(576.10-577.35) After two days of readings that were fairly unique within the Wake, we move back toward more "conventional" material today. The passage begins with a voice saying, "He sighed in sleep." Another replies, "Let us go back." A third (or is it the first?) says, "Lest he forewaken." And finally, we hear, "Hide ourselves." This bit of dialogue presents a characteristically Wakeian problem: Who's speaking? If you believe the parents are still outside of the twins' room, this is HCE and ALP saying they should go back to their own room before Jerry begins to cry again. If you believe the children are spying on their parents, this is Shaun, Shem, and Isabel hearing HCE sigh and deciding to get back to their rooms before HCE wakes (again). Of course, it could also be the four peeping old men (whose dialogue often appears in bursts of four short statements), or it could be any combination of these. Regardless, after a brief wish (asking that "hovering dreamwings, folding around, will hide from fears my wee mee mannikin, keep my big wig long strong manomen, guard my bairn, mon beau" -- this is HCE's desire that he, his wife, and his children will be protected in sleep), a voice says, "To bed."
The remainder of the passage consists of a prayer (to "Prospector projector and boomooster giant builder of all causeways woesoever") requesting guidance and protection for HCE and ALP. If you think the children were spying on their parents, this could be the children saying their prayers before going to bed. It could also be HCE praying for himself and his wife.
I won't summarize the prayer here. It's fairly straightforward on its own. I do like the various titles given for HCE and ALP, such as "boniface and bonnyfeatures" and "humpered and elf." I also like that one of the specific requests is for God to "guide them through the labyrinth of their samilikes and the alteregoases of their pseudoselves," since this is sort of what we're asking for as we read through the Wake and come across the many alter egos and pseudoselves of HCE, ALP, and family. Finally, it's cool how another of the requests incorporates, as McHugh notes, Vico's cycle, as well as the structure of the Wake itself: "that he may dishcover her, that she may uncouple him, that one may come and crumple them, that they may soon recoup themselves: now and then, time on time again, as per periodicity."
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
"And whew whewwhew whew."
(573.33-576.9) I went slightly over in excerpt length today, mostly on account of the fact that there's a sentence about 23 lines (or two-thirds of a page) long at the end of this passage. This also allows me to end today's reading at the end of a paragraph and has the added bonus of shortening tomorrow's reading.
But what a doozy today's reading is. Now I can understand a little better why Campbell and Robinson call this five-page section the most complicated in the book. (I'll add that it's among the most interesting, challenging, and entertaining sections as well.) The passage for today is steeped in legalese, and the references are more obscure than in yesterday's reading. The hegemony/submission question of yesterday seems to have been a cliffhanger that will go unanswered (at least for now), and what we have today is a legal dispute regarding "the goods of Cape and Chattertone, deceased." The case, Mark tells us, "is perhaps the commonest of all cases arising out of umbrella history in connection with the wood industries in our courts of litigation." My hunch is that on one level it's about how ALP tries to pay for the costs of HCE's funeral (here, the "wood industries" refers to the coffin).
We start with a maxim that seems to make enough sense: "so long as there is a joint deposit account in the two names a mutual obligation is posited." So, it would seem that if there wasn't enough money in the joint account held by HCE and ALP, ALP would be obligated to make up the shortage and any associated fees occasioned by her tendering a bad check. The next two pages might make your head spin as you question that simple explanation.
Campbell and Robinson suggest that this passage moves from a discussion of the couple's finances and "quickly opens out into a review of the history of Christianity in the British Isles, particularly since the days of Henry VIII (Hal Kilbride) and the Counter Reformation." I won't dwell on the religious aspect too much right now, but in this reading, ALP -- here "Ann Doyle" -- is a junior partner of the Roman Catholic church, which owes money to a rival firm, the Anglican church. It's clear that tithes were due to "the heathen church emergency fund" (note those HCE initials), and that Tangos, Limited (the entity Campbell and Robinson identify as the Catholic church) asserts as its defense that it made full payment of the amount due. The fund counterclaimed that payment was invalid because it was signed by the senior partner of Tangos, who is now missing and presumed dead (he's "entered into an ancient moratorium"). The bank declined to cash the check, which the fund trustee negotiated to a third party and is now in the hands of Pango, a "rival concern" of Tangos (and the entity Campbell and Robinson identify as the Anglican church).
At trial, the jury couldn't reach a verdict, and the judge "went outside his jurisfiction altogether" and essentially ordered that Pango ("the neutral firm") is liable for the debt, and so it's natural that Pango wants Tangos to pay up. As I noted before, the senior partner who signed the check has gone missing and was therefore unable to testify. Instead, the junior partner, Ann Doyle (who was originally a member of the jury . . . and originally presumed to be a man) took the stand. She proposed to settle the dispute by merging (both corporately and physically) with Pango. (If we follow my funeral expenses theory, this would be ALP trying to pay for the funeral by marrying the man to whom she's in debt.)
The settlement arrangement was overruled by an appellate judge, who reversed the decision of the trial judge and jury of "judaces" (presumably approving the settlement) and held that, since ALP was actually a slave and had no legal rights, and since the senior partner is presumed dead and "no property at law can exist in a corpse," there could be no settlement agreement between ALP and Pango ("Pepigi's pact was pure piffle"). The conclusion? "Wharrem would whistle for the rhino." (Whatever that means. McHugh identifies "rhino" as slang for "money," so perhaps the right to collect on the debt will go up for auction?)
In their Skeleton Key, Campbell and Robinson offer a summary of this passage's meaning: "Not only romantic love but also Christian faith is snarled, knotted, and exhausted. All the wires have been so crossed that there is no clean flow any more, either of natural or supernatural energy." That works for me. I'll also offer this: Yesterday's reading dealt with the insecurities dwelling at the darkest depths of HCE's subconscious (i.e., How can I function in society given my constant and all-consuming lust and love?), and today's reading deals with the what HCE presumes are the insecurities dwelling at the darkest depths of ALP's subconscious (i.e., Who will replace my husband with when he's gone?).
But what a doozy today's reading is. Now I can understand a little better why Campbell and Robinson call this five-page section the most complicated in the book. (I'll add that it's among the most interesting, challenging, and entertaining sections as well.) The passage for today is steeped in legalese, and the references are more obscure than in yesterday's reading. The hegemony/submission question of yesterday seems to have been a cliffhanger that will go unanswered (at least for now), and what we have today is a legal dispute regarding "the goods of Cape and Chattertone, deceased." The case, Mark tells us, "is perhaps the commonest of all cases arising out of umbrella history in connection with the wood industries in our courts of litigation." My hunch is that on one level it's about how ALP tries to pay for the costs of HCE's funeral (here, the "wood industries" refers to the coffin).
We start with a maxim that seems to make enough sense: "so long as there is a joint deposit account in the two names a mutual obligation is posited." So, it would seem that if there wasn't enough money in the joint account held by HCE and ALP, ALP would be obligated to make up the shortage and any associated fees occasioned by her tendering a bad check. The next two pages might make your head spin as you question that simple explanation.
