highland chief, Scotsman. Capel street library: see 62. The Woman in White: 1860 novel by Wilkie Collins (1824–89). Is he in love with that one, Marion?: Marian Halcombe, character in The Woman in White. Mary Cecil Haye: Mary Cecil Hay (1840–86), novelist in the same genre as Collins. Moypeny’s corner: R. W.

Moypeny, designer and embroiderer of art needlework and white wool depot, 52–53 Grafton Street. slab where Wolfe Tone’s statue was not: the foundation stone for Wolfe Tone’s statue was laid on St Stephen’s Green but the statue was never completed. Susy Nagle’s […] Shannon: basis in 1904 Dublin unknown. Twentyseven and six: 27 shillings and 6 pence. That gentleman from Sport: Lenehan. the Ormond: Ormond Hotel, 8 Upper Ormond Quay.

221 · “Wandering Rocks”

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G 10:400

G 10:420

Crotty: singer at the Gaiety Theatre. Ringabella: Ringabella Bay, south of Cork Harbour. Crosshaven: village on the south coast of Cork estuary. vesta: wooden match. council chamber of saint Mary’s abbey: the chapter house, the remnants of St Mary’s Abbey, used as a grain store in 1904. Silken Thomas: Thomas Fitzgerald, Earl of Kildare,

declared war on England. The old bank of Ireland: the Bank of Ireland was housed in St Mary’s Abbey before moving into the Irish Parliament building in 1803. original jews’ temple: the synagogue moved to St Mary’s Abbey in 1836. He rode down through Dame walk: Silken Thomas’s route across the city to St Mary’s Abbey.

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G 10:440

for didit read did it

G 10:460

floats: large flatbed wagons. carob and palm nut meal: late nineteenth-century cattle feed. O’Connor: transport company in Wexford, south of Dublin. Rathcoffey: town south of Dublin. Sallins: location of St Michael’s Anglican Church, west of Dublin. Fitzgeralds: descendants of Maurice FitzGerald (c.1110–76), a leader of the Anglo-Norman conquest of Ireland. gunpowder plot: a foiled plot by English Catholics and Guy Fawkes to blow up the House of Lords and assassinate James I and the royal family.

earl of Kildare after he set fire to Cashel cathedral: Gerald Fitzgerald (c.1456–1513) eighth earl of Kildare and grandfather of Silken Thomas, feuded with Archbishop Creagh in 1495 and burned St John’s Cathedral, Cashel, County Tipperary. Fitzgerald Mor: Mór, Irish, “great.” I was … Glasnevin this morning … poor little (G, inclusion). Turn Now On: as the order of acts often differed from programs Rochford invented a device to indicate onstage performers.

223 · “Wandering Rocks”

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G 10:480

G 10:500

Nisi Prius: Latin, “unless first.” costbag: accountant’s briefcase. Goulding, Collis and Ward: see 85. snuffling: show dislike or disdain. Tooraloo: goodbye. Crampton court: in central Dublin, south of Grattan Bridge. Dan Lowry’s musichall: Dan Lowrey (Joyce

misspelled it) owned the Empire Palace Theatre, 72 Dame Street. booky’s vest: vest with large pockets worn by bookies. the Dolphin: Dolphin hotel and restaurant, 9 Sycamore Street. for Jervis Street: Jervis Street Hospital and Charitable Infirmary, 14–20 Jervis Street.

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“Wandering Rocks” · 224

G 10:520

G 10:540

Lynam’s: bookie; not listed in Thom’s. Sceptre’s starting price: see Lenehan’s tip on Sceptre, 123. Marcus Tertius Moses: wholesale tea merchant, 59 Essex Street East. O’Neil’s clock: J. J. O’Neill, tea and wine merchant, 29 Essex Street East. After three: the Gold Cup ran at 3 p.m. in England; Dunsink time, in Dublin, was twenty-five minutes behind; the results were not telegraphed till 4 p.m. Temple bar: continuation of Essex Street East. The gates of the drive: offered a view of the Viceregal Lodge in Phoenix Park. Merchants’ arch: passage from Temple Bar to the south bank of the Liffey. the Bloom is on the

Rye: song by Edward Fitzball (1792–1873), music by Sir Henry Bishop (1786–1855). old one: HibernoEnglish, old woman. the metal bridge: Wellington, Liffey, or Ha’penny Bridge. Wellington quay: on the south bank of the Liffey, between Wellington and Grattan Bridges. Mangan’s: P. Mangan, pork butcher, 1–2 William Street South. late Fehrenbach’s: former butcher on Wellington Quay. Glencree reformatory: see 148. Boiled shirt affair: formal affair. sir Charles Cameron: (1830–1921) owner of newspapers in Dublin and Glasgow.

225 · “Wandering Rocks”

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G 10:560

G 10:580

Delahunt of Camden street: Joseph and Sylvester Delahunt, tea, wine, and spirit merchants, 42 and 92 Lower Camden Street. bottlewasher: general employee. blue o’clock: two o’clock. Featherbed Mountain: the Featherbed Pass in the Wicklow Mountains. car: jaunting car; see 70. Lo, the early beam of morning: quartet from The Siege of Rochelle (1835),

by Michael William Balfe, libretto by Edward Fitzball. cubit: unit of measurement, approximately a forearm’s length. gamey: plucky. great bear: Ursa Major. Hercules: constellation in the northern hemisphere. dragon: Draco, a constellation in the northern hemisphere. common or garden: garden variety, or commonplace.

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G 10:600

The Awful Disclosures of Maria Monk: book by Canadian Maria Monk (1816–49), allegedly, and fraudulently, exposing scandalous practices by nuns at the Hôtel Dieu in Montreal. Aristotle’s Masterpiece: an allegedly clinical, and mildly pornographic, book, not by Aristotle, that first appeared in 1694. Tales of the Ghetto by Leopold von Sacher Masoch: book by Sacher-Masoch (1835–95), first published in Germany

in 1885. shopman: Josh Strong, bookshop owner, 26 Wellington Quay. Fair Tyrants by James Lovebirch: invented title; James Lovebirch wrote works such as Les Cinq Fessées de Suzette (1910) (The Flagellation of Suzette [1925]). Sweets of Sin: fictional title. deshabillé: partly or scantily clothed. embonpoint: plumpness of body, from en bon point, French, “in good condition,” often meaning bosom.

227 · “Wandering Rocks”

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G 10:620

G 10:640

Crished!: Chrished! (G, correction). the building of the courts of chancery: the Four Courts, home of the high courts of Ireland, on Inns Quay. case in lunacy of Potterton: one of the cases before the Registrar on 16 June 1904, as reported by the Freeman’s

Journal. spat phlegm: puked phlegm (G, correction). Dillon’s auctionrooms: see 124. listening: loitering (G, correction). Bang of the lastlap bell: bell from the bicycle race in College Park.

350 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

G 10:660

G 10:680

William’s row: between Bachelors Walk and Middle Abbey Street. your uncle John the cornetplayer: John Goulding. Scotch house: pub; see 152.

“Wandering Rocks” · 228

229 · “Wandering Rocks”

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G 10:700

G 10:720

I’m going to show you a little trick: Stanislaus Joyce wrote that their father would preface threats to them with this announcement. where Jesus left the Jews: damned to hell, according to a doctrinaire interpretation. Parkgate: southeastern entrance to Phoenix Park. little sister Monica: St Monica’s Widows’ Alms House, run by the Sisters of Charity, 35–38 Belvedere Place. the sundial: at the

intersection of Bow Lane and James’s Street. James’s Gate: court on the north side of James’s Street. Pulbrook Robertson: Pulbrook, Robertson & Co., 5 Dane Street. Shackleton’s offices: Shackleton and Sons, flour millers and corn merchants, 35 James’s Street. Mr Crimmins: William C. Crimmins, tea, wine, and spirit merchant, 27–28 James’s Street, 61 Pimlico.

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“Wandering Rocks” · 230

G 10:740

G 10:760

Palmoil: bribery. Peter Kennedy, hairdresser: 48 James’s Street. Scott of Dawson street: William Scott & Co., military and merchant tailors, makers of riding breeches and habits, 2 Lower Sackville (now O’Connell) Street. Neary: Edward Neary, tailor for soldiers and sailors, 15 Anne Street South. Kildare street club: elite Anglo-Irish club. Hibernian Bank: 23–27 College Green. Carlisle bridge: originally, the O’Connell Bridge, named after Frederick Howard, fifth Earl of Carlisle (1748–1825). Knight of the road: salesman. The cup that cheers but not inebriates:

from George Berkeley’s Siris (1744) description of tar water, and William Cowper’s (1731–1800) description of tea in The Task (1785). North wall and sir John Rogerson’s quay: the easternmost quays of the Liffey. Returned Indian officier: Kernan did not serve in India. Is that Lambert’s brother over the way, Sam?: Ned Lambert’s brother. Down there Emmet was hanged, drawn and quartered: Emmet was hanged and beheaded outside St Catherine’s Church, on Thomas Street.

231 · “Wandering Rocks”

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G 10:780

G 10:800

in her noddy. Bad times those were. Well, well. Over and done with. Great topers too. Fourbottle men. Let me see (G, inclusion); noddy: two-wheeled hackney-carriage; toper: hard drinker. saint Michan’s?: Emmet’s grave is unknown. Guinness’s visitors’ waitingroom: 1 Watling Street. Dublin Distillers Company’s stores: 21–32 Watling Street. outside ear: outside car (G, correction); jaunting car. Tipperary bosthoon: Hiberno-English, idle, good-for-nothing. Island street: parallel to the Liffey. Times of the troubles: the Rebellion of 1798. those reminiscences of sir Jonah Barrington: (c.1756–1834) Irish judge, author

of Personal Sketches of His Own Time (1827–32), Historic Memoirs of Ireland (1809, 1833). Gaming at Daly’s: Daly’s Club, associated with the Irish Parliament. Lord Edward Fitzgerald […] Moira house: Edward Fitzgerald’s wife was given refuge at the Moira House. that sham squire: Francis Higgins; see 122. They rose in dark and evil days […] Ingram: from John Kells Ingram’s (1823–1907) poem, “The Memory of the Dead” (1843). At the siege […] father fall: from the song “The Croppy Boy”; the rebels were routed at Ross, County Wexford, by British forces. Pembroke quay: presently Ellis Quay.

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G 10:820

G 10:840

cinnabar: bright red color; mercuric sulfide. Old Russell: Thomas Russell, lapidary and gem cutter, 57 Fleet Street. Grandfather ape gloating on a stolen hoard: after Yeats’s “The Eaters of Precious Stones,” from The Celtic Twilight (1893). Antisthenes: early Cynic; see 142. Orient and immortal […] to everlasting: Traherne’s Eden; see 38. powerhouse: Dublin Corporation Electric Station, 49–56 Fleet Street. large and keeps famous time: at William Walsh, clockmaker, 1 Bedford Row. You say right […] ’twas so, indeed: from Hamlet (ii.ii.415–16).

Clohissey’s window: bookseller, 10–11 Bedford Row. 1860 print of Heenan boxing Sayers: image of a notorious bare-knuckle match between Englishman Tom Sayers and American J. C. Heenan. square hats: silk, or stovepipe, hats. The Irish Beekeeper: journal published at 15 Crown Street. Life and Miracles of the Curé of Arts: (1865) by the Abbé Alfred Monnin. Pocket Guide to Killarney: fictional, though Killarney is a well-known tourist destination. Stephano Dedalo, alumno optimo palmam ferenti: Latin, “To Stephen Dedalus, the best student, bearing the palm.”

233 · “Wandering Rocks”

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G 10:860

G 10:880

Donnycarney: former village, now north Dublin suburb on the Malahide Road. vespers: prayers said around 6 p.m., part of the Divine Office. Eight and ninth book of Moses: alleged “lost” books of Moses, not part of the Pentateuch. Seal of King David: six-pointed star, emblem of Judaism. Se el yilo […] Sanktus! Amen: macaronic charm from the Eight and Ninth Books of Moses, “Little heaven of blessed femininity, love only me. Holy! Amen.” Peter Salanka: actually Pater (father) Salanka, “prior of a

famous Spanish Trappist Monastery” according to the German version of the Eight and Ninth Books. Down, baldynoddle, or we’ll wool your wool: humorous version of Descende, calve, ut ne nimium decalveris; see 40. nonesuch Charles: Charles I (1600–49), second Stuart king of England; nonesuch: unparalleled. pinchbeck: of deceptive appearance and small value. Chardenal’s French primer: C. A. Chardenal, The Standard French Primer (London, 1877). Agenbite: remorse; see 16.

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“Wandering Rocks” · 234

G 10:900

Reddy and Daughter’s: Richard Reddy, antique dealer, 19 Lower Ormond Quay; later Reddy and Daughter at 20 Lower Ormond Quay. Father Cowley brushed his moustache: priests of the time were clean shaven. gombeen: Hiberno-English, usurer. Reuben of that

ilk: Reuben J. Dodd. bockedy: Hiberno-English, lame, defective. cutaway: type of coat, its hem cut back in a curve. slops: loose trousers. Fathes: Father (G, correction).

235 · “Wandering Rocks”

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G 10:920

G 10:940

jewman: tailor; term of abuse. basso profundo: Italian, “deep bass voice.” James and Charles Kennedy’s, rectifiers: wholesale liquor dealers and distillers, 31–32 Mary’s Abbey, 150–51 Capel Street. Geraldines: the Fitzgeralds; see 222. Tholsel: Irish, “toll collector’s hut,” built around 1311 on Skinner’s Row, demolished in 1791. the ford of hurdles: Dublin in Irish is Baile Átha Cliath (Town of the Ford of Hurdles). subsheriff’s office: City of Dublin Sheriff’s Office, 30 Upper Ormond Quay. Rock: see 162. Lobengula: (c.1833–94), Zulu king of the Matabele, who died

fighting the English. Lynchehaun: James Lynchehaun (c.1858–c.1937), imprisoned for attempted murder of a woman on Achill Island but escaped to America and returned in disguise; model for Christy in Synge’s Playboy of the Western World (1907). Bodega: wine and spirit merchants and importers, 41a Dame Street. on the right lay: on the right track. shraums: Hiberno-English, buildup of mucus about the eyes. distrained: forced to pay through the seizure of property. 29 Windsor avenue: the Joyces lived here from 1898 to 1899. Barabbas: see 91. Jacko: generic name for a monkey.

358 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Wandering Rocks” · 236

G 10:960

G 10:980

filberts: hazelnuts. Castleyard gate: entrance on Cork Hill to Dublin Castle. Boyd?: William A. Boyd, general secretary of the Dublin YMCA, 11 Brighton Square, Rathgar. Touch me not: “don’t ask for money”; also Jesus, John 20:17. the list: of contributors to Dignam’s family. Cork hill: slope from Castle Street to Dame and Lord Edward Streets. City Hall: Dublin’s municipal government, next to the Castle. Alderman Cowley: fictional. Councillor Abraham Lyon: member for Clontarf West Ward, 1903–4. The castle car […]

upper Exchange street: tram (streetcar) route that passes by the Castle. Mail office: Dublin Evening Mail, daily newspaper, 37–38 Parliament Street. there is much kindness in the jew: from The Merchant of Venice (i.iii.154). Jimmy Henry: James J. Henry, assistant town clerk, City Hall. Kavanagh’s: James Kavanagh, tea, wine, and spirit merchant, 27 Parliament Street, 42 Wentworth Place; also a justice of the peace. la Maison Claire: Court Dressmaker; see 159. the liberties: poor area in south-central Dublin.

237 · “Wandering Rocks”

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G 10:1000

for Wise read Wyse

G 10:1020

Micky Anderson’s watches: watchmaking shop, 30 Parliament Street. Henry Clay: cigar brand named after an American politician. conscript fathers: referring to the Dublin City Council after Patres Conscripti, the members of the Roman Senate. Hell open to christians: after the tract Hell Opened to Christians; To Caution Them from Entering into It, by Giovanni Pietro Pinamonti (1632–1703). Where

was the marshal: city marshal John Howard Parnell. old Barlow the macebearer: John Barlow, “Mace Bearer and Officer of Commons”; mace: emblem of mayoral authority carried in official processions. Hutchinson, the lord mayor: the Right Honorable Joseph Hutchinson, lord mayor of Dublin, 1904–5. Llandudno: seaside resort in Wales. locum tenens: Latin, “holding place”; an office-holder.

360 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Wandering Rocks” · 238

G 10:1040

G 10:1060

pasterns: part of horse’s foot; here, possibly a leather band around it. translated: transferred, after the movement of bishops from one seat to another. a working corner: a concentration of pieces intended to develop control of the board in chess. mélange:

French, “mixture”; here, a mixture of coffee, milk, cream, and sugar. D. B. C.: Dublin Bread Company; see 156. newbought book: Douglas Hyde’s Love Songs of Connaught.

239 · “Wandering Rocks”

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for How read Now

G 10:1080

14 Nelson street: Private Hotel, Mary McManus, proprietor; Nelson Street intersects with Eccles Street. England expects: Nelson at Trafalgar; see 216. Wandering Ængus: Yeats’s poem; god of love, beauty, and youth; see 206. idée fixe: French, “fixed idea”; obsession. visions of hell: see Chapter 3 in Portrait. the Attic note: the spirit of fifth-century bce Athens. note of Swinburne […] white death and the ruddy birth: from Swinburne’s “Genesis,” in Songs before Sunrise (1871), in which creation and

destruction negate one another. Professor Pokorny of Vienna: Julius Pokorny (1887–1970), Celtic scholar in Vienna (1914–21), and at the University of Berlin from 1921. no trace of hell in ancient Irish myth: from Pokorny’s Die älteste Lyrik der grünen Insel. He is going to write something in ten years: from John Keats’s “Sleep and Poetry” (1817); Joyce began writing Ulysses in 1914. new Wapping street: on the north bank of the Liffey. Benson’s ferry: Benson Street, North Wall Quay.

362 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Wandering Rocks” · 240

for Bridgewater read Bridgwater

G 10:1100

G 10:1120

with bricks: imported to Dublin from Bridgewater, north of London. Sewell’s yard: horse repository, commission, and livery establishment, 60 Lower Mount Street. Law Smith’s house: Philip H. Law Smith, barrister, 14 Clare Street. Merrion square: grand Georgian garden square. College Park: Trinity College’s playing fields. Mr Lewis Werner’s: surgeon oculist, Mater Misericordiae Hospital and Royal Victoria Eye and Ear Hospital, 31 Merrion Square North. corner of Wilde’s: Sir William and Lady Wilde, Oscar Wilde’s parents, lived at 1 Merrion Square. Elijah’s name […] Metropolitan Hall: John Alexander Dowie’s

poster; see 144. pleasance: secluded garden attached to a mansion. duke’s lawn: of Leinster House, built in 1745 for James Fitzgerald (1722–73), First Duke of Leinster. Coactus volui: Latin, “under compulsion, I was willing”; from Justinian’s (483–565) Digest of Roman law. thewless: listless. God’s curse on you: Deuteronomy 27:18. nor I am: than I am. Ruggy O’Donohoe’s: International Bar, 23 Wicklow Street. uncle Barney: Bernard Corrigan, Paddy Dignam’s brother-in-law. Tunney’s: William J. Tunney, grocer, 8 Bridge Street in Ringsend. Madame Doyle: 33 Wicklow Street. puckers: boxers, from poc, Irish, “sudden blow.”

241 · “Wandering Rocks”

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G 10:1140

G 10:1160

putting up their props: getting ready to fight; props, “arms.” Portobello: barracks; see 165. two bar: slang for two shillings. do a bunk: to sneak off. mots: Hiberno-English, girls, women. in the packets of fags: Marie Kendall featured on a picture card included in cigarette packs. Fitzsimons: Robert Fitzsimmons (1862–1917), English world champion heavyweight

boxer. for science: according to serious study. Jem Corbet: James John “Gentleman Jim” Corbet (1866–1933), American world champion heavyweight, lost to Fitzsimmons in 1897. pair of kicks: shoes. No Sandymount tram: trams left from Nelson’s Pillar every ten minutes in the daytime. butty: HibernoEnglish, heavy, awkward.

364 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Wandering Rocks” · 242

G 10:1180

G 10:1200

father Conroy: B. Conroy, curate-in-charge, Mary, Star of the Sea, Sandymount. lady Dudley […] Mrs Paget, Miss de Courcy: did not attend the bazaar; their names evoke Henry William Paget (1768–1854), Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and Sir John de Courcy, twelfth-century Norman invader. Gerald Ward, A. D. C.: aide-de-camp; Gerald Ernest Francis Ward (b.1877), the lord lieutenant’s youngest brother. Kingsbridge: Seán Huston Bridge. Queen’s and

Whitworth bridges: Queen Maeve Bridge and Father Mathew Bridge. Mr Dudley White: barrister, 29 Kildare Street. Arran Quay: on the north bank of the Liffey. Mrs M. E. White’s, the pawnbroker’s: 32 Arran Quay. Richmond bridge: O’Donovan Rossa Bridge. King’s windows: printer and law stationer, 36 Upper Ormond Quay. Wood quay: on the south bank of the Liffey. Tom Devan’s office: Tom Devin, Dublin Corporation Cleansing Department, 15–16

Wood Quay. crossblind: see 125. Cahill’s corner: letterpress printers, lithographers, and bookbinders, 35–37 Great Strand Street. advowsons: right to appoint ecclesiastical offices. Roger Greene’s office: solicitor, 11 Wellington Quay. Dollard’s: Printing House, account-book manufacturer, 2–5 Wellington Quay. Catesby’s: of Glasgow, Scotland, manufacturer of cork linoleum.

243 · “Wandering Rocks”

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G 10:1220

G 10:1240 for tanned read tan

Spring’s: house agents and furniture warehouse, 11 Upper Granby Row, 15–18 Upper Dorset Street. Lundy Foot’s: tobacco manufacturers, 26 Parliament Street. Kavanagh’s winerooms: 27 Parliament Street; see 236. G. C. V. O.: Grand Cross of the Victorian Order. Micky Anderson’s: 30 Parliament Street. Henry and James’s: clothiers, 1–3 Parliament Street. Henry, dernier cri James: dernier cri, French, “the last word” or latest craze; allusion to Henry James (1843–

1916), American novelist. Dame gate: eastern gate on Dublin’s medieval wall, east of Parliament Street on Dame’s Street. Fowne’s street: intersects Dame Street and becomes College Green. Commercial Buildings: 41a Dame Street. hunter watch: sports watch with a metal hinged cover over the dial. King Billy’s horse: equestrian statue of William III, across from Trinity College. Ponsonby’s corner: Edward Ponsonby, law and general bookseller, 116 Grafton Street.

flagon: Hiberno-English, flag. Pigott’s: musicalinstrument merchants, 112 Grafton Street. provost’s wall: runs along Grafton and Nassau Streets. socks with skyblue clocks: from “Seaside Girls,” see 60; the clock on Trinity College’s front entrance has a blue face. My girl’s a Yorkshire girl: popular 1908 song by C. W. Murphy (1875–1913) and Dan Lipton (1873–1935).

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“Wandering Rocks” · 244

G 10:1260

G 10:1280

being discoursed: given forth, musical sounds. M. C. Green […] W. C. Huggard: competitors in the Bicycle and Harrier Club race in College Park; see 227. Finn’s hotel: M. and R. Finn, private hotel and restaurant, 1–2 Leinster Street; place of work of Nora Barnacle in 1904. Mr E. M. Solomons […] viceconsulate: Maurice Elias Solomon (1832–1922), optician, manufacturer of spectacles and hearing instruments, 19 Nassau Street; Austro-Hungarian vice-consul. postern: back entrance. Hornblower: porter, Trinity south gate; see 83. tallyho cap: black peaked cap, part of Trinity College’s porters’ uniform. Mercer’s hospital: see

174. Lower Mount street: continuation of Merrion Square. Broadbent’s: J. S. Broadbent, fruit seller, 2 Lower Mount Street. Royal Canal bridge: Lower Mount Street leads to the Grand Canal, not the Royal Canal. Pembroke township: southeast of Dublin. Haddington road corner: Haddington Road intersects Northumberland Road south of the Canal. golden chain: mayoral golden chain, worn for ceremonial purposes. house said to have been admired by the late queen: Queen Victoria and Prince Albert visited Dublin in August 1849.

11 · “SIRENS” Katherine O’Callaghan

“First you will reach the Sirens, who bewitch all passersby. If anyone goes near them in ignorance, and listens to their voices, that man will never travel to his home, and never make his wife and children happy to have him back with them again.”1

“Sirens” is the sonic omphalos of Ulysses, as well as the central point in the book’s temporal map. This “musical” episode takes place at 4 p.m. at Ormond Quay on the river Liffey 1  Homer, The Odyssey, trans. Emily Wilson (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2018), 302.

in Dublin’s city center. Blazes Boylan is due to knock on the door of 7 Eccles Street for his rendezvous with Molly Bloom, but first he visits the Ormond Hotel. He is followed, somewhat surreptitiously, by Leopold Bloom. Bloom’s emotional conflict is evident through his actions; he finds himself compelled to witness Boylan setting off to see Molly and goes to great lengths to distract his mind from what he knows will now occur. The narrative lens, or, more frequently, its “microphone,” remains with Bloom in the Ormond Hotel, although we are also privy to the sounds of Boylan’s jingling journey on the jarvey car. The “Sirens”

17 Grattan Bridge and Ormond Quay

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18 Miss Ellaline Terriss

episode alerts the reader to pay attention to how many incidents in this book are “heard not seen” (251; 11:240). Bloom is at the core of the episode, the “tuning fork” 2 around which all else swirls. He must navigate the dangers of both sirens and suitors to emerge as the “unconquered hero” (254; 11:342). The “Sirens” episode is riven in two sections; readers first encounter a sequence of words and phonemes, sound effects which do not obey the rules of “cutanddry grammar and goahead plot.”3 The order to “Begin!” (246; 11:63) is then issued and the episode proper follows, in which the initial fragments can be found scattered and embellished. The main body of the episode opens with the sound of iron-shod horses’ hooves. The noise created by the viceregal cavalcade, a procession of

2  Richard Ellmann, Ulysses on the Liffey (London: Faber & Faber, 1972), 103. 3  James Joyce, Letter to Harriet Shaw Weaver (L III 146). Joyce is describing Finnegans Wake.

c­arriages ­including the representative of the British crown in Ireland, Lord Dudley, infiltrates the bar of the Ormond Hotel. This is an indicator of a central aspect of the episode: an exploration of the manner in which sound travels, and of what can be heard where. The “steelyringing” (245; 11:1) of horse hooves causes the barmaids to peer out the window and comment on the passing carriages. This event has already been described at the end of “Wandering Rocks,” the previous episode: “Above the crossblind of the Ormond hotel, gold by bronze, Miss Kennedy’s head by Miss Douce’s head watched and admired” (242; 10:1197–99). In that episode, the cavalcade continues on its journey through the city and onto its destination in Ballsbridge. In “Sirens” the clock is rewound slightly, to pause at one of the many places through which the cavalcade has passed, and to witness and overhear what occurs after the sound has erupted in the environment, and the viceregal party has moved on. Restarted, the tape now plays from a reverse angle, which is to say from the differing perspective of the bar: “Bronze by gold, miss Douce’s head by miss Kennedy’s head, over the crossblind of the Ormond bar heard the viceregal hoofs go by, ringing steel” (246–47; 11:64–65). Trojan work in the early decades of Joycean criticism identified Joyce’s own musical tastes and interests, the numerous musical works alluded to in his text, and the themes which are intensified by their inclusion.4 Critics and readers have also pondered about the ­“meaning” of the opening section of the episode: is it the overture to an opera? The tuning up of an orchestra? The bones of sailors lured to their death? Or a medieval canon whereby written 4  In particular, see Zack Bowen, Musical Allusions in the Works of James Joyce: Early Poetry through “Ulysses” (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1974); Zack Bowen, “The Bronzegold Sirensong: A Musical Analysis of the ‘Sirens’ Episode in Joyce’s Ulysses,” in Bloom’s Old Sweet Song: Essays on Joyce and Music, ed. Zack Bowen (Tampa: University Press of Florida, 1995), 25–76; Matthew J. Hodgart and Mabel Worthington, Song in the Works of James Joyce (New York: Columbia University Press for Temple University, 1959); Timothy Martin, Joyce and Wagner: A Study of Influence (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991).

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11 Ormond Quay and Grattan Bridge

instructions were given on how to ­construct a piece of music from a single notated part? I have argued elsewhere that the opening might be read as a musical score, which is then given a performance (one of many possible performances) in the main body of the text.5 Formal 5  Katherine O’Callaghan, “Reading Music, Performing Text: Interpreting the Song of the Sirens,”

considerations such as whether Joyce was truly attempting to create a fuga per canonem,6 in line in Bloomsday 100: Essays on Ulysses, ed. Morris Beja and Anne Fogarty (Tampa: University Press of Florida, 2004), 137–49. 6  Joyce wrote to Harriet Shaw Weaver that the episode contained “all the eight regular parts of a fuga per canonem: and I did not know in what other way to

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with the schemata ­designation that he released, have been explored in depth.7 The release of the 2002 Joyce papers, now lodged in the National Library of Ireland, encouraged genetic scholars8 and others to identify the source of Joyce’s notion of the term.9 Others have suggested that Joyce was attempting to re-produce or echo other musical forms such as sonata, musical comedy, or theme and variations.10 A stumbling block in all of these readings concerns the reluctance of the musical art to bend to the critical written voice. Nonetheless, critics have describe the seductions of music beyond which Ulysses travels” (L I 129). 7  Lawrence L. Levin, “The Sirens Episode as Music: Joyce’s Experiment in Prose Polyphony,” James Joyce Quarterly 3:1 (1965), 12–24, www.jstor .org/stable/25486536. Accessed July 29, 2020; Nadya Zimmerman, “Musical Form as Narrator: The Fugue of the Sirens in James Joyce’s Ulysses,” Journal of Modern Literature 26:1 (2002), 108–18, www.jstor.org/ stable/3831654. Accessed July 29, 2020; David W. Cole, “Fugal Structures in the ‘Sirens’ Episode of Ulysses,” Modern Fiction Studies 19:2 (1973), 221–26, www.jstor .org/stable/26279015. Accessed July 29, 2020; Patrick Milian, “Bronze by Goldenhair: Music as Language in Chamber Music and ‘Sirens,’” Joyce Studies Annual, 2016, 175–205, www.jstor.org/stable/26288844. Accessed July 29, 2020; Heath Lees, “The Introduction to ‘Sirens’ and the ‘Fuga per Canonem,’” James Joyce Quarterly 22:1 (1984), 39–54, www.jstor.org/stable/25476630. Accessed August 1, 2020. 8  “Genetic” criticism is a form of literary criticism that examines the process of literary creation through the study of manuscripts, notebooks, and other preparatory materials, as well as, or instead of, the literary text itself. 9  The Joyce papers were initially explored by Daniel Ferrer in “What Song the Sirens Sang … Is No Longer Beyond All Conjecture: A Preliminary Description of the New ‘Proteus’ and ‘Sirens’ Manuscripts,” James Joyce Quarterly 50:1/2 (2012), 319–33, www.jstor.org/ stable/24598787. Accessed July 29, 2020. Further work was published by Susan Brown, “The Mystery of the Fuga Per Canonem Solved,” in Joycean Unions, European Joyce Studies (Brill, Rodopi, 2013), 173–93, and Michelle Witen, James Joyce and Absolute Music (London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2018). 10  Scott Ordway, “A Dominant Boylan: Music, Meaning and Sonata Form in the ‘Sirens’ Episode of Ulysses,” James Joyce Quarterly, 46:3–4 (Spring/Summer 2009), 481–96; Jack W. Weaver, Joyce’s Music and Noise: Theme and Variation in His Writing (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1998).

produced compelling “intermedial” readings, seeking to broaden and deepen our ability to discuss the crucial intersection between music and text, and in order to analyze Joyce’s success in conveying music through language.11 Recent critical attention has suggested that Joyce was more interested and had more knowledge of contemporary developments in the musical world than was previously assumed.12 “Sirens” is an experiment in the rendering of acoustic and musical content in prose. It amplifies the soundscape of the entire book. Its sonic abundance encourages the reader to “listen back” to the sound effects in earlier episodes, and to pay more attention to those yet to come. A multitude of sound effects are thus highlighted, and our attention is drawn to those odd anonymous whistles which answer Buck Mulligan’s whistle on the first page of “Telemachus” (3; 1:24–27), to the “third apart” overtone of the bells of St George’s “following through the air” in “Calypso” (67; 4:549), to the “Far away donkey bray” of the “Hades” episode (106; 6:837), and forward, to “far in the grey a bell chimed” at Sandymount (364; 13:1286), to the playing of the pianola which brings Stephen and Bloom together in “Circe” ­ histle of the (449; 15:1268),13 and on to the w train which Molly Bloom incorporates into her 11  Stuart Allen, “‘Thinking Strictly Prohibited’: Music, Language, and Thought in ‘Sirens,’” Twentieth Century Literature 53:4 (2007), 442–59, www.jstor.org/ stable/20479826. Accessed July 29, 2020; Judith Paltin, “Music, Intermediality and Shock in Ulysses,” James Joyce Quarterly 53:3–4 (2018), 115–32; Brad Bucknell, “‘Sirens’ and the Problem of Literary and Musical Meaning,” in Literary Modernism and Musical Aesthetics: Pater, Pound, Joyce and Stein (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 2001), 121–61; Derek Attridge, “Joyce’s Noises,” Oral Tradition 24:2 (October 2009), 471–84. 12  David Herman, “‘Sirens’ after Schönberg,” James Joyce Quarterly 31:4 (1994), 473–94, www.jstor.org/ stable/25473587. Accessed July 29, 2020; Jonathan McCreedy, “James Joyce and Experimental Music in Zurich and Paris: The Modern ‘Sirens’ Fugue, Acoustic Harmony Theory and Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring,” Proceedings of the ESIDRP Conference 2020, 159–75. 13  Katherine O’Callaghan, “‘That’s the Music of the Future’: Joyce, Modernism, and the ‘Old Irish Tonality,’” in Essays on Music and Language in Modernist Literature: Musical Modernism (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2018), 32–47.

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monologue in “Penelope” (706; 18:596). What we begin to recognize from this display of proleptic echoes is that Joyce rarely represents a sound in isolation. Indeed, the “extracted” sound effects of the disjointed phrases of the opening section of “Sirens” are a deliberate anomaly, not a rule. Joyce is profoundly conscious of how sound travels in its environment, where it comes and returns from, where it echoes, how it affects the surroundings in which sound reverberates. In this sense, music in this episode fulfills Walter Pater’s observation that “all arts aspire to the condition of music,” that condition being the unity of content and form.14 Music is the thematic content of this episode, but is also evidence of the episode’s technique and form that guide the manner in which we read the book as a whole. Joyce’s biographer, Richard Ellmann, wrote that “For the Sirens episode Joyce quizzed Philipp Jarnach one day about sirens, from those who inhabit the Mediterranean rocks to those who are found in factories” (J J 439). The sirens of Ulysses range from those that falsely promise that all will be well to those that emanate danger signals. Joyce’s abiding interest in music, and in the power of prose to convey music, is a natural fit with Homer’s Sirens, mythical beings who sing of all that has been and all that will come. Appearing in Book 12 of the Odyssey, their voices have the power to lure men to their death. Pondering on the unfairness of the human condition – “Let people get fond of each other: lure them on. Then tear asunder. Death” (266; 11:802–4) – Bloom concludes that “All songs” are on that theme. The Sirens are emblematic of seduction which is followed by gruesome death: “lure them on. Then tear asunder.” Bloom uses music to distract himself, “Wish they’d sing more. Keep my mind off” (269; 11:914), but he is also aware of its dangers. The Sirens are those who should not be listened to and yet in the sonically charged opening fragments readers are warned to “Listen!” (246; 11:33). We have entered the arena of the aural, in line with the Linati/Gilbert schematic designation of the 14  Walter Pater, The Renaissance: Studies in Art and Poetry (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press), 106.

“ear” for this episode. Miss Mina Kennedy and Miss Lydia Douce are the most overt “Sirens” of the episode. The barmaids are evidently nautical creatures, they sit behind a coral bar, listen to the sound of a conch, and they have been lying on the beach “tempting poor simple males” (250; 11:201). Both names suggest musical modes: Mina referring to the minor key, Lydia to the Lydian scale. Lydia’s introduction to the reader “Miss Douce’s head” (246; 11:64) also evokes the phrase “Medusa’s head,” a creature capable of petrifying a man.15 Our barmaids’ fatal powers are less literal: “He’s killed looking back” (247; 11:77). Indeed, the barmaids are far more benign than the sirens of ancient Greece, who were originally depicted as bird-like (the Bird-girl of Joyce’s Portrait has Siren-like qualities [P 144]). The paired bronze and gold of Lydia’s and Mina’s hair has been read as a reference to Joyce’s bronze medal in singing at Dublin’s Feis Ceoil, in contrast to the legendary tenor John McCormack’s gold medal. More r­ ecently the bronze, gold, and hoofirons have been read as a reference to “the store room at the end of [Penelope’s] house, where her husband’s treasures of gold, bronze, and wrought iron were kept.”16 This interpretation further links “Sirens” with Books 21 and 22 of the Odyssey, in which Odysseus must confront Penelope’s suitors. There are other Sirens lurking in the shadows of the episode. Molly Bloom may lie ­remotely in her bed at the end of Ulysses, but her metaphysical presence in the bar is palpable. She draws the attention of the men who gossip about her (258; 11:485–515). She lures both Boylan (physically) and Bloom (emotionally) towards her. Bloom is a Siren too, but closer to those “found in factories” issuing 15  This chapter was written during the abrupt move to remote teaching in the strange spring of 2020. I am extremely grateful for the manner in which the students of my 468 James Joyce course at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, responded to initial drafts of this work, providing feedback and suggestions. The resonance of the “medusa’s head” emerged during one of those discussions. 16  Andrew Warren, “How to Listen to ‘Sirens’: Narrative Distraction at the Ormond Hotel,” James Joyce Quarterly 50:3 (2013), 655–74. doi:10.1353/ jjq.2013.0009.

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distress signals, like the struck tuning fork of the episode, perhaps only perceptible to the readers. This sense of movement as a tension between two places or people is exemplified in Joyce’s trope of a “call and response,”17 the setting up of an antiphony, a back and forth between two voices. In “Sirens,” the sounding of a tuning fork issuing a “longindying” call is responded to by the crescendo of the tap of a piano tuner’s stick as he approaches the Ormond bar. It is not sound alone which operates in this way in Joyce’s texts. Smells, colors, that which can affect the senses, move through time and space. In “Nausicaa,” Bloom ponders on the movement of perfume: “Mysterious thing too. Why did I smell it only now? Took its time in coming like herself, slow but sure. Suppose it’s ever so many millions of tiny grains blown across” (357; 13:1015–17). Even color has the power to create alterations in its wake. The episode’s opulent gold and bronze color scheme, its gilt mirrors and sunburnt barmaids, are more reminiscent of Trieste’s Caffè San Marco, than a bar in 1904 Dublin. The modernist tone is also conveyed through Joyce’s careful choice of color. The barmaids admire the color scheme of the viceroy’s wife, Lady Dudley’s outfit, “pearl grey and eau de Nil” (247; 11:67). Eau de Nil, along with “ivory, pale gray and other stone colors”18 became fashionable in modernist Paris’s period of “Egyptomania,”19 a reaction to the “hypersaturated” colors of the late nineteenth century.20 The color “a lightgreenish hue, more saturated than celadon, less 17  This antiphonal trope can be found throughout Joyce’s works. See Katherine O’Callaghan, “Mapping the Call from Afar: The Echo of Leitmotifs in James Joyce’s Literary Landscape,” in Making Space in James Joyce, ed. Valérie Bénéjam and John Bishop (Abingdon: Routledge, 2011). 18  Katy Kelleher, “Eau de Nil, the Light-Green color of Egypt-Obsessed Europe,” Paris Review, February 13, 2018. www.theparisreview.org/blog/2018/02/13/eau-denil-light-green-color-egypt-obsessed-europe/. Accessed November 11, 2021. 19  Joyce makes explicit connections with Egypt in the episode: “Fair one of Egypt teased and sorted in the till” (255; 11;383). 20  Kelleher, “Eau de Nil.”

gray than sage”21 is projected from the imperial cavalcade and absorbed into the narrative. This imperial presence infiltrates even the shadows in the bar: “slow cool dim seagreen sliding depth of shadow, eau de Nil” (257; 11:465); “By the sandwichbell in screening shadow, Lydia her bronze and rose, a lady’s grace, gave and withheld: as in cool glaucous eau de Nil Mina to tankards two her pinnacles of gold” (262; 11:660–62). The shadow of eau de Nil seems capable of drowning even the Siren barmaids themselves as “they pined in depth of ocean shadow” (258; 11:516). The word “glaucous,” which does not distinguish between blue and green and is associated with gleaming rather than shadow, is itself Homeric.22 In this “torn-asunder” episode, Joyce explores whether and how music can be ­conveyed in prose: this is his musico-literary laboratory. A sentimental and fatalistic nationalism is indulged in by the bar patrons who hold a session around a grand piano; only Pat the deaf waiter and Bloom, hand-bound like Odysseus, can escape. The ­tittering response of the barmaids belies the impact of imperial rule on the Dublin citizens as depicted in the episode as a whole: the Sirens bar is saturated in anticolonial sentiment. In this way Joyce sets the context for the more aggressive nationalism of the “Cyclops” episode which follows. In contrast, the musical world of 1904 Dublin is depicted in all its democratic idiosyncrasies: music-hall and street ballads take their place beside European opera; the residents of the bar are musically literate and knowledgeable. Bloom, himself well versed in music, sensitive to the fact that the piano has been tuned, remains bound to the world of words: he covertly 21  Kelleher, “Eau de Nil.” 22  Katy Kelleher, “Glaucous, the Greeny Blue of Epic Poetry and Succulents,” Paris Review, December 12, 2007. https://www.theawl.com/2017/12/glaucous-thegreeny-blue-of-epic-poetry-and-succulents/. Accessed November 11, 2021. Kelleher adds: “The origin of this word can be traced all the way back to Homer, who used glaukos to describe the color of water, the color of eyes, the color of leaves, and the color of honey. It’s often translated as ‘gleaming,’ which reflects the fact that this word wasn’t really about color, but rather the reflective properties of the object and the texture and movement of its surface.”

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writes to his “pen-friend” Martha, while the aria “M’Appari” from Friedrich von Flotow’s opera Martha is performed: “coincidence,” he thinks (263; 11:713). There are minor musical performances: the laughter of the barmaids “signals to each other, high piercing notes” (249; 11:160–61); “he blew through the flue two husky fifenotes” (250; 11:217–18); “Tink to her pity cried a diner’s bell” (252; 11:286). Although there are numerous references and calls for various pieces, only two songs are performed in their entirety in the bar: Simon Dedalus, Stephen’s father, sings “M’Appari,” and Ben Dollard sings the patriotic Irish ballad “The Croppy Boy.” Dedalus is the central ­music-maker and instigator of music-making. He is the first to approach the coffin-like grand piano, opening the musical session to follow with a gentle press (a repetition of his pressing of Miss Douce’s hand) of a muffled chord. It is also Dedalus who strikes the tuning fork left by the piano tuner earlier in the day, sending out a repeated “Longer in dying call” (253; 11:316). He then begins to play the ballad “Goodbye sweetheart goodbye” on the piano, and although it is not sung (“A voiceless song”; 253; 11:321), the performance is represented on the page by the unsung lyrics interspersed throughout the narrative of several pages: “The bright stars fade … the morn is breaking” (253; 11:320–22). The performance is paralleled with a flirting scene between Lydia Douce and Lenehan, who acts on ­behalf of Boylan. Lydia’s performance, a smack of her garter against her thigh, comes at the climax of the song, and as the song ends on the line “Sweetheart, goodbye!” (256; 11:425) Boylan impatiently stages his exit. Such moments support Zack Bowen’s argument that the episode is written in the style of a musical comedy.23 Dedalus’s “vamping” at the piano entices others over to the musical realm and Ben Dollard makes a stalled attempt to sing “Love and War,” which prompts the repetition of a well-known anecdote concerning a concert night and a lack of trousers. Bloom’s involvement in the event evokes a string of memories 23  Zack Bowen, “Music as Comedy in Ulysses,” in Bloom’s Old Sweet Song: Essays on Joyce and Music, ed. Zack Bowen (Tampa: University Press of Florida, 1995), 124–34.

from that morning in the Bloom household. Associations which could only belong to Bloom and Molly are somehow wafting into the men’s discussion: “Mrs Marion met him pike hoses. Smell of burn of Paul de Kock. Nice name he” (258; 11:500–1). It does not a­ ppear that Bloom is overhearing the conversation about him and his wife; in fact, for Bloom, listening in the next room, the song has spontaneously provoked the memory of the same concert in his mind. Richie Goulding (the uncle of Stephen Dedalus), who is sitting across the table from Bloom, whistles the tune of “Tutto è sciolto” or “All is Lost” from Vincenzo Bellini’s opera La Sonnambula. The trope of sleep-walking is intensified with messages of how one can be lured into danger, even into the hangman’s noose if one’s eyes are shut. The whistled fragment is represented by Bloom’s internal verbal description of the musical line: “Richie cocked his lips apout. A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all. A thrush. A throstle. His breath, birdsweet, good teeth he’s proud of, fluted with plaintive woe. Is lost. Rich sound. Two notes in one there” (261; 11:630–33). The sound of Rich is “rich.” He is the siren-bird now: cock, thrush, birdsweet, and Joyce connects to another folkloric harbinger of death: the Irish banshee who wails to prophesize an imminent death in the family. Music itself is magnetic, drawing voices and attraction. When “the harping chords of [the] prelude closed. A chord longdrawn, e­ xpectant drew a voice away” (262; 11:663–64). The voice which emerges is Dedalus’s, singing “M’Appari” in English: “When first I saw that form endearing” (262; 11:665). The song is represented by the words in italics interspersed throughout narrative descriptions of the other activities taking place, as well as infiltrating Bloom’s internal thoughts. The climax of “M’Appari” involves a high B♭ sung by the tenor on the word “Come!” (264; 11:744) resolved in the phrase “To me!” (264; 11:751). Between the word “Come” and the concluding “to me” Joyce represents, in an extraordinarily evocative passage, the flight, the turns, and the shape of the note which is being held by the singer: It soared, a bird, it held its flight, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to come, don’t spin it out too long

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long breath he breath long life, soaring high, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high in the effulgence symbolistic, high, of the etherial bosom, high, of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the all, the endlessnessnessness … (264–65; 11:745–50)

The voice of the singer takes on the velocity of a bird in flight. Such prose provokes in the reader the desire to enunciate that which has been captured in text. Attempts to vocalize the passage mirror the plight of Simon Dedalus: the need to maintain breath while also sustaining the “endlessness” of the musical line. Another musical interlude finds Bob Cowley playing the minuet from Mozart’s Don Giovanni, and this time it is depicted using the rhythm of the music but with words from Bloom’s interior monologue: “Look: look, look, look, look, look: you look at us” (270; 11:968). The singing of the final song, “The Croppy Boy,” is represented in a yet more complex way. Rather than being italicized, the lyrics of the nationalistic ballad commemorating the 1798 rebellion are submerged within the rest of the narrative. They enter the language of Bloom’s poignant thoughts on lost sons: “All gone. All fallen. At the siege of Ross his father, at Gorey all his brothers fell. To Wexford, we are the boys of Wexford, he would. Last of his name and race. I too, last of my race. Milly young student. Well, my fault perhaps. No son. Rudy. Too late now. Or if not? If not? If still?” (273; 11:1063–67). Bloom’s son Rudy, who died at eleven days old, is a poignant haunting presence in the book, returning as a changeling ghost at the end of the “Circe” episode. Ulysses is read on one level as a father in search of a son, and a son in search of a father. Bloom’s destiny later that day is to encounter one possible surrogate son, Stephen Dedalus. While Bloom is well aware that Boylan is a rival, he is, of course, unaware that from the perspective of the narrative, Simon Dedalus, as Stephen’s real father, is also a rival. There is thus a deep complexity to Simon’s Siren role. He is the key instigator of the dangerous music. And yet the music plants the seeds of possibility in Bloom’s head that a future role as father might be possible for him: “If still?” Bloom has been

living with the assumption that it is too late now for him to be a father to a son. Something of the combination of the two key songs of the episode, one sung by Simon Dedalus, and one concerning lost youths, prompts Bloom to reconsider this sense of finality. Much later in the night Stephen will imitate his father by playing on the pianola in Nighttown. When the sound of his playing travels out into the night street, it guides Bloom to him. Some critics have focused on the spirit of the episode’s intermediality, which is to say its often humorous and playful evocation of musical puns, tricks and charms. Others have formalistically compared its evocation of musical structures and language. We can also read “Sirens” by following the instructions laid out in the “Proteus” episode of Ulysses and pay attention to the book’s sustained critical enquiry into forms of art, the limits of epistemological reasoning, and the reaches of phenomenological experience. Stephen Dedalus ponders the terms nacheinander and nebeneinander (37; 3:13–15) in “Proteus,” which reminds us that both literature and music are linear, nacheinander (one thing follows another), and that the audience experiences the work through time. However, ­music has an added quality, its ­ability to legibly convey several voices at once. Music obtains simultaneity. And Joyce gestures towards this m ­ usical property in “Sirens” with the ­ exclamation “Siopold!” (265; 11:752), a portmanteau consisting of the singer, Simon, the character Lionel, and the listener Leopold. All three merge in the text as the climax of a song is reached. Read in this way, “Sirens” ­anticipates the aural world of Finnegans Wake, where Joyce fully explores the possibilities of such simultaneity in text. We can also see such simultaneity evoked in the episode’s description of the city. Dublin is small in this episode, full of coincidences, chance happenings and overlapping journeys. It is close enough that we seem to hear Boylan’s movement up O’Connell Street (then Sackville street), the knock on the door of 7 Eccles Street, the jingle of the bed. The sonic effects of events which occur “off stage” enter the soundscape of the city. The opening section of the episode thus sets out a paradigm: both the text and the world it attempts to portray

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are made up of multiple sounds coexisting. In the simplest sense of a musical fugue, a phrase is presented by one part, and then successively taken up by others, eventually interweaving together. Whether Joyce achieves an exact replica is debatable; however, in a broader sense, there are indeed multiple lines here which coalesce. As noted earlier Joyce is extending the stylistic maneuvers of “Wandering Rocks” – the insertion of snippets from simultaneously occurring events into each section – to a more unified, richer, harmonious air. There is certainly something fugal about the presentation of Bloom’s initial journey through the city with what is simultaneously occurring in the bar, and also in the subsequent weaving of those lines together. We do not think of literature as a realm in which multiple voices can sing together, but it is nonetheless what modernist literature is often trying to represent. Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway (1925) attempts to capture the sense of myriad sounds simultaneously echoing through a city. In the wake of the First World War and the 1918 influenza pandemic, her novel glorifies, as does Ulysses, the ability of crowds to interact in a city, and to experience the same sounds from different places. Joyce offers a rich version of such experimentation in the sense that he can evoke both high modernist concerns of textual representation and engage with indigenous, classical, and popular music. As we reread “Sirens,” we might remember that the opening phrases have the effect of defamiliarizing prose, in the sense described by Russian formalists. That is, language is presented to us in an unfamiliar way so as to interrupt the automatic progress of our reading, and to focus attention on the words themselves. We also recognize that the performance of these words in the main body of the episode requires a highly active reader. It is important to keep in mind that “Sirens” may aspire to the condition of music, but this episode ultimately brings attention to the manner in which the

reader performs the words of Joyce’s text. For example, there are eight instances in which the word “with” appears in linguistic constructions that function like musical instructions, dynamic markings. Each “with” instance instructs a mode or tempo: “With sadness” (247; 11:80); “with the greatest alacrity,” (250; 11:213); “with grace of alacrity” (250; 11:214); “With grace” (250; 11:215); “with patience” (252; 11:80); “with flick of whip, on bounding tyres” (259; 11:525); “with it” (262; 11:80); “with hoarse, rude, fury” (274; 11:1097). The first, “With sadness,” seems less a comment on what has just occurred (Lydia Douce’s laughter) than an instruction for how the three lines to follow (each a reworking of the same core words in different order, in the manner perhaps of a theme and variations) should be performed. “With sadness” corresponds, so, with the musical marking “con tristezza.” The episode allows Bloom to release some of his “blue” sadness, while remaining safely bound by his rationality and reason. Bloom does face the double foes of the sirens and suitors, but the battle here is not with a spectacular whirlpool or monster; it is a test of endurance and tolerance. Bloom’s resilience is closer to the Irish word “misneach,” a courage based not on bravado but on the ability to continue with tears.24 This is the quality that Joyce wants us to recognize in Bloom. While the men around him are lulled to stupor by the patriotic pathos of “The Croppy Boy,” Bloom does not ­succumb to the “Sirens” of music, nationalism, or despair. Getting out before “the end” Bloom moves back into the city, pausing to read the words of Robert Emmet’s speech from the dock, while simultaneously producing the final sound effect of the episode, a fart, and goes forth to encounter his next ­battle in the form of the citizen Cyclops. 24  Evelyn O’Malley, “Misneach,” in An Ecotopian Lexicon, ed. Matthew Schneider-Mayerson and Brent Ryan Bellamy (Minneapolis and London: University of Minnesota Press, 2019), 153–62.

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viceregal hoofs: the sound of the cavalcade of the Viceroy. his ex: his excellency. eau de Nil: French, “water of the Nile,” pale green color. fellow in the tall silk: Gerald Ward; see 242. Moulang’s pipes: Daniel Moulang, jeweler and pipe importer, 31 Wellington Quay. sweets of sin: Bloom has purchased this book for Molly; see 226. Wine’s antiques: Bernard Wine,

general dealer in jeweler and antiquities, 35 Wellington Quay. Carroll’s: John Carroll, watchmaker and jeweler and dealer in old plate, 29 Wellington Quay. Raoul: character in Sweets of Sin; see 226. boots: person who polishes the guests’ boots. lithia: mineral water containing lithium salts.

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Mrs de Massey: Norah de Massey, owner of the Ormond Hotel. borax: white mineral used in cosmetics and as an antiseptic. hock: German white wine, named after Hochheim on the Main. claret: red wine imported from Bordeaux, mixed with a clear, stronger-bodied wine from Benicarlo, Spain. glycerine: colorless, sweet, syrupy liquid obtained from animal and vegetable oils and fats. fogey: (slang) soldier or sailor who is unfit for active duty due to illness or injury, or an old man,

especially with antiquated attitudes and opinions. Boyd’s: Boileau and Boyd, Ltd, chemist, 46 Mary Street, or, James Boyd, chemist, 21 Grattan Parade, Drumcondra. plugged both two ears: in the Odyssey, Odysseus has his crew put wax in their ears to prevent them from falling under the spell of the sirens; he listens, but bound to the mast. Antient Concert Rooms: concert hall at 42 Great Brunswick (now Pearse) Street; setting of “A Mother” in Dubliners.

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for shout read snout

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like a snout in quest: like a hunter on the trail of its prey. And your other eye!: from “Wink the Other Eye,” a song by George Le Brun. Aaron Figatner’s: jeweler, 26 Wellington Quay. Prosper Loré: wholesale hat manufacturer, 24 Wellington Quay. huguenot: French Calvinists who fled to Ireland in the

seventeenth century. Bassi’s: Aurelio Bassi, statue and picture frame maker, 14 Wellington Quay. Bluerobed, white under: colors of the Virgin Mary’s garments. fordone: done away with, put away. ringing in changes: going through all possible permutations while ringing tuned bells.

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Cantwell’s: Cantwell and McDonald, wine and whiskey merchant, 12 Wellington Quay. Ceppi’s: Peter Ceppi and Sons, picture dealers and statue makers, 8 and 9 Wellington Quay. Nannetti’s father: Joseph Nannetti Senior, sculptor and modeler. Clarence: Clarence Commercial Hotel, 6–7 Wellington Quay. Dolphin: see 223. Rostrevor: village on Carlingford Lough in County Down, north of Dublin. holy show: Hiberno-

English, a ridiculous spectacle. Simple Simon: nursery rhyme. douced: softened, mollified. doaty: Hiberno-English, term of endearment, especially for a child. Jingle: two-wheeled covered carriage. alacrity: liveliness. Cantrell and Cochrane’s: mineral and aerated water manufacturers, 2–11 Nassau Place. fifenotes: notes Simon Dedalus sounds through his tobacco pipe, likened to a small, shrill flute.

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Mourne mountains: located in County Down, north of Dublin. mermaid’s: brand of cut tobacco. O, Idolores, queen of the eastern seas: from “The Shade of the Palm,” a song in Florodora (1899), operetta composed by Leslie Stuart, libretto by Owen Hall, lyrics by E. Boyd-Jones, Paul Rubens. Lidwell: John George Lidwell, solicitor, 4 Capel Street. Essex bridge: former name of the Grattan Bridge. Daly’s: Teresa Daly’s tobacco shop, 1 Upper Ormond Quay. Blue

Bloom is on the rye: after “The Bloom is on the Rye”; see 224. sandwichbell: bell-shaped glass used to cover food on display. to mind her stops: stop, punctuation mark; closing of a finger-hole on a wind instrument to alter the pitch. sol-fa: the solf-fa singing system for the notes of the major scale. plappering: making sounds with the lips. Ah fox met ah stork: combination of two Aesop fables, “The Wolf and the Crane,” and “The Fox and the Stork.”

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change fullstop to comma after pundit

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Mooney’s en ville and in Mooney’s sur mer: en ville, French, “in town,” J. G. Mooney’s, wine and spirit merchants, 1 Lower Abbey Street and sur mer, “on the sea,” Gerald Mooney, wine and spirit merchant, 3 Eden Quay. rhino: (slang) money. Dublin’s most brilliant scribe and editor: Myles Crawford. that minstrel boy of the wild wet west: from the Thomas Moore song,

“The Minstrel Boy”; the west of Ireland is wild and wet relative to other parts of Ireland. faraway mourning mountain: suggests “The Mountains of Mourne,” a song by Percy French (1854–1920). smoking concert: small-scale amateur-professional musical event. bothered: Hiberno-English, from bodhar, deaf, or partially deaf.

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Flower to console me: scarlet geranium. pin cuts lo: see 160. language of flow: see 74. a daisy? Innocence that is: from the language of flowers. Smoke mermaids, coolest whiff of all: the Mermaid cigarettes advertising slogan. the only pebble on the beach: expression, the only desirable person around. The bright stars fade: from “Goodbye, Sweetheart, Goodbye,” song by John L. Hatton (1809–86). the

morn is breaking: from “Goodbye, Sweetheart, Goodbye.” duodene: “a group of twelve notes having certain fixed relations of pitch, in a proposed scheme for obtaining exact intonation on a keyboard instrument” (OED). the dewdrops pearl: from “Goodbye, Sweetheart, Goodbye.” rose of Castile: Balfe’s opera; see 126.

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Ask no questions […] hear no lies: from Goldsmith’s play She Stoops to Conquer; or, the Mistakes of a Night (1773). See the conquering hero comes: Thomas Morell’s (1703–84) poem, quoted by George Frideric Handel in Judas Maccabaeus (1747) and Joshua (1748). and I from thee: from “Goodbye, Sweetheart, Goodbye.” and a rose. Smart Boylan bespoke

potions (G, inclusion). bitter: type of English beer. sloegin: sweet red liqueur made from sloe berries and gin. Wire in yet?: the results of the Ascot Gold Cup; see 224. lugs: ears. dealing from her oblique jar (G, inclusion). sheriff’s office: the City of Dublin Sheriff’s Office, J. Clancy sub-sheriff, 30 Upper Ormond Quay. Fine goods in small parcels: Irish expression.

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Fair one of Egypt […] Look to the west […] For me: from “The Shade of Palm”; see 251. Bloom by ryebloom: see 224. to Flora’s lips did hie: from “Goodbye, Sweetheart, Goodbye.” I could not leave

thee: from “Goodbye, Sweetheart, Goodbye.” Sonnez la cloche!: French, “Sound the bell!” lost chord: “The Lost Chord,” song by Adelaide A. Procter (1825–64), music by Arthur Sullivan (1842–1900).

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Got the horn: have an erection. long fellow: Long John Fanning. barleystraw: (slang) a trifle. Judas Iscariot’s: Reuben J. Dodd; Judas is Jesus’s betrayer,

John 18:2–3. Power: John Power & Son’s Irish whiskey, 98–103 Thomas Street, 4–12 John’s Lane West. How warm this heat is […] Refracts (is it?) heat: see 55.

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vamping: improvising or extemporizing an accompaniment. Begone, dull care: anonymous seventeenth-century drinking song. Love and war: duet for tenor, or soprano, and bass, by T. Cooke. Collard grand: Collard and Collard, English manufacturer

of inexpensive pianos. crotchety: Hiberno-English, cranky; crotchets are quarter notes. by Japers: alternative to “by Jesus.” wedding garment: (slang) formal clothes. averred: confirmed, verified. on the rocks: (slang) without means or money.

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for yery read very

G 11:500 for Marrion read Marion

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coffee palace: the Dublin Temperance Institute and Coffee Booths and Restaurant, 6 Townsend Street; operated by the Dublin Total Abstinence Society. wheeze: (slang) tip, information. Keogh’s: various possibilities, including Mrs Susan Keogh’s, servants’ registry office, 8 Charlemont Mall. Merrion square: affluent neighborhood; see 240. boleros: short jackets, originally worn in Spain. trunkhose: short, full breeches, originally worn in sixteenth century. left off clothes: second-hand clothes. Met him pike hoses: see 147. Daughter of the regiment: Molly

grew up in a British garrison; from the 1840 opera La fille du régiment (The Daughter of the Regiment), by Gaetano Donizetti (1797–1848). drummajor: allusion to The Drum Major’s Daughter (1879), adaptation of “The Daughter of the Regiment,” by Jacques Offenbach. Buccinator muscle: flat thin muscle forming the wall of the cheek. My Irish Molly: “My Irish Molly-O,” anonymous Irish ballad. maraschino: strong sweet liqueur distilled from the marasca cherry. Drumcondra: Dublin suburb north of North Circular Road.

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Bachelors walk: northern quay on the Liffey. When or money: from the saying, “not for love or money.” love absorbs my ardent soul: from “Love and War”; see tympanum: eardrum. Amoroso ma non troppo: Italian, 257. your landlord: the Reverend Hugh C. Love. Love “Lovingly, but not too much so.” Independent: see 121.

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The old dingdong: the old routine. the Burton: see 153. mitres of napkins: folded in the shape of a bishop’s headdress; see 20. shapers: tradesmen. grampus: small, dolphin-like whale. Girl touched it. Poop of a lovely: after Antony and Cleopatra (ii.iii.196–202). Golden ship, Erin: the Erin’s King, Dublin sightseeing boat; see 64. The harp that once or twice: after Moore’s song; see 160. Ben Howth, the

rhododendrons: see 168. M’appari: Italian, “appeared to me,” Lionel’s aria in Martha; see 113. A Last Farewell: title of a John Willis song; illustrated by a picture hanging on the bar’s wall. M’appari tutt’amor: Il mio sguardo l’incontr […]: Italian, “All love appeared to me, my glance encount[ered].” Ah, sure my dancing days are done: from the Irish anti-war song “Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ye.”

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G 11:640 insert fullstop after moon

in the original. One flat: “M’appari” is in F major. Graham Lemon’s: see 144. Elvery’s elephant: see 90. Sonambula: Italian, “sleepwalker”; 1831 opera by Vincenzo Bellini (1801–35). Joe Maas: (1847–86), English lyric tenor. M’Guckin!: Barton McGuckin (1852–1913), Irish tenor. Backache he. Bright’s bright eye: symptoms of a kidney disease, named after Dr Richard Bright (1789–1858). Down among the dead men: anonymous English drinking song. Sweets to the: Hamlet (v.ii.265). Not making much hand of it: Hiberno-English, not doing well with something. Fecking: Hiberno-English, stealing.

Screwed: (slang) inebriated. the gods of the old Royal: the gallery of the former Theatre Royal. little Peake: see 88. But want a good memory: “A liar ought to have a good memory,” Quintilian (c.35–c.100). All is lost now: tenor aria, “Tutto è sciolto,” from La Sonnambula. banshee: bean-sídhe, Irish, female spirit who, wailing, foretells death. hawthorn valley: the Furze, or Furry Glen, Phoenix Park. motives: motifs. Echo. How sweet the answer: from Thomas Moore’s “Echo,” in Irish Melodies. In sleep she went to him. Innocence in the moon: from La Sonnambula.

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Call name. Touch water: strategies for safely waking a sleepwalker. Still harping on his daughter: from Hamlet (ii.ii.190). Wise child that knows her father: proverb; see 85. heart bowed down: song from The Bohemian Girl (1843), an opera by Alfred Bunn, with

music by Michael William Balfe. in cool glaucous eau de Nil: pale greyish blue-green. When first I saw that form endearing: from “M’appari.” Sorrow from me seemed to depart: from “M’appari.”

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love’s old sweet song: see 61. gyved them: fastened them. Full of hope and all delighted: from “M’appari.” Increase their flow: belief that sexual activity led to heightened vocal capacity. My head it simply: from “Those Lovely Seaside Girls”; see 60. tall hats: high society. cachous: sweets made of cashew nut, extract of liquorice, etc. comfit: fruit, nut, or spice coated with sugar candy. Hands felt for the opulent: from Sweets of Sin; see 226. But alas, ’twas idle dreaming: from “M’appari.” Cork air: Simon Dedalus is from

Cork. Singing wrong words: Simon Dedalus halfremembers a popular version of “M’appari.” Jenny Lind: (1820–87) Swedish soprano. stock, sage, raw eggs, half pint of cream: from the recipe Soup à la Cantatrice (Professional Singer’s Soup) renamed after Lind in The Book of Household Management (1861) by Isabella Beeton. jimjam: jamjam (G, correction). Tup: to copulate like a ram. ray of hope: from “M’appari.” Lionel’s song: “M’appari.”

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Drago’s: perfumer and hairdresser; see 66. Each graceful look: from “M’appari.” Terenure: another name for Roundtown. charmed my eye: from “M’appari.” Waiting: popular song by Ellen H. Flagg and Harrison Millard. in old Madrid: song composed

by Henry Trotère, words by G. Clifton Bingham. Co-ome, thou lost one!: from “M’appari.” soar silver orb it leaped serene: Simon Dedalus’s high B flat; the note is high above the stave in the musical score (Bowen).

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To me!: final words of “M’appari.” Horatio onehandled Nelson: see 142. Rotunda: Rutland Square: see 92, 93. disserving: removing from the

table. descanted: remarked, commented; elsewhere, sang or played. ’Twas rank and fame: from Balfe’s opera The Rose of Castile; see 126.

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We never speak as we pass by: 1882 song by Frank Egerton. Rift in the lute: song in Tennyson’s poem cycle Idylls of the King (1859); figuratively, start of bad relations between people. ungyved: unfastened; see 263. Barraclough’s: Arthur Barraclough, professor of singing, 24 Lower Pembroke Street. a voluntary: music added at the will of the performer to a piece. Corpus

paradisum: Latin, “the body of paradise”; Bloom combines liturgical fragments from the mass, corpus, and the funeral, in paradisum. Corncrake croaker: corncrakes have a grating call; Father Coffey read the funeral rite with a “fluent croak”; see 99. belly like a poisoned pup: Simon Dedalus’s expression; see 100. Dorset Street: intersects Eccles Street. pad: blotter.

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Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one: Bloom may be thinking about musical relations in octaves. Blumenlied: German, “flower song.” stables near Cecilia street: 5–6 Cecilia Street. dummy pianos for that. Milly no taste. Queer because we both I mean. Blumenlied (G, reinsertion of displaced lines). Ringabella, Crosshaven: south of Cork harbor; see 221. barcaroles: songs sung by Venetian barcaroli, boatmen, as they row their gondolas. Queenstown

harbour: southern port of Great Island in Cork Harbour, now called Cobh. those earthquake hats: Italian sailor hats made from straw similar to earthquake grass. Down the edge of his Freeman: see 88. your other eye: see 249. Callan, Coleman […] Fawcett: obituaries; see 88. Heigho! Heigho!: bells of St George’s; see 67. Greek ees: using the Greek epsilon rather than the Roman “e.”

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Five Dig. Two about here. Penny the gulls […] Seven Davy Byrne’s. Is eight about: Bloom’s expenditure until now, about eight shillings. Elijah is com: see 144. p.o.: postal order (of money). two and six: 2 shillings, 6 pence. O, Mairy lost the pin of her: Mairy lost the string of her (G, correction); see 76. Sauce for the gander: expression, “What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.” John Plasto: hatter; see 55. Dlugacz’ porkshop: see 54. Agendath:

see 58. Town traveller: traveling salesman. best references: standard phrase used in letters by job applicants. intermezzo: short movement serving as a connecting link between the main divisions of a large musical work. Messrs Callan, Coleman and Co, limited: fictional firm composed of names from the obituary section of the Freeman’s Journal; see 88, 267. P.O. Dolphin’s barn lane: Town sub-post office, money order and savings bank office, 32 Dolphin’s Barn Lane.

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idea prize titbit: notion for winning plotline for the weekly digest; see 65. Music hath charms Shakespeare said: from The Mourning Bride (1697), a play by William Congreve (1670–1729). Quotations every day in the year: popular books and calendars with daily quotations from Shakespeare. To be or not to be: Hamlet (iii.i.56). In Gerard’s rosery of Fetter lane he walks: Shakespeare; see 193. Postoffice

lower down: Town Sub-Post Office, Money Order and Savings Bank Office, 34 Upper Ormond Quay. Barney Kiernan’s: Bernard Kiernan & Co., wholesale tea and spirit merchants, wine and brandy shippers, 8–10 Little Britain Street. House of mourning: from Jeremiah 16:5, Ecclesiastes 7:2. Deaf beetle: extremely deaf. Walter Bapty: (1850–1915) professor of singing, 22 Upper Pembroke Street.

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for Corpuscule read Corpuscle

for Böylan read Boylan

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Lovely seaside girls: see 60. yashmak: veil worn by Muslim women; The Yashmak, 1897 musical comedy by Cecil Raleigh, Sir S. Hicks and N. Lambelet. Well, it’s a sea. Corpuscle islands: allusion to The Purple Island (1633), a poem by Phineas Fletcher (1582–1650). What are the wild waves saying?: 1850 duet by J. E. Carpenter, music by Stephen Ralph Glover. Larry O’Rourke’s: see 56. One: one, one, one: two, one, three, four: description of the dancers’ steps and motions. Ruttledge’s door: see 113. Minuet of Don Giovanni: from Mozart’s Opera Don Giovanni, Act

i, scene iv. Peasants outside: from Don Giovanni. dockleaves: dock plant, edible when young. Look: look, look, look, look, look: you look at us: recreates the rhythmic pattern of a minuet from Don Giovanni (Act i, Scene 6) (Bowen). My wife and your wife: from “The Grey Goose,” an American folksong. Like tearing silk. Tongue when she talks (G, inclusion). intervals: difference of pitch between two musical notes. quis est homo: Latin, “Who is the man,” from Stabat Mater. Mercadante: Mercadante did not compose a Stabat Mater.

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Chamber music: music written for small instrumental ensemble; title of Joyce’s first book. Empty vessels make […] law of falling water: combination of the acoustical principles, Archimedes’s law of specific gravity, and the law of falling bodies. those rhapsodies of Liszt’s, Hungarian, gipsyeyed: Franz Liszt (1811–86), Hungarian composer; his rhapsodies were inspired by gypsy music. Qui sdegno: Italian, “here’s indignation,” from Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute, 1791). The Croppy Boy: song by Carroll Malone (William B. McBurney, c.1844–c.92); see 231. Our

native Doric: Greek dialect; here, Hiberno-English; see 121. Good men and true: from “The Croppy Boy.” What key? Six sharps?: F sharp major. on for a razzle: (slang) ready for a drinking session. In a cave […] from hoary mountains: after Richard Wagner’s opera, Das Rheingold (1853–54). The priest he sought, with him would he speak a word: from “The Croppy Boy.” ships’ chandler’s: providing supplies and equipment. the Iveagh home: charity home off Bride Street established by the Iveagh Trust. Number one Bass: see 147.

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The priest’s at home: from “The Croppy Boy.” The holy father. With bows a traitor servant. Curlycues (G, inclusion). the youth had entered a lonely hall: from “The Croppy Boy.” to shrive: perform the office of a confessor. Answers poet’s picture puzzle: Answers, a popular weekly magazine that featured a picture puzzle. Lay of the last minstrel: (1802–5), poem by Sir Walter Scott (1771–1832). Tee dash ar: from the puzzle in Answers. in nomine Domini, in God’s name: resembles “Nomine Dei,” “in God’s name,” from “The Croppy Boy.” mea culpa: Latin, “through my own fault”; from the confessional.

coffin or coffey: the Reverend Francis Coffey. corpusnomine: Bloom’s Latin construction from corpus, “body,” and nomine, “name.” Since easter he had cursed three times: from “The Croppy Boy.” dab: expert. to titivate: make enhancing alterations to one’s appearance. Way to catch rattlesnakes: practical application of music. Shah of Persia: Nasser al-Din (1831–96), who visited England in 1889. home sweet home: 1823 song written by John Howard Payne, music by Henry Rowley Bishop. music hath jaws: after “Music hath charms”; see 269.

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what Spinoza says in that book of poor papa’s: Baruch Spinoza (1632–77), Dutch-Jewish philosopher; Bloom owns Thoughts from Spinoza, an otherwise unknown volume. God made the country man the tune: “God made the country, and man made the town,” from William Cowper’s The Task (1785). All gone. All fallen […] name and race: from “The Croppy Boy”; Gorey was a staging point for a failed attack on Arklow. He bore no hate: from “The Croppy Boy.” his voice unfolded: after Hamlet (i.v.5–6, i.v.15). My country above the king: from “the Croppy Boy.”

Who fears to speak of nineteen four: after “The Memory of the Dead”; see 231. Bless me, father […] let me go: from “The Croppy Boy.” Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a week: dressed up on a barmaid’s weekly salary. dibs: money. weathereye: lookout or a close watch. By the sad sea waves: from The Bride of Venice (1843), opera by Sir Julius Benedict (1804–85). Chickabiddy’s: term of endearment for a child or a woman. The false priest […] yeoman captain: from “The Croppy Boy.”

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brass in your face. Say something. Make her hear. With look to look (G, inclusion). songs without words: from Trilby (1894), novel by George du Maurier (1834–96); Lieder ohne Worte (Songs without Words), piano pieces by Felix Mendelssohn (1809–47). Hurdygurdy: mechanical instrument with a droning sound, operated by street musicians or beggars. Understand animals […] Solomon did: popular belief about King Solomon. With hoarse rude fury the

yeoman cursed: from “The Croppy Boy.” On yonder river: from “The Croppy Boy.” (her heaving embon): from Sweets of Sin; see 226. fernfoils: leaves of a fern plant. maidenhair: type of fern. The bright stars fade: from “Goodbye, Sweetheart, Goodbye”; see 253. O rose! Castile: Balfe’s opera; see 126. passed, repassed: passed, reposed (G, correction). I hold this house […] Traitors swing: from “The Croppy Boy.” o’er ryehigh blue: “The Bloom is on the Rye”; see 224.

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At Geneva barrack […] was his body laid: from “the Croppy Boy”; Passage is a village north of the barracks. Dolor! O, he dolores!: dolor, Latin, Spanish, pain, grief; here Bloom turns “Idolores” into a verb that he conjugates; see 251. fat blackslapping: fat backslappping (G, correction). Lablache: Luigi

Lablache (1794–1858), Italian bass singer, of Irish, French descent. cachuchad: lively Spanish dance. roseate: resembling a rose. nakkering: beating on a kettledrum; also imitative of the sound of castanets. machree: Hiberno-English, my heart, my dear. adipose: fatty.

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The last rose of summer: Thomas Moore song sung by Martha to Lionel in Martha; see 113. Postoffice near Reuben J’s: 34 Upper Ormond Quay. Greek street: street on Bloom’s route to Barney Kiernan’s. Her hand that rocks […] rules the world: after “The Hand that Rocks the Cradle Is the Hand that Rules the World,” poem by William Ross Wallace (1819–81); Ben Howth: see 168. Better give way […] man with a maid: after Proverbs 30:18–19; the Kipling poem

“The Long Trail”; The Way of a Man with a Maid, anonymous pornographic novel (c.1908). Organ in Gardiner. Old Glynn: see 79. cockloft: small upper loft. Seated all day at the organ: from “The Lost Chord”; see 255. Maunder: talk in a dreamy, rambling manner; reference to John Henry Maunder (1858– 1920), composer of accessible but protracted church music. no don’t she cried: from the Way of a Man with a Maid.

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G 11:1220

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last sardine of summer: after “The Last Rose of Summer.” Barry’s: J. M. Barry & Co., merchant tailors and outfitters, 12 Upper Ormond Quay. That wonderworker: revealed later. that one house. Counted them. Litigation (G, inclusion). Twentyfour solicitors in that one house: there were twenty-four solicitors’ offices at 12 Ormond Quay. Asses skins: traditionally considered the finest material for drum heads. kismet: destiny, fate. Lombard street

west: see 106. Shepherd his pipe. Pwee little wee. Policeman a whistle (G, inclusion). Sweep!: chimney-sweep’s call. bumbailiff: disparaging term for a bailiff empowered to collect debts or arrest debtors for non-payment, possibly expressing the sense of catching them from behind or by surprise. Long John. Waken the dead: from the hunting song “John Peel” (c.1820), by John Woodcock Graves. Poor little nominedomine: see 100.

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“Sirens” · 278

G 11:1260

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da capo: musical term, from the beginning; capo, Italian, head. Breathe a prayer, drop a tear: from “The Croppy Boy.” natural: having low intellectual capacity. frowsy: ill-smelling, musty, unwashed. When first […] endearing: from “M’appari.” decked: vanquished or silenced. Put you off your stroke: disconcert. we’d never, well hardly ever: after Gilbert and Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore (1878). dip: short for diphtheria. Lionel Marks’s: antique dealer, jeweler, 16 Upper Ormond Quay. Bloom envisaged battered

candlesticks melodeon (G, inclusion). they chinked […] glasses: from “The Thirty-Two Counties,” a drinking song by T. D. Sullivan. a fifth: Ben Dollard; the “dominant” tone in a scale. A youth entered […]: from “The Croppy Boy”; the blind stripling. Robert Emmet’s last words: see note on following page, 279. Seven last words. Of Meyerbeer: by Mercadante; see 79. True men like you men: from “The Memory of the Dead”; see 231. Tschink. Tschink: from “The Thirty-Two Counties.”

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Robert Emmet’s last words: “Let no man write my epitaph; for as no man who knows my motives dares now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance

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asperse them. When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth then and not till then, let my epitaph be written. I have done.”

12 · “CYCLOPS” Vincent J. Cheng

“Cyclops,” the twelfth episode, takes place on June 16 at 5 p.m. at Barney Kiernan’s tavern on Little Britain Street, north of the Liffey, close to the Green Street Courthouse and the City

19 Bernard Kiernan’s public house, 8–10 Little Britain Street

Market. The episode follows “Sirens,” which began at 4 p.m., the time Blazes Boylan was due to meet Molly at 7 Eccles Street, and will be followed by “Nausicaa,” in which Bloom

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20 Dublin Corporation Fruit, Vegetable, and Flower Market

has an encounter at Sandymount Strand with a young girl named Gerty MacDowell. Joyce’s designated correspondences for this episode in the Linati schema are very much to the point – for this is an episode about testosterone-inflated machismo (“muscle”) focused on political discussion, especially about Fenian and Irish nationalist politics. Indeed, “Cyclops” has in recent decades become one of the most controversial episodes because of the movement towards reading Joyce (and Irish ­ literature) in terms of nationalist and colonial politics. And the episode is presented in an inflated, overblown style of exaggeration and parody that we can readily understand through Joyce’s metaphor of “gigantism.” The Homeric tale behind this episode is also one of “gigantism”: the Odyssey relates the story of Odysseus’s adventures in the land of the one-eyed Cyclopes, lawless and brutish giants who are uncivilized, hostile, inhospitable, and loutishly narrow-minded. One particular Cyclops, Polyphemus, traps Odysseus and his men in the giant’s cave – and promptly eats two of them for his dinner. But on the second evening, after another grisly meal, Odysseus gets Polyphemus drunk on wine, telling the giant that his name is “Noman.” When Polyphemus then falls asleep in a drunken stupor, Odysseus blinds him by shoving a burning wooden

stake into his single eye. Polyphemus then yells to his neighboring giants for help, saying that “Noman” has blinded him but the other Cyclops do nothing, assuming literally that “no man” has hurt Polyphemus. Making his escape on his ship, Odysseus then taunts the blind Polyphemus, who in his anger heaves a giant rock in Odysseus’s direction and almost sinks the ship as a result before Odysseus and his crew manage to get away. The Homeric tale provides some large themes and clear parallels for the Joycean episode. First of all, the giants, the Cyclopes, provide Joyce with the “Technique” of “gigantism,” which corresponds to both the inflated ego of the citizen and the chapter’s narrative technique of outsized, overblown, extended, fantastical – and hilarious – parodies of literary styles and historical moments. The Cyclops in this Joycean version is the one-eyed “citizen,” whose bigoted myopia, macho swaggering, and belief in physical violence echo the qualities of Homer’s Polyphemus. In contrast to the citizen’s one-eyed and narrow-minded crudeness stands our modern Odysseus, Leopold Bloom, who has the talents and ability to see things from more than one narrow perspective and is thus presented as “two-eyed.” This is a central logic in the episode: the relationship between one-eyed, monologic perspectives (and the

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12 Stoney Batter to Little Britain Street

e­ xaggerated gigantism and narrow-mindedness which they produce) and the broader, more inclusive perspectives of “parallax,” to name an important Joycean concept (147; 8:110–13). Thus, in contrast to the citizen’s penchant for machismo, violence, war, and crudeness, Bloom is civilized, gentle, and (like Joyce) pacifist. The confrontation between the two in Barney Kiernan’s pub – like the confrontation between Odysseus and Polyphemus in the latter’s cave – is antagonistic. The topics of disagreement include a number of central issues: physical

violence; war; masculinity and manhood; xenophobia; capital punishment; Irish sports; Irish history; Irish national politics; the Irish nation; and Irish citizenship. The so-called “citizen” is based on an actual, historical figure, Michael Cusack (1847–1907), the real-life founder of the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA), whose championing of Irish sport was a central force in the Celticist movement. The GAA was a “notably contentious” organization “dedicated to the revival of Irish sports such as hurling, Gaelic foot-

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ball, and handball” and to “banning” as “unIrish” those who participated in “English” sports (Gifford 316). Cusack, who referred to himself as “Citizen Cusack,” was notably contentious himself, greeting people thus: “I’m Citizen Cusack from the Parish of Carron in the Barony of Burre in the County of Clare, you Protestant dog!” (JJ 61). As a Fenian nationalist, Cusack believed in a militant nationalism dedicated to the violent overthrow of the British. It is this linking of the Cyclops/citizen to Fenian politics and militant Irish nationalism that has made this chapter particularly charged politically, for both readers and critics of Joyce. “Cyclops” is a long and rather difficult episode, told by a particularly nasty unnamed first-person narrator, referred to in “Circe” as “the Nameless One”, whose small-minded and bigoted perspective colors the entire chapter. Although the actual plot action in the episode is straightforward enough, the narrative action is dwarfed by thirty-five extended narrative interpolations in various parodic styles. Here, I will discuss several key passages, and then consider some critical perspectives, especially in the context of the controversy involving the citizen, nationalism, and postcolonialism. In the opening of the episode, the narrator runs into Joe Hynes, and they go into Barney Kiernan’s to see the so-called “citizen,” who is accompanied by the fittingly aggressive dog Garryowen, “working for the cause” according to the narrator (283; 12:123), though the only cause he seems to be working for is cadging drinks. Right away Joyce provides us with the first of a number of extended and hilarious send-ups of sentimentalized, heroic Irish legendry in the Celtic-revival mode, in the form of a description of the citizen as a gigantic “broadshouldered deepchested stronglimbed frankeyed redhaired […] sinewyarmed hero” (284; 12:152–55), followed by a catalogue of “the tribal images of many Irish heroes and heroines of antiquity” (284; 12:175). This catalogue suggests that the Irish are responsible for all the world’s great achievements: among these Irish heroes are listed such “Celtic” greats as Christopher Columbus, Dante Alighieri, the Last of the Mohicans, Napoleon Bonaparte, Muhammad, “Brian Confucius,” Buddha, Adam, and Eve.

Bloom walks into the pub looking for Martin Cunningham, on a humanitarian mission of mercy: he and Martin are trying to arrange an insurance payment to help support the family of the late Paddy Dignam (whom they buried this morning, in the “Hades” episode). But even before Bloom’s actual entry into the pub, the conversation between the drinkers has become toxic with anti-Semitic slurs: “Circumcised […] A bit off the top”; “the little jewy”; “the prudent member”; and so on. At this point the men “started talking about capital punishment [and hanging] and of course Bloom comes out with the why and the wherefore” (292; 12:450–51). The citizen tries to answer Bloom’s reasoned argument against capital punishment with cant and rhetoric: “ – Sinn Fein! […] sinn fein amhain! The friends we love are by our side and the foes we hate before us” (293; 12:523–24). This is a stark articulation of the monologic belief in a clear, binary distinction between Self and Other as polar opposites marked by absolute difference. What follows is one of the episode’s most hilarious and effective parodies (293–97; 12:524–679), in which an extended account of Robert Emmet’s hanging becomes an exploration of the dynamics of patriotic martyrdom. Recall that at the end of the previous episode (“Sirens”), Bloom emerges from the Ormond Hotel needing to pass gas, reads “Robert Emmet’s last words” in a shop window, and then farts. Emmet, the martyred and revered hero of 1798, spoke these words, memorialized henceforward in Irish history, before being hanged: “When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written. I have done.” The parody in “Cyclops” narrates Emmet’s hanging in the stylized language of a newspaper society column. The result is deliciously outrageous, providing a trenchant commentary on the nationalist tendency to sentimentalize (as do the society columns) terrible things: death, martyrdom, and capital punishment. Thus, the hanging becomes an over-hyped celebrity event like a royal wedding, a gala occasion attended by all sides: among the attendees are the “viceregal houseparty which included many wellknown ladies” as well as the “Friends of the Emerald Isle,” along with high dignitaries from

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all over the world. In a melodramatic shift of tone, “an animated altercation” then ensues in which “blows were freely exchanged,” after which order is “promptly restored” and “general harmony reigned supreme.” At this point, the hangman Rumbold “stepped on to the scaffold in faultless morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the Gladiolus Cruentus” while “on a handsome mahogany table near him were neatly arranged the quartering knife, the various finely tempered disembowelling appliances,” and so on. This is bitingly – and ­irreverently – funny stuff. Soon the discussion in the pub morphs into a debate about sports, which had become politicized within the Celticist agenda. The topic is hardly coincidental, as Joe Hynes points out: “ – There’s the man […] that made the Gaelic sports revival. There he is sitting there […] The champion of all Ireland at putting the sixteen pound shot” (303; 12:880–82). Indeed, sports had now become a serious issue in the nationalist and anti-English political agenda, with various sports politicized in a proxy nationalist conflict. The men in the pub – including Bloom – now join in the debate: “So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of lawn tennis and about hurley and putting the stone and racy of the soil and building up a nation once again and all to that” (303; 12:889–91). The Celticist arguments for Irish racial and cultural purity (“racy of the soil”) to build up “a nation once again” had, by 1904, moved ­beyond disputes about the Irish language and the Irish literary revival to reach into the arena of popular sports. And so, in a setting described in a way that invokes Celticist myth, “a most interesting discussion took place in the ancient hall of Brian o’Ciarnain’s […] on the revival of ancient Gaelic sports and the importance of physical culture […] for the development of the race” (303; 12:897–901). Hynes “made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation of the ancient Gaelic sports and pastimes, practiced morning and evening by Finn Mac Cool, as calculated to revive the best traditions of manly strength and prowess handed down to us from ancient ages” (304; 12:908–12). The citizen then launches into a patriotic song, “A Nation Once Again” (304; 12:916–17), that well-known

Irish song and long the unofficial anthem of Irish cultural nationalism. The lone dissenting voice in the growing argument for physical and masculinist violence is Bloom, who “espoused the negative” and who, while the men begin to discuss violent sports like boxing (“Talking about violent exercise […] were you at that Keogh-Bennett match?”; 304; 12:939–40), argues instead for individual sports to be valued not along polarized lines of national politics and masculinist violence, but according to humanitarian use-value: “if a fellow had a rower’s heart violent exercise was bad” (303; 12:892–93). As opposed to the general enthusiasm among the discussants for brutal sports like hurling and boxing, Bloom argues for the physical benefits offered by less violent games: “What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training of the eye”; “And Blooms cuts in again about lawn tennis and the circulation of the blood” (305; 12:940–52). The ensuing, extended description of a boxing match between the English sergeant-­major Percy Bennett and the Irish fighter Myler Keogh is a precise representation of a closed, narrow, polarized English–Irish dialectic, of binary oppositions, systemic violence, and absolute difference – for “it was a fight to a finish and the best man for it” (305; 12:967–76). This is an emblematic moment of the masculinist logic of physical violence in a system of mirrored hatred and violence. Bloom’s appeal to other, parallactic considerations simply does not fit into the narrow categories of maleness and masculinity which they can understand: “Do you call that a man?” they ask about Bloom (323; 12:1658). Sports become one more arena in which individual and cultural differences and preferences are homogenized into a narrowminded, cycloptic, and oppressive hierarchy of fixed, essentialized labels. The conversation in the pub gets even more argumentative as the citizen waxes increasingly aggressive and anti-Semitic in trying to provoke Bloom: “ – Those are nice things […] coming over here to Ireland filling the country with bugs”; but Bloom refuses to be goaded into a verbal boxing match. The citizen then escalates his attack, accusing Bloom of “Swindling the peasants […] and the poor

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of Ireland. We want no more strangers in our house” (310; 12:1141–51). The citizen’s logic again constructs the simplistic binary on which xenophobia is based: strangers and foreigners versus “our house,” them versus us. “Strangers in the house” was a phrase used to refer to the British; the citizen’s one-eyed perspective cannot even distinguish British invaders from an Irishman (Bloom) born in Ireland. As the citizen now turns his invective back onto the English – “To hell with the bloody brutal Sassenachs and their patois” – he engages in precisely the binary (and mirrored) logic of absolute difference, accusing England (and its language and culture) of precisely what AngloSaxonist racism had long claimed about the Irish: “No music and no art and no literature worthy of the name. Any civilization they have they stole from us” (311; 12:1191–1201). As Bloom, who is not so narrowly monological, now points out about such a Cycloptic perspective: “Some people […] can see the mote in others’ eyes but they can’t see the beam in their own” (312; 12:1237–38). As Bloom asks a few minutes later: “I mean wouldn’t it be the same here if you put force against force?” The citizen responds with blind rage and machismo: “We’ll put force against force […] We have our greater Ireland beyond the sea [America] […] those that came to the land of the free remember the land of bondage. And they will come again and with a vengeance, no cravens, the sons of Granuaile, the champions of Kathleen ni Houlihan” (316; 12:1365–75). It is ironic that, like the men in the newspaper office earlier in “Aeolus,” the citizen now invokes the racialized metaphor of the Irish as Israelites who remember the house of bondage at the same time he is racially slurring the actual Jew in their midst as a “coon,” a “bug,” a racial Other. Bloom, however, sticks to his reasoned logic, again noting that violent persecution creates new cycles of retributive violence: “Persecution, says he, all the history of the world is full of it. Perpetuating national hatred among nations” (317; 12:1417–18). At this point John Wyse Nolan asks Bloom a key question (echoing Ernest Renan’s influential 1882 essay theorizing “nations” and nationalism, Qu’est-ce qu’une nation?):

– But do you know what a nation means? says John Wyse. – Yes, says Bloom […] A nation is the same people living in the same place […] Or also in different places […] – What is your nation if I may ask? says the citizen. – Ireland, says Bloom. I was born here. Ireland. (317; 12:1417–31)

Bloom, one of those “others” and “foreigners” whom a narrow, xenophobic version of Irish nationalism would wish to write out even though he was born in Ireland, defines a nation simply as “the same people living in the same place” or, in some cases, “in different places.” While the men make fun of his bumbling answer, his definition is nevertheless powerful and significant in its tolerant breadth: Bloom’s answer refuses to “imagine” an essentialized community (as in Benedict Anderson’s formulation of nations as “imagined communities”), but instead accepts and allows for personal, ethnic, racial, religious, and cultural difference and heterogeneity, refusing to deny the status of “citizen” or “national” to anyone within the community. Having argued for non-violence, Bloom has thus far resisted the citizen’s blatant provocations. But Bloom can’t help now pointing out that it is not only the Irish who have been persecuted: “And I belong to a race too […] that is hated and persecuted […] I’m talking about injustice.” Nolan encourages him: “Right, says John Wyse. Stand up to it then with force like men.” But if using force is what it means to be manly, Bloom will have none of it: “But it’s no use, says he. Force, hatred, history, all that. That’s not life for men and women, insult and hatred. And everybody knows that it’s the very opposite of that that is really life […] Love […] I mean the opposite of hatred” (318–19; 12:1476–85). As Bloom now leaves the pub in search of Martin Cunningham, the citizen and the other men continue to mock him: “A new apostle to the gentiles […] Universal love […] Beggar my neighbour is his motto” (319; 12:1489–91). But Bloom’s actions speak louder than their mockery, for he is in fact off on an errand of caritas (“love,” “the opposite of hatred”): to help the Dignam family, proving himself a much better fellow citizen than the

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“citizen” and his drunken fellows, “stand[ing] up to it […] like men” at the bar. During the course of the “Cyclops” episode, the results of the Gold Cup horse race are learned by the drinkers: the favorite, Sceptre, has lost to a twenty-to-one dark horse, Throwaway. This moment re-introduces the issues of favorites and dark horses, Sceptres and Throwaways: the phallic “sceptre” of masculinist and imperialist rule is embodied in the novel by Blazes Boylan, but here in “Cyclops” also by the figure of the xenophobic citizen, while it will indeed be Bloom, “a bloody dark horse himself,” as Joe notes and the longshot throwaway contender, who will in the end win the day in Ireland, and in Molly’s heart. While Bloom is out looking for Cunningham, Lenehan tells the assemblage that he is out “to gather in the shekels”; Lenehan had heard from Bantam Lyons that Bloom was the only man in Dublin who had the scoop about Throwaway. This is of course nonsense, as Bloom does not bet on horses and knows nothing about them; but the men at the pub believe that he has just made a killing but is nevertheless too cheap to stand them a round of drinks. And so their animus towards Bloom grows greater – as do their racist and anti-Semitic remarks, along with aspersions about his manhood: “Do you call that a man? […] One of those mixed middlings he is” (323; 12:1654–59). The citizen, especially, continues mocking Bloom in his xenophobic obsession with racial purity: “Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert us […] after allowing things like that to contaminate our shores” (324; 12:1671–72). When Bloom returns to find Cunningham at last, the citizen now lashes out at him so viciously that Bloom can no longer restrain himself from responding directly. As Cunningham and Jack Power drag him away from the citizen’s violence, he retorts proudly in defense of his Judaic heritage: “Mendelssohn was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza. And the Saviour was a jew and his father was a jew. Your God […] Christ was a jew like me.” This is simply too much for the citizen and, in a moment full of delicious and biting irony, he responds to the perceived insult to his god by taking His name in vain, and by swearing that he will do to Bloom precisely what the Jews

supposedly did to the Christ he holds so sacred: “By Jesus, says he, I’ll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name. By Jesus, I’ll crucify him so I will” (327; 12:1801–12). The moment wonderfully illustrates the cycloptic myopia of absolutist binaries. There has been a lot of good scholarship on “Cyclops” over the decades. In the mid-1990s, a set of more politically inflected studies of Joyce’s works emerged, leading to what one scholar called the “postcolonial turn in Joyce criticism.”1 This scholarly shift precipitated a charged critical controversy concerning nationalist politics, heated debates and charged emotions which reflected the contemporary political disputations about Irish nationalism, independence, colonialism, and the Troubles in Northern Ireland. A number of books were published in the 1990s focusing on Joyce’s politics and views on colonial and Irish nationalist politics and history, including works by James Fairhall, Robert Spoo, David Lloyd, Enda Duffy, Emer Nolan, and myself. The books by Lloyd, Duffy, Nolan, and me, all published in either 1994 or 1995, were written independently and without knowledge of each other’s projects. Each study paid a great deal of attention to the political valences of “Cyclops.” The critical debate they spawned became a notable controversy within Joyce studies. In Anomalous States: Irish Writing and the Post-Colonial Moment (1994) David Lloyd argues that, in contrast to an “authentic” and definable, monologic nationalism as envisioned by the citizen, the episode (and the novel as a whole) demonstrates the heterogeneous hybridity of an Irish colonial culture characterized by “adulteration.” The “Cyclops” chapter “circulates not only thematically but also stylistically around adulteration as the constitutive anxiety of nationalism.”2 In a somewhat parallel vein, I point out in Joyce, Race, and Empire 1  Marianna Gula, A Tale of a Pub: Re-Reading the “Cyclops” Episode of James Joyce’s “Ulysses” in the Context of Irish Cultural Nationalism (Debrecen: Debrecen University Press, 2012), 10. 2  David Lloyd, Anomalous States: Irish Writing and the Post-Colonial Moment (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1993), 106.

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(1995)3 that an “imagined community” with a homogenous and authentic national character and racial purity (as argued by the citizen) had never actually existed in Irish history, which was marked by invasion, conquest, multicultural contacts, and cultural/ethnic hybridity – a point Joyce makes in both his parodic and his satiric takes on the citizen’s arguments as well as in his own essays, in which he notes: “Our civilization is a vast fabric, in which the most diverse elements are mingled […] What race, or what language […] can boast of being pure today? And no race has less right to utter such a boast than the race now living in Ireland” (CW 165–66). Critics’ views have differed on the character of the citizen. In The Subaltern Ulysses (1994), Enda Duffy suggests that the chapter’s confrontation between the citizen and Bloom “becomes the text’s desperate effort to pitch the two versions of the colonial stereotype against each other”;4 these two stereotypes, he notes, are “barbarian versus civilian, Caliban versus Ariel.”5 By contrast, Emer Nolan in James Joyce and Nationalism (1995) takes issue with the longstanding critical reading of the citizen as a cycloptic brute and “barbarian,” noting that “traditional accounts of ‘Cyclops’ … refus[e] to attach any positive qualities to the citizen or the kind of language that he speaks” in spite of the fact that “in some respects the views of Joyce and of the citizen may actually coincide.”6 Thus Nolan contests both the traditional condemnation of the citizen and his brand of Irish nationalism as well as the contrasting characterization of the civilized Bloom as the “good citizen.” While these four, contemporaneous booklength studies differ significantly in their readings of the “Cyclops” episode and of the citizen’s particular brand of nationalist politics, they are all driven by an anti-colonial sensibility and thus pursue a possibility heretofore largely neglected in Joyce studies: that of understanding 3  Vincent J. Cheng, Joyce, Race, and Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). 4  Enda Duffy, The Subaltern Ulysses (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1994), 121. 5  Duffy, Subaltern Ulysses, 111. 6  Emer Nolan, James Joyce and Nationalism (London: Routledge, 1995), 96, 100.

Joyce as exhibiting an acute anti-colonial, proIrish nationalist political consciousness. Thus, these different readings are not necessarily and mutually incompatible: for example, I certainly agree with Nolan that some of the views expressed by the citizen are ones that “coincide” with some of Joyce’s own pro-nationalist and anti-colonialist comments (especially in his Italian journalism). But that does not mean that Joyce wasn’t also and simultaneously critical of the citizen’s particular, narrow version of a purist and “authentic” Irish identity, one that would write out less “pure,” more hybrid citizens – like Bloom, the Dublin-born Joseph Patrick Nannetti, whose parents emigrated from Italy, and the Anglo-Irish, Protestant Yeats. The variant textual analyses became unusually charged in the late 1990s because the emotional investments in the politics of Irish nationalism involved were still raw and important and, in Northern Ireland, still unresolved. Before any of these four books was published, the discussion had already become heated when, at the 1993 Bloomsday Symposium at the University of California at Irvine, Terry Eagleton stood up after a plenary talk I gave on “Cyclops” and delivered an extended response by claiming to “speak as an Irish republican,” then asserting that “after all, the Citizen was right,” and concluding that scholars in California should not be talking about Irish politics; this led to vigorous objections from many members of the audience. In the two and a half decades since then, this debate has been reified in Joyce studies as “the Cheng–Eagleton debate” by a number of articles and books commenting on these divergent readings – most directly in books by Andrew Gibson and Marianna Gula, and in articles or chapters by Emer Nolan, Mark Wollaeger, and Fred Radford7 and, more indirectly, also in articles by Susan de Sola 7  In a sub-section titled “Chenging the Eagletones,” in “James Joyce and the Question of Historicist Desire,” James Joyce Quarterly 33:2 (1996), 271–92, Radford suggests that “Terry Eagleton’s assault at the Irvine Conference on the whole principle of debate in the context of political violence was sinister indeed – let the men of blood pursue their ends unquestioned, for whoever does ask questions is using academic discourse ‘to repress repressed communities’”; and notes the irony in a letter to the editor (published in the London Review of Books) that “attacks Eagleton as Englishman in exactly the same terms that he applied to Cheng as American”

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Rodstein, Bryan Yazell, and others.8 But lost in this simple opposition and lost also in Eagleton’s claim that the citizen was right is the reality that Joyce’s texts are never simply one-sided or straightforwardly oppositional and that multiple perspectives and positions often obtain simultaneously. This is, after all, Joyce’s point in depicting a one-eyed Cyclops with a monologic narrowness of vision: Joyce indeed could (and did) believe in some of the citizen’s contentions, while being simultaneously capable of having real objections to the narrow, bigoted, racist, and xenophobic versions of the militant nationalism the citizen espoused. For, unlike the “one-eyed” Cyclops/citizen, Joyce and his texts are capable of “parallax” – in the case of the “Cyclops” episode especially, of holding more than one perspective at the same time on a colonized culture that is complex, heterogeneous, and hybrid. In my recent book Amnesia and the Nation: History, Forgetting, and James Joyce, I return to that much-debated passage in which Bloom produces a flustered and bumbling answer to in regards to one’s qualifications for “expert[ise] on Irish history and politics” (284–85). 8  Andrew Gibson, “‘History, All That’: Revival Historiography and Literary Strategy in the ‘Cyclops’ Episode in Ulysses,” Essays and Studies 44 (1991), 53–69; Mark Wollaeger, “Joyce in the Postcolonial Tropics,” James Joyce Quarterly 39:1 (2001), 60–92; Fred Radford, “James Joyce and the Question of Historicist Desire,” James Joyce Quarterly 33:2 (1996), 271–92; Susan De Sola Rodstein, “Back to 1904: Joyce, Ireland, and Nationalism,” in European Joyce Studies 8: Joyce: Feminism/Post/Colonialism, ed. Ellen Carol Jones (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1998), 145–85; Bryan Yazell, “Irish-Israelism: Reconsidering the Politics of Race and Belonging in ‘Cyclops,’” James Joyce Quarterly 53:3–4 (2016), 269–85.

the question of what a nation is – “A nation is the same people living in the same place” or also, in some cases, “in different places”: However mockable and hapless a vacillation Bloom’s definition of “nation” may be, it is a position which seems to me considerably less hapless and rather more viable today, after the 22 May 1998 referendum – the “Good Friday Agreement” on Northern Ireland, with its broad, flexible takes on place, dwelling, and citizenship: for, in the key clause that finally cut the Gordian knot of the decades-long sectarian troubles, the Good Friday Agreement recognizes, among other things, “the birthright of the people of Northern Ireland to identify themselves and be accepted as Irish or British, or both, as they may so choose.” In other words, you can be a citizen of the Republic of Ireland while living in a different place, the North – as well as simultaneously a citizen of the United Kingdom! It is a mindblowing concept that unmoors citizenship and nationality altogether from any notion of place, space, and residence.9

The Good Friday Agreement also, I might add, unmoors citizenship and nationality from any religion, race, ethnicity, cultural heritage, and politics. In these ways, the “Cyclops” episode became increasingly reflective of and even prescient about the politically charged debates emerging from Ireland’s long colonial history and the resultant, often-violent “Troubles.”

9  Vincent J. Cheng, Amnesia and the Nation: History, Forgetting, and James Joyce (New York: Palgrave, 2018), 62.

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for taking read talking

G 12:20

D. M. P.: Dublin Metropolitan Police. Arbour hill: street in west Dublin, north of and parallel to the Liffey. sweep came along and he near drove his gear into my eye: in the Odyssey, Odysseus blinds the Cyclops with a piece of burning wood. Stony Batter: originally the main road leading into Dublin from the north; neighborhood north of the Liffey near Smithfield market. Soot’s luck: superstition that good luck follows from seeing a sweep. ballocks: clumsy or stupid person; testicles. taking: talking (G, correction). garrison church […] Chicken Lane: church attached to the

Provost Marshal’s Prison and military hospital at the intersection of Chicken Lane and Arbor Hill. wrinkle: (slang) special knowledge or tip. county Down: county in the province of Ulster (now in Northern Ireland), bordering the Irish Sea. hop of my thumb: little person. Moses Herzog […] Heytesbury street: M. Herzog, traveler pedlar, 13 St Kevin’s Parade. on to his taw: “on the lookout for some opportunity to pounce on him to punish him” (EDD). lay: occupation, especially criminal. How are the mighty fallen!: 2 Samuel 1:19, 25. getting his shirt out: losing his temper.

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G 12:40

G 12:60

Kevin’s parade in the city of Dublin, Wood quay (G, inclusion). Videlicet: Legal Latin, namely, to wit. avoirdupois: “imperial” system of weights using pounds and ounces. three shillings and no pence per pound (G, inclusion). strict t. t.: teetotaler; see 153. John of God’s: Licensed Private Asylum for the Insane, Stillorgan Park, County Dublin, self-advertised as “devoted to mentally affected Gentlemen” (Gifford). Barney Kiernan’s: see 269. the citizen: see Index

of Recurrent Characters. mavourneen’s: HibernoEnglish, my love’s. City Arms: see 162; the Blooms lived here from 1893 to 1894 while Bloom worked at the cattle market. the hard word: inside story, tip. Linenhall barracks: extensive series of buildings originally constructed in 1728 for English-sponsored linen production, leased to the military in 1867 after trade declined.

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G 12:80

G 12:100 Italicize quoted speech

In Inisfail the fair: from Irish Inis (island) and Fál (the stone of destiny at Tara); poetic name for Ireland; from James Clarence Mangan’s (1803–49) translation of the seventh-century Irish poem “Aldfrid’s Itinerary.” Michan: Barney Kiernan’s is located in St Michan’s parish. There sleep the mighty dead as in life they slept: the vaults under St Michan’s Church hold mummified remains. gunnard: gurnard (G, correction). grilse: young salmon. wafty sycamore […] eugenic eucalyptus: Wisdom compares herself to these trees in Ecclesiasticus 24:16–23. fingerlings:

young fish. Eblana: Greek geographer Ptolemy (c.100–c.170) named Eblana as a location in Hibernia, now Dublin. Slievemargy: Slievemarg, mountain southeast of Dublin. Munster: southwestern Irish province. Connacht: western Irish province. Leinster: eastern province that includes Dublin. Cruachan’s land: traditional capital of Connacht. Armagh: city famed for religion and learning in ancient Ireland. Boyle: northwest of Dublin, appears in pre-Norman legendary and historical accounts. shining palace whose crystal glittering roof: the Dublin Fruit,

Vegetable, and Fish Market, 4–33 St Michan’s Street. O’Connell Fitzsimon: food market superintendent in 1904. foison: plentiful supply. flaskets: baskets. drills: furrows. pummet: punnet (G, correction). vetches and bere and rape: legumes and barley and turnip. pelurious: furry. bellwethers: sheep with bells. stubble geese: geese fed on wheat stubble. roaring: horse disease characterized by loud breathing. polled: dehorned. Cuffe’s: Bloom’s former employer; see 94. springers: yearling heifers. culls: surplus or inferior animals. polly: hornless.

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G 12:120

G 12:140

premiated: award-winning. beeves: beef cattle. kine: archaic, cows. Lush: Lusk (G, correction); coastal village, county Dublin. Rush: seaport, Lusk parish. Carrickmines: former village, now southeast Dublin suburb. Thomond: former Gaelic kingdom, North Munster. McGillicuddy’s reeks: highest mountain range in Ireland, County Kerry. Shannon: longest river in Ireland, runs from central Ireland to the Atlantic. the race of Kiar: Kerry people, descendants of Ciar, son of Queen Maeve and Fergus MacRoy in the Táin Bó Cúailnge. firkins: casks. targets: lamb’s neck or breast. crannocks: unit of measure of two to four bushels.

gloryhole: dug-out. cruiskeen lawn: Hiberno-English, full little jug (of whiskey); traditional Irish song. corporal work of mercy: the seven works of mercy are to bury the dead, clothe the naked, feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, shelter the houseless, visit those in prison, nurse the sick. Santry: north Dublin neighborhood. blue paper: summons. rapparee: Hiberno-English, outlaw. Rory of the hill: common pseudonym for 1880’s land-reform advocates. Russians wish to tyrannise: reference to the Russo-Japanese War (1904–5). Arrah: Hiberno-English, indeed, nonsense. codding: nonsense. Wine of the country: stout.

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for freely freckled read freelyfreckled delete comma after ruddyfaced

G 12:160

G 12:180

Ditto Mac Anaspey: ditto “the son of the bishop,” in Irish. a chara: Irish, “my friend.” towser: large dog. round tower: typical of Irish monasteries from the ninth to the twelfth centuries. a tear and a smile: from Moore’s “Erin, the Tear and the Smile in Thine Eyes.” buskins: ancient cross-laced boots. The following list ranges from Irish heroes, leaders, and rebels to increasingly far-flung figures; notes on some less familiar figures follow. Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine hostages, Brian of Kincora, the Ardri Malachi: high kings of Ireland from c.200 bce to 1022

ce. Art Mac Murragh: king of Leinster, (1377–1417). Shane O’Neill: chief of the O’Neills (c.1530–67). Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh O’Donnell: rebel leaders, from the sixteenth to the nineteenth centuries. Red Jim MacDermott: 1880s informer, agent provocateur. Soggarth Eoghan O’Growney: (1863–99) Gaelic revivalist. Michael Dwyer, Henry Joy M’Cracken: 1798 rebels. Horace Wheatley: 1890s music-hall singer. Thomas Conneff: (1866–1912) American athlete. Peg Woffington: (c.1720–60) Dublin actress.

the Village Blacksmith: 1840 poem by Longfellow. Captain Moonlight: name for 1880s militant Land Leaguers. Captain Boycott: (1832–70) land agent ostracized for occupying the land of evicted tenants. Marshal Mac Mahon: (1809–93) president of the French Third Republic, descendant of the Wild Geese. Mother of the Maccabees: Irish-sounding Jewish martyr put to death by Antiochus IV in 168 bce for refusing to convert from Judaism, having encouraged her seven sons to die rather than convert, 2 Maccabees 7.

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delete comma after Michelangelo

G 12:200

G 12:220

John L. Sullivan: (1858–1918) American boxer. Savourne en Deelish: “faithful sweetheart,” song by George Colman. Paracelsus: Wilhelm Bombast von Hohenheim (c.1490–1541), Swiss alchemist and physician. sir Thomas Lipton: (1850–1931) Scottish tea merchant. Michelangelo, Hayes: Michelangelo Hayes (G, correction) (1820–77) Dublin caricaturist. Bride of Lammermoor: 1819 Walter Scott novel. Dark Rosaleen: Ireland, traditional song. Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez: invented hybrids. Captain Nemo: Latin, no one; character in Dickens’s Bleak House (1852); Jules Verne’s protagonist, Twenty

Thousand Leagues under the Sea (1870). Thomas Cook and Son: early travel agency established by father (1808–92) and son, John (1834–99). Bold Soldier Boy: poem, Samuel Lover. Arrah na Pogue, the Colleen Bawn: 1864 and 1860 Boucicault plays. Waddler Healy: possibly John Healy, archbishop of Tuam (1848–1918). Angus the Culdee: eighthcentury hermit. Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth: Dublin locations. Valentine Greatrakes: (1862–83) Irish faith-healer. Arthur Wellesley: Duke of Wellington (1769–1852). Boss Croker: (1843–1922) Tammany Hall leader. The Lily of Killarney: opera based on the Colleen Bawn. Balor of the Evil Eye:

god of death, leader of the giant Fomorians. the Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle: Johns Joachim “Acky” and James Joseph Nagle, publicans, 25 Earl Street North. Alessandro Volta: Italian inventor (1745–1827). Jeremiah O’Donovan Rossa: (1831–1915) Fenian activist. Don Philip O’Sullivan Beare: (c.1590–1660) Irish historian. acuminated: sharpened, tapered. wheeze: tip. Pill lane and Greek street: streets by the Dublin Fruit, Vegetable, and Fish Market. cod’s eye: to cod, to hoax, cheat (Beale). bedight: adorned. the son of Rory: Rory O’More (d.1665), “son of Caoch,” one of the leaders of the 1641 rebellion. old woman of Prince’s street: Freeman’s Journal.

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insert comma after Jude’s

G 12:240

G 12:260

Gordon, Barnfield […] Isabella, Helen: the citizen reads notices of English births, marriages, and deaths listed in the Irish Independent, June 16, 1904. jobber: hack or corrupt person. snug: private room beside the bar. Thanks be to God they had the start of us: pious

expression saying that they are the happier for having reached heaven before us (Dent). pantaloon: sixteenthcentury Venetian commedia dell’arte character, a small, hunchbacked, emotionally volatile, miserly bachelor. oxter: armpit. traipsing: walking wearily or casually.

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G 12:280

Bi i dho husht: Irish, “Quiet!” Green Street: C Division and D Division at 26 and 11 Green Street. G. man: plain-clothes detective. pony: half pint of porter. Terence O’Ryan: curate of St James’s Street Presbytery. Bungiveagh and Bungardilaun: brothers Sir Edward Guinness, Lord Iveagh, and Sir Arthur Guinness, Lord Ardilaun, owners of Guinness’s

Brewery; bung: (slang) assistant at the serving of grog. deathless Leda: Greek mythology, impregnated by Zeus in the form of a swan, Leda gave birth to Helen and Pollux, but also to Castor and Clytemnestra, offspring of her husband, King Tyndareus of Sparta. testoon: coin, here a penny coin. from the rising of the sun to the going down thereof: from Psalm 50:1.

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G 12:300

for say read says

G 12:320

rhino: (slang) money. a dust: (slang) dust-up, a fight. Capel Street: intersects with Little Britain Street near Kiernan’s pub.

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G 12:340

G 12:360

tantras: Hindu mystical or ritual works, popular among Theosophists. etheric double: the spirit, in relation to the body. jivic rays: jiva, soul or vital principle in Hindu philosophy. pituitary body: for Theosophists the pituitary gland linked body and soul, in some ways similar to the pineal gland in Descartes’s philosophy; see 184. pralaya: Theosophy, rest period after death and before rebirth. the great divide: between life and death. as in a glass darkly: from 1 Corinthians 13:12. atmic development: idea of the evolution of the soul over a series of lifetimes, popular among Theosophists.

talafana, alavatar, hatakalda, wataklasat: mockSanskrit, “telephone, elevator, hot and cold, watercloset,” parodies the Theosophists’ fetishization of the Sanskrit language. volupcy: neologism, after “volupty,” pleasure. Maya: Sanskrit, “illusion.” devanic circles: deva, Sanskrit, “divine entity.” C. K.: Corny Kelleher. return room: room off the landing of the stairs. Cullen’s: M. Cullen, military bootmaker, 56 Mary Street. bracken: coarse fern. Banba: the sisters Banba, Fotla, and Éire form a triune goddess representing Ireland.

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G 12:400

point duty: policeman’s traffic detail. physog: also fizzog, face. slidder: slither. bawways: bow-ways, askew. The tear is bloody near your eye: after Thomas Moore’s “Erin, the Tear and the Smile in Thine Eyes.” his poll: his head. Mooney: Mrs Mooney (with the threat of pressure from her son Jack) makes her tenant

Bob Doran marry her daughter Polly in the story “The Boarding House” in Dubliners. a kip: brothel, lodging house; see 11. stravaging: wandering. skeezing: glancing, ogling. O, Christ M’Keown: anglicization of Críost, m’ochón, Irish, “Christ, my sorrow.”

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G 12:420

G 12:440

High Sheriff: the King’s judicial representative. Joe Gann: named after Joseph Gann, British consular official in Zurich. Bootle jail: jail near Liverpool. Arthur Chace: apparently no record exists of an execution of a Private Arthur Chace. Pentonville prison: prison in London. Billington: actual British executioner;

supposedly hanged three Irishmen in one week. Toad Smith: another consular official with Joe Gann. Master Barber: until the middle of the eighteenth century, “barber” and “surgeon” were synonymous. Erebus: Greek mythology, dark middle realm between earth and the underworld. wight: person.

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G 12:460

G 12:480

I’m told those Jewies does have a sort of a queer odour: anti-Semitic belief that Jews emitted a foul smell. codology: Hiberno-English, the practice of codding, or fooling. tool: erection, commonly supposed to occur during hanging. Kilmainham: Kilmainham Jail, site of many executions. Joe Brady, the invincible: hanged in Kilmainham. Ruling passion strong in death: see “tool” above. Luitpold Blumenduft: German, “Leopold Flower-aroma.” corpora cavernosa: Latin, “cavernous bodies,” erectile tissues that expand with blood in the penis and clitoris. philoprogenitive:

loving to create offspring. in articulo mortis per diminutionem capitis: Medical Latin, “at the point of death by breaking the neck.” men of sixtyseven: participants in the failed 1867 Fenian Rising. who fears to speak of ninetyeight: opening line of John Kells Ingram’s “The Memory of the Dead,” concerning the Rebellion of 1798; see 231, 273, 278. drumhead courtmartial: summary courtmartial, after the practice of using a drum as an improvised desk. fool with him: fool with his (G, correction).

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G 12:500

G 12:520

give you the pip: make you sick. Jacob’s tin: from W. and R. Jacobs, biscuit manufacturer, Dublin. golloped: Hiberno-English, gobbled. brothers Sheares: brothers Henry (c.1755–98) and John Sheares (c.1766–98), United Irishmen executed in 1798, supposedly going to the gallows hand in hand. Wolfe Tone […] Arbor Hill: Tone reputedly took his own life there. Tommy Moore […] from the land: Sara Curran’s (d.1808) secret engagement to Robert Emmet was the subject of Thomas Moore’s poem “She is Far From the Land.” loodheramaun: Hiberno-English, big, lazy man. bezique: game of cards. wampum: beads used as

currency by Native Americans. cried crack: gave up. by herrings: by heavens. Power’s: John T. Power, 18 Cope Street, a wholesale merchant of spirits. footless: (slang) drunk. Sinn Fein […] amhain: Irish, “We ourselves! ... We ourselves alone!”; refrain from Timothy Daniel Sullivan’s (1827–1914) song “The West’s Awake,” Gaelic League motto, and, from 1905, nationalist movement; see 156. The friends […] hate before us: after Moore’s song, “Where is the Slave?” Five hundred thousand persons: after O’Connell’s 1843 monster meetings. The last farewell […]: Emmet’s execution, parody of society column.

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G 12:540

G 12:560

Speranza’s: pseudonym of Oscar Wilde’s mother, Jane Francisca Elgee (c.1821–96), used for her nationalist verse. charabancs: long vehicle with seats in rows, looking forward. The Night before Larry was stretched: eighteenth century Irish ballad. Male and Female Foundling Hospital: fictional hospital. Little Sisters of the Poor: Sisters of Charity, South Circular Road, Kilmainham. Friends of the Emerald Isle: fictional group. Bacibaci Beninobenone: Italian, “Kisskiss Prettywellverywell.” Petitépatant: French, “Littlesuffering,” sounds like “Littlefarting.”

Vladinmire Pokethankertscheff: Pseudo-Russian, “Vladimir Pockethandkerchief.” von SchwanzenbadHodenthaler: German, “Dickinbath-Testiclevalley.” Countess Marha Virága Kisászony Putrápesthi: garbled Hungarian, “Countess Bloom of Cows of the Shack-of-Pest.” Athanatos Karmelopulos: Greek, “Deathless Caramelopulos.” Ali Baba Backsheesh: Ali Baba, Arabian Nights peasant, “baa baa blacksheep.” Rahat Lokum Effendi: AlbanianTurkish, “serene effulgent master.” Señor Hidalgo […] de la Malaria: Spanish, “Mr Noble Knight

Sir Littlesin and Words and Our Father of the Evil Hour of Malaria.” Hokopoko Harakiri: PseudoJapanese, “hoky poky” and “harakiri,” ritual suicide. Hi Hung Chang: Li Hung Chang (c.1823–1901), Chinese emperor’s viceroy. Kobberkeddelsen: Pseudo-Danish, “Copperkettleson.” Mynheer Trik van Trumps: Pseudo-Dutch, “Mr Trik of Trumps.” Pan: Polish, “Mister.” Goosepond Prhklstr Kratchinabritchisitch, Borus Hupinkoff, Herr (G, inclusion); garbled faux-Slavic.

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G 12:600

Herr Hurhausdirektorpresident Hans ChuechliSteuerli: Swiss German, “M. Whorehousedirector-president Little-cake-Little tax.” Nationalgymnasiummuseumsanatoriumand suspensoriumsordinaryprivatdocentgeneralhistory specialprofessordoctor: parody of German compound words. Kriegfried Ueberallgemein: “War-peace Overuniversal,” suggestive of the German national anthem “Deutschland, Deutschland über Alles” (“Germany,

Germany over everything”). F. O. T. E. I.: Friends of the Emerald Isle; see 294. eighth or ninth of March: St Patrick’s (c.385–c.461) birthday, birth year, and birthplace are contested. Booterstown: former village, now southeast Dublin suburb. ninefooter’s: this preposterous height is a joke about the height requirement of the Dublin police, five feet nine inches tall. Avvocato Pagamimi: Italian, “Lawyer Pay-meme.” thirtytwo pockets: like the thirty-two counties

of Ireland. Gladiolus Cruentus: Latin, “bloody little sword.” hoch: German toast, “high” or “noble”; toasts in various languages follow. banzai: Japanese, “10,000 years.” eljen: Hungarian, “may he live a long life.” zivio: Serbo-Croatian, “long life.” chinchin: Anglo-Chinese, “cheers.” polla kronia: Greek, “long life.” hiphip: American cheer. vive: French, “long live.” Allah: Arabic, “God.” evviva: Italian, “hurrah.” Catalani: Angelica Catalani (1780–1849), Italian soprano.

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G 12:640

revolution of Rienzi: Cola di Rienzi (or Rienzo, c.1313–54) led a revolution in Rome in 1347, deposing the aristocracy. John Round and Sons, Sheffield: manufacturers of high-quality hollowware, flatware, steel instruments, and cutlery, Tudor Street, Sheffield. sick and indigent roomkeepers’ association: Sick

and Indigent Roomkeepers’ Society, 3 Palace Street. nec and non plus ultra: Latin, “or and nothing beyond,” the culmination. launched into eternity: put to death. Sheila, my own: after Síle ní Ghadhra, personification of Ireland.

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G 12:660

G 12:680

hurling: Irish field sport. Anna Liffey: river Liffey; see 146. monster audience: Daniel O’Connell assembled peaceful “monster meetings” of up to a million people in 1843 in his campaign to repeal the Act of Union; see 130, 137. prebendary: honorary canon. Blown […] sepoys from the cannonmouth: means by which sepoys, Indian troops trained by the British, were executed after they mutinied in 1857–58. clinker:

(slang) clever or excellent person. Blimey: cockney curse, from “God blind me” or “God blame me.” mashtub: brewery tub in which malt is mashed; (slang) wife. Limehouse: London slum. shoneens: HibernoEnglish, Irish people excessively interested in English language and customs. his old goo: (Dublin slang) his old go or turn. cadged: obtained for free by persuasion or imposition; see 141.

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G 12:700

G 12:720

antitreating league: St Patrick’s Anti-Treating League, promoting temperance by discouraging the practice of buying rounds of drinks. she could get up on a truss of hay: after “The Low Back’d Car” by Samuel Lover. Maureen Lay: Máirín léighe, Irish, “Dear Maureen.” Ballyhooly blue ribbon badge: worn by supporters of the temperance unions of Reverend Theobald Mathew, based in Ballyhooly, County Cork. flahoolagh: HibernoEnglish from Irish, flaithiúl, generous. Ireland sober

is Ireland free: Robert A. Wilson’s (c.1820–75) slogan for the Irish temperance movement. tune the old cow died of: very bad slow music (P. W. Joyce). sky pilots: missionaries or chaplains, especially those in the army or navy. What’s on you: Hiberno-English, after cad atá ort? “What is the matter with you?” pro bono publico: Latin, “for the public good.” cynanthropy: type of madness in which a man imagines himself to be a dog. sobriquet: name. delucidate: neologism, the opposite of “elucidate.”

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G 12:740

ranns: old Irish bards’ stanzas, verses, or rhymes. delightful lovesongs: Douglas Hyde’s The Love Songs of Connacht. Little Sweet Branch: translation of Irish, An Craoibhín Aoibhinn, Douglas Hyde’s pseudonym. D. O. C.: newspaper contributors during this period often signed with only their initials; perhaps, humorous code for “cod.” Raftery: Antony Raftery (c.1784–1835), blind

poet known as last of the Irish bards. Donald Mac Considine: Donal Mac Consadine, Irish scholar and poet. englyn: group of intricate Welsh bardic poetic meters. The curse of my curses […] Lowry’s lights: parody of English imitations of classical Irish poetry; lights, lungs; also footlights of Dan Lowrey’s Music Hall; see 223. a chara: Irish, my friend.

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G 12:780

Could a swim duck: variation of “Could a duck swim?” You’re a rogue and I’m another: possibly from the Shylock: Jewish moneylender in The Merchant of Venice; children’s rhyme and clapping game “Shake hands see 196. lottery: see 149. Shake hands, brother. brother John.”

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G 12:800 for bobby L read bobby

G 12:820

lagged: arrested. Blind to the world: HibernoEnglish, unconscious. shebeen: Hiberno-English, illegal liquor vendor. Bride Street: in the liberties. shawls: working-class women, market stall keepers, prostitutes. bully: pimp. Adam and Eve’s: see 141. smugging: “to toy amorously in secret” (EDD); see Portrait (P 35). patch up the pot: reference to Doran’s experience in “A Boarding House,” Dubliners;

see 290. Slan leat: Irish, “safe with you,” farewell. the long fellow running for the mayoralty: Long John Fanning. mimber: member, regional Irish pronunciation. William Field, M. P.: see 35. Hairy Iopas: long-haired poet in Dido’s palace in Virgil’s Aeneid. sending them all to the rightabout: (slang) dismissing unceremoniously.

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G 12:860

the scab: skin disease common in sheep. hoose: lung disease in cattle. drench: anti-parasitic solution administered on the back or throat or in an injection. timber tongue: bacterial disease, actinomycosis. knacker’s: purchases old horses for meat. teach your grandmother how to milk ducks: conflation of Hiberno-English expressions for activities familiar to older generations, “how to grope ducks” and “how to sup milk.” a soft hand under a hen: skilled at removing eggs. Ga Ga Gara: nursery rhyme parody. Nannan’s: possibly a variant of Joseph Patrick Nannetti. going over tonight to London: to speak to

the Parliament about the ban on the playing of Irish sports in Phoenix Park. Sluagh na h-Eireann: Irish, “The Host of Ireland,” nationalist organization. Mr Cowe Conacre: fictitious character named after the Conacre System, which charged exorbitant rents to poor tenant farmers. Multifarnham: Multyfarnham, cattle-farming village, County Westmeath. Nat: Irish Nationalist Party. Shillelagh: County Wicklow barony. Allfours: Arthur James Balfour (1848–1930), Conservative prime minister 1902–5. Tamoshant: See 60. Con.: Conservative. Orelli O’Reilly: suggests “Oh really, O’Reilly?” Montenotte: residential area in Cork.

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G 12:880

G 12:900

Mitchelstown telegram: police report on the Mitchelstown Massacre of September 9, 1887, the shooting of three men and injuring of dozens at a protest related to a rent strike in County Cork; the telegram was read by Balfour in defense of the police in the House of Commons. Buncombe: insincere speechifying, after Felix Walker of Buncombe, North Carolina. man that got away James Stephens: Michael Cusack (the model for the citizen), according to unfounded rumor. putting the sixteen

pound shot: Denis Horgan (1871–1922) held the record. Na bacleis: Irish, “Don’t pay any attention to it.” putting the stone: similar to shot-putting, but with stones of various weights. racy of the soil: characteristic of a people or country. a nation once again: title of a song by Irish poet Thomas Osborne Davis (1814–45). antimacassar: cloth put on back of chair to prevent staining. Brian O’Ciarnain’s […] Bretaine Bheag: Irish, “Barney O’Kiernan’s in Little Britain Street.”

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for house house read house

G 12:920

G 12:940

Finn Mac Cool: Irish legendary hero, poet, and warrior, from whose bands of warriors, the Fianna, the Fenians took their name. strength and powers: strength and prowess (G, correction). Thomas Osborne Davis: Irish poet; see 303. Caruso-

Garibaldi: amalgam of Italian tenor Enrico Caruso (1873–1921) and Italian nationalist Giuseppe Garibaldi. very rev. William Delany […] T. Quirke, etc., etc.: Dublin clerics listed in Thom’s Directory.

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G 12:960

G 12:980

Queensbury rules: included the use of padded gloves 1900). It was a historic and a hefty battle: parody of and three-minute rounds with breaks; named after John sports journalism. lively claret: flowing blood. fistic: Sholto Douglas, the marquis of Queensberry (1844– pugilistic. Eblanite: Dubliner; Eblana; see 282.

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G 12:1000

G 12:1020

Portobello: barracks; see 165. Ole Pfotts Wettstein: after Dr Georg Wettstein, Zurich vice-consul and lawyer opposing Joyce in a lengthy litigation. bright particular star: from All’s Well That Ends Well (i.i.98). says I to myself, says I: from Gilbert and Sullivan’s operetta Iolanthe; or, The Peer and the Peri (1882). the milk in the cocoanut: puzzling fact or circumstance, or its explanation. the tootle on the flute: from Percy

French’s song “Phil the Fluter’s Ball.” Dirty Dan the dodger’s son […] that sold the same horses twice: Boylan’s father Daniel, during the Boer War. ’Twixt me and you Caddereesh: Joyce’s father was fond of this phrase. Calpe’s rocky mount: Calpe, the Romans’ name for Gibraltar. loquat: tropical fruit found on Gibraltar. gardens of Alameda: Gibraltar park. garths: enclosed garden or field.

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G 12:1040

G 12:1060

Stubb’s: Stubb’s Mercantile Offices, Commercial Inquiries and Debt Recovery, 1 College Street. Cummins of Francis street: Mr Cummins, pawnbroker, 125 Francis Street. to pop: to pawn. right go wrong: immediately, regardless of consequences. Jimmy Johnson: Reverend James Johnson, Scottish Presbyterian minister, called himself “the apostle of

truth.” cast your nasturtiums: cast your aspersions. compos mentis: Legal Latin, “sane of mind.” U. p. up.: see 151. pishogue: Hiberno-English, a charm, a spell, from the Irish piseog; Paul O’Mahoney argues in “The Use of ‘Pishogue’ in Ulysses” that Joyce mistook the word for the Hiberno-English piteog, “an effeminate man.”

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cockahoop: overjoyed, exultant. pew opener to the pope: Vatican official. smashall sweeney’s: comically careless Connacht type as described by William Hamilton Maxwell in Wild Sports of the West. signor Brini: italianization of Mr Breen. eyetallyano: phonetic for Italiano. papal zouave: member of the volunteer unit formed in 1860 to defend the Papal States. Moss street: slum area from Great Brunswick Street to George’s Quay. two pair back and passages: possibly a description of cramped rented accommodation.

Sadgrove v. Hole: 1901 libel case, hinging on whether mailed postcards constituted publication or privileged communication, the latter not being subject to libel charges. Six and eightpence: (slang) lawyer. Canada swindle: see 123. James Wought: accused in the Canada swindle case. badhachs: Hiberno-English, burly, clumsy men. his own kidney: his own kind, sort, class (OED). Zaretsky: first to press charges in Canada swindle. Recorder: highest-ranking judicial officer, Sir Frederick Falkiner.

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And whereas on […]: parodies Irish legends and trial transcripts. oxeyed goddess: Homeric epithet for Hera. feastday of the Holy and Undivided Trinity: May 29, 1904. master Courtenay: master of the High Court of Justice in Ireland, King’s Bench Division, in 1904. rede: counsel. Justice Andrews: judge of the Probate and Matrimonial Causes, King’s Bench Division, in 1904. in re: legal term, in the matter of. Jacob Halliday: grocery, tea, wine, and spirit shop,

38a Main Street, Blackrock. court of Green street: courthouse, 26 Green Street. sir Frederick the Falconer: variation on Frederick Falkiner. the law of the brehons: Brehon law, Gaelic legal system. high sinhedrim: Jerusalem’s highest court. Caolte: Caolte MacRonan, member of the Fianna. twelve tribes of Iar: after the twelve tribes of Israel; Iar, son of Mileadh; also Iar, Irish, “west.” the rood: Old and Middle English, the cross.

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donjon: archaic spelling of dungeon. ne bail ne mainprise: Middle English legal terms, “Neither bail nor mainprise”; mainprise: person who takes on the responsibility for a released prisoner’s return to the court at a later date. preferred a charge: brought an indictment before a court. do the devil: to work as a junior counsel for a barrister. that little matter: Joe’s

debt to Bloom. the adulteress and her paramour: Devorgilla and Dermot MacMurrough; see Deasy’s garbled version on 34 and Tiernan O’Rourke in the Index. Decree nisi: court-granted decree to take effect at a specified date unless cause is presented before that date for revoking it. Police Gazette: sensationalistic New York weekly newspaper. Norman W. Tupper: unknown.

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peashooter: gun. trick of the loop: carnival game involving small wooden hoops; here referring to sexual intercourse. jakers: alternative to “Jesus.” tinkers: from “tin-smiths,” Irish traveling community; used in an offensive sense to mean thieves. O’Nolan, clad in shining armor […]: continued parody of medieval and Irish legend. most obedient city: Dublin’s city motto, Obedientia Civium Urbis Felicitas, Latin, “the citizens’ obedience is the city’s happiness.” tholsel: toll collector’s hut; see 235. Sassenachs: Englishmen; see

9. doing the toff: behaving or talking in a gentlemanly or snobbish manner. putting your blind eye to the telescope: trick used by Nelson, blind in one eye, to ignore the retreat signal during a battle with the Danish at Copenhagen in 1801. thicklugged: thick-eared. cabinet d’aisance: French, water closet. Full many a flower is born to blush unseen: from Thomas Gray’s (1716–71) “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard.” Conspuez les Anglais! Perfide Albion!: French, “Spit on the English! Perfidious England!”

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He said and then lifted […]: continuing parody of medieval and Irish legend. medher: HibernoEnglish, cup. Lamh Dearg Abu: Irish, “Red Hand to Victory,” symbol of Ulster and the O’Neills. tanner: sixpence; see 168. Bass’s mare: William Arthur Hamar Bass owned Sceptre. Lord Howard de Walden’s: Thomas Evelyn Eelis (1880–1946). Frailty, thy name is Sceptre: after Hamlet (I.ii.146). Old mother Hubbard: nursery rhyme. dog: underperforming racehorse. pecker: (slang) confidence, spirit. can see the mote in others’ eyes but […]: from Matthew

7:3. Raimeis: Hiberno-English, from Irish, “romance,” here, nonsense. twenty millions of Irish: if population growth rates had continued uninterrupted by the potato famine and emigration. our potteries and textiles: Irish industrialization was hindered by laws passed in London after the Act of Union. Antrim: center of the Irish linen industry. Jacquard de Lyon: inventor of the Jacquard loom. Foxford: Mayo village with tweed hand-weaving industry. raised point: type of needlework. the pillars of Hercules: the rocks where the Mediterranean opens to the ocean.

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fair of Carmen: according to P. W. Joyce, Social History, one of three main ancient Irish markets for foreign traders. Tacitus: (c.55–c.117) Roman historian. Ptolemy: second century ce Greek astronomer and geographer. Giraldus Cambrensis: (c.1146–c.1220) Welsh chronicler. peltries: pelts. hobbies: small or midsize horses. yellowjohns: translates Irish “Séan Buidhe,” derogatory for Englishmen. Barrow and Shannon: rivers in the

lowlands of central Ireland. Heligoland: two small islands off the German mainland. the fair hills of Eire, O: song, “Bán-chnoic Eireann O,” by Donough MacConmara (d.c.1810), translated by James Clarence Mangan. Irish National Foresters: nationalist and Catholic organization. report of lord Castletown’s: 1907 report on the damage to forestation resulting from the Land Purchase Acts (Gifford). The fashionable international world […]: parody of

sensational newspapers and of chivalric romance, especially the tree catalogue in Spenser’s The Faerie Queene. Jean Wyse de Neaulan: parodically “French” version of John Wyse Nolan. Miss Bee Honeysuckle: after the music-hall song “The Honeysuckle and the Bee” (1901) by Albert H. Fitz and William H. Penn. Miss O Mimosa San: from the operetta The Geisha. M’Conifer of the Glands: after the Irish epithet “of the Glens”; glands: acorns. bretelles: French, “straps.”

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Toques: hats; see 151. Enrique Flor: Portuguese, Henry Flower. Woodman, spare that tree: American song by George P. Morris and Henry Russell. Spanish ale in Galway: Galway was the entry port into the United Kingdom for wine from Spain, Portugal, the Canary Islands, and Italy; see Joyce’s essay “The City of the Tribes.” Henry Tudor’s harps: Henry VIII included a gold harp in England’s royal arms to symbolize rulership of Ireland. oldest flag afloat: the “Sacred Banner of the Milesians,” featuring a dead serpent and the rod of Moses. the three sons of

Milesius: the Milesians, led by three sons, were the last of Ireland’s legendary invaders. Moya: anglicized Irish mar dhea, “as it were” (usually ironic). Cows in Connacht have long horns: Irish proverb, similar to, “the grass is always greener.” Shanagolden: town in County Limerick. the Molly Maguires: nationalist terrorist group. to let daylight through him: to shoot him. an imperial yeomanry: British army volunteer cavalry regiment; in Ireland, largely Protestant and conservative. a hands up: Red Hand logo featured on bottles of Allsopp’s ale.

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Black Beast Burned in Omaha, Ga.: lynching of a man in September 1919 in Omaha, Nebraska, misreported by the London Times as Omaha, Georgia. Deadwood Dicks: hero of Edward L. Wheeler’s (c.1854–c.1885) dime novel westerns. sambo: racist term for a Black person. the fighting navy: from “The Lads in Navy Blue,” a patriotic song. flogging on the training ships: the Royal Navy abolished flogging in 1880, corporal punishment in 1906. Disgusted One:

after George Bernard Shaw’s 1904 letter opposing corporal punishment, “I should blush to offer a lady or a gentleman more reasons for my disgust at it. Yours truly, G. Bernard Shaw.” A rump and dozen […] Sir John Beresford: John Claudius Beresford (1766–1846), Irish MP and banker, threatened a man with flogging using this phrase. Tis a custom […] observance: from Hamlet (i.iv.15–16). meila murder: Hiberno-English, a thousand murders, after míle,

Irish, thousand. fellows that never will be slaves: after James Thomson’s, “Rule Britannia.” the only hereditary chamber: the English House of Lords was not completely hereditary, and there were other European hereditary chambers. cottonball: fake. yahoos: beasts of human shape in Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. They believe in rod […]: parody of the Apostles’ Creed. Jacky Tar: sailor. put force against force: from the song “The Bold Fenian Men.”

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downface: Hiberno-English, to commit oneself boldly to a claim, right or wrong. greater Ireland beyond the sea: usually, the United States. black 47: 1847, the worst year of the famine. shielings: small huts. the Times: supported the suppression of Irish industry and a non-interventionist policy in the famine. piastres: piastre, a small Turkish coin. coffinships: unsafe, unlicensed vessels, last resort for many Irish emigrants. the land of the free: from “The Star-Spangled Banner.” The land of bondage: after Exodus 20:2. Kathleen ni Houlihan: Ireland; see 177. the French […] Killala: the French expeditionary

force landed at Killala too late to assist the failed 1798 rebellion. Limerick: the 1691 Treaty of Limerick allowed for the safe passage to France and Spain of the troops of the defeated James II, who were known subsequently as the Wild Geese, and for religious freedoms and property rights for remaining Catholics, rights which were repudiated by anti-Catholic factions in Irish Parliament in 1697. Fontenoy: 1745 battle in which the Irish Brigade distinguished itself. Sarsfield: Patrick Sarsfield, First Earl of Lucan (c.1655–93), senior commander in the Jacobite army, negotiated the Treaty of Limerick. O’Donnell: Leopold O’Donnell

(1809–67), Spanish prime minister, descendant of the Wild Geese. Ulysses Browne […] Maria Teresa:, Maximilian Ulysses, Count von Browne, Baron of Camus and Mountany (1705–57), son of one of the Wild Geese, field marshal for Maria Theresa (1717–80), Archduchess of Austria and Queen of Hungary. Entente cordiale: French, “cordial understanding,” referring to the French-English agreements of April 1904. Tay Pay’s: see 132. George the elector: George I of England. the German lad: Prince Albert. jorum: drinking-bowl. Ehren on the Rhine: ballad by Americans Cobb and Hutchinson.

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Edward the peacemaker: French moniker for Edward VII after the entente cordiale. more pox than pax: i.e., more venereal disease than peace. Guelph-Wettin: Guelph, family name of House of Hanover; Wettin, Prussian version of Wetter, family name of Prince Albert. his room in Maynooth: St Patrick College,

Maynooth welcomed Edward VII during his state visit to Ireland with decorations of royal horse-racing colors and displays of Edward’s favorite racehorses. earl of Dublin: title of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales. Red bank oyster: (slang) large amount of mucousy spit; see 166.

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Solomon […] Ballymote: The Book of Ballymote (1391) by scribes Solam (Solomon) Ó Droma, Magnus (Manus) Ó Duigenan, and Robertus Mac Sithigh. four masters: of The Annals of Ireland by the Four Masters (1632–36), Michael O’Clery, Conaire O’Clery, Cucoigcriche O’Clery and Fearfeasa O’Mulchonry. emunctory: related to blowing one’s nose. duns and raths and cromlechs and grianauns: hillforts, circular forts, flat forts, and castle sunrooms.

seats of learning: monasteries. maledictive stones: stone piles made after disasters, used for curses. Sligo illuminators: scribes of The Book of Ballymote. Barmecides: powerful eighth-century Persian family, subject of Irish poet James Clarence Mangan’s “The Time of the Barmecides.” Glendalough […] Lynch’s castle: picturesque or historical Irish sites. the Scotch house: see 152. Rathdown Union Workhouse: poorhouse in Loughlinstown, south of

Dublin. Kilballymacshonakill: invented, translates as “Church (or Wood) of the town of the son of John of the Church.” Curley’s hole: Dollymount swimming area. Henry Street Warehouse: outfitters, haberdashers, 59–62 Henry Street. shove us: show us (G, correction). sold by auction off in Morocco: until 1907, Jews in Morocco were compelled by law to perform compulsory service for the Muslim majority.

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new Jerusalem: capital of the Messianic kingdom in Ezekiel; the holy city that comes down from heaven in Revelations 21. new apostle to the gentiles: Saint Paul, Romans 11:13. love loves to love love […]: possibly after St Augustine’s Confessions 3:1, “Not yet did I love, though I loved to love; seeking what I might love, loving to love” (Gifford). Love your neighbour: Jesus’s command, Matthew 22:39. Beggar my neighbour: card game. Jumbo, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant: actual couple in the 1890s

in the Royal Zoological Gardens, London. Old Mr Verschoyle […] old Mrs Verschoyle: Verschoyles lived at 14 Sydney Avenue, Blackrock; 4 Greenville Avenue, Dublin; and Woodley, Churchtown, Dundrum. canters: criminals. Cromwell and his ironsides: in the 1649 campaign to pacify Ireland, Cromwell and his ironsides, or troops, massacred roughly 3,000 Irishmen. skit in the United Irishman […] Zulu chief: scenario typical of sketches in Arthur Griffith’s United Irishman.

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His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta: leader, or “Alake,” of Abeokuta, a western Nigerian province; not Zulu. Gold Stick in Waiting, Lord Walkup on Eggs: in 1904, the Right Honourable Baron Belper held the office of the “Captain and Gold Stick of His Majesty’s Body Guard of the Honourable Corps of Gentlemenat-Arms.” the reverend Ananias Praisegod Barebones: Cromwell’s Parliament was called Barebone’s Parliament, after Praise-God Barebones (Barbon or Barebone) (1596–1679), MP, preacher, and tanner. illuminated bible: gift of Queen Victoria to the Alake of Abeokuta. usquebaugh: whiskey;

see 190. Black and White: type of Scotch whiskey. Cottonopolis: Manchester. Griffith […] P.: for his United Irishman skits, Griffith first used the pseudonym “Shanganagh” (“a friendly conversation”), then later simply the initial “P.” Trade follows the flag: the citizen links commercial gain with imperial conquest. Casement: Irishman Sir Roger Casement (1864–1916), filed a report on the immiserated conditions of native workers in the Congo, resulting in public outcry and mild reform measures; he was executed for treason in 1916 after negotiating with Germany for military support for the Irish rebels. blind: pretence.

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shekels: money; the silver coin of the Hebrews. whiteeyed kaffir: stage name of blackface performer G. H. Chirgwin; kaffir, an offensive, derogatory term for a Black African. Gort […]: village in County Galway. pumpship: to urinate (Beale). Slattery’s: public house, 15 Suffolk Street. the idea for Sinn Fein to Griffith: Griffith argued that Hungary’s autonomy within the Austro-Hungarian empire was a model for Ireland in The Resurrection of Hungary: A Parallel for

Ireland (1904). kybosh: decisive end. argol bargol: unreasonable quibbling, from Irish argáil, “argument.” Methusalem Bloom: Rudolph (Virag) Bloom, Bloom’s father; corruption of “Methusalah,” the longest-living personage in the Hebrew Bible, who died at 969 years old. bagman: traveling salesman. Lanty Mac Hale’s goat […] with every one: common expression, usually featuring Lanty or Larry M’Hale’s dog, as in Charles Lever’s (1806–72) poem “Larry M’Hale.”

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the collector general’s: the Orangeman Crofton, now pensioned, works for R. T. Blackburne, Dublin County Council secretary. Our travellers reached […]: parodies the stylized medieval romances of the late nineteenth century. palfreys: docile horses. varlet: page. tabard: short surcoat with short sleeves and open sides worn by knights over armor. good den: archaic, “good evening” (OED). Lackaday: “Shame or reproach

to the day” (OED). An you be: if you be (OED). trencherman: “One who has a hearty appetite” (OED). collops: slices of meat. medlar: fruit that “resembles a small brown-skinned apple” (OED). tansy: an aromatic and bitter herbaceous plant, here, “pudding, omelet, or the like, flavoured with juice of tansy” (OED). quotha: archaic, from “quoth he,” used to suggest doubt about the truthfulness of a statement.

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swaddler: (slang) a Methodist. Junius: pseudonym of a still-unknown author of letters attacking George III that appeared in the London Public Advertiser between 1769 and 1772. His name was Virag: Virág:

Hungarian, flower. tin of Neave’s food: brand of baby food. En ventre sa mère: French, “in his mother’s belly.” put it out of sight: sexual euphemism. totty: girl or woman. courses: menstrual discharge.

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Ahasuerus: legendary Wandering Jew; see 34. J. J. and S.: John Jameson and Sons. acolytes, thurifers, boatbearers, readers, ostiarii, deacons and subdeacons: various roles in a procession or Mass. monks of Benedict […] the Christian brothers: apart from one exception, a catalogue of Catholic monastic and mendicant orders and organizations. Premonstratesians: Premonstratensians (G, correction). Friars […] grey: Grey Friars, Franciscans. the children of Elijah prophet: Order of Our Lady

of Mount Carmel, established c.1200, supposed to have been originally founded by the prophet Elijah. Teresa of Avila, calced and other: the Carmelites are divided into the “calced” (with shoes) and the “discalced” (without), who follow reforms introduced by St Theresa of Avila. cordeliers: French, “cord-wearers,” Franciscans whose strict observance is indicated by wearing knotted cords. minimes: order of Mendicant Friars founded by St Francis of Paola in 1454. S. Wolstan: (c.1012–95), last Saxon bishop of England; did not found a religious

order. S. Cyr […] S. Fursey: saints and martyrs, apart from the following exceptions. S. Owen Caniculus: a small dog, caniculus, named Owen. S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S. Synonymous: saints of a series of nominal forms: of no name, of having something named after them, of false name, of the same name, of a derivative name, and of the same name. S. James of Dingle: the Church of St James Compostella, Dingle, County Kerry.

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S. Fintan […] S. Ursula: more saints and martyrs. Calpensis: Latin, “of Gibraltar.” nimbi and aureoles and gloriae: symbols of sanctity in art; respectively, haloes, celestial crowns, and auras of light. by Nelson’s Pillar, Henry Street, Mary Street, Capel Street, Little Britain Street: a procession starting presumably from the Pro-Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception on Marlborough Street, passing west across Sackville

(O’Connell) Street and north to Barney Kiernan’s pub. aspergills: brushes used to sprinkle holy water. Epiphania Domini: the Epiphany of Our Lord, which does not begin with Surge, illuminare, “Arise, Shine,” although the lesson for that day does. Adiutorium nostrum in nomine Domini: Latin, “Our help is the name of the Lord.”

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Qui fecit […] spiritu tuo: from the Mass for the Epiphany, “Who made heaven and earth”; “The Lord be with you”; “And with your spirit.” Deus, cuius verbo […] per Christum Dominum nostrum: “O God, by whose word all things are made holy, pour down your blessing on these which you created. Grant that whoever, giving thanks to you, uses them in accordance with your law and your will, may by calling on your holy name receive through your aid health of body

and protection of soul, through Christ our Lord.” Thousand a year, And butter for fish: toasts to good fortune. John Jameson: see 171. scut: foolish, contemptible person. Stand us a drink: buy us a drink. looking blue: looking like a fight. The milkwhite dolphin […] clave the waves: parody of nineteenthcentury translations of medieval romance. poop: the highest deck in the stern of a ship. spinnaker: large sail. larboard: archaic term for stern.

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hosting: assembling in an army. curse of Cromwell: Oliver Cromwell’s 1649–50 conquest of Ireland was notoriously violent. bell, book and candle: Roman Catholic ceremony to perform excommunication (Brewer). Arrah: see 283. to whisht: Anglicization of the Irish bí i do thost, “be silent.” If the man in the moon was a jew, jew jew: variation on the racist song by Fred Fisher, “If the Man in the Moon Were a Coon”

(1905). Mendelssohn was a jew […] and Spinoza: Bloom lists historical figures whose relations to Judaism are varied and uncertain: German philosopher Moses Mendelssohn or German composer Felix Mendelssohn, German political philosopher Karl Marx, Italian Catholic composer Mercadante; and Dutch philosopher Spinoza. A large and appreciative […] not forgotten: parody of a journalistic account of a state visit.

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Nagyaságos uram Lipóti Virag: Hungarian, “My honorable lord Flower Lipóti”; Lipót, village in the northwest of Hungary. SzazharminczbrojugulyasDugulás: Hungarian, “blockage caused by 130 portions of veal goulash.” éclat: French, “radiance, dazzling effect.” agus: Irish Gaelic, “and.” Come Back to Erin: song by Englishwoman Charlotte Allington Barnard (1830–69). Rakóczsy’s March: Hungarian national march. four seas: the Irish Sea, the North

Channel, the Atlantic, and St George’s Channel. the summits of the Hill of Howth: see 168. welkin: sky or heaven. Cambrian: Medieval Latin name for Wales. Caledonian: Roman name for Northern Britain. Pigeonhouse and the Poolbeg Light. Visszontlátásra, kedves barátom! Visszontlátásra! (G, inclusion): Hungarian, informal, “Goodbye/See you again, my dear friend! Goodbye/See you again!” county Longford: ninety miles west of Dublin.

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The catastrophe was terrific […] S. I.: parodies newspaper coverage of a natural disaster. Mercalli’s scale: a twelve-grade earthquake scale. the earthquake of 1534: referenced in Thom’s 1904, “Dublin Annals.” rebellion of Silken Thomas: see 221. Inn’s Quay ward and parish of Saint Michan: Barney Kiernan’s is located in the municipal division of Inn’s Quay, which overlaps with the Catholic parish of Saint Michan. Roods […] pole […] perch: interchangeable and locally variable measurement terms. palace of justice: courthouse at 26 Green Street. George Fottrell: Clerk of the Crown and Peace. the giant’s

causeway: peninsula of interlocking basalt columns in County Antrim, Ulster. Holeopen bay: small bay in Kinsale Harbour, County Cork. missa pro defunctis: Latin, “mass for the dead.” Messrs Michael Meade and Son: builders, steam sawing, planing, and moulding mills, and merchants, 153–59 Great Brunswick Street. Messrs T. & C. Martin: Dublin-based merchants and manufacturers. sir Hercules Hannibal Habeas Corpus Anderson K. G., K. […]: fictional individual with mostly real titles, for example KG, Knight of the Garter, KP, Knight of Patrick, etc.

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When, lo […] brightness: “And it came to pass, as they [Elijah and Elisha] still went on, and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven. And Elisha saw it, and he cried, My father,

my father,” Kings 2:11–12. fair as the moon and terrible: after Song of Solomon 6:10. Abba! Adonai!: Hebrew, “Father! God!” ben: Hebrew, “son of.” Donohoe’s: pub and grocers, Donohoe and Smyth’s, 4–5 Little Green Street.

13 · “NAUSICAA” Vicki Mahaffey

21 Woman sitting on a wall

A young woman, devotee of cosmetics, fashion, and fiction, whom we later learn to be lame. A tired older man, seeking sexual release a few hours after his wife welcomed another man

into their bed. A twilight of hope and heartbreak for both. A mass offered up in hope of temperance for men. A stopped watch; a bat; an aborted message written in sand; a brief nap.

474 · Vicki Mahaffey

“Nausicaa” tells a continuous story via two different narrators, connected and separated by fireworks. The first style, a third-person account reminiscent of then-popular romance fiction, focuses on Gerty MacDowell, a young woman who will be twenty-two in November.1 The second conveys the first-person thoughts of Leopold Bloom, who has just watched Gerty provocatively display her “understandings” while bending back to watch the firework display. Written in a more accessible idiom than the preceding chapters,2 the episode offers refreshment not only to Bloom and Gerty, but to the reader, as well. After the wildly unconventional narratives of “Sirens” and “Cyclops,” its two narrative styles tell the story of the hour with relative straightforwardness, making it a target of the vice-vigilant censors. Not surprisingly, the limpid clarity of “Nausicaa” ­produced its own fireworks at mutual and consensual masturbation between an older man and an “over-ripe” virgin.3 The New York Society for the Suppression of Vice pushed for a lawsuit against the Little Review, which had just published the installment containing “Nausicaa,” and the book was subsequently banned. As Joyce later wrote to his friend Frank Budgen, “There is hell in New York about ‘Nausikaa’” (L III 30).4 In the context of the book as a whole, the episode kicks off a trio of episodes each dominated by a “symbol” for a different female sexual category identified in the schema: virgin,

1  Gerty’s age has been debated; see Peter Lee, “How Old Is Gertrude MacDowell?” James Joyce Quarterly 50:3 (2013), 819–24. 2  See Joyce’s description in a letter to Frank Budgen: “Nausikaa is written in a namby-pamby jammy marmalady drawersy (alto la!) style with effects of incense, mariolotry, masturbation, stewed cockles, painter’s palette, chitchat, circumlocutions, etc etc” (SL 246). 3  This was John Quinn’s phrase. Cited in Kevin Birmingham, The Most Dangerous Book: The Battle for James Joyce’s “Ulysses” (New York: Penguin, 2014), 168. Joyce comically condenses the scandal into a new name for the episode in Finnegans Wake: “Naughtsycalves,” FW 229:15. 4  See Birmingham, Most Dangerous Book, 154–211, for an account of the outrage against Ulysses.

mother, and whore. If the structure of Ulysses resembles a triptych, with a cluster of three episodes associated with Stephen, followed by a central twelve more closely linked to Bloom, and concluding with three that take Molly as a touchstone, “Nausicaa” precedes “Oxen of the Sun” and “Circe” as the first in a trifecta of the female sexual identities that Bloom is trying to navigate. Moreover, each of these sexual roles is fleshed out in highly embodied ways: the virgin gives (and receives) sexual pleasure; the mother is undergoing labor without anesthesia; the whore is running her brothel in Nighttown, the red-light district of Dublin. Such highly physical treatments of women defined in different ways by their sexuality is already an affront to a world that insists on judging – idealizing or castigating – rather than vividly imagining the different aspects or phases of female sexual existence. Readers and critics alike have tended to get sidetracked from the task of understanding and caring for the characters by the temptation to judge who is at “fault” in “Nausicaa”: Gerty, for being immodest and perhaps dishonest with herself about what she is doing and why, or Bloom, for the matter-of-fact, allegedly coldhearted way he notices her lameness as she walks away, and for seeming to take advantage of her innocence and need by intently watching as she covertly displays her usually hidden underclothing. The most difficult challenge offered to readers, however, is not to ally themselves with either youth or middle age, female or male, but to construct a context, a metaconscious awareness, that holds a place for both perspectives. In a sense, Gerty, Joyce’s “Nausicaa,” stages a meeting of needs: like her Homeric forerunner, Gerty needs a dream-husband around whom to weave an erotic romance. At the same time, Bloom needs a sexual release licensed by the memory of Molly as she was on the Hill of Howth: willing, aroused, outdoors. Characteristically, Joyce points the way to such larger narrative contexts through allusions to other works of art that serve to “frame” the characters’ experiences in ways that multiply interpretive possibilities and create parameters for readers’ reactions. In A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, the epigraph from Ovid’s Metamorphoses helped us contextualize Stephen

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Dedalus in relation to Daedalus, the creative inventor (he fashioned wings and a labyrinth to imprison the Minotaur) who was also dangerously volatile (he killed his nephew out of jealousy when the nephew invented the compass). Joyce uses a similar technique in “Nausicaa,” which is framed not only by Homer’s Odyssey5 but also by Samuel Butler’s The Authoress of the Odyssey6 and Maria S. Cummins’s 1854 The Lamplighter,7 whereas Bloom’s section echoes Joyce’s own “The Dead” and Washington Irving’s tale of “Rip van Winkle.” It is relatively easy to identify circumambient contexts, but it is another matter entirely to apply them to Joyce’s work in ways that illuminate something other than the prejudices of the commentator. Most new readers sympathize with Gerty, reacting against Bloom as an opportunistic

5  See Cynthia Hornbeck, “Greekly Imperfect: The Homeric Origins of Joyce’s ‘Nausicaa,’” Joyce Studies Annual (2009), 89–108. “Seen without the lens of a Victorian translation, Odyssey 6 becomes more patently concerned with Nausicaa’s sexuality, a feature so prominent in Homer that for years Nausicaa was grouped with Calypso and Circe as a third ‘temptress,’ the last obstacle Odysseus must conquer before reaching Ithaca.” Hornbeck also points out that the sixth book of the Odyssey is the only one dominated by a woman’s perspective (Nausicaa’s) (94), proposing that Gerty’s narrative is influenced by Nausicaa’s lengthy monologue (98). One of the most interesting facets of her argument is that Nausicaa and Gerty share an unrealistic ideal of marriage as a condition of mutuality or “likemindedness” (97). 6  See, for example, Timo Müller, “Gerty MacDowell, Poetess: Butler’s ‘The Authoress of the Odyssey’ and the Nausicaa Episode of Ulysses,” Twentieth Century Literature 55:3 (Fall 2009), 378–92. 7  The first important treatment of The Lamplighter as a context for “Nausicaa” was that of Suzette Henke, first in her book, The Miraculous Sindbook, and then revised for inclusion in Women in Joyce. “Gerty MacDowell: Joyce’s Sentimental Heroine,” in Women in Joyce, ed. Suzette Henke and Elaine Unkeless (Brighton: Harvester Press, 1982), 132–49. The fullest treatment is that of Kimberly Devlin, “The Romance Heroine Exposed: ‘Nausicaa’ and The Lamplighter,” James Joyce Quarterly, 22:4 (Summer 1985), 383–96. The best analysis of how Joyce begins the chapter with his own version of Cummins’s “sentimentally spiritualized landscape” can be found in Thomas Karr Richards’s “Gerty MacDowell and the Irish Common Reader,” English Literary History 52 (Autumn 1985), 756–57.

predator, a voyeur who, once he has achieved sexual climax, turns callous. No reaction is out of bounds, but reactions can be enriched, even transformed, when they are later reframed. What overturns a first impulse to take up cudgels on Gerty’s behalf is the realization that she is a willing participant in the encounter, even its initiator, although she cannot bear to bring her desire and need into consciousness. In the Odyssey, Odysseus, after eighteen days on a raft and three holding onto a beam while fighting the raging sea, crawls on hands and knees into a river delta on Phaeacia to sleep under a bed of leaves in the woods. Late the next day he is awakened by the screams of a beautiful princess and her attendants nearby, who are playing with a ball while waiting for the clothes they have washed to dry in the sun. Naked, filthy, covered in brine, he covers his private parts with a leafy branch from the undergrowth, and, like “a weathered mountain lion,” steps forth to encounter the young virgin Nausicaa, the only girl who holds her ground at his approach. She will be the means by which Odysseus gains entrance to the court of her royal parents, who will in turn provide him with safe passage home. Although Nausicaa will be disappointed in her wish to marry him (he is already married), the “white-armed” girl saves his life, and it is to the Phaeacians that Odysseus, “his great mind teeming,” tells the story of his odyssey. The important role played by Nausicaa in the epic is what prompted Samuel Butler to argue that she was in fact “the authoress of the Odyssey”; Joyce owned a copy of Butler’s strangely credible book in his library in Trieste. The scene of the well-traveled, much-tried man simultaneously revealing himself to and keeping his distance from a virginal young girl washing her wedding trousseau in the laundry pools of a river inspired not only the “Nausicaa” episode of Ulysses, but also serves Joyce as a touchstone for erotic relations between the sexes throughout his oeuvre; the man is dirty, the woman engaged in washing or cleaning away dirt.8 The man is naked, the woman ­identified 8  For just one example of how women clean dirty males, note Cissy’s response when four-year-old Tommy gets his clothes full of sand: “very quickly not one speck

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with clothing. The woman refreshes, revives, and preserves the man, much as she does the laundry. The Magdalen laundries of Ireland – pious institutions that served as prisons for fallen women, designed to clean them up – lurk in the background as a more sinister historical context for Joyce’s love of laundresses.9 Joyce’s lover Nora took in laundry at one point. Anna Livia Plurabelle in Finnegans Wake is the river Liffey in which women do laundry, as well as a woman who writes a letter to exculpate her husband for his sexual sins (see especially FW i.vi and i.viii). Having eschewed the “omniscient” narrator as his storyteller, choosing instead to hover close to the consciousness of his characters while changing styles at the drop of a hat, Joyce challenges readers to wean themselves – partially, never fully – from what any one character understands. This can only be done if readers assemble a larger interpretive context from hints that are dropped like breadcrumbs through the text. Some hints are broad, like the title of Ulysses, which points readers to Homer’s Odyssey for context, but others are more subtle, like The Lamplighter. How do we know whether a reference will be incidental or meaningful? We don’t, which is the fun of it. Readers are unable to readily imbibe the meaning of Joyce’s stories, as they can when an omniscient narrator serves it up festooned with a paper umbrella; instead, they get to construct that meaning, a challenge for which most readers are unprepared. Some meanings are richer in their implications than others, and different readers produce different results. Reading Joyce is a game that anyone hungry for deeper and sharper understanding can play. In “Nausicaa,” one of the claims that is almost universally made about Gerty’s section is that it

of sand was to be seen on his smart little suit” (332; 13:58–59). Compare the description of Mrs Sullivan in The Lamplighter to appreciate how common this trope was in the nineteenth century: “Her own dress was almost quaker-like in its extreme simplicity, and freedom from the least speck or stain,” 32. 9  See the laundry in Joyce’s story “Clay,” as well as James M. Smith, Ireland’s Magdalen Laundries and the Nation’s Architecture of Containment (South Bend: University of Notre Dame Press, 2007).

is written in a sentimental style that Joyce is lampooning for its euphemistic whitewashing of reality,10 but this is a judgment long overdue for thoughtful reconsideration. Sentimentality connotes a superficial or not completely honest emotional response, a charge that could certainly be leveled at Joyce’s Gerty, but it doesn’t adequately apply to the book after whose protagonist Gerty is named, Maria Cummins’s The Lamplighter. Gerty recalls Cummins’s book when looking at the lighthouses in the gathering twilight; she thinks, soon “the lamplighter would be going his rounds past the presbyterian church grounds […] like she read in that book The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales” (347; 13:629–34). The Lamplighter was the kind of novel that many women read. When the novel (Cummins’s first) was published in 1854, it sold 20,000 copies in the first month, a number that had reached approximately 60,000 by the end of the first year. Suzette Henke, in one of the first discussions of the relation between the “Nausicaa” episode and The Lamplighter, argues that “Joyce parodies Cummins’ saccharine style and makes fun of the pious religiosity of her protagonist.”11 But what if the pleasure Joyce takes in reproducing the oversweet style does not spill over into ridicule? Read more sympathetically, The Lamplighter can cast light on how the feelings of Gerty MacDowell parallel those of Leopold Bloom. In 470 pages, Cummins takes readers from Gerty Flint’s wretched childhood to her eventual marriage to her childhood sweetheart. Abused and neglected, she is thrown out into the street and rescued by a passing lamplighter, Trueman Flint, who adopts her and cares for her. Gerty learns emotional self-control and faith from another woman, Emily, who is blind, or “locked up in darkness.”12 The book slowly develops its theme of how the soul is illuminated; at first, the only light Gerty can see is True’s lantern, which nightly illuminates 10  Examples of critics who see Joyce’s stylistic parody as a hatchet-job on popular romance include Kimberly Devlin and Patrick Magee. 11  Henke, Women in Joyce, 134. 12  Cummins, The Lamplighter, 414.

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many other lamps. Emily, her next caretaker, radiates another, more spiritual kind of illumination, and the combination of these luminous humans eventually leads Gerty to God, the ultimate lamplighter. Light is crucial to a world in which “many a heart is weighed down and overshadowed by thick and impenetrable darkness.”13 The novel, then, is not pietistic in the usual sense. Its main concern is not to endorse dutifulness for its own sake, but to show how discipline and reason can be used to protect the human heart so that it retains its capacity to love and hope, even when its owner is overwhelmed with grief and woe. Significantly, when Gerty eventually learns her mother’s name, it reinforces the images of light and shadow that Cummins has been concerned with throughout: it is Lucy (which means light) Grey. The attention paid to the fragility of the heart and its crucial importance for human expressiveness and caring recalls Joyce’s depiction of Stephen’s mother, who prays at the end of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man that Stephen will come to learn “what the heart is and what it feels” (P 213). What critics sometimes forget is that to parody a work is not necessarily to lambaste or discredit it; it is, as the etymology implies, simply to sing alongside of it. It is worth considering the possibility that Joyce is singing alongside a novel that may have had a strong impact on many young Catholic girls – including Stephen’s mother, whom Gerty ­resembles14 – in an effort to imaginatively inhabit their hearts and minds, in a way that is simultaneously sympathetic and humorous. Effects in Joyce that seem self-evident are often actually Janus-faced; it is the reader who unconsciously chooses one of the two meanings and overlooks the other. Take the fireworks, for example, that, in Ulysses, occur on the evening of June 16, 1904 about half a mile away from Sandymount Strand. In the world 13  Ibid., 311. 14  See Thomas Karr Richards’s account of the parallels between Gerty’s treasure trove (347; 13:638–39) and that of Stephen’s mother (10; 1:255–56), troves he compares with that of Gerty Flint in The Lamplighter; see “Gerty MacDowell and the Irish Common Reader,” English Literary History 52:3 (Autumn 1985), 761–65.

of Ulysses, the Evening Telegraph for the day might have included an ad for a “Mirus Fete” at Ballsbridge in aid of Mercer’s Hospital, promising fireworks for the evenings of June 16 and 18, such as Ian Gunn reconstructed (see Figure 22).15 “Mirus,” Latin for “wonderful, marvelous, amazing, surprising, awesome,” deriving from a root that means “smile,” aptly describes Gerty’s fantasy-view of the world as well as the fireworks. But Joyce broadens the meaning of fireworks when he makes them a visual representation of Bloom’s orgasm as well: “My fireworks. Up like a rocket, down like a stick” (354; 13:894–95). The effect is both humorous and serious; the sexual release has helped both participants take heart and move forward. As Bloom thinks, “For this relief much thanks” (355; 13:939–40). Sexual connection, which here harms no one, restores the hearts of both. Physical desire and release harmonize with heavenly illumination; the apparent incongruity masks an underlying symmetry.16 Although the language of The Lamplighter waxes purple in places, although the narrator interrupts with moral lessons, and although the plot (especially at the end) draws heavily on melodrama, its exploration of the difficulty of feeling is not sentimental; it is thoughtful and heartfelt, and its overall purpose is unexpectedly congruent with Joyce’s own novelistic aim: like Ulysses, it probes how a suffering human being can survive and even grow given protracted, cruel twists of chance and the certainty of pain and loss. Although The Lamplighter is not great literature – it is dated, protracted, and 15  The text of Gunn’s advertisement for the Mirus Fete is taken from Cyril Pearl, Dublin in Bloomtime: The City James Joyce Knew (London: Angus & Robertson, 1969), 45. Gunn changes the dates from June 1 and 4 to June 18 and 18. Ed. 16  As Henke has also noted (139), The Lamplighter boasts a Leopold Bloom figure, Philip Amory, who turns out to be not Gerty’s lover but her father. He is described on the last page as an Odysseus, a “longwandering, much-suffering, and deeply-sorrowing exile” (470). As the book ends and he marries Emily, he “who has so long been a man of sorrow” receives a “new-born heart” (470). It makes sense to see Odysseus as a father figure rather than her fantasy lover, since in the Odyssey he fits both roles.

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22 Fragment of Ian Gunn’s composite, fictionalized, “Ulysses Telegraph Poster,” Split Pea Press, 1990

packed with cliches – it is not risible. When read in conjunction with “Nausicaa,” it serves to highlight the compassion and empathy (as well as amusement) with which Joyce presents both protagonists, despite and even because of their highly ordinary limitations. In Book 6 of the Odyssey, immediately before Odysseus issues naked from the woods, Nausicaa and her maids, “having thrown aside their veils,” play ball; as Cynthia Hornbeck explains, body-length veils were always worn by women in public.17 Homer’s Nausicaa, 17  Odyssey 6:100; Hornbeck, “Greekly Imperfect,” 101.

like Joyce’s Gerty, eschews nakedness while still allowing Odysseus a glimpse of what is normally hidden; Gerty describes this access to what underlies the veil as a “wondrous revealment half offered” (350; 3:732–33). She has invited Bloom to imagine not only her hidden sexuality but also her secret thoughts and desires. Language is another veil that half reveals and half conceals its meanings. When Bloom recalls watching a typist running up the stairs two at a time, he suspects her of wanting “to show her understandings” (355; 13:917): literally, under-standing means that which stands under, but when Bloom uses a

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13 Sandymount Strand

word for ­knowledge to ­designate underclothing it draws attention to the kinship between the two kinds of secrets. To see through a glass darkly is to be mortal and limited, but in “Nausicaa” Joyce ­highlights the other side of embodied vision: half-­apprehension also has a delicious, sensually pleasurable aspect. Clothing veils the body, much as language (and narrative) clothe the mind, half obscuring and half provocatively displaying what lies beneath.18 Narrative (like clothes) can be dirty or clean, which is one way 18  Stephen explicitly makes this connection in chapter 5 of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man when he is talking to his friend Davin: “the verses and cadences of others […] were the veils of his own longing and dejection” (P 232–34).

Joyce playfully deploys laundering from the Odyssey; moreover, men and mature individuals are more likely to be categorized as dirty, whereas women and youth tend to be clean (from inexperience, one supposes). The eroticism of Gerty’s half-revelation reminds readers that the erotic often depends upon aesthetic enhancements that disguise human imperfections; as Bloom thinks, “See her as she is spoil all. Must have the stage setting, the rouge, costume, position, music” (353; 13:855–56). Desirous spectators would sometimes like to freeze the desired object into an art object that can be admired and possessed. Bloom, like Gabriel Conroy in “The Dead,” wishes he had a painting of Molly – “Wish I had a full length oilpainting of her then” (359; 13:1091–92) – he would like to keep her as an art treasure.

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Although much has been written on the allure of Gerty’s ribbon-slotted undergarments and well-filled hose, almost nothing has been done on the unconscious way she has “washed” her inner narrative of any suggestion of dirt. Euphemism is a form of “washing” a dirty reality from the conscious mind, as the “Gerty” narrator does by referring to Tommy’s underwear as “unmentionables” (332; 13:55). Romance also cleanses the sex from a story, leaving only a rosy aura. Even gender, when viewed performatively, is, as Dominika Bednarska reminds us, “a process of selective display and concealment.”19 Finally, consciousness itself is a veil, and Joyce details the different levels of awareness of both Gerty and Bloom with equal amusement and empathy. Many excellent essays have been written on the sexual climax in this episode, but the best overall treatment is by John Bishop in “A Metaphysics of Coitus in ‘Nausicaa.’”20 What makes Bishop’s treatment so satisfying is his refusal to see Joyce as either exalting or degrading sexual desire; when he calls the connection between Gerty and Bloom both metaphysical and coital, he stitches the numinous or ethereal together with the fleshly and mortal in a way that aptly captures Joyce’s refusal to divorce them. Some readers accept and even defend Gerty’s cleaned-up version of events, regarding her as innocent and exploited by her more matterof-fact watcher; others, such as Philip Sicker, give convincing evidence of her own physical responsiveness to Bloom’s attention and the movement of her own legs as she gratifies his sight and achieves pleasure of her own.21 The fact that she doesn’t register her own sexual pleasure as such in her narrative makes it easier for like-minded readers to doubt that she experiences any. Henke, for example, writes that

19  Dominika Bednarska, “A Cripped Erotic: Gender and Disability in James Joyce’s ‘Nausicaa,’” James Joyce Quarterly 49:1 (Fall 2011), 79. 20  In Ulysses: En-Gendered Perspectives, ed. Kimberly J. Devlin and Marilyn Reizbaum (South Carolina: University of South Carolina Press, 1999), 185–209. 21  Philip Sicker, “Unveiling Desire: Pleasure, Power, and Masquerade in Joyce’s ‘Nausicaa’ Episode,” Joyce Studies Annual 14 (Summer 2003), 92–131.

although Gerty helps her lover come, “she fails to share the fruits of physical release.”22 One of the more unexpected ways Joyce differentiates between the sexuality of Gerty and Bloom is by associating their capacity for arousal with different senses: Gerty is invested in the eye, whereas Bloom is much more alive to smell. The Gilbert schema lists not one but two organs for the episode: the eye and the nose. As Bishop argues, the eye is “the organ of idealization,” as its etymology suggests (it derives from the Greek eido, to see).23 Gerty’s eye idealizes what it sees in the first half of the chapter, which is appropriately the tumescent section, since idealism magnifies. In contrast, Bloom’s nose “knows” the animal nature of life, which provides a “detumescent” conclusion (  Joyce listed “tumescence; detumescence” as the “Technic” of the episode). Bishop points out that smells are “more intimate, immediate, and primitive, less susceptible to idealization and cultural coding” than sights.24 As Bloom thinks, “Animals go by that [smell]” (358; 13:1030), and he accordingly tries to smell his own semen to see if it resembles “celery sauce” (358; 13:1041). Gerty idealizes Bloom by comparing him in her mind to a film star, but Bloom brings himself down to earth by identifying Gerty’s perfume: “Roses, I think. She’d like scent of that kind. Sweet and cheap: soon sour. Why Molly likes opoponax” (357; 13:1009–10). The sense of smell brings the perceiver down to earth; in Portrait, Stephen also used it to restore his sense of reality, calming himself with the odors of “horse piss and rotted straw” (P 72). Gerty’s reliance on the idealization of appearance and Bloom’s more animalistic interest in smell make them “beauty and the beast” (353; 13:837).25 It is evident even to novice readers that Gerty has been strongly affected by ads for cosmetics, such as the one for “eyebrowleine,” 22  Henke, Women in Joyce, 145. 23  Bishop, “A Metaphysics,” 188. 24  Ibid., 199. 25  See also Bednarska’s valuable discussion of the movement from ocularcentrism to the olfactory as Joyce’s creation of a new structure of desire in “A Cripped Erotic,” 83–85.

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advertised on the “Woman Beautiful page of the Princess Novelette,” (334; 13:110–11), and by predictions about fashion, as in the Lady’s Pictorial when it announces that electric blue would be worn (335; 13:150–51). Some readers are quick to read Gerty’s interest in consumer products as a logical extension of the fact that she is herself a commodity on the marriage market, and that in 1904 Dublin, she might be perceived as damaged or “shopsoiled” goods due to her lameness as well as her age. Thomas Karr Richards goes so far as to conflate her with the turn-of-the-century Irish common reader, arguing that such readers “have acclimated themselves to the world of goods to such an extent that they have become generalized and impoverished”; for him, Gerty is a one-dimensional product “of the collective pressure of the customs and ideology of a burgeoning consumer society.”26 It is important to supplement this view of Gerty’s helpless passivity with an exploration of her active artistry as a “painter” whose canvas is her own body. Pigeonholing her as either a subject or an object may be too limiting, especially in light of recent theoretical arguments that attribute agency even to material objects.27 Critics disagree about whether Gerty creatively participates and takes pleasure in her own commodification or whether she is simply a tool of the commodity culture that has produced her. What has received less attention is the role played by aesthetic objectification in erotic desire more generally. To what extent is Gerty’s willingness to objectify herself (and to be objectified) through cosmetic artistry matched by a comparable readiness to turn Bloom into an aesthetic object, at least temporarily, in order to derive sexual pleasure from his gaze? If women’s commodification is primarily the consequence of a social system that turns women into consumer goods, it has a private correlative in the language of possessiveness used by both men and women

towards their loved one. Does it change anything to say that the lover transforms the beloved momentarily into an aesthetic object? If so, then this is what Gerty does when she recognizes in Bloom the image of the handsome English actor John Martin-Harvey (see Figure 23). Such a view constitutes a revision to the old Pygmalion story: love, instead of merely bringing a statue alive, produces the statue and then brings it back to life as part of an ongoing erotic rhythm. The beloved as a work of art (instead of a cut of meat, say) also acknowledges uniqueness, design and exceptional value in the other, and the objectification is transient rather than permanent. Over the last ten years, the subject of disability has been increasingly important to discussions of “Nausicaa.” Dominika Bednarska gives an excellent overview of earlier treatments of disability in “A Cripped Erotic” as well as showing how disability relates to commodification: “Disability problematizes the process of commodification because it emphasizes the body’s particularity and idiosyncrasy.”28 Bednarska stresses Gerty’s “failure to become a

23 Sir John MartinHarvey

26  Richards, “The Irish Common Reader,” 755. 27  See, for just one example, Jane Bennett, Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2010).

28  Bednarska, “A Cripped Erotic,” 73–89, 81.

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commodity, both in terms of employment and marriage,” which is at least as important as her eagerness to be commodified.29 Perhaps the most startling essay on Gerty’s disability, however, is Angela Lee Nemecek’s account of how the site of Gerty’s sexual excitement and display – her legs – is also the site of her disability, which gives a double valence to her reference to her limp as a “shortcoming” (348; 13:650).30 The intertwining of Gerty’s disability with her sexual provocativeness increases the sexual subversiveness of her actions. Moreover, Nemecek persuasively contends that Gerty’s “identity as a disabled woman affords her critical distance from the all-consuming project of commodified, standardized femininity.”31 Finally, Nemecek argues that Gerty’s stigma aligns her with Bloom, who is also stigmatized, “carving out a critical space within Ulysses where critiques of compulsory normativity can, and must, be lodged in the face of ideologies of bodily perfectibility.”32 Bishop’s take on disability anticipates Nemecek’s argument in its insistence that Bloom “is a disabled twin to Gerty,” as wounded in his manhood by Molly’s infidelity as Gerty’s womanhood has been compromised by lameness.33 He ingeniously supports this argument by cataloguing the number of times the word “limp” appears in the episode, suggesting an application not only to Gerty’s lame leg but also to Bloom’s male equipment. For Bishop, pornographic fiction serves much the same purpose for Bloom as romantic fiction does for Gerty: both are compensations for disempowerment.34 29  Ibid., 81. 30  Angela Lee Nemecek, “Reading the Disabled Woman: Gerty MacDowell and the Stigmaphilic Space of ‘Nausicaa,’” Joyce Studies Annual (2010), 180. 31  Nemecek, “Reading,” 177. 32  Nemecek, “Reading,” 200. 33  Bishop, “A Metaphysics,” 191. 34  Ibid., 83. Maren Tova Linett also analyzes the extent to which disability and sexuality are treated as mutually exclusive: “In the ‘Nausicaa’ episode of Ulysses, disability replaces sexuality in that the first half of the chapter, whose style Joyce designated as ‘tumescence,’ treats Gerty as a sexual object, with disability largely absent; and the second half of the chapter, designated as

Finally, what are we to make of the fact that Gerty’s exhibitionism and Bloom’s avid voyeurism have a soundtrack that comes from the nearby mass in Mary, Star of the Sea? “And then there came out upon the air the sound of voices and the pealing anthem of the organ. It was the men’s temperance retreat […] They were there gathered together […] kneeling before the feet of the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto” (338; 13:281– 88). Later, we hear them chanting St Thomas Aquinas’s hymn, Tantum ergo sacramentum (344; 13:498–99). Is the intercessory power of the Virgin Mary designed as a serio-comic counterpart to the power of Gerty’s own virginity, and – in the background – that of Homer’s Nausicaa? Does the juxtaposition of holy and profane worshippers offer more than comic relief? Is Mary being invoked because she is an incarnation of the Immaculate (“her who was conceived without stain of original sin,” 341; 13:372–3) in an episode concerned with dirt and washing? Is Gerty to be understood as an analogue to Mary, the second Eve, or is she a throwback to the first Eve in dialogue with the serpent: “He was eying her as a snake eyes its prey” (344; 13:517)? Readers are given a whole menu of interpretive choices for classifying the exchange between Gerty and Bloom as sinful or holy or both. If readers find it hard to respect popular romance, they nonetheless tend to feel less critical of Gerty, cast as its heroine and easily misread as a victim, than they do Bloom. Why is it so much easier to leap to Gerty’s defense, seeing her as a disabled, commodified victim that he exploits, than it is to feel compassion for Bloom’s cuckolded position, his humiliation only a few hours old? Perhaps the reader participates in the tumescent and detumescent rhythm of the episode, swelling with feeling for the idealistic virgin and being deflated by the matter-of-fact afterthoughts of her wouldbe despoiler. Once again, it makes a difference to see how Joyce is framing Bloom’s monologue, which he does through allusions to two stories: his own ‘detumescence,’ focuses on her disability, with sex largely absent”; see Bodies in Modernism (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2016), 43–54.

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“The Dead” and Washington Irving’s “Rip van Winkle.” The most obvious way that “The Dead” enters the episode is through the fact that Father Conroy is one of the officiants at the nearby mass. We learn that Gerty rather fancies him and would like to give him a present – a ruched teacosy or a clock or an album of illuminated views of Dublin (342–43; 13:448– 65), but it isn’t until we get to Bloom’s section that we learn that he is Gabriel Conroy’s brother (360; 13:1126–27).35 The signposts pointing to “The Dead” help to remind readers that Bloom, like Gabriel, feels diminished by his wife’s relationship with another man. Bloom is pushing away the awareness that he is a cuckold, both when he fails to finish the message in the sand (“I […] AM. A”) and when his dreams are punctuated by the canarybird in the clock in the priest’s house crying “Cuckoo. Cuckoo. Cuckoo,” seemingly an address to him (364, 365; 13:1258–65, 1289–1306). A memory of “Rip van Winkle” underscores the impression that Bloom’s self-image has been dramatically tarnished; Bloom implicitly identifies himself with a man who slept for twenty years while the American Revolution happened, his wife died, and his children grew up. Feeling tired, Bloom contemplates the feeling that he’s been absent and missed the sexual juiciness that Blazes Boylan enjoyed: “He gets the plums, and I the plumstones” (359; 13:1098– 99). He contemplates returning to Howth where he and Molly once lay among the rhododendrons but decides against it: “Returning not the same” (360; 13:1103–4). Then he remembers a game of charades that he played with Molly at Luke Doyle’s house, Dolphin’s 35  Other allusions to “The Dead” include Bloom’s wish to have an oilpainting of Molly, recalling Gabriel’s desire to have one of Greta called Distant Music (359; 13:1091– 92, D 211), and the reference to a “Circus horse walking in a ring” (360; 13:1111–12), which resembles Patrick Morkan’s horse Johnny, the glue-boiler (D 208–9), who when taken out starts circling the statue of William of Orange.

barn seventeen years earlier (“Eightyseven that was,” 360; 13:1108) where they acted out Rip van Winkle: “Rip: tear in Henny Doyle’s overcoat. Van: breadvan delivering. Winkle: cockles and periwinkles. Then I did Rip van Winkle coming back. She leaned on the sideboard watching. Moorish eyes. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. All changed. Forgotten. The young are old. His gun rusty from the dew” (360; 13:1112–16). Later his memory of this night invades his dream: “me breadvan Winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams” (13:1282–83). In the seventeen years since playing charades, Bloom’s self-image, like Rip’s, has changed from that of “a kind neighbor, and an obedient henpecked husband,” quiet at home and “obsequious and conciliating abroad” to an old man with a foot-long beard, his phallic gun virtually useless.36 Of course, Irving’s story is also a reader-trap not unlike those of Joyce, because we are cajoled to accept Rip’s self-pitying view of himself, despite abundant evidence that he is a lazy, useless man who would drive anyone to tirades. The deceptive view from Rip’s perspective is designed to give the reader access to a double-sided or three-­ dimensional vision: he is both pitiable and partly responsible for the losses he has incurred; the blame for his losses cannot be attributed solely to “petticoat government.” When Rip returns to his village, some people think he is not right in the head, just as the narrative insertion of the canarybird emerging from its clockhouse to repeat nine “cuckoos” prompts readers to question whether Bloom’s self-pity is entirely rational. “Nausicaa,” then, offers two views of each of its characters, implicitly asking if readers can reconstruct a context that accommodates both. It produces a twi-light that works on the reader as powerfully as it affects Bloom and Gerty. 36  Washington Irving and Bliss Perry, Rip Van Winkle: Legend of Sleepy Hollow; The Devil and Tom Walker. The Voyage. Westminster Abbey. Stratford-on-Avon. The Stout Gentleman (New York: Doubleday & McClure, 1899), 6.