Campbell and Robinson suggest that this passage moves from a discussion of the couple's finances and "quickly opens out into a review of the history of Christianity in the British Isles, particularly since the days of Henry VIII (Hal Kilbride) and the Counter Reformation." I won't dwell on the religious aspect too much right now, but in this reading, ALP -- here "Ann Doyle" -- is a junior partner of the Roman Catholic church, which owes money to a rival firm, the Anglican church. It's clear that tithes were due to "the heathen church emergency fund" (note those HCE initials), and that Tangos, Limited (the entity Campbell and Robinson identify as the Catholic church) asserts as its defense that it made full payment of the amount due. The fund counterclaimed that payment was invalid because it was signed by the senior partner of Tangos, who is now missing and presumed dead (he's "entered into an ancient moratorium"). The bank declined to cash the check, which the fund trustee negotiated to a third party and is now in the hands of Pango, a "rival concern" of Tangos (and the entity Campbell and Robinson identify as the Anglican church).
At trial, the jury couldn't reach a verdict, and the judge "went outside his jurisfiction altogether" and essentially ordered that Pango ("the neutral firm") is liable for the debt, and so it's natural that Pango wants Tangos to pay up. As I noted before, the senior partner who signed the check has gone missing and was therefore unable to testify. Instead, the junior partner, Ann Doyle (who was originally a member of the jury . . . and originally presumed to be a man) took the stand. She proposed to settle the dispute by merging (both corporately and physically) with Pango. (If we follow my funeral expenses theory, this would be ALP trying to pay for the funeral by marrying the man to whom she's in debt.)
The settlement arrangement was overruled by an appellate judge, who reversed the decision of the trial judge and jury of "judaces" (presumably approving the settlement) and held that, since ALP was actually a slave and had no legal rights, and since the senior partner is presumed dead and "no property at law can exist in a corpse," there could be no settlement agreement between ALP and Pango ("Pepigi's pact was pure piffle"). The conclusion? "Wharrem would whistle for the rhino." (Whatever that means. McHugh identifies "rhino" as slang for "money," so perhaps the right to collect on the debt will go up for auction?)
In their Skeleton Key, Campbell and Robinson offer a summary of this passage's meaning: "Not only romantic love but also Christian faith is snarled, knotted, and exhausted. All the wires have been so crossed that there is no clean flow any more, either of natural or supernatural energy." That works for me. I'll also offer this: Yesterday's reading dealt with the insecurities dwelling at the darkest depths of HCE's subconscious (i.e., How can I function in society given my constant and all-consuming lust and love?), and today's reading deals with the what HCE presumes are the insecurities dwelling at the darkest depths of ALP's subconscious (i.e., Who will replace my husband with when he's gone?).
Monday, September 28, 2015
"shall she submit?"
(571.27-573.32) After remarking on HCE's noisy coughs in yesterday's reading, one of the children notes that HCE perhaps is asleep: "He is quieter now." (This could also be HCE remarking to ALP that Jerry has gotten over his nightmare and quieted down.) If it's the children outside of the parents' room, they hear a noise in the parents' room and wait to listen. If it's HCE and ALP outside of the twins' room, they hear a noise in that room and wait to listen: "Wait! Hist! Let us list!" Mark explains that the young generation will knock off the old and take control, with the children "trowelling a gravetrench for their fourinhand forebears."
Regardless of where the parents are at (in their room being spied upon by the children, or outside of the twins' room), they now realize something is amiss. The door of Buttercup/Isabel is open. What could be happening?
"Let us consider," Mark says. This introduces an extended passage, presented (at least initially) by attorney Interrogarius Mealterum, which Campbell and Robinson call "probably the strangest and most complicated in the book." Essentially, it's a summary of the sexual intrigues that could be arise if all of the thoughts or desires lurking deep within each family member's subconscious were to be acted upon, presented in the form of a legal brief. Campbell and Robinson write, "One is struck with horror that such matters can be discussed in the boring terminology of everyday legal experience, and that this phraseology, and the social attitude it covers, should be the most characteristic expression of our time." I haven't found the beginning of the passage particularly complicated (in comparison to many other parts of the Wake), but my lack of confusion might arise from my background in law (a lot of what I read at my job doesn't sound too far off from this). I think that Tindall does a good job describing what makes it so successful:
If you're looking for a taste of the Wake to see Joyce at his best, mark this passage down as one to check out.
Regardless of where the parents are at (in their room being spied upon by the children, or outside of the twins' room), they now realize something is amiss. The door of Buttercup/Isabel is open. What could be happening?
"Let us consider," Mark says. This introduces an extended passage, presented (at least initially) by attorney Interrogarius Mealterum, which Campbell and Robinson call "probably the strangest and most complicated in the book." Essentially, it's a summary of the sexual intrigues that could be arise if all of the thoughts or desires lurking deep within each family member's subconscious were to be acted upon, presented in the form of a legal brief. Campbell and Robinson write, "One is struck with horror that such matters can be discussed in the boring terminology of everyday legal experience, and that this phraseology, and the social attitude it covers, should be the most characteristic expression of our time." I haven't found the beginning of the passage particularly complicated (in comparison to many other parts of the Wake), but my lack of confusion might arise from my background in law (a lot of what I read at my job doesn't sound too far off from this). I think that Tindall does a good job describing what makes it so successful:
The clarity of this abstract, emerging from the darkness of dream around it, insures the effect. Recoiling in horror from man's humanity to man, we laugh; for this amorous confusion is an example of what Ruskin, a better definer than Webster, called the grotesque, a kind of art, he said, that combines the frightful and the funny.Joyce was at his best when writing this passage (which begins on page 572, line 18), and it really doesn't lend itself to any kind of summary. It concerns the family and their close associates, here given Roman names (for example: Honuphrius (HCE), Anita (ALP), Eugenius (Shaun/Kevin), Jeremias (Shem/Jerry), Felicia (Isabel), and Fortissa (Kate). Honuphrius has engaged in any number of extramarital affairs (including, it's alleged, incestual ones with his children), and he has set in motion a plan to have Anita commit adultery as well. Anita, like most of the other adult figures, has engaged in adultery herself, and any number of love triangles can be traced. Anita is primarily concerned with preserving the virginity and honor of her daughter, Felicia, but she fears "reprehensible conduct" between the sons if she is successful in doing so (it's hinted that the brothers' incestual urge could be turned toward each other if they're shut off from Felicia). Today's reading ends on a cliffhanger: "Has he hegemony and shall she submit?"
If you're looking for a taste of the Wake to see Joyce at his best, mark this passage down as one to check out.
Sunday, September 27, 2015
"Vouchsafe me more soundpicture!"
(569.17-571.26) As today's passage begins, a priest, "Monsigneur of Deublan," blesses the crowd and begins a great feast. All sorts of food is available: chicken, pigeon, rabbit, pheasant, trout, salmon, sturgeon, capon, and lobsters, to name a handful. In the midst of the feast, songs are sung to honor the king and, presumably, HCE: "Old Finncoole, he's a mellow old saoul when he swills his fuddlers free! Poppop array! For we're all jollygame fellhellows which nobottle can deny!" Soon actors are called for. Among the plays proposed are "two genitalmen of Veruno" (Shakespeare's The Two Gentlemen of Verona) and "all for love of fair pentient" (Dryden's All for Love). After a few fine performances, which draw shouts of "Bravose!" and "Bravossimost!," a moment of silence is called for: "The royal nusick their show shall shut with songslide to nature's solemn silence." Numerous dances follow, causing Mark to remark, "Some wholetime in hot town tonight!" This glorious day should be coming soon, he adds, "but it is never here that one today." (Campbell and Robinson suggest that this scene of HCE's triumph suggests the anticipatory euphoria of foreplay experienced by HCE in bed with his wife, which makes some sense to me.)