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Howth: see 168. Mary, star of the sea: Roman Catholic Church, off Leahy’s Terrace by Sandymount Strand. Many a time and oft: The Merchant of Venice

(i.iii.107). plucks: Hiberno-English, cheeks. H. M. S. Bellisle: HMS, His Majesty’s Ship; Belleisle, French, “beautiful isle.”

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G 13:40

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scatty: crumbling. dote: pet. Flora Mac Flimsy: “Miss Flora MacFlimsy of Madison Square,” fashion-obsessed Manhattanite heroine in William Allen Butler’s (1825–1902) 1857 poem “Nothing to Wear.” Martello tower: the Sandymount Martello Tower, rather than

Stephen’s tower at Sandycove; see 17. Irishman’s house is his castle: see 106. What’s your name? Butter and cream?: from a traditional Dublin street rhyme that continues, “All the way from Dirty Lane.” past mistress: after “past master,” expert.

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iron jelloids: gel lozenge iron supplement. Widow Welch’s female pills: medication for “irregularities in the Female System.” almost spiritual in its ivorylike purity: the Virgin Mary is called “Tower of Ivory” in the Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary, more popularly known as the Litany of Our Lady

of Loreto, a devotional prayer of medieval or more ancient origin. queen of ointments: slogan for Beetham’s Larola skin ointment. black out: HibernoEnglish, extremely (P.W. Joyce). hauteur: loftiness of manner or bearing. devoirs: formal respects, dutiful attentions.

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G 13:120

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Madame Vera Verity […] the Princess novelette: The Princess’s Novelettes, a weekly London magazine (1886–1904), published novelettes, serialized novels, and beauty and fashion features; Madame Vera Verity and the Woman Beautiful page are Joyce’s inventions. eyebrowleine: eyebrow pencil. boy that had the bicycle off the London bridge road always riding up (G, inclusion). exhibition

in the intermediate: school prize for competitive examinations taken by students aged 15–16 and administered by the Intermediate Education Board of Ireland. Trinity college: an Anglo-Irish, Protestant university. W. E. Wylie: competitor in the Half-Mile Bicycle Handicap, the bicycle race held in College Park on June 16; see 83.

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votary: devotee. dolly dyes: a brand of dyes for home use. Lady’s Pictorial: London weekly illustrated journal of fashion, art, literature, music, and drama. Tuesday week: Tuesday of the week before. chenille:

thick velvet cord used in trimming furniture. Clery’s: large department store; see 73. take the shine out of: humble. ash, oak or elm: colloquial expression, never ever.

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that was for luck: superstition that good luck follows from accidentally putting on a garment inside out. on inside out or if they got untied that he was thinking about you so long as it wasn’t of a Friday (G, inclusion). T. C. D.: Trinity

College, Dublin. paly: poetic, pale. Stoers’: Stoer’s (G, correction); see 240. man among men: from the poem “Abraham Lincoln,” by Samuel Valentine Cole (1851–1925).

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queen Ann’s pudding: custard pudding with bread crumbs, lemon rind, and raspberry jam. dredge in: sieve or sprinkle in. golden opinions: from Macbeth (i.vii.33). Garryowen: dog owned by Gerty’s grandfather, Giltrap; see 333. wigs on the green:

Hiberno-English, a fight. out of pinnies: old enough to dress in boys’ clothing, rather than in a baby’s pinafore. Anything for a quiet life: comedy (c.1617) by Thomas Middleton (1570–1627).

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G 13:260 for about hin getting him own way read about him getting his own way

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here’s the lord mayor […] chinchopper chin: variation of the nursery rhyme game, “Here sits the Lord Mayor.” golliwog: soft, colorfully dressed blackfaced doll with curly hair. John Hughes, S.J.: resident at the Presbytery House of St Francis Xavier in Upper Gardner Street. rosary […] Most Blessed Sacrament: evening devotion for the Blessed Virgin Mary, in

which the rosary is recited, a sermon is given, and the consecrated Host is presented for worship. fane: poetic, church or temple. taking the pledge: vowing to abstain from alcohol. powders […] in Pearson’s Weekly: London penny-magazine which ran advertisements for patent medicines that purportedly cured alcoholism. brown study: idle state of reverie or musing.

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man who lifts his hand […] lowest of the low: quote from the 1804 play The Honey Moon by John Tobin (1770–1804). Virgin most powerful, Virgin most merciful: from the Litany of Our Lady of Loreto. wrapt: rapt (G, correction). case of doctor Fell: to dislike someone without understanding why, after the epigram, later nursery rhyme, “I do not like thee, Doctor Fell.” concerning Dr John Fell (1625–86). With all his faults she loved him still: after Monroe H. Rosenfeld’s song “With All Her Faults I Love Her Still” (1888). Tell me, Mary, how to woo thee: popular song by G. A.

Hodson. My love and cottage near Rochelle: from the Act II aria of The Siege of Rochelle (1835). Lazenby’s salad dressing: prepared salad dressing manufactured by F. Lazenby & Son, Ltd, London. The moon hath raised: from the song “The Moon Hath Raised Her Lamp Above” from The Lily of Killarney (1862). group taken: group photograph. Catesby’s cork lino: see 242. ministering angel: Ophelia in Hamlet (v.i.262). menthol cone: cone of menthol and whale wax used for headache relief.

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chlorate of lime: common disinfectant and air freshener. Mr Tunney: see 240. her own arms that were white: the Odyssey’s Nausicaa also has white arms. Walker’s pronouncing dictionary: English

lexicographer John Walker’s (1732–1807) popular Critical Pronouncing Dictionary and Expositor of the English Language (1791).

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spiritual vessel, pray for us: from the Litany of Our Lady of Loreto. what the great Bernard said: the “Memorare” prayer is associated with St Bernard of Clairvaux. her who was conceived without stain of original sin: the Virgin Mary, of Immaculate

Conception; see 199. spiritual vessel, pray for us, honourable vessel: from the Litany of Our Lady of Loreto. possing: soaking, splashing. soothering: Hiberno-English, cajoling, flattering (Dolan).

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Bailey light on Howth: Bailey lighthouse, on the Hill of Howth. Martin Harvey: Sir John Martin-Harvey (1863–1944), English actor and theatrical producer, frequently performed in Dublin in the early 1900s. retroussé: French, turned up. more sinned against than sinning: from King Lear (iii.ii.60). those cyclists

showing off: risqué in 1904. memory of the past: from the song “There Is a Flower That Bloometh” in the opera Maritana (1845). Refuge of sinners […] Ora pro nobis: from the Litany of Our Lady of Loreto; Latin, “pray for us.” the seven dolours: that is, the seven sorrows of Mary, relating to Jesus.

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Father Conroy: see 242. Canon O’Hanlon: parish priest at St Mary, Star of the Sea, in Sandymount. Dominican nun in their white habit: in 1904, Dominican nuns wore white gowns and black hooded cloaks. novena of Saint Dominic: nine-day devotion culminating in celebration of the saint’s feast. be it done unto me according to Thy Word: Virgin Mary to the archangel Gabriel at the Annunciation,

Luke 1:38. the forty hours’ adoration: during which the Blessed Sacrament is exposed and prayers are made, roughly the time Christ was in the tomb before the Resurrection. tide might come in: the tide turned at 7 p.m. on June 16, 1904. thingamerry: like “thingamajig,” a thing whose name can’t be remembered. high crooked French heels: see 506.

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Tableau: French, scene, painting, picture. Queen of angels, queen of patriarchs: from the Litany of Our Lady of Loreto. thurible: censer, vessel containing incense. Tantum ergo: hymn sung during the benediction ceremony, after the Blessed Sacrament is exposed. Tantumer gosa carmen tum: jumbled version of the above hymn’s first line, Tantum ergo Sacramentum, literally “Hence so greatly the Sacrament,” usually

translated as “Down in adoration falling.” Sparrow’s of George’s street: clothing store, 16 South Great George’s Street. Easter: Easter Sunday was on April 3, 1904. brack: fabric flaw. streel: “untidy person, usually female” (Dolan). glorious rose: a symbol of the Virgin Mary. flush: flash (G, correction). baby: babby (G, correction).

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half past kissing time […]: “low catchphrase reply to a female asking a man the time” (Beale). waterworks: euphemism for urinary organs.

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cope: cloak-like vestment, usually silk, worn by ecclesiastics in ceremonies. Panem de coelo præstitisti eis: Latin, “You have shown them bread from heaven,”

from the Benediction. throw my cap at: that is, pursue romantically. kinnatt: “a mean, insignificant, unpleasant person” (Dolan).

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Billy Winks: sleep. compliments to all and sundry on to his brandnew (G, inclusion). Puddeny pie: from the nursery rhyme, “Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie.” contretemps: dispute. the veil that Father Conroy put round him […]: the humeral veil covers the hands for holding sacred vessels. the last glimpse of Erin: from Thomas Moore’s “Tho’ the Last Glimpse of Erin with Sorrow I See.” those evening bells: from Thomas Moore’s “Those Evening Bells.” presbyterian church: at the intersection of Tritonville

Road and Sandymount Road. Tritonville avenue: small dead-end street near the shore. freewheel: bicycle wheel able to rotate freely with the pedals at rest, a newer technology in 1904. The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins: 1854 popular sentimental novel by Maria Susanna Cummins (1827–66); the heroine is named Gerty Flint. child of Mary badge: The Children of Mary, a Catholic girls’ society attached to a nearby convent in Sandymount. pouncetbox: small box for holding perfumes.

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Hely’s of Dame Street: see 102. Art thou real, my ideal? […] by Louis J. Walsh, Magherafelt: Louis Walsh (1880–1942), from Magherafelt on Lough Neagh, was a classmate of Joyce’s at university; in Stephen Hero, Stephen quotes these same “tawdry lines” with disdain (SH 83). silent tears for she felt that the years (G, inclusion). Love laughs at locksmiths: 1803 play by George Coleman (1762– 1836). cruel only to be kind: from Hamlet (iii.iv.178).

accommodation walk: street frequented by prostitutes. days beyond recall: from “Love’s Old Sweet Song”; see 61. dream of love: from Thomas Moore’s “Love’s Young Dream.” into the tabernacle and genuflected and the choir (G, inclusion). Laudate Dominum omnes gentes: the first line of Psalm 117, which ends the Benediction; Latin, “Give praise to the Lord, O ye nations.”

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bazaar fireworks: from the Mirus Bazaar; see 174. rossies: Hiberno-English, strumpets (Dolan). Congested Districts Board: governmental body created in 1891 to address urban poverty and

overcrowding. absolution so long as you didn’t do the other thing before being married: according to Church doctrine, a good confession and penance can lead to absolution for all sins.

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nainsook: type of Indian cotton. an infinite store of in the Litany of Our Lady of Loreto. little bats don’t tell: mercy: the Virgin Mary is called the “Mother of Mercy” variation on the proverb “little birds don’t tell.”

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Tranquilla convent: see 148. rock oil: petroleum. M’Coy […] wife engagement: see 72, 77. Catch em alive, O: a late nineteenth-century catchphrase, with echoes of the anonymous Irish song “Molly Malone.”

Mutoscope pictures: early, often lewd, motion pictures visible through coin-operated, hand-cranked devices. Peeping Tom: title of a 1901 mutoscope film.

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delete comma after comes

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deshabillé: scantily clothed; see 226. He wore a pair of gaiters the night that first we met: after the song “She Wore a Wreath of Roses the Night When First We Met,” by Joseph Philip Knight (1812–87) and Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797–1839). O Mairy […]: see 76. on the track of the secret: after In the Track of the Sun; see 662. Mary, Martha: see 76. Barbed wire: see

148. Tableau: see 344. Wonder if it’s bad to go with them: Jewish law requires menstruating women to maintain physical distance, Leviticus 15:19–33. Turns milk […] withering plants: superstitions regarding menstruating women. Kiss in the dark and never tell: variation on the phrase “kiss and tell,” from Love for Love (1695) by William Congreve (1670–1729).

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dexter optic: dexter, Latin, “right”; hence, right eye. Holles street: see 151. Drimmie’s: David Drimmie & Sons, insurance offices, 41 Sackville Street, where Bloom worked from 1896 to 1897. Shark liver oil: animal oils were used for oiling machinery before petroleum oil. Nell Gwynn: see 198. Mrs Bracegirdle: (1663–1748) English actress. Maud Branscombe: English actress popular at the turn of the century. off

there behind the wall coming out (G, inclusion). Lacaus esant taratara: mangled version of “La causa è santa, tara tara”; see 160. plan however of you: plan however if you (G, correction). in a cart: in a predicament (Beale). the Appian way: main street in Ranelagh, residential area, southern Dublin. Mrs Clinch: 24 Synnott Place; near Bloom’s address. Meath street: in South Central Dublin.

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Burton: see 153. French letter: condom. lieutenant Mulvey: Molly’s first boyfriend, named after Nora’s previous boyfriend from Galway, Willie Mulvagh. Moorish wall beside the gardens: the Moorish Wall and Alameda Gardens, two landmarks in Molly’s native Gibraltar. Glencree dinner: see 148. featherbed mountain: see 49. Up like a rocket, down like a stick: expression, after Thomas Paine’s (1737–1809) characterization of Edmund Burke’s short-lived enthusiasm for the American revolution. the ways of

the world: after William Congreve’s The Way of the World (1700). Jammet’s: Michel and François Jammet’s hotel and restaurant, Dublin’s only French restaurant at the time. say prunes and prisms: cliché, from Charles Dickens’s Little Dorrit, “Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes, and prism are all very good words for the lips.” lovely seaside girls: see 60. Wilkins in the high school: Thom’s lists W. Wilkins as Erasmus Smith High School’s headmaster, although Bloom is apparently remembering him as a classmate.

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Cuffe street: at St Stephen’s Green’s southwest corner. Roger Greene’s: see 242. understandings: legs (Beale). Presscott’s: see 172. Lombard street west: see 106. pins: legs. Beef to the heel: see 63. monkey puzzle: Chilean pine tree. Cissy and Tommy and Jacky ran out to see (G, inclusion). For this relief much thanks: from Hamlet (i.i.8–9), Francisco to Bernardo upon being relieved from guard duty. Your

head it simply swirls: “Seaside Girls”; see 60. address Dolphin’s barn a blind: that is, Martha’s address is likely fake; see 268. false name however like my name and the address (G, inclusion). Jemima Brown: Jemina Brown (G, correction), from Harry Clifton’s song “Jemina Brown, or the Queen of the Sewing Machine”; Bloom’s couplet is adapted from the minstrel song “Hunkey Dorum, We Are the Boys.”

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Every bullet has its billet: proverb, nothing happens by chance. potwalloping: sound produced by the boiler of a steam engine. papa’s pants will soon fit Willy: from American nonsense song “Looking Through the Knothole.” fuller’s earth: hydrous silicate of alumina used to clean grease from cloth. Coffee Palace: see 258. Mrs Duggan […] City Arms: Mr and Mrs Joseph Duggans, 35 Prussia Street, near the City Arms hotel,

Bloom’s 1893–94 residence. knock spots off: defeat decisively (Beale). height of a shilling in coppers: that is, not tall. Marry in May and repent in December: combines two clichés, “marry in haste and repent in leisure” and “May–December romance.” foreskin: contrary to Jewish tradition, Bloom is uncircumcised. Pill lane: see 285.

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ghesabo: Hiberno-English, tall building or object; gazebo, is a small, roofed structure used for entertainment or relaxation. horse show: see 117. Lombard street west: see 106. How Giuiglini began:

Italian tenor Antonio Giuglini (1827–65); Bloom’s claim that he started as a house painter is unsupported. opoponax: scented myrrh. jessamine: jasmine. dance of the hours: see 67. Cinghalese: see 69.

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Hyacinth perfume made of oil: ether or ester compounds were common in synthetic perfumes of this period. Muskrat: perfume from, or a smell similar to, the secretion of the musk-deer. hogo: from French, haut goût, a highly flavorful dish. Cigary gloves Long John had […]: see 256. The tree of forbidden priest:

after the tree of the forbidden fruit, Genesis 2:17. Meagher’s: see 115. sit: abbreviation of situation. prize titbit story: see 65. Corns on his kismet: kismet means fate, and “fate” sounds like some Irish pronunciations of “feet.” Whistle brings rain: from the superstition that whistling to the sea can bring storms.

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Old Betty’s joints are on the rack: from Edward Jenner’s (1749–1823) poem “Signs of Rain,” line 12. Mother Shipton’s prophecy: Mother Shipton, a supposed prophetess who predicted the deaths of several members of Henry VIII’s court. royal reader: Royal Readers textbooks, standard exam texts used by Ireland’s Intermediate Examination Board. Bailey light: see 342. Grace Darling: (1815–42), daughter of William Darling, keeper of Longstone lighthouse, celebrated in Wordsworth’s 1843 poem “Grace Darling.” lightingup time: for cyclists to light their lamps. Red rays are longest: red light has the longest

wavelength. Roygbiv: mnemonic for the colors of the rainbow. when three it’s night: Jewish custom, night begins when three stars are visible. a phantom ship: 1835 novel by Frederick Marryat, reworking the legend of the Flying Dutchman. Land of the setting sun: Ireland, as Europe’s westernmost nation, apart from Iceland. Homerule sun setting: see 55. My native land, goodnight: from Lord Byron’s Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage (1823). fluxions: flows, vaginal discharges. Ye crags and peaks I’m with you once again: from James Sheridan Knowles’s (1784–1862) 1825 play William Tell.

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for drew read dew

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Nothing new under the sun: Ecclesiastes 1:9. Rip van Winkle: Washington Irving’s (1783–1859) story “Rip Van Winkle.” Sleepy Hollow: another Washington Irving story, “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” Metempsychosis: see 62. changed into a tree from grief: grieving Phaëthon’s death, his sisters, the Heliades, became poplar trees in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. odour of sanctity: the sweet scent saints reputedly give off when they die. Gabriel Conroy’s brother: in

“The Dead,” Gabriel Conroy’s brother Constantine is a “senior curate in Balbriggan” (D 187). bird in drouth […] pebbles: from Aesop’s story “The Crow and the Pitcher.” Glass flashing […] burning glass: apocryphal, Archimedes is said to have repelled a Roman naval invasion at Syracuse by using mirrors to ignite the hulls of their ships. heather goes on fire: Howth wildfires are common in summer.

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Archimedes. I have it!: Archimedes exclaimed Eureka!, Greek, “I have found it!” when he discovered his law of buoyancy; see 69. Faugh a ballagh: Irish, “Clear the way.” like snuff at a wake: see 90. when the stormy winds do blow: from the song “The Mermaid” (1840). till Johnny comes marching home again: title of Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore’s (1829–92) Union Army marching song in the American Civil War. The anchor’s weighed: title of a song by John Braham and S. J. Arnold. scapular: article of devotion worn about the neck; see 57. tephilim no what’s this […]:

a “mezuzah,” an inscribed parchment attached to the home’s doorpost, following Jewish law; “tephilim,” small wearable leathern box containing four scriptural texts. hanging on to a plank: Odysseus thus survives the storm created by Poseidon and washes up on Princess Nausicaa’s shore. his nibs: Hiberno-English, yer man, that person. cockalorum: small self-important man. lost long candle: last lonely candle (G, correction). shepherd’s hour […] hour of tryst: “l’heure du berger,” French, the shepherd’s hour, an ideal time for a tryst. lintstock: forked staff used to hold a lighted match.

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Kish bank the anchored lightship: see 44. Irish Lights board: the Commissioners of Irish Lights were responsible for supervising and maintaining lighthouses and lightships. Erin’s King: see 64. Crumlin: former village, now southwest Dublin suburb. Babes in the wood: proverbial expression, gullible. Calomel: type of laxative. Buena Vista. O’Hara’s tower: two lookout

points on Gibraltar. Barbary ape: tailless monkey inhabiting Algeria, Morocco, and Gibraltar. Sundown, gunfire: the Gibraltar of announcing the hours of the day with gun-fire. Buenas noches, señorita. El hombre ama la muchacha hermosa: Spanish, “Good evening, miss. The man loves the pretty young woman.” Leah: see 73. Lily of Killarney: see 89.

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G 13:1220

for was is read was it

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wild man of Borneo: contemporary song “The Wild Man of Borneo Has Just Come to Town,” structured on progressively built-up verses (“The wife of the wild man of Borneo ... The child of the wife of the wild man of Borneo,” etc.). Everyone to his taste […] kissed the cow: from Swift’s Polite Conversation, “everyone as they like; as the good woman said, when she kiss’d her Cow.” put the boots on it: “to kick a prostrate foe” (Beale), here, to add another bad event to a bad day. Houses of mourning: see 269. Scottish widows: The Scottish Widows’ Fund (Mutual) Life Assurance

Society. Cramer’s: Cramer, Wood, & Co., pianoforte gallery and music warehouse. widow’s mite: generosity, Mark 12:42. poisoned by mussels here. The sewage: Dublin’s still-incomplete 1904 sewer system contaminated the Liffey and Dublin Bay with sewage and caused disease. U. p.: up: see 151. Mailboat: the last mailboat for Holyhead, and ultimately London, left Kingstown Harbor at 8.15 p.m. (Thom’s). ad of Keyes’s: see 116. Bread cast on the waters: from Ecclesiastes 11:1.

518 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Nausicaa” · 364

G 13:1260

G 13:1280

No fear of big vessels: Dublin Bay is shallow and was subject to silting. Round the Kish in eighty days: after the 1872 novel Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne. Liverpool boat: steamships to Liverpool left Dublin every day at noon and 8 p.m. bracegirdle:

see 353. met him pike hoses: see 147. Mulvey plump bubs me breadvan Winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return (G, inclusion); see 354. Agendath: see 58. next year in drawers: see 118. Cuckoo: crazy; cuckold.

365 · “Nausicaa”

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G 13:1300

14 · “OXEN OF THE SUN” Sarah Davison

“I think this episode might also have been called Hades for the reading of it is like being taken [to] the rounds of hell” (  JJ 476). These were the thoughts of Harriet Shaw Weaver, Joyce’s patron, on reading “Oxen of the Sun.” Many readers today feel the same way. The episode is fiendishly difficult to read and interpret because the action is obscured by Joyce’s decision to narrate events through parodies of English prose styles from Anglo-Saxon onwards, a technique that frustrates and challenges readers at every turn. This circumstance is particularly infuriating because it is the first episode in which Bloom pays Stephen direct attention. Readers have had to wait a long time for the two men to meet and interact, having been teased with a series of near misses earlier on (at the offices of the Evening Telegraph in “Aeolus,” near the book cart in “Wandering Rocks,” and outside the library in “Scylla and Charybdis”). Now that the time has finally come, readers must show something of the resolve that sustained Odysseus through his long trials and persevere with the adventure that Joyce described as “the most difficult episode in an odyssey, I think, both to interpret and to execute” (L I 137). Joyce was supremely aware that language carries echoes of the past and constructs its own reality, which is inevitably a distortion of the real. Parody was the technique Joyce utilized to reveal this duplicity. It underlies his entire oeuvre, becoming ever more conspicuous, disruptive, and experimental, culminating

in the parody of language itself in Finnegans Wake. Not only does Ulysses begin with Buck Mulligan performing a mock-Catholic mass, but the whole novel stands in mock-heroic relation to Homer’s Odyssey. In the middle chapters parody comes to usurp what Joyce called the “initial style” (L I 129) (a flexible combination of third-person narration, free indirect discourse, and interior monologue). “Cyclops” swings from first-person narration to parodic flights of fancy, undermining the reliability of any singular perspective while mocking the premises of Irish revivalism. Readers of “Nausicaa” are apt to attribute the “namby-pamby jammy marmalady drawersy (alto là!) style” (L I 135) of the first half of the episode to Gerty MacDowell and assume that her thoughts and actions are focalized through the kind of language she has encountered in women’s magazines and popular literature (until they are re-established in Bloom’s dejected interior monologue, when it becomes unclear whether or not “it all took place in Bloom’s imagination”).1 “Oxen” continues the cultural work of using parody to interrogate distorting discourses by turning attention to the institution of English literature itself, insisting that literature is always historicized language in unstable play before it is representation. Although the style of “Oxen” is certainly off-putting, the underlying action is fairly 1  Arthur Power, Conversations with James Joyce, ed. Clive Hart (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1982), 32.

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straightforward. Bloom calls in at the National Maternity Hospital at 29–31 Holles Street to enquire after Mrs Purefoy, who is struggling to give birth to her ninth child. (He learned she was in labor in “Lestrygonians” [151; 8:276– 90].) Bloom has a chat with Nurse Callan, and then Doctor Dixon invites Bloom into the doctors’ mess, where Stephen is drinking with the medical students and other hangers-on. The outrageous pseudo-medical banter about sex, birth control, obstetrics, and infant and maternal mortality pains Bloom, who is conscious that the conversation is disrespectful to Mrs Purefoy and the miracle of life. Her agonized labor cries put him in mind of Molly’s travails and the loss of their son Rudy, a circumstance that renders the sight of young Stephen squandering his talent even more distressing: But Sir Leopold was passing grave maugre his word by cause he still had pity of the terrorcausing shrieking of shrill women in their labour and as he was minded of his good lady Marion that had borne him an only manchild which on his eleventh day on live had died and no man of art could save so dark is destiny. (373; 14:264–68)

After Mortimer Edward Purefoy is born (399; 14:1310), the assembled company head to Burke’s pub in a thunderstorm at Stephen’s instigation to continue drinking. Mulligan and Lynch resolve to go to a brothel, suffering Stephen to join them at least for now. Bloom decides to follow Stephen to Dublin’s red-light district out of fatherly concern, setting up the action of “Circe.” Paternity is a key motif throughout Ulysses. Understanding how Stephen theorizes fatherhood provides a crucial key to understanding the technique of “Oxen” and its wider significance. Stephen’s emotional distance from his biological father, Simon Dedalus, is balanced by a profound need to atone with the figure of the father in a symbolic sense. It informs his theory of Hamlet in “Scylla and Charybdis,” whereby he maintains that Shakespeare identified with Hamlet and Hamlet’s father’s ghost simultaneously (and by implication achieved a level of consubstantiality akin to the Holy Trinity). Stephen holds that having written

Hamlet Shakespeare was “no more a son, he was and felt himself the father of all his race” (199; 9:868–69), which is to say the author of all of us and a creator of god-like potency. It follows that the Irish artist who wants “to create a figure which the world will set beside Saxon Shakespeare’s Hamlet” (177; 9:43–44) must also come into that “mystical estate” of fatherhood if he is to join the “apostolic succession” (199; 14:838) of great artists whose works define their nation and their time. In “Oxen,” Joyce uses parody to simulate the “apostolic succession” of the male prose stylists through whose hands the progress of English language and culture has passed. By the logic of Stephen’s theory, Joyce becomes the progenitor of all who went before him, “the father of all his race,” the supreme artist working in English, and thus the Irish Shakespeare. It was an audacious tactic that left many authors wondering what on earth they might do to follow him. T. S. Eliot informed Joyce, “I have nothing but admiration; in fact, I wish, for my own sake, that I had not read it.”2 It was also the episode of Ulysses that Anthony Burgess most

2  Valerie Eliot, ed., The Letters of T. S. Eliot: Volume 1, 1898–1922 (London: Faber & Faber, 1988), 455.

24 The National Maternity Hospital, 29–31 Holles Street

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14 Holles Street Hospital to Westland Row

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wished he had written: “It is an author’s chapter, a dazzling and authoritative display of what English can do. Moreover, it is a fulfilment of every author’s egotistical desire not merely to add to English literature but to enclose what is already there.”3 Joyce set out his vision for the episode in detail in a letter to Frank Budgen: Am working hard at Oxen of the Sun, the idea being the crime committed against fecundity by sterilizing the act of coition. Scene: Lyingin-hospital. Technique: a ninepart episode without divisions introduced by a SallustianTacitean prelude (the unfertilized ovum), then by way of earliest English alliterative and monosyllabic and Anglo-Saxon […] then by way of Mandeville […] then Malory’s Morte d’Arthur […] then a passage solemn, as of Milton, Taylor, Hooker, followed by a choppy Latin-gossipy bit, style of Burton/Browne, then a passage Bunyanesque. […] After a diarystyle bit Pepys–Evelyn […] and so on through Defoe–Swift and Steele–Addison–Sterne and Landor–Pater–Newman until it ends in a frightful jumble of pidgin English, nigger English, Cockney, Irish, Bowery slang and broken doggerel. This progression is also linked back at each part subtly with some foregoing episode of the day and, besides this, with the natural stages of development in the embryo, and of faunal evolution in general. Bloom is the spermatozoon, the hospital the womb, the nurse the ovum, Stephen the embryo. How’s that for High? (L I 138–39)

The letter announces “Oxen” will recapitulate the progress of English prose style through history from its origins to the present, which it links to other forms of “embryological development,” including the nine months of human gestation (hence “ninepart”) and the processes of evolution at large, as well as the symbolic meeting between Bloom (the “spermatozoon” and therefore the father), the nurse (the “ovum” and thus the maternal element), and Stephen (the “embryo” and son) in the suggestive environs of the maternity hospital (the womb). 3  Anthony Burgess, Re-Joyce (New York: Ballantine, 1965), 155–56.

There is a suggestion here that Stephen’s artistic soul – albeit embryonic – will be quickened in this episode by dint of meeting with Bloom. Stephen’s own literary theory in “Scylla and Charybdis” (which he himself doubts) is focused on the paternal to the detriment of the maternal (which he abjures and which therefore haunts him in the guise of his visions of his dead mother). However, his meeting with Bloom in the lying-in hospital reasserts the vital importance of the maternal to creative ­endeavor. In “Oxen” childbearing becomes an explicit metaphor for the act of literary creation. When Stephen says “In woman’s womb word is made flesh but in the spirit of the maker all flesh that passes becomes the word that shall not pass away” (373; 14:292–94) he rehearses a biblical maxim, but as an artist he fails to see that it is in the womb of the imagination that the god-like author performs the miracle of transforming language into something wondrous that conjures its own reality, being consubstantial with not only the father and the son but the mother too. The ambitious plan Joyce set out for “Oxen” had a basis in evolutionary science, specifically Ernst Haeckel’s influential (now outdated) biogenetic theory that ontogeny (the embryological development of the individual organism) recapitulates phylogeny (the evolutionary history of species).4 Joyce extended this concept to account for all evolutionary processes, a move that enabled him to link human gestation to artistic succession and the rise of English prose. He would later designate the underlying “technic” of the episode as “Embryological development” in the Gilbert schema. To bring such a complicated plan to bear would require hard labor indeed, comparable – in the symbolic scheme of things at least – to the “stiff birth” (151; 8:284) poor Mina Purefoy endures. In total “Oxen” cost Joyce “about 1,000 hours’ work” (L I 141). The “idea” for the episode, “the crime committed against fecundity by sterilizing the act of coition,” is summarized in a snappier form in “Oxen” itself in the line “Copulation w ­ ithout 4  Ernst Haeckel, The Riddle of the Universe at the Close of the Nineteenth Century, trans. Joseph McCabe (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1900).

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population! No, say I!” (402; 14:1422). To thwart fecundity is to frustrate “Embryological development,” a circumstance that should make readers wary of treating Joyce’s pronouncements about the episode’s design as if they were totalizing statements. The “idea” derives from a rather eccentric reading of the adventure in Homer’s Odyssey in which Odysseus’s crewmen break the oath they swear not to harm the sacred cattle of the sun-god Helios, giver of life, and feast on their flesh. The outrage the crewmen commit against the god of fertility finds an equivalent in the raucous behavior and offcolor conversation of the drunken revelers who talk of contraception and misbirth. It is therefore appropriate that Stephen denounces birthcontrol in terms that evoke the sun-god Helios, making reference to “those Godpossibled souls that we nightly impossibilise, which is the sin against the Holy Ghost, Very God, Lord and the Giver of Life” (372; 14:225–27). Bloom himself committed this very crime in the previous episode, masturbating over Gerty MacDowell. And yet in “Oxen” Bloom assumes the symbolic role of the “spermatozoon.” This tension between sterility on the one hand and fertility on the other has implications for how readers respond to the episode’s technique. Do Joyce’s parodies of historical styles attest to the fertility of language, its steady growth and progress? Or has Joyce in fact committed a crime comparable to that of Odysseus’s crewmen, devouring the sacred cows of the English literary tradition, killing off prose styles, rendering them impotent and barren in the process? “Oxen” begins with invocations to the sun as a source of fertility (along the lines of “let us go east in the direction of the sun to Holles Street,” “may the sun send new life to Sir Andrew Horne (the master of the hospital),” and the joyous cries of a midwife holding a newborn baby aloft), linking the Homeric theme to the narrative action. The recapitulation of the embryological development of English prose style starts with three paragraphs written in a painfully contorted Latinate language and syntax that constitute a homily on the excellence of Irish medicine, and its role in maternity care and the “proliferent continuance” of the nation (366; 14:15). The style then picks up something of the cadence of Anglo-Saxon allitera-

tive verse, then Middle English, and so on, in broad agreement with the letter to Budgen. In a nod to the Homeric theme, “Oxen” is full of bovine word-play and features a long conversation that begins with a mention of the effects of foot and mouth disease on the Irish cattle trade and quickly ­ segues into a ribald disquisition on the exploitation of Ireland by the Catholic Church and the English (“farmer” Nicholas being Nicholas Breakspear, the Pope who issued a Papal bull granting Ireland to Henry II, aka “lord Harry” [379–82; 14:529–650]). Once the narrative action gets underway there is fun to be had trying to work out what is going on, spotting the echoes of different literary periods and genres, and guessing which authors or texts might have inspired choice words and phrases. For instance, when Bloom enters the maternity hospital he recognizes Dixon, but the terms of their acquaintance are reimagined as Middle English Romance, owing something to The Travels of John Mandeville and the courtly tales of Sir Thomas Malory: And the traveller Leopold was couth to him sithen it had happed that they had had ado each with other in the house of misericord where this learning knight lay by cause the traveller Leopold came there to be healed for he was sore wounded in his breast by a spear wherewith a horrible and dreadful dragon was smitten him for which he did do make a salve of volatile salt and chrism as much as he might suffice. (369; 14:126–31)

In keeping with the fantastical elements of the literature of this period, Joyce indulges in mock-heroic inflation at Bloom’s expense. The dreadful dragon in question is of course the bee whose sting sent the hypochondriac Bloom to the hospital “2 weeks and 3 days previously” (663; 17:1449), even though he did not suffer anaphylaxis (94; 6:380–81). While the hyperbole that arises from dressing up present-day events in the garb of the past can be amusingly mock-heroic, the realist base remains intact even though the style is transformed. The characterization is consistent with previous episodes. Bloom is introduced with great hyperbole in a manner a­ ppropriate to fourteenth-century prose as the traveling

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knight “sir Leopold,” “the goodliest guest” and “the meekest man and the ­kindest that ever laid husbandly hand under hen” (370; 14:182–84), but the underlying attitudes and values are recognizably his all the same. He remains very much an outsider and spends a lot of the episode “ruminating, chewing the cud of reminiscence” (392–93; 14:1041–42), thinking about the past as conversation flows around him, much as he does earlier in the day. Stephen is his usual aloof self: “reserved young Stephen […] the most drunken that demanded still more of mead” (371; 14:195). He has been drinking on an empty stomach since the middle of the day and he still has a thirst on him. Minor characters are also unchanged. For instance, Lenehan is recognizably the same lecherous and unscrupulous lowlife who first appeared in Dubliners: He was a kind of sport gentleman that went for a merryandrew or honest pickle and what belonged of women, horseflesh or hot scandal he had it pat. To tell the truth he was mean in fortunes and for the most part hankered about the coffeehouses and low taverns with crimps, ostlers, bookies, Paul’s men, runners, flatcaps, waistcoateers, ladies of the bagnio and other rogues of the game or with a chanceable catchpole or a tipstaff often at nights till broad day of whom he picked up between his sackpossets much loose gossip. He took his ordinary at a boilingcook’s and if he had but gotten into him a mess of broken victuals or a platter of tripes with a bare tester in his purse he could always bring himself off with his tongue, some randy quip he had from a punk or whatnot that every mother’s son of them would burst their sides. (379–80; 14:533–44)

Preoccupied with women, horse-racing, and gossip, hard-up, drifting through down-at-heel establishments, drinking with other chancers, consorting with a police informant (presumably Corley in “Two Gallants”), able to talk his way out of trouble with charm and witty one-liners, in truth the Lenehan of Dubliners and Ulysses could have walked straight out of the pages of a picaresque novel, and the ruse of describing him as if he were an archetypal eighteenth-century rascal succeeds in bringing his rakish character vividly to life.

The emphasis on gestation and procreation encourages readers to reflect on Joyce’s own creative practices and ponder the processes by which such a virtuoso piece of ­writing came into being. Joyce could not have created the impression that “Oxen” stampedes through the annals of English prose without having done some research first. Twenty sides of densely written preparatory notes in Phillip Herring’s Joyce’s “Ulysses” Notesheets in the British Museum provide an extraordinary window to Joyce’s working practices.5 The “Oxen” notesheets contain nearly 2,000 distinctive words and phrases adapted from literary works and linguistic studies that Joyce owned, as well as various memoranda concerning the growth of the human fetus. Joyce copied out items of archaic diction that were sufficiently distinctive to be redolent of a specific period or author and then used these word lists to enrich the narrative as he was writing. Because he tended to jot down curious examples in roughly the same order in which he read them, scholars have been able to treat the sequences of fragmentary notes as snippets of genetic code that can be securely matched to an individual source.6 It transpires that Joyce made extensive use of anthologies such as William Peacock, English Prose from Mandeville to Ruskin (1903), A. F. Murison, Selections from the Best English Authors: Beowulf to the Present Time (1901), and Annie Barnett and Lucy Dale, An Anthology of English Prose: 1332 to 1740 (1912), suggesting that he was primarily interested in responding to contemporary narratives concerning the progress of English language and literature rather than the meanings of individual literary

5  Phillip F. Herring, ed., Joyce’s “Ulysses” Notesheets in the British Museum (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1972), 162–264. 6  The scholar who has contributed most to our understanding of Joyce’s sources for “Oxen” is Robert Janusko, who published the first genetic account of the episode: The Sources and Structures of James Joyce’s “Oxen” (Epping: Bowker, 1983). Other source hunters include J. S. Atherton, Gregory Downing, Harold Beck, Danis Rose, and the author of this chapter. See the James Joyce Digital Archive to explore Joyce’s sources for Ulysses in an interactive form (www.jjda.ie). Accessed September 29, 2020.

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works.7 These popular primers present excerpts from the most canonical authors in chronological sequence to “illustrate the development of English prose” without ever really acknowledging the wider European – or Irish – traditions that nourished these literatures.8 Joyce supplemented these materials with primary editions of literary texts and authoritative studies of the English language, including: George Saintsbury’s A History of English Prose Rhythm (1912), which contains technical commentary on grammatical and syntactical patterns; studies of the historical development of English words by the philologist Richard Chenevix Trench (Protestant archbishop of Dublin and grandfather to the real-life model for Haines); Londinismen: Slang und Cant (c.1902), a dictionary of English slang aimed at a German audience; “Sea Words and Phrases from the Suffolk Coast” (1869); and books that feature nonstandard Englishes such as Thomas Burke’s Limehouse Nights: Tales of Chinatown (1917) and American author Bret Harte’s Tales of the West.9 Joyce’s sources show that he was not just interested in the Englishes of canonical writers celebrated by anthologists and catalogued by English literary historians and philologists. He was interested in Englishes from outside the mainstream, slang and cant, and variants spoken in outlying regions and by immigrant

7  William Peacock, English Prose from Mandeville to Ruskin (London: Oxford University Press, 1912); A. F. Murison, Selections from the Best English Authors: Beowulf to the Present Time (London: Chambers, 1907); Annie Barnett and Lucy Dale, An Anthology of English Prose: 1332 to 1740, with a preface by Andrew Lang (London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1912). 8  Peacock, English Prose, v. 9  George Saintsbury, A History of English Prose Rhythm (London: Macmillan & Co., 1912); Richard Chenevix Trench, On the Study of Words, 21st edition (London: Kegan Paul, Trench and Trübner, 1890); Londinismen: Slang und Cant (Berlin: Langenscheidtsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, c.1902); Edward FitzGerald, “Sea Words and Phrases from the Suffolk Coast,” first published in East Anglian, or, Notes and Queries on Subjects Connected with the Countries of Suffolk, Cambridge, Essex, and Norfolk 3 (1869), 347ff.; Thomas Burke, Limehouse Nights: Tales of Chinatown (London: Grant Richards, 1917); Bret Harte, Tales of the West (London and New York: T. Nelson & Sons, Ltd, n.d.).

populations. “Oxen” does not simply recapitulate the evolution of the English language and its literatures. Instead it interrogates the very premises of blithely nationalist histories of the kind perpetuated by textbooks and turn-ofthe-century anthologies that affirm literatures, traditions, lineages, and etymologies that are as oppressive as they are exclusive by resisting their teleological structures and running the episode into linguistic chaos. Not only does “Oxen” end in a “frightful jumble” of spoken Englishes, but the foregoing stylistic imitations prove to be no less jumbled on close inspection. While the description of Lenehan above certainly smacks of Daniel Defoe, no single text by Defoe is parodied. Joyce took “merryandrew,” “tester,” “honest pickle,” “burst his sides,” and “every mother’s son” from “A Quack Doctor,” a character sketch by Defoe in Peacock’s collection.10 The novel Colonel Jack was the source for “what belonged of women,” “hankered about,” “crimps,” “broad day,” “boilingcook,” “gotten,” “mess,” “victuals,” “punk,” and “bring himself off with his tongue.”11 Joyce drew “mean in fortunes” from Sir Henry Wotton in Barnett and Dale’s anthology and “chanceable” from Sir Philip Sidney in Murison’s.12 Jonathan Swift was the source for “sackpossets.”13 It would be a mistake to think that any paragraph of “Oxen” constituted a “pure” imitation of any single author or text. Although the narrative gives the strong impression of forward progression through time, the whole episode is a mishmash of innumerable fragments from multiple literary and linguistic sources, some attested by the notesheets, some plucked from other books or Joyce’s capacious memory. The level of fusion and anachronism on display should perhaps come as no surprise. After all, Joyce compounded authors’ names and historical styles in the letter to Budgen. Haeckel’s 10  Peacock, English Prose, 132–34. 11  Daniel Defoe, Life, Adventures, and Piracies of Captain Singleton and Life of Colonel Jack (London: George Bell & Sons, 1908), particularly 265–98. 12  Barnett and Dale, Anthology, 76; Murison, Selections, 83. 13  Jonathan Swift, A Tale of a Tub, The Battle of the Books and other Satires (London: J. M. Dent & Sons, 1916), 49.

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law states that the embryo remembers all the stages in its evolution. Joyce s­imilarly remembers all the stages in the development of English prose as he advances towards the “frightful jumble” of dialect and doggerel that marks the entrance of his stylistic pageant into the present day. Nevertheless, critics and editors have been so swept along by the sheer virtuosity of Joyce’s tour de force that they tend to gloss “Oxen” for readers by breaking it down paragraph by paragraph into a series of parodies of individual authors. But Joyce’s parody does not ridicule authors’ idiosyncrasies. Instead, Joyce practices a form of literary plagiarism that dampens the voices of illustrious forebears to reveal – in Harry Levin’s words – “Joyce the Jacobean divine, Joyce the Restoration diarist, Joyce the Augustan essayist, Joyce the Gothic novelist.”14 As much as the description of Lenehan is eighteenth-centuryesque, it is also conspicuously Joycean in its expansive impulses toward listing, cataloguing, and drawing on multiple texts to proliferate the play of meaning. The level of blending on display in “Oxen” interferes with the capacity of style to be evocative, wrongfooting and dissatisfying readers who assume that it enacts a historical progression only to find themselves disorientated by so many different echoes and cadences. In this way, Joyce liberates his narrative from the “nightmare” of history, providing resistance to fixed chronologies and the illusion of progress in the very act of miming their course. It is worth noting that the Linati schema lists “Frauds” as a symbol for the chapter because Joyce practices much deception in this trickiest of episodes. “Oxen” is a prime example of what Joyce would later call “stolentelling” (FW 424:35), passing off ambivalent and compromised imitations as if they were the real thing, when they are authored by Joyce all along. Eliot read the episode as a revelation of “the futility of all the English styles,” which he meant as an affirmation of Joyce’s talent as an artist.15 14  Harry Levin, James Joyce: A Critical Introduction (London: Faber & Faber, 1960), 95. 15  Eliot quoted in Virginia Woolf, The Diary of Virginia Woolf, ed. Anne Olivier Bell (London: Hogarth Press, 1978), vol. ii, 203.

But parody as a technique was not futile, but fertile: a principle of genesis that – in Joyce’s hands – could be used to create literary forms and languages that were truly unprecedented. Thunder and lightning signal the violent transformation of the narrative style into the language of the present day. The atmosphere becomes pregnant with possibility. Lightning strikes and “the serried stormclouds, heavy with preponderant excess of moisture, in swollen masses turgidly distended, compass earth and sky in one vast slumber, impending above parched field and drowsy oxen and blighted growth of shrub and verdure till in an instant a flash rives their centres and with the reverberation of the thunder the cloudburst pours its torrent, so and not otherwise was the transformation, violent and instantaneous, upon the utterance of the word” (401; 14:1384–90). The word Stephen cries out is “Burke’s!” (401; 14:1391), an urgent call to the assembled company that they head to the pub of that name at 17 Holles Street, so that they might continue drinking. The “air without is impregnated with raindew moisture, life essence celestial” (402; 14:1406–7) and there is a general sense that things are quickening. On leaving, Bloom notes that Nurse Callan is with child, whispering close in going, “Madam, when comes the storkbird for thee?” (402; 14:1405–6). In this fecund climate, a new mode of writing is born: drunk, slurred, but vitally alive, energized by slang, archaism, dialect, and the rhythms of the spoken word. Readers are confronted with a cacophony of voices as Stephen and his friends head “off for a buster, armstrong, hollering down the street” (403; 14:1440), determined to get drunker still, walking arm-in-arm, shouting as they go. When they arrive at Burke’s, they get their orders in and apply themselves to knocking back “more bluggy drunkables” (405; 14:1528–29) before time is called. Mulligan seeks to provoke Stephen, insulting him and taunting him with the knowledge his aunt is writing to Simon Dedalus to complain that his son has been leading her nephew astray (404; 14:1486–88). There is a sighting of the man in the mackintosh, who is said to wander the streets heartbroken (406; 14:1546–55). Mulligan then declares his intention to Lynch that they should head to a “Bawdyhouse” (406; 14:1573). Stephen

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decides to tag along, spouting Latin. Bloom follows, as implied by Mulligan’s ­ question “Whisper, who the sooty hell’s the johnny in the black duds?” (406; 14:1575). (Bloom is still dressed in the clothes he wore to Paddy Dignam’s funeral.) Readers later discover that somewhere between the end of “Oxen” and the beginning of “Circe” Mulligan has contrived to give Stephen the slip following a nasty incident at Westland Row (575; 16:249–51). It is not always clear who is talking in the final paragraphs of “Oxen” (403–7; 14:1440– 1591) as the drinkers josh each other, putting on mocking accents for each other’s amusement and switching codes with dizzying rapidity:

As the style veers from Cockney to crass approximations of Chinese English and Black American vernacular, to upper-class English, via Scots, to faux-French, the obnoxious, unthinking racism on display is on a par with the appalling anti-Semitism to which Bloom is subjected. The final paragraphs of “Oxen” are a prime example of the “rebellion through racial ventriloquism” that Michael North identifies as fundamental to the rise of modernist literature in The Dialect of Modernism.16 While modern readers are right to baulk at appropriation of this kind, the “frightful jumble” of loan-words

and phrases inspired by cultures from across the globe, including German (“Uebermensch” [403; 14:1467]), mock Yiddish (“Vyfor you no me tell?” [405; 14:1525]), Spanish (“Caramba!” [404; 14:1470]), and French (“Horryvar, mong vioo” [405; 14:1522]), insists that the English language is not the exclusive product of England’s national history and culture but is instead invigorated from beyond its shores. It is therefore appropriate that “Oxen” concludes with the words of an American evangelical preacher. Alexander J. Christ Dowie is heard delivering a histrionic sermon outside Merrion Hall, forewarning of the coming apocalypse, a future moment in which the past is held to account (406–7; 14:1580–91). His message, “Elijah is coming!” (406; 14:1580) – Elijah who will “turn the heart of fathers to the children, and the heart of children to their fathers” – prophesies the impending encounter between Bloom and Stephen and invokes the paternity motif that is crucial to Joyce’s familial model of literary creativity.17 In the final paragraphs of “Oxen,” Joyce deforms English to insist that the future of the language and its literatures will make full use of the dialects of marginalized communities, immigrant populations, and speakers in outlying regions, a gesture that anticipates the gloriously distorted, supra-­ national, multi-­ lingual tongue of Finnegans Wake. The “Oxen of the Sun” episode of Ulysses can thus be read as an assured statement of Joyce’s own evolution as both an artist and a parodist, one who has outdone powerful precursors and established the necessary creative authority to forge the emergent consciousness of his time and ­inaugurate a new epoch for art.

16  Michael North, The Dialect of Modernism: Race, Language and Twentieth-Century Literature (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 9.

17  Malachi 4:6.

Up to you, matey. Out with the oof. Two bar and a wing. You larn that go of they there Frenchy bilks? Won’t wash here for nuts nohow. Lil chile velly solly. Ise de cutest colour coon down our side. Gawds teruth, Chawley. We are nae fou. We’re nae tha fou. Au reservoir, Mossoo. (404; 14:1502–6)

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G 14:20

Deshil Holles Eamus: “Deshil,” Anglicization of deasil, Irish, turning to the right, sunwise, a “ritual gesture to attract good fortune, and an act of consecration when repeated three times” (P. W. Joyce); Holles Street, location of the National Maternity Hospital; Eamus, Latin: “Let us go”; thus, “Let us go rightward towards Holles Street,” repeated three times “in the manner of the Fratres Arvales” (Gilbert), ancient Roman priests who conducted fertility rites. Send us bright one […] quickening and wombfruit: prayer to the sun as a source of fertility (Gilbert). Horhorn: Sir Andrew

Horne, was master of the Lying-in Hospital (1894– 1908). Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa!: “triumphant cry of the midwife” (Gilbert). Universally that person’s […] ever irrevocably enjoined?: faux Latinate paragraphs, described by Joyce as a “Sallustian-Tacitean prelude (the unfertilized ovum)” (L I 139–40); for Roman historians Sallust and Tacitus, see 129 and 313. omnipollent: all-powerful, from the Latin pollens, powerful. lutulent: muddy. semblables: fellows; after poem “Au Lecteur,” Charles Baudelaire. inverecund: immodest.

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G 14:40

G 14:60

that evangel simultaneously […] reiteratedly procreating function ever irrevocably enjoined: evangel, doctrine or principle, suggesting God’s command to Adam and Eve to “Be fruitful, and multiply ...” Genesis 1:28. It is not why therefore […] had been begun she felt!: style of medieval Latin prose chronicles (Gilbert). the art of medicine shall have been highly honoured: Irish medicine was renowned as far back as the fifteenth century (P. W. Joyce). sweating chambers: an ancient Irish cure. the O’Shiels, the O’Hickeys, the O’Lees: prominent

families of Irish physicians. loose boyconnell flux: diarrhoea associated with the Buide-Connaill (boyconnell) plague in the sixth and seventh centuries (P. W. Joyce). a plan was by them adopted: the Rotunda Hospital was established in 1745 as the first lying-in hospital in the British Isles. Before born babe bliss had […] sorrowing one with other: critics have found traces of Ælfric (c.955–1022) in the passage, which features mock Anglo-Saxon alliterative, monosyllabic, rhythmic prose, as well as Middle and modern English.

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G 14:80

G 14:100

sejunct: distinct. Seventy beds […] in twelve moons thrice: Holles Street had sixty-nine beds and treated 1500 patients in 1904. to thole: to wait, to endure. so God’s angel to Mary quoth: Gabriel’s annunciation to Mary, Luke 1:28. twey: two. bedthanes: nurses. eft: again. swire: Anglo-Saxon, neck or throat. levin: Middle English, lightning. welkin: sky or heavens. fordo: kill. rathe: quickly. infare: enter. wotting: knowing. stow: place. over land and seafloor nine years: Odysseus’ wanderings. townhithe: harbor. weeds swart: black clothes. grameful: full of grief. algate: always. shriven: absolved. housel: the

Eucharist. sick men’s oil to his limbs: the sacrament of extreme unction. nun: Old English, nunne, a respectful term for an older woman. Mona island: Anglesey, an island off the coast of Wales. bellycrab: cancer of the stomach. Childermas: December 28, Holy Innocents Day, in commemoration of the children slain by Herod, Matthew 2:16–18. wanhope: despair. Therefore, everyman, look to that […] chiding her childless: combines a pastiche of Middle English prose with phrases from the King James Bible, modern English, etc.; Everyman, c.1485 medieval morality play.

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G 14:120

G 14:140

every man that is born of woman: “Man that is born of woman is of few days, and full of trouble,” Job 14:1. as he came naked forth […] he came: “Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither,” Job 1:21. unneth: difficult. set it forth all to him for because she knew the man that time was had lived nigh that house (G, inclusion). a young face: a fair face (G, correction). Nine twelve bloodflows: nine years of menstruating. And whiles they spake […] Almighty God: critics have found traces here of Travels of Sir John Mandeville (c.1356–7),

a late fourteenth-century compilation of fantastic travel stories. mickle: great. yclept: called. couth: known. the house of misericord: the Mater Misericordiae Hospital; misericordia, Latin, “compassion.” chrism: sacramental balm. cautels: stratagems. avis: opinion. reproved: repreved (G, correction), censured. trowed: believed. mandement: command. list: will. venery: hunting or sexual indulgence. swinking: laboring. Mahound: Middle English, the prophet Muhammed, or heathen god. Vessels […] out of seasand: glass bottles.

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G 14:160

G 14:180

blares into: blases in to (G, correction). strange fishes […] olive press: canned sardines. nist: didn’t know. wheatkidneys out of Chaldee: Chaldea was a region in southwest Asia associated with brewing and alchemical magic. vast moutain: vast mountain (G, correction). childe: youth of noble birth. halp: obsolete, past tense of help. apertly: openly. This meanwhile

this good […] murdered his goods with whores: prompted by Joyce, critics have detected traces in this passage of Sir Thomas Malory’s (d.1471) compilation of Arthurian legend, Morte d’Arthur (1485). alther: of all. Expecting each moment to be her next: Lenehan’s version of the stock phrase “Expecting each moment to be his last.”

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G 14:200

G 14:220

saint Mary Merciable’s: version of Mater Misericordiae. Alba Longa: Irish term for Scotland. mien of a frere: face of a brother. clepen: called. gested: entertained. red: variant of rede, to counsel. aresouns: variant of areason, a questioning. Eblana: Dublin; see 282. leeches: doctors. the woman should bring forth in pain: “Unto the woman [the Lord God] said ... in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children,” Genesis 3:16. but the law nor his judges

did provide no remedy: neither the law nor court precedent answered the question of whether to save an endangered mother or baby during delivery. the wife should live and the babe to die: the students go against Roman Catholic doctrine that held that the child should be saved so it could be baptised. palmer and beadsman: pilgrim and man of prayer. Saint Ultan of Arbraccan: Irish bishop, patron saint of sick and orphaned children (d.657). let: hinder.

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G 14:240

G 14:260

limbo: doctrinally, the realm of the souls of unbaptized babies. gramercy: contraction of “God grant us mercy.” sin against the Holy Ghost: the body is the temple of the Holy Ghost, 1 Corinthians 6:19. leman: lover. unicorn: associated with Christ in medieval bestiaries. saint Foutinus: first bishop of Lyons in France (third century), the genitals of whose statue were soaked in wine to produce remedies for infertility. bewray: disclose. orgulous: proud, haughty. law of canons: established by papal decree and council statutes. Lilith: in Judaic mythology, Adam’s first wife and a

demon who tormented pregnant women. bigness wrought by wind of seeds of brightness: Zephyrus, the west wind, fathered Achilles’ horses; Zeus impregnated Danae in the form of a shower of gold. as Virgilius saith: Virgil’s Georgics describe Zephyrus and the mares. effectu secuto: Latin, Scholastic principle, “one performance following another.” in her bath: in which a man has ejaculated. at the end of the second month: Aristotle’s theory. the fisherman’s seal: symbol of St Peter on the Pope’s ring. birth and death pence: payments for the funeral mass and baptismal service.

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G 14:280

G 14:300

maugre: despite. akeled: cooled. of real parts: of genuine capacity. murdered his goods with whores: John Wyclif’s (c.1328–84) Sermon on the Prodigal Son; Luke 15:30. About that present […] rest should reign: includes elements of Elizabethan prose chronicles. vicar of Christ: the pope. vicar of Bray: seventeenth century song about an adaptable clergyman. Now drink […] my soul’s bodiment: after Jesus at the Last Supper, Matthew 26:26–28. fraction: breaking of bread in the Eucharist. them that live by bread alone: those without faith, Matthew 4:3–4. time’s ruins build

eternity’s mansions: Blake; see 24. rose upon the rood of time: dedicatory poem of Yeats’s The Rose (1893). word is made flesh: John 1:14. Omnis caro ad te veniet: “All Flesh will come to You”; see 47. aventried: put in the womb. corse: living body. Aginbuyer: Middle English, Christ. mother most venerable: from the Litany of Our Lady of Loreto. Bernardus: St Bernard of Clairvaux. onmipotentiam deiparae supplicem: Latin, “the omnipotence of the mother of God in petition.” she is the second Eve: Eve brought death into the world; Mary made possible our redemption.

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G 14:320

G 14:340

anastomosis: linkage across vessels or channels. penny pippin: apple. knew him: also, to have sexual intercourse with. was but creature of her creature: was created by her own son. vergine madre, figlia di (sic) tuo figlio: Italian, “Virgin mother, daughter of thy son,” St Bernard’s address to Mary (Paradiso 33). or she knew him not: either she was not aware of the divinity of Jesus or she was not impregnated by the Holy Spirit. Peter Piscator: St Peter denied knowing Christ, Matthew 26:69–75. Joseph the Joiner: see Mulligan’s poem, 18. parce que M. Leo […] ventre de Dieu!: French, “Because Mr. Leo Taxil has told us

that the one who put her in this wretched position was the sacred pigeon, God’s bowels!” Entweder transubstantiality oder subsubstantiality: German, “either” the bread becomes the body and blood of Christ “or,” in a debased version of the heretical doctrine of substantialism, Jesus is of a lower nature of being than his mother. without joy […] without bigness: Mary is free both of sin and of the pains of birth. Staboo Stabella: unpublished bawdy ballad by Oliver St John Gogarty. put in pod: (Elizabethan slang) made pregnant. Almany: Germany. gasteful: frightful. megrims: low spirits. rudeness some and

shaked him with menace (G, inclusion). chode: chided. murrain: plague. chuff: coarse person; see I Henry IV (ii.iv) for more of these insults. cognisance: heraldic crest. margerain gentle: gentle marjoram. To be short this passage […] of a natural phenomenon: includes elements of sixteenth- and seventeenthcentury Latinate prose styles, including Milton, Richard Hooker (1554–1600), Sir Thomas Browne (1605–82), and Jeremy Taylor (1613–67). obedience […] poverty: Stephen travesties the priestly vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience.

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G 14:360

G 14:380

Ut novetur […] mysterium: Latin, “That the whole mystery of physical sexuality may become known.” hymen minim: marriage song. To bed, to bed: song from Beaumont and Fletcher’s play The Maid’s Tragedy (c.1610). quadrupedal proscenium: bed. they had but the one doxy between them: according to Aubrey’s Brief Lives; see 180. stews: brothels. life ran very high in those days: see 196. custom of the country: play (c.1628) by Fletcher and Philip Massinger (1583–1640). Greater love than this […] wife for his friend: perversion of Jesus’s “Greater love hath no man than

this, that a man lay down his life for his friends,” John 15:13. Go thou and do likewise: Jesus, of the Good Samaritan, Luke 10:37. Orate, fratres, pro memetipso: Latin, “Brothers, pray for me.” Remember, Erin, thy generations and thy days of old: combines Thomas Moore’s song “Let Erin Remember the Days of Old,” with Moses, “Remember the days of old, consider the years of many generations,” Deuteronomy 32:7. to wax fat and kick like Jeshurum: see Deuteronomy 32:15; Jeshurun, Hebrew, “righteous,” or Israel. Therefore hast thou sinned […]: Lamentations

5:7–8. Return, return, Clan Milly: echoes the Song of Solomon 6:13; Clann Mileadh, Irish, the Milesians; see 314. merchant of jalaps: see 7. and didst deny me to […]: the submission of Israel to Rome and Persia Ahasuerus. Horeb: Sinai, where Moses receives the commandments, Exodus 24–31. Nebo: mountain given to the children of Israel, Deuteronomy 32:48–52. Pisgah: see 143. the Horns of Hatten: mountain range west of the Sea of Galilee. flowing with milk and money: Exodus 33:3.

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G 14:400

septuagint: Greek translation of the Old Testament. Orient from on high which brake hells gates: Christ, rising from the dead, broke the gates of hell, Gospel of Nicodemus. foraneous: utterly remote. Assuefaction minorates atrocities: familiarity with atrocities lessens their effect; Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations (45 bce). Hamlet his father […] combustion: the ghost cannot tell of “eternal blazon,” Hamlet i.v.18–22. ubi and quomodo: Latin, “where” and “the manner.” ends and ultimates […] inceptions and originals: Aristotle’s understanding of the unfolding of being. The aged sisters draw us: three Fates in Greek

mythology. First saved from water […] fasciated wattles: baby Moses in Exodus 2:5. at last the cavity of a mountain: Moses’ tomb in Deuteronomy 34:5–6. ossifrage: osprey. ubicity of his tumulus: location of his sepulchral mound. Tophet: place of evil and fire, Isaiah 30:33. Etienne chanson: French, “Stephen, Song.” wisdom hath built herself a house: Proverbs 9:1. the crystal palace: erected for the 1851 Great Exhibition in London. a penny for him who finds the pea: shell game. Behold the mansion […] bivouac: George Shepard Burleigh’s 1857 parody of “The House that Jack Built.” dedal: skilful.

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G 14:420

G 14:440

an old Nobodaddy: Blake’s wrathful god; see 197. the discharge of fluid from the thunderhead: electricity was thought to be a fluid until the mideighteenth century. But was young Boasthard’s […] bring brenningly biddeth: parody of the allegorical style of John Bunyan’s (1628–88) Pilgrim’s Progress (1675). Bringforth: God to Eve, “in sorrow shalt thou

bring forth children,” Genesis 3:16. Phenomenon: in pseudo-scientific jargon, God. Believe-on-Me: after “he that believeth on me shall never thirst,” John 6:35. no death and no birth neither wiving nor mothering: Jesus’s explanation of life after Resurrection, Mark 12:25. Bird-in-the-Hand: proverbial expression.

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G 14:460

G 14:480

shield of oxengut: condom. brenningly: burningly. So Thursday sixteenth […] queerities no telling how: parodies seventeenth-century diarists John Evelyn (1620–1706) and Samuel Pepys (1633–1703). quags and tofts: marshes and homesteads. the big wind […] land

so pitifully: a prolonged gale struck Dublin in February 1903; see 13. In Ely place […] up to Holles Street: Mulligan’s route from the gathering at George Moore’s house to the Maternity Hospital. the Rt. Hon. Mr Justice Fitzgibbon’s door: 10 Merrion Square North.

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G 14:500

G 14:520

(that was a papish but […] a good Williamite): George Moore became a Protestant in 1903. a cut bob: short hair. Saint Swithin: (d.862) feast day July 15. brangling: brawling. having dreamed tonight […]: see 363. pleading her belly: requesting a stay of execution because of pregnancy, as in Defoe’s Moll Flanders. on the stools: in labor. Lady day: the Feast of the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary, March 25. bit off her last chick’s nails: after the superstition against using scissors to cut a child’s nails before it was a year old. king’s bible: King James Bible; Mr

Purefoy, as a member of the Methodist Church, takes communion. dapping on the sound: to fish by dropping the bait lightly on the water. Malachi’s almanac: predicts the fires of God’s judgment, Malachi 4:1. Mr Russell has done […] for his farmer’s gazette: Russell’s Irish Homestead; Russell was also interested in Theosophy and Eastern religions. With this came up […] sent the ale purling about: after the style of Defoe, who is also mimicked elsewhere in the episode. that went for: who styled himself as. merryandrew: buffoon.

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G 14:540

G 14:560

pickle: mischievous young man. crimps: swindlers. ostlers: stablemen. Paul’s men: idlers or swindlers, after the men who congregated in the nave of St Paul’s, London. flatcaps: apprentices. waistcoaters: prostitutes. bagnio: Turkish bath or brothel. catchpole or tipstaff: tax collector or bailiff. sackpossets: wine mixed with sugar, milk, eggs, and spices. ordinary at a boilingcook’s: fixed price meal at a cheap eatery. tester: sixpence. punk: prostitute. Kerry cows: breed of black cattle. plague: foot-and-mouth disease. bully

beef: preserved beef. There’s as good fish in this tin […]: after proverbial saying, “There’s as good fish in the sea ...”; in the Odyssey, Odysseus’s men eat fish before they slaughter the sacred cattle. Mort aux vaches: French, “Death to the cows,” “Down with the cops!” headborough: petty constable. bearpit and the cockingmain: arenas for bear and cock fighting. hoggets: yearling sheep. wether: castrated ram. actuary: clerk. meadow auctions: auctions of livestock held on farms. Gavin Low’s yard: livestock agent, 47–53 Prussia Street.

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G 14:580

G 14:600

the hoose: lung disease. timber tongue: variation of foot-and-mouth disease. Rinderpest: cattle plague. bull that’s Irish: Irish bull, nonstandard expression with comic or rhetorical power; Maria Edgeworth’s Essay on Irish Bulls (1802). An Irish bull […] A man’s a man for a’ that: includes elements of Swift’s A Tale of a Tub (1704), which lampoons the Roman Catholic church’s use of papal bulls. that same bull […] by farmer Nicholas: Nicholas Breakspear, Pope Adrian

IV (pope 1154–59) issued a papal bull, Laudabiliter (1155), granting the overlordship of Ireland to Henry II of England (king 1154–89). emerald ring: given by Pope Adrian IV to Henry II to symbolize his possession of Ireland. the Lord Harry: here, King Henry II. the four fields of all Ireland: the four provinces of Ireland. point shift: lace shirt. tippet: fur cape. spermaceti oil: used in the coronation of English monarchs. cozening: beguiling or tricking.

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G 14:620

G 14:640

lord Harry: here, Henry VII. Roscommon […] Connemara […] Sligo: west-central county, western province and northwest county. old Nicks: the devil. old whoremaster: Protestant churches identified the Roman Catholic church with the whore of Babylon, Revelations 17:5. trulls: prostitute. pizzle: animal’s penis. lord Harry: here, Henry VIII. left-handed descendant: illegitimate offspring. famous champion bull of the Romans: St Peter. Bos Bovum: Latin, “bull of bulls.” his new name: Henry VIII was titled “Defender of the Faith,” by Pope Leo X in 1521. the bulls’ language: Latin. first personal pronoun:

ego, “I.” he and the bull of Ireland: Henry VIII was proclaimed King of Ireland by act of English Parliament in 1541. gave three times three: three cheers. let the bullgine run: English sea chanty: “We’ll run from night til morning, / O run, let the bulgine run.” Pope Peter’s but […] man for a’ that: combination of a Protestant street rhyme with a line from Burns’s “For a’ that and a’ that” (1795). Our worthy acquaintance […] in the antechamber: evokes the style of Joseph Addison (1672–1719) and Richard Steele’s (1672–1719) essays in the Tatler (1709–11) and the Spectator (1711–12).

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G 14:660

for proclivites read proclivities

G 14:680

buy a colour or a cornetcy in the fencibles: purchase a commission in the army; cornet: officer who carried a color, or flag, for a company of regular troops. Mr Quinnell’s: George Quinnell, printer, 45 Fleet Street. Lambay Island: bird sanctuary three miles off the coast. sir Fopling Popinjay and sir Milksop Quidnunc: characters in Steele’s satire in the Tatler. ’Tis as cheap sitting as standing: Lady Answerall to Colonel Atwit in Swift’s Complete Collection of Genteel

and Ingenious Conversation (1738). dearest pledges: children. bonzes: European term for the Buddhist clergy of Japan. who hide their flambeau under a bushel: after Jesus “Neither do men light a candle and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house,” Matthew 5:14–15. unaccountable muskin: odd fellow. lord Talbot de Malahide: (b.1846) sold Lambay Island in 1888. Omphalos: naval, center; see 7.

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G 14:700

G 14:720

latter prolific rodents: rabbits were forbidden as food in Deuteronomy 14:7–8. Talis ac tanta […] magnopere anteponunt: Latin, of Mulligan’s devising, in a Ciceronian style, “Such and so great is the depravity of this age, Citizens, that the mothers of our families greatly prefer the lascivious titillations of any Libicum eunuch to the heavy testicles and extraordinary erections of Roman centurions.” those loaves and fishes: Jesus fed five thousand people with

five loaves and two fishes, Matthew 14:17. poor lady: poor body (G, correction). ventripotence: Big-bellied. ovablastic gestation in the prostatic utricle: literally, egg-sprouting growth in the cavity of the urethra within the prostate; male pregnancy. Austin Meldon: Dublin physician, fellow and former president of the Royal College of Physicians of Ireland. a wolf in the stomach: after the proverbial expression “a growing boy has a wolf in his belly.”

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G 14:740

G 14:760

’tis a pity she’s a trollop: after John Ford’s (c.1586– 1655) play ’Tis Pity She’s a Whore (1633). larum: call to arms or warning sound. Here the listener who […] of our store of knowledge: includes elements from the style of the Irish-born novelist and cleric Laurence

Sterne (1713–68), especially Sentimental Journey Through France and Italy (1768). polite breading: polite breeding (G, correction). Mais bien sûr […] et mille compliments: French, “But of course [...] and a thousand compliments.”

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G 14:780

G 14:800

Maledicity! he exclaimed in anguish. Would (G, inclusion). marchand de capotes: French, “a cloak merchant,” “condom salesman”; condoms were illegal in 1904 in Ireland. Monsieur Poyntz: Gogarty wrote a poem about Samuel Robert Poynrz, india-rubber warehouse and waterproofer, 20 Clare Street, that included the lines “Gutta-percha coffin maker / Antenatal undertaker.” livre: French, an obsolete coin, featured in Sterne’s Sentimental Journey. Le Fécondateur: French, “the impregnator.” avec

lui: French, “with him.” ventre biche: French, literally “deer’s belly,” slang expression of excitement. sans blague: French, “no joke.” sou: French coin of negligible worth. umbrella: (slang) diaphragm. ark of salvation: Noah’s ark, Genesis 6–8. il y a deux choses: French, “there are two things.” tilbury: open twowheeled carriage. Amid the general vacant […] on with a loving heart: includes elements of the style of Oliver Goldsmith; see 183. Gad’s bud: “God’s body,” an eighteenth-century oath.

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G 14:820

G 14:840

Demme: version of “damn.” Lawksamercy: version of “Lord have mercy.” pot of four: pot of ale at four pence a quart. enceinte: French, “pregnant.” a cloud of witnesses: phrase from a call to moral rectitude in Hebrews 12:1. swore a round hand: swore vehemently. Stap my vitals: a curse, literally, “stop my life.” to honour thy father and thy mother: the fifth commandment, Exodus 20:12. To revert to

Mr Bloom […] of the Supreme Being: parodies the style of eighteenth-century essayists, including: Edmund Burke; Samuel Johnson (1709–1784), essayist, poet, lexicographer; David Hume (1711–76), Scottish sceptical philosopher; Gilbert White (1720–93), naturalist and essayist; Lord Chesterfield (1694–1773), statesman and political essayist; and Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723–92), artist and essayist.

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for scrupuluosly read scrupulously

G 14:860

G 14:880

mots: French, “words. resiled from: recoiled from. a cropeared creature […] feet first into the world: after Shakespeare’s Richard III. gibbosity: hunchbacked. that missing link […] late ingenious Mr Darwin: Charles Darwin (1809–82) hypothesized an evolutionary stage between ape and man in The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex (1871). the middle span of our allotted years: Psalm 90:10 allots

seventy years to man; Bloom is thirty-eight. choler: anger. mows: jests. pretermit: overlook. Accordingly he broke his mind […] feather laugh together: includes elements in the style of Dublin-born dramatist, MP, and political essayist Richard Brinsley Sheridan (1751–1816). Ephesian matron: archetypal widow who mourns intensely but remarries quickly; in Petronius’ (d.66) Satyricon.

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G 14:900

G 14:920

old Glory Allelujerum: moniker for Mr Purefoy, distorting “Glory Hallelujah,” typically exclaimed at American revivalist meetings. dundrearies: long side whiskers, named after English comic actor Edward Askew Sothern’s (1826–81) portrayal of Lord Dundreary in Tom Taylor’s Our American Cousin (1858). ’Slife: version of “God’s life.” the man in the gap: Hiberno-English, person who courageously and successfully defends a cause (P. W. Joyce). linkboy: light-bearer. (virtuous): here, sexually potent. birds of a feather laugh together: after the nursery rhyme. But with what fitness […] acid and

inoperative: critics have identified elements in the style of the eighteenth-century satirist Junius. this alien, whom the concession of a gracious prince: Jews were expelled from the British Isles in 1290 and readmitted under Cromwell and Charles II but were granted civil rights only gradually over the next hundred years. granados: grenades. tenant at will: with no lease. the security of his four per cents: the return on Bloom’s investments is dependent on British stability. a very pelican in his piety: heraldic image of the pelican with its beak on its breast; symbol of Christ.

554 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Oxen of the Sun” · 390

G 14:940

G 14:960

Hagar: Abraham and Sarah’s servant, who gives birth to Abraham’s first son, Ishmael, but is cast out when Sarah gives birth to Isaac, Genesis 16. balm of Gilead: precious healing balm from trees in Gilead, Jeremiah 8:22. apothegms: concise truths. quondam: former. The news was imparted […] what God has joined: includes elements in the style of the English sceptical philosopher and historian Edward Gibbon (1737–94). the Sublime Porte: from French, “the sublime gate,” the central office of the Ottoman Empire in Constantinople under Sultan Mohammed II (1430–81). abigail: lady’s maid, after character in Beaumont and

Fletcher’s The Scornful Lady (1616). a strife of tongues: Psalms 31:20. uterine brothers: half-brothers. the Childs murder: for which Thomas Childs’s brother Samuel was acquitted; see 96. Primogeniture: principle that the eldest son is the sole heir. king’s bounty touching twins and triplets: royal gift to mothers of triplets, established 1910. acardiac foetus in foetu: baby born without a heart, inside the body of another baby. aprosopia: without a face. agnatia: agnathia, born without a jaw. chinless Chinamen: song from The Geisha.

391 · “Oxen of the Sun”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 555

for prolungation read prolongation

for perpetration read perpetuation

G 14:980

G 14:1000

twilight sleep: sedated birth; see 154. gravidancy: pregnancy. Sturtzgeburt: German, “sudden birth,” a medical term. multigeminal: multiseminal (G, correction). the catamenic period: menstruation. Aristotle […] masterpiece: see 226. the forbidding to a gravid […] seat of castigation: variations on recommendations in Aristotle’s Masterpiece. doghaired: dubious defect illustrated in Aristotle’s Masterpiece. plasmic memory: plasm is the “immortal portion of our bodies” in Helena Petrovna Blavatsky’s Theosophical text The Secret Doctrine (1895). the

metaphysical traditions of the land he stood for: Scottish philosophers argued for inborn knowledge, including Thomas Reid (1710–96), James Beattie (1735–1803), Dugald Stewart (1753–1828), Sir William Hamilton (1788–1856), James McCosh (1811–94). avouchment: assertion. Minotaur which […] pages of his Metamorphoses: Ovid’s tale of the bull, Pasiphae, Minos, and Dedalus; see 199. one Siamese twin predeceasing the other: a medical impossibility discussed in Aristotle’s Masterpiece.

556 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Oxen of the Sun” · 392

G 14:1020

G 14:1040

the ecclesiastical ordinance […] what God has joined: Jesus’s ruling on marriage, Matthew 19:4–6. But Malachias’ tale began […] Murderer’s ground: suggests the style of Horace Walpole’s (1717–97) novel The Castle of Otranto (1764), Irish writer Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu’s (1814–73), The House by the Churchyard (1863) and Synge’s plays. a portfolio full of Celtic literature: Haines left the National Library to buy Douglas Hyde’s Love Songs of Connacht; see 178. it seems, history is to blame: see 20. This is

the appearance is on me: direct translation of the Irish “Seo é an chuma atá orm.” Tare and ages: variant of “Tare and ouns,” the tears and wounds of Christ. soulth: Anglicized Irish, from samhail, “phantom or specter.” bullawurrus: “spectral bull, with fire blazing from eyes and nose and mouth” (P. W. Joyce). the Erse language: Scottish Gaelic, sometimes Irish Gaelic. The black panther!: see 4. The vendetta of Mannanaun!: in A. E.’s verse play Deirdre, the druid Cathvah chants against the Red Branch Knights. The sage: John

Eglinton. Lex talionis: law of retaliation; see 134. The sentimentalist […] done: after George Meredith’s novel The Ordeal of Richard Feverel (1859); see 191. the third brother: protagonist of fairy tales according to Best; see 202. For this relief much thanks: Hamlet (i.i.8–9); see 355. What is the age […] Leopold was for Rudolph: in the style of the English essayist, and author of The Adventures of Ulysses (1808), Charles Lamb (1775–1834).

393 · “Oxen of the Sun”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 557

G 14:1060

G 14:1080

substance in the funds. A score of years are blown away. He is young Leopold (G, inclusion). Clanbrassil street: Bloom’s parents lived at 52 Clanbrassil Street. the high school: Bloom attended Erasmus Smith High School; see 149. hard hat: stiff felt hat, bowler. baisemoins: baisemains, French, “kiss on the hands,” compliments, respects. Jacob’s pipe: style of smoking pipe with a bust of a bearded man on the bowl. The wise father knows his own child: son to blind father in Merchant of Venice (ii.

ii.75–76); see 85. the bonded stores: W. and A. Gilbey, Ltd, distillers, 2 Upper Hatch Street. the new royal university: Royal University of Ireland on Earlsfort Terrace. Bridie Kelly: basis in 1904 Dublin unknown. and in an instant (fiat!) light shall flood the world: God’s creation of the world, Genesis 1:1–3; fiat: Latin, “let it be done.” The voices blend and fuse […] the forehead of Taurus: includes elements in the style of the English romantic Thomas De Quincey (1785– 1859), particularly The English Mail Coach (1849).

558 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Oxen of the Sun” · 394

G 14:1100

G 14:1120

screechowls: translation of Lilith, Hebrew, Isaiah 34. sandblind upupa: hoopoe, detested bird in Leviticus 11:13–19. ghosts of beasts: evokes the slaughtered cattle of Helios that haunt Odysseus and his crew. lacinating: piercing. bulls of Bashan and of Babylon: Psalms 22:12–13; the destruction of Babylon is anticipated in Revelations 18. Lacus Mortis: Latin, “the lake of the dead.” zodiacal host: animals of the zodiac. And the equine […] house of Virgo: Pegasus was rising and Virgo was sinking over Dublin on June 16, 1904 at 11 p.m. queen among the Pleiades: Venus will rise at 3 a.m., one of the Seven Sisters and associated

here with the Virgin Mary, Martha of “M’appari,” and Milly Bloom. in sandals of bright gold: see Milly, 59. Alpha, a ruby […] forehead of Taurus: the red-giant star Alpha Tauri. Francis was […] second constellation: style of Walter Savage Landor (1775– 1864), especially Imaginary Conversations (1824–53). Glaucon: Socrates’s interlocutor in Plato’s Republic. Alcibiades: (c.450–404 bce), politician and friend of Socrates; features with Pisistratus (c.605–527 bce), ruler of Athens in Landor’s Imaginary Conversations. lord and giver of their life: Odysseus enlivens the shades with a tribute of bullocks’ blood. gadding: wandering.

395 · “Oxen of the Sun”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 559

G 14:1140

his recent loss: Stephen’s mother was buried June 26, 1903. whim of the rider’s name: coincidentally, Madden. The flag fell and […] reached, outstripped her: Lenehan’s account of the Gold Cup Race differs from the Evening Telegraph of June 16, 1904, in which Sceptre is a colt (not a mare) and Throwaway leads from the beginning, apart from a short section near home. All was lost now:

song; see 261. W. Lane: highly successful jockey in 1904. Phyllis […] Lalage […] Glycera […] Chloe: traditional names for classical and pastoral beauties. Corinth fruit: currants. Periplepomenos: Periplipomenes (G, correction); Greek neologism, “itinerant fruit merchant.” a slight disorder in her dress: after the 1648 poem “Delight in Disorder” by Robert Herrick (1591–1674).

560 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Oxen of the Sun” · 396

G 14:1160

G 14:1180

Bass’s mare […] this draught of his: the owner of Sceptre, William Arthur Hamar Bass (b.1879), was the nephew of Michael Arthur Bass, Baron Burton (1837–1909), the director of the brewery Messrs. Bass & Co., Ltd; see 147. Any object intensely regarded […] incorruptible eon of the gods: parody of Theosophical writings, especially of A. E.’s. Theosophus: Stephen as a personification of Theosophy. whom in a previous existence […]:

training in a previous life was a requirement for a Theosophist master. karmic law: see 174. The lords of the moon […] constellation: parodic Theosophicalese. However, as a matter of fact […] ages yet to come: includes elements in the style of the English essayist and historian Thomas Babington Macaulay (1800–59). some description of a doldrums: Odysseus and his men await a favorable wind on Trinacria, the island of the Sun-god.

397 · “Oxen of the Sun”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 561

G 14:1200

G 14:1220

the Mull of Galloway: headland in Scotland’s southernmost peninsula. Malachi Roland St John Mulligan: the name Oliver replaces Roland here after the expression “A Roland for an Oliver,” inspired by Roland and Oliver in Le chanson de Roland. Lafayette: James Lafayette, photographer, 30 Westmoreland Street. It had better be stated […] in which it was delivered: includes elements in the style of English naturalist and comparative anatomist Thomas Henry Huxley (1825–95). (Div. Scep.): Divinitatis Scepticus, Latin, “Doubter of Divinity.” (Pubb. Canv.): Public Canvasser (for advertisements). view of Empedocles […] the birth of males: view actually held by

Anaxagoras (c.500–c.428 bce), Empedocles’ (c.494–430 bce) teacher. spermatozoa or nemasperms: Aristotle’s concept that the sperm, or parts of it, contains the male principle which competes with the female egg to determine the sex of the foetus. Culpepper […] Valenti: specialists in medical practice, fertilization, physical anthropology, midwifery, and embryology, Nicholas Culpeper (1616–54), Lazzaro Spallanzani (1729–99), Johann Friedrich Blumenbach (1752–1840), William Thompson Lusk (1838–97), Oscar Hertwig (1849–1922) or Richard Hertwig (1850–1937), Christian Gerhard Leopold (1846–1911), Giulio Valenti (1860–1933).

562 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Oxen of the Sun” · 398

G 14:1240

for suspened read suspended

G 14:1260

nisus fannativus: Latin, “formative tendency,” i.e. Aristotle’s active, male principle. succubitus felix: Latin, “the fertile (or fortunate) one who lies under,” from Aristotle. (Hyg. et Eug. Doc.): Hygieinae et Eugenicae Doctor, Latin, “Doctor of Hygienics and Eugenics.”

suspened carcases: suspended carcases (G, correction). Kalipedia: Greek, “the study of beauty.” (Disc. Bacc.): either Disciplinae Baccalaureus: Latin, “Bachelor of Discipline,” or Disciple of Bacchus (S). (Bacc. Arith.): Bachelor of Arithmetic.

399 · “Oxen of the Sun”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 563

G 14:1280

for femoules read females

G 14:1300

in the poet’s words, give us pause: “For in that sleep of death what dreams may come / When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, / Must give us pause,” Hamlet, iii.i.66–68. the survival of the fittest: concept and phrase of Herbert Spencer (1820–1903). deglute: chew. pluterperfect imperturbability: see Mr. Deasy’s letter, 33. staggering bob: three-day-old calf; see 163. (Lic. in Midw., F.K.Q.C.P.l.): Licensed

in Midwifery, Former Knight of the Queen’s College of Physicians in Ireland. Meanwhile the skill and […] good and faithful servant!: includes elements in the style of Charles Dickens, especially chapter 53 of David Copperfield (1849–50). acouchement: French, “childbirth.” She had fought the good fight: “Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life,” 1 Timothy 6:12.

564 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Oxen of the Sun” · 400

G 14:1320

G 14:1340

Universal Husband: God, for nuns. Doady: David Copperfield’s first wife calls him Doady. Ulster bank, College Green branch: 32–33 College Green. that faroff time of the roses: from James Clarence Mangan’s lament “The Time of the Roses.” With the old shake of her pretty head: Dora Copperfield’s gesture, repeated on her deathbed. our famous hero of […] Waterford and Candahar: Sir Frederick Sleigh Roberts, Lord of Kandahar, Pretoria, and Waterford (1832–1914); successful commander during the Boer War. Treasury Remembrancer’s office, Dublin Castle: collected debts owed to the King’s Treasury

in Ireland; Thom’s does not list Purefoy as working there. father Cronion: chronos, Greek, “time”; Cronion, Greek, “son of Cronos.” dout: dialect, extinguish. Well done, thou good and faithful servant!: praise for the servant’s productive use of money, or “talents,” Matthew 25:23. There are sins or […] silent, remote, reproachful: includes elements in the style of John Henry Cardinal Newman (1801–90). timbrel and harp: from Newman’s sermon “Purity and Love.” when he is now filled with wine: from Newman’s “Neglect of Divine Calls and Warnings.”

401 · “Oxen of the Sun”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 565

G 14:1360

G 14:1380

The stranger still regarded […] in her glad look: critics have identified elements in the style of the English aesthetician and essayist Walter Pater (1839–94). Roundtown: where Bloom met Molly; see 102. Floey, Atty, Tiny: Mat Dillon’s daughters. Our Lady of the Cherries: mode of depicting the Virgin Mary; cherries are associated with paradise. (alles vergängliche): German, “All that is transitory”; the first line of the final chorus of Goethe’s Faust, Part II (1832). Mark this father […] the utterance of the Word:

includes elements in the style of the English art critic and reformer John Ruskin (1819–1900). the vigilant watch of shepherds […] of Juda long ago: the birth of Jesus, Luke 2:1–20. the Word: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God,” John 1:1. Burke’s!: Burke’s public house, 17 Holles Street. Outflings my lord […] nunc est bibendum!: includes elements in the style of Thomas Carlyle (1795–1881). tag and bobtail: motley group of ordinary people.

566 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Oxen of the Sun” · 402

G 14:1400

G 14:1420

dedale: maze. placentation: formation of the placenta in the uterus; here, possibly, the expulsion of the placenta after birth. Doctor Diet and Doctor Quiet: along with Doctor Merryman, the “best doctors in the world” in Swift’s Polite Conversation (1738). motherwit: innate sense. coelum: Latin, “sky.” cessile: yielding. chaffering: chattering. farraginous: miscellaneous. bandog: tethered dog. Malthusiasts: believers in the theory of English economist and statistician Thomas Robert Malthus (1766–1834), which held that populations unrestricted by war, famine, or disease would become unsustainable. bemoiled: dirtied. homer:

Hebrew measure of volume. thy fleece is drenched: Gideon’s sign that God would save Israel through him, Judges 6:36–37. Darby Dullman there with his Joan: in Henry Sampson Woodfall’s (1739–1805) ballad “The Happy Old Couple; or, The Joys of Love Never Forgot.” canting jay: singing bird. Derbyshire neck: goiter. threnes: dirges, especially of Jeremiah. trentals: thirty requiem masses, or an elegy. jeremies: Jeremiads, pitiful tales. defunctive music: funereal music; phrase from Shakespeare’s “The Phoenix and the Turtle.” Thou sawest thy America: term for the beloved in John Donne’s (1573–1631) Elegie 19, “Going to Bed.”

403 · “Oxen of the Sun”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 567

G 14:1440

G 14:1460

Deine Kuh […] des Euters: German, “You are milking your cow, Tribulation. Now you are drinking the sweet milk of her udder.” milk of human kin: Macbeth, i.v.18. Canaan’s land: the promised land. bonnyclabber: Hiberno-English, thick, sour milk. Per deam Partulam et Pertundam: Latin, “By the goddesses of childbirth and the loss of virginity.” nunc est bibendum: Latin, “now let us drink,” Horace’s Ode 37. (Dialect, slang, and idiomatic language dominate the following pages.) buster: drinking bout. armstrong: with arms linked. Where you slep las nigh: drinks could be served at later hours to travelers. Timothy of the battered

naggin: eccentric innkeeper Sir Timothy O’Brien. Like ole Billyo: like the devil. Where the Henry Nevil’s: where the devil’s. old clo: old clothes. ribbon counter: purveyor of alcohol. the drunken minister: Stephen, dressed in black and wearing a soft hat. Benedicat […] Pater et Filius: Latin, “May almighty God, the Father and the Son bless you.” make: halfpenny. Denzille lane boys: street urchins. Isaacs: Jews. En avant, mes enfants!: French, “Forward, my children!” parasang: Persian unit of length. Slattery’s mounted foot: comic song by Percy French. apostates’ creed: after Apostles’ Creed. Ma mère m’a mariée: bawdy

French song by Raphael May. Retamplan Digidi Boum Boum: nonsense words. Druiddrum press: see 13. Most beautiful […] my time: see 208. Tramp, tramp, tramp […] parching: American Civil War marching song by George F. Root. Beer, beef […] and bishops: “British Beatitudes,” after Matthew 5:3–11. Whether on the […] for Irelandear: from “God Save Ireland”; see 134. boosebox: bar. Who’s astanding: who’s paying. Me nantee saltee: Parlyaree, “I haven’t a penny.” red: red cent, penny. number ones: Numberone Bass ale.

568 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Oxen of the Sun” · 404

G 14:1480

G 14:1500

Stopped short […] when the old: from 1875 song “My Grandfather’s Clock,” by Henry C. Work. Enemy: time. Avuncular: pawnbroker. Buckled: married. Full of a dure: she would fill up a door. dishybilly: déshabillé; see 226. lean kine: the Pharaoh dreams of seven lean cows, symbolizing seven years of famine, Genesis 41. Pull down the blind, love: song by Charles McCarthy. Two Ardilauns: (slang) two pints of Guinness. mincepies […] take me to rests […] anker of rum: (rhyming slang) eyes, breasts, bum. starving: starry. allbeplastered: alabaster. Spud: potato. I vear thee

beest a gert vool: I fear you are a great fool. Lapland: the company of women. corporosity sagaciating: body thriving. going on the straw: giving birth. Ours the white death and the ruddy birth: see 239. orchidised: castrated. polycimical: infested with lice. nappy: ale. Jock braw Hielentman’s your barleybree: Scotsman brave Highlandman’s, your barley brew. Leg before wicket: banned move in cricket. Every cove to his gentry mort: thieves’ cant, “every fellow to his woman.” Venus Pandemos: Ancient Greek, Venus “of all the people.” axing at: asking after. Hauding

Sara by the wame: Holding Sarah by the waist, from Burns’s “Ken ye ought o’ Captain Grose?” If she who seduced me had left but the name: Thomas Moore’s song “When He Who Adores Thee.” Machree, Macruiskeen: Irish, “my love, my little jug”; chorus of “The Cruiskeen Lawn.” And a pull alltogether: after the “Eton Boating Song.” shiners: coins. Underconstumble: understand. chink: coins. oof: money. Two bar and a wing: two shillings and a penny. bilks: swindlers or cheats. We are nae […] the fou: from Burns’s “Willie Brew’d a Peck of Maut.”

405 · “Oxen of the Sun”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 569

G 14:1520

G 14:1540

teetee: teetotal. Bowsing: drinking. nowt but claretwine: after the song, “The Rakes of Mallow.” Garn: go on. The colleen bawn: see 298. Dutch oven: mouth. The ruffin cly the nab of: thieves’ cant, “the devil take the head of”; from “The Beggar’s Curse.” jady coppaleen: tricky horse. joey: fourpenny piece. grahamise: open letters illicitly. Guinea to a goosegog: long odds. Tell a cram: telegram. chokeechokee: prison. harman beck: thieves’ cant, “constable.” O lust, our refuge […]: after the Mass, “O God, our refuge ...” Horryvar, mong vioo:

distorted French, Au revoir, mon vieux, “Goodbye, old fellow.” Jannock: honest. Of John Thomas, her spouse: after the Mass, “Of St Thomas”; John Thomas (slang), penis. holy friar: liar. sheeny: derogatory term for Jew. nachez: Yiddish, “joy, gratification.” misha mishinnah: a bad end. yerd: penis. bluggy: bloody. pree: sample. Boniface: innkeeper. Nos omnes […] capiat posteriora nostra: Latin, “We will all drink green poison [absinthe], and the devil take our backsides.” Rome: thieves’ cant, “excellent.” Bonsoir la compagnie: French, “Goodnight all.” And snares of the poxfiend:

after the Mass, “Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil.” Namby Amby: namby-pamby. Skunked: betrayed. Aweel, ye maun e’en gang yer gates: Ah well, you must even go your way quickly. Kind Kristyann: character in Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. sprung: drunk. Tarnally: eternally. longbreak: summer vacation. Cot’s plood: God’s blood. Thrust syphilis down to […] wander through the world: after the prayer, “thrust Satan down to hell and with him those other wicked spirits who wander through the world.” A la vôtre: French, “To your (health)!”