All this talk prompts one of the listeners to ask Mark questions about HCE. Is he ever in ill health? No, he's "exceedingly herculeneous" (I'm reading this as like Hercules). "One sees how he is lot stoutlier than of formerly," says Mark, before comparing HCE to Abraham. "One would say him to hold whole a litteringture of kidlings under his aphroham." Has he been married for long? Yes, "ever since so long time in Hurtleforth." He has "two fine mac sons" that, when combined, form a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts: "a superfine mick want they mack metween them." Someone asks Mark why he's leering again. "I am not leering, I pink you pardons," he replies. "I am highly sheshe sherious."
At this point, a subtle shift seems to occur, but it's possible we've been shifting all along. Mark, who may now be one of the sons, asks, "Do you not must want to go somewhere on the present?" It becomes apparent as the paragraph proceeds that the "somewhere" is the toilet, for someone has to urinate (they take a walk "till the number one"). The dialogue continues as they pass through the hall, indicating that Kevin and Jerry, who have been spying on their parents, are walking through the house to the "littleeasechapel" (or bathroom). They look at pictures on the wall depicting war and nature, and eventually they seem to be joined by Isabel. As one boy uses the facilities, the other speaks with her about her "lifesighs . . . after that swollen one" (HCE). Isabel replies, "I am not sighing, I assure, but only I am soso sorry about all in my saarasplace." As the reading for today comes to an end, one of the children remarks on the parents, whose noises keep the children constantly aware of their presence in the house: "Always I am hearing them. Horsehem coughs enough. Annshee lispes privily."
All this talk prompts one of the listeners to ask Mark questions about HCE. Is he ever in ill health? No, he's "exceedingly herculeneous" (I'm reading this as like Hercules). "One sees how he is lot stoutlier than of formerly," says Mark, before comparing HCE to Abraham. "One would say him to hold whole a litteringture of kidlings under his aphroham." Has he been married for long? Yes, "ever since so long time in Hurtleforth." He has "two fine mac sons" that, when combined, form a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts: "a superfine mick want they mack metween them." Someone asks Mark why he's leering again. "I am not leering, I pink you pardons," he replies. "I am highly sheshe sherious."
At this point, a subtle shift seems to occur, but it's possible we've been shifting all along. Mark, who may now be one of the sons, asks, "Do you not must want to go somewhere on the present?" It becomes apparent as the paragraph proceeds that the "somewhere" is the toilet, for someone has to urinate (they take a walk "till the number one"). The dialogue continues as they pass through the hall, indicating that Kevin and Jerry, who have been spying on their parents, are walking through the house to the "littleeasechapel" (or bathroom). They look at pictures on the wall depicting war and nature, and eventually they seem to be joined by Isabel. As one boy uses the facilities, the other speaks with her about her "lifesighs . . . after that swollen one" (HCE). Isabel replies, "I am not sighing, I assure, but only I am soso sorry about all in my saarasplace." As the reading for today comes to an end, one of the children remarks on the parents, whose noises keep the children constantly aware of their presence in the house: "Always I am hearing them. Horsehem coughs enough. Annshee lispes privily."
Saturday, September 26, 2015
"Alla tingaling pealabells!"
(567.13-569.17) Today's passage was perhaps the toughest one I've encountered in this chapter. We begin with news that the queen will be sending her liege to lead the nobles on a fox hunt. This must be big news, and a big event, for everyone wants to be there. "Yet if I durst to express the hope how I might be able to be present," Mark says. The roads and rails will be jammed with travelers: "All these peeplers entrammed and detrained on bikeygels and troykakyls and those puny farting little solitires! Tollacre, tollacre!"
In preparation for the occasion, the twins will make peace: "Britus and Gothius shall no more joustle for that sonneplace but mark one autonement." The royal envoy's impending visit won't be the reason for that peace, though. Instead, it will come about by Isabel's tears. "It is how sweet from her, the wispful, and they are soon seen swopsib so a sautril as a meise," Mark says.
But these events pale in comparison to the arrival of the king, and his reception of HCE. HCE -- "our boorgomaister, thon staunch Thorsman" -- will get dressed up in his best clothes for the king's arrival and stand among the throng of people, "restrained by chain of hands." He will "receive Dom King at broadstone barrow meet a keys of goodmorrow on to his pompey cushion." McHugh notes that this mirrors the reception that Abraham Bradley King, then Lord Mayor of Dublin, gave to King George IV (he gave him a key to the city and was knighted on the spot), but I also read this as Mark saying HCE will greet the king with a kiss on the ol' arse. Flattered by HCE's welcome, the king will single him out: "Arise, sir Pompkey Dompkey! Ear! Ear! Weaker!" HCE will read a speech to the king (consisting of the Greek alphabet), and the king will make lewd remarks to the ladies on the balconies. And church bells throughout Dublin's city center and four corners will ring out in celebration of the moment.
I admit that I'm a bit confused (at least for the moment) how we got from HCE's "pole" in yesterday's reading to this royal visit. Perhaps it will become clear tomorrow.
In preparation for the occasion, the twins will make peace: "Britus and Gothius shall no more joustle for that sonneplace but mark one autonement." The royal envoy's impending visit won't be the reason for that peace, though. Instead, it will come about by Isabel's tears. "It is how sweet from her, the wispful, and they are soon seen swopsib so a sautril as a meise," Mark says.
But these events pale in comparison to the arrival of the king, and his reception of HCE. HCE -- "our boorgomaister, thon staunch Thorsman" -- will get dressed up in his best clothes for the king's arrival and stand among the throng of people, "restrained by chain of hands." He will "receive Dom King at broadstone barrow meet a keys of goodmorrow on to his pompey cushion." McHugh notes that this mirrors the reception that Abraham Bradley King, then Lord Mayor of Dublin, gave to King George IV (he gave him a key to the city and was knighted on the spot), but I also read this as Mark saying HCE will greet the king with a kiss on the ol' arse. Flattered by HCE's welcome, the king will single him out: "Arise, sir Pompkey Dompkey! Ear! Ear! Weaker!" HCE will read a speech to the king (consisting of the Greek alphabet), and the king will make lewd remarks to the ladies on the balconies. And church bells throughout Dublin's city center and four corners will ring out in celebration of the moment.
I admit that I'm a bit confused (at least for the moment) how we got from HCE's "pole" in yesterday's reading to this royal visit. Perhaps it will become clear tomorrow.
Friday, September 25, 2015
"The court to go into half morning."
(565.6-567.13) We left off in yesterday's reading with Mark focusing on HCE's behind. In today's reading, we move past that. ALP, who stands in front of HCE and closest to the twins, the sleeping Kevin and the crying Jerry, begins to comfort her trembling son. As thunder roars in the air, ALP tells Jerry he's only had a nightmare: "You were dreamend, dear." There is no panther or phantom in the room, she says. Nor, she adds, is there a "bad bold faathern," which is maybe a white lie, since HCE is standing behind her. "Opop opop capallo," she says, trying to cheer him up, and she goes on to tell him that his father will be taking the "lucky load to Lublin" tomorrow to do his business. "Sonly all in your imagination, dim," she says. She ends her comforting with a line that tells him the nightmares will wash away once morning has arrived and beautifully ties together the river and dream themes that run throughout the Wake: "While elvery stream winds seling on for to keep this barrel of bounty rolling and the nightmail afarfrom morning nears."
A transition that sounds just like a commercial break follows. "When you're coaching through Lucalised, on the sulphur spa to visit, it's safer to hit than miss it, stop at his inn!" the commercial voice tells us. It's quite clearly an ad for HCE's pub, where, we learn, we can doze in warmth and enjoy food and drink of questionable quality: "Cried unions to chip, saltpetre to strew, gallpitch to drink, stonebread to break but it's bully to gulp good blueberry pudding."
Following the interruption, the scene resumes back in the "sleepingchambers" of HCE and ALP. In a sense, we're slowly zeroing in on that room, moving from a wide shot of the entire house to a closer shot of the parents' bedroom. As we view the entire house, we see all of the household. The "court" is in "half morning," both indicating the "relaxed" time of half-mourning and, more pertinently, the halfway point between the evening and the daybreak. "Soakersoon" (HCE's assistant) is there, as is Kate ("Katya"), who is undressing ("shakenin dowan her droghedars"). The twelve patrons/jurors -- "the "twelve chief barons" -- stand with their arms folded to make sure everything's at peace before they return to their "runameat farums." The 28 young girls are tending to their hair and lamenting their "sadly ringless hands." ALP, the "first mutherer," kneels, while the twins sleep. HCE secretly has a blade drawn (creating a parallel between the plotting Lady Macbeth/Macbeth and ALP/HCE). Finally, Isabel is doing obeisance to HCE, "first furtherer with drawn brand." With this roll call complete, the court comes into "full morning." Perhaps this is a stage direction, after all, for the spotlight falls back upon HCE and ALP as Mark says, "Herein see ye fail not!"
It appears that HCE and ALP are once again trying to have marital relations, as Mark's focus now turns upon a certain "stark pointing pole," which he says he sees "before my misfortune." We learn the distances from this pole to "the dunleary obelisk," "the general's postoffice," "the Wellington memorial," and "Sara's bridge." Maybe since the pole belongs to the universal father, HCE, it's meant to be viewed as the center of the universe. Our narrator tells us that he leers at the scene because he wants to "see a buntingcap of so a pink on the point," or, as McHugh notes, a condom. Mark tells us that this "buntingcap" is something used by "many burgesses by us, greats and grosses."
A transition that sounds just like a commercial break follows. "When you're coaching through Lucalised, on the sulphur spa to visit, it's safer to hit than miss it, stop at his inn!" the commercial voice tells us. It's quite clearly an ad for HCE's pub, where, we learn, we can doze in warmth and enjoy food and drink of questionable quality: "Cried unions to chip, saltpetre to strew, gallpitch to drink, stonebread to break but it's bully to gulp good blueberry pudding."
Following the interruption, the scene resumes back in the "sleepingchambers" of HCE and ALP. In a sense, we're slowly zeroing in on that room, moving from a wide shot of the entire house to a closer shot of the parents' bedroom. As we view the entire house, we see all of the household. The "court" is in "half morning," both indicating the "relaxed" time of half-mourning and, more pertinently, the halfway point between the evening and the daybreak. "Soakersoon" (HCE's assistant) is there, as is Kate ("Katya"), who is undressing ("shakenin dowan her droghedars"). The twelve patrons/jurors -- "the "twelve chief barons" -- stand with their arms folded to make sure everything's at peace before they return to their "runameat farums." The 28 young girls are tending to their hair and lamenting their "sadly ringless hands." ALP, the "first mutherer," kneels, while the twins sleep. HCE secretly has a blade drawn (creating a parallel between the plotting Lady Macbeth/Macbeth and ALP/HCE). Finally, Isabel is doing obeisance to HCE, "first furtherer with drawn brand." With this roll call complete, the court comes into "full morning." Perhaps this is a stage direction, after all, for the spotlight falls back upon HCE and ALP as Mark says, "Herein see ye fail not!"
It appears that HCE and ALP are once again trying to have marital relations, as Mark's focus now turns upon a certain "stark pointing pole," which he says he sees "before my misfortune." We learn the distances from this pole to "the dunleary obelisk," "the general's postoffice," "the Wellington memorial," and "Sara's bridge." Maybe since the pole belongs to the universal father, HCE, it's meant to be viewed as the center of the universe. Our narrator tells us that he leers at the scene because he wants to "see a buntingcap of so a pink on the point," or, as McHugh notes, a condom. Mark tells us that this "buntingcap" is something used by "many burgesses by us, greats and grosses."
Thursday, September 24, 2015
"a second position of discordance"
(563.1-565.5) The other twin, who sleeps on the "codliverside," is Jerry Jehu (Shem). He's the bad one -- the "sobrat" -- who has a "book of craven images," has been crying in his sleep, and has wet the bed ("pipettishly bespilled himself from his foundingpen as illspent from inkinghorn"). Together, the twins are "two very blizky little portereens after their breadscrums, Jerkff and Eatsup." Matthew has a warm spot in his heart for these "folly innocents," though. In concluding his description, he offers them his "copperwise blessing." He reminds us to accept God's plan, saying, "Weeping shouldst not thou be when man falls but that divine scheming ever adoring be." After thanking "kerryjevin" for "these nice presents," he bids adieu and says, "Still tosorrow!"
The next to speak is Mark, who offers "a second position of discordance" from the "rereway" (Matthew gave the "[f]irst position of harmony" from the "[s]ide point of view.") Mark looks from behind into the room where ALP and HCE have gone to check on the sobbing Jerry. From his perspective, "the male entail partially eclipses the femecovert." His description of the scene accordingly begins with HCE's ass, which here becomes another form of Phoenix Park. A "straight road down the centre . . . bisexes the park which is said to be the largest of his kind in the world." On one side is the "vinesregent's lodge," while on "the other supreme piece of cheeks" is the "chief sacristary's residence." Trees (hairs) and stones (pimples) add to the landscape. The overall effect of the sight is to give "wankyrious thoughts to the head," Mark says.
The next to speak is Mark, who offers "a second position of discordance" from the "rereway" (Matthew gave the "[f]irst position of harmony" from the "[s]ide point of view.") Mark looks from behind into the room where ALP and HCE have gone to check on the sobbing Jerry. From his perspective, "the male entail partially eclipses the femecovert." His description of the scene accordingly begins with HCE's ass, which here becomes another form of Phoenix Park. A "straight road down the centre . . . bisexes the park which is said to be the largest of his kind in the world." On one side is the "vinesregent's lodge," while on "the other supreme piece of cheeks" is the "chief sacristary's residence." Trees (hairs) and stones (pimples) add to the landscape. The overall effect of the sight is to give "wankyrious thoughts to the head," Mark says.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
"since we are talking amnessly of brukasloop crazedledaze"
(561.1-562.36) Matthew begins to introduce the Porter children in today's reading There are "two rooms on the upstairs, at forklank and at knifekanter" (as McHugh notes, the forkroom is on the left, and the kniferoom is on the right). "Whom in the wood are they for?" Matt posits. "Why, for little Porter babes, to be saved!" Buttercup (Isabel) sleeps in room number one. Of her name, Matthew says that "you will hear it passim in all the noveletta." The usual fawning description of Isabel follows. Notably, she's treated here as very young. She is "dadad's lottiest daughterperal," and Matthew warns his listeners not to go near her room: "Approach not for ghost sake! It is dormition!" She is "never alone," for she has a pet, "Biddles," which she can talk to and play with. McHugh notes numerous allusions to the Virgin Mary in the description of Buttercup, and she is set above "all the other common marygales that romp round brigidschool," including "charming Carry Whambers or saucy Susy Maucepan of Merry Anna Patchbox or silly Polly Flinders."