570 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Oxen of the Sun” · 406

G 14:1560

G 14:1580

whatten tunket’s: what in the hell. Dusty Rhodes: American comic-strip tramp. Jubilee mutton: following Queen Victoria’s gift of small amounts of mutton to poor Dubliners in 1897, they greeted her with the chant “Here she is! What has she got? Jubilee mutton.” Richmond: Asylum; see 8. cit: citizen. Man all tattered […] maiden all forlorn: after “The House That Jack Built.” Slung her hook: ran away, died. Nix for the hornies: Watch out for the cops. passed in his checks: died. Tiens, tiens: French, “Well, well.” O get, rev on a gradient one in nine: “Oh, get out,

it’s impossible for a racing car to accelerate up an 11 percent gradient” (Gifford). Jenatzy licks him: Belgian driver, favorite in the 1904 Gordon Bennett Cup Race. Jappies? High angle fire: Japanese long-range shelling in the Russo-Japanese War. inyah: Anglicized Irish, “Is that so?” war specials: newspaper dispatches on the Russo-Japanese War. The Leith police dismisseth us: tongue-twisting nursery rhyme used to test sobriety, according to Joyce. Mona, my thrue love: from the song “Mona, My Own Love” by Weatherly and Adams. obstropolos: distortion of obstreperous. We two,

she said, will seek the kips where shady Mary is: after Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s (1828–82) “The Blessed Damozel” (1850), “‘We two,’ she said, ‘will seek the groves / Where the lady Mary is.’” Laetabuntur in cubilibus suis: Latin, “They will rejoice in their beds,” Psalm 149:5. Ut implerentur scripturae: Latin, “So that the scriptures might be fulfilled,” Matthew 26:56. Come on, you winefizzling […] Just you try it on: in the style of an American evangelist. Alexander J. Christ Dowie, that’s my name, that’s yanked (G, inclusion).

407 · “Oxen of the Sun”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 571

15 · “CIRCE” Ronan Crowley

Why does Virag’s head go quack? Midway through “Circe,” Leopold Bloom’s grandfather unscrews his own head and holds it under his arm like the headless horseman of myth and fairy tale. Unperturbed, the disembodied head emits a single, puzzling “Quack!” (491; 15:2638). Even the entrance of “Granpapachi” strains credulity: Lipoti Virag – or is it Virag Lipoti? – both names appear in quick succession – “chutes” down through the chimney flue, a Hungarian Jew turned Father Christmas (481; 15:2304, 2318). What are we to make of such material? Do we surrender to the inundation of detail and embrace the madcap pile-up that is the hallmark of “Circe”? Or ­ skip-read cursoriwise, holding out for the steadier ground of “Eumaeus”? One reader who refused to throw up his hands and go quietly was E. E. Cummings. Confronted with Virag, he complained of “a muchtoomuchness of Mr. Bloom’s unc” [sic] in the episode. Marion Morehouse, his partner, agreed. “The trouble with Joyce,” she remarked, “was that he didn’t have Ezra to cut him in two.”1 The reference is to Ezra Pound’s blue-penciling overhaul of the poem that would become T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land. In gratitude for editorial services rendered, Eliot dedicated the work to Pound as il miglior fabbro, the better craftsman.2 As the 1  E. E. Cummings to Ezra Pound, June 13, 1947, in Pound/Cummings: The Correspondence of Ezra Pound and E. E. Cummings, ed. Barry Ahearn (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996), 218. 2  Eliot inscribed the dedication on a presentation copy of The Waste Land in 1923. It has been part of

foreign editor of the Little Review, the literary magazine in which sections of Ulysses first appeared, Pound had had cause to censor Joyce’s free use of profanity and indecency, but “Circe” was the first episode to be completed after the magazine’s editors were prosecuted for obscenity and their serialization of the novel came to an abrupt halt. Critics have suggested that it was this freedom from deadline and the constraints of the magazine format that precipitated the episode’s disproportionate ballooning. The equal of the first seven episodes for page count, “Circe” is the longest and among the most challenging of Ulysses’ eighteen episodes. Set in Dublin’s red-light district around midnight, it makes a formal break with the rest of the novel by presenting the experiences of Stephen and Bloom in the form of a play or play-script whose stage reprises characters, scenes, and motifs drawn from the earlier episodes. This chapter will orient the reader within the topsy-turvy world of Joyce’s “Circe” in order to address a persistent stumbling block for many first timers: the episode’s problematic and multivalent relationship to the real. In a novel that purports to represent its world so faithfully as to record even character interiority by means of interior monologue, the singing bar of soap or flying anthropomorphized kisses that we encounter in “Circe” (to single out only two more of its fantastical details) the published poem since 1925. See T. S. Eliot, The Annotated Waste Land with Eliot’s Contemporary Prose, ed. Lawrence S. Rainey (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005), 57, 76.

“Circe” · 573

25 A group of people at the Great Exhibition, Herbert Park (1907), including “highly respectable ladies”

­undercut Ulysses’ broader claim on the mimetic representation of objective reality. What, then, really happens in Dublin’s red-light district at the witching hour of night? As with every episode, the setting of “Circe” bears scrutiny. Nominally, at least, proceedings are confined to the maze of back alleys, side streets, and brothels that make up the single square mile known in historical Dublin parlance as “Monto” after the tenement neighborhood’s central thoroughfare, Montgomery Street. Municipal policies of containment unique in the United Kingdom at the turn of the twentieth century meant that sex work in the Irish capital was concentrated within this ramshackle area, situated a few hundred yards northeast of Dublin’s main street, Sackville Street. Reputedly one of Europe’s largest red-light districts, Monto even warranted a mention in the 1902 Encyclopaedia Britannica.3 Writing “Circe” in 3  See “Prostitution,” Encyclopaedia Britannica, 10th ed., vol. xxxii (London and Edinburgh: A. and C. Black, 1902), 30, n. 1.

Paris in 1920, Joyce wove into the episode references to a culture of sex work that would not survive Irish independence, from the upscale “flash houses” (420; 15:370) to characters named for or else based on the neighborhood’s notorious madams. For all its hallucinatory pyrotechnics, the episode has a relatively straightforward plot. As Bloom recalls in “Eumaeus,” in the interim between “Oxen of the Sun” and the ­beginning of “Circe,” an “unpleasant scene” unfolds at Westland Row railway terminus, and Mulligan and Haines “give Stephen the slip in the confusion” (575–76; 16:263–67). The two towermates exit the novel on the southbound train for Sandycove while Stephen, Lynch, and Bloom travel north to Amiens Street station on the edge of the red-light district. The episode divides into six broad sections: 1. Streetwalking nighttown: Bloom, in pursuit of Stephen and Lynch, navigates the streets of Monto, dodging sex workers and the red-light district’s nameless denizens. Figures from both

574 · Ronan Crowley

26 Faithful Place, off Lower Tyrone Street in Dublin’s “Monto”

Bloom’s and the book’s pasts reappear in cameo spots, and inanimate objects come to life and have their say. A chance run-in with two nightwatchmen culminates in an impromptu trial scene, complete with court officers, chief magistrate, jurors, a defense attorney, and witnesses for the prosecution, ­including several “highly respectable Dublin ladies” (442; 15:1078). With no hint of a verdict delivered, Bloom is sentenced to death. None the worse for wear, however, he resumes his course through the red-light district and arrives at Bella Cohen’s brothel. He stops to listen: someone is playing the piano inside (408–49; 15:1–1278). 2. Under entrancement: Zoe Higgins, an English sex worker who shares the maiden name of Bloom’s mother, entices him into the brothel. Their threshold encounter includes one of the episode’s longest, unbroken hallucinatory sequences, some nineteen pages or over six hundred lines that play on Bloom’s peoplepleaser tendencies represented as political ascent and fall. The entire sequence takes place in the telescoped interval between two lines of

Zoe’s conversation with Bloom, during which he becomes, by turns, electioneering politician, city alderman, Lord Mayor of Dublin, and Christ figure. The fantasy of attaining political office leapfrogs into absolute monarchy when mayoral inauguration segues into a coronation scene. Leopold the First’s reign is brief: an ambitious program of social development is ­undermined by violent reprisals against his political enemies, and religious sectarianism ends his rule. After a second trial, he is set on fire. A bantering Zoe takes Bloom by the hand and leads him inside (449–72; 15:1279–2030). 3. Overtures in the music room: Bloom, awkward and self-conscious, is coaxed into the brothel hallway. In the music room Stephen, revealed as the piano-player, and Lynch c­onsort with two sex workers, Kitty Ricketts and Florry Talbot. The worse for drink, Stephen holds forth on music theory, largely ­indifferent to his audience in a manner reminiscent of the afternoon’s Shakespeare ­lecture. Chance remarks and mishearings usher forth a gallery of improbable visitants from a

“Circe” · 575

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15 Amiens Street Station to Monto, “Nighttown”

576 · Ronan Crowley

hobgoblin to a two-headed octopus to Bloom’s deceased grandfather. The behavior of this familial specter is all too earthy, however, as he casts a critical eye over the sex workers in a misogynistic performance combining the roles of pimp and carnival barker. A john departs, heralding the arrival of the brothel madam (472– 94; 15:2031–741). 4. Subjugating Leo: The episode’s longest hallucinatory sequence, the first encounter between Bella and Bloom doubles down on the format of “Circe” section two: some twentytwo pages (over seven hundred lines) unfold in the heartbeat interval between the brothelkeeper’s gaze lighting on Bloom and her figure standing before him. Unlike the ensemble cast of the earlier sequence, this climactic abasement scene plays largely as a two-hander between Bloom and successive elements of Bella: her fan, “hoof,” and finally the regendered Bello. The animalization motif comes to a head with Bloom’s transformation into a veritable farmyard of different animals as the marriage market collides with livestock inspection on the bordello auction block. Bello, who possesses an encyclopedic knowledge of all of Bloom’s desires and improprieties, gleefully catalogs his every instance of wrongdoing or misconduct. After a confrontation with the Photo Bits nymph who overlooks the Eccles Street marriage bed and a snapped trouser-button, Bloom begins to master himself (494–517; 15:2742–3478). 5. After the haze: The penultimate section of the episode opens with Bloom’s verbal abuse of Bella in a jolting shift out of character. His misogyny turned self-assertion, Bloom recovers a potato keepsake that Zoe had earlier coaxed out of him. All business, Bella looks for payment and Stephen settles up with the sex workers, overpaying until Bloom intervenes. Briefly, it appears as though the hallucinatory flights have abated in favor of brothel knockabout and banter, but character intrusion recommences as quickly as it had subsided, with cameo look-ins from both the earlier episodes and A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. In extended hallucinatory sequences, both Bloom and Stephen are made to confront material that each has suppressed all day: for Bloom, the extramarital sex

act between Molly and Boylan; for Stephen, the death of his mother. Unable to handle the visitation, Stephen damages the music-room lampshade with his ash-plant before fleeing the scene. Bloom appeases Bella and sets off in pursuit (517–44; 15:3479–4313). 6. Shouts in the street: “Circe’s” replay of Ulysses catches up with itself with the final section of the episode mirroring and reworking its first. As before, Bloom trails Stephen through Monto; as before, matters come to a head with the intervention of the night watch. Street smarts not being his forte, Stephen is physically assaulted after an altercation with two British Army soldiers. For all the brevity of this summary, the sequence occupies about two thirds the length of the entire “Nestor” episode with the back-and-forth between Stephen, Bloom, and the soldiers interrupted by a stream of character cameos. Stephen and Bloom avoid arrest through the intervention of Corny Kelleher, a known or suspected police informant, and the episode closes with a final revenant: Bloom’s son Rudy, who died an eleven-day newborn, reappears as an Eton schoolboy, “a fairy boy of eleven” (565; 15:4957). Wonder-struck, Bloom calls to his son (544–65; 15:4314–967). While much is omitted in this overview of comings and goings, entrances and exits – from Bloom’s costume quick-change to the profusion of nonhuman animals that stalk through the red-light district – one aspect of the episode that stands out is how little it contributes to the converging stories of Stephen and Bloom. A climactic meeting between the two is deferred and not for the last time. Instead there are long stretches of “Circe” where Stephen is barely present or simply does not feature. Allotted only about half a dozen speaking lines in section one, he is absent entirely from the second and fourth sections of the episode, whether offstage or unrepresented. Indeed, for one long stretch of the music-room sequence, he is present but does not secure a single mention for almost twenty-seven pages or around nine hundred lines. And while Bloom intervenes on Stephen’s behalf with both Bella and the soldiers, direct interaction between the two main characters is minimal. Stephen, when not

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stocious, is unconscious. “What am I following him for?” the adman asks himself early on in the episode (429; 15:639–40). If not in “Circe,” when will meaningful communion take place between Stephen and Bloom? The underrepresentation of Stephen in “Circe” chimes with the episode’s Homeric template, as Telemachus is absent from the Circe adventure. In Book 10 of the Odyssey, Odysseus and his crew escape the cannibalistic Lestrygonians only to arrive at the island of Aeaea, ruled over by the sorceress-goddess Circe. She transforms Odysseus’s comrades into pigs but, aided by Hermes and a magical herb called moly, he remains unaffected by her magic. Odysseus draws his sword and makes to attack Circe – following Hermes’ instructions – and she, recognizing the Ithacan king, restores his men to human form and takes him as her lover. Odysseus stays on Aeaea for an entire year before departing for the underworld realm of Hades. As usual, Joyce deviates from the strict ordering of the Homeric adventures, but points of contact between the episode and the Odyssey are clear: Bella as Circe; Bloom’s abuse of Bella as Odysseus’s feigned assault; the potato curative as moly – even if, unlike his mythic counterpart, Bloom surrenders the protective plant. Frank Budgen, the English painter and socialist activist who first met Joyce in Zurich in 1918, suggested that, of all the episodes of Ulysses, “Circe” presented Joyce with the greatest difficulties in terms of the Homeric correspondences.4 This may be because correspondence functions in a fundamentally different manner in this episode from the rest of the novel. For “Circe” is not only the only episode of Ulysses to namecheck the mythological figure on which it is modeled (as befits its vertiginous self-referentiality) but also has no need of teasing parallelism in relation to the Odyssey. Whereas “Cyclops” translates the burning stake with which Odysseus blinds Polyphemus into Bloom’s “knockmedown cigar” (293; 12:502), in “Circe” the adman “really” transforms into a pig, however qualified that sense of reality must be. Moreover, the episode’s central character parallel, its reim4  Frank Budgen, James Joyce and the Making of “Ulysses” (New York: H. Smith and R. Haas, 1934), 228.

agining of Circe as a brothel madam, has a storied pedigree long preceding Joyce. Two ­thousand years before Ulysses, Horace in the Epistles likens the enchantress to a domina meretrix or “whore mistress” (Epistles 1:2.24–26).5 We do a disservice to both Joyce and the postHomeric classical tradition if we imagine that Ulysses was the first irreverent rewrite of overserious subject matter. The millennia-long reception and canonization of the Odyssey, as integral to the novel as the epic poem, offered a range of responses from the bawdy to the reverential on which Joyce could draw. In “Scylla and Charybdis,” Stephen wonders “what name Achilles bore when he lived among women” (186; 9:350–51), a direct reference to Statius’s first-century epic poem the Achilleid. “Circe” undermines or reverses the Homeric exemplar in ways familiar from the other episodes and also features a rich assortment of Homeric B-sides for the attentive reader. For example, the wand with which Circe strikes Odysseus’s comrades to transform them into pigs separates in “Circe” into object and usage, with its thingness realized in the “wand” with which Lynch keeps time (473; 15:2049) and its metamorphic function imparted to Bella’s horn fan. Again, it is not only parallels with the Odyssey that “Circe” establishes but also direct equivalences or recurrences: Lynch’s wand reclaims its Circean capacity for animal transformation when Kitty’s spooling boa becomes a “curled catterpillar” (474; 15:2083–84), a visual metaphor made tantalizingly actual. But does Lynch really sport the sorceress’s wand? In keeping with the nighttown phantasmagoria, a trick of the light downgrades this Homeric recapitulation to mere correspondence when “[t]he wand in Lynch’s hand flashes: a brass poker” (474; 15:2071). Transformation, general all over the episode, encompasses even the principle of Homeric parallelism as the fire poker is first introduced as its mythic counterpart, only to be subsequently decoded in stage direction. By far the most prevalent aspect of the episode’s reworking of Homer, however, is its rampant animalization. Representation of 5  See Catherine Keane, “Lessons in Reading: Horace on Homer at Epistles 1.2.1–31,” Classical World 104:4 (Summer 2011), 427–50, at 439–40.

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the human in terms of the nonhuman animal, a recurring motif in Ulysses, begins with Buck Mulligan’s “equine” face on the novel’s ­opening page and ranges from the snap portrait of snail-like Sargent in “Nestor” to the stand-ins for the Lestrygonians, the “dirty eaters” of the Burton Hotel, who are brutalized by Bloom and a complicit narrator: “See the animals feed” (3, 161–62; 1:15, 8:696, 651–52). Human–nonhuman animal figuration is literalized in “Circe” to grotesque effect, but Homeric human–­porcine hybrids, in particular, proliferate. Typically coded as female, these include the subtle, such as the “pigmy woman” at the episode’s opening and the “stye” on Florry’s eyelid, and the explicit, such as Bloom’s elaborate transformation in section four or the graphic condensation of Bella’s “sowcunt” (409, 474, 517; 15:25, 2076, 3489). Piggish animalization is a function of language play. The “sowcunt,” for example, which ranks among Joyce’s crassest coinages, derives from reading he undertook in Havelock Ellis’s Studies in the Psychology of Sex: the sexologist notes that “in Greek the word χoῖρoς means both a sow and a woman’s pudenda,” and he references extended wordplay on the association in Aristophanes’ Acharnians (see Acharnians 764–95).6 In homology with Bella as Circe, then, Joyce’s neologism looks back to Attic old comedy. Alongside overt parallels with the Odyssey, there are subtler, more complicated continuities and criss-crosses. In keeping with Homer, the episode showcases not only human–­nonhuman animal hybridity but also the process of becoming animal. During Bloom’s first appearance in “Circe,” he “disappears” into a pork butchery (413; 15:155) and emerges with a pig’s trotter and sheep’s hoof in hand – e­ ffectively substituting his own human extremities with those of the nonhuman animal and thereby beginning his farmyard transformation mere moments into the episode. More subtly still, the long, roving-camera stage directions that open 6  Havelock Ellis, Studies in the Psychology of Sex: Erotic Symbolism; The Mechanism of Detumescence; The Psychic State in Pregnancy (Philadelphia: F. A. Davis), vol. v, 86, n. 1. See Aristophanes, Acharnians: Knights, ed. and trans. Jeffrey Henderson (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1998), 150–55.

“Circe” linger momentarily on “a room lit by a candle stuck in a bottleneck,” where a sex worker combs the knots from the hair of “a scrufulous child” (409; 15:40–41). Scrofula is a tubercular condition characterized by inflamed lymph nodes in the neck; child sufferers are a staple of nineteenth-century medical texts, improvement tracts, and the sentimental tear-jerker. Yet Joyce, as Martin Amis has observed, “never uses a cliché in innocence.”7 At the same time that this naturalistic, if hackneyed, detail indexes the sordidity and deprivation of the red-light district, it also compresses another Circean porky transformation into the episode’s opening: “scrofula,” a diminutive of the Latin scrōfa or “breeding sow,” means “a little pig,” as Joyce would have known from Skeat’s Etymological Dictionary.8 The child is becoming-piglet. The putatively verisimilar in “Circe” is thus never much further than a loaded etymology or careful rereading away from the fantastic, from irreality. Typically, however, we are not called upon to exercise our readerly ingenuity but are hit over the head with the episode’s playful and persistent blurring of boundaries and subjectivities, its open disregard for neat divisions into actual and fanciful. At the centenary of its first publication, we can split critical engagement with “Circe” into two more or less equal, if overlapping, periods. The earlier of these is ­characterized by readings that themselves divide “Circe” in two in order to distinguish a level of realist or realistic action from one of trippy excess; the second phase of reception, beginning in the late 1970s, abandoned this two-tone search for an underlying objective plane in favor of technicolor variety, seeing in the episode a mixture or fusion of disparate textual genres and popular theatrical forms. The first approach is reconciliatory or rationalizing; the second, pluralist. The first is referential; the

7  Martin Amis, “Teacher’s Pet,” Atlantic Monthly 258:3 (September 1986), 96–99, at 99. 8  W. W. Skeat, An Etymological Dictionary of the English Language (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1882), 534. In Stephen Hero, Stephen reads his Skeat “by the hour.” Joyce, Stephen Hero, ed. Theodore Spencer et al. (Norfolk: New Directions, 1963), 26.

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second, self-­referential.9 Early critics sought to ground fantastical elements in a baseline realism by cueing hallucinations to trigger words or deeds that, within the storyworld of the novel, “really” happen. More recent critics have problematized or else flat-out rejected this operative contradistinction. “Hallucination,” it should be noted, is a commonality of all critical responses, as it carries Joyce’s imprimatur: the term appears in the “plan” or schema of the novel that he drew up in late 1921 (L III 54). There is little else in the way of authorial commentary. In 1938, Joyce told Jacques Mercanton, a Swiss writer turned cultural intermediary, that the “hallucinations” were “made up out of elements from the past, which the reader will recognize if he has read the book five, ten, or twenty times.”10 A tall order for all but dedicated readers of Joyce. Importantly, however, the terms of his explanation offer support to both realist and discursive readings of the episode. An example will illustrate the varying emphases of these two broad critical approaches. Late in the episode, Zoe tells Stephen’s fortune by reading his palm. The outstretched hand, in combination with her words and Lynch’s utterance “Pandy bat” (523; 15:3666), said as he smacks Kitty’s backside, summon forth the bodiless heads of both Father Dolan and Father Conmee of Clongowes Wood College. The former is the disciplinarian who beats Stephen in A Portrait (see P 49). A reading of Dolan as surprise Jack-in-the-box p ­redicated on a mechanism of realistic stimulus–fantastic response would connect these details to Stephen’s recollection in both “Aeolus” and “Scylla and Charybdis” of suffering corporal punishment at the priest’s hands (see 130, 182; 7:618, 9:211) and would note how “Circe” revisits this unprocessed 9  For the critical reception of “Circe” up to the early 1990s, this chapter is indebted to Andrew Gibson’s introduction to Reading Joyce’s “Circe,” ed. Gibson (Amsterdam: Rodopi Press, 1994), 3–32. An important lever between the two critical phases is Hugh Kenner’s by now classic essay on the episode. See Hugh Kenner, “Circe,” in James Joyce’s “Ulysses”: Critical Essays, ed. Clive Hart and David Hayman (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974), 341–62. 10  Joyce quoted in Jacques Mercanton, “The Hours of James Joyce, Part I,” trans. Lloyd C. Parks, Kenyon Review 24:4 (Autumn 1962), 700–30, at 701–2.

traumatic memory in the context of the erotic. Understandably, psychologic and psychoanalytic terminology and frameworks proliferate in this approach. As early as 1931, Joseph Warren Beach invoked the “Freudian mythology” of the episode as evidence for Joyce’s ­“unrealistic freedom in handling facts.”11 More recently, Maud Ellmann has mentioned Freudian “residues of 16 June 1904” that are “restaged in the dreamscape” of Monto.12 Although critical approaches never neatly supersede one another but follow a life cycle of emergent, dominant, and residual application, a second-phase reading would begin by questioning the premise of any realistic baseline. Zoe, tracing the lines on Stephen’s palm, and Lynch speak in the clipped telegraphese that is a feature of character dialogue in the episode: zoe […] (To Stephen.) I see it in your face. The eye, like that. (She frowns with lowered head.) lynch (Laughing, slaps Kitty behind twice.) Like that. Pandy bat. (523; 15:3663–66)

Character dialogue in “Circe” is fragmentary and elliptical, frequently subjectless and cast in the present tense. In fine, it exhibits all the features we have learned to associate with interior monologue in Ulysses: hardly the stuff of objective reality when externalized as speech. Inasmuch as Lynch repeats Zoe’s final words, her first line repeats verbatim an utterance of Myles Crawford’s in “Aeolus” when he, soliciting copy for the Evening Telegraph, unwittingly reminds Stephen of Dolan. (Contextually, both of the older men are, in a broad sense, encouraging Stephen to write.) Compare “Aeolus” with the martinet Dolanese of A Portrait: – I want you to write something for me, he [Crawford] said. Something with a bite in it.

11  Joseph Warren Beach, “The Novel from James to Joyce,” Nation 132:3440 (June 10, 1931), 634–36, at 636. 12  Maud Ellmann, “James Joyce,” in Joyce, T. S. Eliot, Auden, Beckett: Great Shakespeareans, ed. Adrian Poole (London: Continuum, 2012), 10–56, at 37.

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You can do it. I see it in your face. In the lexicon of youth... See it in your face. See it in your eye. Lazy idle little schemer. (130; 7:616–18) – Hoho, Fleming! An idler of course. I can see it in your eye. […] – Out here, Dedalus. Lazy little schemer. I see schemer in your face. (P 40, 41)

Zoe, in switching momentarily from palmistry to physiognomy, might conceivably repeat the editor’s words and thereby recall Dolan to Stephen’s mind. That the doubly nested recurrence of material from A Portrait is rendered explicit by Lynch, who names the priest’s preferred instrument of punishment, heaps coincidence upon coincidence and militates against verisimilitude. The violence and ostentation of Dolan’s entrance – “Twice loudly a pandybat cracks, the coffin of the pianola flies open” (523; 15:3667) – serves to normalize surrounding textual material, but if instead we forego the question of what is and what is not real, these same elements recombine as inter- and intra-textual relationships, whose essentially aesthetic or textual nature is keyed by Lynch’s associative offrhyme: “Like that. Pandy bat.” While no one would suggest that split-level readings of real– unreal in “Circe” do not continue to be both generative and insightful, the gains of the more textualist approach are, first, that it levels the implicit hierarchy between hallucination and everything else and, second, that it opens the episode up to comparative analysis with other texts and contexts from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, whether – as recent scholarship has explored – the pratfall comedy of Charlie Chaplin’s silent film, Irish political tracts, Continental masochistic fiction, or beyond.13 Seeds of this comparativism are discernible in some of the earliest commentary on the episode. In his Dial “Paris Letter” of June 1922,

13  See Jesse H. McKnight, “Chaplin and Joyce: A Mutual Understanding of Gesture,” James Joyce Quarterly 45:3/4 (Spring–Summer 2008), 493–506; Martin Greene, “Griffith in Nighttown,” History Ireland 28:3 (May–June 2020), 28–31; Tristan Power, “‘Married His Cook to Massach’: Masochistic Fiction in Ulysses,” Joyce Studies Annual (2017), 135–62.

Pound maintained that Joyce had “swallowed […] whole” another unstageable play: Gustave Flaubert’s La Tentation de saint Antoine.14 There remains ample room for psychologism in this expansive model, but it is no longer the privileged lens through which we view the episode. Rather, theories of mind and behavior have to fend for themselves in the interpretive marketplace of intertexts alongside such competitors as parapsychology or turn-of-the-century pseudoscience.15 An early, influential reading of the episode by Stuart Gilbert, another of Joyce’s lifetime cultural intermediaries, illustrates what was at stake for proponents of the referential approach. For Gilbert, the hallucinations are “the logical amplification of some real object, glosses of some silent or uttered thought,” a principle of reactive dynamism that he articulated to counter critical pushback on “Circe” as incomprehensible or haphazard: “mere empty visions descending from a cuckoocloudland of befuddlement and exhaustion.”16 Gilbert’s defense of authorial control over caprice came at a time when similar charges of irrationality were being leveled against the apparent “multicolored chaos” of Work in Progress, but it is perhaps telling that in writing of the pleasures afforded by the episode he should invoke a textual simile: discovering the real spur or prompt for Circean excess is, he enthuses, “as engrossing as the pursuit of clues in a wellknit detective story.”17 What is the cost of relinquishing the real–unreal division? If we read “Circe” as a stylistic or textual mélange, character development over the course of the episode assumes less importance. With widely and wildly heterogeneous elements occupying a level playing field, Bloom’s arc of confrontation and

14  Ezra Pound, “Paris Letter,” Dial 72:6 (June 1922), 623–29, at 623. 15  See, for example, Charles Ko, “Subliminal Consciousness,” Review of English Studies 59:242 (November 2008), 740–65. 16  Stuart Gilbert, James Joyce’s “Ulysses”: A Study (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1931), 298–99. 17  Ronald Symond, “The Third Mr Joyce,” London Mercury 29:172 (February 1934), 318–21, at 321; Gilbert, James Joyce’s “Ulysses,” 298.

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­ urgation – a critical staple of the mid-century p reception – becomes just one more coequal among a multitude of teeming elements. The redemption narrative of cathartic outpouring followed by acceptance of Molly’s infidelity is, in this view, just one more spinning component in “Circe’s” darkly comic kaleidoscope. Early in “Oxen” the humor resides in decoding elements of the stylistic parodies back to real-world counterparts: the “four dwarfmen” of “Finlandy” are the legs of a table; the “vat of silver,” a tin of sardines (369–70; 14:142, 149–50). “Circe” already undertakes much of this interpretive heavy-lifting for us. Lynch’s wand is revealed as a poker; the “dragon sandstrewer” at the beginning of the episode asserts and collapses a fantastical correspondence even as it chugs into view (414; 15:185). The work to be done is intra- rather than extra-textual: the reader must leaf back through the book in search of the original or precursor to nighttown detail, a recourse that p ­ ertains to the episode’s nominally realist elements as much as to its patently hallucinatory. Even the formal innovation of “Circe” as play-script finds a precedent in the playlet of “Scylla and Charybdis” (see 200–1; 9:893–934). Thus the task of tracking the Homeric correspondences – what Franco Moretti acidly refers to as our collective “Homer–Joyce homework” – becomes, in “Circe,” reassigned to Ulysses itself.18 Whether we read the episode as ­psychodrama 18  Franco Moretti, “The Long Goodbye: Ulysses and the End of Liberal Capitalism,” in Signs Taken for Wonders: Essays in the Sociology of Literary Forms, trans. Susan Fischer (London: Verso, 1983), 182–208, at 192.

or untrammeled flight into the unconscious or even as a lengthy pop quiz on the previous four hundred pages, our approaches rely on the taut phrasal ligatures that tether “Circe” to the rest of the novel. So, one answer as to why Virag’s head quacks, is that it does not. The single-word line of dialogue draws on Bloom’s thoughts in “Lestrygonians” about “Dr Hy Franks […] That quack doctor” (146; 8:96–98). Virag is not mimicking an animal sound so much as repeating Bloom’s change of professional charlatanism – another form of mimicry, to be sure, and a deft animalization of previously encountered material. Call it “Wagnerian leitmotif,” “textual memory” or what you will, the broader strategy of tracking and tracing Circean backreference makes for absorbing reading, as Gilbert argued, but it also threatens to narrow the episode to the status of particularly involved puzzle-box. Is there more to “Circe” than the solving of these intratextual conundrums? How does character arc fare when plotted against the episode’s frenetic redeployment of fragments and half-phrases of Ulysses or when character itself seems to be little more than a function of genre pastiche? That veteran readers of “Circe” and newcomers alike evidently find little to no difficulty in maintaining an emotional attachment to Stephen and Bloom throughout the episode attests to the brilliance of Joyce’s achievement in crafting a play within the novel that, at one and the same time, revels in its stagey artifice and manages to be profoundly moving. In so doing, “Circe,” more so than any other episode of Ulysses, anticipates the cascading “Echoland” (FW 13:5) of Joyce’s last work, Finnegans Wake.

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“Circe” · 408

G 15:20

nighttown: Joyce’s name for the red-light district of Dublin. will-o’-the-wisps: light the way to the Walpurgisnacht (Witches’ Sabbath) in Goethe’s Faust. flimsy: grimy (G, correction). lumps of coal

and copper snow: lumps of coral and copper snow (G, correction). Saint Vitus’ dance: nervous disorder. Kithogue: Anglicized Irish, ciotóg, “a left-handed, unlucky person.”

409 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 583

G 15:40 for scrufulous read scrofulous

moves: snores (G, correction). totting: scavenging. Signs on you: Hiberno-English, you have the

appearance of. Cavan, Cootehill and Belturbet: towns in County Cavan, considered wild by Dubliners.

584 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 410

G 15:60

G 15:80

the parson: Stephen, because of his black clothes and soft hat. introit: Latin, “entrance chant.” paschal time: period from Easter to Pentecost; there is no specific introit for this period but the introit for Easter Sunday begins, “I have risen and now am I with you once more. Alleluia.” Vidi aquam egredientem de templo a latere

dextro: Latin, “I saw a stream of water welling forth from the right of the temple,” said during Paschal time while the priest blesses the congregation with holy water. (Altius aliquantulum.) Et omnes ad quos pervenit aqua ista: Latin, “(Somewhat higher.) And all those to whom this water came.”

411 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 585

G 15:100

Faithful place: off Lower Tyrone Street, parallel to Mabbot Street. squarepusher: military expression for boyfriend; see 155. greaser: person who lubricates machines. mantrap: (slang) brothel. Stag: HibernoEnglish, obstinate, cold-hearted woman. Kildbride: Kilbride (G, correction). (Triumphaliter.) Salvi facti i sunt: Latin, “(Triumphantly.) And they were saved.” So that gesture […] would be a universal

language: from Stephen Hero. gift of tongues: miracle of Pentecost, when the apostles are visited by the Holy Ghost, Acts 2:1–4. entelechy: from Aristotle, realization of essence; see 182. Pornosophical philotheology: Greek neologism, combining prostitute, wisdom, love, and theology. Even the allwisest stagyrite […] by a light of love: Aristotle was born on Stagira and kept a mistress, Herpyllis.

586 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 412

G 15:120

G 15:140

the loaf and jug of bread and wine in Omar: line of Edward Fitzgerald’s (1809–83) translation of The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859). Damn your yellow stick: Stephen praises Lynch’s use of yellow as a curse in Portrait (P 71). la belle dame sans merci: French, “the beautiful woman without pity,” Keats’s 1819 poem. ad

deam qui laetificat juventutem meam: Latin, “to the goddess who gives joy to my youth”; after the response in the Mass, Ad deum qui laetificat iuventutem meam, “To God who gives joy to my youth.” take your crutch and walk: Jesus, on healing a crippled man, John 5:8. Gillen’s: P. Gillen, hairdresser, 64 Talbot Street.

413 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 587

G 15:160

bonham: from banbh, Irish, “piglet.” Antonio Rabaiotti’s: restaurant at 65 Talbot Street. N. g.: see 56. Olhousen’s: W. Olhausen, pork butcher, 72 Talbot Street. crubeen: pig’s foot; see 140. Cormack’s corner: Thomas Cormack, grocer, tea, wine, and spirit merchant, 74 Talbot Street. brigade: the Dublin

Metropolitan Fire Brigade. Beggar’s bush: suburban district in southeast Dublin. London’s burning, London’s burning! On fire, on fire!: song and nursery rhyme about the Great Fire of London (1666), based on the earlier “Scotland’s Burning,” about Henry VIII’s burning of Edinburgh (1544).

588 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 414

for awsing read aswing

G 15:180

G 15:200

sandstrewer: tram car that cleans the rails and scatters sand. hattrick: William York Tindall describes an implausible trick of placing a hat over a turd on the pavement and, pretending it is a bird, asking a policeman to stand guard over it; hat trick: sporting term, three successes of the same kind in a short period. Sandow’s exerciser: Sandow-Whitely pulley

system for muscle development. The Providential: either Provident Life, 113 Grafton Street or the Provident Clerks’ Guarantee and Accident Offices, 27 Westmoreland Street. Poor mamma’s panacea: Bloom’s potato talisman. Leonard’s corner: F. Leonard, grocer and ironmonger, 64–66 Upper Clanbrassil, near Bloom’s childhood home.

415 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 589

G 15:220

Mark of the beast: a mark on the hand or forehead that allows the bearer to buy or sell, Revelations 13:7, 16–17. O’Beirne’s wall: O’Beirne Brothers, tea and wine merchants, 62 Mabbot Street. visage unknown, injected with dark mercury: mercury was used to treat the symptoms of syphilis; Hermes (Mercury) gives Odysseus a protective herb called moly. Buenas noches, señiorita Blanca, que calle es esta? Spanish, “Good evening, Miss White. What street is this?” Sraid Mabbot: Irish, “Mabbot Street.” Slan leath: slán leat,

Irish, “goodbye”; see 301. Gaelic league: established 1893 to assist the revival of traditional Irish culture. I beg. (He leaps right, sackragman right.) BLOOM I beg. (He swerves (G, inclusion). fireeater: belligerent person. Irish Cyclist: weekly newspaper. In darkset Stepaside: In darkest Stepaside (G, correction); a village seven miles outside Dublin, here referred to in the style of Sir Henry Morton Stanley’s In Darkest Africa (1890). Wash off his sins of the world: after John 1:29.

590 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 416

G 15:240

G 15:260

sweets of sin: book purchased by Bloom; see 226. an elder in Zion: reference to the anti-Semitic The Protocols of the Elders of Zion (1903), a bogus collection of lectures “by” Jewish elders on world domination. goy: Hebrew, “gentile.” Ja, ich weiss, papachi: German, “Yes, I know, papa.” of his fathers Abraham and Jacob: God

declares to Moses “I am the God of thy father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob,” Exodus 3:6. Mosenthal: Salomon Hermann Mosenthal, German-Austrian playwright and archivist and author of Deborah (1850); see 73.

417 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 591

G 15:280

waterbury keyless watch: watch with a built-in key, made in Waterbury, Connecticut. double curb Albert: watch chain named after Prince Albert. Leopoldleben: Yiddish, “beloved Leopold.” Goim nachez: Yiddish, “The gratification of the gentiles.” widow Twankey’s: Aladdin’s mother in popular pantomimes. blay: Hiberno-English, unbleached. an Agnus Dei: Latin, “Lamb of God,”

Christ, thus a medal bearing the image of a lamb. Sacred Heart of Mary: variation of “Sacred Heart of Jesus.” at all, at all: Hiberno-English idiom expressing concern. Beside her mirage […] eyes and raven hair: resembles Flaubert’s description of the Queen of Sheba in The Temptation of Saint Anthony. Opulent curves: echoes a phrase from The Sweets of Sin; see 226.

592 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

G 15:300

G 15:320

howdah: seat with a canopy on the back of an elephant. Nebrakada! Femininum: from a macaronic love spell; see 233.

“Circe” · 418

419 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 593

G 15:340

We’re a capital couple are Bloom and I […]: from the advertising slogan for Brooke’s Monkey Brand soap, “We’re a capital couple the Moon and I, / I polish the Earth, she brightens the sky.” Sweny, the druggist: see 80. in the disc of the soapsun: the face

of Jesus appears in the sun at the end of Flaubert’s The Temptation of Saint Anthony. Ti trema un poco il cuore: Italian, “Does your heart tremble a little?” after Zerlina’s “Mi trema un poco il cor”; see 90. that Voglio: see 61.

594 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 420

G 15:360

G 15:380

Bridie Kelly: prostitute with whom Bloom lost his virginity; see 393. the flash houses: brothels. Sixtyseven: constable no. 67 of the night police patrol.

With all my worldly goods I thee and thou: after the pledge given by the groom in the marriage service: “with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

421 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 595

G 15:400

Walls have hears: Walls have ears (G, correction). Black refracts heat: black absorbs heat; see 55. Rescue of fallen women Magdalen asylum: home, or penitentiary, for unmarried mothers and prostitutes, run by the order of Our Lady of Charity of Refuge, 104 Lower Gloucester Street. Othello black brute: Othello is described by Iago as a “black ram” and “a Barbary horse” (i.i) and figures himself as a “circumcisèd dog” (v.ii). the bones and cornerman at the Livermore christies: blackface minstrels were called christies after

the Christy Minstrels; bones and cornermen were types of blackface players; The Livermore Brothers’ World Renowned Court Minstrels played in Dublin in 1894. Tom and Sam Bohee: George and James Bohee, AfroCanadian minstrel performers who wore black makeup; appeared in Dublin in 1894. Sambo: see 315. white Kaffir eyes: George H. Chirgwin, a blackface musichall performer, painted white diamonds around his eyes and called himself the White-Eyed Kaffir (see Cheryl Herr, Joyce’s Anatomy of Culture).

596 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 422

G 15:420

G 15:440

There’s someone in the house […] on the old banjo: from the nineteenth-century American popular song “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.” babby: baby. ruck: Hiberno-English, boor, unrefined person. square party: foursome. the dear gazelle: from Thomas

Moore’s Lalla Rookh (1817). Old Christmas night: January 6, before the switch from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian calendar in 1752. the Irving Bishop game: Washington Irving Bishop (1847–89), magician and mind reader.

423 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 597

for watered silkfacings read wateredsilk facings

G 15:460

G 15:480

blue masonic badge: blue demarcated Masonic Degrees and Lodges. mother-of-pear: mother-of-pearl (G, correction). Ireland, home and beauty: from 1870s song “The Death of Nelson,” lyrics by S. J. Arnold, music by John Braham. The dear dead days […] old

sweet song: see 61. The witching hour of the night: “’Tis now the very witching time of night,”Hamlet (iii.ii.406). Là ci darem la mano: Zerlina and Don Giovanni’s duet; see 61. Voglio e non: Zerlina’s ambivalence in Don Giovanni; see 61.

598 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 424

G 15:500

High jinks: parlor game of dares and forfeits but also used to mean boisterous games, pranks, and generally clowning around. glad eye: come-hither look. The answer is a lemon: a derisive reply (Beale). Leah: play

at the Gaiety; see 73, 89. Collis and Ward: solicitors; see 85. a skull and crossbones: symbol associated with masonic initiation ceremonies. polonies: see 56. Findon haddies: cured fish, often haddock.

425 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 599

G 15:520

Bright’s!: kidney disease; see 261. deluthering: Hiberno-English, to deceive in a coaxing manner. Jewman’s melt: Anglicized Irish, milte, “spleen.” Saint

Andrew’s cross: national emblem of Scotland, after the cross on which its patron saint was crucified.

600 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 426

G 15:540

G 15:560

Fairyhouse races: annual races including the Irish Grand National, held at a track fifteen miles northwest of Dublin. Saxe: cloth of a shade of blue associated with Saxony. Leopardstown: racetrack six miles south-southeast of Dublin. Nevertell: horse foaled in 1910. Foxrock: affluent suburban area southeast

of Dublin, close to the Leopardstown racetrack. shanderadan: variant of “shandrydan,” light carriage with a hood or rickety vehicle (Dolan). tammy: fine worsted cloth. Mrs Joe Gallaher’s: wife of Ignatius Gallaher. Maggot: odd whim or obsession, or person taken by one.

427 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 601

G 15:580

hellsgates: nickname for the entry point to an area of cheaper brothels at the intersection of Tyrone and Mabbot Streets. gaffer: foreman of a group of laborers. Beaver street: off Lower Tyrone Street. Derwan’s plasterers: James Derwin, builder and alderman, 114 Drumcondra Terrace, Fairview. Spattered with size and

lime of their lodges: the loitering builders (or masons) are spattered with mortar, which contains lime and a thickening agent called “size.” Glauber salts: sodium sulfate laxative named after the German chemist Johann R. Glauber (1604–70).

602 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 428

G 15:600

G 15:620

plodges: walks laboriously. shebeenkeeper: keeper of an unlicensed bar. Shilling a bottle of stout: exorbitant

price at the time. Portobello barracks: see 165. We are the boys. Of Wexford: Irish ballad; see 124.

429 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 603

G 15:640

for sicksewet read sicksweet

The galling chain […] our native land: from the chorus of “The Boys of Wexford.” Scene at Westland row: following Stephen and Lynch, who took the Loop Line train from Westland Row station (near Holles Street Maternity Hospital) to Amiens Street station, Bloom inadvertently boarded a first-class car, traveled a station past Amiens Street, and took another train back. Mulligan and Haines, after a dispute with Stephen in Westland Row, have returned to Sandycove. Malahide: town ten miles north of Dublin. Relieving office: place to urinate; Bloom

puns on the charitable Poor Relief Office in the nearby Custom House. cheapjacks: traveling hawkers offering bargains based on initially inflated prices. organs: (slang) workmen who lend money at high rates of interest. Truelock’s window: Trulock, Harriss, and Richardson, Ltd, gun and rifle manufacturers, 9 Dawson Street; or Richard Trulock, gunsmith, 13 Parliament Street. Kildare street club: elite AngloIrish club. birdseye cigarettes: Birdseye’s tobacco is cut along the fibers of leaves. Sweets of sin: fictional novel; see 226.

604 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 430

G 15:660

G 15:680

rencontres: French, “encounters.” Chacun son goût: French, “Everyone to his own taste.” he lets unrolled the crubeen […] gluts himself: echoes Aeneas’s bribe to the three-headed dog Cerebus in the Underworld

in Virgil’s Aeneid. Bloom. Of Bloom. For Bloom. Bloom: his name declined like a Latin or Greek noun. kankury kake: Bloom fed Banbury cakes to the gulls in “Lestrygonians,” see 146.

431 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 605

G 15:700

G 15:720

Bob Doran falls silently into an area: sunken area in front of the basement of a house; in the Odyssey, Elpenor, one of Odysseus’s men, drunkenly fell from a roof and died, meeting Odysseus as a spirit in Hades; see 97. Harold’s cross bridge: bridge over the Grand Canal in southern suburb of Dublin. Bad French: (slang) obscene English. Signor Maffei: from Ruby,

Pride of the Ring; see 62. Ajax: after the skilled and courageous Greek warrior in the Iliad. Leo ferox: Latin, “ferocious lion.” the Indian sign: magical power, curse, or jinx. von Bloom Pasha: Blum Pasha, moniker for Hungarian Jewish financier Sir Julius Blum (1843–1919). Donnerwetter: German, literally “thunderstorm”; figuratively, “Damn!”

606 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 432

G 15:740

cadi’s dress: Arab or Persian minor magistrate or judge. Legion of Honour: order of military or civil merit founded by Napoleon in 1802. Junior Army and Navy: club for middle-rank officers in the British Army, 12 Grafton Street in London. besetting: surrounding with

hostile intent. old joke, rose of Castile: play on the name of the opera; see 126. The Castle: Dublin Castle. crimson halter: sash worn by ladies of a Catholic sodality. Irish Times: see 152. Lionel, thou lost one!: Lionel’s aria “M’apparì,” in Martha; see 113.

433 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 607

G 15:760

G 15:780

plucking at his heart […] dueguard of fellowcraft: Bloom gives a Masonic sign of distress; Fellowcraft, Second Degree in the Craft of Freemasonry. worshipful master: Master, Third Degree in Freemasonry. light of love: inconstant woman, courtesan; see 183. The Lyons mail. Lesurques and Dubosc: Joseph Lesurques (1763–96) was convicted and executed for holding up the Lyons mail, although the actual robber, Dubosc, was arrested later; Eugène Moreau, Paul Siraudin, and Alfred Delacour’s play The Courier of Lyons (1850) was adapted as The Lyons Mail (1854) by Charles Reade (1814–84). the Childs

fratricide case: see 96. Bective: Bective Rangers, Dublin rugby club. past of Ephraim: pass of Ephraim (G, correction). Shitbroleeth: after Shibboleth, Hebrew, “sheaf of corn,” password set by Jephthah to identify the enemy Ephraimites who could not pronounce the word, Judges 12:6; password for the masonic Fellow Craft. mare’s nest: illusory, irrelevant discovery. the heroic defence of Rorke’s Drift: 120 British troops successfully defended this British post in Zululand against 4000 Zulu soldiers in 1879. The royal Dublins: Tweedy’s regiment, the Royal Dublin Fusiliers.

608 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 434

G 15:800

The R. D. F.: The Royal Dublin Fusiliers. Up the Boers!: Pro-Afrikaner, anti-British cheer. J. P.: Justice of the Peace. in the absentminded war: the Boer War, after Kipling’s “The Absent-Minded Beggar”; see 179. under general Gough in the park: equestrian portrait of the Irishborn General Hugh Gough (1779–1869), first Viscount Gough, in Phoenix Park. Spion Kop: mountain in Natal, twenty-five miles

from Ladysmith; scene of a Boer victory in 1900. Bloemfontein: capital of the Orange Free State, South Africa, taken by the British in 1900. Jim Bludso. Hold her nozzle again the bank: in the 1871 ballad, “Jim Bludso (of the Prairie Belle),” (1871) by John Hay (1838–1905), Jim heroically saves the passengers of his burning riverboat. Bluebags: (slang) police constables, or barristers.

435 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 609

G 15:820

G 15:840

literateur: littérateur (G, correction). the laughing witch hand in hand: from Matcham’s Masterstroke; see 66. Mr J. B. Pinker: Joyce’s literary agent in London from 1915. jackdaw of Rheims: verse legend in Richard Harris Barham’s (1788–1845) The Ingoldsby Legends (1840), in which a jackdaw confesses to a theft and is canonized. corpus delicti: Latin, object or,

literally, “body of the crime.” Moses, Moses, king […] in the Daily News: parody of Dublin street rhyme, “Moses,” “Holy Moses, King of the Jews, / Bought his wife a pair of shoes. / When the shoes began to wear, / Holy Moses began to swear. / When the shoes were quite worn out, / Holy Moses began to shout.”

610 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 436

G 15:860

insert comma after ripplecloth

Street angel and house devil: proverbial expression for a person of inconsistent public and private conduct. of the unfortunate class: prostitute. six pounds a

year and my chances: scullery maid’s annual wage plus an allowance, or “chances.”

437 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 611

G 15:880

G 15:900 for through read though

Play cricket: (slang) play fair. twict: Dublin dialect, “twice.” your lord: incorrect combination of “My Lord” and “Your Lordship.” GEORGES FOTTRELL: Clerk of the Crown and Peace, Sessions

House, 26 Green Street. waterlily: symbol of purity and innocence. the memory of the past: from “There Is a Flower That Bloometh,” in the opera Maritana (1845); see 342.

612 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 438

G 15:920

G 15:940

Dockrell’s: Thomas Dockrell & Sons: contractors, window glass, wallpaper dealers, etc., 47–49 Lower Stephen Street. pensums: school tasks or lessons. boreens: Anglicized Irish, “little roads or lanes.” melodeon: small organ powered by foot-bellows.

Britannia metalbound: inexpensive but highly reflective alloy. Titbits: sensationalist tabloid pennyweekly digest; see 65. stuffgown: woolen gown worn by junior counsel. disguised: intoxicated.

439 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 613

G 15:960

delete comma after accused

an infant: legal term for a minor, under twenty-one. Prima facie: Latin, “at first appearance,” accepted as correct unless proved otherwise. he could a tale unfold: the Ghost to Hamlet (i.v.15–16). pigeonbreasted: chest with prominent sternum. lascar’s:

East Indian sailor. Mosaic code: “an eye for an eye,” Exodus 21:24. the hidden hand: secret or occult malignant influence, after Tom Taylor’s play The Hidden Hand (1870).

614 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 440

G 15:980

G 15:1000

cast a stone […] wrong turning: after Jesus’s refusal to stone an adulteress, John 8:3–7. dastard: despicable coward. Agendath Netaim: society of planters; see 58. A penny in the pound: Bloom’s promised return to creditors. The mirage of the lake of Kinnereth: The image of the lake of Kinnereth (G, correction);

location of a Palestine Land Development farm; see 57. Bleibtreustrasse, Berlin, W, 13: the address was listed earlier as W, 15; see 58. avine: variant of avian. proboscidal: related to a proboscis or pronounced nose. levee: male-only afternoon assembly held by a king or his representative.

441 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 615

G 15:1020

G 15:1040

MRS YELVERTON BARRY: evokes Barry Yelverton (1736–1805), First Viscount Avonmore, Irish MP, lawyer, and orator. dolman: long open wrap. prentice backhand: apprentice or improvised backhand. Riding: division of a county. the gods: (slang) upper balcony of a theater. Theatre Royal: see 89. command performance: requested by the Lord Lieutenant. La Cigale: French, “the grasshopper”; comedy by Henry Meilhac (1831–97) and Ludovic Halévy (1834–1908), and light opera La Cigale et la formi (The Grasshopper and the Ant), by Henri-Alfred Duru (1829–89) and Henri Chivot, music by Edmond

Andran (1840–1901). Dunsink time: see 147. The Girl with the Three Pair of Stays: English title of 1878 novel, La femme aux trois corsets, by Charles-Paul de Kock. MRS BELLINGHAM: Edward Bellingham (b.1879) was a lieutenant in the Royal Scots Guards; Sir Daniel Bellingham (c.1622–71) was the first lord mayor of Dublin. sir Thornley Stoker’s: (1845– 1912), president of the Royal College of Surgeons. edelweiss: German, “noble-white,” alpine flower. Bluebeard: legendary wife-murderer. Ikey Mo: short for Ikey Moses, a term for a Jewish person. darbies: (slang) handcuffs.

616 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 442

for ffeecy read fleecy

G 15:1060

Venus in furs: Venus im Pelz, 1870 novel by the Austrian Leopold von Sacher-Masoch (1836–95) in which the main character, Severin, persuades his lover, Wanda, to enslave him. my frostbound coachman […] wearing my livery: Severin plays the role of Wanda’s coachman. the armorial bearings […] couped or: the Bellingham crest, with the gold head of a male deer on a black shield. THE HONOURABLE MRS

MERVYN TALBOYS: the Talboys baronetcy became extinct in 1560 due to the lack of a male heir. hard hat: see 393. the Inniskillings: the 6th (Inniskilling) Dragoons, named after Enniskillen, Co. Fermanagh. chukkar: period of a polo match. cob: powerful, short-legged horse. to give him a most vicious horsewhipping: in Venus in Furs, Severin fantasizes that Wanda will lash him.

443 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 617

G 15:1080

G 15:1100

I’ll make you dance Jack Latten: threat P. W. Joyce traces to John Lattin of Kildare who, on a wager, danced twenty miles, changing his step every eighth of a mile. You have lashed […] nature into fury: in Venus in Furs, the initially reluctant Wanda becomes

passionately dominant. Give him ginger: after the horse trading practice of putting ginger under a dull horse’s tail to make the animal look lively. He offers the other cheek: after Jesus’s metaphor for non-retaliation in the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 5:38–39.

618 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 444

G 15:1120

G 15:1140

rowel: spiked disc at the end of a spur. Messenger of the Sacred Heart: monthly devotional Catholic newspaper. Evening Telegraph: see 113. The very reverend Canon […] Hughes S. J.: the three priests who celebrated the Benediction in the church of Mary,

Star of the Sea in “Nausicaa.” Cuckoo: the cuckoo clock in “Nausicaa,” suggestive of Bloom’s status as a cuckold; see 364–65. Jigjag, Jigajiga. Jigjag: sexual intercourse. a Nameless One: poem by James Clarence Mangan.

445 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 619

G 15:1160

Weight for age: race in which the horses are handicapped differentially to even their chances. tip: (slang) head. Hundred shillings to five: the odds of Throwaway’s winning the Gold Cup. Another girl’s plait cut: fetish studied by Richard von Krafft-Ebing (1840–1902), German psychiatrist and author of Psychopathia Sexualis (1886). Jack the Ripper: serial killer active in London in 1888 and never apprehended. And in black. A mormon. Anarchist: Bloom’s

mourning attire is misinterpreted, as Mormons and anarchists were also known to wear black. From his forehead […] Mosaic ramshorns: Falkiner, as highest-ranking judicial officer; through a translation error, Moses was thought by some to have horns and Michelangelo Buonarroti’s statue depicts him as such. the black cap: worn by an English judge when passing the death sentence.

620 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 446

G 15:1180

Henry Clay: cigar; see 237. Who’ll hang Judas Iscariot?: Judas hanged himself after betraying Jesus to the Romans for thirty pieces of silver, Matthew 27:3–5. your Majesty, the Mersey terror: the fictional Rumbold is based in Liverpool, which is on the River Mersey, and fails to address the judge as

“your Lordship”; see 291. Neck or nothing: from Swift’s Complete Collection of Genteel and Ingenious Conversation (1738). George’s church: in Hardwicke Place, just east of Bloom’s house and 1,000 yards northwest of Bella Cohen’s. Zoo: Zoological Gardens in Phoenix Park.

447 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 621

G 15:1200

for lift read lifts

for it was read It was

G 15:1220

scorbutic: suffering from scurvy. Doctor Finucane: Thomas D. Finucane, apothecary and male midwife, 44 Main Street, Blackrock. Bloom, I am […] list, O, list: after the Ghost, Hamlet i.v.9–22; see 181. the voice of Esau: older son of Isaac, cheated of his birthright by Jacob, Genesis 27:22; see 203. Blesses himself: makes

the sign of the cross. It is not in the penny catechism: the Shorter Catechism (1886), an accessible account of Church doctrine, which warns against communication with the spirits of the dead. metempsychosis: transmigration of souls; see 62.

622 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 448

G 15:1240

G 15:1260

a staff of twisted poppies: Morpheus, god of sleep, carries a poppy stem. Namine. Jacobs Vobiscuits. Amen: garbled Latin, from the Mass, Dominus vobiscum, “The Lord be with you.” My master’s voice: trademark of Victor Record Company, whose logo

features a listening dog. U. P.: postcard to Breen; see 151. House of Keys: Bloom’s advertising slogan; see 16. Dignam’s dead and gone below: after the children’s game, “Old Roger Is Dead,” in which one child lies flat while the others sing.

449 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 623

G 15:1280

Follow me up to Carlow: song by Patrick J. McCall about Feagh MacHugh O’Byrne (1544–97), who fought off English soldiers at Glenmalure in County Wicklow and made successful raids into Dublin, Carlow, and Kildare. daredevil salmon leap: Salmon Leap, waterfall on the Liffey, west of Dublin; Cuchulain also makes a “salmon-leap” in the Irish epic, Táin Bó Cúalnge (The Cattle Raid of Cooley). KISSES […] Yummyumm: possibly from the popular 1910 song “Under the

Yum Yum Tree” by Harry Von Tilzer (1872–1946). micky: Hiberno-English, penis. Zoe: Greek, “life.” Higgins: Bloom’s mother’s maiden name. Mrs Mack’s: Annie Mack, a Scottish widow who ran several highly successful brothels, including one at 85 Lower Tyrone Street, according to Thom’s. eighty-one, Mrs Cohen’s: Thom’s lists a Bella Cohen at 82 Lower Tyrone Street. Mother Slipperslapper: character in the nursery rhyme; see 84.

624 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

G 15:1300

G 15:1320

hard chancre: hard lesion, symptomatic of syphilis. shrivelled potato: Bloom’s mother’s potato.

“Circe” · 450

451 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 625

G 15:1340

I never loved […] it was sure to […]: Lewis Carroll’s (1832–98) “Tema con Variazione” (1883) parody of Thomas Moore’s Lalla Rookh (1817); see 422. womancity: after Blake’s description of Jerusalem as “a City yet a Woman,” in The Four Zoas (lines 16–20). odalisk: female slave in a harem. swinefat: in violation of the Jewish dietary law against pork. Schorach ani

wenowwach, benoith Hierushaloim: Hebrew, “I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem,” from the Song of Solomon (1:5). sepulchre of the gold of kings and their mouldering bones: in this context, the tombs of the ancient kings of Israel in the “City of David,” in Jerusalem. swaggerroot: combination of cigarette and cheroot, a small Indian cigar.

626 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 452

G 15:1360

G 15:1380

black gansy: guernsey, thick, woolen sweater, traditionally worn by seamen. Sir Walter Raleigh […] potato and that weed: Raleigh (1552–1618) introduced tobacco to Europe; potatoes were brought later by the Spanish. killer of pestilence by absorption: belief that a potato will cure rheumatism; see 404. Turn again, Leopold! Lord mayor of Dublin: from pantomime by Samuel French based on the story that, when poor and young, Sir Richard Whittingdon, Lord Mayor of London, heard the bells call thus to him. alderman’s: elected representative of a city municipality. Arran Quay, Inns Quay […]

North Dock: five political wards along the north bank of the Liffey. Cui bono?: Latin, “To whose benefit?” Vanderdeckens in their phantom ship of finance: in Frederick Marryat’s novel The Phantom Ship (1839), Vanderdecken is the captain of the Flying Dutchman, a legendary ghost ship and a harbinger of doom; Vanderdecken also suggests “Commodore” Cornelius Vanderbilt (1794–1877), American financier and robber baron. Timothy Harrington, late thrice Lord Mayor of Dublin: (1851–1910), Irish politician and patriot. locum tenens: Latin, “holding the place,” deputy.

453 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 627

G 15:1400

Cow Parlour: small lane of tenements in southwest 1904 Dublin. upholstered poop: perhaps after Antony and Cleopatra (ii.iii.196–7). But their reign is […] and ever and ev […]: after Revelations 11:15, part of the text of the Hallelujah Chorus of Handel’s Messiah, “and he shall reign for ever and ever.” Venetian masts: ribboned poles for festive occasions. Cead Mile Failte: Irish, “A Hundred Thousand Welcomes.” Mah Ttob Melek Israel: Hebrew, “How goodly is your king, Israel”; combination of Numbers 24:5 and Samuel 6:20. the royal Dublin fusiliers

[…] Welsh Fusiliers: the Royal Dublin Fusiliers, the King’s Own Scottish Borderers, the Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders, and the Royal Welsh Fusiliers. pillar of the cloud: see 137. the Kol Nidre: Hebrew, “All our vows,” prayer on the Eve of Yom Kippur. imperial eagles: emblems of the Roman and Napoleonic empires. Athlone Poursuivant and Ulster King of Arms: junior officer and chief official in the College of Arms, the official heraldic authority for England, Wales, Northern Ireland and much of the Commonwealth.

628 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 454

G 15:1420

G 15:1440

twentyeight Irish representative peers: elected to the House of Lords in London by the Peers of Ireland after the Act of Union. sirdars: Indian military chiefs. grandees: Spanish or Portuguese aristocrats. cloth of estate: canopy over or behind a throne. chief rabbi: office not created until 1918. presbyterian moderator: leader of the Irish Presbyterian Church. anabaptist: no such sect existed in Ireland in 1904. trainbands: trained companies of citizen soldiery. tabinet: cloth of silk and wool. factors: business

agents. gentlemen of the bedchamber: king’s honorary attendants. Black Rod: official in the House of Lords. Deputy Garter: executive officer of the highest order of knighthood. Gold Stick: ceremonial office. master of horse: responsible for the sovereign’s horses. lord great chamberlain: governs the Palace of Westminster. the earl marshal: President of the English College of Heralds. high constable carrying […]: commander in chief of the army and navy. saint Stephen’s iron crown: Arthur Griffith mistakenly wrote in The Resurrection of

Hungary (1904) that St Stephen (975–1038), the first king of Hungary, wore an iron crown. chalice and bible: symbols of the English sovereign’s role as “Defender of the Faith.” sennet: call that signals a ceremonial entrance. Saint Edward’s staff: used in coronations. orb and sceptre with the dove: coronation regalia. the curtana: blunted sword carried in the coronation. hawthorn: device of Henry VII. wrenbushes: holly or gorse carried by “wren boys” on St Stephen’s Day. The wren, the wren […]: the wren boys’ chant.

455 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 629

G 15:1460

G 15:1480

PAVIOR and FLAGGER: layer of paving stones and flagstones. A sunburst appears in the northwest: see 55. dalmatic: loose robe worn by sovereigns at coronation. shovel hat: low-crowned hat with wide

brim curved at the sides, worn by some ecclesiastics. Will you to your power […] thereunto belonging?: amalgam of elements of the English sovereign’s oath on coronation.

630 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 456

G 15:1500

his right hand on his testicles, swears: form of oathtaking in Genesis 24:2–3 and in Roman Law. All this I promise to do: sovereign’s promise to preserve the Church of England. Pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom’s head: parody of coronation ceremony. Gaudium […] Habemus carneficem: Latin, “A great joy I announce to you. We have an executioner,” after the formula used to announce a new pope, substituting carneficem for pontificem. mantle of cloth […] ruby ring: elements of the coronation ceremony. stone of destiny: Stone of Scone, Westminster Cathedral. Christ church, Saint Patrick’s: Dublin’s

two great medieval cathedrals. I do become […] earthly worship: opening sentence of the Oath of Fealty made by the peers after the coronation. Kohi-Noor diamond: 102 carat crown jewel. Wireless intercontinental and interplanetary transmitters: transatlantic transmissions were still unreliable in 1904. nominate our faithful […]: Roman Emperor Caligula (12–41 ce, emperor 37–41 ce) made his horse a priest and a consul. Copula Felix: Latin, “Happy union.” Grand Vizier: highest official. Selene: Greek goddess of the moon. morganatic: spouse without entitlements.

457 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 631

G 15:1520

for thier read their

G 15:1540

green socks: Parnell had an aversion to green. On this day […] enemy at Ladysmith: the British defeated the Dutch at Ladysmith in 1900; in 1884, English general Charles George Gordon (1833–85) lost Khartoum to the Mahdi, a Muslim coalition. Half a league onward!: from Tennyson’s 1854 “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” which memorializes a disastrous cavalry charge during the Crimean War. All is lost now!: from La Sonnambula; see 261. Plevna: see 54. Sabaoth: Greek form of tseboath, Hebrew, “armies,” from Yahweh-tseboath, “Lord God of Hosts,” Romans 9:29 and James 5:4. CHAPEL: printer’s

workshop or union. BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: the Dublin Blue Coat School, or King’s Hospital, combined medical facilities with classrooms. the golden city: after the hymn “Jerusalem the Golden.” new Bloomusalem: combination of the Christian utopia of Revelations and the Zionist goal of a Jewish homeland. Nova Hibernia: Latin, “New Ireland.” Thirtytwo workmen […] the counties of Ireland: in The Resurrection of Hungary, Arthur Griffith records that “fifty-two working men from all the counties of Hungary” cheered Emperor Francis Joseph to celebrate independence.

632 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 458

G 15:1560

for prvileged read privileged

G 15:1580

Morituri te salutant: Latin, “They who are about to die salute you,” said by Roman gladiators to the emperor before fighting. Leopold M’lntosh, the notorious fireraiser: John M’Intosh was hanged for treason for manufacturing gunpowder for Robert Emmet. with his sceptre strikes down poppies: with this gesture the Roman tyrant-king Lucius Tarquinius Superbus (c.534– 510 bce) reputedly ordered the killings of the leaders of the town of Gabii. Maundy money: silver coins minted for the sovereign to distribute to the poor on Maundy

Thursday, before Good Friday. commemoration medals: cast for English state occasions. loaves and fishes: see 384. billets doux: French, “love letters.” toad in the hole: meat baked or fried in batter. Jeyes’ fluid: disinfectant. purchase stamps: issued by retailers to their customers. 40 days’ indulgences: offering a reduction of punishment in purgatory. the royal and privileged Hungarian lottery: see 149. the World’s Twelve Worst Books: fictitious titles, apart from, possibly, J. P. Crozer Griffith (1856–1941), The Care of the Baby (1895).

459 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 633

G 15:1600 for playes read plays

Women press forward […] of Bloom’s robe: a woman is cured by touching Jesus’s hem in Matthew 9:20–22. Little father!: Russian peasant epithet for the czar or a male authority figure. BABES AND SUCKLINGS: Jesus uses this phrase to defend the children who celebrate him as the Son of David, Matthew 21:15–16. Clap clap hands till Poldy comes home: variation on the nursery rhyme. My more than Brother!: after Tennyson’s In Memoriam (1850). pussy fourcorners: children’s game where a fifth child tries to secure

a corner. Peep! Bopeep!: peekaboo, named after the nursery rhyme: “Little Bo-Peep.” Ticktacktwo wouldyousetashoe?: from Mother Goose’s Melody (c.1785) by Isaiah Thomas. haudherchiefs: handkerchiefs (G, correction). Roygbiv: mnemonic for the rainbow; see 359. 32 feet per second: incomplete statement of rate of acceleration of falling bodies; see 69. Absence makes the heart grow younger: after the proverb “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Maurice Butterly: magistrate, Court Duff House, Blanchardstown.

634 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 460

G 15:1620

G 15:1640

The ram’s horns: the shofar, Israelite battle and ceremonial trumpet. Aleph Beth Ghimel Daleth: first four letters of the Hebrew alphabet. Hagadah: see 118. Tephilim: box containing four texts of Scripture, worn by Jews during morning prayers. Hanukah: feast celebrating the rededication of the Temple in 165 bce. Roschaschana: Jewish New Year. Beni Brith: B’nai B’rith, Hebrew, “Sons of the Covenant,” a Jewish fraternity founded in 1843. Mazzoth: see 78. Askenazim: descendants of Ashkenaz, great-grandson of Noah, Genesis 10:3; the medieval rabbinical name

for Germany and, later, for the Jews of middle and northern Europe. Talith: fringed prayer shawl. Court of Conscience: small claims court and, figuratively, moral tribunal. Can I raise a mortgage on my fire insurance?: not permitted in English law. the law of torts […] of five pounds: mishmash of terms from civil and criminal law. A Daniel did I say?: Shylock and Gratiano praise the disguised Portia as a Daniel for her legal arguments in The Merchant of Venice (iv.i), after Daniel in the History of Susanna in the Apocrypha.

461 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 635

G 15:1660

Acid. nit. hydrochlor […] ter in die: Latin, chemist’s abbreviations for nitric and hydrochloric acid (used for digestive issues); tincture of nux vomica (a stimulant and emetic); extract of taraxaci ligni or dandelion root (a laxative); taken in distilled water three times a day; a minim is a tiny particle or drop. What is the parallax of the subsolar ecliptic of Aldebaran?: what is the apparent shift in position, due to the Earth’s movement,

of the brightest star in the constellation of Taurus? K. 11.: Bloom offers (an incorrect version of) Aldebaran’s stellar spectral class. When my progenitor […] despot in a dark prison: unique reference to Rudolph Virag’s resistance to Franz Joseph. Father […] starts thinking: after the notion that twins have two fathers. eight day licence: an impossibility.

636 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 462

G 15:1680

G 15:1700

our own house of keys: the symbol of the Manx Parliament and here, Home Rule, the restoration of a parliament in Dublin; see 116. Three acres and a cow: catchphrase for land reform coined in 1886 by MP Jesse Collings (1831–1920). esperanto the universal language with universal

brotherhood (G, inclusion). dropsical: build-up of fluid now known as oedema. Free money, free rent, free love and (G, inclusion). mixed bathing: considered improper in 1904. Kildare Street museum: the National Museum; see 168.

463 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 637

G 15:1720

Callipyge: Kallipyge, “of the beautiful buttocks”; see 192. Pandemos: “of everyone”; see 404. new nine muses: the original Greek muses were Calliope (epic poetry), Clio (history), Erato (erotic poetry), Euterpe (lyric poetry or flutes), Melpomene (tragedy), Polyhymnia (sacred song), Terpsichore (dance), Thalia (comedy and pastoral poetry), and Urania (astronomy). Plural Voting: the right to vote in more than one

constituency. anythingarian: person of no fixed views. One of the old sweet songs: after “Love’s Old Sweet Song”; see 61. I vowed that […] tooraloom: see 68. Stage Irishman!: music-hall and comedic stereotype characterized by drinking, wit, prodigality, and sentimentality. The Rows of Casteele: pun on The Rose of Castile; see 126.

638 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 464

G 15:1740

G 15:1760

Nelson’s Pillar: see 92. this stinking goat of Mendes: goat at the center of a cult in the ancient Egyptian city. cities of the plain: Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, Zeboiim, and Bela, Genesis 14:2. white bull mentioned in the Apocalypse: Revelations mentions no white bull, although the Evangelist Luke is a mystic

beast “like a calf” (4:6). Scarlet Woman: the Whore of Babylon in Revelations 17:3–5; a derogatory Protestant term for the Roman Catholic church. Caliban: Prospero’s slave in Shakespeare’s Tempest; see 6. Mr. Fox!: one of Parnell’s aliases in correspondence with Kitty O’Shea.

465 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 639

G 15:1780

This is midsummer madness: Twelfth Night (iii. iv.62). guiltless as the unsunned snow: Posthumus’s description of his wife’s innocence, Cymbeline (ii.v.12– 13). 2 Dolphin’s Barn: Daniel Whelan, victualler. Slander, the viper: Cymbeline (iii.iv.34–41). sgenl inn ban bata coisde gan capall: sgeul i mbarr bata coisde gan capall (G, correction); garbled Irish, “A tale at the end of a stick is a horseless coach.” Dr Eustace’s private asylum: Highfield, Glasnevin. elephantiasis: disease of the skin. Ambidexterity: thought to be a sign of untrustworthiness. prematurely bald from selfabuse: notion regarding masturbation. more sinned

against than sinning: King Lear (iii.ii.60). virgo intacta: medical Latin, “a virgin with hymen intact.” Hypsospadia: malformation of the male urethra. teratological museum: for biological abnormalities. albuminoid: suggesting failure of the kidneys to filter out the protein albumin. patellar reflex: kneejerk reflex. fetor judaicus: anti-Semitic notion; see 292. new womanly man: from Otto Weinenger’s Geschlecht und Charakter (Sex and Character) (1903), an anti-Semitic work associating Judaism with femininity; also after the “New Woman,” opposing conventional Victorian womanhood; comic, progressive androgyny.

640 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 466

G 15:1800

G 15:1820

the Reformed Priests’ Protection Society: supported priests who “abandon the Church of Rome for the pure faith of the Gospel,” offices at 13 D’Olier Street in Dublin. hairshirt of pure Irish manufacture winter and summer (G, inclusion). Glencree reformatory: St Kevin’s Reformatory; see 148. Nasodoro: Italian, “Nose of gold.” Chrysostomos: Greek, “Golden Mouthed”; see 3. Maindorée: French,

“Hand of gold.” Silberselber: German, “Silverself.” Vifargent: French, “Quicksilver.” Panargyros: Greek, “Allsilver.” Messiah ben Joseph or ben David: in Jewish folklore, the true Messiah is a descendant of the House of David but is preceded by the Messiah ben Joseph, who will gather the Israelites but be slain by the enemies of Israel.

467 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 641

G 15:1840

G 15:1860

perform a miracle like Father Charles. BANTAM (G, inclusion). You have said it: Jesus’s response when Pilate asks if he is the King of the Jews, Luke 23:3. BUZZ: (slang) pickpocket. the Saint Leger: annual horse race at Doncaster, England. king’s evil: scrofula, cured by the king’s touch. Lord Beaconsfield: Benjamin Disraeli (1804–81), English novelist and statesman; British prime minister 1868 and 1874–80. Wat Tyler: (d.1381) leader of the English Peasant Revolt of 1381. Henry Irving: (1838–1905) English actor and director. Kossuth: Lajos (Louis) Kossuth (1802–94), Hungarian revolutionary. bids

the tide turn back: reputedly attempted by Canute (c.995–1035), king of England, Norway, Denmark. Leopoldi autem generatio: after Matthew 1:18, Christi autem generatio sic erat, Latin, “Christ was generated thus.” Moses […] Emmanuel: nonsense genealogy, after Matthew 1:1–16, Genesis 5. Guggenheim: Meyer Guggenheim (1828–1905), Jewish financier and philanthropist. Le Hirsch: Baron Maurice de Hirsch (1831–96), Austrian Jewish financier and philanthropist. Jesurum: distortion of Jesum, Jesus. Smerdoz: Smerdis (d.523 bce), brother of King Cambyses of Persia. Weiss begat Schwarz:

German, “White begat Black.” Adrianopoli: Adrianople, Turkey. Aranjuez: city south of Madrid. Ichabudonosor: possibly a combination of Ichabod and Nebuchadnezzar from Samuel 4 and Kings 24. O’Donnell Magnus: Red Hugh, the Great O’Donnell. Christbaum: German, “Christmas tree.” ben Maimun: Hebrew, possibly “House of Maimonides.” Benamor: macaronic, “Son of Love.” Jasperstone: high priest’s breastplate, Exodus 28:17–21. Vingtetunieme: French, “twenty-first.” et vocabitur nomen eius Emmanuel: Latin, “and shall call his name Immanuel,” Isaiah 7:14.

642 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 468

G 15:1880

A DEADHAND: mortmain, land held permanently by ecclesiastical authority; a hand writes Belshazzar’s doom on a wall, Daniel 5:26–28. cod: joker, fool. bushranger’s: nineteenth-century bandits in the bush country of Australia. cattlecreep: enclosure for feeding animals. Kilbarrack: suburb north of Dublin. Ballybough bridge: in Fairview on the northeastern outskirts of Dublin. HOLLYBUSH: Stephen’s answer to his nonsense riddle; see 27. the devil’s glen: wooded area, County Wicklow. from frons to nates: from forehead to buttocks. IRISH EVICTED TENANTS: Parnell represented evicted tenants but

was later accused of withholding funds raised for them. Sjambok: South African, cattle whip. with asses’ ears: in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Apollo’s revenge on King Midas for preferring Pan’s music. Don Giovanni, a cenar teco: see 171. If you see kay […] Tell him from me: acrostic, whose first and third lines spell obscenities. HORNBLOWER: Trinity gate-porter; see 83. ephod: ornamented sleeveless Jewish priestly garment. Azazel: Hebrew, “dismissal,” mistakenly translated as “scapegoat” in Leviticus 16:8. Lilith: Adam’s first wife; see 372.

469 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 643

G 15:1900

G 15:1920

Mizraim, the land of Ham: two Old Testament terms for Egypt. bonafide travellers: entitled to longer hours of service; see 403. Belial: Hebrew, “worthless,” Deuteronomy 13:13; “Belial” is a name for Satan, 2 Corinthians 6:15. Laemlein of Istria: Asher Laemlein preached the coming of the Messiah in 1500 in Istria, near Venice. Abulafia! Recant (George (G, inclusion): Abraham Ben Samuel Abulafia (1240– c.1291), a Spanish Jew claiming to be the Messiah

who journeyed to Rome. tailor’s goose: clothing iron. squeak: (slang) information leaked to the police. split: (slang) police spy, informer. flatties: (slang) policemen. Nip: (slang) steal, catch. rattler: (slang) horse-drawn cab. a yellow habit with embroidery […] pointed hat: medieval costume for a heretic. hands him over to the civil power: heretics were eventually tried by civil courts. Forgive him his trespasses: after the Lord’s Prayer.

644 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 470

G 15:1940

G 15:1960 for dsuty read dusty

seamless garment: Jesus’s garment at his crucifixion, John 19:23. I. H. S.: see 78. Weep not for me, O daughters of Erin: after Jesus, bearing his cross towards Calvary, “Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children,” Luke 23:27–28. Kidney of Bloom […] pray for us: after Catholic Litanies with refrains such as “Heart of Jesus ... have mercy on us” or “Holy Mary, pray for us.” Sweets of Sin: see 226. Music without Words: see 274. Vincent O’Brien: (1870–1948) conductor of

the Palestrina Choir at the Metropolitan Procathedral in Dublin. in caubeen with clay […] smile in his eye: dressed as a stage Irishman; caubeen, old hat; sugain, rope made of straw; Thomas Moore’s poem “Erin! the Tear and the Smile in Thine Eyes.” Let me be going […] mother of a bating: “bating” is a phonetic representation of “beating,” said in a strong Irish accent; possibly after Synge’s Playboy of the Western World (1907). aconite: potentially poisonous sedative; used by Bloom’s father.

471 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 645

G 15:1980

G 15:2000

A cork and bottle. I’m sick of it. Let everything rip. ZOE (G, inclusion). Hog’s Norton where the pigs plays the organs: expression for a rough place; Hog’s Norton in Leicestershire had an organist named Piggs. Tommy Tittlemouse: from the nursery rhyme “Little Tommy Tittlemouse.” houri:

immortal virgin companion in Muslim Paradise. The greeneyed monster: jealousy, Othello (iii.iii.65–67). Laughing witch!: from Matcham’s Masterstroke; see 66. The hand that rocks the cradle: “The Hand that Rocks the Cradle Is the Hand that Rules the World,” by William Ross Wallace; see 276.

646 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 472

G 15:2020

passtouch of secret monitor: sign given by a specific masonic master appointed to advise in trades and bargains; a touch with one finger means proceed. Hot hands, cold gizzard: after the proverbial saying “Cold hands, warm heart.” ramping: rearing. their drugged heads: in the Odyssey, Circe drugs men and turns them

into animals. Don’t fall upstairs: superstition that to fall upstairs foretells a wedding. The just man falls seven times: “For a just man falleth seven times, and riseth up again: but the wicked shall fall into mischief,” Proverbs 24:16.

473 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 647

G 15:2040

G 15:2060

morris: English choreographed group dance. Kitty Ricketts: based on Becky Cooper, “probably the best

known among Dublin prostitutes from the beginning of the century until the ’twenties” (JJ 368).

648 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 474

G 15:2080

empty fifths: two notes five degrees apart, without the middle third note that would make the chord major or minor. whether Benedetto Marcello found it or made it: (1686–1739) Italian composer writes of searching for “ancient Hebrew” melodies for Estro poetico-armonico (1724–27), his setting of Girolamo Giustiniani’s Italian paraphrases of the first fifty psalms (1724–26). an old hymn to Demeter: Marcello used an ancient Greek melody from the Homeric hymn to Demeter (Ceres in Latin). Cæla enarrant gloriam Domini: Latin, “The heavens declare the glory of the Lord,” Psalm 19 (Vulgate 18); Stephen substitutes

Domini for Dei (of God). nodes: in music, a free or stable point on a vibrating body. hyperphrygian and mixolydian: two of the seven modes in the Greek musical system, associated by Aristotle with gentleness and Bacchic frenzy, respectively. tip from the stable: inside information. Mais, nom de nom: French, euphemism for “In the name of God.” Jetez la gourme. Faut que jeunesse se passe: French, “Sow your wild oats. Youth must pass.” knowledge bump: phrenological notion. Jewgreek is greekjew: confounding of Arnold’s opposing cultural tendencies; see 7.

475 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 649

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G 15:2120

Whetstone!: in his memoir, Stanislaus Joyce wrote that his brother used him as such. fundamental and dominant: the interval between the fundamental (lowest) note of a chord and the dominant (fifth) note is the greatest perfect interval of a chord (Stephen says “possible”). The Holy City: 1892 hymn by the English songwriter Frederic Weatherly (1848–1929),

music by Stephen Adams. having itself traversed […] preconditioned to become: Maeterlinck’s concept of individual disposition as a prison; see 204. noise in the street: see Stephen’s definition of God, 34. Ecco!: Latin, “Behold!” used to underline a conclusion in medieval Scholastic argument.

650 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

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G 15:2140

G 15:2160

Antichrist: the personification of evil, whom Christ will defeat at the end of time, 1 John 2:18, 22. Sea serpent in the royal canal: the Antichrist is a “great dragon” and an “old serpent” in Revelations 12:9. A time, times and half a time: from Revelations 12:13–14. wandering jew: see 34. hydrocephalic: condition of excess fluid in the skull. prognathic: with

a projecting jaw. Ally Sloper nose: red and swollen nose of a cartoon character in a penny weekly of the same name. ll vient […] primigène: French, “Here he comes! It’s me. The man who laughs! The primordial man!” after Victor Hugo’s (1802–85) novel L’Homme qui rit (1869), whose protagonist’s mutilated face appears to grin.

477 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 651

G 15:2180

Sieurs et dames, faites vos jeux!: French, “Gentlemen and ladies, place your bets!” Les jeux sont faits!: French, “The bets are made!” Rien n’va plus: French, “Nothing more,” no more bets. Jerusalem! [...] sing Hosanna: from “The Holy City.” from zenith to nadir the End of the World: after Blake’s apocalypse, in Milton (lines 152–54). twoheaded octopus: from A. E.’s cryptic sentence; see 157. busby: tall fur hat with colored flap on the side. filibegs: kilt. the Three Legs of Man: symbol associated with the sea-god Mananaan MacLir, the

Isle of Man, and Sicily. Wha’ll dance […] the keel row?: from the Scottish song, “Smiling Polly, or The Keel Row.” vergerfaced: verger, a church caretaker and attendant. old glory: the US national flag. Creole Sue: 1898 American popular song by Gussie L. Davis. trunk line: main line of a railroad, telephone system, or other network. God’s time: American slang for local municipal time, as opposed to the standardized time introduced in the 1880s. Tell mother you’ll be there: after the 1890 song “Tell Mother I’ll Be There,” by Charles Fillmore.

652 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 478

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G 15:2220

the second advent: the second coming of Christ. Coney Island: popular seaside resort in Brooklyn, New York City. Be on the side of the angels: Benjamin Disraeli’s appeal against Darwin’s 1859 theory of evolution. Be a prism: possibly an allusion to Disraeli’s figure for individual bias, “the coloured prism of his own atmosphere.” Gautama: Gautama Buddha. Ingersoll: Robert Ingersoll (1833–99), American politician, lawyer, orator, and well-known evangelical

agnostic; author of Why I Am an Agnostic (1896). vibration: the sensation of divine force, according to Theosophy. nobble: (English slang) catch, seize. Seventyseven west sixtyninth street: fictional address. Bumboosers: (slang) desperate drinkers. Jeru […] Whorusalim […] highhohhhh: distortion of “The Holy City.” black in the face: Gifford suggests that Dowie has transformed into Eugene Stratton. twig: (slang) understand.

479 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 653

G 15:2240

Constitution hill: tenement area in north-central Dublin. confirmed by the bishop and enrolled in the brown scapular. My mother’s (G, inclusion). Montmorency: noble and fashionable Anglo-Irish family. Hennessy’s three stars: expensive French Cognac, founded by Irish Wild Goose Richard Hennessy in 1765. In the beginning was the word: John 1:1. world without end: conclusion of the Lord’s Prayer. Blessed be the eight beatitudes: Jesus named

eight blessed kinds of people in the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 5:3–11. barnum: Phineas Taylor Barnum (1810–91), American showman, founder in 1871 of a highly popular circus, “The Greatest Show on Earth.” Seek thou the light: Quaker term for connection with the inner experience of God’s truth. He corantos by: see 176. Nankeen: originally fabric made of yellow cotton.

654 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 480

G 15:2260

G 15:2280

Tanderagee: market town near Lough Neagh in County Armagh. ollave: from Old Irish, “sage, scholar.” Mananaun MacLir: Irish god of the sea, character in A. E.’s play Deirdre; see 38. Aum! Hek! Wal! Ak! Lub! Mor! Ma!: A. E. argued that the primary sounds of human speech have mystical significance in The Candle of Vision (1918). yoghin: Blavatsky’s term for a practitioner of yoga. Occult pimander: Poimandres, a book named after a revelatory higher being, attributed to Hermes Trismegistos. Punarjanam patsypunjaub: parody of Theosophical terms, combining Sanskrit,

punarjanmam, “rebirth,” (slang) patsy, Irishman, and geography, “Punjab.” beware the left, the cult of Shakti: in the Hindu religion, the female generative power Shakti is associated with the left side. Shiva! Dark hidden Father: Shakti’s spouse Shiva, the destructive and regenerative power. the homestead […] dreamery creamery butter: combines A. E.’s Irish Homestead, with products of the agricultural cooperative societies he supported, and Jesus’s declaration: “I am the light of the world,” John 8:12. nixie’s green: German water sprite with the tail of a fish.

481 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 655

G 15:2300

G 15:2320

Lipoti Virag: “Leopold” Virag, Bloom’s grandfather. basilicogrammate: compound of ancient Greek, “royal secretary.” an Egyptian pshent: white and red double crown of ancient Egypt. Szombathely:

Hungarian birthplace of Bloom’s father, Rudolph Virag. Granpapachi: Yiddish, “grandfather.” gopherwood: timber used for Noah’s ark, Genesis 6:14.

656 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 482

G 15:2340

for mlld read mild for caould read could

G 15:2360

Never put on you tomorrow what you can wear today: after the proverb “Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.” Parallax!: see 147. Did you hear my brain go snap?: frequent question of the spiritualist medium Mrs Leonora Piper Stuart on emerging from a trance. Lily of the alley: combines the Song of Solomon (2:1), “I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys,” with the titles of popular songs. bachelor’s button discovered by Rualdus Columbus: the clitoris, which Matteo Realdo Colombo claimed

to have discovered in De re anatomica (1559). Tumble: have sex with or overpower; see 183. What ho, she bumps!: 1899 music-hall song by Harry Castling and A. J. Mills. The ugly duckling: story by Hans Christian Andersen (1805–75). longcasted: long-legged. keel: Scottish dialect, “posterior.” When you come out without your gun: after the catchphrase “What things you see when you come out without your gun.” How happy caould you be with either: after John Gay’s (1685–1732) The Beggar’s Opera (1728) (ii.13).

483 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 657

G 15:2380

When coopfattened […] elephantine size: pâté de foie gras; see 167. fennygreek and gumbenjamin: fenugreek and gum bezoin. Fleshhotpots of Egypt: see 41. Lycopodium: from Greek “wolf’s foot,” medicinal herb. Slapbang! There he goes again: after the 1866 music-hall song, “Slap Bang! Here We Are Again” by Sheridan. Contact with a goldring: folk cure for a skin growth. Argumentum ad feminam: Latin, “Argument against the woman,” after the fallacy of argumentum ad hominem, arguing not against a claim but against the

person making it. Diplodocus and Ichthyosaurus: herbivorous dinosaur and extinct marine reptile. sovereign remedy: panacea. mnemotechnic: art of memory. La causa è santa. Tara. Tara: see 160. Rosemary: “for remembrance” according to Ophelia, Hamlet (iv.v.174). The touch of a deadhand: folk cure for warts and blemishes. melancholy of muriatic: hydrochloric acid. priapic pulsatilla: oil of the pasqueflower, Anemone pulsatilla, was believed to be an aphrodisiac.

658 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 484

G 15:2400 for 1882 read 1886

G 15:2420

the Bulgar and the Basque: their traditional women’s costumes featured trousers under skirts or coats. to square the circle and win that million: receive a reward for geometrically constructing a square with the same area as a circle; proved impossible by the German mathematician Ferdinand Lindemann in 1882. From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step: reputedly said by Napoleon following his defeat in Russia in 1812. in a pig’s whisper: in a very short time. pudendal

verve: pudendal nerve (G, correction). the year five thousand five hundred and fifty of our era: 1789 in the Jewish calendar. One tablespoonful of honey […] malt vinegar: saying attributed to Benjamin Franklin (1706–90). their complex unadjustable eye: the reason why many night insects fly into light. Chase me, Charley! (he blows into Bloom’s ear) Buzz! (G, inclusion); from “Chase me, girls!” an Edwardian catchphrase.

485 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 659

G 15:2440

G 15:2460

Spanish fly: a medicinal or aphrodisiac ointment made from cantharides beetles. dibble: (slang) penis. Bubbly jock: Scottish dialect, “a bird’s gobbling noise.” Open Sesame!: Ali Baba’s command to open the cave of treasures in the Arabian Nights. Redbank oysters: see 166. truffles of Perigord: another aphrodisiac. Jocular. With my eyeglass in my ocular. (he sneezes) Amen! BLOOM (G, inclusion); line from 1881 operetta Patience by Gilbert and Sullivan. Eve and

the serpent contradict: Bloom’s idea that Eve does not fear the serpent in Genesis; however, the serpent is made to crawl by God in punishment for tempting her. Elephantuliasis: combination of the Greek erotic writer Elephantis and elephantiasis. Who’s Ger Ger?: Who’s moth moth? (G, correction). He doth rest anon. (he snaps his jaws suddenly on the air) THE MOTH (G, inclusion).

660 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 486

G 15:2480

G 15:2500

There is a flower that bloometh: from the opera Maritana; see 243. Filling my belly […] and go to my: the prodigal son, who spends his inheritance and

returns, impoverished, to his father, Luke 15:13–32. a parlous way: a perilous state; from As You Like It (iii.ii.45).

487 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 661

G 15:2520

Ci rifletta. Lei rovina tutto: Italian, “Think it over. You ruin everything.” Love’s old sweet song: see 61. The bird that can sing and won’t sing: proverb, ending “must be made to sing.” Philip Drunk and Philip Sober: after the legend of a woman appealing again to Philip of Macedon, in another mood. if youth but knew: see 30. Mooney’s en ville: see 252. the Moira: Moira House and Tavern, on the corner of Trinity Street and Dame Lane. Larchet’s: Larchet’s Hotel and Restaurant, 11 College Green, just east

of Moira House. Burke’s: public house, 17 Holles Street. octaves: reduplicate a scale of note intervals at a different pitch. Zoe mou sas agapo: Greek, “My Zoe, I love you,” or “My life, I love you”; epigraph and refrain of Byron’s 1810 poem “Maid of Athens, Ere We Part.” Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak: after Jesus’s criticism of his disciples who sleep while he prays in the garden of Gethsemane, Matthew 26:40–41. Maynooth: Royal College of St Patrick, founded 1795 for the education and training of priests.

662 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 488

G 15:2540

G 15:2560

Nothing new under the sun: Ecclesiastes 1:9. Why I left the church of Rome: pamphlet by Rev. Charles Pascal Telesphore Chiniquy (see 172), who also wrote a book titled the Priest, the Woman and the Confessional (1874) in which he claimed that the experience of confession corrupted women. Flipperty Jippert: fiend; from King Lear (iii.iv.20).

pudor: modesty, bashfulness. yoni to man’s lingam: Sanskrit, “vagina to man’s penis.” Coactus volui: Latin, “under compulsion, I was willing”; see 240. spucks: after German, spits. yadgana: Sanskrit, “buttocks.” a penance. Nine glorias: punishment of reciting Gloria Patri, the Lord’s Prayer, nine times.