The twin brothers -- the "twobirds" -- "doez in sleeproom number twobis." They're close, so close that they "seem to be so tightly tattached as two maggots to touch other." Matthew concludes today's passage with a brief description of the brother on the "heartsleeveside" of the bed, Frank Kevin (Shaun). "Do not you waken him!" Matthew warns. He looks like "the blissed angel" while he sleeps, and Matthew says that some day he will "quit our ingletears" and go "to Amorica to quest a cashy job" (hinted at in Shaun's leaving at the end of chapter two of this Book). He's been featured before in the Wake, Matthew believes, and he will eventually replace HCE: "I guess to have seen somekid like him in the story book, guess I met somewhere somelam to whom he will be becoming liker." Matthew begs forgiveness for this brief diversion before moving on in tomorrow's reading.
The twin brothers -- the "twobirds" -- "doez in sleeproom number twobis." They're close, so close that they "seem to be so tightly tattached as two maggots to touch other." Matthew concludes today's passage with a brief description of the brother on the "heartsleeveside" of the bed, Frank Kevin (Shaun). "Do not you waken him!" Matthew warns. He looks like "the blissed angel" while he sleeps, and Matthew says that some day he will "quit our ingletears" and go "to Amorica to quest a cashy job" (hinted at in Shaun's leaving at the end of chapter two of this Book). He's been featured before in the Wake, Matthew believes, and he will eventually replace HCE: "I guess to have seen somekid like him in the story book, guess I met somewhere somelam to whom he will be becoming liker." Matthew begs forgiveness for this brief diversion before moving on in tomorrow's reading.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
"Check action."
(559.17-560.36) The play (or is it a film?) picks up the pace in today's reading. We see HCE "with nightcap" in the forefront and ALP "with curlpins" behind. The proceedings are treated as a kind of chess game featuring "[c]heck action" and pieces -- such as queens, knights, and pawns -- woven into the language. (I know next to nothing about chess, so whatever McHugh doesn't point out about it is lost on me.) HCE, who is of "gross build," exhibits rage after hearing the cry in yesterday's reading, while ALP, who is "fithery wight," exhibits fear.
Another cry is heard (this time, the stage direction "Callboy" indicates that one of the boys may be crying). This prompts ALP to dash out of bed, while HCE plods behind "after to queen's lead." The couple moves through the hall and up the stairs toward the children. The narrator -- who, as Campbell and Robinson note, seems to be Matthew (the word "Matt" near the beginning of today's passage indicates he's speaking) -- notes that HCE -- the "old humburgh" --"looks a thing incomplete," perhaps because he's quite drowsy. He can still pour "a fine head of porter," though. Matthew compliments the home (an "ideal residence for realtar").
In the last paragraph of today's reading, the couple becomes "The Porters," a name deriving from Earwicker's occupation. "The Porters, so to speak, after their shadowstealers in the newsbaggers, are very nice people, are they not?" asks Matthew, before answering his own question in the affirmative. Mr. Porter "is an excellent forefather," and Mrs. Porter "is a most kindhearted messmother." Matthew adds, "A so untied family pateramater is not more existing on papel or off of it." They're perfectly matched ("As keymaster fits the lock it weds"), and they "care for nothing except everything that is allporterous."
Another cry is heard (this time, the stage direction "Callboy" indicates that one of the boys may be crying). This prompts ALP to dash out of bed, while HCE plods behind "after to queen's lead." The couple moves through the hall and up the stairs toward the children. The narrator -- who, as Campbell and Robinson note, seems to be Matthew (the word "Matt" near the beginning of today's passage indicates he's speaking) -- notes that HCE -- the "old humburgh" --"looks a thing incomplete," perhaps because he's quite drowsy. He can still pour "a fine head of porter," though. Matthew compliments the home (an "ideal residence for realtar").
In the last paragraph of today's reading, the couple becomes "The Porters," a name deriving from Earwicker's occupation. "The Porters, so to speak, after their shadowstealers in the newsbaggers, are very nice people, are they not?" asks Matthew, before answering his own question in the affirmative. Mr. Porter "is an excellent forefather," and Mrs. Porter "is a most kindhearted messmother." Matthew adds, "A so untied family pateramater is not more existing on papel or off of it." They're perfectly matched ("As keymaster fits the lock it weds"), and they "care for nothing except everything that is allporterous."
Monday, September 21, 2015
"I fail to say. I dearsee you too."
(557.13-559.16) HCE makes it from the pub floor to his bed during today's reading, but first the narrator once again recalls HCE's trial, which is perhaps reenacted "each and every juridical sessions night." The jury -- "goodmen twelve and true" -- found HCE guilty "of their and those imputations of fornicolopulation with two of his albowcrural correlations." HCE's crime is retraced: "he was said to have enjoyed by anticipation when schooling them in amown, mid grass, she sat." Asserting that he was under "heat pressure" at the time, HCE asked the court for "grand toleration." He made his case, and prayed to the court that "of his fault you would make obliteration." But the court held that "there can be no right extinuation for contravention of common and statute legislation for which the fit remedy resides, for Mr Sully, in corporal amputation." HCE got a three-month sentence.
Meanwhile, Isabel and the 28 girls -- the "nine with twenty Leixlip yearlings, darters all" -- reveled in Shaun's company. They were "weeping like fun" as he left (a departure we saw in the second chapter of Book III), "for they were never happier, huhu, than when they were miserable, haha."
With these two diversions complete, we find HCE ("Albatrus Nyanzer") in bed with ALP ("Victa Nyanza"). HCE's "mace of might" is "mortified" (McHugh suggests that "mace" is HCE's penis), and ALP has hung her nightgown ("her beautifell") on a nail in the bedroom. The narrator hints that they may be about to engage in intercourse before a cry in another part of the house interrupts them. "Where are we at all?" a voice asks. "and whenabouts in the name of space?" This echoes the opening lines of the chapter, as seen in yesterday's reading. Another voice further notes this early morning sense of confusion. "I don't understand," it says, perhaps giving expression to the reader's thoughts. "I fail to say. I dearsee you too." (You can straighten these phrases out to "I fail to see. I daresay you too." Of course, the way Joyce has it emphasizes the confusion present in the scene.)
The final paragraph of the chapter provides stage directions describing the modestly furnished bedroom of HCE and ALP. Among the noteworthy items found in the room is a picture above the mantel portraying "Michael, lance, slaying Satan, dragon with smoke" (this, of course, calls back to the Mick/Shaun-Nick/Shem dichotomy). Tomorrow, we will see how this scene begins to play out.
Meanwhile, Isabel and the 28 girls -- the "nine with twenty Leixlip yearlings, darters all" -- reveled in Shaun's company. They were "weeping like fun" as he left (a departure we saw in the second chapter of Book III), "for they were never happier, huhu, than when they were miserable, haha."