489 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 663

G 15:2580

mooncalf: monstrous birth. nozzle: nose, muzzle. Verfluchte Goim!: Yiddish, “Cursed Gentiles.” He had a father, forty fathers: in Flaubert’s The Temptation of Saint Anthony, heresiarchs dispute the nature and origin of Jesus. Pig God!: after the Italian curse, Porco Dio. two left feet: expression for clumsiness; sign of the Devil; the Christ Child as pictured in the Book of Kells. Judas Iacchias: Judas Iscariot was the central figure in an alternative gospel by the Cainite Gnostics; Iacchus, Greek deity associated with the Eleusinian mysteries, sometimes identified with Bacchus. Lybian eunuch: perhaps a Libicum eunuch; see 384. son of a

whore. Apocalypse: the Antichrist, son of the Whore of Babylon, as described in Revelation. Mary Shortall […] Jimmy Pidgeon: travesty of Mary’s conception through the Holy Spirit. the lock: Westmoreland National Lock (Government) Hospital for the Relief of Destitute Females, Townsend Street. blue caps: Royal Dublin Fusiliers. Qui vous […] le sacré pigeon: French, “Who put you in this wretched condition, Philippe? It was the holy [or blasted] pigeon, Philippe”; see 41. Metchnikoff: Russian biologist Élie Metchnikoff (1845–1916). Locomotor ataxy: loss of coordination; symptom of syphilis.

664 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 490

for Agueschaken read Agueshaken G 15:2600

G 15:2620 for pluks read plucks

Three wise virgins: stay awake and keep their lamps lit for the master’s return in Jesus’s parable, Matthew 25:1–13; see 139. She sold lovephiltres […] the Roman centurion: Celsus’s alternative account of Jesus’s parentage in the True Discourse (c.180). fork: (slang) crotch. He burst her tympanum: travesty

of medieval Scholastic tradition that Mary was impregnated by the Word of God. When love absorbs my ardent soul: opening line of the duet “Love and War”; see 257. Ben Mac Chree: from Irish, mo chroí, “Ben, my love.” When first I saw […]: first line from Lionel’s aria “M’apparì”; see 262.

491 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 665

G 15:2640

Dreck!: Yiddish, “rubbish, muck.” his wild harp slung behind him: from Thomas Moore’s song “The Minstrel Boy.” K.11.: Kino’s advertisement; see 146. Dr Hy Franks: quack doctor; see 146. All is lost now: from La Sonnambula; see 261. Virag unscrews his head […] holds it under his arm: like the Provençal troubadour Bertran de Born (c.1140–c.1215) in Dante’s Inferno, Canto 28, who is punished for sowing discord. the fighting parson who founded the protestant error: Martin Luther

(1483–1546); “the fighting parson,” was also a nickname of William Gannaway Brownlow (1805–77), an American Methodist anti-secessionist journalist. Antisthenes, the dog sage: first “Cynic” philosopher (along with Diogenes of Sinope), after the Greek kynikos, “doglike,” due to his rejection of conventional values and his simple life. the last end of Arius […] in the closet: the heretic Arius died in the water closet; see 38. spoiled priest: seminarian who leaves before ordination as a priest.

666 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 492

G 15:2660

G 15:2680

Monks of the screw: also known as the Order of St Patrick, an eighteenth-century hedonistic social club of Irish lawyers, statesmen, and intellectuals founded in 1783; subject of John Philpot Curran’s song “The Monks of the Screw.” soutane: buttoned gown worn under vestments in religious services by Roman Catholic priests. Conservio lies, captured

[…] upwards of three tons: verses recited by Joyce’s father. O, the poor little fellow […] duckloving drake: after the second verse of the Irish ballad, “Nell Flaherty’s Drake.” By the hoky fiddle: oath based on corruption of Jesus’s words hoc est corpus, “this is my body”; see 78. Easter kiss: gesture of peace in the Easter Sunday mass.

493 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 667

G 15:2700

Shall carry my heart […] heart to thee: fragment of unknown song sung by Simon Daedalus in Stephen

Hero. Fingers was made before forks: proverbial expression calling for informality.

668 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 494

G 15:2720

G 15:2740

bazaar: the Mirus Bazaar. the viceroy was there with his lady: see “Wandering Rocks.” gas: (slang) excitement, fun. Toft’s hobbyhorses: merry-goround at the Mirus Bazaar; the Toft family toured an amusement park. Svengali’s: villain who hypnotizes a young woman in George Du Maurier’s (1834–96) novel Trilby (1894). the sign of past master: Bloom makes signs associated with the master of a Masonic lodge; Napoleon was thought to have been inducted into the Freemasons on Malta. Aphrodisiac? Tansy and pennyroyal. But I bought it. Vanilla calms (G, inclusion); chocolate and vanilla are mild stimulants.

Red influences lupus: Danish physician Niels Finsen (1860–1904) used violet light to treat the auto-immune disease lupus. Eat and be merry for tomorrow: Ecclesiastes 8:15; see 163. Andrews: Andrews & Co., tea, coffee, wine, and spirit merchant, 19–22 Dame Street, Dublin. selvedge: the edge of a piece of fabric finished so as to prevent fraying or unraveling of the threads. Minnie Hauck in Carmen: Minnie Hauck (1852–1929), American dramatic soprano who toured in the lead role. keeper rings: to keep a more valuable ring on a finger.

495 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 669

G 15:2760

embonpoint: bosom; see 226. akimbo: arm position with hands on the hips and elbows pointing outward; also of legs when seated in a crosslegged position. Powerful being […] slumber which women love: Severin’s remark to Wanda, whom he has persuaded to dominate him, in Leopold von Sacher-Masoch’s

Venus in Furs. The scenes that follow feature some of the fetishes associated with masochism by Richard von Krafft-Ebing (1840–1902) in Psychopathia Sexualis (1886), including foot and clothing fetishes, crossdressing, and coprophilia.

670 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 496

G 15:2780

G 15:2800

a draught of thirtytwo feet […] of falling bodies: see 69; air draughts do not fall like bodies. king David and the Sunamite: the beautiful virgin “Abishag, a Shunamite” was wed to king David at the end of his life only to keep him warm, “the king knew her not,” 1 Kings 2:13–15. A dog’s spittle: Gifford suggests

that Bloom thinks his father died by contracting rabies in this way; however, a dog’s saliva is thought to have antiseptic properties. a prince’s liver and kidney: a prince’s. Liver and kidney (G, correction). Mocking is catch: after the proverb “Mocking is catching.” black knot: fast or hard knot.

497 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 671

G 15:2820

Kellett’s: David Kellett, general draper, milliner, etc., 19–21 South Great George’s Street. buskined: after a style of cross-laced boot associated with Athenian tragic actors but also worn by Greek and Roman hunters and soldiers, Byzantine emperors, and Roman Catholic bishops. Mansfield’s: Manfield & Sons, boot and shoemakers, 78–79 Grafton Street. my love’s young dream: after Thomas Moore’s song “Love’s Young

Dream.” Clyde Road: in the fashionable Pembroke Township, south of Dublin center. Handy Andy: the clumsy and unfortunate antihero of Samuel Lover’s 1842 novel. tache: archaic, clasp, fastener. Awaiting your further orders, we remain, gentlemen: Gifford suggests that this is the conventional ending for a business letter. basilisk: legendary reptile that can cause death with a look.

672 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 498

G 15:2840

G 15:2860

on all fours, grunting, snuffling, rooting: Circe transforms Odysseus’s men into animals, although Odysseus is protected by the charm given to him by Hermes. the attitude of most excellent master: in the Masonic ceremony to confirm a Most Excellent Master, the group kneels and repeatedly bows low. places his heel on her neck: trope of dominance in Venus in Furs. and grinds it in) Footstool! Feel

(G, inclusion). I promise never to disobey: words from a Masonic initiation rite but also recalling Severin’s promise to Wanda in Venus in Furs. tartar: rough, violent person; collective term for the peoples who fought under Genghis Khan. and break you in: after comment by Wanda’s lover Alexis, before whipping Severin. gym costume: stripped, after ancient Greek gymnos, “naked.”

499 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 673

G 15:2880

G 15:2900

bastinado: a blow with a stick, particularly on the feet. knout: a whip made of leather and wire, used in czarist Russia. I shall sit on your ottomansaddleback: ottoman saddleback (G, correction); fetish discussed by Krafft-Ebing in Psychopathia Sexualis. Matterson’s:

Matterson & Sons, merchants, 12 Hawkins Street. Licensed Victualler’s Gazette: weekly trade newspaper, published in London. turning turtle: capsizing, becoming overturned.

674 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 500

G 15:2920

Hold him down, girls, till I squat on him: in Venus in Furs, Wanda has three maidservants tie up Severin so that she can whip and yoke him. Keating Clay […] the Richmond asylum: Robert Keating Clay, Dublin

solicitor, was elected as vice chairman of the Richmond Asylum on June 16, 1904, according to the Evening Telegraph. Craig and Gardner: Craig, Gardner & Co., chartered accountants, 40–41 Dame Street.

501 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 675

G 15:2940

G 15:2960

a figged fist: obscene Italian gesture where the thumb is poked out between the first and second fingers. A cockhorse to Banbury cross: from the nursery rhyme, sometimes recited while a child sits on a hobby horse or an adult’s knee. Eclipse stakes: horse race on July 16, 1904 in Sandown Park, Isle of Wight. cockhorse: astride, in a position of arrogance or superiority. The

lady goes a pace […] gallop a gallop: after a nursery rhyme “This is the way the ladies ride.” sixteen three quarters: the price of Guinness Preference shares; see 500. blow hot and cold […] a thing under the yoke: Severin is accused of vacillation and is yoked to a plough by Wanda in Venus in Furs.

676 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 502

G 15:2980

G 15:3000

As they are now, so will you be: inverts how Bloom imagines the dead think of the living in “Hades”; see 109. coutille: close-woven canvas used for mattresses and corsets. Martha and Mary: the sisters of Lazarus;

see 76. charming soubrette: poster image of musichall performer Marie Kendall. only once: only twice (G, correction). Demimondaine: woman of uncertain sexual morals.

503 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 677

G 15:3020

Mr Philip Augustus Blockwell, M.P.: fictional. Signor Laci Daremo: after “La ci darem”; see 61. blueeyed Bert: after “blue-eyed boy,” someone treated with special favor. Henry Fleury: Henry Flower. Gordon Bennett fame: the automobile road race; see 94. Croesus: inordinately wealthy king of Lydia. wetbob: Eton slang, boy who plays water sports rather than rugby and cricket. Manorhamilton: village in County Leitrim, in northwest Ireland. Vice Versa: 1882 novel, subtitled A Lesson to Fathers, by Francis Anstey (Thomas Anstey Guthrie, 1856–1934); adapted for

the stage in 1883 by Edward Rose; Joyce acted in a production at Belvedere College in 1898. jinkleman: gentleman. ass of the Doran’s: after the ballad “Doran’s Ass,” in which Paddy Doyle confesses to his sweetheart that he drunkenly mistook Doran’s ass for her. the Black church: the dark-stoned St Mary’s Chapel of Ease, Mountjoy Street. Miss Dunn at an address in D’Olier street: possibly Advertising Company, Ltd, bill posters and advertising agents, 15 D’Olier Street. vitriol works: Dublin Vitriol Works Company, 17 Ballybough Road.

678 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 504

G 15:3040

G 15:3060

Poldy Kock: Paul de Kock. Cassidy’s hag: from the wine address at Lombard Street West. With this ring I thee and spirit merchant; see 59. Larry Rhinoceros: play on own: after the line in the Christian marriage service, Larry O’Rourke. Pleasants street: near Bloom’s old “With this ring I thee wed.”

505 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 679

G 15:3080

G 15:3100

Miss Ruby: in the novel, Ruby, the Pride of the Ring: see 62. Hanaper and Petty Bag office: two offices connected to the Court of Chancery. Two bar: (Dublin

slang) two shillings. Fourteen hands high: almost five feet high, in units for measuring horses.

680 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 506

G 15:3120

G 15:3140

Caliph Haroun Al Raschid: caliph of Baghdad; see 46. four inch Louis XV heels: high-heeled version of the curved, splayed heels introduced during Louis XV’s reign (1710–74; r. 1715–74). Grecian bend: a forwardleaning posture associated with a combination of corset, pannier, bustle, and heels popular in the 1860s.

Gomorrahan vices: the inhabitants of Gomorrah were destroyed by God for their sinfulness, Genesis 19, taken to involve sexual practices. Manx cat!: tailless cat from the Isle of Man. cockyolly: pet name for a bird. doing his pooly: urinating. muff: incompetent, foolish person; also (slang) vulva.

507 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 681

G 15:3160

in Sleepy Hollow your night of twenty years: Washington Irving’s “Rip Van Winkle” is awoken by a distant call after a twenty-year sleep and finds his wife

has died; “Sleepy Hollow” is another of Irving’s stories; see 360. wold: forest or rolling uplands. owl: dull, stupid person. simply swirling: from “Seaside Girls”; see 60.

682 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 508

G 15:3180

G 15:3200

Aunt Hegarty’s: Bloom’s mother’s maternal aunt. Sauce for the goose, my gander, O: see 268. Brusselette carpet: carpet with heavy woolen pile and strong linen backing. Wren’s auction: auction rooms, Bachelors Walk; see 96. the little statue: statue of Narcissus. art for art’s sake: slogan of nineteenth-century aesthetes. Hampton Leedom’s: Hampton, Leedom & Co., chandlers, hardware,

and china merchants, 50 Henry Street. Swear!: the Ghost’s repeated cry as Hamlet attempts to swear his companions to secrecy (I.v). secondbest bed: after the proverb, “You have made your bed and you must lie in it,” blended with the second-best bed Shakespeare left to his wife; see 195. Your epitaph is written: after Robert Emmet’s speech; see 278.

509 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 683

G 15:3220

I can give you […] to hell and back: Circe instructs Odysseus to go to the Underworld and offer wine to the dead so that they can advise him on his return home. Cuck: short for cuckold; also associated with defecation; see 66 and 204. I have sinned! I have suff […]: Bloom’s misunderstanding of I.H.S.; see 78. The passing bell: rung at a death to summon listeners to pray. the circumcised […] by the wailing wall: ten Jewish males make a minyan, a quorum for communal services and certain rituals; the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem is a central site of mourning. M.

Shulomowitz […] Leopold Abramowitz: listed in Thom’s as living in a small area around Clanbrassil Street Lower; Thom’s mistakenly lists Minnie Watchman as a man. Chazen: reader, cantor. pneuma: breath; a melodic leap in Byzantine chant. recreant: surrendered, cowardly. dead sea fruit: after the proverbial Apples of Sodom, beautiful but bitter. no flowers: forbidden by Orthodox Jewish custom. Shema Israel […] Adonai Echad: Hebrew, “Hear, oh Israel: the Lord [is] our God,” prayer for a dying person; see 118.

684 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 510

G 15:3240

for bought read boughs

for adsf or read ads for

G 15:3260

highkickers: featured in Photo Bits; see 63. coster picnic makers: after costermongers, street-hawker of fruits or vegetables; term of contempt; coster singer, music-hall performer; Picnic Society, nineteenth century organization promoting vaudeville shows and

pantomimes. panto boys: pantomime performers. transparencies: translucent image lit from behind. truedup dice: geometrically exact dice. Professor Waldmann’s wonderful […] Rubin with photo: typical advertisement from Photo Bits.

511 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 685

G 15:3280

G 15:3300

Steel wine: medicinal wine containing iron. Frailty, thy name is marriage: after Hamlet’s comment, “Frailty, thy name is woman!”; see 312. quoits are loose: discs on the posts of the Blooms’ bed; see 54.

orangekeyed: with a Greek decorative border; see 61. Poulaphouca: from the Irish, Poll na Phúca, “the Ghost’s Hole,” waterfall on the upper Liffey, twenty miles south of Dublin.

686 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 512

G 15:3320

G 15:3340

Irish National Forester’s uniform: Catholic nationalist association; see 313. to seek our shade? BLOOM (scared) High School of Poula? Mnemo? Not in full possession of faculties. Concussion. Run over by tram. THE ECHO Sham! BLOOM (pigeonbreasted (G, inclusion). tens: teens (G, correction). old Royal: former Theatre Royal,

destroyed by fire in 1880. sunspots that summer: there was minimal sunspot activity at that time. tipsycake: cake infused with wine or spirits. Mackerel!: Bloom’s nickname at school; see 154. Hobbledehoy: clumsy youngster between boyhood and manhood. Montague street: street off Harcourt Street. hamadryads: wood nymphs bonded to particular trees.

513 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 687

for trough read through

G 15:3360 for white polled read whitepolled

The flowers that bloom in the spring: Nanki-Poo’s duet with Ko-ko in Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado (1885). Capillary attraction: movement of a liquid through a channel. Rialto bridge: over the Grand Canal; close to Bloom’s childhood home. Staggering

Bob: three-day-old calf; see 163. STAGGERING BOB (large teardrops rolling from his prominent eyes, snivels) Me. Me see. BLOOM (G, inclusion). Ben Howth: the peak of Howth peninsula; see 168.

688 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 514

G 15:3380

delete comma after waistcoat

G 15:3400

Circumstances alter cases: proverb and one act comedy by William Jones Hoppin (1813–95), adapted from Alexander Dumas’s story “L’invitation à la valse.” Thirtytwo head over heels per second: see 69. Giddy Elijah: see 144. government printer’s clerk: Bloom imagines being described in the newspaper; he worked as a clerk for Thom’s Official Directory in 1886. Lion’s Head cliff: on southeast coast of Howth. Bailey and Kish lights: Bailey lighthouse at southeastern

Howth and Kish lightship on Kish Bank off Dublin Bay; see 359 and 44. Erin’s King: excursion steamer; see 64. When my country takes […] Done: Robert Emmet’s speech; see 279. (Pacing the heather: (Pawing the heather (G, correction). quassia: bitter medicinal preparation used for indigestion and constipation. Hamilton Long’s: apothecary; see 80. Peccavi!: Latin, “I have sinned!”

515 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 689

G 15:3420

the hand that rules: after “The hand that rocks the cradle ... ”; see 471. Show us: Hiberno-English, give me. assegai: African wooden spear with metal tip. Ware Sitting Bull!: beware of Sitting Bull (c.1831–90), Sioux

Indian chief who defeated Custer at the Battle of Little Bighorn in 1876. divaricated: spread apart. coatpans: coat tails. in nun’s white habit, coif and huge winged wimple: habit of Carmelite nuns.

690 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 516

G 15:3440

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Tranquilla convent: Rathmines Terrace, founded in 1833 by Carmelite nuns. Agatha: Saint Agatha, virgin martyr. Mount Carmel: holy mountain range associated with Elijah (1 Kings 18: 17–39) and Elisha (2 Kings 2:25); site of Carmelite monastery. apparitions of Knock and Lourdes: sites of appearances of the Virgin Mary; see 78. the Coombe: see 75. O Leopold lost […] To keep it up: after the song Bloom overheard; see 76. an elected knight of nine, strikes at his loins: after a rite associated

with the sixth Ineffable Degree in Freemasonry. Nekum!: meaning vengeance, part of the same rite. Nebrakada!: from a love spell; see 233. Cat o’ nine lives!: combines the “cat of nine tails” whip with the proverb “Every cat has nine lives.” The fox and the grapes: Aesop’s fox cannot reach the grapes and so calls them sour. your barbed wire: Bloom mistakenly thinks that nuns invented it: see 148. Reynard: fox who represents the church in the fourteenth-century epic poem Reynard the Fox.

517 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 691

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stench escaping from the cracks: in Purgatorio 19, Dante is awoken from a rapturous dream vision of a siren when Virgil uncovers her malodorous body. keen: Irish style of lamentation. Fohracht!: Fbhracht! (G, correction):

sound emitting from Bella. Dead cod!: infertile; cod (slang) scrotum. kipkeeper! (slang) brothel keeper. Pox and gleet vendor!: (slang) merchant of syphilis and its symptomatic discharge.

692 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 518

G 15:3500

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dead march from Saul: from Handel’s oratorio; see 94. Give a thing […] send you down below: rhyme associated with a children’s swapping game. To have

or not to have, that is the question: after Hamlet’s question, “To be or not to be,” (iii.i.56); see 269.

519 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 693

for exagerated read exaggerated

G 15:3540

for monosyllabbes read monosyllables

This silken purse I made: Bloom refutes the proverb “You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.” Dans ce bordel où tenons nostre état: French, “In this brothel where we hold our state,” after the refrain of François

Villon’s (c.1431–c.1463) “Ballade de la grosse Margot” (Ballad of Fat Margot). looks at the money, then at Stephen, then at Zoe, Florry (G, inclusion). brevi manu: Latin, “with short hand,” offhand, immediately.

694 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 520

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What, eleven? A riddle: in Stephen’s riddle to his students “The bells in heaven / Were striking eleven”; see 27. The fox crew […] To get out of heaven:

inverts Stephen’s riddle which ends “To go to heaven”; see 27.

521 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 695

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Le distrait: French, “the Distracted One,” Mallarmé’s title for Hamlet; see 179. absentminded beggar: Kipling’s song; see 179. Lucifer: friction match. Proparoxyton: Greek, word having an acute accent on the third last syllable. Moment before the next.

Lessing says: Lessing argued in Laocoön (1766) that while the poet describes consecutive actions, the plastic artist must represent the most suggestive moment. Burying his grandmother: Stephen’s answer to his earlier riddle, 27.

696 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 522

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Sixteen years ago: Stephen remembers breaking his glasses while a student at Clongowes Wood College; see chapter 1 of Portrait. Distance. The eye sees all flat: Berkeley’s theory of vision; see 48. Ineluctable modality of the visible: derived from Aristotle; see 37. The beast that has two backs: Iago’s term for sexual intercourse, Othello (i.i.117); see 134. Lamb of

London, who takest away the sins of our world: after John the Baptist’s description of Jesus, John 1:29: “Behold the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world.” Dona nobis pacem: Latin, “Give us peace”; the concluding phrase of the Agnus Dei (Lamb of God) prayer in the Mass.

523 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 697

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for tittle read little

the bloodoath in The Dusk of the Gods: Gunther and Siegfried’s vow that leads to the downfall of the gods in Die Götterdämmerung, the fourth opera in Richard Wagner’s cycle Der Ring des Nibelungen. Hangende Hunger […] Macht uns alle kaput: German, possibly a typo for “Hagende,” haggard; otherwise, “Hanging hunger, questioning woman, destroys us all”; in Act I of Wagner’s Die Walkure (1854–56), Siegmund calls his sister (and later wife) “Fragende Frau.” Hamlet, I am thy father’s gimlet!: after Hamlet: “I am thy

father’s spirit” (i.v.9); see 181. Two, three, Mars, that’s courage: Zoe counts the “mounts” or pads at the base of the fingers on Stephen’s palm. Sheet lightning courage: courage at a remove from events; sheet lightning merely lights up a cloud. The youth who could not shiver and shake: Grimms’ fairy tale. I see it in your face […] good little boy: rehearsal of Stephen’s beating and subsequent vindication in chapter 1 of Portrait.

698 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 524

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His criminal thumbprint on the haddock: after the legend that the two black marks on a haddock are prints of St Peter’s finger and thumb. Thursday: Joyce was born on Thursday, February 2, 1882. Thursday’s child has far to go: after the nursery rhyme “Monday’s child is full of grace.” Line of fate. Influential friends: another observation based on palmistry. Imagination

[…] Mount of the moon: palmistry. Knobby knuckles, for the women: palmistry associates prominent knuckles with analytical skills. Gridiron. Travels beyond the sea and marry money: in palmistry, gridiron marks upon the palm are associated with misfortune. Short little finger: associated with loquaciousness. Black Liz: hen in “Cyclops”; see 302.

525 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 699

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Moves to one great goal: Deasy’s characterization of history; see 34. the horn: erection; see 256.

700 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

G 15:3760

for autlered read antlered

quims: (low slang) female genitals. Plucking a turkey: (low slang) sexual intercourse. antlered head: after the expression “to wear the horns,” to be cuckolded.

“Circe” · 526

527 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 701

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G 15:3800

Raoul, darling: from The Sweets of Sin; see 226. I’m in my pelt: play on Venus im Pelz (Venus in Furs). pishogue: Hiberno-English, a charm, a spell, although here perhaps, after piteog, an effeminate man; see 307.

stamped receipt. BOYLAN (clasps himself) Here, I can’t hold this little lot much longer. (he strides off on stiff cavalry legs) BELLA (laughing) (G, inclusion).

702 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 528

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Ride a cockhorse: from the nursery rhyme; see 501. The mirror up to nature: Hamlet’s advice to the actors in “The Mouse-Trap” (iii.ii.22–27). ’tis the loud laugh bespeaks the vacant mind: after a phrase in Oliver Goldsmith’s (1728–74) poem The Deserted

Village (1770). Iagogo […] chokit: possibly a reference to Iago, who pushes Othello to strangle Desdemona in jealousy. Thursdaymomun: Thursdaymornun (G, correction).

529 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 703

G 15:3840 insert comma after nose

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Even the great Napoleon […] skin after his death: English doctors declared Napoleon’s body to be womanly in form, especially in having enlarged breasts. Tunney’s tawny sherry: from William James Tunney, family grocer and spirit dealer, 8 Bridge Street, Ringsend, and 10 Haddington Road; see 243. pen chivvying her brood of cygnets: female swan pursuing her chicks; see 180. Scottish Widow’s insurance policy: see 363. beeftea: beef broth. Weda seca whokilla farst: after the queen’s line in Hamlet’s play, “None

wed the second but who killed the first” (iii.ii.192); see 194. Martin Cunningham […] Shakespeare: similarity noted by Bloom; see 93. Merry Widow hat: after the broad-brimmed hat worn by the heroine of the popular light opera The Merry Widow (1907), originally Die lustige Witve (1905), by the AustroHungarian composer Franz Lehár (1870–1948). And they call me the jewel of Asia: from the operetta The Geisha; see 93. demirep: woman considered semirespectable.

704 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 530

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Et exaltabuntur cornua iusti: Latin, “And the horns of the righteous shall be exalted,” Psalms 75:10. Queens lay with prize […] the first confessionbox: see 199. Madam Grissel Steevens: heiress whose habitual shawl-wearing caused rumors she was deformed; see 391. suine: oily, fatty. scions of the house of Lambert: family suffering from a disorder in which their skin was covered in spiny scales. And Noah was drunk […] ark was open: Noah, inebriated, was seen

naked by his son Ham, Genesis 9:21–22. parleyvoo: English slang for the French language, after the French “parlez-vous” (“Do you speak?”). cocottes: French, “prostitutes.” heaven and hell show: entertainments at the neighboring Montmartre nightclubs of Le Ciel and L’Enfer, or Heaven and Hell. dessous troublants: French, “disordered underclothes,” or “disturbing lower parts.” Ce pif qu’il a: French slang, “The nose he has.”

531 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 705

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omlette: pun on the French pronunciation of Hamlet. a watermelon: Stephen remembers his dream; see pièce de Shakespeare: play by Shakespeare; see 179. 46. Across the world for a wife: 1897 novel by Guy double entente cordiale […] mon loup: French, “cordial Newell Boothby (1867–1905). double meaning, oh yes, my lone wolf.” I dreamt of

706 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 532

G 15:3940

for runs swift, for the open brighteyed, read runs swift for the open, brighteyed,

Dreams goes by contraries: popular rule; Freud’s theory in The Interpretation of Dreams (1900). Street of harlots: Stephen’s dream; see 46. In Serpentine Avenue Beelzebub showed me her, a fubsy widow: Stephen prayed to the devil that a widow would raise her skirts; see 40. And ever shall […] without end: the Lord’s Prayer. Pater!: Icarus’s cry to his father Daedalus as he falls, in Ovid’s Art of Love. O merde alors!: French, “Oh, shit!” Hola! Hillyho!: falconer’s summoning call; similar to Hamlet and Marcellus’s calls to one another

(i.v.15–16). cries of hearkening: cries of heartening (G, correction). An eagle gules […] argent displayed: heraldry, a red eagle in flight with its wings displayed, on a silver background; resembles the coat of arms of the Joyces of County Galway. Ulster King at arms!: chief official in the College of Arms; see 453. A stout fox […] earth, under the leaves: Stephen’s riddle; see 27. badger earth: badger’s den. Ward Union: fox hunt in Ireland. Six Mile Point, Flathouse, Nine Mile Stone: imagined fox hunt across ten miles of east County Wicklow.

533 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 707

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crown and anchor: board game played with dice marked with crowns, anchors, and the card-suits. thimbleriggers: con artists playing the shell game. broadsmen: (slang) cardsharpers. Crows: (slang) look-outs for thieves. the field!: betting slang, all the horses aside from the favorites. Tommy on the clay: betting slang, bookie with ready money. Ten to one bar one: betting slang, odds for any horse except for the favorite. spinning Jenny: gambling mechanism that moves miniature horses over a table at random speeds. the monkey: betting slang, £500. A dark horse […] winningpost: ghostly reenactment of Throwaway

winning the Gold Cup. Sceptre, Maximum the Second, Zinfandel: horses in the Gold Cup. the Duke of Westminster’s […] Ceylon, prix de Paris: horses whose portraits hang in Deasy’s office; see 32. isabelle: greyish yellow. Cock of the North: nickname for the chief of the Scottish Gordon clan. on spavined whitegaitered feet (G, inclusion). along the rocky road: from the ballad “The Rocky Road to Dublin”; see 31. ORANGE LODGES: Protestant Unionist fraternal orders in Northern Ireland; see 31. Per vias rectas!: Latin, “by the straight roads”; see 31.

708 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 534

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GREEN LODGES: Joyce’s fictitious Home-Rule counterpart to the Unionist Lodges. sir John!: Sir John Blackwood; see 31. noise in the street: version of Stephen’s definition of God; see 34. Yet I’ve a sort of a Yorkshire relish for: from “My Girl’s a Yorkshire

Girl”; see 244. augur’s rod: Stephen’s image of his stick; see 48. tripudium: Latin, “triple beat,” a ritual dance; see 49. inverness cape: sleeveless cloak with a removable cape.

535 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 709

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Who’ll dance? Clear the table. (The pianola (G, inclusion). Madam Legget Byrne’s: Mr and Mrs T. Leggett Byrne, teachers of dancing, 27 Adelaide Road and 68 Mountjoy Square West. Levinstone’s: Mrs P. M. Levenston, dancing academy, 35 Frederick Street South. Katty Lanner: Katti Lanner (1831–1915), Austrian ballet dancer and choreographer of the English Theatre of Varieties, London, and co-founder

of the National School of Ballet. Tout le monde […] monde en place!: quadrille instructions, “Everyone step forward! Bow! Everyone return to his place!” (see Judit Nényei, Thought Outdanced). shrivels, shrinks: shrivels, sinks (G, correction). two young fellows […] they’d left behind: from “My Girl’s a Yorkshire Girl.” the morning hours: the dance of the hours, a popular ballet number in Ponchielli’s La Gioconda; see 67.

710 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 536

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Carré! Avant deux! Breathe evenly! Balance!: quadrille instructions, “Form a square! Two steps forward! ... Rock step!” My shy little lass has a waist: from “My Girl’s a Yorkshire Girl.” cipria: cypre, henna. Avant huit! Traversé! Salut! Cours de mains!

Croisé!: quadrille instructions, “Eight steps forward! Cross over! Nod! Exchange hands!” The night hours, one by one, steal to the last place (G, inclusion). curchycurchy: parody of “curtsey, curtsey.” Heigho! Heigho!: the bells of St George’s church; see 67.

537 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 711

G 15:4100 change comma to fullstop after movements

Les tiroirs! Chaîne de dames! La corbeille! Dos à dos!: quadrille instructions, “Move in alternate lines across the stage! Women, join hands! Form a ring around the men! Back to back!” simply swirling: from “Seaside Girls”; see 60. Boulangère! Les ronds! Les ponts! Chevaux de bois! Escargots!: more quadrille instructions, “Breadmaking! (thrust heels of hands out

and down)! Circles! Bridges! Merry-go-round! Spirals!” Dansez avec vos dames! […] votre dame! Remerciez!: French, “Dance with your partners! Change partners! Give the little bouquet to your partner. Give thanks to each other!” Best, best of all: from “My Girl’s a Yorkshire Girl.” Toft’s cumbersome whirligig: merrygo-round at the Mirus Bazaar; see 494.

712 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 538

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Pas seul!: “Solo dance!” or “Not alone!” hornblower: Trinity gate-porter; see 83. Though she’s a factory […] no fancy clothes: from “My Girl’s a Yorkshire Girl.” Bis: Latin, “twice,” or in French, “encore.” Dance of death: allegorical representation in which a skeletal figure leads individuals to the grave. lacquey’s bell: at Dillon’s auction rooms; see 124. on Christass: Jesus is hailed as the King of Israel as he enters Jerusalem on a donkey, John 12:12–15. cockboat: small boat towed behind a larger vessel. through and

through: from “My Girl’s a Yorkshire Girl.” bellhorses: horses wearing bells, flowers, and ribbons for May Day. Gadarene swine: Jesus cast the devils that possessed two men into a herd of swine in Gadara, Matthew 8:28–34. onehandled Nelson: Nelson’s pillar; see 92, 142. Frauenzimmer: pejorative term for women; see 38. Gum, he’s a champion: after “My Girl’s a Yorkshire Girl.” rev. evensong Love: the reverend Hugh C. Love. blind coddoubled bicyclers: the College Sports poster; see 83.

539 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 713

G 15:4160

snowcake: cake topped with whipped eggwhites. no fancy clothes: from “My Girl’s a Yorkshire Girl.” wiswitchback: switchback (G, correction). mashtub: used in brewing; slang, wife; see 297. sort of viceroy […] bumpshire rose: the merged sounds of the Viceregal cavalcade and a regimental band playing “My Girl’s a Yorkshire Girl,” in Trinity College Park; see 244. Stephen’s mother […] rises stark through the

floor: after the appearance of the ghost of Hamlet’s father (iii.iv). Liliata rutilantium […] te virginum: see 10. Mulligan meets the afflicted mother: recalls the fourth Station of the Cross, “Jesus meets His afflicted mother.” Mercurial Malachi: see 17. Lemur: after the Roman “Lemures,” specters of the dead. Kinch dogsbody killed her bitchbody (G, reinsertion of displaced lines).

714 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 540

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Our great sweet mother!: from Swinburne’s “The Triumph of Time”; see 5. Epi oinopa ponton: Greek, from the Odyssey, “upon the wine-dark sea”; see 5. More women than men in the world: see 98. Love’s bitter mystery: from Yeats’s “Who Goes with Fergus?”: see 9. Tell me […] The word known to all men: see 48. at Dalkey with Paddy Lee: Joyce’s father, John

Joyce, was briefly engaged to the daughter of Patrick J. Lee, 2 Convent Road, Dalkey. Prayer for the suffering […] forty days’ indulgence: the Ursuline religious order was founded to educate girls and nurse the sick; the Ursuline Manual features the prayer to relieve the suffering of the faithful dead, “Devotion for the Souls in Purgatory.”

541 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 715

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STEPHEN (panting) His noncorrosive sublimate! The corpsechewer! (G, inclusion). Raw head and bloody bones!: boogeyman in Irish folklore; see 163. God’s hand!: depicted in the Old Testament, descending from a cloud. green crab: tumors were thought to resemble crabs; the Latin for crab is cancer. Ah non, par exemple!: French expression, “Oh no, I

can’t believe it!” Non serviam!: Latin, “I will not serve,” Lucifer’s declaration, Jeremiah 2:20; see also Fr. Arnall in chapter 3 and Stephen in chapter 5 of A Portrait. O Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on him!: after the Prayer to the Sacred Heart, “Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us.”

716 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 542

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Inexpressible was my anguish […] on Mount Calvary: after the suffering of Jesus on the cross with the Virgin Mary at its foot. Nothung!: German, “Needful,” the magic sword Siegfried uses to kill the

dragon Fafner and precipitate the fall of the gods in Wagner’s Der Ring des Nibelungen. Time’s livid final flame […] and toppling masonry: final conflagration of the world, as predicted by Blake; see 24.

543 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 717

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His hand under the lamp: His head under the lamp (G, correction). Pulling, the gasjet: Puling, the gasjet (G, correction). chimney’s: tube that protects the wick of a lamp. Bulldog: (slang) sheriff’s officer. Trinity student: at the time, students at Trinity were sons of

the Protestant Anglo-Irish Establishment; Stephen is a student at University College Dublin. he makes a masonic sign: Bloom’s attempt to convince Bella Cohen of Stephen’s elite status.

718 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 544

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Nephew of the vicechancellor: another fabrication. ragging: rough, noisy play. incog: incognito. Haroun Al Raschid: caliph of Baghdad who went about the city in disguise; see 46. step of a pard strewing the drag:

Bloom moved between Stephen and Mulligan with the step of a pard; see 209; “drag” is the scent left by a fox. Hornblower: gatekeeper; see 83.

545 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 719

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woman’s slipperslappers: nursery rhyme character; see 84. follow my leader: children’s game. night watch: constables from Dublin Metropolitan Police. The Nameless One: the title of James Clarence Mangan’s poem; see 444. the reverend Tinned Salmon: Revd George Salmon; see 157. the Westland Row postmistress: from whom Bloom has received his letter from Martha Clifford; see 70. Mrs Kennefick: basis in 1904 Dublin unknown. Clonskea tram: tramline destination; see 122. Miss Dubedatandshedidbedad: see 167. Mesdames Gerald and Stanislaus Moran

of Roebuck: Mrs Gerald Moran and Mrs Stanislaus Moran, in the fashionable area of Roebuck Hill, Dundrum. Drimmie’s: insurance office where Bloom worked; see 353. colonel Hayes: basis in 1904 Dublin unknown. Mrs Galbraith: older neighbor of the Blooms. old doctor Brady: Dr Francis F. Brady, Carnew, County Wicklow. Mrs Miriam Dandrade and all her lovers: basis in 1904 Dublin unknown. HUE AND CRY: phrase from The Merry Wives of Windsor (iv.v.95). Beaver street: parallel to Mabbot Street.

720 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Circe” · 546

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the fifth of George: George V (1865–1936; r.1910– 36), heir apparent in 1904. seventh of Edward: Edward VII (1841–1910; r.1901–10). Fabled by mothers of memory: after Blake’s “daughters of memory”; see 24. vocative: Latin grammatical case of address. Ungenitive: the genitive is the Latin grammatical case of possession; here, “ungenitive” suggests Cissy Caffrey’s avoidance of pregnancy. No, he didn’t. The girl’s telling lies. He was in Mrs Cohen’s:

No, he didn’t. I seen him. The girl there. He was in Mrs Cohen’s (G, correction, inclusion). Sisyphus: in Hades, Odysseus observes Sisyphus’s punishment of repeatedly pushing a boulder of marble to the top of a hill. Neopoetic: Uropoetic (G, correction), meaning the secretion of urine. blighter: contemptible person. Their’s not to reason why: from Tennyson’s “The Charge of the Light Brigade.”

547 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 721

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Doctor Swift says […] men in their shirts: inversion of Jonathan Swift’s declaration (1667–1745) in one of his Drapier’s Letters, “A Letter to the Whole People of Ireland” (1724), that “eleven men well armed will certainly subdue one single man in his shirt.” The bold soldier boy: after a poem by Samuel Lover (1797–1868), “The Bowld Sojer Boy.” Noble art of selfpretence: after the euphemism for boxing, “the noble art of self-defense.” Enfin, ce sont vos oignons: French: literally, “After all, those are your onions,” or

“It’s your business.” DOLLY GRAY: from the 1898 war song “Good-bye, Dolly Gray,” by Will D. Cobb and Paul Barnes. the sign of the heroine of Jericho: order conferred upon the wives of Freemasons. Rahab: the original heroine of Jericho, who makes a sign to assist the spies Joshua sent into the city, Joshua 2. Cook’s son, goodbye: from Kipling’s “The Absentminded Beggar”; see 179. the girl you left behind: after the title of a popular Irish ballad. oblate: of a sphere, flattened at the poles.

722 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

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philirenists: neologism, lovers of peace. tsar: Nicholas II (1868–1918; r.1894–1917), whose peace petition led to the 1899 Hague Conference of the Nations. king of England: Edward VII was called the peacemaker following the French-English entente cordiale of 1904. priest and the king: Blake’s twin embodiments of oppression. Sacred Heart: Catholic image of devotion. Garter and Thistle: orders of knighthood associated with St George and St Andrew, worn by the British monarch. Golden Fleece: order established by Philip the Good, duke of Burgundy. Elephant of Denmark: Danish order. Skinner’s: irregular cavalry regiment

under James Skinner (1778–1841). Probyn’s horse: 11th Prince of Wales Own Lancers, nicknamed after General Sir Deighton Macnaghten Probyn (1833–1924). Lincoln’s Inns’: one of the four London societies of lawyers. ancient and honourable […] of Massachusetts: America’s first volunteer corps; Edward VII was an honorary member. red jujube: see 145. robed as a grand elect prefect: before his reign, Edward VII was Grand Master of the Grand Lodge of England; see 70. made in Germany: worthless. Défense d’uriner: French, “No urinating.” Peace, perfect peace: 1875 hymn by Edward Henry Bickersteth (1825–1906).

549 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 723

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Mahak makar a back: password of the Grand Elect, Perfect, and Sublime Mason, meaning “God be praised, we have finished it.” You die for your country […] Let my country die for me: Pharisee Caiaphas predicts that Jesus will die for the nation, John 11.

Joking Jesus: Mulligan’s ballad, after Gogarty’s poem; see 18. My methods are new […] dust in their eyes: see previous note. Kings and unicorns!: featured in the royal arms of England. knackers: testicles.

724 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

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peep-o’-day boy’s: secret society of Ulster Protestants; see 43. vieille ogresse with the dents jaunes: Queen Victoria; see 43. DON EMILE PATRIZIO FRANZ RUPERT POPE HENNESSY: pan-European names; former British colonial governor Sir John Pope Hennessy (1834–91) defeated Parnell’s candidate in 1890. hauberk: armor. wild geese: Irish expatriate;

see 41. valant: read volant, flying. Werf those eykes […] todos covered of gravy!: macaronic, “Throw those eyes to the floor, big pigs of dirty Englishmen all covered in mud”; for yellowjohn, or John Bull, see 313. Green above the red: song by Thomas Osborne Davis (1814–45).

551 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 725

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THE CROPPY BOY […] country beyond the king: from the song “The Croppy Boy.” DEMON BARBER: after the title of George Dibdin Pitt’s (1799–1855) play Sweeney Todd; the Demon Barber of Fleet Street (1842). cleaver purchased by Mrs Pearcy to slay Mogg: in 1890, Mrs Pearcy, or Mary Eleanor Wheeler, was convicted of murdering Mrs Phoebe Hogg and her infant with a cleaver. Knife with which

Voisin: in 1917, Louis Voisin, a French butcher living in London, murdered and dismembered Mrs Émilienne Gérard. Phial containing arsenic […] Seddon to the gallows: in 1912 Mr and Mrs Frederick Seddon were convicted of poisoning their lodger Miss Barrow. Horhot ho hray ho rhother’s hest: line from “The Croppy Boy,” “Forgot to pray for [my] mother’s rest.” Mervy Talboys: Mervyn Talboys (G, correction).

726 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

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for im my house read in my house

a time: each. as applied to His Royal Highness: sold under special license. On coronation day […] beer and wine!: see 11. Ça se voit aussi à Paris: French, “you see this sort of thing in Paris too.” But by saint Patrick!: Hamlet swears by St Patrick that his words to Horatio are offensive (i.v.133–37). Old Gummy Granny […] blight on her breast: version of Ireland as the Poor Old Woman afflicted by the Great Famine which was begun by potato blight; see 14, 177, 196.

gammer: old woman. Hamlet, revenge!: after the Ghost to Hamlet (i.v.23–25). The old sow that eats her farrow!: after Stephen’s comment in Portrait (P 171). the king of Spain’s daughter: from the nursery rhyme “I had a little nut tree.” alanna: Anglicized Irish, after leanbh, “child.” Strangers in my house: trope for English invaders, features in Yeats’s Cathleen ni Houlihan; see 310.

553 · “Circe”

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G 15:4600 G 15:4620

Ochone!: Anglicized Irish, after Ochón, “Alas!” Silk of the kine!: Ireland personified as a cow; see 14. You met with poor […] does she stand?: from “The Wearing of the Green”; see 44. The hat trick!: sporting term, three successes of the same kind in a short period; see 414. Soggarth Aroon: transliterated Irish, sagart a rún, “dear priest”; also a patriotic song by John Banim (1798–1842). reverend Carrion Crow: in Flaubert’s Madame Bovary (1857), the priests gathering around a dying Emma’s bed are described as carrion crows. any bugger: any fucker (G, correction). THE

CITIZEN […] hostility.): should follow after shalal hashbaz on the next page (G, reinsertion of displaced lines). Erin go bragh!: Irish, “Ireland forever”; also an anonymous ballad. a proboer: many Irish supported the Afrikaner struggle against British rule; see 155. We fought for you […] Honoured by our monarch: in 1900, Queen Victoria honored the Royal Dublin Fusiliers for their campaign during the Boer War. pentice: variation of penthouse, originally, a makeshift shelter. in bearskin cap […] sabretache: uniform of an officer in the Grenadier Guards; see 70.

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“Circe” · 554

G 15:4640

the pilgrim warrior’s sign of the knights templars: the Knights Templar were a religious and military order founded in the twelfth century to protect pilgrims on the route to Jerusalem; the title was revived as a Masonic order in the eighteenth century and Tweedy’s sign is associated with active defense of their ideals. Rorke’s Drift: site of British victory in Zululand; see 433. Up, guards, and at them!: falsely attributed to Wellington at the battle of Waterloo. Mahal shalal hashbaz. THE CITIZEN Erin go bragh! (Major Tweedy ... hostility.) PRIVATE CARR (G, reinsertion

of displaced lines from 553). Mahal shalal hashbaz: Hebrew, “Hurry to the spoils”; the name of the son of a prophetess in Isaiah 8; the password of the Masonic Knights Templar. Garryowen: drinking song and tune of the Protestant marching song, “Kick the Pope”; also the name of Giltrap’s dog. The brave and the fair: after John Dryden’s “Alexander’s Feast,” “None but the brave deserve the fair.” gules doublet: red jacket. The harlot’s cry […] Ireland’s windingsheet: Stephen substitutes Ireland for England in the line from Blake’s “The Auguries of Innocence”; see 33.

555 · “Circe”

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G 15:4680

White thy fambles […] quarrons dainty is: thieves’ cant poem; see 47. Dublin’s burning! […] on fire!: after the song and nursery rhyme “London’s burning”; see 413. Brimstone fires: sulfur fires associated with hell; the following evokes Armageddon, the great battle of end times, Revelations 16:16. Pikes clash on cuirasses: in the 1798 Rebellion, the Irish rebels fought with pikes against fully armed soldiers. The midnight sun is darkened: after the darkening of the sun at Jesus’s death, Luke 23. The earth […] to many: at Jesus’s death, the earth shook and many of

the dead came back to life, Matthew 27:51. Factory lasses […] Yorkshire baraabombs: after “My Girl’s a Yorkshire Girl.” Laughing witches […] on broomsticks: after “Matcham’s Masterstroke”; see 66; also, Robert Burns’s poem “Tarn o’ Shanter” (1791), in which Tarn is beguiled by a witch in a “cutty sark,” or short shirt. It rains dragon’s […] up from furrows: after the myth of Cadmus and the founding of Thebes; a 1779 speech of Irish statesman Walter Hussey Burgh (1742–83), “England has sown her laws as dragon’s teeth, and they have sprung up as armed men.”

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“Circe” · 556

G 15:4700

the pass of knights of the red cross: Masonic password. Justin M’Carthy against Parnell: Justin McCarthy (1830–1912) called for Parnell’s resignation in 1890 and became the new chairman of the Irish Parliamentary Party. The O’Donoghue of the Glens: ancient Irish family that retained its lands in County Kerry until the early nineteenth century. Saint Barbara: patron of artillerymen. Black candles: one of the Black Mass’s inversions. gospel and epistle horns: projections on a Jewish altar. the tower: the Martello Tower, also St Barbara’s symbol. On the altarstone […] belly: a naked

woman acts as an altar in some Black Masses; the Cult of Reason was an atheist religion instituted by the French Revolutionary government. lntroibo ad altare diaboli: Latin, “I will go up to the devil’s altar”; see 3. To the devil […] glad my young days: inverted translation of the altar boy’s reply to the priest’s “Introibo... ”; see 412. a blooddripping host: blood rather than wine. Corpus Meum: Latin, “My body.” Htengier […] Aiulella!: reversal of “Alleluia, for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth,” from the Mass and Revelations 19:6. Dooooooooooog!: (protracted) reversal of “God.”

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The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 731

G 15:4720

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Kick the Pope: Irish Protestant street rhyme. Daily, daily sing to Mary: Catholic hymn. acushla: Anglicized Irish, from a chuisle mo chroí, “pulse of my heart.” dialectic, the universal language: Stephen defines gesture in this way; see 411. Exit Judas. Et laqueo se suspendit: Latin, “Judas left. And hanged

himself with a noose,” Matthew 27:5. This feast of pure reason: combination of Alexander Pope’s phrase “Feast of Reason,” in The First Satire of the Second Book of Horace Imitated (1733) and Immanuel Kant’s (1724–1804) Critique of Pure Reason (1781).

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“Circe” · 558

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Carbine in bucket!: military command to replace a supposedly either provokes someone to fight or reveals rifle or musket in holster. the coward’s blow: blow that them to be a coward.

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have you in the lockup: shove you in the lockup (G, correction).

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G 15:4800

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weepers: badges of mourning. sprung: (slang) drunk.

“Circe” · 560

561 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 735

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wipe your name off the slate: cancel a record of debt or misdemeanor. with my tooraloom tooraloom: from the song “I Vowed that I Never Would Leave Her”; see 68.

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“Circe” · 562

G 15:4860

G 15:4880

Two commercials that were standing fizz in Jammet’s: (slang) two traveling salesmen who were buying champagne for other customers in the Burlington hotel and restaurant, 26–27 St Andrew Street, owned by Michel and François Jammet. just

going home by Gardiner street: Gardiner Street runs from the Custom House on the Liffey through Nighttown to a couple blocks east of Eccles Street. mots: (Irish slang) women or girls. Cabra: suburban district two miles northeast of central Dublin.

563 · “Circe”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 737

G 15:4900

Sandycove: location of the Martello tower, fifteen miles away.

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“Circe” · 564

G 15:4920

G 15:4940

The name if you call. Somnambulist: theory that sleepwalkers awaken at the sound of their name; see 261. Black panther vampire: Stephen combines Haines’s nightmare with his own poem; see 47, 127.

Who […] drive […] wood’s woven shade?: Yeats’s “Who Goes with Fergus”; see 9. … white breast … dim sea. (He stretches (G, inclusion).

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The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 739

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swear that I will […] art or arts: Bloom recites the oath of secrecy required for initiation into a Freemason lodge. secret master: the fourth degree in the Scottish Rite of Freemasonry. boy of eleven: Rudy was born on December 29, 1893 and would have been eleven had he survived. a fairy […] a changeling: Irish folklore held that fairies stole children and left in their place sickly, lookalike fairies. an Eton suit: outfit modeled after the public school uniform; see 86. glass shoes: evoke

Cinderella’s magical slippers. bronze helmet: associated with Mercury. He reads from right […] kissing the page: in the manner of a Jewish person with a holy book. slim ivory cane: sign of distinction or authority in ancient Rome. white lambskin: white lambkin (G, correction); Rudy was buried in a “little woolly jacket” Molly knitted for him; the lambkin also evokes Jesus, Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God.

16 · “EUMAEUS” Tim Conley

“Eumaeus” is a mystery, in several senses of the word. Full of doubtful reports and people, it is a late-night foray into the world of criminals, adventurers, and down-and-outs. Just as Homer’s hero conceals his identity from his faithful swineherd, the namesake of this chapter, and fabricates a history for himself, Joyce’s narrative offers a blend of tall tales and coy evasions. The swineherd, scorned by and scornful of the suitors, gives the stranger food

27 Custom House

and shelter, but is not entirely duped by the fantastical stories given him in return: “don’t try to charm me now, don’t spellbind me with lies! Never for that will I respect you, treat you kindly.”1 Their encounter is a blend of hospitality and parrying, generosity and wariness. The very name Εὔμαιος is a mystery: it 1  Homer, The Odyssey, trans. Robert Fagles (New York: Penguin, 1997), 14:438–39.

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28 A 1917 protest meeting at Beresford Place, Butt Bridge (and cabman’s shelter)

might mean something like “well-intentioned” or, more awkwardly, “seeking good,” both of which seem apt not only for the herding of animals but also for the “orthodox Samaritan” efforts of Bloom (569; 16:3), but there is no consensus on this question.2 In fact, there are all sorts of unexpected and bizarre questions left unresolved by the chapter’s end, many of which even seasoned scholars can only shrug at. Surely Simon Dedalus was never a sharpshooter in a traveling circus? Has the sailor ever been to Gibraltar or hasn’t he? Is that or is that not Skin-the-Goat in the cabman’s shelter (“assuming he was he” [595; 16:985])? Why is the number sixteen tattooed on a man who only appears in the sixteenth chapter? Readers are left with only doubts and suspicions. First-time readers of the novel are likely to judge the episode a mystery, too, in as much as it may seem such an anticlimax. After all, they have waited hundreds of pages to see Bloom and Stephen actually meet, and have probably 2  Nikoletta Kanavou, The Names of Homeric Heroes: Problems and Interpretations (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015), 128–30.

entertained some expectations for that event, only to find the encounter’s details obfuscated when potentially interesting, and all too clear when not. The conversation between Stephen and Bloom, difficult as it can be to follow, is hardly momentous. It appears to be made up of one near-miss after another, and even when some sort of agreement on a given point seems possible, the subject suddenly changes or, on one occasion, Stephen recommends changing it. There are no new insights, and some feel as stale as the “rather antediluvian specimen of a bun” (578; 16:356) that Stephen declines to eat. On the subject of prostitution, for example, each repurposes a formula he has used earlier in the day: Stephen adapts the aphorism he gave as answer to Deasy’s insinuations against the Jews (“She is a bad merchant. She buys dear and sells cheap” [588; 16:738]) and Bloom calls prostitution “a necessary evil” (588; 16:742), just as he has said apologetically to Zoe in the previous chapter (471; 15:1980). An attempt at a scientific conversation, mostly about perception (X-rays, Galileo’s telescope) is met with Stephen’s theological cynicism. Where Bloom appears to be wondering about the relation of

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16 Amiens Street to the cabman’s shelter, Butt Bridge

“Eumaeus” · 743

consciousness to phenomena, Stephen mocks the tautologies of church doctrine. They do share an enthusiasm for music, and Bloom does manage to persuade Stephen to come home with him, if only for some promised cocoa, but these seem like pretty meagre connections. Disappointing, frustrating, boring: “Eumaeus” is no doubt all of these things, but above all it is wonderfully written – which is to say, wonderfully awfully written. Ulysses is, among other things, an extensive and lovingly curated exhibition of bad writing in its many flavors. There’s the forgettable yarn of Matcham’s Masterstroke and the heated snatches of Sweets of Sin, the flourishes of political blather in “Aeolus” and the drippings of romantic treacle in “Nausicaa,” the pompous epistolary stylings of Mr Deasy and the far humbler hangman’s letters mocked in “Cyclops.” “Eumaeus,” however, is the ultima, the longest unbroken spell of prose in crisis.3 Yet the source for the style – a word that must be used very loosely here – is even less ascertainable than in those other instances. It is worth noting, though, that only the spoken dialogue of characters other than Bloom is exempted from this “Eumaeus” effect. This point might prompt the supposition that Bloom is in some sense the episode’s narrator, writing of his “Experiences, let us say, in a Cabman’s Shelter” (601; 16:1231) for Tit-Bits or some such paying publication. However neat this theory seems, there are reasons to challenge it. For example, how could Bloom have such a detailed conception of what is in “Stephen’s mind’s eye” (576; 16:270)? How could he know that “Stephen thought to think of Ibsen” (570; 16:52)? Why should he be so struck by Stephen’s mention of Boylan possibly getting a job for Corley (575; 16:233–35), if he already knows exactly what Corley said to Stephen about it minutes before? How could he directly represent Stephen’s pithy remark about Ireland belonging to him, when he says that he “didn’t catch the latter portion” (599; 16:11667–68)? As is so often the case in this

3  “Penelope” might make for a debatable contender to this title, though the degree to which that chapter is “written” rather than “spoken” is a more unresolved question than it is for “Eumaeus.”

novel, there is more than a single consciousness at work here, and plenty of deflection between them. Yet there is at least a Bloomian inflection to the way that “Eumaeus” is written – and it is, crucially, written. The phrase “above described,” which follows the odd image in “sprang from the pen” (591; 16:840–41), is one of the clearest indicators that this chapter is specifically a textual experience, not an oral one such as “Cyclops” largely poses as. Readers might also recall how an excited Bloom fumbles at recounting the story of Reuben J. Dodd in “Hades” (91; 6:262– 91) and find in that demonstrated inability to tell a straight story intimations of “Eumaeus.” It might be most appropriate to see the narration as an imitation of Bloom – the verbal equivalent of the newsboys mocking his walk in “Aeolus” – in line with the chapter’s various acts of impersonation. The distinctive, often surprising dialogic contributions in earlier chapters of everyday sounds (a cat, a printing press, church bells) are replaced in “Eumaeus” with Murphy’s approximations of such dramatic phenomena as the shooting of eggs (“Pom” [579; 16:398]), a crocodile chomping down on an anchor (“Khaan!” [581; 16:470]), and a knife thrust into a back (“Chuk!” [584; 16:582]). “Sounds are impostures,” Stephen remarks (578; 16:362) in counterpoint to Bloom’s musing earlier in the day “everything speaks in its own way” (117; 7:177). The apparently “Bloomian” perspective is perhaps just another of the chapter’s impostures, its blunders the effect of caricature by ventriloquism. And those blunders are legion: dangling modifiers, pleonasms, incomplete phrases, faddish coinages, showy but worn or inapt idioms from other languages, flaccid associations, and mixed metaphors galore.4 There are also ­misnomers and imprecise terminology (a shout

4  Andrew Gibson proffers a more formal taxonomy of these features in his chapter on “Eumaeus” in Joyce’s Revenge: History, Politics, and Aesthetics in “Ulysses” (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 220–21. See also Katie Wales’s essay, “‘With Apologies to Lindley Murray’: The Narrative Method of the ‘Eumaeus’ Episode in Ulysses,” in Two Hundred Years of Lindley Murray, ed. Ingrid Tieken-Boon van Ostade (Münster: Nodus, 1996), 207–16, to which Gibson’s discussion is indebted.

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of greeting in the street is not a “compliment” (572; 16:116) and introducing oneself by name is not a “commonplace remark” [604; 1349]), misquotations and muddled proverbs (“fools step in” [618; 16:1868]), and countless redundancies (“nothing whatsoever of any kind” [571; 16:98– 99], “egregious balderdash” [596; 16:1030], and so on). The finger-wagging “(sic)” that follows “met him pike hoses” (607; 16:1473), presumably Molly’s pronunciation of “metempsychosis,” is pricelessly ironic. The insights had by carefully parsing sentences, which practice the reader comes to appreciate moving through the novel up to this point, become a different kind of pleasure in “Eumaeus.” Indeed, it is no easy feat to write so wrongly as this, and readers may enjoy and admire how what is erroneous is never outlandishly bungled but just slightly off the mark; a kind of perverted mot juste. Readers find themselves re-examining sentences not to find out what they mean but rather what they might be supposed to mean, and whatever became of that meaning. Consider, as more or less a random example, this sentence: “Needless to say the fumes of his recent orgy spoke then with some asperity in a curious bitter way foreign to his sober state” (600; 16:1175–77). “Needless to say” is never a winning way to begin a sentence (and neither, for that matter, is “to begin with,” even if grandly inflated to “Preparatory to anything else” [569; 16: 1]), and it may well be almost as difficult to determine whether orgies have fumes as whether those fumes can speak. Amid the attempted explanation of Stephen’s rudeness as the effects of alcohol is the juxtaposition of “foreign” and “state,” a kind of residue of the foregoing discussion of Irish politics. “It’s the alcohol that’s talking, not him” would be a colloquial translation of this overwrought explanation. These efforts to moderate or excuse a fairly evident intention (Stephen’s brusque statement, “We can’t change the country. Let us change the subject” [599; 16:1171]) only encourage readers to be less credulous of such narrative gestures. All of these kinds of errors bespeak a lack of editing within the narrative frame or, to put it another way, expose the illusion of focus that careful revision provides. Instead there is a headlong quality to the prose: the language

is ever stumbling forward, falling behind in an unhappy effort to correct a false step, and then racing on again. Milly Bloom’s apology for her “bad writing am in a hurry” (64; 4:413) seems unnecessary compared with what is found in this episode, where a strange sense of “hurry” is at work. As John Henry Raleigh remarks, “If this is ‘tired’ and ‘lifeless’ prose, as it is often maintained that the prose of ‘Eumaeus’ is, then surely one must reverse the meaning of the words tired and lifeless.”5 Whether the grogginess felt by the dissolute Stephen can be seen as a cause for the style seems doubtful, not least because Bloom hardly appears tired at all: he is chatty and very active, even jaunty. It might be more appropriate to understand Joyce’s characterization of the “technic” in the Linati schema as “relaxed prose” to suggest not fatigue, but rather an unguarded sort of writing. This understanding better suits what the same schema calls the “meaning” of the episode: “the ambush on home ground,” which sounds rather exciting and might imply that some conspiracy or entrapment is afoot. In this milieu of suspicion, identification is never a simple business, and all recognitions are staggered and uncertain. Although readers of Dubliners recall Corley, when Bloom and Stephen run across him, as Lenehan’s fellow sponge from “Two Gallants,” a needlessly grand family history is provided as introduction: the pseudo-biblical preamble “Lord John Corley some called him and his genealogy came about in this wise” (572; 16:130–31) is followed by a lengthy explanation of this nickname, to no obvious purpose, either at this moment or subsequently. The narrative turns back to the action (a summary of Corley’s “doleful ditty” to Stephen [572; 16:144]), but this is interrupted by an abrupt reversion to the genealogy: He was out of a job and implored of Stephen to tell him where on God’s earth he could get something, anything at all, to do. No, it was the daughter of the mother in the washkitchen that was fostersister to the heir of the house or else 5  John Henry Raleigh, “On the Way Home to Ithaca: The Functions of the ‘Eumaeus’ Section of Ulysses,” in Irish Renaissance Annual II, ed. Zack Bowen (Newark: University of Delaware Press, 1981), 18.

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they were connected through the mother in some way, both occurrences happening at the same time if the whole thing wasn’t a complete fabrication from start to finish. Anyhow he was all in. (572–73; 16:148–54)

If “the whole thing” is “a complete fabrication from start to finish,” then this excursus loses not just its questionable point but all pretense of a point. Joyce here parodies Homer’s digression in Book 15 of the Odyssey, in which Eumaeus’s unlikely noble lineage is detailed. The concluding phrase “all in” makes nothing clearer except that there are two kinds of desperation in evidence here: Corley’s dire financial straits and the novel’s various failed attempts to catch up with what it is describing. There are many instances of this effect, the equivalent of a sports commentator unable to keep pace with the match. Sometimes the faulty logic of an expression demands some adjustment, though it is never entirely rescinded: “floundering up and down the antipodes and all that sort of thing and over and under, well, not exactly under” (585; 16:634–36). When Murphy flexes various muscles to animate his tattoos, the narrator is entirely unable to figure out what is going on in advance of the trick’s effect: “That worthy, however, was busily engaged in collecting round the. Someway in his. Squeezing or” (586; 16:681–82). Parentheses acting as displaced emendations – another form of delayed reaction – can have different degrees of irony, depending on the awareness displayed or inferred. Take, for example, this sentence: This virtuous resolution had scarcely been formed, when the boy and the blue bag, who were inseparable companions, rushed violently into the room, and said (at least the boy did, for the blue bag took no part in the announcement) that the case was coming on directly.6

This excerpt from The Pickwick Papers, a book in which varying styles of verbosity are played with and against each other, offers a qualification as an afterthought, underscoring the 6  Charles Dickens, The Pickwick Papers (London: Penguin, 1986), 697.

obvious with its correction: bags, blue or otherwise, do not speak. Compare Dickens’s technique with this tangle: “– It will (the air) do you good, Bloom said, meaning also the walk, in a moment” (614; 16:1718–19). Dickens’s narrator interrupts at just the right moment for comic effect, and is able to get immediately back on the rails again without losing the purpose of the sentence as a whole. Joyce’s interruption is, more puzzlingly, within the dialogue itself, which seems to upend the entire act of providing direct discourse or quotation. Does Bloom himself utter that parenthesis, “the air,” and the narrator, like many who usher spoken words into print, add the unpronounceable brackets, by way of being somehow helpful? Presumably Bloom does not say “meaning also the walk” – that must be that helpful narrator – but what about “in a moment”? The novel’s “consistently autocorrective” quality noted by Fritz Senn is at its most conspicuous, and most bothersome, in “Eumaeus.”7 In this respect, the chapter might be read as a sort of loose parody of the specific hermeneutic difficulties posed by Ulysses as a whole. Bloom is in some respects a Pickwickian figure, represented now with suggestions of bourgeois respect and then with ridicule, but Joyce does much more than Dickens to undermine any authoritative or definitive rendering. In 1912, Joyce wrote of Dickens: “The form he chose to write in, diffuse, overloaded with minute and often irrelevant observation, carefully relieved at regular intervals by the unfailing humourous note, is not the form of the novel that can carry the greatest conviction” (OCPW 183). Not only does this description neatly fit “Eumaeus,” it highlights the major dilemma of the chapter: conviction, a word connoting evidence (generally in short supply), a judicial determination of guilt (although everyone in the chapter, including Skin-the-Goat, is very much at large), the assurance of one’s moral principles (helping others, for example). The act of convincing is precarious throughout the narrative turns of “Eumaeus”: the seadog’s tales told by a curious Odysseus figure, Bloom’s efforts 7  Fritz Senn, “Dynamics of Corrective Unrest,” in Joyce’s Dislocutions: Essays on Reading as Translation (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1984), 69.

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to befriend Stephen, and the ways in which the novel’s realism, so resoundingly dismantled in the previous chapter, cannot properly reconstitute itself. In the face of this thick atmosphere of uncertainty and urgency, it might be suggested that mystery is the genre of “Eumaeus,” in the way that “Nausicaa” emulates romance novelettes and young women’s magazines and “Circe” explodes stage conventions. In a mystery, there is, strictly speaking, no such thing as a digression: all information is either a clue or a “red herring” (a phrase deployed in “Eumaeus,” where it acts itself as a red herring [612; 16:1661]). Style functions in much the way that it does in a magician’s show: as misdirection, a means by which to prevent the reader or audience from discerning the logical connections that dispel the enigma. Yet at the same time the narrative must be (or at least seem) trustworthy and clear, getting the facts straight. A similar tension is at work in “Eumaeus,” whose style does not obscure the events, notably slight though they are, to the same extent that those of “Oxen of the Sun” and “Circe” do: it is intrusive rather than obtrusive, akin to the headlines of “Aeolus” although without their organizing effect. The underlying realism of the narrative is not seriously threatened by the orotundity and clumsiness of its delivery, and in fact the inclination towards mystery and intrigue is so self-deflating that it underscores the entirely unexciting incidents. The setting and tone repeatedly strive for the sinister. (Note that both the Gilbert and Linati schema list nerves as the bodily organ of the chapter.) Lurking in those late night streets may be “desperadoes” and “marauders” who “could in one fell swoop at a moment’s notice, your money or your life, leaving you there to point a moral, gagged and garrotted” (572; 16:120, 124–27). Suggestions of uncertain threats and “coincidences of a terrible nature” (590; 16:826) abound: “Our lives are in peril tonight. Beware of the steamroller” (615; 16:1780). “Just in the nick of time,” Bloom tries to signal to Stephen (a warning? but of what?) with a nudge at his boot, but although that corny phrase implies a successful result, Stephen does not take the cue (578; 16:371). Objects are portentously introduced, as though they were ostentatious clues:

a strangely addressed postcard, a knife, a tattooed number. Even the way that Bloom unexpectedly flourishes a photograph of his wife before Stephen has the quality of a witness interrogation, of sly entrapment. The unique phrase “Sherlockholmesing him up ever since he clapped eyes on him” (590; 16:831) gives the literary nod, and perhaps the mention of “Mr Doyle” (578, 16:363) a further wink. Bloom is allegedly “a levelheaded individual who could give points to not a few in point of shrewd observation” (574; 16:218–20) and his remark “Of course you didn’t notice as much as I did” (576; 16:283–84) is a Holmesian assertion, reminiscent of the famous rebuke to Watson: “You see, but you do not observe.”8 In Doyle’s stories, Watson’s function as loyal chronicler is as essential as Holmes himself. Watson is the respectable, middle-class mediator, a trustworthy doctor who, Holmes habitually complains, embellishes the accounts, which is to say that he gives a human cast to what in Holmes’s hands might be rendered nothing more than a cold mathematical formula. If Bloom is something of a detective in search of a mystery (“having detected a discrepancy” [582; 16:494–95]) and also, as we have seen, somehow connected with the sub-Watson quality narration, he feels too the allure of the illicit. He is especially given to contemplating crimes of passion: Quite apart from that he disliked those careers of wrongdoing and crime on principle. Yet, though such criminal propensities had never been an inmate of his bosom in any shape or form, he certainly did feel and no denying it (while inwardly remaining what he was) a certain kind of admiration for a man who had actually brandished a knife, cold steel, with the courage of his political convictions (though, personally, he would never be a party to any such thing), off the same bat as those love vendettas of the south, have her or swing for her, when the husband frequently, after some words passed between the two concerning her relations with the other lucky mortal (he having 8  Arthur Conan Doyle, “A Scandal in Bohemia,” in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, ed. Richard Lancelyn Green (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 8.

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had the pair watched), inflicted fatal injuries on his adored one as a result of an alternative postnuptial liaison by plunging his knife into her, until it just struck him that Fitz, nicknamed Skin-the-Goat, merely drove the car for the actual perpetrators of the outrage and so was not, if he was reliably informed, actually party to the ambush which, in point of fact, was the plea some legal luminary saved his skin on. In any case that was very ancient history by now and as for our friend, the pseudo Skin-the-etcetera, he had transparently outlived his welcome. He ought to have either died naturally or on the scaffold high. (596–97; 16:1054–72)

While meting out his punishments in “Circe,” Bello refers to Bloom’s “career of crime” (504; 15:3043): the fantasies of adultery and revenge continue here in another key. Molly and Boylan need not be named. Joyce intermingles imaginary crimes with historical ones, though the latter, too, revolve around deception and error. Most pronounced are the Phoenix Park murders, the “ambush” referred to above, though those crimes are curiously misdated: they took place in 1882, the year that Joyce was born, and not 1881, though the same error is made in “Aeolus.”9 What Joyce’s brother Stanislaus called “flabby Dublin journalese” in “Eumaeus” (L III 58) points to both the misreporting endemic to the newspaper (which places C. P. M’Coy and Stephen Dedalus and “M’Intosh” at Dignam’s funeral) and the chapter’s narration at large (“Skin-the-Goat” Fitzharris drove a decoy cab, not the getaway cab).10 The sensational “Tichborne Case” drifts into Bloom’s conversation, prompted by thoughts of how Parnell may have faked his own death, part of an ongoing theme of disappearing or lost men. Heir to a considerable family fortune in England, Tichborne was believed to have gone down with the ship off the coast of Brazil in 1854, but in the following decade someone suddenly appeared claiming to be the missing man. The legal wranglings and excited headlines are summarized, in a fashion, here: 9  Raleigh, “On the Way Home to Ithaca,” 29. 10  Raleigh, “On the Way Home to Ithaca,” 36.

And then, number one, you came up against the man in possession and had to produce your credentials like the claimant in the Tichborne case, Roger Charles Tichborne, Bella was the boat’s name to the best of his recollection he, the heir, went down in as the evidence went to show and there was a tattoo mark too in Indian ink, lord Bellew was it, as he might very easily have picked up the details from some pal on board ship and then, when got up to tally with the description given, introduce himself with: Excuse me, my name is So and So or some such commonplace remark. A more prudent course, as Bloom said to the not over effusive, in fact like the distinguished personage under discussion beside him, would have been to sound the lie of the land first. (604; 16:1341–51)

There is no number two, one cannot “tally” with a description, and the phrase “lay of the land” appears to have fallen prey to a Freudian slip – but beyond all of this confusion can be seen Bloom’s definite interest in the affair, even as he considers that a “more prudent course” might be taken. The Bella/Bellew coincidence, which so nicely echoes the name of the brothel owner, is no invention, but the facts of the case, which Joyce copied in his notes along with the phrase “evidence went to show.”11 “Claimant” was the cautious moniker repeated by newspapers. The Tichborne case is thought to be one of the inspirations for the Sherlock Holmes story “The Man with the Twisted Lip” (1891), as was “A Day as a Professional Beggar,” a journalist’s account of his slumming among the down and out, published in Tit-Bits (Bloom’s toilet reading in “Calypso”) earlier the same year.12 Slumming is precisely what Bloom and Stephen are doing, and Bloom’s identity is under constant revision (“L. Boom” [602; 16:1260] is a faulty alibi) and readily disavowed at any given moment (“though in reality I’m not” [597; 16:1085]).

11  Phillip F. Herring, ed., Joyce’s “Ulysses” Notesheets in the British Museum (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 1972), 369. 12  “A Day as a Professional Beggar,” Tit-Bits, January 17, 1891.

748 · Tim Conley

Perhaps the only mystery in “Eumaeus” that is convincingly “solved” is this one: – One thing I never understood, he said to be original on the spur of the moment. Why they put tables upside down at night, I mean chairs upside down, on the tables in cafés. To which impromptu the neverfailing Bloom replied without a moment’s hesitation, saying straight off: – To sweep the floor in the morning. (613–14; 16:1708–13)

Elementary, my dear Dedalus. So pleased is Bloom with his swift and decisive solution that he thereafter “skipped around” Stephen to effectively change places with him (614; 16:1714). Bloom is Watson to Stephen’s Holmes one moment, and then the roles are reversed in the next. As Gerald L. Bruns observes, We are led to suspect … that no real relationship exists between character and role (just as, from the nominalist point of view, no natural relationship exists between thing and name). What is more … it is precisely in terms of this suspicion that something like an authentic role (among other, dubious roles) is established for Bloom: namely, the eiron, whose business it is to expose the discontinuity between character and role – that is, to expose the impostor and deflate the romantic.13

Bruns’s point is affirmed by Bloom’s interest in the compulsion “[t]o show the understudy in the title role how to” (604; 16:1332–33) although how to what, exactly, we never find out. How replaceable one man is by another represents both opportunity (for Corley, for example, who might take Stephen’s job) and anxiety (for an anxious husband). The Holmes–Watson dyad is part of a larger theme of male friendship in the episode. The domain of the cabman’s shelter is conspicuously, exclusively male: the female prostitute

13  Gerald L. Bruns, “Eumaeus,” in James Joyce’s “Ulysses”: Critical Essays, ed. Clive Hart and David Hayman (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974), 370 (ellipses added).

is waved away and Kitty O’Shea comes in for some misogynist appraisal. Among the likes of sailors and shady customers are the bonds of mates and co-conspirators. There is charity in Stephen’s kindness to Corley (who replies, “you’re a gentleman” [574; 16:197]), there is concern in Bloom’s urging Stephen to eat, and, in his care for the younger man, there is the inspiring “Samaritan” hospitality shown by one Mr Hunter of Dublin to a young James Joyce (  JJ 161–62). Motives prove more difficult to determine (recall that “Eumaeus” means something like “well-intentioned”). Bloom feels compelled to repeat his paternal advice that Stephen beware of Buck Mulligan who “was prone to disparage and even to a slight extent with some hilarious pretext when not present, deprecate him, or whatever you like to call it which in Bloom’s humble opinion threw a nasty sidelight on that side of a person’s character, no pun intended” (618; 16:1869–73). Readers with magnifying glasses at the ready may hunt long for that elusive pun, though the word “side” is a significant recurring note throughout the chapter. As Bloom guides Stephen to the cabman’s shelter, he is said to be “acting as his fidus Achates” (570; 16:54–55), the very term scornfully used by Simon Dedalus to denote Mulligan in “Hades” (85; 6:49), impressing Bloom with how he is “[f]ull of his son” (86; 6:74). The recurrence or adoption of this expression – the patina of highbrow allusion, or Latin for Latin’s sake – signals a wish on Bloom’s part to supplant Mulligan. The Virgilian phrase gets a little mixed up with a pseudo-Homeric “tender Achilles” as the chapter goes on: “his right side being, in classical idiom, his tender Achilles” (614; 16:1716). These mythical references join a homoerotic subtext. Hints in such phrases as “[t]he redbearded sailor who had his weather eye ­ on the newcomers boarded Stephen” (578; 16:367–68) and “Let me cross your bows, mate” (593; 16:920) culminate in Murphy displaying his bare chest with its image: an improbable portrait of the artist as a young man. Antonio, the only Greek in a novel drawing upon a Greek epic, shares the name of the patron saint of swineherds and sailors alike, the saint invoked against shipwreck and

“Eumaeus” · 749

for a­ ssistance in ­finding lost articles (such as Bloom’s lost button, “gone the way of all buttons” [570; 16:37]). Unfortunately, he is at least as doubtful and as confusing as any of the other elements in “Eumaeus.” In fact, he is one of the deeper fissures in the chapter’s verisimilitude. When Murphy sings of him “As bad as old Antonio / For he left me on my ownio” (587; 16:702–3), he is not quite faithfully performing the music hall number that actually runs “Oh! Oh! Antonio, he’s gone away / Left me aloneee-o, all on my own own-ee-o,” but, bizarrely, quoting Bloom’s memory of the song’s lyrics in “Hades” (94; 6:375). Bloom is comparing one abandoned woman’s complaint with another, “Oh, oh, Antonio” and “Has Anybody Here Seen Kelly?” – both written by a C. W. Murphy. A further epistemological wrinkle awaits in the fact that both songs were released

in 1908, four years after the events of Ulysses. The text is queer in many ways, and the phenomenon of misreporting runs deeper than the levels of character and plot. The strange beauty of “Eumaeus” lies in its art of disappointment, the reversal of false expectations. While so many of its “convolutions of the grey matter” (588; 16:752) are awkward and aimless, sometimes they trip over sounds and lose distinctions in a manner approaching poetry: “Nettled not a little” (602; 16:1262), for instance, is worth savoring. Convolutions rather than convictions: this route leads Joyce to Finnegans Wake. “Eumaeus” amiably meanders through, without presuming to solve, many mysteries – not just murders, disappearances, and frauds, but the mysteries of scientific phenomena, friendship, politics, masculinity, trust, and life itself.

567 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 751

569 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 753

G 16:20

orthodox Samaritan fashion: after Luke 10:30–37; as Samaritans were not Jewish, this phrase is contradictory. Vartry water: Vartry Water Works; see 261. cabman’s shelter: at the intersection of Beresford Place and the Custom House Quay. was the rub: from Hamlet (iii.i.64). for the nonce: for the time being. e. d. ed.: (slang) finished, exhausted; recalls “U. p: up.” along Beaver street, or, more

properly, lane: there is no Beaver Lane. farrier’s: J. Kavanagh, horseshoer and farrier, 14–15 Beaver Street. livery stables: 42 Montgomery Street. debouching: issuing from a narrow or confined place; see 154. Dan Bergin’s: grocery, tea, and wine shop, 46 Amiens Street. Jehu: fast, reckless driver, from 2 Kings 9:20. North Star Hotel: 26–30 Amiens Street.

754 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 570

G 16:40

G 16:60

bevelling: slanting. Mullet’s: tea, wine and spirit shop, 45 Amiens Street. Signal House: grocery and spirit shop, 36 Amiens Street. Amiens street railway terminus: the Great Northern Railway terminus. gone the way of all buttons: after, “gone the way of the flesh.” Jupiter Pluvius: Latin, “Jupiter the Rainmaker,” Roman king of the gods. dandered: strolled, sauntered. sandstrewer: see 414. the morgue: Dublin City Morgue, 3 Store Street; rear entrance at 2–4 Amiens Street. Dock Tavern: 1 Store Street. C division police station: Dublin Metropolitan Police Barrack,

C Division, 3 Store Street. Ibsen […] Baird’s, the stonecutter’s: D. G. Baird and J. Paul Todd, engineers and founders, 20–25 Talbot Place; in Portrait, Stephen thinks here of Henrik Ibsen (1828–1906), Norwegian writer (P 148). fidus Achates: faithful Achates; see 85. James Rourke’s: baker and flour merchant, 5–6 Store Street. our daily bread: Lord’s Prayer; see 55. Bread, the staff of life: proverb. O tell me where is fancy bread?: after The Merchant of Venice (iii.ii.63–66). swell mobsmen: (slang) pickpockets dressed as ordinary people.

571 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 755

G 16:80

G 16:100

man in the gap: courageous defender; see 285. finis: Latin, “finish.” the bridewell: jail; see 155. Mr Tobias: Matthew Tobias, prosecuting solicitor for the Dublin Metropolitan Police (DMP), 7 Eustace Street. old Wall: see 154. Malony: Mahony (G, correction); Daniel Mahony, barrier, divisional magistrate for the DMP. bruited: gossiped. unscrupulous in the service of the Crown: the DMP. eagerly served the interests

of the English. A division in Clanbrassil street: Dublin Police Barracks, A Division, located on Upper Kevin Street, not Clanbrassil Street. Pembroke Road: fashionable street in Ballsbridge. the much vexed question of stimulants: the controversial temperance movement. aperient: opening the bowels. confrères: French, “companions.” circs: circumstances. that one was Judas: the betrayer of Jesus; see 557.

756 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 572

G 16:120

G 16:140

quondam: Latin, “former.” actuated: carried out in practice. on the qui vive: on the alert. funkyish: variation on slang term “funky,” to be frightened, timid. the Thames embankment: London indigent section; indigence. boodle: money. his genealogy came about in this wise: echoes Matthew 1:18. the G division: elite plain-clothes detectives; see 155. Louth: on Ireland’s east coast, north of Dublin. New Ross:

town in County Wexford. house of the Lords Talbot de Malahide: prominent Old English family; see 214. her mother or aunt or some relative, a woman, as the tale went, of extreme beauty, had enjoyed (G, inclusion). washkitchen: area for laundry. swab: low or unmannerly fellow. sprinkling of a number of other uncalledfor (G, inclusion).

573 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 757

G 16:160

G 16:180

on the rocks: (slang) without means or money; see 257. gentleman usher: assistant to a schoolmaster or headteacher. Christian Brothers: Catholic teaching organization; see 144. dosshouse: cheap rooming house; no record exists of Mrs Maloney’s. tanner: (slang) six pence. M’Conachie: no known record. the Brazen Head: Dublin’s oldest tavern, 20 Lower Bridge Street. suggestive to the person addressed

of friar Bacon: the play The Honourable History of Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay (c.1589–92) by Robert Greene (1558–92) in which Friar Bacon constructs a bronze head with magical powers. rigmarole: an unintelligible or incoherent story. haud ignarus malorum miseris succurrere disco: Latin, “not at all ignorant of misfortune, I have learned to aid the miserable”; after Virgil’s Aeneid. screw: (slang) salary.

758 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 574

G 16:200

G 16:220

Who now exactly gave them he wondered or where was (G, inclusion). halfcrowns: coin worth two shillings and six pence. the Bleeding Horse: pub, 25 Upper Camden Street; appears in James Sheridan Le Fanu’s (1814–73) novel The Cock and Anchor (1845). the Carl Rosa: Opera Company, founded 1873 by German Carl Rosa (1842–89); popular in Dublin. Bags Comisky: possibly C. Comisky, 27 Effra Road,

Rathmines. Fullam’s: ship chandler, 6 Eden Quay, 4 Rogerson’s Quay, 54 Denzille Street. Nagle’s: J. Nagle’s pub, 9 Cathedral Street, 25 Earl Street North. O’Mara: basis in 1904 Dublin unknown. Tighe: basis in 1904 Dublin unknown. lagged: (slang) arrested. impecuniosity. Probably: impecuniosity. Palpably (G, correction). rara avis: Latin, “rare bird”; anything out of the ordinary.

575 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 759

G 16:240

G 16:260

thick: excessive, indecent, or indelicate. blandiloquence: flattering talk. bucket dredger: vessel for removing silt from a riverbed. Eblana: Eblana Cement and Plaster Manufacturing Co., 183 Great Brunswick Street; see 371. Customhouse Quay: site of the Dublin Port and Docks Board, the

King’s Timber Yard and other premises. Everyone according to […] his deeds: after Karl Marx’s axiom in Criticism of the Gotha Programme (1875), “From each according to his ability; to each according to his needs”; also, after Romans 2:6. fag: (slang) work, do something fatiguing.

760 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 576

G 16:280 for through read though

G 16:300

euchred: outwitted. bally: blasted. ingle: fire burning in a hearth. Trinidad shell cocoa: cheap brand of cocoa. Friday herrings: Fridays were “fast days,” no meat could be consumed, according to the Roman Catholic Church. mangle: machine for rolling and pressing linen and cotton clothing. third precept of the church: “to observe the fasts on the days during the seasons appointed.” quarter tense or, if not,

ember days: both the same; four fasting periods of the year, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays after the first Sunday in Lent. guide, philosopher, and friend: from Essay on Man, by Alexander Pope. tony: (slang) high on the social scale, fashionable. rescue of that man from certain drowning: in “Telemachus.” Skerries: resort, fishing village on Dublin’s north coast. Malahide: maritime town north of Dublin.

577 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 761

G 16:320

G 16:340

men’s public urinal: under the Loop Line Bridge. Putana madonna che ci dia i quattrini! Ho ragione? Culo rotto! Intendiamoci. Mezzo sovrano più … Dice lui, però! Mezzo! Farabutto! Mortacci sui! (G, inclusion): Italian, “Madonna-Whore, make him give us the money! Am I right? Bloody arsehole! Let’s get this straight. Half a sovereign

more ... So that’s what he says now. Half! Rascal! His filthy dead ancestors!” the cabman’s shelter: see 569. anent: in reference to. sangfroid: French, “cold-blood.” hoi polloi: the masses. stevedores: workman loading and unloading the cargoes of merchant vessels. bibulous: addicted to drinking or tippling. quandary over voglio: see 61.

762 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 578

G 16:360 for Stephens aid read Stephen said

Bella Poetria!: bella poesia, Italian, “beautiful poetry.” Belladonna voglio: Italian, “beautiful woman I want”; belladonna, poisonous plant nightshade. lassitude: flagging of bodily or mental powers. tête-à-tête: French, “head-to head,” conversation. Cicero, Podmore, Napoleon, Mr Goodbody, Jesus, Mr Doyle: Cicero, see 120, in Latin, means “chickpea,” is like “podmore”; Buonaparte, Italian,

“good body”; Christos, Greek, “anointed one,” an approximate homophone for Doyle. Shakespeares were as common as Murphies: Murphy is a common surname in Ireland; both names were not typically associated with nobility. What’s in a name?: see 200. weather eye: see 273. boarded: made advances to. Holland: distilled drink similar to gin.

579 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 763

G 16:380

G 16:400 delete dash before Egg two

Buffalo bill shoots […] he never will: William Frederick Cody (1847–1917), American frontiersman and entertainer. the Bisley: annual contest of the English National Rifle Association held at Bisley

Common, southwest of London. Hengler’s Royal Circus: see 62. W. B. Murphy: D. B. Murphy (G, correction of this and all following instances of “W. B.”). Carrigaloe: area in Queenstown.

764 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 580

G 16:420

for finelly read finally

G 16:440

Queenstown Harbour: see 267. Fort Camden and Fort Carlisle: forts on the west and east entrances of Queenstown harbour. That’s where I hails from. I belongs there. That’s where I hails from. My little (G, inclusion). For England, home and beauty: see 216. shieling: Scottish, hut near a cattle pasture. diddled Davy Jones: outsmarted the sea, escaped drowning; see 361. blind moon: dark side of the moon; new moon. Across the world for a wife: see 531. Alice Ben Bolt: from “Ben Bolt,” a song by Thomas Dunn English, music by Nelson Kneass. Enoch Arde: 1864 Tennyson narrative poem. Rip Van Winkle: see 360. does anybody […] Caoc O’Leary:

after “Caoch the Piper,” Irish ballad by John Keegan (1809–49). poor John Casey: John Keegan Casey (1846–70), poet, Fenian; Bloom confuses him with the previous Keegan. The face at the window!: 1897 play by F. Brooke Warren. grass widow: woman with an absent husband; see 128. Rocked in the cradle of the deep: 1832 song by Emma Willard, music by Joseph Philip Knight. Chubb: blockhead. Tomkin: little Tom. post mortem child: child born after its father’s death. With a high ro! […] O!: from the sailor song, “Galloping Randy Dandy O.” chaw: a quid of tobacco. Rosevean: see 240. A. B. S.: Able Bodied Seaman.

581 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 765

G 16:460

G 16:480

South America. We was chased by pirates one voyage. I seen icebergs (G, inclusion). growlers: small icebergs. Captain Dalton: basis in 1904 Dublin unknown. the best bloody man that ever scuttled a ship: from Byron’s Don Juan, canto 3, stanza 41. Gospodi pomilooy: godspodin pomilyou, Old Church Slavonic, “Lord have mercy on us.” Choza de Indios Beni, Bolivia: choza de indios, Spanish, “Indians’ hut”; El Beni, province in Bolivia east of the Andes. osier: willow

used in basketwork. tarpaulin: nickname for a sailor. diddies: Hiberno-English, woman’s breasts. Glass. That boggles ’em: from English explorer John Smith’s (c.1580–1631) General Historie of Virginia, New England and the Summer Isles. Tarjeta Postal: Spanish, “postcard.” Boudin: French, “sausage”; derogatory for corpulent women. Galeria Becche: Becche Art Gallery. William Tell: see 285. Lazarillo-Don Cesar de Bazan incident depicted in Maritana: from Act III of Maritana.

766 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 582

G 16:500

G 16:520

boxed the compass: named the thirty-two points of the compass forwards and backwards; to adapt to one’s circumstances. q.t.: see 146. Wednesday or Saturday […] via long sea: Steam Packet Company trips between Dublin and London on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Holyhead: in northwestern Wales. Egan: Alfred W. Egan, secretary of the Dublin offices of the Steam Packet Company. planking down the needful: deposit necessary money. breaking Boyd’s heart: taking a financial risk; after Walter J. Boyd (b.1833), judge of the Court of Bankruptcy Ireland. Plymouth, Falmouth, Southampton: portcalls on

the route of aforementioned sailings. our modern Babylon: London, due to its wealth and luxury. Park lane: in Mayfair, a fashionable district. Eastbourne, Scarborough, Margate […] Bournemouth, the Channel Islands: English coastal resort towns; the Channel Islands are off the coast of Normandy. bijou spots: luxurious. hole and corner: underhand or secret. scratch: hastily assembled. Elster Grimes: see 89. Moody-Manners: London-based opera company formed in 1898 by Charles Manners (1857–1935), Irish bass singer, and his wife Fanny Moody, an English soprano. that was the rub: see 569.

583 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 767

G 16:540

G 16:560

Fishguard–Rosslare route: Great Western Railway steamship service between Wales and Ireland. on the tapis: rumored; tapis, French, “carpet.” circumlocution departments: cliché for inefficient government offices; from Charles Dickens’s Little Dorrit. effete: exhausted, worn out. average man, i.e. Brown, Robinson and Co.: “the man in the street,” according to Punch magazine. being always and ever cooped up (G, inclusion). Poulaphouca: see 511. farther away from the madding crowd: from the Thomas Gray poem, “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard,” (1751); Thomas Hardy novel, Far from

the Madding Crowd (1874). wheelmen: cyclists. wilds of Donegal: see 328. coup d’œil: French, “general view.” Howth: port of entry for Dublin in the Middle Ages. Silken Thomas: seized Howth during his short rebellion. George IV: (1762–1830; r.1820–30) King of England; landed at Howth on his visit to Ireland August 12, 1821. several hundred feet above sealevel: the Hill of Howth summit is 563 feet above sea level. in the spring when young men’s fancy: from Tennyson’s “Locksley Hall,” (1842). on their left leg: (slang) on the spur of the moment. from the pillar: see 92, 112.

768 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 584

G 16:580

G 16:600

doughty: brave, bold, resolute. knockingshop: (slang) brothel. tryon: (slang) attempt to best someone. Prepare to meet your God: from Amos 4:12. dénouement: French, “unraveling”; culmination. done by foreigners: Irish-Americans, or assassins from the Continent were suspected because of the use of knives. where ignorance is bliss: from Thomas Gray’s “Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College” (1747). entre nous:

French, “between us.” the keeper, not turning a hair, was drawing spurts (G, inclusion). beggaring description: from Antony and Cleopatra (ii.ii.202–203). in pensive mood: from Wordsworth’s “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” (1807). well as yesterday, roughly some score of years (G, inclusion). days of the land troubles: the period of Irish agrarian agitation, or Land War.

585 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 769

G 16:620

G 16:640

fifteen: Bloom was born some time in 1866; see 130. Europa point: the Rock of Gibraltar. Mr Bloom interpolated: Mr B interrogated (G, correction). Salt junk: hard, salted beef, a seaman’s typical meal; rhyming slang for drunk. to rule the waves: from the ode “Rule Britannia.” North Bull at Dollymount: sand island off Dollymount connected to the mainland by the Bull Wall. salt: sailor. staring quite

obviously: staring quite obliviously (G, correction). fresh woods and pastures new as someone somewhere sings: from Milton’s “Lycidas,” and Byron’s Don Juan. to find out the secret for himself: echoes “The Secret of the Sea” (1841), by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–82). lifeboat Sunday: annual fundraising event held by the Royal National Lifeboat Institution.

770 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 586

G 16:660

G 16:680

Ireland expects that every man: Nelson at Trafalgar; see 216. Kish: see 44, 64. the Rover: derived from “The Irish Rover,” song by J. M. Crofts. Henry Campbell: Dublin town clerk from 1893 to 1920. carking: burdensome or distressing. nosepaint: (slang)

liquor. Skibbereen father: from “Old Skibbereen,” an anonymous Irish ballad. the figure 16: Stuart Gilbert notes the association, in a Neapolitan homosexual context, of the numbers 6 and 16 with two forms of coitus.

587 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 771

G 16:700

G 16:720

the number. Ate. A Greek he was (G, inclusion). As bad as old […] on my ownio: from “Has Anybody Here Seen Kelly?”; see 94. pink sheet of the Abbey street organ: Evening Telegraph; see 121. Bewley and Draper’s: general merchants, manufacturers of mineral

waters, wholesale wine merchants and druggists, and ink manufacturers, 23–27 Mary Street. love me, love my dirty shirt: after the proverb, “love me, love my dog.” tenterhooks: hooks or nails in a row along a frame to stretch cloth for treatment.

772 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 588

G 16:740

G 16:760.

gunboat: (slang) thief, rascal, beggar; beggarly prostitute. Lock Hospital: see 489. Fear not them that […] to buy the soul: after Matthew 10:28. instanter: Latin, immediately. inventions as X rays: see 171. it is a simple substance and therefore

incorruptible: from Thomas Aquinas’s Summa Theologica. immortal, I understand, but for the possibility of its annihilation by its First Cause: see 38. corruptio per se and corruptio per accidens: Latin, “corruption by itself ” and “corruption by accident.”

589 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 773

G 16:780

for mentlal read mental

sublunary: inferior, earthly. demurrer: objection or exception to something. Röngten: discoverer of X-rays; see 171. Edison: Thomas Alva Edison (1847–1931), American inventor. Galileo: Galileo Galilei (1564– 1642), Italian scientist; the telescope was invented earlier

but he was among the first to use it to observe the stars. sticking to his original point with a smile of unbelief. I’m not so sure (G, inclusion). in toto: Latin, “entirely.” our national poet: Shakespeare. Hamlet and Bacon: see 187. Coffee Palace: see 258.

774 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 590

G 16:800

G 16:820

Sulphate of copper poison, S O4: CuSO4, copper sulphate; used as a herbicide, fungicide, and pesticide. Dr Tibble’s Vi-Cocoa: 60–62 Bunhill Row, London; Dr. William Tibbles (1859–1928), specialist in Dietetics and the Disease of Nutrition, and Metabolism. good genius: personal protective spirit (Brewer). sine qua non: Latin, “without which not”; essential requirement.

that knife […] reminds me of Roman history: Julius Caesar’s assasination, for example; see 25. Our mutual friend’s: Charles Dickens’s 1865 novel. sotto voce: Italian, “in a low voice.” Sherlockholmesing: see 467. jail delivery: release or escape from prison. oakum and treadmill fraternity: prison, as prisoners often picked oakum and were punished on treadmills.

591 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 775

G 16:840

G 16:860

dramatic personage […] of our national poet: several Antonios appear in Shakespeare’s works, including Antonio from The Merchant of Venice. ancient mariner: Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (1798). draw the long bow: exaggerate, tell a tall tale. schooner Hesperus: after Longfellow’s “The Wreck of the Hesperus.” Marcella, the midget queen: “Her Royal Highness Marcella, Queen of Midgets, the Smallest and Prettiest Little Vocalist,” stage name of Elizabeth Paddock (c.1875–1955). waxworks in Henry street: Henry Street Waxworks, 30 Henry Street.

Sinbad: character from Arabian Nights stories. Ludwig, alias Ledwige: William Ledwidge (1847–1923), Irish baritone, stage name, Ludwig. Flying Dutchman: production of Wagner’s opera, Der Fliegende Holländer (1840–41) put forth by the Carl Rosa Opera Company, with Ledwige in the title role. little Italy there, near the Coombe: small Italian neighborhood of Dublin. pothunting: hunting for sustenance; see 153. harmless necessary animal: after The Merchant of Venice (iv.i.55). tuckink: tuckin (slang) a good meal, a feast. de rigueur: French, “obligatory.”

776 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 592

G 16:880

G 16:900

Old Nick: the devil; see 382. quietus: release, death; from Hamlet (iii.i.75–76). born in (technically) Spain, i.e. Gibraltar: Gibraltar was taken from Spain by Anglo-Dutch forces in 1704 and became a territory of Great Britain in 1713. Roberto ruba roba sua: Italian, “Roberto steals his things.” Dante and the isosceles […] fell in love with: Beatrice Portinari (1266–90), Florentine woman, wife of Simone de Bardi, and object of Dante’s idealizing love. Leonardo: Leonardo da Vinci (1452–1519), Florentine artist, sculptor,

and engineer. san Tommaso Mastino: St Thomas Aquinas; mastino, Italian, “mastiff”; see 199. washed in the blood of the sun: after Dowie’s flyer; see 144. doubled: to sail or pass round or to the other side of. pious medal: possibly a St Christopher’s medal. Norwegian barque: the Palme, a Finnish ship, ran aground off Blackrock in 1895. Henry Campbell: see 586. Albert William Quill: Dublin barrister and author of the poem, “The Storm of Christmas Eve 1895.”

593 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 777

G 16:920

G 16:940

s. s. Lady Cairns […] Mona: incident between the Mona, a German ship, and the Lady Cairns, a British ship, in the waters east of Dublin Bay’s Kish Lightship on March 20, 1904. ship’s rum: naval rum, or grog. old stager: see 110. the watcher of the corporation stones who (G, inclusion). on the parish rates:

dependent on the Poor Rate, a tax raised to help support the poor. Pat Tobin: Patrick Tobin, secretary to the Paving Committee of the Dublin Corporation, 2 North St Vincent Street. in the arms of Morpheus: asleep; Morpheus is the god of dreams.

778 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 594

G 16:960

G 16:980

hard times: hard lines (G, correction). make general ducks and drakes of: squander a family inheritance. stiver: (slang) coin of small value. Palgrave Murphy boat: Palgrave, Murphy, and Co., Dublin steamship proprietors, 17 Eden Quay. Alexandria Basin: dock on the Liffey. au fait: French, “acquainted with.” ship […] Galway Bay: the Indian Empire ran aground on the Santa Marguerita Rock in Galway Bay in 1858. Worthington: Robert Worthington, Dublin railroad contractor and promoter of the Galway Harbour Scheme. Ask her captain: Ask the then captain (G, correction). palmoil: bribery; see 230. Captain John Lever: John Orrell

Lever, Manchester businessman, founder of the Galway Harbour company, and owner of the ships of the GalwayHalifax route. potation: consumption of alcoholic drink. fagend: the very end. seconds: musical intervals two semitones above or below a given note; the term is used loosely by the narrator as “singing in seconds or thirds,” usually refers to singing in harmony. thirds: musical intervals four semitones above or below a given note. liquid fire: bad whiskey. son of a seacook: nautical term of abuse. The biscuits […] Johnny Lever, O!: after the anonymous sea shanty, “Leave Her, Johnny, Leave Her.” as salt as Lot’s wife’s arse: Genesis 19:24–26; see 147.

595 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 779

G 16:1000

G 16:1020

philippic: bitter attack. coal in large quantities: average Irish annual production of coal was meagre when compared to English production. Colonel Everard […] growing tobacco: Colonel N. T. Everard grew tobacco experimentally at his farm in Randlestown, near Navan, County Meath. pelf: stolen goods. the Germans and the Japs […] their little lookin: Germany and Japan were perceived as a growing threat to the British Empire in 1904.

The Boers were the beginning of the end: the Boer War was a turning point in the fortunes of the British Empire. Brummagem: local vulgar form of Birmingham, England. Ireland, her Achilles heel: from Coleridge’s The Friend and from the “Preface for Politicians,” in John Bull’s Other Island (1906), by George Bernard Shaw. Ireland, Parnell said […] one of her sons: in response to the prospect of partition, Parnell remarked “We cannot afford to lose a single Irishman.”

780 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 596

G 16:1040

Jem Mullins: James Mullin (1846–1919), Irish physician, patriot, born in County Tyrone. pending that consummation […] be wished for: from Hamlet (iii.i.56, 63–64). sister island: epithet for England. chummies: chimneysweeps’ assistants; see 92. being on all fours with: be on a level with; to conform

with. felonsetting: informing the British about rebels. Dannyman: informer, betrayer; after Danny Mann, a character in Gerald Griffin’s (1803–40) The Collegians (1829). coning forward: coming forward (G, correction).

597 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 781

G 16:1060

for he man read the man

G 16:1080 for eventempored read eventempered

mortal (he man having had: mortal (he having had (G, correction). plea some legal luminary saved his skin on: Fitzharris was found guilty of being an accessory after the fact in a second trial; his Honor Richard Adams, was the “legal luminary”; see 132. on the scaffolding high: see 155. snapping at the bone: from the Aesop fable, “The Dog and His Shadow.” Mr

Johnny Lever: the sailor Murphy; see 594. Old Ireland tavern: the Old Ireland Hotel and Tavern, 10 North Wall Quay. come back to Erin: song; see 328. A soft answer turns away wrath: from Proverbs 15:1. Ex quibus […] Christus […] secunum carnem: Latin, “and from that race is Christ, according to the flesh,” from the Vulgate, Romans 9:5.

782 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 598

G 16:1100

G 16:1120

they say, our own distressful included, has the government it deserves: from Lettres et opuscules inédits by the political writer Joseph Marie, Comte de Maistre (1753–1821); for “distressful country”; see 44. bloody bridge battle: the site of a bloody episode where four saboteurs were killed; see 242. between skinner’s alley and Ormond market: Ormond Bridge was the site of faction fights between artisans and apprentices in the eighteenth century. bump of combativeness: in phrenology, above the bone behind the ears. punctilio: fine point of conduct. They accuse: evokes Émile Zola’s (1840–1902) J’Accuse

(“I accuse”). Spain decayed when the inquisition hounded the jews out: Jews and Muslims were expelled during the Spanish Inquisition, with the loss of industry. England prospered when Cromwell […] imported them: expelled in 1290 during Edward I’s reign, Jews were allowed to return under Oliver Cromwell. Spain again […] with goahead America: the 1898 Spanish–American War signaled the end of Spanish imperial power. Turks, it’s in the dogma: Bloom’s belief that Turks, as Muslims, value death in battle. juggle: trick or act of skill. to raise the wind: to raise money.

599 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 783

G 16:1140

G 16:1160

pro rata: pro rata parte, Latin, “in proportion.” Ubi patria […] vita bene: Latin, “Where my country [is, there is] the good life.” Alma Mater: Latin, “nourishing mother”; former school. changing colour like those

crabs about Ringsend in the morning: during his walk on Sandymount Strand. pro. tem.: abbreviation of pro tempore, Latin, “for the time being.” faubourg Saint-Patrice: French, “Saint Patrick’s Suburb.”

784 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 600

for which some asperity read with some asperity

G 16:1180

for esthetesand read esthetes and G 16:1200

O’Callaghan: possibly a medical student known to Joyce. rotto: (slang) drunk. strong hint to a blind horse: a blow of a club. John Mallon: (1839–1915), Assistant Commissioner of the Dublin Metropolitan Police; Lower Castle Yard, headquarters of the DMP. section two of the Criminal Law Amendment Act: prohibits “soliciting women for unlawful sexual liaisons”; may be confused with section II, which prohibits homosexual acts. six sixteen: see 586. the

tattoo which was all the go in the seventies or thereabouts: tattooing was fashionable among the English upper classes and nobility in the nineteenth century. upper ten: the wealthy few, the aristocracy. Cornwall case: possibly, a Dublin Castle scandal involving a homosexual circle. Mrs Grundy: an example of middle-class propriety, from Speed the Plough (1798), a play by Thomas Morton (c.1764–1838).

601 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 785

G 16:1220

G 16:11240

filip: something to excite or animate. not caring a continental: not caring at all. submerged tenth: the part of the population in perpetual poverty; from In Darkest England, and the Way Out (1890), by William Booth, founder of the Salvation Army. To improve the shining hour: from “Against Idleness,” poem by Isaac Watts (1674–1748), English theologian. pink edition, extra sporting: Evening Telegraph edition with a summary of sporting results. rebus: cryptic representation of a word or phrase by pictures and

symbols. H. du Boyes: agent for Williams’s Type Writer and Supplies, 5 Upper Ormond Quay. Great battle Tokio: from the June 16, 1904 Evening Telegraph article, “THE WAR. / BIG BATTLE AT TELISSA.” Lovemaking in Irish £200 damages: “GAELIC LEAGUE AND LOVE AFFAIRS.” Emigration swindle: see 123. His Grace William: William J. Walsh, Archbishop of Dublin; see 114. Ascot meeting, the Gold Cup. Victory of outsider Throwaway recalls Derby of ’92 when

Captain Marshall’s dark horse (G, inclusion): Lord Bradford’s, not Captain Marshall’s, Sir Hugo, won the 1892 Derby at 40–1 odds. New York disaster, thousand lives lost: “APPALLING AMERICAN DISASTER. / EXCURSION STEAMER ON FIRE. / 485 BODIES RECOVERED”; see 174. Foot and Mouth. Funeral of the late Mr Patrick Dignam: the actual Evening Telegraph of June 16, 1904 did not feature a letter on foot and mouth or a funeral resembling Dignam’s.

786 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 602

for Simon Dedalus, B.A. read Simon Dedalus, Stephen Dedalus B.A. G 16:1260 for L. Bloom read L. Boom

G 16:1280

a gay sendoff. Or a change of address anyway. —This morning (G, inclusion). nº 9 Newbridge Avenue, Sandymount: unoccupied in 1904. Monks the dayfather about Keyes’s ad: see 116, 118. Simon Dedalus, Stephen Dedalus B. A. (G, inclusion). L. Bloom: L. Boom (G, correction). C. P. M’Coy: see 72. is that first epistle to the Hebrews: there is only one. open thy mouth and put thy foot in it: pun on

foot-and-mouth disease. third event at Ascot on page three: account of the Gold Cup race. side-value: side. Value (G, correction). 1,000 sovs., with 3,000 sovs. in specie added for entire colts and fillies: distribution of winnings among the top three horses. 20 to 1 Throwaway (off). Sceptre a shade heavier, 5 to 4 on Zinfandel, 20 to 1 Throwaway (off). Throwaway and Zinfandel (G, inclusion).

603 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 787

G 16:1300

for fiinger read finger

G 16:1320

buncombe: see 303. Maximum II: horse from the Gold Cup; owned by J. de Bremond. Lovemaking damages: see 601. Return of Parnell: see 108. Committee Room nº 15: site of the meeting in the British Houses of Parliament of the Irish Parliamentary Party over Parnell’s affair on December 6, 1890. The coffin they brought over was full of stones: see 108. a case of tarbarrels: used for bonfires during executions of criminals. Either he petered out too tamely of acute pneumonia: Parnell’s death certificate lists rheumatic fever, excessive fever,

and a weak heart. just when his various different political arrangements were nearing completion: Parnell had been replaced as leader of the Irish Parliamentary Party. failing to consult a specialist: Parnell reportedly declined to pay for the visit of a London specialist. nobody being acquainted with his movements even before: Parnell’s affair with Katharine O’Shea had not been known to the general public. Alice, where art thou: song by Wellington Guernsey and Joseph Ascher. aliases such as Fox and Stewart: see 464.

788 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 604

G 16:1340

G 16:1360

ruled the roost after: Timothy Healy, John Redmond, see 556, and Justin McCarthy, see 556, subsequently led the party. idol with feet of clay: after Daniel 2:42. seventytwo of his trusty henchmen rounding on him: the seventy-two members of the Irish Parliamentary Party met in Committee Room 15, forty-five voting against Parnell; see 363. they broke up […] United Ireland: the anti-Parnell faction temporarily occupied the offices of the United Ireland, although they did not break up the type, and went on to found the Insuppressible.

like the claimant in the Tichborne case: case of faked identity involving Arthur Orton (1834–98) who claimed to be Roger Charles Tichborne (1829–54), the heir of Sir James Francis Tichborne (1784–1862). That bitch, that English whore: Katharine O’Shea. shebeen: unlicensed bar. plenty of her. She loosened many a man’s thighs. I seen her picture (G, inclusion). husband was a captain or an officer: Captain William Henry O’Shea (1840–1905), an officer in the 18th Hussars. a cottonball one: fake; see 315.

605 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 789

G 16:1380

the usual affectionate letters: their letters became evidence at the November 1890 divorce trial. scrambling out of an upstairs apartment: the O’Shea’s cook testified that Parnell had escaped with a rope fire escape. lubric: wanton or lascivious. farewell,

my gallant captain: from Maritana; see 83. the 18th hussars: see 604. his beloved evicted tenants: Parnell’s clients; see 468. heaping coals of fire on his head: from Romans 12:20.

790 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 606

G 16:1400

G 16:1420

fabled ass’s kick: from Aesop’s fable “The Ass and the Wolf.” she also was Spanish or half so: Katharine O’Shea was not Spanish though the O’Sheas lived in Spain for a short time. glowing bosom said to Stephen, about blood and the sun. And, if I don’t greatly mistake (G, inclusion). The king of Spain’s daughter: from the nursery rhyme; see 552.

farewell and adieu to you Spanish onions and the first land […]: after an anonymous Spanish ballad, “Spanish Ladies.” Sweets of: Sweets of Sin; see 226. various contents it contained rapidly finally he (G, inclusion). In old Madrid: song; see 264. Lafayette of Westmoreland street: see 397.

605 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 791

G 16:1440

G 16:1460

barely sweet sixteen: from the popular ballad, “When You Were Sweet Sixteen” (1898), by James Thornton. Saint Joseph’s sovereign thievery alors (Bandez!) Figne toi trop. Whereas no photo could (G, inclusion). Jack Tar’s: sailor; see 581. heaving embonpoint: bosom; see 226. I looked for the

lamp which she told me: from “The Song of O’Ruark, Prince of Breffini,” in Irish Melodies by Thomas Moore. book about Ruby with met him pike hoses (sic): see 62. with apologies to Lindley Murray: (1745–1826), American Quaker minister, author of Grammar of the English Language (1795).

792 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 84

G 16:1480

G 16:1500 for prinitng worsk read printing works for occuaption read occupation

decree nisi […] absolute: court-granted decree to take effect at a specified date, in this case regarding the O’Sheas’ divorce; see 310. Erin’s uncrowned king: Parnell (earlier, Daniel O’Connell). O’Brienite scribes: William O’Brien (1852–1928), editor of the United Ireland, in America at the time of the United

Ireland disputes, who took an anti-Parnell position. palpably a radically altered man: Parnell’s appearance was reported to show the effects of his tribulations. His hat (Parnell’s) a silk one was inadvertently (G, inclusion).

85 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 793

G 16:1520

G 16:1540

stake in the country: the estate of Avondale in County Wicklow, an inheritance from Parnell’s father. ornament of the legal profession: person who enhances or adds distinction to his or her sphere, here the solicitor John Henry Menton. left him alone in his glory: from “The Burial of Sir John Moore at Corunna” (1817), poem by Charles

Wolfe (1791–1823), Irish poet. the legitimate husband happened to be a party to it: Captain O’Shea knew of his wife’s affair, according to existing evidence. boy Jones: secret informant. promising to sever the connection: Captain O’Shea testified as much during the divorce trial but there is doubt about this claim.

794 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 610

delete when G 16:1560

delete comma after Bloom G 16:1580

conditio sine qua non: Latin, “the indispensable condition.” Miss Ferguson: see 565. rooked: cheated or swindled. eggflip: eggnog. Humpty Dumpty: meaning an egg. Buckshot Foster days: William Edward “Buckshot” Forster (1818–86) English parliamentarian and Irish Chief Secretary; nicknamed

for his decision to have the Royal Irish Constabulary use buckshot instead of ball cartridges during disturbances. evicted tenants questions: see 468, 584. twitted: ridiculed. step further than Michael Davitt: see 556. in so barefaced a fashion by our friend at the gathering (G, inclusion).

611 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 795

G 16:1600

for pu read put G 16:1620

for top erceive read to perceive

destruction of the fittest: reversal of Spencer’s phrase; see 399. Ontario Terrace: in Rathmines, south of the Grand Canal. Sandymount or Sandycove: Stephen’s Martello Tower is in Sandycove. cup of Epps’s cocoa: Epp’s Cocoa, manufactured by James Epps and Company of Holland Street, Blackfriars, London. that merry old soul: after the

nursery rhyme “Old King Cole was a merry old soul.” grasswidower: man separated from his wife; see 128. bawdyhouse of retired beauties where age was no bar off Sheriff street lower (G, inclusion): a rundown area east of the Amiens Street railway station, north of the docks. mermaids’: archaic expression for sex workers.

796 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 612

G 16:1640

G 16:1660

potheen: Hiberno-English, home-made illicit spirits, distilled from potatoes in a little pot. blarney: flattering or cajoling talk; see 141. blood and ouns: Medieval oath; see 3. the most vulnerable point of tender Achilles: Ireland; see 595. Carrick-on-Shannon: provincial town in County Leitrim. You can’t drink that stuff. Do you like cocoa? Wait. (G, inclusion). prize titbits: sensationalist tabloid penny-weekly

digest; see 65. hydros: hydropathic establishments, spas that offered hydrotherapy. the former viceroy, Earl Cadogan: George Henry Cadogan (1840–1915), fifth Earl Cadogan, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland (1895–1902). Sir Anthony MacDonnell: Sir Antony MacDonnell, Under-Secretary to Ireland, residing at the undersecretary’s lodge in Phoenix Park. the ancient mariner: from Coleridge’s poem; see 591.

613 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 797

G 16:1680

G 16:1700

The Arabian Nights Entertainment: or, The Thousand and One Nights, collection of medieval Arabic stories, published in English by Sir Richard Burton in 1885–88. Red as a Rose is She: 1870 novel by Rhoda Broughton (1840–1920). found drowned: story headlined “Rescue from Drowning,” in the June 16, 1904 edition of the Evening Telegraph. King Willow: cricket, after willow

cricket bats. Iremonger having made a hundred and something second wicket: cricket match featured in the June 16, 1904 edition of the Evening Telegraph. the last of the Mohicans: James Fenimore Cooper’s 1826 novel; in “Cyclops” catalogue, 285. for all who ran to read: from Habakkuk 2:2. confectionery d°: confectionery do (G, correction), abbreviation, “ditto.”

798 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 614

G 16:1720

G 16:1740

arms of Murphy: to be asleep (after Morpheus). dreaming of fresh fields and pastures new: see 585. eighty odd constituencies: Parnellites held 86 of 103 parliamentary constituencies in Ireland in 1890. Mercadante’s Huguenots […] Words on the Cross: Bloom scrambles Mercadante’s Seven Last Words on the Cross, see 79, with Meyerbeer’s Huguenots, see 160. Mozart’s Twelfth Mass […] the Gloria: Müller’s

Gloria was misattributed to Mozart; see 79. Moody and Sankey hymns: Dwight L. Moody (1837–99), Ira D. Sankey (1840–1908), American evangelists; edited collections of Protestant hymns. Bid me to live […] protestant to be: from “To Anthea, Who May Command Him in Anything” (1648), poem by Robert Herrick. Rossini’s Stabat Mater: see 79.

615 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 799

G 16:1760

G 16:1780

jesuit fathers’ church: Church of St Francis Xavier, Upper Gardiner street. Martha: see 113. Mendelssohn: see 327; not typically thought of in the “severe classical school.” Shakespeare’s songs: music written by others. lutenist Dowland: John Dowland (1562–1626), composer of Songs or Ayres; see 193. anno ludendo hausi, Doulandus: Latin, “Dowland, I exhausted my years in playing.” Arnold Dolmetsch: (1858–1940) French-born, London-based musician and instrument-maker. Farnaby and son: Giles Farnaby (c.1560–1600), Richard Farnaby (b.1590), English Renaissance composers and musicians. dux and comes: Latin, “leader” and “companion.” Byrd

(William): (1543–1623), composer, Queen Elizabeth’s chapel Royal organist. virginals: musical instrument resembling a spinet. Tomkins: Thomas Tomkin (1573–1656), student of Byrd, organist, and composer. toy: light tune. John Bull: (c.1562–1628) English organist, composer, and professor of music at Oxford. John Bull the political celebrity: personification of the English nation. fourwalker: horse whose feet are never coordinated in a gait. hipshaker: horse with one hip lower than the other. black buttocker: a horse that is always being overtaken. putting his hind foot foremost: after the expression, putting one’s best foot foremost.

800 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 616

G 16:1800

G 16:1820

noodly: foolish. barring the bees: from a sixteenth century belief about bees’ superior communal organization. alligator, tickle: belly rubbing immobilizes an alligator. chalk […] rooster: a line drawn in front of a prone chicken’s eyes hypnotizes it. tiger, my eagle eye: eye contact can deter a tiger’s attack. brutes of the field: from Genesis 2:20. indubitable: insatiable (G, correction). Lady Fingall’s Irish industries concert: Lady Dudley and Countess of Fingall, Elizabeth Mary Margaret Plunkett, held a concert on May 4, 1904, at the Irish Industries Association, 21 Lincoln Place; Joyce performed there.

Youth here has End […] Dutchman of Amsterdam: “Mein Junges Leben hat ein End” by Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck (1562–1621), Dutch organist and composer. frows: phonetically in Dutch or German, women; (slang) idle, dirty woman. Johannes Jeep: (c.1582–1650) German composer. Von der Sirenen […] die Poeten dichten: German, “Of the sirens’ craftiness do the poets rhyme”; from Johannes Jeep’s “Dulcia dum loquitur cogitat insidias,” Latin, “The charm while they are talking is thought treacherous.” extempore: Latin, “spontaneously.”

617 · “Eumaeus”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 801

G 16:1840 for pecunair y read pecuniary

G 16:1860

Baraclough: Dublin professor of singing; see 266. tyro: beginner. conversaziones: evening meetings for conversation, music, or games. flutter in the dovecotes: from Coriolanus (v.vi.113–15). Ivan St

Austell and Hilton St Just: members of the Arthur Rousbey Opera Company in the 1890s. genus omne: Latin, “all that sort.” King street house: the Gaiety Theatre, 48–49 South King Street; see 89.

802 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Eumaeus” · 618

G 16:1880

for sest read seat

fools step in where angels: after Alexander Pope’s Essay on Criticism (1711). his scythed car: the sweeper’s car is likened, because of his brushes, to the war chariots with scythed wheels of ancient Britons and Celts. contretemps: dispute. Und alle Schiffe brücken:

German, “and all the ships are bridged”; from Johannes Jeep’s “Welches das Schiff in Unglück bringt” (“Which the ship in mishap brings”). as he sat on his lowbacked car […]: from “The Low Back’d Car,” by Samuel Lover.

17 ·“ITHACA” Fritz Senn

“Ithaca” is the second longest episode in Ulysses and was, just after “Penelope,” the last to be finished, with last-minute additions right into January 1922, days before the novel’s publication. It is unique even in its visual appearance of paired question and answer units in an arid style, separated by empty space. Joyce called the technique “catechism” (L I 159), after the genre with which the Catholic Church declares its dogmatic truths.1 The action covered in this episode is, again, unspectacular. In “Oxen of the Sun,” Bloom and Stephen Dedalus came into chance proximity in the Maternity Hospital and from there Bloom, motivated by a protective instinct, followed Stephen into the Nighttown of “Circe” and rescued him from a brawl and a possible arrest. In “Eumaeus,” the two visited a cabman’s shelter for some feeble coffee, Bloom at his most persistent in trying to engage his new intellectual companion in talk. “Ithaca” begins with them walking to Eccles Street, where Bloom, without his key, gains indirect entrance via the cellar area. He invites Stephen down to the kitchen, where the conversation slowly becomes less one-sided. Bloom and Stephen discuss recent events, their mutual background, their differences and relationships. Stephen hesitantly accepts the cocoa offered by his host but declines an invitation to stay the night. An arrangement is made to resume their tenu1  See, for example, Robert Hampson, “‘Allowing for Possible Error’: Education and Catechism in ‘Ithaca,’” in Joyce’s “Ithaca,” ed. Andrew Gibson (Amsterdam and Atlanta, GA: Rodopi, 1996), 229–67.

ous contact, but it remains doubtful whether Stephen will act upon it. After contemplating the constellations and making water side by side with Bloom in his back garden, Stephen disappears into the night and is absent from the rest of the book, while Bloom, finally alone again, undresses and meditates, with vague schemes about an ideal home and thoughts on the past day and his wife’s affair, in which he has been silently conniving. After extended reflections, he, an Odysseus in no hurry to return to his wife’s bed, wakes her up and submits to an interrogation concerning his activities. Deservedly tired after an exhausting day, he falls asleep while Molly Bloom begins her long monologue. With not much by way of action, the episode’s emphasis is again on the manner of its telling. As in “Eumaeus,” it is not easy to discern what is mere thought and what is actually spoken. The episode reaches beyond what Bloom or Stephen could possibly have in their minds, so that much information is drawn from a meta-level, in what we can understand as a kind of narrative omni-science. It is always worth looking at what Joyce himself said about his work. He wrote to Frank Budgen in February 1921: I am writing Ithaca in the form of a mathematical catechism. All events are resolved into their cosmic physical psychical etc. equivalents […] so that not only will the reader know everything and know it in the baldest and coldest way, but Bloom and Stephen thereby become heavenly bodies, wanderers like the stars at which they gaze. (L I 159–60)

804 · Fritz Senn

29 7 Eccles Street area

At that time, Joyce was beginning the chapter and could not foresee the ample modifications he would go on to make. Readers will, in fact, not know everything; for example, they learn next to nothing about Bloom’s mother, his birthday, or the exact nature of his father’s suicide, although they do learn a lot about such things as the junk in a drawer, the Dublin ­water supply system, and the addresses of Dublin shops. In tune with Bloom’s astronomical interests, “Ithaca” widens out from Dublin into the cosmos and places its provincial events within constellations and galaxies. In Joyce’s words to Budgen, Bloom and Stephen “become heavenly bodies, wanderers like the stars”; in Greek, planets are planêtês, “wanderers.” Homer describes Odysseus as wandering, “plagchthê,”

from the same root.2 In “Ithaca,” the planets are “evermoving wanderers from ­ immeasurably remote eons to infinitely remote futures” (651; 17:1053–54). Bloom, too, imagines ­himself in outer space: “Ever he would ­wander, selfcompelled, to the extreme limit of his cometary orbit, beyond the fixed stars and variable suns and telescopic planets, astronomical waifs and strays, to the extreme boundary of space” (680; 17:2013–15). From the universal perspective of “Ithaca,” human creatures are homeless travelers.

2  Homer, The Odyssey, with an English translation by A. T. Murray, 2 vols. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1960, 1975), Book 1; line 1. Hereafter, cited parenthetically.

“Ithaca” · 805

17 Cabman’s shelter to Eccles Street

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After sixteen chapters, readers may expect something in the way of climax, clarification, or resolution in this episode. What does the meeting of the two main characters amount to? Will it change Stephen so that he might become an author, perhaps the author of the book he is in? Does Bloom find a son? Does he become the father that Stephen is supposed to be looking for? The impassive episode does not seem to answer, or to care. Where does the “atonement” (681; 17:2058), or at-one-ment, manifest itself, if at all? These may be our problems, not the text’s. Our guesses depend on symbolic interpretations. Significance has been found in the Epp’s cocoa Bloom makes for Stephen, a “massproduct” (629; 17:369) that reprises the Catholic mass that mockingly opens the book.3 But then, what are we to make of Stephen, who has been cared for with such devotion, singing an offensively anti-Semitic song in his host’s kitchen? Is there meaning in their simultaneous micturition or in the episode’s ­ecclesiastical overtones (650; 17:1021)? This chapter, replete with information, does not seem to concern itself with what readers may think worth knowing. Joyce, here perhaps more than elsewhere, toys with our expectations. In the helpful but potentially misleading Odyssean schemata that he circulated privately, Joyce called this penultimate episode “Ithaca.” After twenty years, Odysseus returns to the island of Ithaka, where the second half of the epic takes place (Books 13–24). The Homeric analogies are complex, refracted, and in part reversed in Joyce’s episode. Odysseus’s killing of more than a hundred suitors, the major act in the Odyssey, is transposed only very loosely in Bloom’s dealing with his jealousy from a reasonable distance; his “equanimity” (684; 17:2155) is the equivalent of the episode’s aloof neutrality. One of the most dramatic moments in the Odyssey features bathetically in Ulysses: Penelope announces that she will marry the man who can string Odysseus’s bow and shoot 3  “Stephen receives the body of his ‘host’ […] Not only host but priest, officiating in a kind of Mass […] Bloom creates the host, a ‘massproduct, the creature cocoa.’” Cocoa, “theobroma” is “Greek for ‘god food’”; William York Tindall, A Reader’s Guide to James Joyce (New York: Noonday Press, 1959), 222.

an arrow through twelve axe-sockets; the suitors fail but Odysseus, disguised as a beggar, succeeds and begins the slaughter. This Trial of the Bow is split into the “eggsniping” adventure of a highly unlikely Simon Dedalus shooting two eggs in a circus act in “Eumaeus,” and the account of Bloom as the Olympian champion in a contest of altitudinous urination in “Ithaca.” Contrary to what happens in the epic, Bloom is not disguised in “Ithaca,” so there are no recognition scenes such as those between Odysseus and his son, his dog Argos, and, finally, Penelope. Bloom’s “cicatrice” from a beesting (663; 17:1447) marginally corresponds to the scar (oulê, Odyssey 19:464) Odysseus notably received from a wild boar, but it does not identify him. In the Odyssey, Telemachus first meets his father in the hut of Eumaios; Odysseus knows that someone familiar is arriving as he hears footsteps, but the dogs are not barking. In Ulysses, in marked contrast, Bloom and Stephen cross paths several times and, from “Oxen of the Sun” on, they are together, although with scant rapport and often with misunderstanding. Footsteps mark the beginning in the Odyssey and a departure into the unknown in Ulysses: when Stephen leaves, the last thing heard is the “double reverberation of retreating feet on the heavenborn earth” (657; 17:1243). In other respects, “Ithaca” is more in tune with the Odyssey: Homer’s Ithaka is rocky, angular, and rugged, like Joyce’s prose. It is clear to be seen (eudeielos, Odyssey 2:167), in the “baldest and coldest way,” in Joyce’s description (L I 160). The Dublin water supply system has a minor equivalent in that Odysseus and Eumaios pass the fountain that provides water for the town (Odyssey 17:205–10). Other shared features may be found, although there is certainly no one-to-one relationship. Above all, Homer’s audiences already knew the outcome, which is often foretold in the epic itself, but it is hard to imagine a reader of “Ithaca” discerning any kind of outcome. Ithaca opens with a geometrical slant, “parallel courses […] circle” and ends with “a square round” (619, 689; 17:1, 9, 2328).4 Geometry is 4  See Ciaran McMorran, “Squaring the Circle: Geometry and Topography in ‘Ithaca,’” in Joyce and Geometry (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2020).

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an exact science: two lines are exactly “parallel” or not at all. The episode begins, “What parallel courses did Bloom and Stephen follow returning?” (619; 17:1), but whether the term can be applied to two people walking side by side, both tired, one of them drunk, may be questioned. If, as Euclid defines them, parallels meet only in infinity, that is, never, is that a comment on the significance of the two main characters? At any rate, caution is called for, all the more so since only Bloom is in fact “returning,” and not Stephen. Science is knowing. In a typically Joycean manner, “Ithaca” glorifies science and its procedures but also undercuts and parodies them. We come across an abundance of information, of varying degrees of relevance, in the episode. “Ithaca” contains more catalogues than any other episode, both proportionally and absolutely. In Greek, katalegein meant both telling a story and listing items; “Ithaca” combines and at times fuses both uses. Its catalogues range from the topics Stephen and Bloom discuss at the beginning of the episode to the permutations of “Sinbad the Sailor” at the end. The longest list, known to readers as the Water Hymn, specifies what Bloom “admire[d]” in water (624; 17:184).5 Some of the qualities listed – “universality,” “profundity,” “restlessness,” “turgidity,” “vehicular ­ ramifications,” “buoyancy,” “penetrativeness,” “metamorphoses” (624–25; 17:185–216) – could serve as selfdescriptions of Ulysses. The whole assembly of qualities, which includes chemical, geographical, and many other aspects in a seemingly random order, is hardly something that actually occupies Bloom’s mind at this precise moment. The catalogue itemizes what he might conceivably conjure up, although it fails to ­mention, for example, his warm bath that morning. The list ends on a discordant note: “the noxiousness of its effluvia in lacustrine marshes, pestilential fens, faded flowerwater, stagnant pools in the waning moon” (625; 17:227–28). By that time, the origin of the list has moved out of focus: noxiousness is hardly something to admire, and whether the moon is waxing or waning is of little import. The enumeration deviates 5  See Fritz Senn, “‘Ithaca’: Portrait of the Chapter as a Long List,” in Joyce’s “Ithaca,” ed. Gibson, 31–76.

from objectivity right from the start, humanizing water by attributing to it a “democratic equality” (624; 17:185). Like the other Ithacan catalogues, this list mutates into an associative chain. The Water Hymn, the longest paragraph of the episode, consisting of 182 words, takes much longer to read than the time taken by Bloom’s condensed thoughts. By contrast, the 92 words of Bloom and Stephen’s “itinerary” (619; 17:11), the first item, summarize a walk that in my estimation would easily take twenty minutes. The catalogues thus operate outside the timeframe of the episode, their reading taking far more or far less time than what is happening to create an impression of timelessness. At a very late stage, Joyce added Bloom’s recapitulation of the past and the not-yet-past day: The preparation of breakfast (burnt offering): intestinal congestion and premeditative defecation (holy of holies): the bath (rite of John): the funeral (rite of Samuel): the advertisement of Alexander Keyes (Urim and Thummim): the unsubstantial lunch (rite of Melchisedek): the visit to museum and national library (holy place): the bookhunt along Bedford row, Merchants Arch, Wellington Quay (Simchath Torah): the music in the Ormond Hotel (Shira Shirim): the altercation with a truculent troglodyte in Bernard Kiernan’s premises (holocaust): a blank period of time including a cardrive, a visit to a house of mourning, a leavetaking (wilderness): the eroticism produced by feminine exhibitionism (rite of Onan): the prolonged delivery of Mrs Mina Purefoy (heave offering): the visit to the disorderly house of Mrs Bella Cohen, 82 Tyrone street, lower and subsequent brawl and chance medley in Beaver street (Armageddon) nocturnal perambulation to and from the cabman’s shelter, Butt Bridge (atonement). (680–81; 17:2044–58)

The catalogue is a résumé of Bloom’s adventures, similar to the brief list-like account Odysseus gives to Penelope (Odyssey, 23:310– 42). It highlights what is worth remembering in the day, as a kind of thumbnail sketch of Ulysses. It also adds a few details of Bloom’s wanderings, exceeding Bloom’s own presence in the

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novel by including a “blank period of time”: the narrative gap of his visit to the Dignam family. At practically the last moment, days before the novel’s hasty publication, Joyce added the parenthetical tags, taken mainly from the Old Testament (JJA 27:205). The incongruous list complements the Homeric schema and anchors Ulysses in the Hebrew tradition as an additional, alternative framework. “Shira Shirim,” the erotic “Song of Songs” fits “Sirens,” but it is far from self-explanatory why “Cyclops” is connected to “holocaust,” a sacrifice and literally a “complete burning,” when nothing, in fact, seems to be burnt. What relation the “Aeolus” chapter has to “Urim and Thummim” (divinatory breastplates in the Old Testament), has yet to be discovered; the Biblical “holy of holies” has the air of a worn joke. Again, more questions than satisfying answers emerge. “Ithaca,” then, can be considered a narrative turned into a catalogue. The format allowed Joyce to insert new items without elaborate textual surgery. A desire for order is manifest – “The necessity of order, a place for everything and everything in its place”(662; 17:1410) – but is not universally observed. Data abound, pertinent or not. Numbers are easiest to keep track of but, paradoxically, the entry that deals with the relative ages of Bloom and Stephen, who were born sixteen years apart, is the one that manifestly goes most awry, not only in miscalculations and arbitrary ramifications that could be expanded infinitely, but also by “the ratio of 16 to 0” (632; 17:450), which mathematically dissolves all relations.6 We are apprised of former meetings between Bloom and Stephen in a garden party with memorable lilac trees. An odd reciprocity consists in that Bloom turned down five-year-old Stephen’s naïve “invitation to dinner” in ornamental courtesy: “Very gratefully, with grateful appreciation, with sincere appreciative gratitude, in appreciative grateful sincerity of regret, he declined” (633; 17:473– 76) and Stephen, in return, many years later “[p]romptly, inexplicably, with amicability, gratefully” declines Bloom’s invitation to stay the night (648; 17:955). 6  This may be one reason why the calculations are “nullified” (632; 17:462).

Stephen’s guilt concerning the death of his mother in “Telemachus” is matched by the suicide of Bloom’s father Rudolph Virag, whose motivation is scantily clarified – increasing pain, the death of his wife, or bankruptcy. His behavior on the crucial day was erratic: he purchased aconite in the morning and later, oddly, a “new boater straw hat”, so that it becomes tricky to reconstruct the events leading to his death (637; 17:629). We are given ample circumstantial evidence, in the fragments Bloom remembers of Virag’s farewell letter: Tomorrow will be a week that I received … it is no use Leopold to be … wlth [sic] your dear mother … that is not more to stand … to her … all for me is out … be kind to Athos, Leopold … my dear son … always … of me … das Herz … Gott … dein … (676; 17:1883–86)

In his old age the father falls back to German, probably his second language, which is already present in his idiomatic formulations: “that is not more to stand” makes sense as partly translated “das ist nicht mehr auszuhalten.” Similarly, “all for me is out” has a ring of German. We also learn in “Ithaca” of Rudolph’s exact migrations from “Szombathely, Vienna, Budapest, Milan, London and Dublin” (634; 17:535– 36) or, in reverse order with the addition of Florence, “between Dublin, London, Florence, Milan, Vienna, Budapest, Szombathely” (676; 17:1907–8). In this way, “Ithaca” is both informative and inert. Its style, accordingly, is predominantly nominal; finite verbs are relatively rare and the catalogues often do without them entirely. Instead, the verbal noun is characteristic, such as “repristination of juvenile agility” (634; 17:518). Nothing flows in the Water Hymn; actions are immobilised in nouns (“devastation,” “penetrativeness”) or adjectives (“homothetic,” “confluent”). “Ithaca” is thus ­ in pointed c­ontrast to the fluidity of Molly’s prose in the verb-rich “Penelope”: “Yes because he never did a thing like that before as ask to get his breakfast in bed with a couple of eggs since the City Arms hotel when he used to be pretending to be laid up with a sick voice doing his highness to make himself interesting” (690; 18:1–4, my italics). Similarly, parentheses

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are a static way of inserting information and “Ithaca” has more than three hundred of them. We could say that the episode itself is “par-enthetic,” from the Greek, parentithenai, to “put in beside,” as it assembles items of information without linking or ordering them. The scientistic language of “Ithaca” is based on the dual nature of the English lexicon, with its basis of Germanic words for everyday use and its Latinate, and on occasion Greek, specialized terms. These can effectively become a foreign language, outside the range of many native speakers, including Bloom. A specimen of erudite and Latinate language occurs in Stephen’s “rectification of the anachronism” concerning the conversation of Ireland during the reign of Cormac MacArt, who, in Ithacanese, was “suffocated by imperfect deglutition of aliment” (620; 17:31–36). This event features much more directly in Bloom’s thoughts earlier in the day: “That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the schoolpoem choked himself at Sletty” (161; 8:663–64). Even educated native speakers may be puzzled by terms in a list of hypothetical indignities that might befall Bloom were he to become a pauper: “the latration of illegitimate unlicensed vagabond dogs” (678; 17:1951–52). Latration is an obscure term for barking, from the Latin verb latrare, which might not be strange to, say, an Italian speaker. Odysseus, incidentally, was attacked by barking dogs (Odyssey 14:29). A significant irony of the Ithacan formulation is that hardly anyone would care whether a barking dog is licensed. Science aspires towards accuracy, hence its exact terminology; while “Ithaca” makes a great show of precision, its vocabulary is frequently off target. When Bloom is described as “[r]elinquishing his symposiarchal right to the moustache cup” (629; 17:361) the term is accurate, as the host he is the ruler (arch) of the common (sym) drinking (pos-) even if the consumption of cheap cocoa is hardly a symposium. On the other hand, the water he boils for this cocoa is depicted as emitting a “double falciform ejection of water vapour from under the kettlelid” (627; 17:273); the impressive and unfamiliar adjective “falciform” refers to the shape of a sickle but there is nothing less shaped than steam. In a rather strained comparison b ­ etween a cat and Milly, her spit into

the lake in the park turns the attention to a “somnolent prostrate fish” (647; 17:900). It is hard to imagine a somnolent fish, as fish do not sleep like mammals, and even more so a prostrate one, stretched out on the ground, face downward. Somnolence is a feature of the episode as a whole. Bloom and Molly grow tired during Bloom’s “intermittent and increasingly more laconic narration” (687; 17:2273). However, “laconic” describes short, pithy statements which the couple are unlikely to make before falling asleep, as unlikely as Molly’s “completion of laconic epistolary compositions” (639; 17:682–83). The style of “Ithaca,” on occasion, is laconic but it tends to lapse into its own version of the Eumaean mode. Sleepiness appears in a description that evokes the episode’s technique of catechism: “Somnolent invocation, less somnolent recognition, incipient excitation, catechetical interrogation” (686; 17:2248–49). Molly’s interrogation cannot actually be catechetical, that is, proceed item by item as the episode does; it can hardly amount to more than a general question about Bloom’s doings. Conversely, we are not given Bloom’s account of his day, but only his “modifications” (687; 17:2250), his deviations from the truth. Understandably, he leaves out his more erotic encounters (as Odysseus does, Odyssey 23:311–42) and reports instead his fictional attendance at a theater performance. Strangely, this list of modifications itself strays when it includes Bloom’s mention of Sweets of Sin, the book he has actually brought home, and of Stephen’s short visit. The suspense and delight of “Ithaca” depend largely on its discrepancies. What is awkward in “Eumaeus” is carried over into pedantry in “Ithaca.” Information is not always offered in “the baldest and coldest way” and often includes redundancies and superfluities. The elaborate question “What proposal did Bloom, diambulist, father of Milly, somnambulist, make to Stephen, noctambulist?” (648; 17:929–30, my italics) makes a show of scientific differentiation of walking propensities. The ponderous words display their own importance more than clarify their referents. Stephen walks by night, Bloom by day ­ (“diambulist” may have been expressly ­created by Joyce, based on the Latin dies), but

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both have walked by day and by night. Milly is vaguely connected with somnambulism (see 645; 17:861–63), but less so than Bloom himself (see 712; 18:854–57); “somnambulist” and “noctambulist” are often used synonymously. “Ithaca” features all kinds of redundancies. A characteristic trait is the use of correlative words for thematic coherence. For example, Stephen’s attention is “directed to [marks of hospitality] by his host jocosely and he accepted them seriously as they drank in jocoserious ­silence” (629; 17:368–69, my italics). The dubiously clarifying “respective” and “respectively” occur eleven times in the episode (619; 17:18 and passim.). Pleonasms appear in Bloom’s awareness of “foot pressure in the course of walking repeatedly in several different directions” and in the questions “How did they take leave, one of the other, in separation?” and “What echoes of that sound were by both and each heard?” (656, 664; 17:1220, 1228, 1482–83, my italics). When Bloom climbs over the railing around the cellar area and lets go of his grip, the vacuous question “Did he fall?” (621; 17:90) is seriously taken up by a paragraph which dutifully registers Bloom’s exact weight and the location and time of his weighing, the year being determined within the Christian, Jewish, and Mohammedan eras, along with terms like “epact” used by the Christian Church to determine movable feasts (622; 17:98). All of this documents the obvious: Bloom, no matter what his weight, would fall. An irony emerges in the date that the measurements were taken: May 12, “the last feast of the Ascension” (621; 17:94) which celebrates the ascent of Jesus Christ’s body to heaven in defiance of all laws of physics. One scholar has found a core meaning of Ulysses in a passage that likens Bloom to Christ:7 What were Stephen’s and Bloom’s quasisimultaneous volitional quasisensations of concealed identities?

7  “The significance of the early episodes of Ulysses can only be fully grasped upon a rereading of the novel, and even then, only if one is reading from the moment in ‘Ithaca’ when Stephen sees in Bloom ‘the traditional figure of hypostasis’”; Stephen Sicari, Joyce’s Modernist Allegory (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2001), 30.

Visually, Stephen’s: The traditional figure of hypostasis, depicted by Johannes Damascenus, Lentulus Romanus and Epiphanius Monachus as leucodermic, sesquipedalian with winedark hair. (642; 17:781–85)

The key term in this passage is “hypostasis”: a term of many meanings in philosophy and theology, here it refers to the union of the human and divine in Christ. The claim is doubtful, especially since the evidence consists of recondite documents that were declared spurious by the Church. Moreover, Joyce again added this passage at a late moment, December 19, 1921 (JJA 21:47, 59), so that it was hardly part of a fundamental design. The passage is qualified anyway, dependent on “quasisimultaneous volitional quasisensations”; “quasi” is a term for not quite scientific appearances and partialities. The impressive term “sesquipedalian” was coined by the Roman poet Horace to refer to polysyllabic words that are, hyperbolically, a foot and a half long (Horace, Ars Poetica, 97); here it is intentionally misused to mean six feet long, the ­presumed height of Christ. Accordingly, the complex sentence is more an arid contortion than a profound epiphany. Once again, the episode flaunts its own whatness: Ithacan words tend to be of “sesquipedalian” length, while a lot of its particulars are “quasi.” In his multiple revisions, Joyce tended to increase the discordant features of “Ithaca.” On January 25, 1922, about a week before publication, he dramatically changed an earlier, simpler “Of what did they speak during their itinerary?” to “Of what did the duumvirate deliberate during their itinerary?” (619, 17:11, JJA 27:131, 136). The verb “deliberate” – literally to weigh upon a scale (Latin libera) – is a term used for consequential decisions and seems magniloquent for a mere talk. The word “duumvirate” calls up the historical triumvirates of Roman history, as it is used for pairs of men sharing municipal responsibilities. Neither Bloom nor Stephen are city administrators, so the word here Latinizes “two men,” duo viri. The coinage announces the diction of the episode which seems to set itself off against the style of “Eumaeus” but nonetheless has much of its unintended jocularity.

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The early, more realistic episodes of Ulysses tend to create the illusion that action and the language that describes it are almost identical. Look, for example, at the brevity and awkwardness of “Lenehan gulped to go” in “Sirens” (256; 11:431). In “Ithaca,” an action and its depiction are often far removed from one another. It takes an effort to translate phrases such as “eructation consequent upon repletion” (677; 17:1928–29) into a straightforward belch. Foreign, that is recondite, diction certainly takes the harm out of what if expressed in direct, vulgar terms might be emotionally upsetting. Take, for example, this euphemistic paraphrasis of a blunt monosyllabic AngloSaxon verb: the natural grammatical transition by inversion involving no alteration of sense of an aorist preterite proposition (parsed as masculine subject, monosyllabic onomatopœic transitive verb with direct feminine object) from the active voice into its correlative aorist preterite proposition (parsed as feminine subject, auxiliary verb and quasimonosyllabic onomatopœic past participle with complementary masculine agent). (686; 17:2217–22)

The bathetic climax in the back garden, which I mentioned in my opening summary, is worth detailed attention: The trajectories of their, first sequent, then simultaneous, urinations were dissimilar: Bloom’s longer, less irruent, in the incomplete form of the bifurcated penultimate alphabetical letter who in his ultimate year at High School (1880) had been capable of attaining the point of greatest altitude against the whole concurrent strength of the institution, 210 scholars: Stephen’s higher, more sibilant, who in the ultimate hours of the previous day had augmented by diuretic consumption an insistent vescical pressure. (655; 17:1192–98)

This comparative study of urinary trajectories is full of oddities, at variance with its serious tone. The act is doubtlessly initiated by Stephen as a consequence of his alcohol consumption. Ironically, in the inevitably

sequential treatment of simultaneous events, his relief is recounted after Bloom’s less urgent release. So, narratively, Stephen has to wait until Bloom is dealt with, at some length, in narrative and vesical suspense. As so often in “Ithaca,” we may wonder what actually happened, given the unlikelihood of a decent Irish High School running an open urinating competition among 210 students. Possibly, the event is an expansion of a small group having a competition with Bloom coming off at the top and subsequently being proclaimed champion of the entire school. Only Bloom knows, not his readers. Throughout the episode, stray physical details interfere with its scientific focus. In this description of urination, there is a spurious relationship between “High School” and “altitude,” and between “ultimate year” and “ultimate hours” and a “penultimate letter.” We can hear a sibilant undertone in “sequent […] simultaneous […] dissimilar […] consumption […] insistent vesical pressure.” In other passages, pure sensuality disrupts the emotion-free style of the episode and changes its register: “He kissed the plump mellow yellow smellow melons of her rump, on each plump melonous hemisphere, in their mellow yellow furrow, with obscure prolonged provocative melonsmellonous osculation” (686; 17:2241–43). This sound play with its self-generative ad hoc words would not be amiss in the “Sirens” episode. The made-up “melonsmellonous” sounds like an Ithacan Latinate term but it is constructed from non-Ithacan elements. Here, Bloom is already in bed with Molly. His route up to the bedroom from the back garden involves less pleasurable sensations. His “ingress” into the living room is “suddenly arrested” (658; 17:1274): “The right temporal lobe of the hollow sphere of his cranium came into contact with a solid timber angle where, an infinitesimal but sensible fraction of a second later, a painful sensation was located in consequence of antecedent sensations transmitted and registered” (658; 17:1275–78). In this protracted sentence, medical explanation is at variance with live experience. Hardly anything is more immediate than pain: knocking one’s head on a piece of furniture, one is aware of the pain before being aware of its

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causation. What happens in the shortest possible space is drawn out in words here; the term “infinitesimal but sensible fraction of a second later,” taking up nineteen syllables, contradicts itself. We are not enlightened, however, as to how the furniture was displaced. Many readers have tried unsuccessfully to work out how the furniture was moved and by whom; what actually happened that afternoon in the Bloom’s living room is a matter for speculation.8 Similarly, Bloom’s entry into the marital bed involves a confused set of sensations: What did his limbs, when gradually extended, encounter? New clean bedlinen, additional odours, the presence of a human form, female, hers, the imprint of a human form, male, not his, some crumbs, some flakes of potted meat, recooked, which he removed. (683; 17:2122–25)

A lot can be deduced from this list. Molly put on new, clean bedsheets for Boylan’s impending visit. Plumtree’s Potted Meat was consumed; in contrast to the advertising jingle, however, its consumption means that for Bloom his home is no more “an abode of bliss” (636; 17:599). That Bloom’s limbs actually felt “the imprint of 8  See, for example, Margaret Honton, “Molly’s Mistressstroke,” James Joyce Quarterly 14:1 (Fall 1976), 25–30.

a human form, male, not his” is highly unlikely, assuming that Molly after her adventure would have moved, perhaps tossed, in the bed for hours. Bloom’s imagination is presented here as a physical sensation. This is apart from the fact that human limbs do not encounter “additional odours.” With its quasi-scientific approach, “Ithaca” is yet one more rearrangement of motifs in Ulysses, a kaleidoscopic replay with multiple recapitulations. At the scale of the narrative, we see again the day’s events and economics, its throwaway convolutions; at the minute scale of the alphabet, we encounter Leopold Bloom in anagrams: “Ellpodbomool / Molldopeloob / Bollopedoom / Old Ollebo, M. P.” – the final one missing an “o” (631; 17:406–9). We also find Wakean variants of “Plumtree”: “Beware of imitations. Peatmot. Trumplee. Montpat. Plamtroo” (636; 17:604–5). In this chimera of all-inclusiveness, the more that is enumerated, the more important the unenumerated becomes. The episode’s odd combination of certainty and ignorance might be characterized by a trivial, overlooked remark made in “Telemachus” by Haines in embarrassed response to Stephen’s demand for payment: “I don’t know, I’m sure” (16; 1:493). “Ithaca” exemplifies the old Socratic wisdom, the paradox that all we can know is that, however much, we know nothing.

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The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 813

G 17:20

for religions read religious

circus before George’s church: the semicircle, or “circus,” of Hardwicke Place. by an inadvertence: unthinkingly. chord in any circle being less than the arc which it subtends: Bloom and Stephen take  the shortest route, across the semicircle. duumvirate: the two men. paraheliotropic: with leaves that turn to the

light. exposed corporation emergency dustbuckets: outdoor trash cans/rubbish bins. maleficent influence of the presabbath: Friday is the Jewish “presabbath” and considered unlucky by Christians because Christ was crucified on that day. indurated: rendered callous or stubborn. obtunding: blunting, deadening.

814 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 620

for assently read assented

G 17:40

for occusionally read occasionally

G 17:60

Patrick son of Calpornus, son of Potitus, son of Odyssus: St Patrick’s forebears in The Confession of St Patrick. Cormac MacArt: the first Irish convert to Christianity; see 161. deglutition: swallowing. at Sletty and interred at Rossnaree: Cormac’s place of death and burial in “The Burial of King Cormac”; see 161; Rossnaree is on the river Boyne in County Meath.

inanition: exhaustion caused by lack of nourishment. a matutinal cloud […] than a woman’s hand: from 1 Kings 18:42–44; see 9, 58. Cecil Turnbull: possibly Donald Turnbull’s brother. Gibraltar Villa: Daniel Moulang is listed as the occupant. Bloomfield House: J. D. Richardson, as the occupant.

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The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 815

for What did Bloom read What action did Bloom

G 17:80

equidifferent: having equal differences. To enter or not to enter: after Hamlet (iii.i.60). avoirdupois: “imperial” system of weights using pounds and ounces. Francis Frœdman: pharmaceutical chemist,

46 Upper Dorset Street, 19 North Frederick Street. last feast of Ascension: the Feast of the Ascension, or, Holy Thursday, occurs forty days after Easter, on May 12 in 1904.

816 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 622

G 17:100

G 17:120

bisextile year: leap year. golden number: the current year plus one and divided by nineteen, indicating the position in the metonic cycle of nineteen years after which new and full moons return to the same calendar days, used to calculate the dates of religious feasts such as Easter Sunday. epact: the number of days in the age of the moon on the first day of the year. solar cycle: period of 28 years, after which the days of the week recur on the same calendar days. dominical letters C B: used to denote Sundays in a particular year. Roman indication: after Roman indiction, a fifteen-year cycle

instituted by the Emperor Constantine in 323 ce for taxation purposes. Julian period: unifying period of 7980 years combining the metonic, solar, and indiction cycles, i.e. 28 times 19 times 15. MXMIV: MCMIV (G, correction), 1904 in Roman numerals. lucifer match: see 521. candescence: dazzling whiteness or brightness. C P: Candlepower. Abram coal: Abram Coal Co., Bickersaw, Wigan. Messrs Flower and M’Donald of 14 D’Olier street: coal importers, salt manufacturers, coke, charcoal, and corn merchants.

623 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 817

G 17:140

G 17:160

Brother Michael in the infirmary: see chapter 1, Portrait. Simon Dedalus, in an unfurnished room of his first residence in Dublin: see chapter 2, Portrait. twelve North Richmond street: home of the young narrator of “Araby,” in Dubliners. feast of Saint Francis-Xavier 1898: St Francis Xavier (1506–52), patron of Belvedere College; see chapter 3, Portrait. 15 Usher’s Island: of his aunt Sara, wife of Richie (Richard) Goulding, in

the kitchen of their lodgings at 62 Clanbrassil street: of his mother Mary (G, inclusion). dean of studies […] 16 Stephen’s Green, north: see chapter 5, Portrait. Cabra: see 562. Lisle suspender tops: Lisle thread, a hard twisted cotton thread, produced at Lisle, France. Roundwood reservoir: fed from the Vartry River, at Roundwood, a village in County Wicklow.

818 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 624

for particulary read particularly G 17:180

G 17:200

Dargle: river, County Meath. Rathdown: barony, southeast County Dublin. Glen of the Downs: valley, County Wicklow. summer drouth: not recorded for 1904. Spencer Harty: Civil Engineer (CE) and waterworks engineer, Ranelagh, Merrion Road, Ballsbridge. impotable water of the Grand and Royal canals as in 1893: the heavily polluted water was used in 1893 during an unprecedented drought. South Dublin Guardians: from an account in the

June 15, 1904 edition of the Irish Independent. Ignatius Rice, solicitor: law agent for the Dublin waterworks committee, 1 Waltham Terrace, Blackrock. Mercator’s projection: Gerardus Mercator (1512–94), Flemish geographer, mathematician, cartographer. Sundam trench: the Sunda Trench off Sumatra was measured in 1906 at 3,828 fathoms. hydrostatic: the equilibrium of liquids. hydrokinetic: the motion of liquids. its preponderance: the earth is 70 percent water.

multisecular: enduring over many centuries or ages. luteosfulvous: luteofulvous (G, correction), tawny yellow. slow erosions of peninsulas and islands, its persistent formation of homothetic islands, peninsulas and downwardtending (G, inclusion). millions of tons of the most precious metals: silver and gold appear in solution in sea-water. tarns: small mountain lakes.

625 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 819

for infaillibility read infallibility

G 17:220

for ifnavigable read if navigable

rhabdomantic: the art of discovering ores, springs of water in the earth by means of a divining rod. hygrometric: measuring the degree of humidity. exemplified by the well by the hole in the wall at Ashtown gate (G, inclusion); see 76. its buoyancy in the waters of the Dead Sea: due to the concentration of salts; see 59. minches: channels between islands.

anacoustic: unable to hear. photophobe: repelled by light. lacustrine: pertaining to a lake. stagnant pools in the waning moon: negative associations with the waning moon. Barrington’s: John Barrington & Sons, Ltd, merchants and manufacturers, 201–2 Great Britain (now Parnell) Street. holland cloth: type of linen cloth first made in Holland.

820 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 626

G 17:240

G 17:260

for course read source

epigastric: part of the abdomen over the stomach. ling: fish from northern European waters, usually served salted, dried. ebullition: the process of boiling. bituminous coal: used as industrial fuel; softer than anthracite coal. luminiferous: light-conducting.

diathermanous: able to freely transmit radiant heat. ether: rarefied elastic substance formerly believed to permeate all space. 72 thermal units needed to raise 1 pound of water from 50˚ to 212˚ Fahrenheit: 162 BTUs (British Thermal Unit) would be required.

627 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 821

G 17:280

G 17:300

for olivesin read olives in

falciform: sickle-shaped. agglutinated: glued together. humected: moistened. heliotherapy: treatment of disease by exposure to sunshine. psychophysicotherapeutics: neologism, curing the body by treating the mind. osteopathic surgery:

treatment of disease by correcting musculoskeletal misalignments. moustachecup, uninverted, and saucer of Crown Derby: Milly’s gift; see 60. shammy: chamois. comfits: see 263. oleaginous: oily.

822 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 628

G 17:320

Plumtree’s potted meat: see 72, 218. William Gilbey and Co’s: wine growers and spirit merchants, distiller and importers, 46–47 Upper Sackville (now O’Connell) Street. invalid port: given to the weak or ill for its presumed restorative virtues. Epp’s soluble cocoa: see 611. Anne Lynch’s choice tea: Anne Lynch & Co., tea merchants, with multiple Dublin addresses. Irish

Model Dairy’s cream: Model Farm, Department For Agriculture and Technical Instruction Ireland, Glasnevin. naggin: quarter pint; see 59. Bernard Kiernan’s: see 269. Graham Lemon’s: see 144. Elijah, restorer of the church in Zion: see 144. F. W. Sweny and Co (Limited): see 80. Turkish and Warm Baths, 11 Leinster street: see 83.

629 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 823

G 17:340

G 17:360

Light to the gentiles: from Isaiah 49:6, Romans 15:9–16. collation: light meal on days of fasting. supererogatory: beyond what is commanded or required. symposiarchal: pertaining to the leader of a

symposium or convivial gathering. jocoserious: word coined by Matthew Green in Spleen (1737). Epp’s massproduct, the creature cocoa: see 611.

824 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

G 17:380

G 17:400

cerebration: brain-action. Shamrock: illustrated weekly magazine published by the Irish National Printing and Publishing Co., 32 Lower Abbey Street.

“Ithaca” · 630

631 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 825

G 17:420

insert comma after Miss Whelan

for anticipatep read anticipated

kinetic poet: in opposition to Stephen’s theory of art in Portrait. R. G. Johnston: composer, arranger, and selector of the music to Sinbad the Sailor. Brian Boru: High King of Ireland from c.1000; see 96. Michael Gunn, lessee of the Gaiety Theatre: see 89. Christmas pantomime Sinbad the Sailor: opened on December 26, 1892 at the Gaiety. written by Greenleaf Whittier, scenery by George A. Jackson: from the advertisement to Sindbad [sic] the Sailor in

the Freeman’s Journal, December 26, 1892. diamond jubilee of Queen Victoria: June 22, 1897. opening of the new municipal fishmarket: 4–33 Michan’s Street, on May 11, 1897. respective visits of Their Royal Highnesses: the Duke and Duchess of York arrived in Dublin on August 18, 1897. Grand Lyric Hall on Burgh Quay: on the south bank of the Liffey, November 26, 1897. Theatre Royal in Hawkins street: see 261.

826 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 632

G 17:440

for arbitrary as read as arbitrary

G 17:460

change fullstop to comma after house for cofferoom read coffeeroom

Everybody’s Book of Jokes: Everybody’s Book of Jokes, Retorts, Bulls, Jests, Rhymes, Conundrums, Anecdotes, Puns, and Children’s Sayings: Over 3000 Selections, Old and New (1890). new high sheriff, Thomas Pile: Thomas Devereux Pile; Lord Mayor 1900–1. new solicitorgeneral, Dunbar Plunket Barton: Sir Dunbar Plunket Barton; see 190. maximum postdiluvian age of 70: from Psalm 90:10. Bloom,

being 1190 years alive having been born in the year 714: Bloom would then be 1238 in 1952. maximum antediluvian age, that of Methusalah, 969 years: from Genesis 5:27. the year 3072 […] 83,300 years […] the year 81,396 B. C.: the calculations become comical. Breslin’s hotel: Royal Marine Hotel in Bray owned by Edward Breslin.

633 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 827

G 17:480

G 17:500

City Arms Hotel: see 162. clerk in the employment of Joseph Cuffe of 5 Smithfield: see 94. corporal work of mercy: see 283. Mr Gavin Low’s place of business: see 380. landaus: four-wheeled carriages with a two-part top that could be closed or thrown open. from the city to the Phoenix Park: North

Circular Road ends on the eastern end of Phoenix Park. rondel: a circular object or shape. velocipedes: vehicles propelled by pedals. catarrhal: inflammation of the mucous membrane. colza oil: rapeseed oil. statue of the Immaculate Conception: see 199, 341.

828 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 634

for exercices read exercises

G 17:520

for Bloom read Bloom and Bloom’s thoughts

her green and maroon brushes: from Portrait (P 5). Michael Davitt: see 556. Eugen Sandow’s Physical Strength and How To Obtain It: see 59. a pleasant rigidity, a more pleasant relaxation (G, inclusion). repristination: to restore to an original condition. full circle gyration: bar exercise involving a 360 degree rotation. half lever movement: bar exercise

in which hands grasp the bar, arms straight, and legs are extended at a right angle. transubstantial heir […] consubstantial heir: possibly because Bloom’s father is dead while Stephen’s is still alive. Szombathely: Hungarian birthplace of Bloom’s father; see 467. Karoly: common Hungarian name. Hegarty: common Irish surname. Grier: originally a Scottish name.

635 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 829

G 17:540

G 17:560

Nicholas Without, Coombe: Church St Nicholas Without and St Luke (Church of Ireland), 9 Eldon Terrace. Philip Gilligan: fictional; see 148. Swords: village, now suburban town, north Dublin, thought to have been blessed by St Columcille; see 324; the name comes from sórd, Irish, “well.” the reverend Charles Malone […] Patrons, Rathgar: 49 Rathgar Road. dame’s school: private elementary school run by a local woman. high school: Erasmus Smith; see 149. the royal university: Dublin’s Royal University, originally administered examinations and granted

degrees only. aeronautic parachute: first demonstrated in 1783 by Louis-Sébastien Lenormand. reflecting telescope: invented by James Gregory (1638–75), Scottish mathematician, and built by Sir Isaac Newton (1642–1727) in 1671. spiral corkscrew: first used in the late seventeenth century. safety pin: invented in 1849 by Walter Hunt (1796–1859). mineral water siphon: patented in 1825 by Charles Pinth, refined by Antoine Perpigna in 1837. canal lock: first used by the Chinese in the tenth century. suction pump: used as early as the first century.

830 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 636

G 17:580

G 17:600

orreries: clockwork mechanisms that showed the movements of the planets. Ephraim Marks and Charles A. James: Marks held a penny (1d) bazaar; James ran the Henry Street Waxworks; see 591. triliteral: consisting of three letters. monoideal: having or expressing one solitary idea. K. 11. Kino’s 11/- Trousers: see 146. House of Keys. Alexander

J. Keyes: see 116. non-compo boots: compo, “composite.” Barclay and Cook, 18 Talbot Street: Barclay and Cook’s boot shop, 104 Talbot Street, 5 South Great George’s Street. Bacilikil: fictitious product. Veribest: fictitious product. Uwantit: fictitious product.

637 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 831

G 17:620

for aforesaid), the toxin aforesaid, read aforesaid, the toxin aforesaid),

Queen’s Hotel, Queen’s Hotel, Queen’s Hotel. Queen’s Ho … (G, inclusion). Queen’s Hotel, Ennis, County Clare: see 90, 98. monkshood (aconite): medicinal and potentially poisonous plant. neuralgic:

related to nerve pain. liniment: relieving lotion, usually made with oil. medical hall of Francis Dennehy, 17 Church street, Ennis: fictional. general drapery store of James Cullen: fictional.

832 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 638

G 17:640

for pedagogie read pedagogic

G 17:660

A Pisgah Sight […] of the Plums: Stephen’s narrative; see 143. apothegms: pithy or sententious maxims. My Favourite Hero: name of Joyce’s composition on Odysseus, at Belvedere College. Procrastination is the Thief of Time: from Edward Young’s (1683–1765) Night Thoughts (1742). Doctor Dick: pseudonym of a Dublin pantomime writer. Heblon’s Studies in Blue: pseudonym of Joseph K. O’Connor (1878–1961), a Dublin solicitor who composed sketches of Dublin

slums. videlicet: viz, namely, to wit. halma: game played on a checkerboard. spillkins: game with sticks. nap: card game named after Napoleon III. spoil five: round game of cards. twentyfive: variation on Spoil-Five. beggar my neighbour: card game; see 319. policeaid clothing society: the Police Aided Children’s Clothing Society, 188 Great Brunswick Street. cigar divan: commercial lounge for smoking cigars.

639 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 833

G 17:680

G 17:700

copperas, green vitriol: proto-sulphate of iron or ferrous sulphate. nutgall: oak gall used to make ink. metempsychosis: see 62. alias (a mendacious person

mentioned in sacred scripture): “alias” is confused with Ananias from Acts 5:1–11.

834 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 640

G 17:720

G 17:740

oral comparison? By juxtaposition. On the penultimate (G, inclusion). More Nebukim: the Hebrew title of Maimonides’s Guide for the Perplexed; see 27. Moses Mendelssohn: see 327. there arose none like Moses: from Deuteronomy 34:10. pupil of a rabbinical philosopher: Jewish legend with no basis in fact. anapocryphal: authentic, unhidden. Felix Bartholdy Mendelssohn: see 327. Baruch Spinoza: see 273, 327. Mendoza (pugilist): Daniel Mendoza (1764–1836), “the Star of Israel,” English-born Jewish boxer. Ferdinand Lassalle: (1825–64), German lawyer, Marxist, founded the Allgemeiner Deutscher

Arbeiterverein (General German Workers’ Alliance) and was killed in a duel. suil suil, suil […] suil go cuin: from the Irish ballad “Siúil a Rún.” Kifeloch harimon […] l’zamatejch: from the Song of Solomon 4:3. Sweets of Sin: see 226. Irish characters for gee, eh, dee, em, simple and modified: modified vowels carry an accent, or fada, and, in the Gaelic font, modified consonants carry a dot, or séimhiú, above them. Hebrew characters ghimel, aleph, daleth and (in the absence of mem) […] goph: qoph (G, correction); third, first, fourth, thirteenth, and nineteenth letters of the Hebrew alphabet.

641 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 835

for taught read been taught

G 17:760

the extinct and the revived: Hebrew was nearly extinct in 1904; Irish was enjoying a revival through the efforts of the Gaelic League. accidence: inflection of words in grammar. diacritic aspirations: used in transliterating Hebrew; séimhiú in Irish. epenthetic: syllables inserted between consonants. servile: letter added to express a derivative or inflectional element. taught on the plain of Shinar: from The History of Ireland (c.1633–34), by Geoffrey Keating (c.1570–c.1634). Heber and Heremon: sons of Mileadh, mythical ancestor of the Milesians. homilectic: pertaining

to a sermon. toponomastic: pertaining to placenames. culdees: see 285. Torah: Hebrew, “doctrine, law”; name for the Pentateuch. Talmud (Mischna and Ghemara): the oral law of Judaism and its two divisions. Massor: Massorah, Hebrew, “the transmission of Jewish tradition.” Pentateuch: first five books of the Old Testament. Book of the Dun Cow: Leabhar na h-Uidhre, earliest surviving Irish manuscript, c.1100 ce, from the monastery of Clonmacnoise. Book of Ballymote: see 318. Garland of Howth: illuminated medieval manuscript discovered on Ireland’s Eye. Book

of Kells: illuminated book from the eighth or ninth century, Kells, County Meath. S Mary’s Abbey: see 221. Adam and Eve’s tavern: see 141. Chanan David of Zion: the Kiryat Chanah David, “the city where David camped,” Isaiah 29:1. Kolod balejwaw […] jehudi homijah: Hebrew, “While yet within the heart-inwardly / The soul of the Jew yearns,” from Hatikvah, “The Hope,” the Israeli national anthem. distich: couplet. mnemotechnic: see 483. cuneiform: invented by the Sumerians. virgular: rodlike. quinquecostate: fiveribbed. ogham: ancient Irish script of parallel strokes.

836 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 642

G 17:780

for Traditionnal read traditional

G 17:800 for mechianacal read mechanical

traditional figure of hypostasis: Jesus; see 40. Johannes Damascenus: (c.676–c.754), theologian; described Christ as “beautiful and tall, with fair and slightly curling locks dark eyebrows which met in the middle, an oval countenance, a pale complexion, olive-tinted, and of the colour of wheat, with bright eyes like His Mother’s.” Lentulus Romanus: Publius Lentulus, alleged author of a letter describing Jesus’s appearance. Epiphanius Monachus: St Epiphanius the Monk (c.315–402),

founding father of the Eastern Church. leucodermic: white-skinned. sesquipedalian: measuring a foot and a half. reverend T. Salmon, D. D.: see 157. Rufus Isaacs, K. C.: (1860–1935), Jewish lawyer, first Marquess of Reading, served as Lord Chief Justice of England, ambassador to America, and viceroy of India. Charles Wyndham: born Charles Culverwall (1837–1919), English actor-manager. Osmond Tearle: George Osmond Tearle (1852–1901), English actor-manager.

643 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 837

for ow’er the je’s read o’er the jew’s

Little Harry Hughes […] lies among the dead: from a ballad on the murder c.1255 of a ten-year-old boy,

Hugh of Lincoln, whose body was found on a Jew’s property.

838 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

G 17:820

“Ithaca” · 644

645 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 839

G 17:840

G 17:860

continued fraction: a fraction of infinite length whose denominator is a quantity plus a fraction, which latter

fraction has a similar denominator, and so on. cognate: descended from a common ancestor.

840 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 646

for ahullucination read a hullucination

G 17:880

15 June 1889: Milly’s date of birth. Herr Hauptmann Hainau: hauptmann, German, “captain”; possible reference to Julius Jakob, Baron Haynau (1786–1853), notorious Austrian general. at distant intervals to more distant intervals to its most distant

intervals (G, inclusion). duke’s lawn: at Leinster House; see 240. Elsa Potter: basis in 1904 Dublin unknown. (valerian): herb of the genus Valeriana thought to possess properties as a sedative.

647 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 841

G 17:900

for were differences read their differences

G 17:920

lake in Stephen’s green: artificial pond on the northern side of Stephen’s Green. oviparous: egg-producing. imbalsamation: embalming. 27th anniversary of his birth: in 1893, Milly was three or

four. quarter day: days which begin the quarters of the year, Lady Day, Midsummer Day, Michaelmas, and Christmas. moiety: one half.

842 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 648

G 17:940

for Goulding read Dedalus (born Goulding)

for shilling read shillings

diambulist: daywalker. noctambulist: nightwalker. acquisition of correct Italian pronunciation: see 61. Mrs Emily Sinico […] 14 October 1903: see 110; her death in “A Painful Case” takes place in November,

not October. interment of Mrs Mary Dedalus, born Goulding, 26 June 1903: Joyce’s mother died on August 13, 1903, aged 44. vigil of the anniversary of the decease of Rudolph Bloom: June 27, 1886.

649 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 843

G 17:960

for anintuitive parti coloured clown read an intuitive particoloured clown G 17:980

Ship hotel and tavern: see 6; the tavern is at 5, not 6, Lower Abbey. National Library of Ireland, 10 Kildare street: the library is at 9 Kildare Street. National Maternity hospital, 29, 30 and 31 Holles street: see 151. Albert Hengler’s circus: see 62.

Rotunda, Rutland square: see 92, 93. imprevidibility: neologism, unforeseeability. J. and T. Davy: family grocers, wine and spirit merchants, 1 Charlemont Mall, Grand Canal.

844 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

G 17:1000 delete comma

for cataclyms read cataclysms

G 17:1020

exodus from the house of bondage: see 118.

“Ithaca” · 650

651 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 845

for so read do

G 17:1040 for constellation read constellations

for threscore read threescore

G 17:1060

secreto: Latin, “in private,” “secretly”; prayer during Mass. the 113th, modus peregrinus: Latin, “foreign manner”; “When Israel went out of Egypt, the house of Jacob from a people of strange language; Judah was his sanctuary, and Israel his dominion” Psalm 113:1 in the Vulgate, 114:1 in King James. incipient lunation: new moon. perigee: nearest point to the earth. lattiginous: milky. lower end of a cylindrical vertical

shaft 5000 ft deep: from Aristotle’s claim in De Generatione Animalium. Sirius: brightest star in the sky, in the Canis Major, Big Dog, constellation. Arcturus: second brightest star in the Boötes, the Ploughman, constellation. precession of equinoxes: the earth’s axis of rotation produces an apparent change in the place of a star, known as precession. Nova in 1901: GK Persei, discovered by T. D. Anderson in February 1901.

846 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 652

G 17:1080

for wiih read with

G 17:1100

universes […] redivisible component bodies: Aristotle was influenced by Anaxagoras’s theory that the cosmos is composed of ubiquitous but unevenly distributed ingredients. problem of the quadrature of the circle: Dante used the problem of squaring of the circle to describe the depiction of God in Paradiso 33; see 484. the 9th power of the 9th power of 9: Dante writes on the mystical symbolism of the number nine

as a multiple of three, the Trinity, in Vita Nuova. India paper: thin, tough opaque paper, used for bibles and prayer books. atmospheric pressure of 19 tons: the total pressure of one unit of atmosphere on Bloom’s whole body according to the DuBois and DuBois formula (Slote). apogean: highest or most distant from the earth. to vanities, to vanities of vanities and all that is vanity: after Ecclesiastes 1:2.

653 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 847

for interdependant read interdependent

for satroscopist read astroscopist

G 17:1120

change comma to colon after persons

the minor was proved by the major: thus the conclusion of the syllogism was proved, here that human life on other planets would be just as difficult to save. colors […] vitality: by spectroscopic analysis. white, yellow, crimson, vermilion, cinnabar: order in the Draper system of stellar classification. magnitudes: units of brightness of stars. waggoner’s star: Auriga, the Charioteer. Walsingham way: the Milky Way, used as a guide by pilgrims. chariot of David: Ursa Major. annular cinctures of Saturn: rings of Saturn. independent synchronous discoveries of Galileo,

Simon Marius, Piazzi, Le Verrier, Herschel, Galle: between 1610 and 1846, working together, in rivalry, or consecutively, discovered Jupiter’s moons, Ceres the first asteroid, Neptune, and Uranus. systematizations of Bode and Kepler: Johann Elert Bode (1747–1826) developed an empirical numerical progression for the location of planets in 1776; Johannes Kepler (1571–1630) established three laws of planetary motion in 1619. hirsute comets: kometes, Greek, “wearing long hair,” mostly gaseous, with elliptical orbits. perihelion […] aphelion: points of orbit closest to and farthest

from the sun. sidereal: pertaining to the stars. Libyan floods on Mars: Libya, a Martian continent, was thought to have been inundated. annual recurrence […] S. Lawrence: the August 10 Perseid meteor shower, called the “Tears of St Lawrence.” new moon with the old moon in her arms: from an anonymous Scottish ballad, “Sir Patrick Spens.” appearance of a star (1st magnitude): see 201. Corona Septentrionalis: on May 12, 1866 (the year of Bloom’s birth). Andromeda: in 1885. Auriga: in 1892, almost two years before Rudy’s birth.

848 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 654

G 17:1140

for spectators read future spectators

G 17:1160

Utopia: Greek, “no place”; Sir Thomas Moore’s (1478–1535) book (1516). apposition: “a formal examination by question and answer” (OED). confutation: disproof. selenographical: pertaining to the moon’s geography. lake of dreams, the sea of rains, the gulf of dews, the ocean of fecundity: features of the lunar surface: Lacus Somniorum, “Lake

of Dreams,” Mare Imbrium, “Sea of Rains,” Sinus Roris, “Gulf of Dew,” Mare Fœcunditatis, “Sea of Fecundity.” tellurian: terrestrial. forced invariability of her aspect: since the moon revolves on its axis at the same time it performs its revolution only one side is visible from the earth. to render insane: see 150. terribility: obsolete, terribleness.

655 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 849

G 17:1180

G 17:1200

Frank O’Hara: window, blind, and shutter manufacturer, 17 Aungier Street. an invisible attractive person (G, inclusion). irruent: rushing in violently or suddenly. High School: Erasmus Smith;

see 149. pelosity: hairiness. problem of the sacerdotal integrity of Jesus circumcised: question of Christ’s perfection and the relation of circumcision to his perfection. 1st January: the Feast of Circumcision.

850 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 656

G 17:1220

the divine prepuce: Jesus’s foreskin. hyperduly: veneration given to the Virgin Mary. latria: the highest form of worship, due to God alone. Vega in the Lyre: brightest star in the constellation named after Orpheus’s lyre. Tress of Berenice: constellation in the northern hemisphere. Leo: constellation in the southern hemisphere. arruginated: rusty. Standing perpendicular […] less than the sum of two right

angles: after Euclid’s fifth axiom dealing with two straight parallel lines. church of Saint George: St George’s Church, Hardwicke Place. Liliata rutilantium […] Chorus excipiat: Latin, “may the lilied throng encompass thee; may the choir of rejoicing Virgins welcome thee”; see 10. Heigho, heigho: bells of St George’s; see 67.

657 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 851

G 17:1240

G 17:1260

Simon Dedalus (in bed), Ned Lambert (in bed), Tom Kernan (in bed) (G, inclusion). Réaumur: obsolete scale invented by René Antoine Ferchault de Réaumur (1683–1757), French scientist. proximate dawn: 3.33 a.m., June 17, 1904. killed in action, Modder river: Boer War battle at Modder River, South Africa, in November 1899. Philip Gilligan: fictional; see 148. phthisis: progressive wasting disease; see 154. Jervis Street: Hospital and Charitable Infirmary, 14–20 Jervis Street. Matthew

F. Kane: friend of John Joyce; Joyce modeled Martin Cunningham on him and used his funeral as the template for Paddy Dignam’s funeral. Philip Moisel: son of Nisan Moisel; see 58. pyaemia: septicaemia. Michael Hart: friend of John Joyce. The disparition of three final stars: inversion of Jewish custom to declare night at three stars; see 359. Mizrach: Hebrew, “rising sun, east”; the direction western Jews turn for prayer, towards Jerusalem. avine music: bird song.

852 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

for anetcedent read antecedent G 17:1280

G 17:1300

majolicatopped: finished in earthenware with colored decoration on a white tin glaze. supermanence: neologism, more than permanent.

“Ithaca” · 658

659 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 853

G 17:1320

Cadby: London-based piano manufacturer. Love’s Old Sweet Song: see 61. Madam Antoinette Sterling: (1850–1904), American contralto. ad libitum: Latin, “at the pleasure” of the performer. forte: Italian, “strong.” pedal: on a piano, changes the sound in order to produce expressive effects. animato: Italian, “lively.” sustained, pedal: right pedal of the piano

used to raise the dampers off the strings so that a note is sustained for longer. ritirando: ritardando, Italian, “receding, withdrawing.” close: conclusion of a musical phrase, theme or movement. black diminutive cone: incense. Agendath Netaim: society of planters; see 58. rutilance: glowing with a ruddy or golden light. homothetic: similar and similarly placed.

854 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 660

for at ransparent read a transparent

G 17:1340

G 17:1360

Connemara marble: from a quarry in the County Galway region. arborescence: tree-like growth or formation. at ransparent bellshade: a transparent bellshade (G, correction). owl: emblem of wisdom. pierglass: large high mirror, originally placed over a chimneypiece or between two windows. ipsorelative

[…] aliorelative: relative to oneself ... to another. Brothers and sisters […] his grandfather’s son: variation on an old rhyming riddle, in which the answer is “himself.” Thom’s Dublin Post Office Directory, 1886: published by Alexander Thom & Co.; see 118.

661 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 855

G 17:1380

for bronw read brown

Denis Florence M’Carthy’s: (1817–82) Poems (1882). The Useful Ready Reckoner: annual market journal. The Secret History of the Court of Charles II: (1792) by Charles McCormick. The Child’s Guide: to Knowledge (1861), instructional catechism. cloth). The Beauties of Killarney (wrappers). When (G, inclusion). When We Were Boys by William O’Brien: written in prison during the Fenian rising of the 1860s; see 608. Thoughts from Spinoza: unknown; see 273. Ellis’s Three Trips to Madagascar: (1858),

William Ellis (1794–1872), British Congregationalist missionary. The Stark-Munro Letters by A. Conan Doyle: (1859–1930), epistolary novel (1895). Voyages in China by «Viator»: see 110; viator, Latin, “traveler.” Philosophy of the Talmud: unknown. Lockhart’s Life of Napoleon: (1829), John Gibson Lockhart (1794–1854). Soll und Haben by Gustav Freytag: (1816–95), 1855 novel (Debit and Credit). Hozier’s History of the RussoTurkish War: (1877–79), Colonel Sir Henry Montague Hozier (1842–1907). verso: back of a page. Lawrence

Bloomfield in Ireland by William Allingham: (1864, 1869), Irish poet (1824–89). trefoil: clover, shamrock. recto: front of a page. A Handbook of Astronomy: generic title. nonpareil: unrivaled. brevier: typographic term, size of type typically used in breviaries. pica: typographic term, size of type equivalent to 12 points. The Hidden Life of Christ: possibly The Hidden Life of Jesus a Lesson and Model to Christians (1869), by Henri Marie Boudon (1624–1702).

856 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 662

G 17:1400

G 17:1420

In the Track of the Sun: (1893) by Frederick Diodati Thompson (1850–1906) describing his trip around the world. intestation: title or inscription. Physical Strength and How to Obtain It by Eugen Sandow: see 59. Michael Gallagher: basis in 1904 Dublin unknown;

Enniscorthy is in County Wexford not Wicklow. incuneated: neologism, wedged in. closestool: chamberpot within a stool. Hozier’s History of the Russo-Turkish War: (1877–79), Sir Henry Montague Hozier (1838–1907). Mnemotechnic: see 483.

663 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 857

G 17:1440

for 10 October read 17 October

Plevna: see 54. Narcissus: from Ovid’s Metamorphoses. P. A. Wren, 9 Bachelors Walk: auction rooms; see 96. cicatrice: scar. infracostal: below the ribs. sting inflicted: on May 23; see 66. prurition: itching.

occasion (17 October 1903) of the interment of Mrs Emily Sinico: see 110, 648. Sydney Parade: in the former Merrion village, now southwest Dublin suburb.

858 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

G 17:1460

for 0.16.6 read 0.17.5

G 17:1480

for right read right foot

for unguial read unguical

disnoded: neologism, untied. effracted: broke out or through. unguial: unguical, pertaining to nails or claws.

“Ithaca” · 664

665 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 859

for unguial read unguical

G 17:1500

G 17:152 0

Mrs Ellis’s juvenile school: see 635. primogeniture: inheritance by the first-born. gavelkind: inheritance divided equally amongst all male heirs. borough English: inheritance by the youngest son. roods and perches: locally variable measurement terms; see 329. valuation £42: annual rent, customary indication of Irish land value in 1904. turbary: land used to dig for turf. Rus in Urbe: Latin, “the country in the city,” from Martial’s (c.40–c.102) Epigrams; a constructed illusion of countryside. Qui si Sana: Italian, “Here one is healthy,” motto on 12 Newton Avenue, Blackrock. Virginia

creeper: common climbing plant. Dundrum, south, or Sutton, north: suburbs of Dublin. feefarmgrant: land rented “fee simple,” with perpetually fixed rent. 999 years: customary English lease in 1900. messuage: dwelling-house, with outbuildings and adjacent land. Encyclopedia Britannica and New Century Dictionary: widely used sources of learning in 1904. handtufted Axminster carpet: Axminster, town in Devon, England, known for its high-quality carpets with a thick soft pile like that of a Turkish carpet. loo table: round table. ormolu: gold-colored alloy.

860 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 666

G 17:1540

G 17:1560

cuspidors: spitoons. oleograph: picture printed in oil colors, replicating an oil painting. betweenmaid: maidservant who assists both cook and housemaids. fives courts: for English handball. sir James W. Mackey (Limited): 23 Upper Sackville Street.

swatheturner: used to invert and aerate a row of grass, corn, or other crop, after it is mown. haytedder: used to stir or spread hay to help it dry. billhook: heavy thick knife with a hooked end.

667 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 861

G 17:1580

G 17:1600

phaeton: light four-wheeled open carriage. solidungular: having an uncloven hoof. roan gelding, 14h: gelded horse of bay, sorrel or chestnut color, fourteen hands high. erigible: erectable. Saint Leopold’s: (1073–1136), “Leopold the Good,” grandson of Holy Roman Emperor Henry III and patron saint of Austria; Saint Leopold features in the catalogue of saints, 324. amatory: pertaining to love. macadamised: road paving system using tar or bitumen

invented by John Loudon McAdam (1756–1836), Scottish engineer. natation: swimming. wherry: light rowing-boat. curricle: small wickerwork boat (usually spelled “coracle,” a “curricle” being a light carriage), used by ancient Britons and contemporary Irish and Welsh fishermen. kedge anchor: small anchor with an iron stock used to reposition a boat. estivation: the passing or spending of the summer. vespertinal: of the evening.

862 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 668

G 17:1620

stripper cows: cows that have almost stopped giving milk. resident magistrate: salaried official assigned to a county, appointed by the Lord Lieutenant. justice of the peace: magistrate appointed by the monarch to a county, town, or other district. Semper paratus: Latin, “always prepared.” M.P., P. C., K. P., L. L. D.: abbreviations for Member of Parliament, Privy Collector, Knight of the Order of St Patrick, Doctor of Law. honoris causa: Latin, “by reason of honor.” court and fashionable intelligence: newspaper heading

used for news of the socially prominent. fluxion: flow. the letter of the law: after 2 Corinthians 3:5–6. law merchant: the system of rules and customs and usages generally recognized and adopted by traders for the regulation of their commercial transactions. traversers in covin: secret agreement between two or more to the detriment of another. venville rights: type of feudal tenure or holding of land. desuetude: disuse. orotund: loud, clear, full speech.

669 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 863

G 17:1640

for Febuary read February

G 17:1660 for par annum read per annum

Society for […] jews: see 172. abjured: renounced. Daniel Magrane and Francis Wade: basis in 1904 Dublin unknown. political theory of colonial (e.g. Canadian) expansion: Canada’s semi-independence from British colonial rule as a plausible model for Home Rule in Ireland. Charles Darwin: 1809–82. The Descent of Man: 1871. The Origin of Species: 1859. James Fintan Lalor: (1807–49) Irish political writer. John Fisher Murray: (1811–65) Irish political

writer. John Mitchel: (1815–75), Irish journalist, leader of the Young Ireland group. J. F. X. O’Brien: (1828–1905), army surgeon in the American Civil War, Irish Fenian rebel, MP for South Mayo and Cork City. agrarian policy of Michael Davitt: sought to use public funds to assist tenants’ land ownership. (M. P. for Cork City): Parnell was elected to represent Cork in 1880. William Ewart Gladstone (M. P.: served 1880–94, for Midlothian, Scotland. British prime

minister 1868–74, 1880–85, and 1892–94. marquess of Ripon and (honest) John Morley (G, inclusion): Home Rule supporters George Frederick Samuel Robinson (1827–1909), First Marquess of Ripon, and the Viscount Morley of Blackburn (1838–1923) were greeted by a massive crowd on February, 1, 1888 (rather than February 2, Joyce’s birthday).