With these two diversions complete, we find HCE ("Albatrus Nyanzer") in bed with ALP ("Victa Nyanza"). HCE's "mace of might" is "mortified" (McHugh suggests that "mace" is HCE's penis), and ALP has hung her nightgown ("her beautifell") on a nail in the bedroom. The narrator hints that they may be about to engage in intercourse before a cry in another part of the house interrupts them. "Where are we at all?" a voice asks. "and whenabouts in the name of space?" This echoes the opening lines of the chapter, as seen in yesterday's reading. Another voice further notes this early morning sense of confusion. "I don't understand," it says, perhaps giving expression to the reader's thoughts. "I fail to say. I dearsee you too." (You can straighten these phrases out to "I fail to see. I daresay you too." Of course, the way Joyce has it emphasizes the confusion present in the scene.)
The final paragraph of the chapter provides stage directions describing the modestly furnished bedroom of HCE and ALP. Among the noteworthy items found in the room is a picture above the mantel portraying "Michael, lance, slaying Satan, dragon with smoke" (this, of course, calls back to the Mick/Shaun-Nick/Shem dichotomy). Tomorrow, we will see how this scene begins to play out.
Sunday, September 20, 2015
"Let sleepth."
(555.1-557.12) The fourth and final chapter of Book III of Finnegans Wake begins with a sense of drowsy confusion. "What was thaas?" a voice asks. "Fog was whaas? Too mult sleepth. Let sleepth." This is a bit of a misleading introduction to a chapter that looks to be fairly straightforward and poetic (at least two pages in).
It almost instantly becomes clear, though, that we are once again in HCE's home. We see "the sycomores, all four of them" -- the four old men -- watching over what is presumably HCE's bed. (The four old men are here twice identified as "esker, newcsle, saggard, crumlin," which, McHugh notes, were the four royal manors of Dublin formed by Henry II from the lands of Viking kings.) The four old men (who the secondary sources suggest are the four bedposts of HCE's bed) hear something from the room of the twins, Kevin Mary (Shaun, the "nicechild") and Jerry Godolphing (Shem, the "badbrat"). Meanwile, Isabel, "the only girl they loved," lay sleeping "in her april cot," dreaming of lives as a nun, saint, and widow who will live the Viconian cycle: "win me, woo me, wed me, ah weary me!"
Outside, along the "grassgross bumpinstrass" that happens to pass the pub, Wachtman Havelook walks his nightly rounds, which involves peeping ("seequeerscenes"). With a bottle of liquor in his pocket, he is "sequestering for lovers' lost propertied offices" the items left behind along the road by the revelers who have returned home after this "allpurgers' night."
Back inside the homestead, the housekeeper, Kate, is woken from her sleep by a noise that sounds like a knock on the door downstairs. She thinks it might be the urinating girls from the park ("Schweeps's mingerals"), Shaun the Postman with a telegram for HCE, or the four old men ("the four hoarsmen on their apolkaloops, Norreys, Soothbys, Yates and Welks"). After walking down the stairs and raising the candle, she sees HCE naked on the floor, after having passed out drunk and "slumped to the throne" at the end of Book II, Chapter 3. With the "whites of his pious eyebulbs," HCE swears Kate to silence.
It almost instantly becomes clear, though, that we are once again in HCE's home. We see "the sycomores, all four of them" -- the four old men -- watching over what is presumably HCE's bed. (The four old men are here twice identified as "esker, newcsle, saggard, crumlin," which, McHugh notes, were the four royal manors of Dublin formed by Henry II from the lands of Viking kings.) The four old men (who the secondary sources suggest are the four bedposts of HCE's bed) hear something from the room of the twins, Kevin Mary (Shaun, the "nicechild") and Jerry Godolphing (Shem, the "badbrat"). Meanwile, Isabel, "the only girl they loved," lay sleeping "in her april cot," dreaming of lives as a nun, saint, and widow who will live the Viconian cycle: "win me, woo me, wed me, ah weary me!"
Outside, along the "grassgross bumpinstrass" that happens to pass the pub, Wachtman Havelook walks his nightly rounds, which involves peeping ("seequeerscenes"). With a bottle of liquor in his pocket, he is "sequestering for lovers' lost propertied offices" the items left behind along the road by the revelers who have returned home after this "allpurgers' night."
Back inside the homestead, the housekeeper, Kate, is woken from her sleep by a noise that sounds like a knock on the door downstairs. She thinks it might be the urinating girls from the park ("Schweeps's mingerals"), Shaun the Postman with a telegram for HCE, or the four old men ("the four hoarsmen on their apolkaloops, Norreys, Soothbys, Yates and Welks"). After walking down the stairs and raising the candle, she sees HCE naked on the floor, after having passed out drunk and "slumped to the throne" at the end of Book II, Chapter 3. With the "whites of his pious eyebulbs," HCE swears Kate to silence.
Saturday, September 19, 2015
"her chastener ever"
(552.35-554.10) And so we've reached the end of this long (81-page) chapter, which began with Shaun, newly departed from Isabel and her 28 classmates, slumped on a hill, and ends with the voice of HCE proclaiming his triumphs through Shaun to the four old men, who became four young chaps along the way.
The final paragraph of HCE's address begins with blessings falling down on those assembled in St. Patrick's cathedral like wintry percipitation ("wholehail, snaeffell, dreardrizzle or sleetshowers of blessing"). After his architectural deeds, HCE set about educating ALP, spreading before her the seven wonders of the world, both in their classical form (for example, "chopes pyramidous and mousselimes and beaconphires," which, McHugh notes, stand for Cheops' Pyramid, the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, and the Lighthouse at Alexandria) and in the form of statues of great figures from Irish and English history (for example, "the Pardonell of Maynooth" for Parnell and "Nielsen, rare admirable" for Admiral Nelson).
HCE planted "a quickset vineyard" for his "own hot lisbing lass," which is another form of Phoenix Park, "a Queen's garden of her phoenix." He also brewed beer for his pub. The final benefit he bestowed upon ALP and Dublin involved transportation. He laid down paved roads, upon which a variety of horses trod, including "claudesdales withe arabinstreeds," "madridden mustangs," and "buckarestive bronchos." Rickshaws, taxis, and sedans also transported the people along these roads, and smaller horses seemed to dance along the roads for ALP's pleasure. HCE concludes that "she lalaughed in her diddydid domino to the switcheries of the whip." "Down with them!" ALP would shout. "Kick! Playup!"
The third chapter of Book III of the Wake concludes with a line in which HCE's voice echoes ALP's laughter and acknowledges the four young chaps/old men who have been interrogating Shaun through its course: "Mattahah! Marahah! Luahah! Joahanahanahana!" These final laughs conceal a deeper emotion, though, for as McHugh notes, "hana" is Czech for "shame."
The final paragraph of HCE's address begins with blessings falling down on those assembled in St. Patrick's cathedral like wintry percipitation ("wholehail, snaeffell, dreardrizzle or sleetshowers of blessing"). After his architectural deeds, HCE set about educating ALP, spreading before her the seven wonders of the world, both in their classical form (for example, "chopes pyramidous and mousselimes and beaconphires," which, McHugh notes, stand for Cheops' Pyramid, the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, and the Lighthouse at Alexandria) and in the form of statues of great figures from Irish and English history (for example, "the Pardonell of Maynooth" for Parnell and "Nielsen, rare admirable" for Admiral Nelson).