864 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 670

G 17:1680 for posrage read postage for 1878, read 1878),

G 17:1700

rapid but insecure means to opulence: because of the time difference between Ireland and London, racing results could be wired to Bloom in Dublin; see 224. unpressed posrage stamps: impressed postage stamps (G, correction); the stamps listed are not valuable. lagan: goods or wreckage lying on the seabed. A Spanish prisoner’s […] five million pounds sterling: swindle in which an agent seeks funds to secure the release of a wealthy man, innocently imprisoned, who

will reward the contributor. to 32 terms: swindle in which the contractee inadvertently agrees to pay increasing amounts of money for delivered goods. to break the bank at Monte Carlo: to win big like the man in the song; see 285. quadrature of the circle, government premium £1,000,000: the prize for solving the geometrical conundrum; see 484. arenary: sandy. Agendath Netaim, Bleibtreustrasse, Berlin, W.15: see 58.

671 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 865

for according the read according to the

G 17:1720

G 17:1740

Dublin bar: sandbank near Ringsend at Dublin Harbour’s entrance. Poulaphouca or Powerscourt: waterfalls twenty miles south of Dublin. catchment basins: area where rainwater feeds a river. W. H. P.: water horsepower. fluvial fairway: navigable channel in a river. Island Bridge: is on Dublin’s

western edge. charabancs: long vehicle with seats in rows, looking forward. repristination […] Irish waterways: restoration of canals following their neglect in favor of railways. A scheme to connect by tramline the Cattle Market […] with the quays: see 56, 94, 452.

866 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 672

G 17:1760

for wonders read wonder,

protasis […] apodosis: “if” clause and “then” clause in a conditional proposal. Blum Pasha: Hungarian Jewish financier; see 431. Rothschild: famous Jewish family of international bankers. Guggenheim: possibly Meyer Guggenheim (1828–1905), a Swiss Jew. Hirsch: Baron Maurice de Hirsch (1831–96), German banker, philanthropist. Montefiore: Jewish philanthropist; see

57. Morgan: American family of financiers and bankers. Rockefeller: John Davidson Rockefeller (1839–1937), American industrialist with a monopoly on oil in the United States. fortunes in 6 figures: underestimates the billionaire class of the turn of the century. eventually: eventuality (G, correction). 70 years of complete human life: see 632.

673 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 867

G 17:1780

G 17:1800

Vere Foster’s handwriting copybook: produced by Vere Henry Lewis Foster (1819–1900). queen Alexandra: (1844–1925), daughter of King Christian IX of Denmark, wife of Edward VII. Maud Branscombe: English actress; see 353. parasitic plant: mistletoe. Mizpah: Hebrew, “watchtower, guardpost”; from Genesis 31:49. Mr and Mrs Comerford: Neptune View, 11 Leslie Avenue, Dalkey. Home Rule bill of 1886: the first of Gladstone’s two (unsuccessful) Home Rule bills. Higgins), deceased: a cameo scarfpin, property of Rudolph Bloom (born Virag), deceased: 3 typewritten

(G, inclusion). reversed alphabetic: code in which each letter corresponds with its opposite at the other end of the alphabet. boustrophedontic: code in which lines are written alternately from left to right and from right to left. punctated: punctuated (G, correction); code in which full stops stand in for vowels. Modern Society: weekly London magazine. N.IGS./ WI.UU.O X/ W.OKS.MH/ Y.IM: code for MARTHA/ CLIFFORD/ DOLPHINS/ BARN. rubber preservatives: condoms. Royal and Privileged Hungarian Lottery: see 149. buccal coition: oral sex; buccal, of the cheek.

868 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 674

for a1d. ad hesive read a 1d. adhesive

G 17:1820

insert comma after way, delete comma after insuring

G 17:1840

chest 28 in. and 29 ½ in., biceps 9 in. and 10 in.: measurements taken from Sandow’s book but of a man five feet tall and seven stone in weight, unlike Bloom who is five feet nine and eleven stone, four pounds. Wonderworker, Coventry House, South Place, London E. C.: fictional business, actual

address. addressed (erroneously) to Mrs L. Bloom (G, inclusion). thaumaturgic: wonderworking. absentminded beggar: Kipling’s pro-Boer song; see 179. South African campaign: the Boer War; see 155. Miss Callan: nurse; see 356.

675 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 869

G 17:1860

for daguerrotype read daguerreotype

G 17:1880

endowment assurance: life insurance paying an endowment to the insured person at a specified date. Scottish Widows’ Assurance Society: see 363. £18–14–6: a considerable sum of money in 1904. personalty: personal belongings. Canadian 4% (inscribed) government stock (free of stamp duty): actual stock. Catholic Cemeteries’ (Glasnevin) Committee: 4 Rutland (now Parnell) Square East; founded by the Catholic Association in 1828. deedpoll: deed executed by only one party. 52 Clanbrassil street: 52 Lower Clanbrassil Street was in the Jewish neighborhood. Szombathely: see 467. daguerrotype:

early photograph; see 148. (respectively) 1st and 2nd cousin: Stefan Virag would be their second and first cousin, respectively. Szesfehervar: Székesfehérvár, Hungarian town southwest of Budapest. hagadah book: see 118. passage of thanksgiving […] for Pessach (Passover): “for everything, Lord our God, we thank thee and bless thee – be thy name forever blessed by all – as it is written: ‘When you have eaten and are satisfied, you shall bless the Lord your God for the good land he has given you.’ Blessed art thou, O Lord, for the land and the sustenance.” Queen’s hotel, Ennis: see 90, 98.

870 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 676

for four read five

G 17:1900 for tetragrammation read tetragrammaton

das Herz […] Gott […] dein […]: German, “the heart ... God ... your ...” aconite: poison taken by Rudolph; see 637. grains and scruples: pharmaceutical measurements. the prohibition of the use of fleshmeat and milk at one meal: from Exodus 23:19. hebdomadary: weekly. perfervidly: very fervidly. circumcision of male infants: from Genesis 17:9–12. supernatural character of Judaic scripture: belief that the Torah was the word of God directly

given to Moses. ineffability of the tetragrammation: the unspeakable word of four letters that spells the Hebrew name for God, YHWH. sanctity of the sabbath: from Exodus 20:9–10, Deuteronomy 5:12–15. Maria Theresia, empress of Austria, queen of Hungary: (1717–80), Archduchess of Austria, Queen of Bohemia and Hungary, wife of Holy Roman Emperor Francis I. poor rate: parish tax for the support of the poor.

677 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 871

G 17:1920

for grooseberry read gooseberry

G 17:1940

gooseberry fool: dessert of stewed gooseberries mixed with cream. negative irrational unreal quantity: negative number, any number less than zero; irrational number, number that cannot be expressed as a fraction; unreal number, an imaginary number whose square is a negative number. helotic: of poverty, after a caste

of serfs in ancient Sparta. dun: someone collecting payment on a debt; see 39. Old Man’s House (Royal Hospital), Kilmainham: the Royal Hospital for Ancient and Maimed Officers and Soldiers, Inchicore Road, Kilmainham. Simpson’s Hospital: on Great Britain (now Parnell) Street.

872 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 678

G 17:1960

delete comma after reunite, insert comma after multiplication

ratesupported: persons who received parish relief under the Poor Law. latration: barking. educed: led or developed in a particular direction. hachures: lines on a map to indicate the steepness of a hill. cliffs of Moher: on the west coast of County Clare. windy wilds of Connemara: rugged area in County Galway; see 382. lough Neagh with submerged petrified city: according to legend, Lough Neagh sprang from a magical fountain. Giant’s Causeway: peninsula of basalt columns; see 329. Fort Camden and Fort Carlisle: see 580. Golden Vale of Tiperrary: area

of rich pastureland in Munster. islands of Aran: off Galway Bay. royal Meath: County Meath was one of the original provinces of ancient Ireland. Brigid’s elm in Kildare: St Brigid founded a religious community in 490 at Cilldara, Irish, “Church of the Oak,” now Kildare. Queen’s Island shipyard in Belfast: major ship-building center on the man-made Queen’s Island. Salmon Leap: waterfall on the Liffey at Leixlip, west of Dublin. lakes of Killarney: scenic attraction, County Kerry; catalogued 318.

679 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 873

G 17:1980

for Major read Maior

for Major read Maior for reveated read revealed

G 17:2000

mosque of Omar: named after Caliph Omar (c.582–644), built in 688 on the site of Solomon’s Temple in Jerusalem. gate of Damascus: main gate to ancient Jerusalem. Parthenon: Athena’s temple on the Acropolis. Plaza de Toros: in La Línea de la Concepción, Spain, across the border from Gibraltar. O’Hara: Royal Welsh Fusilier, bullfighter, “Don Juan” O’Hara. Niagara (over which no human being: Anna Edson Taylor rode the waterfall in a barrel in 1901. Eskimos (eaters of soap): European myth; the Inuit diet includes tallow and blubber. Thibet (from which

no traveller returns): Tibet was closed to the west until 1904; after Hamlet (iii.i.79–80). Naples (to see which was to die): after “See Naples and die.” the Dead Sea: see 59. septentrional: northern. polestar: Polaris, the north star. meridional: southern. carnose: fleshy. pillar of the cloud by day: see 137. occultation: hidden from the eye or understanding. Everyman: see 368. Noman: Odysseus’s pseudonym. the friends of Everyman: in the morality play: Fellowship, Kindred, Cousin, Goods, and Good Deeds; see 368. nymph immortal: Calypso, in the Odyssey.

874 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 680

for hea would her read he would hear G 17:2020

for or read or of

insert colon after invisible, insert colon after perilous

G 17:2040

summons of recall: Hermes is sent to tell Calypso to release Odysseus. Northern Crown: Corona Borealis. estranged avenger […] dark crusader: on returning, Odysseus kills Penelope’s suitors and the maids who consorted with them; Edmond Dantès, from The Count of Monte Cristo (1844), “that dark avenger” (P 52). sleeper awakened: Rip Van Winkle; see 360. the silver king: possibly Horace Tabor (1830–99); in The Silver King, Henry Arthur Jones and Henry Newman’s (1851–1929) 1882 play, and George Irving’s 1919 film, a man is framed for murder, flees to America,

becomes rich, and returns in disguise to clear his name. statue of Narcissus, sound without echo: a solitary form, rather than the person whom Echo loves in Metamorphoses; see 663. burnt offering: ancient Jewish ritual. holy of holies: inner sanctum of the Temple at Jerusalem where the ark of the covenant was kept. bath (rite of John): John’s baptism of Jesus, Matthew 3. funeral (rite of Samuel): 1 Samuel 28:3. Urim and Thummim: Hebrew, “light,” “perfection”; symbols on high priest’s breastplate.

681 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 875

G 17:2060

G 17:2080

unsubstantial lunch (rite of Melchizedek): the high priest’s noonday fast, Genesis 14:18. Simchath Torah: Hebrew, “Rejoice in the Law,” from the last day of the Sukkoth, Feast of the Tabernacles. Shira Shirim: Hebrew, “Song of Songs,” read during the Sukkoth. holocaust: originally Greek, a wholly burnt sacrificial offering. a blank period of time: Ulysses does not represent Bloom and Cunningham’s visit to Paddy Dignam’s widow, between “Cyclops” and “Nausicaa.” wilderness: the Israelites’ wanderings, Exodus 13:18. rite of Onan: Onan spills his seed, Genesis 38:8–10.

heave offering: raised or elevated offering, Leviticus 7:32, Numbers 5:9. Armageddon: the great battle of end times, Revelations 16:16; see 555. atonement: Yom Kippur; see 42, 145, 453. Where was Moses when the candle went out?: riddle; 1901 song “Where Was Moses When the Light Went Out?” words by Andrew B. Sterling (1874–1955), music by Harry Von Tilzer (1872– 1946). Bloom, walking, charged with collected articles of recently disvested male wearing apparel, silently, successively (G, inclusion). performance of Leah: see 73, 89.

876 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 682

for a accordion read an accordion G 17:2100

Rehoboth: Hebrew, “broad places”; Molly lived at Rehoboth Terrace before marrying Bloom. parallel lines meeting at infinity, if produced: in Riemannian geometry, rather than Euclidean. opoponax, jessamine: Molly’s favored scents; see 357. Muratti’s Turkish cigarettes: popular brand of cigarettes. batiste: type of fine light fabric made of cotton or linen. moirette: imitation moiré, rippled,

silk. cretonne: usually heavy cotton fabric, originally woven from hemp and linen. Orangekeyed: with a Greek decorative border; see 61. Henry Price, basket, fancy goods […]: combines Henry Price, hardware, chandlery, and fancy goods, 27 South Great George’s Street, 16 Fade Street, with George Price, basket, fancy goods, and ironmongery merchant, 21–23 Moore Street.

683 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 877

G 17:2120

G 17:2140

brass quoits: decorative flattened rings; see 54. Royal Dublin Society’s Horse Show: see 117. Dr Francis Brady: see 545. Father Sebastian of Mount Argus: Father Sebastian Keens of St Paul’s College of the

Passionist Fathers, Mount Argus, Harold’s Cross. a bester: person who gets the better of others by dishonest means, a swindler.

878 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 684

G 17:2160

G 17:2180

concupiscence: eager or vehement desire. epicene: relating to people, animals, or things that are indeterminate in respect of sex. natured nature: translation of natura naturata, medieval Latin phrase

associated with the philosopher Baruch Spinoza, for whom it means nature as a created entity or system, whatever follows from God’s nature; Spinoza pairs it with natura naturans, “nature naturing,” that is, God.

685 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 879

G 17:2200

impossibly. Hush money by moral influence, possibly. If any (G, inclusion). emulation: the endeavor to equal or surpass another, rivalry. frangibility: fragility. presupposed intangibility of

the thing in itself: German philosopher Immanuel Kant’s (1724–1804) concept in Critique of Pure Reason of the Ding an Sich, the “thing in itself” or noumenon, knowable to us only through our senses.

880 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 686

G 17:2220

G 17:2240

aorist: in Ancient Greek, the perfective aspect, i.e. involving simple discrete actions. preterite: past tense. nescient: ignorant. the land of the midnight sun: the Arctic or Antarctica. islands of the blessed: ancient name of the Canary Islands; any imagined ideal lands. isles of Greece: from Byron’s Don Juan

(1821). land of promise: Canaan; from Genesis 12:5– 7, Exodus 3:8. adipose: regarding tissue storing body fat. milk and honey: from Exodus 3:8. osculation: kissing. velation: veiling, concealment, secrecy. catechetical: pertaining to the method of instruction by questions and answers.

687 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 881

G 17:2260

for 2 calendar months read 1 calendar month

G 17:2280

Wynn’s (Murphy’s) Hotel 35, 36 and 37 Lower Abbey street: Commercial and Family Hotel, Mr D. J. Murphy, proprietor. peccaminous: sinful. entituled: titled. Sweets of Sin: see 226. postcenal: after dinner. 8 September 1870: Molly’s birthday; the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary. with ejaculation of semen within the natural female

organ: English version of Conmee’s Latin phrase; see 214. 29 December 1893: Rudy Bloom’s birthday; feast day of St Thomas à Becket (c.1118–70), archbishop of Canterbury. a period of 10 years, 5 months and 18 days: it is, in fact, ten years, six months and twenty days since November 27, 1893.

882 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Ithaca” · 688

G 17:2300

catamenic hemorrhage: onset of menstruation. 15 September 1903: date of Milly’s first menstrual period; feast day of Our Lady of Sorrows. listener and narrator: Molly and Bloom, recalling Penelope and Odysseus in Book 33 of the Odyssey. 53rd parallel

of latitude, N. and 6th meridian of longitude, W: Dublin lies at 53˚ 20’38” North and 6˚17’30” West. Gea-Tellus: Gea, Gaia, Ge, personification of the Earth and original mother of all beings; Tellus, Roman equivalent of Gaia.

689 · “Ithaca”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 883

G 17:2320

for eggin read egg in

Sinbad the Sailor and Tinbad the Tailor […] Whinbad the Whaler: characters from the pantomime Sinbad the Sailor; see 631. roc’s auk’s egg: in the Arabian Nights, Sinbad finds the egg of a roc, a giant

mythical bird of prey, and hides beside it so he can tie himself to the bird and be carried away; auk: diving seabird in the Alcidae family. ■ The final punctuation mark has been the subject of much dispute.

18 · “PENELOPE” Catherine Flynn

Ulysses ends in the middle of the night in the bedroom of 7 Eccles Street in the thoughts and memories of Molly Bloom. As she lies next to a sleeping Bloom, her long stream of words creates an unprecedented sense of intimacy with the reader, as well as a sense of her own isolation. This ending is quite a departure from the Odyssey, which closes in a display of patriarchal strength: Odysseus, flanked by his father and his son, fighting off the Ithacans who rise up against him for killing the hundred local lords who courted his wife and squandered his wealth; only divine intervention ends the conflict. Joyce chooses to end his novel in a domestic space and with a female voice. Why? Does anything even happen in “Penelope”? Yes and no. Molly thinks and remembers. She hears a train go by. She discovers that her menstrual period has begun. She gets up to use the chamber pot, finds a sanitary napkin, and gets back into bed, all the while thinking and remembering. We might ask, as critics have done, whether the episode is feminist or sexist. Is “Penelope” an unprecedented platform for female consciousness, a groundbreaking representation of the personal, or a representation of a female character on the margins of the action, with a focus on the limits of her woman’s body? The episode is all of these things and its achievement, Molly’s achievement, is made through them. “Penelope,” in the quiet margins of Ulysses, is the novel’s culmination. Richard Ellmann gives us a brief and undocumented account of Joyce’s intentions for the episode: “At first he thought of constructing

the chapter out of a series of letters written by Molly Bloom, but he soon saw that it must be a female monologue to balance Stephen’s male monologue earlier in the book” (  JJ 501). This prompts us to ask if Molly, lying awake in the middle of the night, also offers an answer to the problems articulated by Stephen Dedalus at the beginning of the novel. As we know well by now, Stephen sees himself as oppressed by two institutions, the Catholic Church and the British Empire, and as in service to a third entity that he never names. Throughout Ulysses, we witness his struggle for autonomy, which reaches a dramatic and futile climax in his smashing of the lamp in Bella Cohen’s brothel, and which finds further, somewhat disheartening expression in his refusal of Bloom’s o ­ ffer of shelter for the night. But we find an answer to his problems in Molly’s idiosyncratic expression in a life that has been thoroughly determined for her, in the episode’s play and constraint. The daughter of Royal Dublin Fusiliers drum-major Brian Cooper Tweedy, Molly has an intimate knowledge of the British Empire. She grew up on the island of Gibraltar, a key colonial holding at the mouth of the Mediterranean, “the center of the military life of England.”1 In her girlhood, Molly was surrounded by imperial ideology, lighting the pipes 1  Susan Bazargan, “Mapping Gibraltar: Colonialism, Time, and Narrative in ‘Penelope,’” in Molly Blooms: A Polylogue on “Penelope” and Cultural Studies, ed. Richard Pearce (Madison and London, University of Wisconsin Press, 1994), 119–38.

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30 Lancers and spectators attend the Queen’s visit to Dublin, Merrion Square

of her father and his friend Captain Groves as they talked about “Rorkes drift and Plevna and sir Garnet Wolseley and Gordon at Khartoum” (708; 18:690–91). She exchanged one British colony for another in moving from Gibraltar to Dublin.2 As a grown woman in Dublin, she signals support for the British in the Boer War (1899–1902) by singing Rudyard Kipling’s “The Absentminded Beggar” and wearing a brooch for commander-in-chief Lord Roberts, actions which cause her to be dropped from future performances at St Teresa’s Hall in favor of singers of an Irish nationalist cast. In addition to imperial rule, Dublin is also subject to the

2  For discussions of Ireland’s colonial status, see works listed under “History, Politics, Nationalism, and Postcolonialism” in the Further Reading section, including Vincent J. Cheng’s Joyce, Race, and Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995) and Derek Attridge and Marjorie Howes, eds., Semicolonial Joyce (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000).

rule of the Catholic Church. Whereas Stephen refused to pray with his dying mother, visits brothels, and quotes the atheist philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, Molly goes to confession, is married, and sometimes, perhaps unthinkingly, prays. Her third master is the condition of being a woman in lower middle-class 1904 Dublin. In “Penelope,” Molly thinks as a person thrust into a female body, trying to make sense of it. She laments the constraints of her body and her gender: “God knows theres always something wrong with us 5 days every 3 or 4 weeks usual monthly auction isnt it simply sickening” (719; 18:1108–10). She remembers the labor of birth and breastfeeding, “what I went through with Milly nobody would believe” (694; 18:158–59), and wonders why women have the bodies that they do: “whats the idea making us like that with a big hole in the middle of us” (694; 18:151–52). She remembers the friendships she enjoyed with

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18 Eccles Street

Josie Breen and Hester Stanhope before the pressures of ­courtship and marriage separated them. She thinks of the loneliness of married women’s lives, envying men’s social freedom, “they have friends they can talk to weve none” (728; 18:1456–57). She doesn’t identify entirely with the female parts of her body but looks appreciatively on her soft skin, her plump breasts and buttocks. She thinks of the pleasure men take in women and envies them, “God I wouldnt mind being a man and get up on a lovely woman” (720; 18:1146–47).

Many readers have in fact defined Molly entirely in terms of her body and her adulterous affair with Hugh “Blazes” Boylan. While more recent critics have seen the long list of her lovers in “Ithaca” as a product of Bloom’s paranoid jealousy and of that episode’s hyperbole, some early critics reasoned “If to one, why not to all” and called her “a dirty joke … a whore”; Kathleen McCormick argues that it was to contain such subversive female sexuality and to sanitize Ulysses so that it might circulate as high literature that critics subsequently abstracted Molly into an

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archetypal everywoman and an earth goddess.3 This more positive focus on her physical and sexual nature has also featured in f­eminist readings of “Penelope.” Recently, for example, Vike Martina Plock has argued that Molly’s “sexual adventure blatantly violates the image of domestic bliss and motherhood” that restricted women in the Victorian period; her shrewd reflections on doctors points to coercive and violent medical practices regarding women.4 Most strikingly, Luce Irigaray sees the episode’s long, unpunctuated sentences and unclear pronouns as mimicking the maternal body in a kind of language that transgresses the syntax and grammar of patriarchal speech; “Penelope” is an écriture féminine, or feminine writing, that involves “nearness, proximity, but in such an extreme form that it would preclude any distinction of identities, any establishment of ownership, thus any form of appropriation.”5 Derek Attridge places this reading in a long tradition of reading “Penelope” as “loose and flowing language,” as “a flowering river,” “an incredible torrent of reminiscence,” and so on.6 Yet, as he points out, the language in “Penelope” is relatively conventional (although, we might add, in a particular Dublin register); Molly’s sentences actually display “greater syntactic correctness and explicitness” than Bloom’s stream of consciousness; any sense of flow is a result of the visual effect of a lack of punctuation and of Molly’s “free mental energy moving rapidly from topic to topic.”7 Molly’s free association might indicate her independence from standardized thinking. It 3  Kathleen McCormick, “Reproducing Molly Bloom: A Revisionist History of the Reception of ‘Penelope’, 1922–1970,” in Molly Blooms, ed. Pearce, 17, at 30. 4  Vike Martina Plock, “Jack the Ripper and the Family Physician: Gynaecology and Domestic Medicine in ‘Penelope,’” in Joyce, “Penelope” and the Body, ed. Richard Brown (Amsterdam and New York: Brill Rodopi, 2006), 129–43. 5  Luce Irigaray, This Sex Which Is Not One, trans. Catherine Porter with Carolyn Burke (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1985), 134. 6  Derek Attridge, “Molly’s Flow: The Writing of ‘Penelope’ and the Question of Women’s Language,” Modern Fiction Studies 35:3 (Fall 1989), 543–65. 7  Ibid., 545.

might also, as some critics have argued, associate her with sexist stereotypes of female muddle-headedness. What’s more, such a drift might also signify a passive acquiescence. Yet the key aspect of the “Penelope” episode is Molly’s particular energy, her idiosyncratic voice. This can be hard to hear at first in the eight long, almost entirely unpunctuated sentences. As we become accustomed to the episode, however, we start to hear the characteristic rhythms of her phrasing in the visually unbroken succession of words. While Molly speaks in conventional language, the way that she speaks that language is unique in its rhythms, associations, and variations. Take, for example, a passage in which Molly remembers the onset of another particularly heavy menses, as she sat with Bloom in an opera box during a performance of The Wife of Scarli at the Gaiety Theatre: I was fit to be tied though I wouldnt give in with that gentleman of fashion staring down at me with his glasses and him the other side of me talking about Spinoza and his soul thats dead I suppose millions of years ago I smiled the best I could all in a swamp leaning forward as if I was interested having to sit it out then to the last tag I won’t forget that wife of Scarli in a hurry supposed to be a fast play about adultery that idiot in the gallery hissing the woman adulteress he shouted I suppose he went and had a woman in the next lane running round all the back ways after to make up for it I wish he had what I had then hed boo. (719; 18:1113–21)

It’s no coincidence that after sleeping with Boylan, Molly remembers a public scene of hostility towards an adulteress, even during a play that represents her sympathetically. This moment might support the worst image of Molly: as amoral, as vainly concerned with selfdisplay, relentlessly unintellectual, encumbered by her body. Yet Molly bears her physical suffering silently, under the strain of maintaining an attractive exterior for an insistent male gaze. In bed now, she reimagines the moment: if the heckling man has the luxury of a body that is free from burdensome reproductive functions, she pictures an alternative scenario in which he shouts out in temper at the onset of a heavy

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menstrual period, “I wish he had what I had then hed boo.” There is a playful rhythm to her humorous fantasy, a joyful variation on the given. The passage has the rhythmic energy we can hear throughout the episode, a rhythm which distinguishes Molly. This moment in the Gaiety Theatre is one of the occasions that both Molly and Bloom remember, and while their memories usually overlap, Bloom is mistaken about Molly’s experience. In “Sirens,” he thinks: She looked fine. Her crocus dress she wore, lowcut, belongings on show. Clove her breath was always in theatre when she bent to ask a question. Told her what Spinoza says in that book of poor papa’s. Hypnotised, listening. Eyes like that. She bent. Chap in dresscircle, staring down into her with his operaglass for all he was worth. Beauty of music you must hear twice. Nature woman half a look. God made the country man the tune. Met him pike hoses. Philosophy. O rocks! (273; 11:1056–62)

Bloom amusedly thinks here of Molly’s dismissal of philosophy, repeating her exasperated exclamation from that morning. In the theater, he perseveres in telling her about Spinoza, a seventeenth-century Dutch philosopher who is especially meaningful to him: sitting on a shelf in their bedroom is Thoughts from Spinoza, his father’s copy (661; 17:1372). Spinoza, too, was Jewish, as Bloom declared to the increasingly irate citizen at the end of “Cyclops,” although he was excommunicated from the Jewish community because of “abominable heresies.” Spinoza’s heretical philosophy is of key significance for Ulysses and for “Penelope” ­especially. It can be summed up in his emblematic phrase Deus, sive Natura, “God, or Nature.” God, in Spinoza’s view, is not transcendent or supernatural; God is nature. There is, accordingly, no transcendent, immortal soul. Molly indeed remembers Bloom telling her: “you have no soul only grey matter” (695; 18:141– 42). According to Spinoza, we each have an essence: a “ratio of motion and rest.”8 This 8  E2p13l5; Benedictus de Spinoza, A Spinoza Reader: The Ethics and Other Works, ed. E. M. Curley (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), 127.

r­ atio characterizes both the mind and the body, which operate in parallel with one another. This parity of the mental and the physical is especially appealing for Bloom, with his sense of the fundamental importance of the body, and his awareness of his thoughts flowing alongside his sensations. We are each a kind of living pattern, Spinoza thinks, and we constantly strive to preserve that pattern, to act upon the world according to our essence rather than to be acted upon by it.9 The more our actions express our nature, the more we’re free, and the more joy we feel. Joyce indicates the parallel action of the mental and the physical in “Penelope” when he outlines his intentions for the episode to Budgen: “I am going to leave the last word with Molly Bloom – the final episode Penelope being written through her thoughts and body Poldy being then asleep” (italics added).10 Spinoza’s idea of a characteristic parallel action suggests an answer to a persistent question about the ­episode: what, in fact, are we reading? Some critics have focused on the episode’s orality, arguing that it is a dramatic soliloquy or an interior monologue. However, others have pointed to the many signs that it is a piece of writing: the spelling errors, the crossings out, the eccentric capitalization, the use of numerals, and so on. John Smurthwaite proposes an intriguing form: “a piece of writing that Molly’s visual imagination may be said to read as part of the very process by which she writes it.”11 This might indeed be so, although it is difficult to imagine. The episode can be more clearly understood as a representation of Molly’s distinctive proportion of motion and rest. Our struggle to hear this ratio in the episode is a version of Molly’s challenge to enact it within the determining factors of her life. 9  “Each thing, as far as it can by its own power, strives to persevere in its own being,” E3p6; Spinoza, A Spinoza Reader, 159. See also Steven Nadler, “Eternity and Immortality in Spinoza’s Ethics,” Midwest Studies in Philosophy 26 (2002), 224–44, at 233. 10  Letter to Frank Budgen, December 10, 1920, L I, 151–52, SL, 274. 11  John Smurthwaite, “Verbal or Visual?: ‘Penelope’ and Contemporary Psychology,” in Joyce, “Penelope” and the Body, ed. Brown, 75–83, at 83.

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So what is Molly’s, and the episode’s, ratio of rest and motion? Although Spinoza resorted to mathematical formulae to represent these proportions, Joyce was never a slavish follower of philosophy, preferring to use the concepts that inspired him in his own way. Most obviously, in “Penelope” we encounter an active mind in a passive body. But more specifically, we can think of Molly as a degree of movement in relation to the constraints of her environment, one that we might characterize as moderate rebellion. She commits adultery, but remains with Bloom. She thinks about sex with women, but makes love only with men. She doubts in the sanctity of the Church, but prays to God. She flouts rules, but is not revolutionary. We might describe her position as conservative – and it is, in contrast to figures such as the politically active Miss Ivors in the Dubliners story “The Dead” or the sexually and economically dominant Bella Cohen in the “Circe” episode – were it not for the radical pleasures she generates through her moderate rebellions. Her creative resistance within the determining elements of her existence is exemplified by her understanding of her adultery as an expression of her nature: “what else were we given all those desires for Id like to know” (726–27; 18:1397–98). In this joyful expression of her nature, she is free. Molly’s skills as a singer exemplify her creativity within the given: her ability to animate a musical score, to interpret and reinterpret the notes on the page. Molly thinks carefully about emphasis, praising Simon Dedalus’s care in phrasing: “sweetheart he always sang it not like Bartell D’Arcy sweet tart” (724; 18:1295–96). Bloom admires her skill in expressing the fluttering of Zerlina’s heart in Don Giovanni: “Mi trema un poco il. Beautiful on that tre her voice is: weeping tone” (90; 6:239–40). We can see her expressive ability in her use of the word “yes.” Ellmann tells us that Joyce was inspired to use the word repeatedly in the episode when he overheard a female friend in conversation with a young painter repeat “the word ‘yes’ over and over in different tones of voice” (JJ 516). Indeed, the word features ninety-two times in the first edition, climaxing in the famously rhapsodic

final passage. As Molly repeats the word, it marks a rhythm in her long sentences. She gives it many different inflections, often complex in tone: convinced contradiction, “what do they ask us to marry them for if were so bad as all that comes to yes because they cant get on without us” (696; 18:238–40); surprised realization, “wait by God yes wait yes hold on he was on the cards this morning” (724; 18:1313–14); and, perhaps most complex of all, defiant cooperation, “let him know if thats what he wanted that his wife is fucked yes and damn well fucked too” (729–30; 18:1510–11). This multiply modulated “yes” is her creative affirmation of the given. That Molly reshapes the matter of her existence might help us understand what Joyce means when he writes of “yes” as a female word, in a description of the workings of the episode that might seem bluntly sexist: Penelope is the clou of the book. The first sentence contains 2500 words. There are eight sentences in the episode. It begins and ends with the female word yes. It turns like the huge earth ball slowly surely and evenly round and round spinning, its four cardinal points being the female breasts, arse, womb and cunt expressed by the words because, bottom (in all senses bottom button, bottom of the class, bottom of the sea, bottom of his heart), woman, yes. Though probably more obscene than any preceding episode it seems to me to be perfectly sane full amoral fertilisable untrustworthy engaging shrewd limited prudent indifferent Weib. Ich bin der Fleisch der stets bejaht.12

Joyce’s German sentence is his reworking of a threatening declaration made by Mephistopheles in Goethe’s Faust: Ich bin der Geist der stets verneint, “I am the spirit that constantly denies.” In contrast to this devilish negation, Joyce’s Weib, or woman, might sound

12  Letter to Frank Budgen, August 16, 1921, L I, 170, SL, 285. A less essentialist framework is suggested by Joyce’s idea of structuring the episode according to a similar but less well-known group of words which he called the episode’s “wobbling points”: “woman,” “bottom,” “he,” and “man.” Qtd. Richard Brown, “Body Words,” in Joyce, “Penelope” and the Body, 26.

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problematically consenting: “I am the flesh that constantly affirms.” The infinity symbol that Joyce used to define the time of the episode in the Linati schema has suggested to some readers that the episode caricatures a female body, with breasts or buttocks, or both, and that the period in the center of the episode, after the fourth sentence, is an anus (although by a similar logic it might be a navel). Yet if “Penelope” suggests the form of a woman’s body, it is not an object but an inhabited form. Molly’s fleshly affirmation is not blank acquiescence or uniform agreement but an affirmation made through the flesh, despite its many determining conditions. Molly herself forces us to complicate Joyce’s words when she comments on Bloom’s attraction to her bottom: “hed kiss anything unnatural where we havent 1 atom of any kind of expression in us all of us the same two lumps of lard” (727; 18:1402–4). “Penelope” is all about Molly’s idiosyncratic expression, her bending of verbal material into distinctive phrases. There is a joy to her use of language, a lip-smacking pleasure in her verbiage even when she describes her woes. Here she is complaining about being surprised by unexpected callers: “answer the door you think its the vegetables then its somebody and you all undressed or the door of the filthy sloppy kitchen blows open” (699; 18:333–35). Piling up redundant adjectives and using nouns in nonstandard ways, she makes language her own. Whereas Stephen expresses his sense of captivity in the language of the master, Molly’s complaints are creative and pleasurable. Molly’s capacity to recast the given offers her a different view of the institutions that dominated Stephen’s consciousness. Instead of the abstract concept of the British Empire, she thinks of handsome soldiers: “the lancers O the lancers theyre grand” (700; 18:402; see Figure 30, p. 885). This appreciation is based on the pleasures she has experienced with her first boyfriend, Mulvey, and her more recent beau, Lieutenant Gardner. It is free of jingoism: the death of Gardner of enteric fever in South Africa deepened her dislike of war and of politics (700; 18:396–97). She feels sympathy for the soldiers in the hot sun of Gibraltar and for Mulvey’s isolation in imperial service, “the Spanish girls he didnt like I suppose one

of them wouldnt have him” (710; 18:776–77). In a related manner, she erotically recasts the Catholic Church, fantasizing about having a sexual encounter with a priest dressed in his vestments and smelling of incense; in this fantasy she bends or even travesties the Church’s rules and traditions, “then give something to H H the pope for a penance” (693; 18:121). Whereas Stephen finds no place in a world whose limits he theorizes so accurately, Molly participates idiosyncratically in the limited world in which she finds herself. She is not a reformer: not a nationalist nor an atheist nor a women’s rights activist. She questions but doesn’t resist her biologically and socially given role: “whats the idea making us like that with a big hole in the middle of us like a Stallion driving it up into you because thats all they want out of you with that determined vicious look in his eye” (694; 18:151–53). If this is a potentially alarming description of heteronormative intercourse with Boylan, her subsequent comment transforms his masculinist ways into an enjoyable spectacle: “you might as well be in bed with what with a lion” (726; 18:1376–77). If Molly observes that in her world women bear greater physical demands and greater social constraints, her capacity to pleasurably inhabit that world nonetheless is the sign of her strength, even her heroism. This is the novel’s culminating achievement: to show how to be a full person within the challenges into which one is born, through a determined performance of oneself that brings pleasure. That “Penelope” is a human affirmation suggests an answer to the question often raised of the episode: is it the fantastical performance of a woman by a male author? Karen Lawrence articulates the danger this way, “Perhaps one can say that Molly represents the problem of woman represented by the male pen, a staging of alterity that reveals itself as a masquerade.”13 One might conclude that the experience of being a woman can only be given expression by a woman. Yet this would imply that being a woman is an essential and uniform experience, rather than an engagement with a changing 13  Karen Lawrence, “Joyce and Feminism,” in The Cambridge Companion to James Joyce, ed. Derek Attridge (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 253.

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set of conditions and array of roles. As we have seen, Molly reflects, with some distance, on the various phases her body has passed through. She knows herself as a ratio of motion and rest persisting through all sorts of bodily changes and experiences. Kimberly Devlin lists the various personae she takes on over the course of the episode: “She stages herself as Venus in furs, the indignant protective spouse, the jealous domestic detective, the professional singer, the professional seductress or femme fatale, the teenage flirt, the teenage naif, the unrepentant adulteress, the guilt-ridden adulteress, the narcissistic child, the exasperated mother, the ­pining romantic, the cynical scold, the female seer/fortuneteller […] the frustrated housewife, the female confidante and adviser, the female misogynist, et cetera, et cetera.”14 In discussing the variety of this performance, Devlin distinguishes between masquerade, the inhabitation of a role, and mimicry, a form of ironic and critical imitation. Molly slips between the two, according to Devlin: “Her vacillation between the two positions supports the theoretical claim that there is no permanent critical vantage outside ideology.”15 Like Stephen, Molly finds no outside to the given world; her response is to perform within it, creatively reworking the roles it affords with the same gusto that she brings to conventional figures of speech. In her shifting and contradictory role-play, Molly echoes Homer’s heroine. Penelope’s name is often understood as pene-ops, or weft-face, an etymology that evokes the ruse for which she is celebrated at the end of the Odyssey: her promise to the suitors that she would only marry again once she had finished weaving a shroud for her father-in-law, a work in progress which she unraveled each night. Odysseus, too, adopted a series of aliases and ruses in his long journey home: old man, Noman, beggar, and god. Classicists use the term homophrosyne to discuss their likemindedness; while earlier scholars dismissed this as a possibility – when do husbands and

14  Kimberly J. Devlin, “Pretending in ‘Penelope’: Masquerade, Mimicry, and Molly Bloom,” in Molly Blooms, ed. Pearce, 81. 15  Ibid., 84.

wives ever agree? – more recently, scholars have come to recognize their shared qualities of self-sufficiency and self-possession.16 “Penelope” reveals that Molly and Bloom display a similar homophrosyne. While Bloom displays a lack of possessiveness, Molly tolerates the possibility of his adultery, as long as she knows about it (691; 18:53–55). Her admiration for him is largely based on characteristics she too possesses: his composure, his resistance to manipulation, and his capacity to determine his responses to events. In a surprising new angle on Bloom’s status as cuckold, Molly suspects that he sent Milly away to make possible her affair with Boylan, “thats why he did it Im certain the way he plots and plans everything out” (716; 18:1008–9). This suspicion casts new light on Bloom’s thought in “Sirens” that sexual activity is necessary for a woman’s flourishing, an idea that Molly herself voices (727; 18:1407–8). Penelope tests Odysseus’s sincerity by suggesting she do the impossible: move their bed, which he built around a living olive tree, something that only he knows. While Molly, on the other hand, misleads Bloom about the origins of their bed, “he thinks father bought it from Lord Napier” (722; 18:1213–14), we can see her sleeping in it with Boylan as a similar provocation. Readers sometimes wonder if Molly’s concluding affirmation is specific to Bloom and to the present as the episode ends in her thoughts of their past erotic experiences on Howth Head, mixed with memories of Mulvey in Gibraltar, and anticipations of Stephen in Dublin “shall I wear a red yes” (732; 18:1603); moreover, the passage closes with many unspecific references to “he” and “his.” The episode’s unusual form answers this question in a different way. Although Molly’s thoughts progress in some way, “Penelope” is not structured around a plot, in the traditional sense of a series of causally related events that culminate in the resolution of a central problem. As each quasisentence springs from and displaces the one before it, in a characteristic ratio of rest and motion, the events of Molly’s life are ­assembled 16  Thomas Van Nortwick, The Unknown Odysseus: Alternate Worlds in Homer’s “Odyssey” (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2010), 17.

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free of linear narration. Accordingly, this unusual form signals importance not through trajectory but proportion: we can judge Molly’s love for Bloom by how much and how often she thinks of him. Her thoughts constantly returning to him, she mirrors his own thinking of her throughout the day. Molly herself offers us an account of such a bond: “to find two people like that nowadays full up of each other that would feel the same way as you do theyre usually a bit foolish in the head” (718; 18:1059– 61). What we might call Molly’s mobile fidelity to Bloom is part of her ongoing expression of her being. Molly has often been linked to Joyce’s lifelong partner and wife, Nora Barnacle. Brenda Maddox observes that Galway, the western harbor city in which Nora spent her girlhood was like Gibraltar, a gateway to a wider world and one at which British soldiers were stationed. Joyce drew in “Penelope” on Nora’s sexual experiences, her unpunctuated writing style, and

even, Maddox conjectures, the obscene letters she wrote to him in 1909. But Maddox also points to other women in whom Joyce found inspiration for Molly: in Dublin, Trieste, and Paris. Ellmann reports that Joyce used to tease two young American artists in Paris by saying “that Molly Bloom was sitting at another table in the restaurant, and they would try to guess which woman she was, always without success. This game he continued for years” (JJ 516). This riddle suggests another model for Molly: Joyce himself, writing the “Penelope” episode in Paris, stretched out almost flat, until three or later in the mornings.17 Living in the rhythms of her roles and turns of phrase, Molly is allied to Joyce’s reworking in Ulysses of a massive repertoire of discourses and literary forms, to his commitment to represent the world as it is, but in doing so to transform it. 17  Derek Attridge, “Joyce’s Composition of Penelope,” in Joyce, “Penelope” and the Body, ed. Brown, 58.

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G 18:20

old faggot: (derogative slang) old woman. had a great leg of: Hiberno-English, to have influence with. masses […] for her soul: masses to shorten

her time in Purgatory. dring: Scottish-English, push, drive. the south circular: ring road around Dublin city.

691 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 895

G 18:40

G 18:60

the hotel story he made up: Molly sees through Bloom’s fiction of dinner at Wynn’s Hotel. Pooles Myrioana: Charles W. Poole’s traveling show was a travelogue with running commentary, featuring a large

picture made up of separate, movable sections. stupoes: fools. oysters 2/6 per doz: Molly at least doubles the standard price for oysters.

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for deuying read denying

G 18:80

G 18:100

I gave her her weeks notice. I saw to that (G, reinsertion of displaced lines). W C: water closet. the Tolka: river that runs through the northside of Dublin. the young May Moon shes beaming love: Thomas

Moore’s song; see 159. the jews Temples gardens: by the synagogue on Adelaide Road. German Emperor: either Kaiser Wilhelm I (1797–1888) or Kaiser Wilhelm II (1859–1941).

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The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 897

G 18:120

G 18:140

Father Corrigan: see 683. horsecollar: (slang) priest’s collar. give something to H H the pope for a penance: since sinning with a person in holy orders is such a serious offence in the eyes of the Church, Molly seems to be amusing herself with this idea. stagedoor johnnies: wealthy men who seek the

company of actresses. port and potted meat: see 72, 628. thunderbolts in Gibraltar as if the world was coming to an end (G, reinsertion of displaced lines). the candle I lit: custom of lighting a candle in a church to emphasize a prayer.

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G 18:160

G 18:180

(In the 1922 edition, four lines of text were misplaced; this page should begin with the first four lines of the next page.) give us a swing out of your whiskers: (slang) mocking phrase from a time of extravagant facial hair. budgers: possibly, highly mobile children; a budger is a person who budges or stirs. Jesusjack the child is a black: a popular Dublin catchphrase according to Vincent Deane. ram it down my neck it

was on account of (G, inclusion). about Our Lord being a carpenter: Mark 6:2–3. the first socialist he said He was: perception based on Jesus’s command to give one’s wealth to the poor, Matthew 19:21. that family physician: likely The Family Physician; a Manual of Domestic Medicine by Physicians and Surgeons of the Principal London Hospitals (1879).

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The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 899

G 18:200

mass or meeting […] was going to: these first four lines belong at the top of the previous page. you have no soul inside only grey matter: possibly a reference to Spinoza’s monist philosophy, which excludes the spiritual. Floey: one of Matthew Dillon’s daughters. plabbery: perhaps from the Irish plaboire, “a fleshy-

faced person with thick, indistinct speech” (Dent) but more likely an onomatopoeic description of Bloom’s manner of speaking. glauming: Hiberno-English, clutching. grigged: Hiberno-English, from griogadh, Irish, “incitement,” irritated, annoyed. make her month water: make her mouth water (G, correction).

900 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 696

G 18:220

G 18:240

when the maggot takes him: idiomatic, when the fancy takes him. Look for £10000 for a postcard up up: see 151. O Sweetheart May: After the song “Sweetheart May” (1895) by Leslie Stuart, in which a little girl asks the singer to marry her but later becomes engaged to another. Mrs Maybrick that poisoned her husband: in 1889, Florence Elizabeth Chandler Maybrick of Liverpool was convicted of poisoning

her husband with arsenic, but her death sentence was subsequently commuted as the patent medicines used by James Maybrick contained arsenic. hed say its from the Greek: “arsenic” derives from the Greek arsenikon, “yellow orpiment.” D B C: Dublin Bread Company, a.k.a. “damn bad cakes”; see 156. Irish Times: in 1904, a Unionist morning paper; see 152.

697 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 901

G 18:260

G 18:280

aquamarine: considered the birthstone for March or October, while chrysolite or sapphire is the stone for September, Molly’s birth month. Katty Lanner: (1831–1915) ballet mistress and choreographer of the English Theatre of Varieties, London, and daughter of the Austrian composer Joseph Lanner (1801–43), creator of the Vienna waltz. because the stoppress edition just passed: Molly can’t hear Bloom over the newsboy hawking the Evening Telegraph 5.30 p.m. edition, named after its central “Stop Press” column.

the Lucan dairy: one of the Lucan Dairy Company shops. Gounods Ave Maria: French composer Charles François Gounod (1818–93), set the Hail Mary to Bach’s First Prelude in 1859. what are we waiting […] the brow and part: from G. J. Whyte-Melville and F. Paolo Tosti’s “Goodbye” (1881). he hadnt an idea about my mother: according to Susan Bazargan, Lunita Laredo was “a local Jew with Moroccan associations, and perhaps a prostitute.” skeezing: (slang) peering covertly.

902 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 698

G 18:300

G 18:320

Zingari colours: Zingari, Italian, “gypsies”; Slote notes dripping. what a Deceiver: deceitfulness is one of that Zingari were a traveling cricket club with green, Odysseus’s key strategies in the Odyssey. the way he purple, pink, and yellow colors. O Maria Santissima: made love: the way he courted Molly. Italian, “O Most Holy Mary.” dreeping: drooping,

699 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 903

G 18:340

G 18:360

the 2 Dedalus girls: Katey and Boody Dedalus live in Cabra to the northwest of Eccles Street. for England home and beauty: from the song, “The Death of Nelson”; see 216. there is a charming girl I love: after “It Is a Charming Girl I Love,” song from the first act of The Lily of Killarney. this day week were to go to

Belfast: see 364. Ennis his fathers anniversary the 27th: see 364. some protestant clergyman: Catholic priests were in the minority in Belfast. theyd have taken us on to Cork: Bloom alights for food when the train stops in Maryborough, now Portlaoise; Cork is twenty miles past Mallow.

904 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 700

G 18:380

G 18:400

St Teresas hall: attached to St Teresa’s Total Abstinence and Temperance Loan Fund Society. Kathleen Kearney: young singer in “A Mother,” Dubliners. father being in the army: hence, assumed to be pro-empire. absentminded beggar: see 179. lord Roberts: commander in chief during the Boer War. Stabat Mater: Rossini’s hymn; see 79. Sinner Fein: Molly’s version of Sinn Féin; see 156. Pretoria and Ladysmith and Bloemfontein: respectively, the capital of the Boer province of Transvaal, a British garrison in Natal, and the capital of the Orange Free State; Ladysmith and Bloemfontein were sites of battles

in the Boer War. Krugers: men loyal to old oom Paul: Stephanus Johannes Paulus Kruger (1825–1904), South African Boer statesman and President of Transvaal. La Roque: probably San Roque, Spanish garrison town close to Gibraltar. Algeciras: seaport in Cadiz, Spain, ten miles from Gibraltar. the 15 acres: area in Phoenix Park used for military reviews. Black Watch […] 10th hussars […] the lancers […] the Dublins: Royal Highlanders; Prince of Wales’ Own Hussars; Lancers (of whom there are several regiments); and Royal Dublin Fusiliers. Tugela: site of a British defeat in 1899. his father: Boylan’s father.

701 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 905

G 18:420

for it it was read it was

G 18:440

washy: pale. scrooching: crouching or bending. Mrs Mastiansky: wife of grocer and former neighbor, Julius Mastiansky. 20 quid he said he lost over that outsider: Boylan lost his bet on the Gold Cup because

of Throwaway. the Glencree dinner: see 148. joult: Hiberno-English, journey. featherbed mountain: one of the Dublin mountains; see 225. Manola: boisterous Spanish street song.

906 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 702

G 18:460

Lewers: ladies’ clothing warehouse on Grafton Street. the Gentlewoman: a sixpenny weekly London magazine. cottage cake: type of plain cake, served with a lemon sauce, also called cottage pudding. God spare his spit for fear hed die of the drouth: expression of contempt for a miser. that antifat: patent medicine.

the 4 years more I have of life up to 35: Molly forgets her actual age and thinks here that women fade at 35. Ill be 33 in September: Molly will be 34. Mrs Galbraith: neighbor. Kitty O’Shea in Grantham street: Miss O’Shea, 3 Grantham Street; not the famous Katherine O’Shea.

703 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 907

G 18:480

G 18:500

Mrs Langtry: (1853–1929) actress from the Island of Jersey who became famous as the lover of the Prince of Wales (later Edward VII). tin thing around her: Langtry’s first husband, Edward Langtry, was thought to be jealous, leading to rumors of a chastity belt. the works of Master Francois […] bumgut fell out: in François Rabelais’s (c.1494–1553) Histories of Gargantua and Pantagruel, Gargamel gives birth out of her ear after local women plug her bottom following a large meal of tripe. Ruby and Fair Tyrants: see 62, 226. after

the ball was over: 1892 ballad by Charles K. Harris, in which a man mistakes his wife’s brother for her lover. the crib at Inchicore: shrine to the Nativity at the Church of Oblate Fathers of Mary Immaculate on the western outskirts of Dublin. H.R.H.: H R H (G, correction). he was in Gibraltar the year I was born: the Prince of Wales visited Gibraltar in 1859 and 1874; Molly was born in 1870. plottering: Hiberno-English, moving ineffectually. mirada: Spanish, “look.” Todd and Burns: fabric and clothing store on Jervis Street.

908 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 704

G 18:520

G 18:540

G 18:560

Lees: draper and silk mercer with branches around Dublin. mathering: probably Hiberno-English, mixing. two bags full: from the nursery rhyme “Baa, baa, black sheep.” with a cabbage leaf that disgusting Cameron … a bang of something there the woman is beauty of course (G, reinsertion of displaced

lines). Cameron highlander: regiment stationed at Gibraltar from 1879–82. where the statue of the fish used to be: statue of a man harpooning a fish in the Alameda Gardens on Gibraltar. I asked him about her and that word met something with hoses (G, inclusion).

705 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 909

delete repeated words: of those rotten places the night coming home with

G 18:580

the Surreys relieved them: the 1st East Surreys relieved the Cameron Highlanders on Gibraltar in 1882. greenhouse: public urinal; see 146. Harcourt street station: terminus of the Dublin, Wicklow, and Wexford Railway, in southeastern Dublin. 7 wonders of the world: the pyramids of Egypt; the lighthouse at Alexandria; the hanging gardens of Babylon; the temple

of Artemis at Ephesus; the statue of Olympian Zeus, the mausoleum at Halicarnassus; and the Colossus of Rhodes. the canal was frozen: the Royal and Grand canals froze over in 1893. meadero: Spanish, “urinal.” Belladonna: poisonous plant used as, among other things, an anesthetic.

910 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 706

G 18:600

G 18:620

Loves old sweeeet sonnnng: see 61. Photo bits: weekly magazine; see 63. levanter: sharp easterly Mediterranean wind. like a big giant compared with their 3 Rock mountain: the Rock of Gibraltar is the same height as Three Rock Mountain in County Dublin but, with a single peak, is more impressive. the B Marche paris: Le Bon Marché, famous department store on the Boulevard Haussmann in Paris. wogger: term of endearment, a very young child (Beale); the derogatory term “wog” was first

noted in 1929 in F. C. Bowen’s Sea Slang. in old Madrid: song about lost love; see 264. Waiting: romantic 1867 song by Ellen H. Flagg and Harrison Millard; see 264. Concone […] exercises: Giuseppe Concone’s (1801–61) vocal exercises were considered effective and attractive (Gifford). La Linea: Spanish town at the border with Gibraltar. that matador Gomez was given the bulls ear: prize for an outstanding performance. Killiney hill: southeast headland of Dublin Bay, near Dalkey.

707 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 911

G 18:640

G 18:660

banderilleros: bullfighters who use a ribboned spear. bell lane: off Ely Place in Dublin. band on the Alameda Esplanade: regimental bands gave concerts twice a week. hardly recognised myself the change he was attractive to a girl in spite of his being a little bald intelligent looking disappointed and gay at the same time he was like Thomas in the shadow of Ashlydyat I had a splendid skin (G, inclusion). the Moonstone: Wilkie Collins’s 1868 detective novel in which an Indian gem mysteriously

disappears from a young English lady’s possession. East Lynne: Mrs Henry (Ellen Price) Wood’s (1814–87) 1861 novel. the shadow of Ashlydyat: Wood’s 1863 novel. Henry Dunbar: Mary Elizabeth Braddon’s (1837–1915) 1864 novel. Lord Lytton Eugene Aram: Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s (1803–73) 1832 novel, The Trial and Life of Eugene Aram. Molly bawn: Margaret Wolfe Hungerford’s (1855–97) 1878 novel of Irish high society, Molly Bawn (Irish, “Beautiful Molly”). the one from Flanders: the heroine of Defoe’s Moll Flanders, who was a prostitute, a wife, a thief, and, finally, a rich penitent.

912 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 708

G 18:680

G 18:700

taittering: English dialect, tilting, shaking. waiting […] his flying feet: from “Waiting”; see 706. damn guns bursting: announcing the closing of Gibraltar’s gates at sunset or the Queen’s birthday. general Ulysses Grant: (1822–85), President of the United States (1869–77), visited Gibraltar in 1878. old Sprague: Horatio Jones Sprague (1823–1901), US consul in Gibraltar from 1860 to c.1902. in mourning for the son: Sprague’s son, John Louis Sprague, was viceconsul with his father; Sprague senior’s wife died in 1877. jellibees: from Arabic jalab, “a long cloak with a hood.” levites

assembly: devout Jews who aid the rabbi or high priest in the temple; one of the twelve tribes of Israel. sound clear: bugle command to clear guns for action. Rorkes drift: British victory in Zululand; see 433. Plevna: see 54. sir Garnet Wolseley: (1833–1913), Dublin-born general who arrived too late to assist General Charles George Gordon (1833–85) in Khartoum, Sudan. Bushmills whisky: Irish whiskey. medical in Holles street the nurse was after: Dr O’Hare and Nurse Callan; see 356. if you shake hands twice with the left: supposed expression of hostility.

709 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 913

G 18:720

G 18:740

those country gougers up in the City Arms: meeting of the Irish Cattle Traders and Stock Owners Association. pots and pans and kettles […] today: rhyme based on the call of potmenders. that wonderworker: remedy for “rectal complaints”; see 674. pisto madrileno: Spanish stew of tomatoes and peppers. possessed her to write from Canada after (G, inclusion). her father: Matthew Dillon, in whose house Bloom and Molly met; see 120. pyannyer: piannyer

(G, correction). Floeys friend more than mine poor Nancy its (G, inclusion). symphathy: symphathy (G, correction). newphew: newphew (G, correction). in Old Madrid […] love is sighing I am dying: see 264. the four courts: highest courts of Ireland, on Inns Quay. the ladies letterwriter: instructional manual. answer to a gentlemans proposal affirmatively: heading in a ladies’ instructional manual. precipit precipitancy: precipat precip itancy (G, correction).

914 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 710

G 18:760

G 18:780 for may read May

Mrs Rubio: the Tweedys’ Spanish housekeeper in Gibraltar. horquilla: Spanish, “hairpin.” the Atlantic fleet: of the Royal Navy. carabineros: Spanish, “police officers.” 4 drunken English sailors: in 1704, a Dutch–English force of 1,800 men overcame 150 Spanish troops on Gibraltar. black blessed virgin: Black Madonna. the sun dancing 3 times on Easter Sunday morning: folk belief intertwining natural and spiritual renewal. vatican to the dying: viaticum, Eucharist administered to a dying person. Majestad:

Spanish, “majesty.” Calle Real: Spanish, “Royal Avenue,” Waterport Street. he tipped me: touched or winked at. language of stamps: code involving the placement of stamps on letters. shall I wear a white rose: “Shall I Wear a White Rose or Shall I Wear a Red?” song by H. Saville Clarke and Emily B. Farmer. Moorish wall: divides a plateau high on the Rock. my sweetheart when a boy: song by Wilford Morgan and Frederick Enoch. there is a flower that bloometh: song from the opera Maritana (1845). the pesetas

and the perragordas: Spanish equivalents to sixpence and penny coins. Cappoquin: small town in County Wexford. Blackwater: black water (G, correction). the infant king of Spain: Alfonso XIII (1886–1941), born after his father died, was king of Spain at birth. the rockgun: signal gun on the highest point of the Rock. OHaras tower: watchtower at the southern highpoint of the Rock. old Barbary apes they sent to Clapham: in 1882, an ape fled to Alameda Gardens to escape ape bullies and was sent to Regent’s Park zoo.

711 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 915

G 18:800

G 18:820

rock scorpion: (garrison slang) non-English native of Gibraltar. Inces farm: on the upper slopes of the Rock, near the Moorish Wall. the firtree cove: Slote suggests Fig Tree Cave, on Gibraltar’s east coast. the galleries and casemates: Windsor and Union galleries, fortifications against approaches by land; the casemate batteries defended the harbor on the west side of the Rock. Saint Michaels cave: largest of Gibraltar’s caves, entered from the south face of

the Rock, with stalactites, stalagmites, and ladders to lower caverns. the way down the monkeys go: local notion that a tunnel connected the Barbary ape communities in Gibraltar and North Africa. the Malta boat: weekly packet boat. embarazada: Spanish, “pregnant.” I liked him like that morning: I liked him like that moaning (G, correction). Molly darling: popular song (1871) by Will S. Hays. block: (low slang) intercourse.

916 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 712

for finrom read from

G 18:840 for tho ught read thought

G 18:860

the Chronicle: Gibraltar Chronicle, a weekly newspaper. Benady Bros: Mordejai and Samuel Benadi, bakers. HMS Calypso: drill ship for the Royal Naval Reserve in North American and West Indian waters. that old Bishop: the bishop overseeing Gibraltar, Right Reverend Gonzalo Canilla, DD. womans higher functions: conservative catchphrase used in the campaign opposing equal rights for women. the new

woman bloomers: designed by the American Elizabeth Smith Miller, named after the American reformer Amelia Jenks Bloomer (1818–94). brig: (slang) steal. Captain Rubios: possibly related to Mrs Rubio, the Tweedys’ housekeeper. I could see over to Morocco: Morocco is visible from Gibraltar, although Tangiers and the Bay of Algiers are not.

713 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 917

G 18:880 for homenade read homemade for publicasn read publicans

G 18:900

at mass […] at the elevation: the raising of the Host at Consecration. peau despagne: originally, a scented leather and, later, a perfume; see 81. Claddagh ring: ring featuring a heart held by two hands, named after an area in Galway city. 16 carat gold: 18 carrot gold (G, correction). very heavy but what could you get in a place like that the sandfrog shower from Africa and that derelict

ship that came up to the harbour Marie the Marie whatyoucallit no he hadnt a moustache that was Gardner yes I can see his face (G, inclusion). once in the dear deaead days beyondre call: from “Love’s Old Sweet Song”; see 61. skitting: Hiberno-English, laughing, giggling. My Ladys Bower: love song with supernatural theme by F. E. Weatherly and Hope Temple.

918 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 714

for sidep iano read side piano

G 18:920

wherever you be let your wind go free: comic epitaph Ulysseana.” sierra nevada: Spanish, “snowy range,” that concludes, “For holding my wind was the death a mountain range in southern Spain. Findon haddy: of me,” according to Victory Pomeranz, “More Trivia cured fish; see 424. lecking: sprinkling or leaking.

715 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 919

G 18:940

G 18:960

the London and Newcastle Williams and Woods: confectioners at 205–6 Great Britain Street, Dublin, and in London and Newcastle. Buckleys: victualler, 48 Upper Dorset Street. the furry glen or the strawberry beds: scenic spots in and near Phoenix Park. little houses down at the bottom of the banks: cottages serving tea in the Strawberry Beds.

ruck: crowd; see 148. Mary Ann: manly girl in the song “McGilligan’s Daughter, Mary Ann.” coalboxes: choruses. Whit Monday: the day after Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit descended on the apostles; Bloom was stung by a bee on that day in 1904. Bray: Bray Head is south of Sandycove tower. Sweets of Sin by a gentleman of fashion: see 226.

920 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 716

G 18:980

G 18:1000

I never brought a bit of salt in: custom to ensure good luck. will you be my man will you carry my can: from a children’s game in County Kerry according to Roland McHugh (Gifford). Lloyd’s Weekly news: Sunday Newspaper published in London

(1842–1931). skerrys academy: George E. Skerry & Co., a shorthand, typewriting, and commercial college, 10 Harcourt Street. getting all 1s at school (G, inclusion). gimcrack: showy knick-knack.

717 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 921

G 18:1020

G 18:1040

teem: to empty or drain a vessel. Tom Devans […] Murray: Thoms records residents with these names on Eccles Street and Leinster Street. Nelson street: intersects with Eccles Street. the Only Way in the Theatre royal: 1899 play based on Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities (1859); the play focuses on Sydney Carton’s self-sacrifice to save the husband of his lover, Lucie Manette. Beerbohm Tree in Trilby: in an 1895 production of Trilby at the Gaiety, the English actor-

manager Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree (1853–1917) played Svengali, who takes control over a young woman. Switzers window: drapers, silk mercers, upholsterers, and tailors, 88–93 Grafton Street. Broadstone: railway terminal of the Midland Great Western and Royal Canal Railway in northwest Dublin. Conny Connolly: sister of Joyce’s classmates, Albrecht and Vincent Connolly, in Belvedere College.

922 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 718

G 18:1060

G 18:1080

Martin Harvey: found fame playing Sydney Carton in The Only Way; see 342. Mrs Joe Gallaher: wife of Fred Gallaher. trottingmatches: see 77. Friery the solicitor: Christopher Friery, solicitor, 52 Rutland Square. not to leave knives crossed: superstition.

the intermediate: competitive exams given by the Intermediate Education Board of Ireland to students in secondary school; Stephen wins a prize in chapter 2 of Portrait.

719 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 923

G 18:1100

for afflicty ou read afflict you

for tim ewe read time we

G 18:1120

that thing has come on me: her menstrual period has begun. Mrs Kendal and her husband: stage names of English actor-manager William Hunter Grimston (1843–1917) and the English actress Margaret (Madge) Robertson Grimston (b.1849). Drimmies: insurance office where Bloom worked; see 353. Spinoza: Spinoza denied the existence of the soul and posited instead the mind as a representation of the body; see 273, 695. wife of Scarli: G. A. Greene’s 1897 version of

an 1897 Italian play, Tristi amori (Sorrows of Love), by Giuseppe Giacosa that presented a controversially sympathetic vision of adultery; married to the grandiose Scarli, Emma has an affair with the otherwise virtuous Fabrizio but remains in the marriage because of her child. the clean sheets I just put on I suppose the clean linen I wore brought it on too (G, inclusion): superstition.

924 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 720

G 18:1140

G 18:1160

other side of the park: the other side of Phoenix Park, three miles away. scout: English dialect, squirt. bubbles on it for a wad of money: superstition that bubbles on coffee, tea, or urine presage good luck. O how the waters come down at Lahore: Molly’s version of the opening lines of Robert Southey’s (1774–1843) poem

“The Cataract of Lodore,” about Lodore waterfall in the Lake District, rather than Lahore in British India. Dr Collins: J. H. Collins, MB, BS, 65 Pembroke Road; Joyce also knew a Dr Joseph Collins in Paris. off Stephens green: an expensive and fashionable district in Dublin. smathered: Hiberno-English, daubed.

721 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 925

G 18:1180

G 18:1200

strap: Hiberno-English, forward girl or woman. a thing of beauty and a joy forever: opening phrase of Keats’s poem Endymion: A Poetic Romance (1818). Rehoboth terrace: Molly’s home with Major Tweedy in southwestern Dublin. sloothering: HibernoEnglish, flattering, coaxing. blather: Hiberno-English, nonsense. strool: Scottish dialect, stream of liquid. the Huguenots […] O beau pays de la Touraine: French, “O lovely land of Touraine,” from Act II of the

French version of Meyerbeer’s opera Les Huguenots (1836). Brighton square: an area in Rathgar, a suburb of Dublin, where Joyce was born. Albion milk and sulphur soap: bath soap for skin complaints. breathing with his hand on his nose: Hindu practice of pranayam. that Indian god […] Kildare street: Buddha; see 77. bigger religion than the jews and Our Lords both put together: only true if members of non-Western religions are counted together.

926 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 722

for form Lord Napier read from Lord Napier

G 18:1220

G 18:1240

old Cohen: Gibraltar Directory lists David A. Cohen, seller of boots and shoes, at 22 Engineer Lane. Lord Napier: Field Marshal Robert Cornelis Napier (1810–90), commander in chief in India (1869–75)

and governor of Gibraltar (1876–83). frogs march: (slang) to forcibly carry someone by the arms. his old lottery tickets: see 149. French letter: (slang) condom. Aristocrats Masterpiece: Aristotle’s Masterpiece; see 226.

723 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 927

G 18:1260

G 18:1280

slept on the floor […] naked the way the jews used: version of the Jewish mourning tradition that requires mourners to avoid adornment and to sit on the earth or floor. wethen: English Dialect, why then. the College races: annual athletic meeting hosted by Trinity

College in Trinity College Park. Hornblower: Trinity gate-porter; see 83. Bill Bailey wont you please come home: popular 1902 American ragtime song by Hughie Cannon.

928 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 724

G 18:1300

for laud read land G 18:1320

to see him trotting off in his trowlers and Simon Dedalus too (G, inclusion). the old love is the new: either the song “Don’t Give Up the Old Love for the New,” (1896) by James Thornton, or “The Old Love and the New,” by Alfred Maltby and Frank Musgrave. Maritana: 1845 opera; see 165. Phoebe dearest: “Phoebe Dearest, Tell O Tell Me,” a song by Claxon Bellamy and J. L. Hatton. goodbye sweetheart: from the song “Goodbye, Sweetheart, Goodbye,” by J. L. Hatton. O Maritana wildwood flower: in Act III

of Maritana, Don Caesar mistakenly suspects Maritana of being unfaithful. Kingsbridge station: now Sean Heuston station, on the western side of Dublin. neither one thing nor the other the first cry was enough for me I heard the deathwatch too ticking in the wall of course he insisted (G, inclusion). lord Fauntleroy suit: velvet suit with knickerbockers worn by the boy in Frances Hodgson Burnett’s (1849–1924) novel (and play) Little Lord Fauntleroy (1886).

725 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 929

G 18:1340

Eppss cocoa: see 629. patent professor: potent professor (G, correction). John Jameson: an Irish Whiskey. where softly sighs of love the light guitar: song “In Old Madrid”; it continues “two glancing eyes a lattice hid / two eyes as darkly bright as loves own star / as loves young star.” Tarifa: Moorish seaport town in

Andalusia, Spain, twenty-eight miles west-southwest of Gibraltar. Margate strand: on the North Front isthmus that separates Gibraltar from the Spanish mainland; named after the English seaside resort. that lovely little statue: identified by Ralph W. Rader as a Narcissus from Pompeii.

930 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 726

G 18:1360

for nnder read under

G 18:1380

if the wishcard comes out: the nine of hearts; Steven Bond and Ronan Crowley identified P. R. S. Foli, Fortune-Telling by Cards (1904) as Joyce’s source for Molly’s readings. those old hypocrites in the time of Julius Caesar: Brutus and the other conspirators killed Caesar to protect the Republic of Rome. an old Lion would: in the Odyssey, Penelope calls Odysseus “my lord, my lion heart.” my uncle John has a thing […] the handle in a sweepingbrush: “My Man John Had a Thing That Was Long,” by John Eccles

(c.1688–1735), a bawdy song popular in Victorian glee clubs. Marrowbone lane: leads from Dolphin’s Barn in southeastern Dublin toward the city center. those houses round behind Irish street: Irish Town was one of the main business streets in Gibraltar. coronado: Spanish, “tonsured as a Catholic monk”; however, cornudo means “horned, cuckolded.” what else were we given all those desires for: crux considered by Father Conmee; see 214.

727 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 931

G 18:1400

G 18:1420

I kiss the feet of you senorita: translation of a Spanish expression of extreme courtesy. didnt he kiss our halldoor: Bloom’s version of the Jewish custom of touching or kissing the mezuzah. Rathfarnham: parish and former village, now south Dublin suburb. Bloomfield laundry: model laundry run by Bloomfield Steam Laundry Company in Rathfarnham. that K. C.: that K C (G, correction). lives up somewhere this

way: Thom’s lists three King’s Counsels in the vicinity. Hardwicke lane: east of Bloom’s house in Eccles Street. the winds that waft my sighs to thee: 1856 lovesong, lyrics by H. W. Challis and words by William V. Wallace. Don Poldo de la Flora: rough Spanish translation of “Leopold Bloom.” slooching: (slang) idling about.

932 · The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses

“Penelope” · 728

G 18:1440

G 18:1460

nightwalkers: (slang) nocturnal criminals. arrah: Hiberno-English, well, indeed. Delapaz Delagracia: surnames listed in The Gibraltar Directory. father Vial plana: father Vilaplana (G, correction); Reverend J. Vilaplana, Order of St Benedict, was not stationed in Gibraltar until 1912. Calle las Siete Revueltas: Spanish, “the Street of the Seven Turnings.” Mrs

Opisso in Governor street: Mrs Catherine Opisso, milliner and dressmaker, Governor’s Street, Gibraltar. Paradise ramp […] Bedlam ramp […] Rodgers ramp […] Crutchetts ramp […] the devils gap steps: streets and stairway streets ascending the Rock. como esta usted […] y usted: Spanish, “How are you? Very well, thank you, and you?”

729 · “Penelope”

The Cambridge Centenary Ulysses · 933

G 18:1480

G 18:1500

Valera: Juan Valera Y Alcala Galiano (1824–1905), Spanish novelist, poet, scholar, politician, and diplomat, a key figure in the late nineteenth-century literary renaissance in Spain; his 1874 novel Pepita Jiménez was translated into English in 1886 and adapted into an opera in 1896. down the two ways: the Spanish convention of placing question marks both after and before a question. so long as I didnt do it on the knife for bad luck: related to the superstition about stirring with a knife. Abrines: R. and J. Abrines, food

and drink merchant in Gibraltar. the criada: Spanish, “the maid.” dos huevos estrellados senor: Spanish, “two fried eggs, sir.” gesabo: tall building or object; see 357. Walpoles: Walpole Brothers, linen drapers and damask manufacturers, Suffolk Street, Dublin. over to the markets: the Dublin Corporation Fruit, Vegetable, and Fish Market; see 282. mi fa pieta Masetto […] presto non son piu forte: Italian, “I’m sorry for Masetto! [...] Quick, my strength is failing!”; Zerlina sings these lines to Don Giovanni in Don Giovanni, i.3.

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G 18:1540

handrunning: consecutively. adulteress as the thing in the gallery said: an audience member’s response to Emma’s infidelity in The Wife of Scarli. this vale of tears: stock phrase taken from Psalm 83:67; it features in James Montgomery’s (1771– 1854) Hymn 214, “The Issues of Life and Death,” “Beyond this vale of tears / There is a life above, / Unmeasured by the flight of years; / And all that life is love.” a mixture of plum and apple: play on the association of plums with ideal situations and

apples with discord, according to Gifford. well soon have the nuns ringing the angelus: the nuns at the Dominican Convent of Our Lady of Sion, west of the Blooms’ house on Eccles Street, will soon commence the morning celebration of the Angel Gabriel’s announcement to the Virgin Mary of Christ’s incarnation. an odd priest or two for his night office: play on Divine Office, the daily service of the Roman breviary. Lambes: Miss Alicia Lambe, fruiterer and florist, Sackville Street, Dublin.

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G 18:1560

G 18:1580

Findlaters: Alexander Findlater & Co., food and drink merchant, Sackville Street. Fridays an unlucky day: Christian superstition, following the Crucifixion; see 620. Liptons: Lipton’s Ltd, food and drink merchants, 59–61 Dame Street. go and wash the cobblestones off: from (slang) cobblers, nonsense, rubbish. leapyear like now yes 16 years ago: 1888 and 1904 were leap years; February 29 was known as Bachelor’s Day, or Ladies’ Privilege, in Ireland, on which women were allowed to propose to men. all birds fly: an Irish game,

sometimes played at wakes, in which a leader prompts people to flap their hands (“Crows fly”) or remain still (“Cows fly”); see Seán Ó Súilleabháin, Irish Wake Amusements. I say stoop: another game of command and response (Gifford). washing up dishes: probably another game. the governors house: the governor of Gibraltar’s palace in town on the west side of the Rock; the governor also had a cottage on the east seaside. with the thing round his white helmet: identifying him as military police.

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auctions in the morning: daily auction in Commercial Square in Gibraltar. Duke street: in the center of Dublin. Larby Sharons: egg and poultry dealer in Gibraltar. the poor donkeys slipping half asleep: use of donkeys on Gibraltar’s steep streets was discontinued in 1889. the big wheels of the carts of the bulls: two-wheeled carts with cages used to transport fighting bulls. the old castle: the Moorish Castle, against the northwest corner of the Rock of Gibraltar, formerly thought to be built by Abu-Abul-Hajez in 725 ce,

but probably begun in 1068. Ronda: mountain town in southern Spain, forty miles northeast of Gibraltar; the old capital of the Moors. posadas: Spanish, “inns or town houses.” glancing eyes a lattice hid: from “Old Madrid.” to kiss the iron: possibly the iron grilles of windows to the street. serene: call of the nightwatchmen, from Spanish sereno, “serene.” the sea the sea: echoes Buck Mulligan’s “Thalatta! Thalatta!”; see 5. Trieste-Zurich-Paris, 1914–1921: the locations and time period of Joyce’s composition of Ulysses.

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THE ERRATA Ronan Crowley and Catherine Flynn

The first edition Ulysses begins with an a­ pology: “The publisher asks the reader’s indulgence for typographical errors unavoidable in the exceptional circumstances” (xi). Initialed “S.B.” for Sylvia Beach, the disclaimer was, in fact, the work of Joyce. The printer of Ulysses, Maurice Darantiere of Dijon, was already odd-jobbing for Beach when, in April 1921, she founded Shakespeare and Company to publish the novel in a limited deluxe edition. Although Darantiere had produced little more than a consignment of exlibris slips for the lending library, he was also the printer of the Cahiers des Amis des Livres series overseen by Adrienne Monnier, Beach’s lover. A natural choice in terms of social networks, Imprimerie Darantiere was less of a fit for an English-language text the length and complexity of Ulysses. Only one of the firm’s typesetters knew English (a mixed blessing) and, within a few weeks of beginning work, the print shop had exhausted its supply of the characters w, h, and y – letters used less frequently in French – and also the letter e. Beyond in-house complications, Ulysses presented unique challenges to the Dijon pressmen. Its vast wordstock, drawn from a dozen European languages, modern and ancient, is peppered with archaisms, neologisms, dialect, and cant, and Joyce’s play with literary and textual form required a number of typographic layouts from offset poetry and newspaper crossheads to Q & A and play-script. More daunting than this, Joyce had not even finalized the last two episodes, “Ithaca” and “Penelope,” when he began submitting copy to the printers. And, finally, the routine task of proofreading took on new significance as he revised the

book on galleys and page proofs, threading minor motifs and cross-references across the episodes, adding to the Homeric correspondences, and enriching Bloom’s interior monologue. Estimates vary, but Joyce wrote between one fifth and one third of Ulysses on the proofs, his spidery handwriting crammed into margins and white space. To accommodate the flood of additions, the printers were obliged to reset individual lines and entire pages of handset type over and over again – time-consuming and error-prone labor. Joyce announced the completion of “Ithaca,” the last episode to be written, in late October 1921 but continued writing the book in proof until January 31, just two days shy of his self-appointed publication date: February 2, 1922, his fortieth birthday. In the years that followed, Joyce made several attempts to correct the text of Ulysses before “Work in Progress”/Finnegans Wake began to consume his full attention. In the fall of 1922, he, Harriet Shaw Weaver, and John Rodker compiled a seven-page list of errata (Joyce preferred the term “misprints” [L I 187]) for the second printing of the novel, which was published in Paris for Weaver’s Egoist Press in October 1922. A second fourpage list of “Additional Corrections” followed for the fourth printing, issued in January 1924. These early patch-ups went some way to redressing the “exceptional circumstances” that had ushered the first edition into print: on the opening pages alone, an overzealous typist had split Joyce’s nonstandard closed compound word “razorblade” (4; 1:14) into its constituent elements; a piece of broken type

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made “Genera” of “General” (6; 1:128); and, in correcting a grammatical error, the typesetters introduced a typo – “five week’s board” became “five weeks’ borard” (31; 2:258–59). In 1925, Darantiere proposed a second edition of Ulysses: resetting the text completely would allow the printers to incorporate into the body text the myriad corrections that Joyce and his deputies had identified. By this time, Joyce was engrossed in “Work in Progress,” and Beach hired a Daily Mail proofreader to go through the proofs. The author was less than satisfied with the results. As Beach relates, “He eagerly scrutinized the first pages with the help of his two pairs of glasses plus a magnifying glass – and I heard an exclamation. Three errors already!”1 Every act of correction was inevitably also one of “incorrection,” whereby new errors were introduced accidentally or by design in well-intentioned if mistaken emendations to Joyce’s writing. There were other lifetime efforts to correct the text of the novel by means of outsourced labor. Most prominent among these was the 1932 Odyssey Press Ulysses, marketed as “the definitive standard edition” on the strength of an ostensible revision by Stuart Gilbert, one of Joyce’s cultural intermediaries in the early 1930s and “the official Joycean” in Sam Slote’s phrase.2 The definitive edition claim was put to the test a year later when, after John M. Woolsey’s ruling on December 6, 1933 that the novel was not pornographic, a copy of the Odyssey Press edition was used to check the proofs of the first authorized American edition of Ulysses: the 1934 Random House Ulysses. For all this diligence, Random House’s compositors set the text from the mutilated Samuel Roth piracy and only had about two weeks to proofread the edition before publication in 1  Sylvia Beach, Shakespeare and Company (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1959), 97–98. 2.  Sam Slote, “Ulysses,” in the Plural: The Variable Editions of Joyce’s Novel (Dublin: National Library of Ireland, 2004), 19. As Alistair McCleery has argued, there is nothing to indicate Gilbert’s involvement in the edition beyond the copywriter’s claim. See McCleery, “The Reputation of the 1932 Odyssey Press Edition of Ulysses,” Papers of the Bibliographical Society of America 100:1 (March 2006), 89–103, at 103.

January 1934.3 Their mistake is understandable. Because Ulysses did not qualify for US copyright protection, Roth had been able to pirate the work lawfully in America, issuing it under false imprint in 1929: copies of his edition reproduce the colophon from the 1927 printing of the second Shakespeare and Company edition. Warts and all, the 1934 Ulysses went through multiple printings and, by 1940, had sold some fifty thousand copies.4 Across the pond, the Bodley Head issued Ulysses as a 1936 limited edition and a 1937 trade edition. The net result of this rampant proliferation was that, at the time of Joyce’s death, Ulysses was circulating in a multitude of editions and imprints, of varying authority and each in a different state of textual corruption. Both Random House and the Bodley Head reset their texts in the 1960s and Penguin entered the fray with a 1968 paperback, but a more radical approach to the text in the late 1970s and early 1980s brought about the preparation of the first scholarly edition. Ulysses: A Critical and Synoptic Edition (1984; revised 1986) was among the earliest editorial projects to enlist the computer in the storage and collation processes and, as such, represents a pioneering effort in digital scholarly editing. Its aim was nothing less than “to rebuild Ulysses as Joyce wrote it.”5 By “attack[ing] the corruption at the roots,” in the words of Hans Walter Gabler, the critical edition would bypass both the transmissional departures that typists and compositors had introduced between 1917 and 1922 and the overlay of further errors and misprints introduced by two generations of well-intentioned editors and printers.6 Central to this enterprise were the hundreds upon hundreds of pages of 3.  McCleery, William S. Brockman, and Ian Gunn, “Fresh Evidence and Further Complications: Correcting the Text of the Random House 1934 Edition of Ulysses,” Joyce Studies Annual (2008), 37–77, at 37. 4.  McCleery, “The 1969 Edition of Ulysses: The Making of a Penguin Classic,” James Joyce Quarterly 46:1 (Fall 2008), 55–73, at 57. 5.  Hans Walter Gabler, “Foreword” [1986], Joyce, Ulysses, ed. Gabler with Wolfhard Steppe and Claus Melchior (New York: Vintage Books, 1993), xv–xviii, at xvii. 6.  Gabler, “Foreword,” xvii.

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fair copy, typescript, and marked proof that survive for Ulysses, and which contain words, phrases, and whole sentences in Joyce’s hand that do not appear or else appear distorted in editions of the novel before Gabler’s. Ulysses is more than just its text – literary works should be regarded, in D. F. McKenzie’s phrase, “not simply as verbal constructs but as social products.”7 The material form of the book, its heft and hold, impacts meaning. This volume reproduces the historic 1922 Shakespeare and Company Ulysses with a photofacsimile of a first edition copy held at the Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley. It features number 876 of the original limited edition, one of the 750 series printed on linen paper and numbered 251 to 1,000.8 One paradoxical advantage of reproducing the first edition is that it frees the text of errors introduced in subsequent editions. In the 1922 “Nestor,” for example, Sargent “copied out the data” of a mathematical equation in “long shaky strokes” (28; 2:163). In copying these particular data for the 1926 second edition, however, the printers improved the schoolboy’s penmanship, perhaps at the behest of the Daily Mail proofreader, and rendered the phrase as “long shady strokes” – in which form it remained through all successive editions until the Gabler edition.  Alongside the page-by-page text of the 1922 edition, the Centenary Ulysses reproduces the corrections that Joyce and his circle authorized in the immediate aftermath of publication, cued to the appropriate lines in the text and printed in the outside margin. It is unclear how many proofreading passes Joyce made through the first edition Ulysses. From September to November 1922, he sent Weaver lists of corrections for first, “Ithaca,” and then the twelve

episodes through “Cyclops” which, once supplemented with corrections for the second half of the novel, formed the basis for the errata list included in the second printing. An additional six corrections for “Cyclops” went unsent as Joyce, losing interest in proofreading previous work, had switched to taking notes for his next project; these six errant corrections are reproduced between pages 282 and 288 of the present edition. In addition to the 1922 “Errata” and the 1924 “Additional Corrections,” we include Joyce’s corrections to those corrections – handwritten additions made to copies of the two errata tip-ins – as well as corrections that, although they appear on Joyce’s original lists, were omitted from the printed errata.9 We have silently omitted corrections that tackle errors introduced after the first edition or which were subsequently withdrawn (Joyce vetoed the change of “mong” to “among” on page 45, for example) as well as some impossible corrections. In one or two cases, we have corrected faulty locators or interpreted unclear instructions.10 Joyce found more than twice as many misprints in “Ithaca” as in the next highest episode, “Circe,” and at a rate of almost one per page.11 He told Weaver in December 1921 that “Ithaca” should be read by “some person who is a physicist, mathematician, and astronomer and a number of other things” (L I 178); being none of these himself, he had to settle for proofreading the episode closely. Perhaps surprisingly, the Dijon typesetters struggled less with Joyce’s scientistic terminology and pseudolatinate coinages than with the everyday English in which the Ithacan

9.  This material is now at the British Library (BL 57,356). 7.  D. F. McKenzie, “The Sociology of a Text: Oral Culture, Literacy, and Print in Early New Zealand,” in Bibliography and the Sociology of Texts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 77–128, at 127. 8.­  Copies 1–100 were printed on Dutch handmade paper and signed by Joyce, and the final series, copies 101–250, were printed on vergé d’Arches paper in a larger format. During reimposition, the printers made a single correction, reverting “borard” to “board” (31, 2.259), producing in the process a second state of the first edition.

10.  The “Additional Corrections,” for example, specify the correction “for great read grey” on page 5, line 12. This was an attempt to salvage an impossible direction to page 5, line 9 in the typed version of the errata. The correction was meant for page 5, line 19, however, and Mulligan’s “great searching eyes.” 11.  Across the book as a whole, this decreases to about one error for every two and a half pages. The “Ithaca” rate of error detection is bested slightly in “Proteus”; Joyce and his associates flagged seventeen errata over the episode’s fourteen pages.

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jawbreakers are set: “mechanical” became “mechianacal,” for example; “brown” became “bronw” (642, 661; 17:799, 1385). One must also acknowledge the pressure of time. It was mid-­ December before Imprimerie Darantiere began setting type for “Ithaca” and, over the course of the seven-week sprint to publication day, the episode expanded to seventy-one pages, becoming the second longest in the book. For all that, the printers only had time to run two galley proofs and a single page proof by Joyce. The cleanest episodes, by contrast – or those which Joyce passed over most lightly – were “Nausicaa” and “Oxen of the Sun,” every page of which he had seen in proof between three and five times. While the vast majority of Joyce’s corrections consist of the somewhat “mechianacal” recovery of eye-skipped words and phrases or the straightening out of text garbled in the course of transmission, some of the errata can, as Slote has noted, be more properly considered “post-publication revisions.”12 He gives the example of Virag in “Circe,” who taunts Bloom by reminding him of his fatuous youthful ambitions: “You intended to devote […] the summer months of 1882 to square the circle and win that million” (484; 15:2399–401). The “Additional Corrections” supplied with the fourth Shakespeare and Company printing tweaked this year to 1886, making Bloom four years older at the time and avoiding an instance of Joyce’s birth year appearing in the text. The emendation is consistent with Joyce’s pattern of circumventing the year “1882” and even the number “eighty-two” in Ulysses (see 130, 449; 7:632, 15:1287), but it has no prepublication authority. The manuscripts, typescript, and proofs all agree on 1882. If Joyce occasionally revised for consistency while he was proofreading, what he apparently did not do was consult the Ulysses prepublication corpus for readings marooned in the manuscripts and documents of transmission. In “Telemachus,” for example, when Mulligan bemoans the non-arrival of the 12.  Slote, “Correcting Joyce: Trial and Error in the Composition of Ulysses,” in James Joyce and Genetic Criticism: Genesic Fields, ed. Genevieve Sartor (Leiden: Brill, 2018), 55–68, at 66.

Sandycove milkwoman, his towermate replies: “We can drink it black, Stephen said. There’s a lemon in the locker” (12; 1:340–41). On the second setting of the episode in page proof, Joyce added the adverb “thirstily” to “Stephen said” (  JJA 224), indicating that the answer was motivated less by agreeableness than irritability resulting from bodily privation – an early instance of the angry main character in literature. The narratorial heavy-handedness is deliberate but, in fact, the change was never implemented by the Dijon typesetters. (It may be that Beach did not return the proof.) In the aftermath of publication, Joyce did not consult the Ulysses paper trail for evidence of such omissions. Indeed, by 1922, he no longer had access to many of the manuscripts on which he had drafted the novel as they had been ­either discarded in Zurich, left behind in Trieste when he moved to Paris in 1920, or (in the case of the fair copy) sold to John Quinn in New York. The first edition of Ulysses to treat the prepublication corpus comprehensively and systematically was the Critical and Synoptic Edition. In the field of Joyce studies, Gabler’s reading text is the standard edition of Ulysses and most of the scholarship on the novel from the last thirty years cites his edition. To aid readers who wish to consult the voluminous secondary literature on the novel, we therefore cue the Centenary Ulysses to the line numbering of the Gabler edition, indicating each twentieth line of the latter in the outer margins of the photofacsimile (counted on the first word of the Gabler line). The footnotes also draw selectively on variant readings and dropped words and phrases that the Gabler edition recovers from manuscripts and the documents of transmission.13 As Gabler ­reviews and accepts many earlier instances of editorial intervention, this volume also draws on his edition as a compendium of previous attempts to correct the text. Gabler’s interventions have a related though distinct authority from the marginal errata. 13.  This edition does not seek to reproduce all of Gabler’s changes nor the debates that have surrounded them since 1984. Interested readers can refer to Ulysses: A Critical and Synoptic Edition and the works in the bibliography that follows.

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Both ultimately derive from Joyce, but the errata represent a post-publication authorial effort to right textual wrongs in the historical first edition and, as such, represent a key moment in the early reception of Ulysses. At the same time, the errata lists are as imperfect and partial as the work they emend. The Gabler edition, by contrast, begins from the presumption of lossless transmission.14 The Munich team constructed a version of Ulysses that traveled from authorial hand to printed page “without r­ esistance in the m ­ aterial,” in Jerome 14.  There is some slight overlap between the two as the Gabler edition also incorporates the errata lists (for example, giving 1886 as the year Bloom was to square the circle [15.2400]).

McGann’s oft-cited borrowing from William Morris – that is, without the lossy friction of mediating typists and typesetters or even Joyce himself as imperfect copyist of his own work.15 Readings introduced from the Gabler edition do not supersede the authority of the 1922 Shakespeare and Company Ulysses but are offered here in a spirit of textual pluralism to open up discussion and enhance the reader’s experience of the work. 15.  William Morris quoted in, for example, Jerome McGann, Black Riders: The Visible Language of Modernism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), 114. See also Bethany Nowviskie, “Resistance in the Materials,” in Debates in the Digital Humanities 2016, ed. Matthew K. Gold and Lauren F. Klein (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2016), 176–83, at 178.

FURTHER READING There is a massive library of works on Joyce that is impossible to cover here. See the overviews of criticism in Michael Patrick Gillespie and Paula F. Gillespie, Recent Criticism of James Joyce’s “Ulysses”: An Analytical Review (Rochester, NY: Camden House, 2000), Derek Attridge, ed., The Cambridge Companion to James Joyce, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), and Sean Latham, The Cambridge Companion to “Ulysses” (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), as well as the Harry Ransom James Joyce Checklist https://norman .hrc.utexas.edu/JamesJoyceChecklist/ Journals The James Joyce Quarterly, The Joyce Studies Annual, The James Joyce Broadsheet, The James Joyce Literary Supplement, Genetic Joyce Studies, The Dublin James Joyce Journal, European Joyce Studies.

Biographies Beja, Morris. James Joyce: A Literary Life. Columbia: Ohio State University Press, 1992.  Budgen, Frank. James Joyce and the Making of “Ulysses” [1934]. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989. Colum, Mary, and Padraic Colum. Our Friend James Joyce. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1958. Ellmann, Richard. James Joyce [1959]. New York: Oxford University Press, 1982. Joyce, Stanislaus. My Brother’s Keeper: James Joyce’s Early Years, ed. Richard Ellmann. New York: Viking, 1958. Maddox, Brenda. Nora: A Biography of Nora Joyce. London: Hamish Hamilton; Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1988.

McCourt, John. The Years of Bloom: James Joyce in Trieste. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2000. Potts, Willard, ed. Portraits of the Artist in Exile: Recollections of James Joyce by Europeans. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1979. Power, Arthur. Conversations with James Joyce. New York: Barnes and Noble, 1974. Shloss, Carol. Lucia Joyce: To Dance in the Wake. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2003.

Reference Works Bowen, Zack. Musical Allusions in the Works of James Joyce: Early Poetry through “Ulysses.” Albany: State University of New York Press, 1975. Fargnoli, Nicholas A., and Michael P. Gillespie, eds. James Joyce A–Z: The Essential Reference to His Life and Writings. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995. Gifford, Don, with Robert J. Seidman. “Ulysses” Annotated: Notes for James Joyce’s “Ulysses.” Revised and expanded edition. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988. Gunn, Ian, Clive Hart, with Harald Beck. James Joyce’s Dublin: A Topographical Guide to the Dublin of “Ulysses”. New York: Thames & Hudson, 2004. Igoe, Vivien. The Real People of Joyce’s “Ulysses”: A Biographical Guide. Dublin: University College Dublin Press, 2016. James Joyce Online Notes, www.jjon.org/ Killeen, Terence. “Ulysses” Unbound: A Reader’s Guide to James Joyce’s “Ulysses.” Bray: Wordwell, 2004. Slote, Sam, Marc A. Mamigonian, and John Turner. Annotations to James Joyce’s “Ulysses.” Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2022. Thornton, Weldon. Allusions in “Ulysses”: An Annotated List. Chapel Hill: North Carolina Press, 1968.

944 · Further Reading

Tindall, William York. The Joyce Country. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1960.