HCE planted "a quickset vineyard" for his "own hot lisbing lass," which is another form of Phoenix Park, "a Queen's garden of her phoenix." He also brewed beer for his pub. The final benefit he bestowed upon ALP and Dublin involved transportation. He laid down paved roads, upon which a variety of horses trod, including "claudesdales withe arabinstreeds," "madridden mustangs," and "buckarestive bronchos." Rickshaws, taxis, and sedans also transported the people along these roads, and smaller horses seemed to dance along the roads for ALP's pleasure. HCE concludes that "she lalaughed in her diddydid domino to the switcheries of the whip." "Down with them!" ALP would shout. "Kick! Playup!"
The third chapter of Book III of the Wake concludes with a line in which HCE's voice echoes ALP's laughter and acknowledges the four young chaps/old men who have been interrogating Shaun through its course: "Mattahah! Marahah! Luahah! Joahanahanahana!" These final laughs conceal a deeper emotion, though, for as McHugh notes, "hana" is Czech for "shame."
Friday, September 18, 2015
"hereround is't holied!"
(550.8-552.34) I tackled a slightly longer passage (well, three-quarters of a page extra) for today's reading -- the penultimate reading of this third chapter in the third Book of the Wake -- in order to cover the full penultimate paragraph of HCE's address (through Shaun) to the four young chaps. It's a dense one and took a bit longer than I had anticipated, but taking the extra time today (and shortening length of tomorrow's reading) was worth the benefit of what I guess I could call "narrative coherency."
Anyway, after ALP became a jewel in the eyes of the patrons of HCE's pub, HCE fed her "spiceries for her garbage breath." These include spices, of course, but also nuts, vegetables, meats, sweets, and coffee. HCE says that it was all "food convenient herfor, to pass them into earth" (maybe good food for the digestive system?). He also gave her powder and oils for her skin, as well as a variety of grooming devices (which seem geared toward her genital areas, including "clubmoss and wolvesfoot for her more moister wards"). Within their home hung hand-painted portraits of Dublin (and world) elite, particularly the city's "lewd mayers and our lairdie meiresses." ALP would show off her legs dancing the "bloodanoobs" (the Blue Danube) while HCE, "the lumpty thumpty of our interloopings" (remember, he's Humpty Dumpty), "fell clocksure off my ballast." As she stood in her underwear before her window, the men outside "admired her in camises." This thought prompts HCE to speculate that he could've been a great designer of women's lingerie, noting that "were I our pantocreator would theirs be tights for the gods."
But HCE's good intentions weren't entirely focused upon ALP. He explains that "I said to the shiftless prostitute, let me be our fodder; and to rodies and prater brothers; Chau, Camerade!" He brought about improvements to the city so that "all be made alive." He made an outhouse ("an erdcloset with showne ejector") for ALP, universities for the students, terminals for the travelers, and Catholic and Protestant cathedrals ("twinminsters, the pro and the con") for the faithful. He also "pushed," or inspired, a number of architects and city planners that he goes on to name.
Finally (or, "thirdly"), he "did reform and restore for my smuggy piggiesknees, my sweet coolocked, my auburn coyquailing one" St. Patrick's Cathedral ("her paddyplace on the crossknoll with massgo bell"). A joyful noise rang inside this central church, and all proclaimed, "May all have mossyhonours!" (or, may the lord have mercy on us). To this, the four young chaps each shout, "Hoke!" (as McHugh notes, "hail!" in German).
Anyway, after ALP became a jewel in the eyes of the patrons of HCE's pub, HCE fed her "spiceries for her garbage breath." These include spices, of course, but also nuts, vegetables, meats, sweets, and coffee. HCE says that it was all "food convenient herfor, to pass them into earth" (maybe good food for the digestive system?). He also gave her powder and oils for her skin, as well as a variety of grooming devices (which seem geared toward her genital areas, including "clubmoss and wolvesfoot for her more moister wards"). Within their home hung hand-painted portraits of Dublin (and world) elite, particularly the city's "lewd mayers and our lairdie meiresses." ALP would show off her legs dancing the "bloodanoobs" (the Blue Danube) while HCE, "the lumpty thumpty of our interloopings" (remember, he's Humpty Dumpty), "fell clocksure off my ballast." As she stood in her underwear before her window, the men outside "admired her in camises." This thought prompts HCE to speculate that he could've been a great designer of women's lingerie, noting that "were I our pantocreator would theirs be tights for the gods."
But HCE's good intentions weren't entirely focused upon ALP. He explains that "I said to the shiftless prostitute, let me be our fodder; and to rodies and prater brothers; Chau, Camerade!" He brought about improvements to the city so that "all be made alive." He made an outhouse ("an erdcloset with showne ejector") for ALP, universities for the students, terminals for the travelers, and Catholic and Protestant cathedrals ("twinminsters, the pro and the con") for the faithful. He also "pushed," or inspired, a number of architects and city planners that he goes on to name.
Finally (or, "thirdly"), he "did reform and restore for my smuggy piggiesknees, my sweet coolocked, my auburn coyquailing one" St. Patrick's Cathedral ("her paddyplace on the crossknoll with massgo bell"). A joyful noise rang inside this central church, and all proclaimed, "May all have mossyhonours!" (or, may the lord have mercy on us). To this, the four young chaps each shout, "Hoke!" (as McHugh notes, "hail!" in German).
Thursday, September 17, 2015
"peace, perfect peace"
(548.19-550.7) Today, HCE continues the narrative of his life with ALP. Following their wedding, he outfitted her with fine, name-brand clothing, jewelry, and undergarments (e.g., "trancepearances such as women cattle bare and peltries piled, the peak of Pim's and Slyne's and Sparrow's, loomends day lumineused luxories on looks" and a necklace of "shells of moyles marine to swing their saysangs in her silents"). Candles were lit to light the streets, and peace and plenty came to the country: "for days there was no night for nights were days and our folk had rest from Blackheathen and the pagans from the prince of pacis: what was trembling sod quaked no more, what were frozen loins were stirred and lived." Even time itself appeared to cease its gloomy march, as the days and months lost their negativity: "gone the septuor, dark deadly dismal doleful desolate dreadful desperate, no more the tolvmaans, bloody gloomy hideous fearful furious alarming terrible mournful sorrowful frightful appaling." Instead, there was "peace, perfect peace."
HCE bottled up the sea water and served it in his pub. He settled in Dublin, he says, with "the little crither of my hearth." He fed her generously with both knowledge and food, and she drew the praise of HCE's patrons. The passage ends with an interruption from the four young chaps, who begrudgingly give HCE some credit as one notes that the "S.S. Paudraic's in the harbour," perhaps indicating that it's nearly time for our ship to sail (which makes sense, since there's less than five pages left in this chapter).
HCE bottled up the sea water and served it in his pub. He settled in Dublin, he says, with "the little crither of my hearth." He fed her generously with both knowledge and food, and she drew the praise of HCE's patrons. The passage ends with an interruption from the four young chaps, who begrudgingly give HCE some credit as one notes that the "S.S. Paudraic's in the harbour," perhaps indicating that it's nearly time for our ship to sail (which makes sense, since there's less than five pages left in this chapter).