Composition and Editorial Studies Barsanti, Michael. “Ulysses” in Hand: The Rosenbach Manuscript. Philadelphia: Rosenbach Museum and Library, 2000. Brannon, Julie Sloan. Who Reads “Ulysses”? The Rhetoric of the Joyce Wars and the Common Reader. New York: Routledge, 2003. Bulson, Eric. “Ulysses” by Numbers. New York: Columbia University Press, 2020. Crispi, Luca. Joyce’s Creative Process and the Construction of Characters in “Ulysses”: Becoming the Blooms. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015. Gabler, Hans Walter. The Rocky Road to “Ulysses.” Joyce Studies 2004, 15. Dublin: National Library of Ireland, 2005.  Groden, Michael. “Ulysses” in Progress [1977]. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014. Groden, Michael, ed. The James Joyce Archives. Vols. xii–xxvii. New York: Garland Publishing, 1978. Hutton, Clare. Serial Encounters: “Ulysses” and “The Little Review.” Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019. Joyce, James. The Little Review “Ulysses,” ed. Mark Gaipa, Sean Latham, and Robert Scholes. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015. Owen, Rodney Wilson. James Joyce and the Beginnings of “Ulysses.” Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1983. Sandulescu, C. George, and Clive Hart, eds. Assessing the 1984 “Ulysses.” Gerrards Cross: Smythe, 1986. Scholes, Robert, and Richard M. Kain. The Workshop of Daedalus: James Joyce and the Raw Materials for “A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.” Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1965.  Slote, Sam. “Ulysses” in the Plural: The Variable Editions of Joyce’s Novel. Joyce Studies 2004, 5. Dublin: National Library of Ireland, 2004. (This volume features an “Appendix of Editions” that lists the various printings and reprintings and the copy-texts used in each case.)

Eliot, T. S. “Ulysses, Order and Myth,” Dial 7 (November 1923), 480–83; repr. in Frank Kermode, ed., Selected Prose of T. S. Eliot. London: Faber & Faber, 1975, 175–78. Ellmann, Richard. Ulysses on the Liffey. New York: Oxford University Press, 1972. Gilbert, Stuart. James Joyce’s “Ulysses”: A Study. New York: Vintage, 1952. Goldberg, S. L. The Classical Temper: A Study of James Joyce’s “Ulysses.” Chatto & Windus, 1961.  Goldman, Arnold. The Joyce Paradox: Form and Freedom in his Fiction. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1966.  Hart, Clive, and David Hayman, eds. James Joyce’s “Ulysses”: Critical Essays. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974.  Hayman, David. “Ulysses”: The Mechanics of Meaning. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1970. Kain, Richard. Fabulous Voyager: James Joyce’s “Ulysses.” Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1947. Kenner, Hugh. Dublin’s Joyce. Boston: Beacon, 1982.  Larbaud, Valery. “James Joyce,” Nouvelle Revue Française, 18 (April 1922), 385–407. “The Ulysses of James Joyce,” Criterion, 1 (1922), 94–103. Levin, Harry. James Joyce: A Critical Introduction. New York: New Directions, 1941. Litz, A. Walton. The Art of James Joyce: Method and Design in “Ulysses” and “Finnegans Wake.” New York: Oxford University Press, 1961.  Pound, Ezra. “James Joyce et Pécuchet” and “Paris Letter: Ulysses,” in Ezra Pound, James Joyce, and Forrest Read. Pound/Joyce: The Letters of Ezra Pound to James Joyce: With Pound’s Essays on Joyce. London: Faber, 1967. Sultan, Stanley. The Argument of “Ulysses.” Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1964. Tindall, William York. James Joyce: His Way of Interpreting the Modern World. New York: Scribner, 1950.

Language- and Reader-Centered Approaches

Early Reception and Symbolic Interpretations

Attridge, Derek. Joyce Effects: On Language, Theory, and History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000.

Adams, Robert Martin. Surface and Symbol: The Consistency of James Joyce’s “Ulysses.” New York: Oxford University Press, 1962.

Attridge, Derek, and Daniel Ferrer, eds. Post-Structuralist Joyce: Essays from the French. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984.

Further Reading · 945

Baron, Scarlett. “Strandentwining Cable”: Joyce, Flaubert, and Intertextuality. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. Benstock, Bernard. Narrative Con/Texts in Ulysses. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1991. Conley, Tim. Joyces Mistakes: Problems of Intention, Irony, and Interpretation. Toronto and Buffalo: University of Toronto Press, 2003.  French, Marilyn. The Book as World: James Joyce’s “Ulysses.” Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1976. Gottfried, Roy K. The Art of Joyce’s Syntax in “Ulysses.” Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press, 1980. Kenner, Hugh. Joyce’s Voices. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978. Ulysses. London: Allen and Unwin, 1980. Lawrence, Karen. The Odyssey of Style in “Ulysses.” Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981. Lernout, Geert. The French Joyce. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1990. MacCabe, Colin. James Joyce and the Revolution of the Word. London: Macmillan, 1979. Maddox, James H. Joyce’s “Ulysses” and the Assault Upon Character. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1978. Mahaffey, Vicki, ed. Collaborative Dubliners: Joyce in Dialogue. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2012. Mitchell, Andrew J., Sam Slote, and Jacques Derrida. Derrida and Joyce: Texts and Contexts. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2013.

Sherry, Vincent B. James Joyce’s Ulysses. 2nd ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Wales, Katie. The Language of James Joyce. New York: St Martin’s Press, 1992.

Sexuality, Feminism, and Gender Studies Boheemen-Saaf, Christine van, and Colleen Lamos, eds. Masculinities in Joyce: Postcolonial Constructions. Amsterdam and Atlanta: Rodopi, 2001. Brown, Richard. James Joyce and Sexuality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985. Devlin, Kimberley J., and Marilyn Reizbaum, eds. “Ulysses” En-Gendered Perspectives: Eighteen New Essays on the Episodes. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1999. Froula, Christine. Modernism’s Body: Sex, Culture, and Joyce. New York: Columbia University Press, 1996.  Henke, Suzette. “Joyce’s New Womanly Man: Sexual Signatures of Androgynous Transformation in Ulysses,” in Joycean Occasions: Essays from the Milwaukee James Joyce Conference, ed. Janet E. Dunleavy, Melvin J. Friedman, and Michael Patrick Gillespie. Newark: University of Delaware Press, 1991, 46–58. Henke, Suzette, and Elaine Unkeless. Women in Joyce. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1982. Jones, Ellen Carol. Joyce: Feminism/Post/Colonialism. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1998. Mahaffey, Vicki. Reauthorizing Joyce. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988.

Nash, John. James Joyce and the Act of Reception: Reading, Ireland, Modernism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006.

Mullin, Katherine. James Joyce, Sexuality and Social Purity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003.

Norris, Margot. Virgin and Veteran Readings of “Ulysses”. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011.

Norris, Margot. Joyce’s Web: The Social Unraveling of Modernism. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1992.

O’Neill, Christine. Too Fine A Point: A Stylistic Analysis of the Eumaeus Episode in James Joyce’s “Ulysses.” Trier: Wissenschaftlicher Verlag Trier, 1996. Rabaté, Jean-Michel. James Joyce, Authorized Reader [1984]; rev. and trans. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1991.

Restuccia, Frances L. Joyce and the Law of the Father. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989.  Scott, Bonnie Kime. Joyce and Feminism. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1984.

Riquelme, John Paul. Teller and Tale in Joyce’s Fiction: Oscillating Perspectives. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1983.

History, Politics, Nationalism and Postcolonialism

Senn, Fritz. Inductive Scrutinies: Focus on Joyce, ed. Christine O’Neill. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995.

Attridge, Derek, and Marjorie Howes, eds. Semicolonial Joyce. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. 

Joyce’s Dislocutions: Essays on Reading as Translation, ed. John Paul Riquelme. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1984.

Booker, M. Keith. “Ulysses,” Capitalism, and Colonialism: Reading Joyce After the Cold War. Westport: Greenwood Press, 2000.

946 · Further Reading

Cheng, Vincent J. Amnesia and the Nation: History, Forgetting, and James Joyce. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018. Joyce, Race, and Empire. Cambridge University Press, 1995. Duffy, Enda. The Subaltern Ulysses. University of Minnesota Press, 1994. Fairhall, James. James Joyce and the Question of History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993. Gibbons, Luke. Joyce’s Ghosts: Ireland, Modernism, and Memory. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015. Gibson, Andrew. Joyce’s Revenge: History, Politics, and Aesthetics in “Ulysses.” Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Gibson, Andrew, and Len Platt, eds. Joyce, Ireland, Britain. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2007. Gillespie, Michael Patrick, ed. James Joyce and the Fabrication of an Irish Identity. Amsterdam and Atlanta: Rodopi, 2001. Manganiello, Dominic. Joyce’s Politics. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1980. McGee, Patrick. Joyce Beyond Marx. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2001.

Cheng, Vincent J., Kimberly Devlin, and Margot Norris, eds. Joycean Cultures/Culturing Joyce. Newark: University of Delaware Press/Associated University Presses, 1998. Frawley, Oona, and Katherine O’Callaghan, eds. Memory Ireland: Volume 4: James Joyce and Cultural Memory. New York: Syracuse University Press, 2014. Herr, Cheryl. Joyce’s Anatomy of Culture. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1986. Kershner, R. B. Joyce, Bakhtin, and Popular Literature: Chronicles of Disorder. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1989.  Kershner, R. B., ed. Joyce and Popular Culture. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1996. Leonard, Garry. Advertising and Commodity Culture in Joyce. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1998. Leonard, Garry, and Jennifer Wicke, eds. “Joyce and Advertising,” Special Double Issue, James Joyce Quarterly 30–31 (Summer–Fall 1993). Osteen, Mark. The Economy of “Ulysses”: Making Both Ends Meet. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1995. 

Nolan, Emer. James Joyce and Nationalism. London: Routledge, 1995.

Pearce, Richard, ed. Molly Blooms: A Polylogue on “Penelope” and Cultural Studies. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1994. 

Orr, Leonard, ed. Joyce, Imperialism, and Postcolonialism. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2008.

Plock, Vike Martina. Joyce, Medicine, and Modernity. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2010.

Pogorzelski, Randall J. Virgil and Joyce: Nationalism and Imperialism in the “Aeneid” and “Ulysses.” Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2016.

The City

Spoo, Robert. James Joyce and the Language of History: Dedalus’s Nightmare. New York: Oxford University Press, 1994. Ungar, Andras. Joyce’s “Ulysses” as National Epic: Epic Mimesis and the Political History of the Nation State. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2002. Valente, Joseph. James Joyce and the Problem of Justice: Negotiating Sexual and Colonial Difference. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Williams, Trevor L. Reading Joyce Politically. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1997. Wollaeger, Mark A., Victor Luftig, and Robert Spoo, eds. Joyce and the Subject of History. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996.

Bénéjam, Valérie, and John Bishop, eds. Making Space in the Works of James Joyce. New York: Routledge, 2011. Boscagli, Maurizia, and Enda Duffy, eds. Joyce, Benjamin and Magical Urbanism. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2011.  Cope, Jackson I. Joyce’s Cities: Archaeologies of the Soul. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1981. Flynn, Catherine. James Joyce and the Matter of Paris. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019. Lanigan, Liam. James Joyce, Urban Planning, and Irish Modernism: Dublins of the Future. Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014.

Cultural Studies

Loukopoulou, Eleni. Up to Maughty London: Joyce’s Cultural Capital in the Imperial Metropolis. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2017.

Backus, Margot Gayle. Scandal Work: James Joyce, the New Journalism, and the Home Rule Newspaper Wars. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2013.

Seidel, Michael. Epic Geography: James Joyce’s “Ulysses” [1976]. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014. 

Further Reading · 947

Music and Film Burkdall, Thomas L. Joycean Frames: Film and the Fiction of James Joyce. New York: Routledge, 2001.

Hein, Christian. The Double Life of Issy Earwicker: Victorian Values in the Mirror of “Finnegans Wake.” Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 2012.

Hanaway-Oakley, Cleo. James Joyce and the Phenomenology of Film. Oxford University Press, 2017.

Nash, John, ed. James Joyce in the Nineteenth Century. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013.

Knowles, Sebastian D. G. The Bronze by Gold: The Music of Joyce. New York: Garland Publishing, 1999. McCourt, John, ed. Roll Away the Reel World: James Joyce and Cinema. Cork: Cork University Press, 2010. Sicker, Philip. “Ulysses,” Film and Visual Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018. Smyth, Gerry. Music and Sound in the Life and Literature of James Joyce: Joyces Noyces. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2020. Witen, Michelle. James Joyce and Absolute Music. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2018.

Ecology

Religion Fargnoli, A. Nicholas. James Joyce’s Catholic Moments. Joyce Studies 2004, 10. Dublin: National Library of Ireland, 2004. Ó Gráda, Cormac. Jewish Ireland in the Age of Joyce: A Socioeconomic History. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006. Gottfried, Roy. Joyce’s Misbelief. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2008. Lowe-Evans, Mary. Catholic Nostalgia in Joyce and Company. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2008.

Lai, Yi-Peng. EcoUlysses: Nature, Nation, Consumption. Berlin: Peter Lang, 2018.

Lernout, Geert. Help My Unbelief: James Joyce and Religion. London: Continuum, 2010.

Brazeau, Robert, and Derek Gladwin, eds. EcoJoyce: The Environmental Imagination of James Joyce. Cork: Cork University Press, 2014.

Mayo, Michael. James Joyce and the Jesuits. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020.

The Law

Van Mierlo, Chrissie. James Joyce and Catholicism: The Apostate’s Wake. London: Bloomsbury, 2017.

Goldman, Jonathan, ed. Joyce and the Law. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2017.

Joycean Legacies 

Hardiman, Adrian. Joyce in Court: James Joyce and the Law. London: Head of Zeus, 2017.

Carpentier, Martha C., ed. Joycean Legacies. Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015.

Segall, Jeffrey. Joyce in America: Cultural Politics and the Trials of Ulysses. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993.

Fernández Vicente, Olga, Mari Mar Boillos Pereira, Richard Jorge Fernández, and Paulo Kortazar Billelabeitia, eds. Joyce’s Heirs: Joyce’s Imprint on Recent Global Literatures. Bilbao: Universidad del País Vasco /Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea, 2019.

Spoo, Robert. Without Copyrights: Piracy, Publishing, and the Public Domain. New York: Oxford University Press, 2013. Vanderham, Paul. James Joyce and Censorship: The Trials of Ulysses. New York: New York University Press, 1997.

The Nineteenth Century Schwarze, Tracey Teets. Joyce and the Victorians. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2002. Ruggieri, Franca, ed. Joyce’s Victorians. Rome: Bulzoni Editore, 2006. Fordham, Finn, and Rita Sakr, eds. James Joyce and the Nineteenth-Century French Novel. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2011.

Flynn, Catherine, The New Joyce Studies: TwentyFirst Century Critical Revisions. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2022.  Lernout, Geert, and Wim Van Mierlo, eds. The Reception of James Joyce in Europe. London and New York: Thoemmes Continuum, 2004. Price, Brian L., César A. Salgado, and John Pedro Schwartz, eds. TransLatin Joyce: Global Transmissions in Ibero-American Literature. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014. Venegas, José Luis. Decolonizing Modernism: James Joyce and the Development of Spanish American Fiction. London: Legenda–Modern Humanities Research Association and Maney Publishing, 2010.

INDEX OF RECURRENT CHARACTERS The many characters of Ulysses reappear in increasingly inventive ways across its pages. This index is intended to help the reader track them throughout the book. (Figures who appear only once are dealt with in the footnotes, apart from a few who are named only once but have a larger presence in the text and so feature here.) In these entries, characters are described in terms of their role and relationships in the novel (and any previous appearances in Joyce’s fiction) and their historical origins are sketched. There are very few entirely invented characters in Ulysses – almost all can be linked in some way to actual people. In general, dates of birth and/or death or street addresses indicate a basis in a reality, although of course there are exceptions, most notably, the invented Blooms were born (and some died) at specific moments and lived in specific places. To provide historical information on characters is to risk creating the impression that Ulysses is a factual book, distracting readers from its literary qualities and interpretive questions, and leading them to believe that its answers lie beyond its pages, in documents such as Thom’s Directory and the census. Ulysses is a novel: an artful assemblage of words. The sense of the reality of its world is a literary effect, constructed by Joyce as he draws elements from anecdote and history and brings together names and character traits from various sources. Joyce probably knew nothing about many of the “real” people in Ulysses, whose names and addresses he used to add texture to his writing. In this novel, the distinction between the historical and the fictional breaks down: once they appear on its pages, historical figures

become textual characters and take on new life, interacting with one another and with invented characters, and doing and saying unexpected things. The moment in “Circe” when King Edward VII, wearing an image of the Sacred Heart and carrying a plasterer’s bucket, shakes hands with Bloom, Stephen, and some English soldiers (themselves named after Zurich consulate officials with whom Joyce quarreled in 1918) is an extreme case in point. A more subtle case is the deceased Irish politician Charles Stewart Parnell, who is spoken and thought of differently by various characters. Readers might refer to the discussion of the novel’s contentious historical background in the introduction, or to the library of critical works on the subject. Like the odd catalogues of “Cyclops,” this index is a heterogeneous list. It features some horses, for reasons which will be apparent to readers familiar with the book. Bloom’s father’s dog, Athos, is included, although Bloom’s cat is not, not out of canine bias but because the unnamed cat appears only in “Calypso.” It does include recurrent unnamed characters such as the “onelegged sailor”: he is listed between Stephen’s (and Joyce’s) friend Fred Ryan and the famous German body-builder Eugen Sandow. The index also tackles a stranger phenomenon, in which some historical characters coexist with pseudonymous versions of themselves. For example, the solicitor Richie Goulding is based on Joyce’s uncle Willie Murray; however, Willie Murray, and, indeed, Willy Murray and Red Murray, also appear. In another kind of doubling, one character is referred to both by his actual name and by the penname he

Index of Characters · 949

chose for himself: in “Scylla and Charybdis,” Stephen addresses a Mr Magee who is (mostly) called Eglinton in the narration; in “Circe” the two names are unified in the tongue-twister “Mageeglinjohn,” which also builds in Magee/ Eglinton’s nickname, Littlejohn. This index is not complete: some figures are too well known to feature here. It is assumed that readers know who Jesus is. Similarly, Shakespeare. Given the ubiquity of the language of the Bible and of the Bard’s plays in the thoughts and words of the characters of Ulysses, these figures approach omnipresence in the footnotes. Lastly, a note on page numbers: most obviously, since Bloom is present in every chapter and in almost every page of the book from the opening of “Calypso,” it makes no sense to attempt to list his appearances here. More subtly, Molly is in Bloom’s mind throughout the day of Ulysses, and her presence is often evoked by little details, summoned up by fragments of songs; these moments cannot all be listed. Arguably, learning to trace her presence is one of the adventures of the book. This index is indebted to Vivian Igoe’s The Real People of Joyce’s “Ulysses,” Slote’s and Gifford’s annotations, James Joyce Online Notes, and Ellmann’s and Costello’s biographies. A. E. (originally a misprint for the pseudonym “Aeon”), George William Russell (1867–1935): poet, mystic, theosophist, political activist, prominent figure in the Irish Literary Revival, advocate of farming cooperatives, biking enthusiast, and editor of the Irish Homestead, which first published some of Joyce’s Dubliners stories. 31, 35, 153, 158, 177, 178, 179, 181, 182, 184, 185, 198, 232, 355, 379. Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, King Edward VII (1841–1910, r.1901–10): eldest son and heir to Queen Victoria; Grand Master of English Freemasons (1875–1901). 31, 144, 158, 317, 319, 324, 546, 548, 549, 550, 552, 700, 709. Apjohn, Percy: friend of Bloom’s at Erasmus Smith High School, 40 Harcourt Street; died in the Boer War. 154, 305, 512, 620, 657, 669, 688.

talent; also appears in Stephen Hero; based on Joyce’s Dublin Italian teacher, Father Charles Ghezzi, SJ and named after Almidano Artifoni (1873–1950) of the Berlitz School in Trieste, who helped Joyce find a job in Pola in 1904. 219, 220, 240, 244, 486, 487. Athos: Bloom’s father’s dog, presumably named after the character in Alexandre Dumas’s (1820–70) novel Les Trois Mousquetaires (The Three Musketeers, 1844). 87, 496, 676. Balfe, Michael William (1808–70): Dublin singer, violinist, and composer, known especially for the operas The Rose of Castile (1857) and The Bohemian Girl (1846). 155. Ball, Sir Robert Stawell (1840–1913): professor of astronomy at Trinity College, astronomer royal of Ireland (1874–92), and author of The Story of the Heavens (1886); conducted research on parallax at Dunsink Observatory, County Dublin; married Frances Elizabeth Steele in 1868. 440, 661. Bandmann Palmer, Millicent (1845–1926): English-based American actress and director of a theater company, known for playing Hamlet; performing in Leah at the Gaiety Theatre on June 16, 1904. 73, 89, 371, 424, 681, 687. Bannon, Alec: student friend of Mulligan and romantic interest of Milly Bloom; named after John Joyce’s friend, Awly E. Bannon (1867–1950), county councilor for Mullingar, Co. Westmeath. 21, 64, 379, 383, 397, 479. Barry, Mrs Yelverton: society matron and accuser of Bloom; possibly invented by association with Barry Yelverton (1736–1805), First Viscount Avonmore, judge, MP, and Chief Baron of the Irish Court of Exchequer. 441, 442, 443, 444, 551. Barton, James: cab driver, Rose Cottage, Harmony Avenue, Donnybrook. 268, 525. Bateman, Kate (1843–1917): American actress who played the heroine in Leah, the Forsaken; founded an acting school in 1892 in London. 73. Beaufoy, Philip (1878–1947): pseudonym of English fiction writer Philip Bergson, of the London Playgoers’ Club, Clement’s Inn, whose stories featured in Tit-Bits between 1897 and 1904. 66, 67, 151, 434, 435, 436, 601, 638.

Arnold, Matthew (1822–88): English poet, literary and social critic; author of Study of Celtic Literature (1867) and Culture and Anarchy (1869). 7, 487.

Bellingham, Mrs: society matron and accuser of Bloom; possibly invented by association with Sir Daniel Bellingham (c.1622–71), the first Lord Mayor of Dublin in 1665, or with Sir Edward Henry Charles Patrick Bellingham (b.1879), 5th Baron Bellingham, and Lieutenant in the Royal Scots Guards. 441, 442, 443, 551.

Artifoni, Almidano: music teacher and friend of Stephen’s who thinks he is wasting his singing

Bennett, Gordon (1841–1918): American-born founder of the Paris-based International Herald

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Tribune; the Coupe Internationale de l’Automobile was established in his name in 1900. 94, 95, 503, 601. Bennett, Percy: sergeant-major of the 6th Dragoons who lost a match to the Irish boxer Myler L. Keogh in May 1904; in April 1904, Keogh beat a sergeant-major named Garry, whom Joyce renamed after Andrew Percy Bennett (1866–1943), the British Consul-General in Zurich who resented Joyce’s refusal to offer his services in the war, refused to support him in his quarrel with Henry Carr, and subsequently boycotted Joyce’s theater company, the English Players. 241, 304, 305, 306, 429, 559, 560. Bergan, Alf: joker and regular at Barney Kiernan’s public house; based on Alfred Bergan (1879–1947), a friend of the Joyce family and assistant to the sub-sheriff of Dublin. 152, 256, 286, 287, 288, 290, 291, 292, 293, 301, 303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 308, 424. Best, Richard: emphatically bright and pleasant librarian at the National Library; based on Richard Irvine Best (1872–1959), assistant director, and later director, of the National Library, scholar of Old Irish language and literature, and translator of Marie Henri d’Arbois de Jubainville’s The Irish Mythological Cycle and Celtic Mythology. 178, 179, 183, 184, 186, 187, 188, 190, 195, 196, 197, 202, 205, 479. Blackwood, Sir John (1722–99): pro-British MP for Killyleagh and Bangor, County Down; in contrast to Deasy’s account, he opposed the Act of Union but died before voting against it. 31, 534. Blavatsky, Helena Petrovna (1831–91): founder of the Theosophical Society in 1875 and author of the central Theosophical text Isis Unveiled (1876). 135, 178. Bloom, Ellen (née Higgins): wife of Rudolph, mother of Leopold Bloom, daughter of Julius Higgins (né Karoly) and Fanny Higgins (née Hegarty). 107, 414, 417, 518, 673. Bloom, Leopold: husband of Molly and father of Milly and Rudy; born 1866 in Dublin, of Jewish heritage but baptized Protestant and Catholic, once informally by schoolboy friends and a second time in order to marry; only child of Rudolph and Ellen Bloom; advertising canvasser for the Freeman’s Journal; based on several figures, including: Alfred H. Hunter (1866–1926), an advertising canvasser whose wife’s name was Marion and who, Ellmann claims, although without citing a source, rescued Joyce from a violent encounter in Stephen’s Green on June 22, 1904 (JJ 161–62); J. F. Byrne (1880–1960), Joyce’s friend who lived at 7 Eccles Street when Joyce visited Dublin in 1909; Teodoro Mayer

(1860–1942), a Hungarian Jew and owner of Il Piccolo della Sera in Trieste; and Italo Svevo, (pseudonym for Ettore Schmitz) (1861–1928), a wealthy Italo-German Jewish novelist. Bloom, Marcus (b. 1861): dental surgeon at Maynooth College, with a practice at 2 Clare Street in 1904. 240, 323, 545. Bloom, Marion “Molly”: wife of Leopold and mother of Milly and Rudy, born 1870 in Gibraltar, only child of Brian Tweedy and Lunita Laredo, lover of Blazes Boylan; concert soprano; based on several figures, most notably Galway-born Nora Barnacle (1884–1951), Joyce’s partner. Bloom, Millicent “Milly”: born to Leopold and Molly Bloom on June 15, 1889; works as a photographer’s assistant in Mullingar, County Westmeath, dating Alec Bannon. 59, 60, 64, 148, 149, 164, 167, 262, 267, 273, 351, 352, 355, 362, 374, 394, 426, 507, 629, 644, 645, 647, 648, 673, 675, 694, 697, 705, 709, 713, 716, 717, 723, 725. Bloom, Rudolph or Virag, Rudolf: Bloom’s father, born in Szombathely, Hungary to Lipoti Virag; lived in Vienna, Budapest, Milan, and London before Dublin and, finally, Ennis, County Clare, where he bought the Queen’s Hotel; changed his name to Rudolph Bloom (translating the Hungarian virág, “flower”); after the death of his wife, Ellen Bloom, he died from an overdose of monkshood (aconite) on June 27, 1886, in the Queen’s Hotel, a death ruled to be suicide owing to temporary insanity. 73, 98, 106, 110, 118, 148, 172, 273, 321, 323, 324, 328, 361, 432, 467, 481, 482, 483, 484, 485, 486, 488, 489, 490, 491, 496, 513, 515, 562, 634, 637, 648, 653, 669, 675, 676, 693, 699, 716, 718. Bloom, Rudy: born to Leopold and Molly Bloom on December 29, 1893 and died January 9, 1894. 64, 86, 92, 107, 144, 160, 273, 565, 728. Boardman, Edy: tending to “baby” Boardman and companion of Gerty MacDowell; the Boardman family were neighbors of the Joyce family in North Richmond Street from 1895 to 1897. 331, 332, 333, 335, 336, 337, 338, 340, 341, 342, 347, 349, 351, 411, 459. Boucicault, Dion (1820–90): Dublin-born actor, director and playwright whose dramatic hits include The Colleen Bawn (1860), Arrah-na-Pogue (1864), and The Shaughraun (1864). 160. Boylan, Hugh “Blazes”: Molly’s manager and lover, advertising man, impresario of singers and prizefighters; possibly named after Augustine John Boylan (1872–1963), an employee in Guinness’s brewery who sang at concerts. 60, 61, 64, 67, 89, 147, 164, 165, 174, 175, 218, 219, 220, 223, 236, 243, 251, 252, 254, 255, 256, 258, 259, 265, 268,

Index of Characters · 951

270, 271, 304, 305, 306, 312, 394, 434, 525, 526, 527, 528, 574, 575, 683, 692, 694, 696, 701, 709, 713, 715, 716, 723. Brady, Joe (1857–83): stonecutter and member of the Invincibles; hanged in 1883 for the assassination of Lord Frederick Cavendish and Thomas Henry Burke. 131, 132, 292. Brayden, William Henry (1865–1933): barrister, parliamentary reporter, and editor of the Freeman’s Journal from 1892 to 1916. 113, 545. Breen, Denis: Josie’s mentally fragile husband, who receives an anonymous postcard bearing the letters U and P; Thom’s lists a Denis Breen as the owner of the Leinster Billiard Rooms on Rathmines Road. 152, 286, 287, 307, 308, 423, 545, 723. Breen, Josie (née Powell): friend of Molly’s who was involved in a flirtation with Bloom when he and Molly met. 149–52, 243, 352, 356, 420–27, 545, 674, 695, 712, 723. Burke, Andrew “Pisser”: friend of the narrator of “Cyclops,” who talks about Bloom’s attempts to befriend Mrs Riordan and imitates Bloom’s mannerisms. 293, 302, 307, 321, 323, 461, 494, 545, 683. Bushe, Seymour (1853–1922): celebrated in Ulysses for his eloquence in defending Samuel Childs of the charge of having murdered his brother Thomas; barrister, senior Crown Counsel for the county and city of Dublin, subject of scandal because of his relationship with a married woman. 96, 134, 390, 642. Butt, D., SJ: Dean of Studies of University College Dublin, who also appears (unnamed) in Chapter 5 of A Portrait; based on Father Joseph Darlington, SJ (1850–1939). 197, 623. Butt, Isaac (1813–79): barrister who defended Smith O’Brien and the Fenian Conspirators; MP and founder of the Home Rule movement. 133, 556. Byrne, Davy: owner of a public house on 21 Duke Street; based on David Byrne (1861–1938). 165, 168, 169, 170, 171, 462, 545. Caffrey, Cissy: companion of Gerty MacDowell and elder sister of twins Tommy and Jacky Caffrey; a Caffrey family lived on Richmond Parade near the Joyces’ home in North Richmond Street from 1895 to 1897. 331, 332, 333, 337, 338, 339, 340, 341, 343, 344, 345, 346, 347, 348, 349, 350, 351, 355, 409, 410, 534, 546, 547, 553, 554, 555, 557, 559. Callan, Nurse: stern and beautiful nurse at Holles Street Hospital, who perhaps loved Dr O’Hare; based on a nurse of the same name (b.1886). 356, 386, 387, 402, 490, 674.

Callinan, Chris: journalist, brother-in-law of Ignatius Gallaher and friend of the Blooms; based on the journalist Christopher Callanan (1884– 1909). 132, 225, 461, 545, 683. Campbell, Henry (1858–1924): Dublin town clerk. 586, 592, 595, 604. Cameron, Sir Charles (1841–1924): Irish owner of several newspapers published in Ireland and Scotland, Liberal MP for Glasgow (1874–1900), and knighted for his scientific research and his contributions to public health. 224, 545. Carey, Peter: bricklayer, brother of James Carey, and witness against the Invincibles in the 1883 trial. 78, 596. Carey, James (1845–83): builder, town councilor, member of the Invincibles and, at the 1883 trial, Queen’s evidence against them. 155. Carr, Private Harry: English soldier under the command of Sergeant-Major Bennett; named after Henry Carr (1894–1962), an amateur actor who had a minor post at the British consulate in Zurich and who quarreled with Joyce over money in relation to a production of The Importance of Being Earnest in 1918. 409, 410, 428, 429, 534, 546, 547, 548, 549, 550, 552, 553, 554, 555, 557, 558, 559, 560. Chamberlain, Joseph (1836–1914): left Gladstone’s cabinet in 1886 over his opposition to Home Rule in Ireland and formed the Liberal Unionist Party; secretary for the colonies and a supporter of policies that contributed to the outbreak of the Boer War. 155, 434. Childs, Thomas (1823–99): 5 Bengal Terrace, Glasnevin, was murdered in 1899; his brother Samuel was acquitted of his murder. 96, 134, 390, 392, 433. citizen, the: patriot, ethnic nationalist, and regular at Barney Kiernan’s public house, 8–10 Little Britain Street, who responds violently to Bloom’s declarations regarding Irishness and Jewishness; based on Michael Cusack (1847–1906), a.k.a. “Citizen Cusack,” Irish teacher, founder of the Gaelic Athletic Association (1884), which promoted traditional Irish games such as handball, hurling, Gaelic football, camogie, etc.; also David Patrick (D. P.) Moran (1869–1936), journalist, activist, cultural-political theorist, and fervent advocate of a Gaelic, Catholic, Irish-languagefocused Irish nationalism. 281, 283, 284, 285, 286, 287, 288, 290, 291, 292, 293, 297, 298, 301, 302, 303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 310, 311, 312, 313, 314, 315, 316, 317, 318, 319, 320, 321, 322, 323, 324, 326, 327, 328, 330, 366, 460, 469, 470, 545, 551, 553. Citron, J.: the Blooms’ neighbor when they lived in Lombard Street West, 1892–93, in the

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area known as Little Jerusalem; Thom’s lists a “J. Citron” (actually Israel Citron) at 17 St Kevin’s Parade. 58, 118, 148, 469, 509, 545, 705.

Cousins: friend (and creditor) of Stephen; based on James H. Cousins (1873–1956), Dublin theosophist, poet, playwright and teacher. 31.

Clifford, Martha: the woman who answered Bloom’s Irish Times ad for a “smart lady typist” and with whom he is conducting an erotic correspondence under the pseudonym of Henry Flower. 75, 76, 81, 103, 110, 113, 119, 152, 245, 251, 263, 264, 267, 268, 325, 351, 352, 362, 364, 394, 432, 433, 502, 615, 673, 674, 687.

Cowley, Father Bob: ill-shaven and bailiff-ridden friend of Simon Dedalus whose clerical status is unclear. 73, 230, 234, 235, 236, 254, 256, 257, 259, 260, 261, 262, 265, 266, 269, 270, 271, 275, 276, 277, 278, 545.

Cohen, Mrs Bella: madam of a brothel at 82 Tyrone Street in Monto who has a son in Oxford; based on Bella Cohen (1850–1905). 449, 494, 495, 497, 501, 506, 507, 509, 517, 518, 519, 520, 524, 527, 528, 530, 531, 535, 538, 542, 543, 544, 546, 562, 578, 681, 722, 729. Compton, Private: English soldier under the command of Sergeant-Major Bennett; named after Mr F. H. Compton, British Consular official and actor and business manager of Joyce’s theater company in Zurich, the English Players. 409, 410, 428, 534, 546, 547, 549, 550, 553, 554, 559. Coffey, Rev. Francis J. (1843–1917): chaplain at Glasnevin Cemetery. 100, 448. Conmee, Father John SJ: Jesuit priest and rector of Clongowes Wood College to whom a young Stephen appeals in Chapter 1 of A Portrait and, in Ulysses, the superior at the St Francis Xavier’s Community, Gardiner Street Upper; based on Father John Conmee SJ (1847–1910), who was Joyce’s teacher at Clongowes Wood College and at Belvedere College before going on to St Francis Xavier’s in 1898. 77, 182, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 215, 217, 233, 236, 394, 395, 396, 538, 642. Conroy, Gabriel: writes for the Daily Express and is married to Gretta; they are the main characters in “The Dead” in Dubliners. 121, 360. Corrigan, Bernard: brother-in-law of Paddy Dignam; it is unclear if he is the same person as the Father Bernard Corrigan associated with Molly in “Ithaca” or the Father Corrigan who received her confession; Thom’s does not list a Father Corrigan in its index of Catholic clergy. 240, 241, 602, 683, 693. Corley, Lord John: in Dubliners, a son of the inspector of police and one of the “Two Gallants”; in Ulysses, he becomes a debtor of Stephen’s and Bloom offers a confusing explanation of his joke title, “Lord”; based on Michael Patrick Corley, an acquaintance of Joyce’s in Dublin. 572, 573, 574. Costello, Frank “Punch”: medical student at Holles Street Hospital; based on the Dublin doctor, Francis Xavier Costello (1881–1948), who attended Belvedere College. 371, 372, 374, 376, 380, 386, 387, 397, 403, 465, 476, 479.

Cranly: Stephen’s friend in Chapter 5 of A Portrait; based on Joyce’s close friend from University College Dublin, John Francis Byrne (1880–1960.) 7, 32, 176, 177, 180, 203. Crawford, Myles: editor of the Evening Telegraph; based on Patrick J. Mead (1858–1928). 121, 122, 123, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 135, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 310, 322, 326, 363, 379, 434, 444, 602. Crofton: conservative Orangeman; also appears in “Ivy Day in the Committee Room” in Dubliners; based on J. T. A. Crofton (1838–1907) who worked with Joyce’s father in the Collector General’s or Rates Office in 1888. 90, 322, 323, 324, 326, 462, 545. Crotthers, J.: medical student at Holles Street Hospital; based on Robert J. Crothers, who was educated in Scotland and worked at the Holles Street Hospital in 1903. 371, 372, 388, 397, 398, 465, 479. Cuffe, Joe: cattle dealer and Bloom’s employer from 1893 to 1894; based on Joseph Cuffe (1841–1908) at Laurence Cuffe & Sons, 6 Smithfield. 280–330, 355, 380, 440, 545, 633, 683, 703, 722. Cunningham, Martin: employee of Dublin Castle with an alcoholic wife, travels to Dignam’s funeral with Bloom and, later, visits Mrs Dignam with him, to give her the money he has collected; in “Grace” in Dubliners, he accompanies Tom Kernan on a Catholic retreat; based on Matthew F. Kane (1865–1904), a friend of Joyce’s father and chief clerk of the Crown Solicitor’s Office at Dublin Castle; he died from drowning and Joyce used his funeral as the model for Dignam’s. 77, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 103, 110, 111, 117, 210, 236, 237, 238, 290, 300, 319, 321, 322, 323, 324, 326, 327, 329, 444, 529, 582, 602, 657, 723. Curran: friend (and creditor) of Stephen in Ulysses; based on Joyce’s friend Constantine P. Curran (1883–1972) a lawyer and author of James Joyce Remembered (1968), among other works. 31. D’Arcy, Bartell: tenor enraptured by Molly and her singing; also in “The Dead” in Dubliners; based on Bartholemew “Bartle” M’Carthy (1840–1926), principal tenor at St Mary’s Pro-Cathedral,

Index of Characters · 953

Marlborough Street, who also sang with Marie Du Bédat, Christopher Dollard, John Glynn, and John Stanislaus Joyce. 149, 224, 545, 683, 679, 724.

Joyce’s younger self, with his school experiences, friends, and early writings, as well as his familiarity with brothels and his time in Paris.

Dandrade, Miriam: divorced Spanish American who sold Bloom wraps and underclothes in the expensive Shelbourne Hotel. 153, 188, 502, 545.

Dignam, Paddy T.: an acquaintance of Bloom’s who has died suddenly, mourned by his wife and by Patsy (Patrick Aloysius Dignam), Freddy, and three other children, at 9 Newbridge Avenue, in Sandymount; his funeral is held at Glasnevin Cemetery; Joyce modeled his funeral on that of Matthew F. Kane, the inspiration for Martin Cunningham. 56, 62, 67, 70, 71, 88, 92, 95, 96, 99, 100, 105, 110, 114, 118, 148, 149, 156, 163, 210, 211, 231, 237, 238, 242, 266, 267, 276, 277, 288, 289, 290, 300, 301, 339, 353, 355, 356, 361, 363, 378, 447, 448, 601, 602, 657, 664, 691, 723.

Davitt, Michael (1846–1906): co-founder of the Irish Land League (1879), which resisted absentee landlordism and sought fixity of tenure, fair rent, and free sale for tenant farmers. 556, 610, 634, 669. Dawson, Charles, “Dan” (1842–1917): owner of the Dublin Bread Company, MP for County Carlow (1880–85), Lord Mayor of Dublin (1882– 83) and, in 1904, a corporation official; no speech of his was published on June 16, 1904. 18, 120, 220, 545. Deasy, Garrett: headmaster of the private school in Dalkey where Stephen teaches; partially based on Francis Irwin (b.1859), a Church of Ireland Ulster Scot, founder of Clifton School, Summerfield Lodge, Dalkey Avenue, where Joyce taught for a few weeks in 1904. 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 47, 127, 190, 486, 533, 573. Dedalus, Katey, Boody, Maggy, and Dilly: Stephen’s impoverished younger sisters who attempt to get money for food from their father; partially based on Joyce’s sisters. 216, 217, 218, 227, 228, 229, 233, 243, 539, 540, 576, 623. Dedalus, Mary “May” (née Goulding): Stephen’s deceased mother, with whom he refused to pray as she died; based on Joyce’s mother Mary Jane Joyce (née Murray) (1859–1903), who bore twelve children, two of whom died soon after birth, and who died from liver cancer over the course of four months, after Joyce was summoned home from Paris. 5, 6, 8, 10, 42, 145, 182, 228, 539, 540, 541, 565, 616, 623, 632, 724, 728. Dedalus, Simon: Stephen’s father, a talented singer and drinker, whom he describes in A Portrait as “a medical student, an oarsman, a tenor, an amateur actor, a shouting politician, a small landlord, a small investor, a drinker, a good fellow, a storyteller, somebody’s secretary, something in a distillery, a taxgatherer, a bankrupt and at present a praiser of his own past” (P 203); based on Joyce’s father, John Stanislaus Joyce (1849–1931), originally from Cork. 56, 113, 157, 242, 266, 275, 444, 532, 560, 578, 602, 623, 634, 657, 683, 687, 718, 724, 738. Dedalus, Stephen: a would-be writer who has recently returned from Paris and who rents the Martello Tower at Sandycove, which he shares with Mulligan and Haines, and teaches at a private school in Dalkey; the protagonist of Stephen Hero and A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man; based on

Dillon, Floey: girlhood friend of Molly, sister of Tiny, Atty, Maimy, Louy, and Hetty; based on Mat Dillon’s six daughters. 111, 360, 401, 695, 709, 720. 148, 354, 440, 545, 683, 701, 224. Dillon, Mat: friend of Major Tweedy and, in May 1887, host of the party in Roundtown, Terenure where Bloom and Molly first met; based on Matthew Dillon (1831–1899), a friend of the Joyce family, living at Brighton House, Brighton Road, Rathgar. 102, 110, 264, 359, 360, 507, 620, 632, 660, 683, 724, 739. Dillon, Valentine Blake (1847–1904): solicitor, Lord Mayor of Dublin (1894–1895), and alderman of the Rotunda Ward. 148, 354, 440, 545, 683, 701, 224. Dixon, Dr: junior medical officer at Holles Street Hospital; in early 1904, he treated Bloom’s bee sting at the Mater Hospital; based on Joseph Francis Dixon (b.1870), who received a medical degree in December 1904. 94, 155, 369, 371, 372, 374, 375, 378, 379, 381, 382, 383, 384, 386, 402, 465, 479. Dlugacz, Moses: Jewish pork butcher, Dorset Street; named after Joyce’s Trieste friend and English student Moses Dlugacz (1884–1943), a Zionist and cashier with the Cunard Line. 54, 56, 66, 268, 440. Dodd, Reuben James (1847–1931): Catholic Dublin accountant, insurance agent, and money lender; in August 1911, a laborer named Moses Golden rescued his son Reuben James (1878– 1957) who had jumped into the Liffey. 90, 91, 145, 174, 234, 242, 276, 309, 449, 469, 476. Dollard, Ben: large singer with a bass voice who lives in Iveagh House, a charity lodging-house for men; a friend of Simon Dedalus; based on Christopher Dollard (1839–85), a singer and friend of Joyce’s father. 88, 147, 166, 224, 231, 234, 235, 242, 256, 257, 259, 260, 262, 265, 266, 271, 273, 275, 276, 277, 278, 461, 490, 545, 683, 724.

954 · Index of Characters

Doran, Bob: binge drinker; character forced into loveless marriage in “The Boarding House” in Dubliners. 71, 159, 286, 287, 288, 290, 292, 300, 312, 430, 431, 503; 174, 545. Douce, Lydia: bronze-haired barmaid at the Ormond Hotel, who has a trick called “Sonnez la cloche,” or “ring the bell.” 205, 207, 236, 242, 246, 247, 248, 249, 250, 251, 252, 253, 254, 255, 257, 260, 262, 263, 264, 265, 266, 269, 270, 274, 275, 277, 278, 525, 528. Dowie, John Alexander (1847–1907): Scottishborn traveling evangelist who called himself “Elijah the Restorer”; his 1904 European tour did not bring him to Ireland. 144, 406, 464, 478, 642. Doyle, J. C.: Molly’s singing partner in the upcoming tour; based on renowned Dublin baritone, John C. Doyle (d.1939). 61, 90, 578. Doyle, Luke, Caroline, and Henny: friends of Bloom and Molly in Dolphin’s Barn who held charades parties in the late 1880s when they were courting; based on Luke and Caroline Doyle, friends of the Joyce family. 151, 360, 657, 660, 698, 721. Driscoll, Mary: the Blooms’ maid when they lived in Ontario Terrace, Rathmines, from 1897 to 1898. 436, 437, 439. Dubedat, Miss: Thom’s lists two Du Bedat sisters in Killiney in 1904; Joyce probably knew of their cousin, the singer Marie Du Bédat, the “Irish Nightingale” (b.1860); “Lady Gwendoline” is a fabrication. 169, 459, 545. Dudley, Earl of/William Humble Ward (1867– 1932): Viceroy or Lord Lieutenant of Ireland (1902–6), he married Rachel Gurney in 1891; on May 31, 1904, he opened the Mirus Bazaar, held in Ballsbridge to raise funds for Mercer’s Hospital. 242, 243; 224, 229, 247, 294, 294. Dunne, Miss: Boylan’s secretary, typist, and lover of fiction. 220. Egan, Kevin: Fenian exile in Paris, father of Patrice, acquaintance of Stephen; based on Joyce’s 1902–3 Paris friend (and creditor), Joseph Theobald Casey (1846 – c.1911) of the Irish Republican Brotherhood, who fled to Paris in the early 1870s, where he married and had a son, Patrice. 41, 43, 44, 48, 311, 550; 224, 550. Eglinton, John: pen-name of William K. Magee. 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 182, 184, 186, 187, 190, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 199, 200, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207, 479. Emmet, Robert (1778–1803): revered Irish patriot and leading member of the United Irishmen whose 1803 rebellion failed, partly as a result of the failure of French support. His speech from the

dock before he was publicly executed for treason became a touchstone of republican longing; his final burial place is unknown. 110, 230, 278, 293. Falkiner, Sir Frederick (1831–1908): recorder of Dublin, the highest-ranking judicial office, from 1876 to 1905; knighted in 1896; lived at 4 Earlsfort Terrace. 174, 308, 309, 329, 445. Fanning, “Long” John: subsheriff of Dublin, described as “the registration agent and mayor maker of the city” in “Grace,” in Dubliners (D 135); based on John Clancy (1845–1915), neighbor of the Joyces in 17 North Richmond Street from 1895 to 1897 and subsheriff in 1904. 115, 234, 237, 238, 270, 277, 287, 358, 446. Farrell, Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall: based on the Dublin eccentric James Boyle Tisdell Burke Stewart Fitzsimmons Farrell (b.1851), also known as “Endymion.” 152, 206, 235, 240, 244, 274, 481. Farley, Father: based on Father Charles Farrelly, SJ (1859–1938), who lived with Father Conmee in St Francis Xavier Community, Upper Gardiner Street from 1911 to 1938. 77, 463. Figatner, Aaron (1852–1922): Polish-born jeweler, listed as Catholic, with a second-hand jewelry shop at 26 Wellington Quay. 249, 545. FitzGerald, Lord Edward (1763–98): republican who served in the American War of Independence, visited Paris in 1792, and became a leading member of the United Irishman; shortly before the 1798 Rebellion he evaded arrest in Watling Street by the men of Major Henry Charles Sirr, the town major of Dublin, but was soon captured and died of related injuries in prison. 231, 556. FitzGerald, Lord Thomas (1513–37): a.k.a. “Silken Thomas” for the trim on his helmet; on false reports that his father was executed in London, he renounced his allegiance to Henry VIII and declared war on England but was subsequently captured and executed. 45, 221, 222, 329, 583. Fitzgibbon, Justice Gerald (1837–1909): Lord Justice of Appeal from 1878, Freemason, commissioner of national education, against the revival of the Irish language and believed to be against Home Rule. 135, 136, 378. Fitzharris, James (1843–1910): a.k.a. “Skin-thegoat” either for killing and skinning a goat who was eating straw out of his horse’s collar or for selling his pet goat’s pelt to pay a debt; cab driver sentenced to penal servitude for driving a decoy carriage for the Invincibles after the Phoenix Park murders; after fifteen years in prison, he served as nightwatchman for the Dublin Corporation. 131, 132, 577, 584, 587, 595, 596, 597, 604.

Index of Characters · 955

Fleming, Mrs: the Blooms’ part-time housekeeper in Eccles Street; based on Mary Fleming (1856– 1909), a competitively talkative cousin of Joyce’s friend J. F. Byrne. 84, 87, 90, 628, 715. Flood, Henry (1732–91): Anglo-Irish parliamentarian and founder of the Patriot movement who worked, partly with Grattan, for Irish legislative independence. 133, 134.

Gladstone, William Ewart (1809–98): leader of the Liberal Party and four-time Prime Minister of the United Kingdom; his Irish Home Rule bills of 1886 and 1893 were defeated in the House of Lords. 77, 413, 669, 673. Glynn, Joseph: organist in the Church of Francis Xavier in Upper Gardiner Street; based on John M. Glynn (1834–93). 79, 276, 470.

Flower, Henry, Esq: Bloom’s pseudonym. 74–76, 253, 278, 432, 486, 491, 673, 674, 687.

Goldberg, Owen: Bloom’s friend at Erasmus Smith High School. 154, 512, 620.

Flynn, Nosey: racing enthusiast and regular of Davy Byrne’s bar in Ulysses and in “Counterparts” in Dubliners. 163–66, 168–70, 223, 243, 444, 460, 463.

Gonne, Maud (1866–1953): Irish aristocrat, republican revolutionary, suffragette, and actress; lover of Lucien Millevoye, wife of Major John MacBride, and muse to W. B. Yeats. 43, 70.

Galbraith, Mrs: possibly invented through association with a Dubliner living close to Molly’s (fictional) home at Rehoboth Terrace in Dolphin’s Barn, H. Denham Galbraith, Esq., 58B Rathmines Road. 545, 702.

Goodwin, professor: Molly’s accompanist on the piano from 1888 or 1889 to 1895; based on William G. Goodwin (1839–92), a professor of music, conductor, and composer. 60, 61, 148, 149, 257, 273, 534, 535, 683, 697, 699, 725.

Gallaher, Ignatius: London- and Paris-based journalist in “A Little Cloud” in Dubliners who in Ulysses used an ingenious method to describe the Phoenix Park murders to New York World journalists; based on the prominent journalist Fred Gallaher (1854–1899). 85, 130, 131, 133.

Goulding, Richie: Stephen’s mother’s brother, whom he imagines visiting in Strasburg Terrace, Irishtown; cost accountant at Collis and Ward, 31 Dame Street; based on Joyce’s uncle William Murray (1857–1912), who also appears under his own name. 85, 152, 223, 242, 254, 255, 258–62, 265–67, 272, 273, 275, 277, 353, 424, 496.

Gallagher, Mrs Joe: based on Mrs Louisa Gallaher (née Powell), wife of Joe Gallaher, journalist for the Freeman’s Journal and neighbor of the Joyces in Rathmines,1884–87. 426, 545, 718. Gardner, Lieutenant Stanley: officer in the Eighth Battalion of the Second East Lancashire Regiment, died of enteric fever in South Africa; a love-interest of Molly’s. 698–700, 713. Garryowen: “Irish red wolfdog setter” in the care of the citizen and owned by Gerty MacDowell’s grandfather Giltrap; based on Garryowen (b.1876), a prizewinning Irish red setter bred by James J. Giltrap and named after an area in Limerick that features in a rowdy song of the same name; his portrait was used for Garryowen Flake, a tobacco brand named after him. 283, 290, 298, 337, 430, 545, 554. Gautama, Siddhartha (c.563 – c.484 bce): founder of Buddhism. 285, 478. Giltrap: Gerty MacDowell’s maternal grandfather and Garryowen’s owner; based on James J. Giltrap (1832–99), friend of the Gogartys and father of Josephine Mary Murray (née Giltrap), Joyce’s aunt. 299, 333, 337, 340. Geraghty, Michael E.: plumber, Arbour Hill. 280–82, 545.

Goulding, Sara: Stephen’s aunt, wife of Richie Goulding; based on Joyce’s aunt Josephine Murray (née Giltrap) (1863–1924). 38, 41. Grattan, Henry (1746–1820): lawyer, orator and MP who achieved legislative independence for the Irish Parliament in 1782. 133, 134, 219, 556. Gray, Sir John (1815–75): Irish patriot, owner and editor of the Freeman’s Journal. 91, 143, 265. Gregory, Lady Augusta (1852–1932): writer, playwright, folklorist and central figure in the Irish Literary Revival; founded the Irish National Theatre and the Abbey Theatre with W. B. Yeats, Edward Martyn, and others. 208. Griffith, Arthur (1871–1922): nationalist journalist and agitator, founder of the Celtic Literary Society, editor of the United Irishman newspaper, author of The Resurrection of Hungary: A Parallel for Ireland (1904), founder of the Sinn Féin movement in 1905 and President of Dáil Éireann in 1922. 43, 55, 70, 156, 320, 321, 556, 700. Grogan, Mother: calculating mother in the anonymous Irish song “Ned Grogan.” 12, 13, 208, 385, 463, 464. Gumley: nightwatchman for Dublin Corporation. 131, 309, 572, 593, 614.

956 · Index of Characters

Gunn, Michael (1840–1901): co-manager of the Gaiety Theatre, 46–49 South King Street. 272, 591, 631, 719. Haines: Englishman and friend of Mulligan’s from Oxford, visiting Dublin to study the Irish language and Irish folklore; based on Richard Samuel Chenevix Trench (1881–1909), second son of Most Rev. Richard Chenevix Trench (who was Archbishop of Dublin (1864–84)), student at Balliol College in Oxford, an enthusiast of the Celtic Revival, and a friend and guest of Oliver St John Gogarty. 4, 7, 10–23, 25, 178, 185, 190, 191, 206, 207, 238, 239, 243, 392, 556. Healy, Timothy Michael (1855–1931): Irish nationalist politician who led the anti-Parnellite faction of the Irish Parliamentary Party in 1890; a nine-year-old Joyce compared him to Brutus, the leader of the conspirators who assassinated Julius Caesar, in his poem Et Tu Healy!, which his father had printed as a pamphlet. 135, 378, 545. Hely, Charles Wisdom: Bloom’s employer from 1888–1894, approximately; Hely’s, Ltd, stationer and printer, 27–30 Dame Street. 102, 109, 147, 148, 253, 347, 423, 440, 545, 673, 683, 704, 722. Hengler, Albert (1862–1937): proprietor of the popular Hengler’s Royal Circus, established by his father Frederick Charles Hengler in 1867, which had a permanent location in the Rotunda Gardens, near Great Denmark Street. 62, 579, 649. Henry, Jimmy: based on James J. Henry (1855–1916), the assistant town clerk of Dublin Corporation. 236, 237, 460, 545. Herzog, Moses: itinerant grocer, 13 St Kevin’s Parade. 280, 281, 509, 545. Higgins, Zoe: employee at Bella Cohen’s brothel. 449, 478.

resident at Presbytery House of St Francis Xavier in Upper Gardiner Street. 338, 341, 364, 444. Hyde, Douglas (1860–1949): also known as An Craoibhín Aoibhinn (“the pleasant little branch”); academic, folklorist, poet, dramatist, a leading figure in the Gaelic Revival and the first president of the Gaelic League, he published the anthology of Irish poems and translations, Love Songs of Connacht (1893, rev. 1904); became the first president of Ireland in 1938. 178, 190. Hynes, Joe: writes a brief account of Dignam’s funeral, owes Bloom three shillings; impoverished journalist and mourner of Parnell in “Ivy Day in the Committee Room” in Dubliners. 280, 304, 310, 461, 545, 647. Invincibles gang: a.k.a. the Irish National Invincibles; committed the 1882 Phoenix Park Murders; Joe Brady and Tim Kelly stabbed Lord Frederick Cavendish, newly appointed Chief Secretary for Ireland, and Thomas Henry Burke, Permanent Undersecretary (the primary target) and escaped in a getaway cab driven by Michael Kavanagh while conspirators Daniel Curley, Michael Fagan and Joseph Hanlon were driven away by James “Skin-the-goat” Fitzharris; James Carey, another member, turned Queen’s evidence. 78, 130, 132, 155, 292, 584. Iveagh, Lord or Guinness, Edward Cecil (1847–1927): son and principal heir of the brewer Sir Benjamin Guinness, younger brother of Arthur Guinness or Lord Ardilaun, and philanthropist, who established the Iveagh Trust and Iveagh Home, a large charity lodging-house for men. 76, 271, 287. Jackson, George A. (b.1866): scenery designer at the Gaiety Theatre. 631.

Holohan, Hoppy: character with a game leg and assistant secretary of the Eire Abu Society in “Two Gallants” and “A Mother” in Dubliners; based on Hoppy Holohan, a guest at Finn’s Hotel in 1904 who tried to seduce Nora Barnacle who worked there as a chambermaid. 70, 131, 463, 545.

Joachim Abbas or Joachim of Flora (Fiore) (c.1132–1202): Italian Cistercian abbot and mystic whose works Stephen remembers searching for in Marsh’s Library; in Stephen Hero, Stephen is inspired by Yeats’s story “The Tables of the Law” to read them (Joyce himself was prompted to explore Joachim by Yeats’s story in 1902). 40, 233.

Hooper, Alderman John (1845–97): Irish nationalist journalist, politician, alderman of Cork Corporation in 1883 and MP representing SouthEast Cork in 1885. 109, 660, 683.

Johnson, Georgina: Stephen’s favorite at Bella Cohen’s brothel, the daughter of a clergyman; in “Circe,” Stephen discovers that she has married and moved to London. 181, 412, 522.

Horne, Sir Andrew (1856–1924): master of the National Maternity Hospital in Holles Street (1894–1924); also co-founded the Women’s National Health Association and the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. 151, 368, 371, 374, 377, 379, 384, 387, 397, 399, 402.

Kelleher, Cornelius “Corny”: employee of Henry J. O’Neill, carriage maker and undertaker, 164 North Strand Road; Bloom suspects him to be a police informant. 68, 87, 97–99, 101–3, 105, 155, 212, 215, 216, 289, 307, 308, 310, 544, 560–64, 570, 602.

Hughes, John SJ: performs mass at men’s temperance retreat at the Star of the Sea Church;

Kelly, Bridie: sex worker with whom Bloom had intercourse. 393, 420.

Index of Characters · 957

Kendall, Marie (1873–1964): English music-hall performer and comedienne, known for her male impersonations; performing at the Empire Palace Theatre on June 16, 1904. 220, 223, 241, 243. Kennedy, Mina: (invented) blonde barmaid in the Ormond Hotel, who lives at 4 Lismore Terrace, Drumcondra. 236, 242, 246–52, 254, 258, 259, 265, 266, 272, 275, 525, 527. Keogh, Myler: boxer who defeated SergeantMajor Bennett in May 1904; based on Myler L. Keogh (1867–1916) middle-weight champion boxer who beat a sergeant-major named Garry in April 1904. 165, 241, 304, 305. Kernan, Tom: Church of Ireland tea salesman for Pulbrook Robertson & Co; his drinking binge opens “Grace” in Dubliners, in which his Catholic friends bring him on a religious retreat; partly based on R. J. Thornton (1851–1903), commercial traveler, tea-taster, and friend of the Joyces. 68, 87, 88, 96–98, 101, 102, 154, 164, 228–31, 242, 265, 266, 269, 271, 272, 275, 278, 444, 457, 602, 657, 679, 681, 723. Keyes, Alexander (1853–1931): grocer and spirit dealer, 4–6 Ballsbridge. 103, 112, 115, 116, 124, 140, 172, 174, 250, 310, 363, 462, 545, 602, 636, 680, 725. Kock, Charles-Paul de (1793–1871): popular French novelist whose fiction explored low and middle-class Parisian life. 62, 258, 271, 441, 715. Koehler: friend (and creditor) of Stephen in Ulysses; based on Thomas G. Keohler (Keller after 1914), theosophist, writer associated with the Irish Literary Revival, and clerk at Hely’s Stationers & Printers. Lambert Edward “Ned” J.: works at a seed and grain store in the chapterhouse of the ruins of old Mary’s Abbey. 87, 97–99, 102, 103, 106, 119–22, 216, 221, 222, 230, 231, 265, 266, 306, 326, 444, 530, 602, 657. Lane, W.: William Lane (1883–1920), talented jockey who, on June 16, 1904, won the Gold Cup with Throwaway, the New Stakes with Llangibby, and the St James’s Palace Stakes with Challenger. 395, 602. Langtry, Lillie (1853–1929): a.k.a. the Jersey Lily; born on the Island of Jersey, actress, wife of Edward Langtry, and mistress of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales. 703, 720. Laracy, John (1842–1906): superintendent of the B division of the Dublin Metropolitan Police, Lower Castle Yard. 545. Laredo, Lunita: Molly’s mother, whom Molly doesn’t remember; Joyce may have found the name in the Gibraltar Directory and Guidebook, which lists

a Luna de Samuel Laredo (b.1864), thought to be a Jewish name. 697, 712, 713, 721, 728. Lenehan, T.: teller of old jokes and journalist for the Freeman’s Journal; first appears with John Corley as the “Two Gallants” in Dubliners, where he is a skilled parasite; based on Mick Hart, a friend of Joyce’s father, but named after the brothers John Lenehan (1865–1935), a reporter for the Freeman’s Journal and Sport, and Matthew Lenehan (1868–1939), a journalist for the Irish Times. 120, 123–27, 129, 130, 132, 134, 135, 137, 138, 141, 142, 165, 166, 220, 223–25, 242, 251– 256, 311–14, 316, 320–23, 370, 371, 374, 377, 379, 395, 396, 444, 462, 463, 479, 525, 526, 545, 603, 683, 701. Leonard, Paddy: regular of Davy Byrnes; drinking buddy of the main character in “Counterparts” in Dubliners. 88, 170, 171, 301, 444, 460, 463. Lever, Captain John (1824–97): English shipping owner and MP, established the Galway Line shipping company and attempted to develop Galway as a transatlantic port. 594, 597. Lidwell, John George (d.1919): solicitor, 4 Capel Street and friend of Joyce’s father. 251, 260, 263–66, 269, 270, 272, 274, 275, 277, 278, 545. Longworth, Ernest Victor (1874–1935): editor (1901–4) of the conservative, pro-English Dublin newspaper the Daily Express; exposed Joyce by adding “J.J.” to his critical review of Lady Gregory’s Poets and Dreamers. 184, 207, 208. Love, Rev. Hugh C.: history buff, landlord of Father Cowley, whom he’s trying to evict, Anglican minister stationed at St Michael’s Church in Sallins; based on Hugh Coffey Love (1871–1948), landlord, civil servant, and friend of the Joyces. 222, 235, 242, 556. Lovebirch, James: pseudonymous author of novels of erotic chastisement; Joyce attributes to him the fictional novel Fair Tyrants. 226, 441. Lowry, Dan: based on Dan Lowrey (1823–97), owner of the Star of Erin Music Hall, renamed in 1897 the Empire Palace (the present-day Olympia Theatre), 72 Dame Street. 223, 299. Loyola, St Ignatius (1491–1556): founder of the Society of Jesus, the Jesuit order, in 1540. 9, 180. Lynch, Vincent: medical student and friend of Stephen who goes with him to Monto; also in Portrait; based on Vincent Cosgrave (1877–1926), Joyce’s crude and entertaining friend at Belvedere College and University College Dublin, where Cosgrave studied medicine for a time. 371, 376, 379, 386, 391, 397, 398, 406, 410–12, 473–75, 478, 481, 487–91, 493, 515, 519–23, 528, 530, 531, 534, 538, 542, 546, 549, 557.

958 · Index of Characters

Lyons, Frederick M. “Bantam”: diminutive Dubliner who mistakes Bloom’s throwaway comment for a racing tip; a lodger in “The Boarding House” and an enthusiastic drinker in “Ivy Day in the Committee Room” in Dubliners; possibly based on Frederick M. Lyons (1858–1908). 71, 82, 170, 224, 290, 321, 467, 545, 603, 628. Lyster, Thomas William (1855–1922): head librarian of the National Library (1895–1922), translator of German, and member of the Church of Ireland (a Quaker in Ulysses). 192, 201, 202, 479, 555. M’Coy, C. P.: wily Dubliner whose wife is a concert soprano about to go on tour, secretary to the coroner; first appears in “Grace” in Dubliners, where he is attributed multiple occupations, including canvassing for advertisements for the Irish Times and Freeman’s Journal, traveling for a coal firm on commission, clerking in the office of the subsheriff, and acting as secretary to the Dublin coroner; based on Joyce’s father’s friend C. A. Chance (1863–1915), whose wife performed under the name Marie Tallon. 65, 70–73, 77, 87, 107, 159, 223–25, 242, 270, 351, 444, 545, 582, 602. M’Coy, Fanny: concert soprano who is unfavorably compared to Molly; wife of C. P. M’Coy. 270, 723. MacCabe, Florence: the name Stephen gives to a woman with a midwife’s bag that he sees on Sandymount Strand and whom he features, with her friend, “Annie Kearns,” in his story “The Parable of the Plums”; Thom’s lists a Patrick J. MacCabe, meat purveyor; 8 Talbot Street, who was high sheriff in 1902. 38, 139, 140. MacCormack (i.e. McCormack), John (1884– 1945): tenor, joined with the Palestrina choir in the Pro-Cathedral in 1902, performed alongside J. C. Doyle and James Joyce at the Antient Concert Rooms in 1904; later one of the most famous tenors in the world. 90. MacDowell, Gertrude “Gerty”: young woman whose underwear Bloom gazes at on Sandymount Strand; friend of Edy Boardman and Cissy Caffrey; possibly named after Gerty Flint, the upwardly mobile heroine of Maria Cummins’s (1827–66) sentimental novel The Lamplighter (1854). 242, 319, 333–42, 344–47, 350, 351, 355, 365, 420, 674, 687. MacHugh, professor: scholar of classics who frequents the offices of the Freeman’s Journal and Evening Telegraph; based on Hugh MacNeill (1866– 1935), who was referred to as professor although he lacked a permanent academic position. 119–26, 128, 129, 131, 132, 135, 139, 252, 438. Madden, Justice Dodgson Hamilton (1840– 1928): Justice of the High Court, MP for Dublin

University, Vice-Chancellor of Trinity College; author of The Diary of Master William Silence: A Study of Shakespeare and of Elizabethan Sport (1897), which argued that Shakespeare was the Earl of Rutland (1576–1612). 192. Madden, O.: Herbert Otto Madden (1872–1942), jockey who came third on Sceptre in the Gold Cup. 123, 224, 395, 405. Madden, William: medical student at Holles Street Hospital; based on Thomas J. Madden (1880–1927), friend of Joyce, fervent nationalist, member of the Literary and Historical Society at University College Dublin, and a medical student at Holles Street Hospital in 1903. 371, 377, 379, 391, 395, 397, 405, 479. Magee, William K.: actual name of John Eglinton (the pseudonym comes from Eglinton Park, the street on which his parents lived in Kingstown (now Dún Laoghaire)), nicknamed “Littlejohn” by George Moore; librarian at the National Library; based on William Kirkpatrick Magee (1868–1961), assistant librarian of the National Library (1904– 22), essayist, and co-founder of the magazine Dana: an Irish Magazine of Independent Thought in May 1904. 187, 188, 197–200, 202, 207. Magennis, William (1869–1946): professor of philosophy and later of metaphysics at University College Dublin; chair of the Literary and Historical Society when Joyce read his papers “Drama and Life” (1900) and “Charles Clarence Mangan” (1902). 135. Maginni, “Signor” Denis J. (originally Maginn) (1846–1915): eccentric professor of dancing, at 32 and 35 Great George’s Street North (now the James Joyce Centre). 146, 211, 226, 243, 535–37. Man in the Macintosh: mystery man in a brown macintosh, who is the thirteenth mourner at Dignam’s funeral. 105–7, 244, 319, 358, 458, 481. Mario, prince of Candia: Giovanni Matteo, cavaliere de Candia (1819–83), famous Italian tenor, known for singing Lyonel in Flotow’s Martha. 113, 486. Martin Harvey, John, later Sir John MartinHarvey (1863–1944): English actor and theatrical producer who found fame playing Sydney Carton in The Only Way (1899) based on Dickens’s A Tale of Two Cities (1859); his frequent performances in the 1900s were enthusiastically received. 342, 718. Martyn, Edward (1859–1923): playwright, cofounder of the Irish Literary Theatre in 1899, cousin of the writer George Moore and neighbor of Lady Gregory. 185. Mastiansky, O. or Julius: friend of the Blooms, and their neighbor when they lived in Lombard

Index of Characters · 959

Street; Thom’s lists a P. Mastiansky (misprint for Masliansky), grocer, living from 1901 to 1906 at 16 St Kevin’s Parade. 59, 104, 469, 509, 545, 620, 683, 701. Mathew, Father Theobald (1790–1861): Capuchin priest who founded the Total Abstinence Association in Cork in 1838 and eventually halved the alcohol consumption in Ireland; from 1846–49 he raised funds in England and America for famine relief. 92, 265. McCann: friend (and creditor) of Stephen; he campaigns for social liberty and equality as MacCann in A Portrait; based on Joyce’s friend, the socialist, pacifist, and feminist Francis SheehySkeffington (1876–1916). 31. McKernan, Mrs: Joyce’s landlady in 1904, at 60 Shelbourne Road. 31. Menton, John Henry: solicitor, employer of Dignam, lost a game of lawn bowling to Bloom as Molly and Floey Dillon watched; based on John Henry Menton (1859–1905) solicitor and commissioner of affidavits, 27 Bachelors Walk. 99, 102, 103, 110, 111, 151, 152, 231, 235, 238, 243, 287, 432, 444, 448, 470, 545, 602, 657, 683, 691. Mercadante, Giuseppe Saverio Raffaelo (1795– 1870): Italian composer whom Bloom sometimes confuses with Meyerbeer; wrote the oratorio Le sette ultime parole di Nostro Signore (The Seven Last Words of Our Lord) (1838). 29, 270, 328, 614. Mesias, George Robert (1865–1941): Bloom’s tailor; Russian-born merchant tailor and outfitter, 5 Eden Quay. 106, 268, 450, 469, 685. Moisel, M.: friend of the Blooms; based on the Russian-born Nisan Moisel (c.1829–1910), grocer, 20 Arbutus Place, near Lombard Street West. 58, 154, 509. Monks, Edward (1850–1941): compositor in the Freeman’s Journal and dayfather, or foreman of the employees in the printing office. 117, 118, 602. Mooney, Jack: friend of Nosey Flynn, brother-inlaw of Bob Doran; Polly Mooney’s brother, clerk with a rough reputation in “The Boarding House” in Dubliners. 165, 236, 301. Moore, George (1852–1933): novelist, dramatist, and a central figure in the Irish Literary Revival and an associate of A. E., Edward Martyn, and W. B. Yeats. 184, 185, 203, 206, 379, 386. Moore, Thomas (1779–1852): musician, poet, and composer of songs that were celebrated in Ireland and England, collected in Irish Melodies (1807–34). 155, 293. Morkan, Julia: soprano, sister of Kate (who is a music teacher and Stephen’s godmother); aunt of

Gabriel Conroy in “The Dead” in Dubliners; based on Joyce’s great-aunts Elizabeth and Anne Flynn, although Julia Lyons (née Flynn) (1825–1905) and Ellen Callanan (née Flynn) (1832–1904) were also musicians; from 1883 the Flynns lived at 15 Usher’s Island, the address of the Morkans. 155, 623. Moses, Marcus Tertius (1843–1917): wholesale tea merchant, 14 Eustace Street and 30 Essex Street East; also served as a member of the Chamber of Commerce, justice of the peace, and in other civic roles. 243, 427. Most, Johannes (1846–1906): German anarchist who endorsed the Phoenix Park murders in his paper Die Freiheit. 189. Mulligan, Malachi Roland St John “Buck”: loquacious, witty, and insensitive medical student staying in the Martello Tower with Stephen; based on Oliver St John Gogarty (1878–1957), brilliant student at Trinity College Dublin, Irish cycling champion, rescuer of Max Harris from drowning in 1901, later, a surgeon, man of letters and senator; befriended Richard Samuel Chevenix Trench (the model for Haines) at the Oxford Gaelic Society and invited him, and Joyce, to stay in the Martello Tower at Sandycove, which he leased in 1904. 3–18, 21–23, 40, 185, 186, 189–97, 201, 205–9, 238, 239, 243, 325, 371, 372, 379, 382–84, 392, 396, 397, 404, 465, 539, 659. Mulvey, Lieutenant Harry: Molly’s first boyfriend, whose first name she perhaps cannot remember (“Jack Joe Harry”), a lieutenant in the Royal Navy stationed in Gibraltar; partly based on Nora Barnacle’s boyfriend William Mulvagh (1881–1952), an accountant in Galway. 354, 364, 646, 683, 707, 710–12, 731. Murphy, W. B.: garrulous, tattooed sailor who tells tall stories and declares he is about to return to his wife in Cobh after an absence of seven years. 577–88, 593–96, 612, 613. Murphy, William Martin (1845–1919): a.k.a. “the Bantry Jobber”; born in Bantry, County Cork, highly successful building contractor, MP for Dublin from 1883 to 1892, when his opposition to Parnell cost him his seat; later a newspaper publisher who made the Irish Independent the most popular newspaper in Ireland. 286. Murray, John Valentine “Red” (1856–1910): Joyce’s maternal uncle, who worked in the accounts department of the Freeman’s Journal; the basis of Stephen’s uncle John Goulding. 112, 113, 114, 545. Murray, William (1857–1912): Joyce’s maternal uncle, the basis for Richie Goulding, who also appears under his own name. 288.

960 · Index of Characters

Nannetti, Councillor Joseph Patrick (1851– 1915): foreman printer of the Freeman’s Journal and, from 1851 to 1915, Dublin city councilor for the Rotunda Ward and MP for the College Green Division; his family moved to Ireland from Italy in the 1830s. 114, 115, 117, 140, 236, 250, 302, 363, 514, 636. Nameless One: title in “Circe” for the unidentified narrator of “Cyclops.” 444, 445, 545. Nelson, Admiral Horatio (Viscount Nelson) (1758–1805): English naval hero who lost his right arm in the Battle of Santa Cruz de Tenerife and, among other victories, defeated the French and Spanish Navies at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805, after which he died from a gunshot; his scandalous affair with Emma Hamilton, wife of Sir William Hamilton, began in 1799. A 121-foot pillar bearing his 13-foot statue stood on Sackville Street (now O’Connell Street) in 1904. 92, 112, 139, 141, 143, 265, 311, 325, 412, 464, 467, 538. Nolan, John Wyse: journalist at the Freeman’s Journal and friend of Martin Cunningham; based on John Wyse Power (1856–1926), a fluent Irish speaker, writer for the Freeman’s Journal and the Daily Independent (known for cursing, “Kiss my royal Irish arse”), and secretary of the Gaelic Athletic Association (1884–87); his wife, Jennie Wyse Power, was the manager of the Irish Farm Produce Company at 21 Henry Street. 169, 236–38, 243, 311, 457, 512, 545. O’Brien, Lord Peter of Kilfenora (1842–1914): a.k.a. Peter the Packer; crown counsel and, from 1889, Lord Chief Justice of Ireland. A conservative, O’Brien was infamous for using peremptory challenge to “pack” the jury box when he was acting as a prosecutor on the Crown’s behalf. 285. O’Brien, William (1852–1928): editor of the United Ireland, the official organ of the Land League and of Parnell’s Irish Parliamentary Party, MP for Mallow, sided with the anti-Parnell faction, and formed the United Irish League with Michael Davitt and the All for Ireland League. 608, 661. O’Brien, William Smith (1803–64): leader in the Repeal Association, MP, and leader of the Young Irelander Rebellion in 1848. 66, 90, 556. O’Connell, Daniel (1775–1847): a.k.a. the Liberator; Irish Catholic political leader who succeeded in passing the Catholic Emancipation Act (1829), which repealed many of the legal discriminations against Irish Catholics; he assembled peaceful “monster meetings” of up to a million people in his campaign to repeal the Act of Union in 1843; however, his refusal of violence undermined public support and the famine, beginning in 1845, interrupted the campaign. A 12-foot statue of O’Connell on a 28-foot pedestal

stands at the bottom of Sackville Street, now O’Connell Street. 31, 101, 104, 282, 556. O’Connell, John K. (1845–1925): dapper superintendent of Prospect Cemetery, Glasnevin; father of fourteen children with his wife Mary Ann (née Hickey). 103, 448. O’Connor, James (1836–1910): journalist for the United Ireland and Flag of Ireland, whose wife and four children died after eating mussels poisoned by sewage at Seapoint, County Dublin. 363, 635. O’Dowd, Elizabeth: owned the City Arms renters hotel, 55 Prussia Street, where the Blooms lived while Bloom was working at the cattle market, from 1893 to 1894; the Irish Cattle Traders and Stock Owners Association had offices there. 293, 302, 545, 633. O’Hanlon, Canon John (1821–1905): parish priest of Sandymount, at Star of the Sea Church. 343–48, 364, 444. O’Hare, Dr: doctor at Holles Street Hospital; based on Dr John Joseph O’Hare (1877–1907), assistant master at Holles Street in 1904; he died of typhoid fever. 356, 368. O’Leary, John (1830–1907): member of the Irish Republican Brotherhood and joint editor of the Irish People; for his part in the 1865 Fenian rising he served five years in prison and was sent into exile for a further fifteen; after his return from France, he became active in Dublin literary and political circles. 556. O’Madden Burke, Mr: tweed-clad journalist flaunting an umbrella; also appears in “A Mother” in Dubliners, where he is described as a “suave, elderly man”; based on William O’Leary Curtis (1863–1923), who wrote for the Weekly Independent. 129, 131–33, 135, 142, 221. O’Malley, Grace (c.1530–1600): a.k.a. “Granuaile” from “Gráinne Mhaol” (Grace of the bare head); noblewoman, sea captain, and pirate; she reputedly held the son of the Earl of Howth to ransom until he agreed to keep his doors open at dinner, a legend Joyce uses in Finnegans Wake. 316, 583. O’Molloy, J. J.: lawyer with a declining practice and increasing debts; based on John O’Mahony (1870–1904), journalist, prize debater, and highly promising barrister. 121, 123–26, 129, 132–35, 140, 141, 222, 306, 438–40, 659. O’Neill, H. J.: Corny Kelleher’s employer, undertaker who handles Dignam’s funeral; based on Henry J. O’Neill, undertaker and carriage maker, 164 North Strand Road. 68, 289, 602. O’Reilly, Maggot: a friend of the Blooms who is included in the list of men associated with Molly; “maggot,” archaic, a whimsical fancy. 426, 683.

Index of Characters · 961

O’Rourke, Larry: self-made publican and grocer who Molly thinks cuts corners; based on Laurence “Larry” O’Rourke (1840–1913): publican, grocer, and tea, wine, and spirit merchant, 72–73 Upper Dorset Street. 56, 270, 545. O’Rourke, Prince of Breffni: Tiernan O’Rourke ruled Breifne, the area around Counties Leitrim and Cavan, from 1124 to 1172, and when his wife Devorgilla ran off with Dermot MacMurrough, King of Leinster, in 1152, O’Rourke joined with Roderick O’Connor, High King of Ireland, to unseat him; in order to win back the kingship of Leinster, MacMurrough made an alliance with Henry II of England, opening the way for the Anglo-Norman invasion of Ireland in 1169. 34, 128. O’Shea, Katharine (1845–1921): a.k.a. Mrs Charles Stewart Parnell, and “Kitty O’Shea” in the press; Englishwoman who began a relationship with Charles Stewart Parnell in 1880, having separated from her husband, Captain William Henry O’Shea (1840–1905). 702. Parnell, Charles Stewart (1846–1891): Home Rule MP for Meath in 1875 and de facto leader of the Irish Parliamentary Party after Isaac Butt’s death in 1879, used obstructionist practices to push through the Land Act of 1881, which granted fair rent, fixity of tenure, and free sale to Irish tenant farmers. He secured a record number of seats in the 1885 election, which he used to pressure the Liberal Party to support Home Rule legislation; however, he was pushed from leadership in 1890 after he was named a co-respondent in the divorce suit brought by Captain William Henry O’Shea against his wife, Katharine O’Shea. His death, on October 6, 1891, is commemorated on Ivy Day. 4, 92, 106, 108, 156, 238, 285, 464, 556, 595, 603, 608, 634, 669. Parnell, John Howard (1843–1923): Charles Stewart Parnell’s older brother, MP for South Meath from 1895 to 1900 and Dublin’s city marshal from 1897 to 1923. 157, 162, 238, 243, 453, 456, 545. Penrose: boarded with the Citrons, the Blooms’ neighbors on St Kevin’s Parade, and almost caught a glimpse of Molly bathing. 173, 488, 545, 683, 705. Powell, Josie: see Josie Breen. Power, Jack: travels to Glasnevin Cemetery with Bloom; he is a member of the Royal Irish Constabulary, a quasi-military police force under the administration of Dublin Castle; first appears in “Grace” in Dubliners; based on Tom Devin, a friend of Joyce’s father and an official in the Dublin Corporation but named after Jack Power (d.1919), a retired Dublin Metropolitan Police officer. 101,155, 229, 236, 322, 323, 326, 327, 444, 657, 723.

Price, Henry Blackwood: a cousin of Garrett Deasy; based on Henry Blackwood Price (1849– 1923), descendent of Sir John Blackwood, an engineer in the Eastern Telegraph Company, and a friend of Joyce in Trieste; he asked Joyce to promote a cure for foot-and-mouth disease during his trip to Ireland in 1912, which led to an editorial in the September 10, 1912 Freeman’s Journal. 33. Purefoy, Theodore: Methodist and second accountant at Ulster Bank on College Green Branch, husband of Mina; possibly named after Richard Dancer Purefoy, a Dublin obstetrician and Master of the Rotunda Maternity Hospital. 400, 402, 464, 545. Purefoy, Wilhemina “Mina”: a friend of Molly’s; in her third day of labor with her ninth child in Holles Street Hospital. 151, 153, 154, 156, 226, 269, 274, 356, 379, 403, 429, 545, 556, 681, 694. Piper: based on William Stanton Pyper (1868– 1942), born in England and educated in Ireland, a theosophist, journalist, translator, and writer, under the pen-name of “Lugh.” 184, 205. Rabaiotti, Antonio (b.1879): Italian-born icecream vendor with several icecream “gondolas” and a restaurant at 65 Talbot Street. 216, 408, 413. Redmond, John (1856–1918): MP who supported Parnell in 1890 and led the Home Rule Party (1900–18). 556. Ricketts, Kitty: employee at Bella Cohen’s brothel; possibly based on the well-known Monto madam Becky Cooper. 473, 474, 478, 481, 493. Riordan, Mrs: acquaintance of the Blooms at the City Arms Hotel, fervent Catholic who left her money to the Church; also Stephen’s pious, anti-Parnellite governess, known as “Dante,” in Chapter 1 of A Portrait; based on Mrs Elizabeth Conway (née Hearn) (1827–96), governess and teacher of Joyce and his siblings. 94, 166, 464, 545, 633, 691. Rochford, Tom: based on Thomas Henry Rochford (1857–1934), engineer and municipal employee, lived at 2 Howth View, Sandymount; a.k.a. “Rochford of the Quay” for his role in saving a sanitation worker suffering from gas poisoning in a sewer, an event during which Rochford and several other men fell unconscious, two of whom died; received a patent for a “program indicator” for music-halls and theaters. 170, 171, 222, 223, 243, 256, 287, 448, 449, 555. Rock: based on Patrick Rock (1848–1933), bailiff of the Head Sheriff’s Office. 162, 235. Rothschild, Baron Leopold de (1845–1917): English banker and racehorse owner. 166, 467, 672, 680.

962 · Index of Characters

Rubio, Mrs: the Tweedys’ housekeeper in Gibraltar. 710, 711, 729. Rumbold, H: Liverpool-based barber and hangman; named after Sir Horace Rumbold (1869–1941), British ambassador to Switzerland, who failed to respond when Joyce wrote to him to intervene in Consul-General Bennett’s boycott of the English Players. 291, 295, 446, 551. Russell, George William: see A. E. Ruttledge: based on Wilson Ormsby Ruttledge (1853–1918), cashier and advertising manager with the Freeman’s Journal. 113, 270. Ryan, Fred: friend (and creditor) of Stephen in Ulysses; based on Frederick Ryan (1876–1913), socialist, accountant, co-editor of the Dublin magazine Dana with William Kirkpatrick Magee (John Eglinton), and co-founder of the Irish National Theatre. 31, 205. sailor, the onelegged: man (possibly more than one man) who begs around Dublin on crutches, “For England, home and country.” 210, 216, 239, 677, 699. Sandow, Eugen (1867–1925): born Friedrich Wilhelm Müller, famous German strongman and showman whose book, Strength and How to Obtain It (1897) was one of the earliest body-building manuals. 59, 414, 634, 662, 674. Sceptre: racehorse whose odds in the Ascot Gold Cup Race on June 16, 1904 were seven to four against. 123, 165, 224, 255, 312, 395, 533, 602. Seymour: friend of Mulligan who is leaving his medical studies to join the army; based on Robert Francis Seymour (1882–1939), who received an MD from Trinity College Dublin in 1907 and became a major in the Royal Army Medical Corps during the First World War. 7, 22. Sherlock, Lorcan (1874–1945): Secretary of Dublin Corporation and later Lord Mayor of Dublin (1912–15). 237, 452, 453. Sinico, Mrs Emily: married woman killed by a slow-moving train at Sydney Parade railway station in 1903; her life and death are central to “A Painful Case” in Dubliners. 110, 648, 663. Skin-the-goat: see James Fitzharris. Stanhope, Mrs Hester: young married woman and close friend of Molly’s in Gibraltar. 706, 731. Steevens, Grissel (1653–1746): following the dying wish of her brother, the physician Richard Steevens, that she leave her money to found a hospital for the poor, Grissel Steevens built the first public hospital in Dublin, Dr Steevens’s Hospital; her habitual scarf-wearing prompted rumors that her face was deformed. 391, 530.

Stephens, Davy (1845–1925): a.k.a. “Sir Davy” and the “prince of the news vendors”; eccentric newspaper seller who catered to passengers on the mailboats at Kingstown Harbour (now Dún Laoghaire) and sold papers to King Edward VII during his visit to Ireland in 1903. 113, 444. Stephens, James (1825–1901): founder and leader of the Fenians, or the Irish Republican Brotherhood, he raised funds for a rising in 1865 but was imprisoned in Richmond jail in Dublin before escaping to Paris and New York. 66, 156, 303, 457. Stephens, James (1880–1950): poet, fiction writer, and contributor to the United Irishman.185. Stoer, Mrs.: a neighbor of Dignam’s in Sandymount; her family is known to Dignam’s son and, possibly, Gerty MacDowell; based on Mrs Emile Stoer (1850–1944), 15 Newgrove Avenue, Sandymount. 240, 241, 336. Stratton, Eugene: stage name of Eugene Augustus Ruhlmann (1861–1918), white American blackface music-hall star; featured in Fun on the Bristol at the Dublin Theatre Royal in June 1904. 89, 213, 244, 421. stripling, the blind: a sightless piano-tuner who returns to the Ormond Hotel for his tuning fork. 172, 173, 240, 244, 270, 278, 459, 504, 677. Stuart, Charles: Bonnie Prince Charlie (1720–88), Jacobite pretender to the English throne. 233. Swan, Brother William (1834–1911): Christian brother and Superior of the O’Brien Institute for Destitute Children (close to the Artane Industrial School). 210. Sweny, F. W.: based on Frederick William Sweny (1856–1924), chemist, 1 Lincoln Place. 80, 419, 628. Synge, John Millington (1871–1909): director of the Irish National Theatre Society and major Irish dramatist whose Playboy of the Western World caused a riot in the Abbey Theatre in 1907. 190, 191, 207. Talbot, Florry: employed at Bella Cohen’s brothel; based on Florrie Power (b.1875), resident at 36 Faithful Place off Lower Tyrone Street. 474, 475. Talbot de Malahide, Lord (d.1329): the Talbots, an old English family of the Pale, were made lord admirals of Malahide by Edward IV in 1476. 214, 383, 572. Talboys, Mrs Mervyn: possibly invented through association with the Talboys family, former Lords of Kyme, whose baronetcy ended in 1560 owing to the lack of a male heir. 442–4, 551. Tallon, Daniel (1836–1908): initially tailor and outfitter, wine merchant and grocer, Lord Mayor

Index of Characters · 963

of Dublin 1897–99, and member of Dublin City Council between 1891 and 1903. 56, 632. Taylor, John F. (c.1850–1902): celebrated Irish barrister, orator, and journalist. 135, 136, 440. Temple: socialist friend of Stephen’s in Portrait and his friend (and creditor) in Ulysses; based on John R. Elwood (1881–1934), college friend of Joyce and medical practitioner. 31, 40. Tennyson, Alfred Lord (1809–92): a “rhymester” according to Stephen in Portrait (P 67); major English poet, appointed poet laureate in 1850; his poems In Memoriam (1850) and “The Charge of the Light Brigade” (1854) feature repeatedly in Ulysses. 50, 193, 546. Thom, Alexander & Co.: Bloom’s workplace from around 1886 to 1892; publishers of Thom’s Official Directory and Dublin Gazette, 87–89 Abbey Street Middle. 148, 328, 360, 660, 722.

Australia and a friend of the Joyces. 54, 55, 70, 258, 306, 433, 553, 554, 558, 607, 620, 662, 682, 691, 693, 698, 700, 703, 706, 707, 708, 710, 713, 716, 722, 731. Twigg, Lizzie: replied to Bloom’s ad in the Irish Times; Bloom wonders if he sees her with A.E.; based on Elizabeth “Lizzie” Ann Twigg (1881– 1933), poet and protégé of A. E.; also published under the name Éilís Ní Chraoibhín. 152, 158. Vaughan, Father Bernard John, SJ (1847–1922): English celebrity preacher who delivered sermons to the poor of Dublin and London and to half a million people around the world; the model for Father Purdon in “Grace” in Dubliners, according to Ellmann (  JJ 133). 79, 210, 211. Virag, Rudolf: see Rudolph Bloom.

Thornton, Mrs: midwife for the Blooms; based on Mary Thornton, the midwife who delivered four of Joyce’s siblings. 64, 154, 466.

Wet, Christiaan Rudolph De (1854–1922): Boer (Afrikaner) general and statesman, commander-inchief of the Orange Free State forces in the Boer War (1899–1902), leader in the Afrikaner rebellion in 1914. 156, 551, 603.

Throwaway: male bay horse, owned by F. Alexander and ridden by W. Lane, who won the Gold Cup at Ascot, on June 16, 1904, at odds of twenty to one. 312, 321, 395, 500, 560, 601, 602.

Wetherup: rate collector and source of turns of phrase; based on William Weatherup (1832–95), worked with Joyce’s father in the Rates Office. 122, 613.

Tone, Wolfe (1763–98): Theobald Wolfe Tone, co-founder of the United Irishman, a group of multi-denominational radical nationalists, arrested in 1798 for his leadership of the Irish Rebellion; committed suicide in jail before his execution. 220, 284, 293, 550, 556.

William of Orange, William III (1650–1702, r.1689–1702): defeated the deposed Catholic King James II (overthrown in the Glorious Revolution of 1688 at which William and his wife Mary II, James’s daughter, acceded to the throne) at the Battle of Boyne in 1690, restoring Protestant control over Ireland.

Troy of the D.M.P.: based on Denis Troy, 14 Arbour Hill, Inspector, Dublin Metropolitan Police. 281, 545. Turko the terrible: moustached tyrant of a pantomime of the same name that debuted at the Gaiety Theatre in 1868, based on William Bough’s Turko the Terrible; or, The Fairy Roses (London, 1868). 10, 55, 553. Turnbull, Donald: Bloom’s friend at Erasmus High School; based on Scottish-born Donald Turnbull (1859–1908). 512. Tweedy, Major Brian Cooper: Molly’s father, a drum major in the Royal Dublin Fusiliers, who were stationed in Gibraltar from January 1884 to February 1886, associates himself (implausibly) with the Battle of Plevna in Bulgaria (1877) and Rorke’s Drift during the Zulu Wars (1879); based on Malachy Powell (1821–1917), officer in the British army who received the honorary title of Major from the Volunteer Military Force in South

Wylie, Reggy: Gerty MacDowell’s crush; invented brother of W. E. Wylie. 336, 342, 347. Wylie, W. E.: cyclist participating in the bicycle race at Trinity College Park and medical student at Trinity College; based on William E. Wylie (1881–1964), barrister and cyclist. 227, 334. Yeats, William Butler (1856–1939): central Irish poet and playwright, founder of the Irish National Literary Society, co-founder of the Irish Literary Theatre (1898) and the Abbey Theatre (1904), author of numerous collections of poetry and plays, including The Wanderings of Oisin (1889) and Cathleen ni Houlihan (1902). 184, 208, 479. Zinfandel: racehorse owned by Thomas Evelyn Ellis (1880–1946) Eighth Baron Howard de Walden and ridden by Mornington Cannon who won the Coronation Cup on June 3, 1904, at Epsom Downs. 165, 170, 312, 533, 602.