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
"malestream in shegulf"
(546.29-548.19) In today's reading, HCE makes an abrupt change in subject matter. He shifts from himself to his wife, here referred to by what might be termed her "maiden" name, Fulvia Fluvia. He trusts in her honor. If she had turned her back on her ways and traveled uphill in search of lovers, or if she had been seduced by the words of "prolling bywaymen," there would be reason to investigate her. But "it was vastly otherwise," HCE says. She "ever did ensue tillstead the things that pertained unto fairnesse." And even when she did not fawn on him, he "waged love on her: and spoiled her undines" (spoiled her undying-ly, or soiled her undies).
HCE then retraces how his relationship with ALP blossomed. He admits that he was firm with her and jealously guarded her from the world. He took her overland and settled in Dublin. There, he says, he "knew her fleshly when with all my bawdy did I her whorship, min bryllupswibe" (he both worshiped her body and, like a bawd, treated her whorishly). The two became one, "malestream in shegulf." He marked her as his own forever, and married her (with "Impress of Asias" and "Queen Columbia" as her bridesmaids). He gave her a name "to carry till her grave": "my durdin dearly, Appia Lippia Pluviabilla." At the conclusion of today's reading (which ends in mid-paragraph, since the one I'm in the midst of spans almost three full pages), he adds, "I did umgyrdle her about, my vermincelly vinagerette, with all loving kindness as far as in man's might it lay and enfranchised her to liberties of fringes."
HCE then retraces how his relationship with ALP blossomed. He admits that he was firm with her and jealously guarded her from the world. He took her overland and settled in Dublin. There, he says, he "knew her fleshly when with all my bawdy did I her whorship, min bryllupswibe" (he both worshiped her body and, like a bawd, treated her whorishly). The two became one, "malestream in shegulf." He marked her as his own forever, and married her (with "Impress of Asias" and "Queen Columbia" as her bridesmaids). He gave her a name "to carry till her grave": "my durdin dearly, Appia Lippia Pluviabilla." At the conclusion of today's reading (which ends in mid-paragraph, since the one I'm in the midst of spans almost three full pages), he adds, "I did umgyrdle her about, my vermincelly vinagerette, with all loving kindness as far as in man's might it lay and enfranchised her to liberties of fringes."
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
"as respectable as respectable can respectably be"
(544.27-546.28) Today's passage picks up with HCE's descriptions of those who lived in his Dublin, such as the "harmless imbecile supposingly weakminded" and the "lieabed sons [who] go out with sisters immediately after dark." Joyce identifies the source material for his parody when he has HCE state, "[C]alories exclusively from Rowntrees and dumplings." The land upon which these "villeins" reside is given by HCE to "the men of Tolbris, a city of Tolbris." The secondary sources note that this deed language parodies the language used by Henry II (here, HCE signs the deed as "Enwreak us wrecks") to give Dublin to the citizens of Bristol. (HCE also bequeaths his vouchers, knife, and snuff box.)
Surveying his life, HCE says that he has "looked upon my pumpadears in their easancies" (the two young women) and that his "drummers have tattled tall tales of me in the land" (the drummers are the three soldiers appearing once again). He was a magnanimous and steady lawgiver who revolutionized the land with his "eructions" (both eruptions and erections). The king thanked him for his work and gave him a nickname that "is second fiddler to nomen." (This, of course, goes way back to the second chapter of the Wake, in which the king gives HCE the name "Earwicker.") HCE also earned a coat of arms that features "two young frisch" that are "devioled of their habiliments" (emblematic of the two young women) and "a terce of lanciers" (emblematic of the three soldiers) and bears the motto "Hery Crass Evohodie" (translated by McHugh to "Yesterday tomorrow today"). HCE concludes this portion of his address by saying that the elders wonder about HCE's origins, including whether he was the product of forced group marriage, or carried from the sky by a swarm of locusts, but HCE suggests that he might be all these things simultaneously.
Surveying his life, HCE says that he has "looked upon my pumpadears in their easancies" (the two young women) and that his "drummers have tattled tall tales of me in the land" (the drummers are the three soldiers appearing once again). He was a magnanimous and steady lawgiver who revolutionized the land with his "eructions" (both eruptions and erections). The king thanked him for his work and gave him a nickname that "is second fiddler to nomen." (This, of course, goes way back to the second chapter of the Wake, in which the king gives HCE the name "Earwicker.") HCE also earned a coat of arms that features "two young frisch" that are "devioled of their habiliments" (emblematic of the two young women) and "a terce of lanciers" (emblematic of the three soldiers) and bears the motto "Hery Crass Evohodie" (translated by McHugh to "Yesterday tomorrow today"). HCE concludes this portion of his address by saying that the elders wonder about HCE's origins, including whether he was the product of forced group marriage, or carried from the sky by a swarm of locusts, but HCE suggests that he might be all these things simultaneously.
Monday, September 14, 2015
"haunted, condemned and execrated, of dubious respectability"
(542.12-544.27) HCE continues to list his accomplishments in today's reading, but, curiously enough, as the listing goes on, a few dents appear in his recently-donned armor. His language also becomes more obscure, or at least susceptible to double-meaning. For instance, he says that "in Forum Foster I demonsthrenated my folksfiendship, enmy pupuls felt my burk was no worse than their brite." Was he a generous friend or an avenging enemy to the people of Dublin? Still, it's clear that he delivered food to the people ("I gave bax of biscums to the jacobeaters and pottage bakes to the esausted") and succor to the weary ("In the humanity of my heart I sent out heyweywomen to refresh the ballwearied"). His "great great greatest of these charities" was improving the moral life of the people: he "devaluerised the base fellows for the curtailment of their lower man." He replicated his success abroad ("I ran up a score and four of mes while the Yanks were huckling the Empire" -- McHugh notes that this refers to the saying that there are 24 places named Dublin in the U.S.), and he has received "omominous letters and widely-signed petitions full of pieces of pottery about my monumentalness as a thingabolls."
His address to the four young chaps takes a marked turn when he begins to describe the population that he has uplifted (in what Tindall, as well as Campbell and Robinson, refers to as tenancy ads). This takes the form of an extended parody of the third edition of Seebohm Rowntree's Poverty: A Study of Town Life (as noted by McHugh in his Annotations and discussed at some length by Atherton in his The Books at the Wake). Rowntree detailed the life of the impoverished in England during Joyce's youth, and Joyce in turn, details the eccentricities of the "bonders and foeburghers, helots and zelots, strutting oges and swaggering macks, the darsy jeamses, the drury joneses, redmaids and bleucotts, . . . all who have received tickets" in the Wake. This passage, which is fairly entertaining, is straightforward and carries into tomorrow's reading. It generally indicates that life in Dublin isn't as great as HCE has suggested it is. There's a "house lost in dirt and blocked with refuse, getting on like Roe's distillery on fire," a "floor dangerous for unaccompanied old clergymen," and a place which has "nearest watertap two hundred yards' run away," among other disadvantages, alternately amusing and tragic.
His address to the four young chaps takes a marked turn when he begins to describe the population that he has uplifted (in what Tindall, as well as Campbell and Robinson, refers to as tenancy ads). This takes the form of an extended parody of the third edition of Seebohm Rowntree's Poverty: A Study of Town Life (as noted by McHugh in his Annotations and discussed at some length by Atherton in his The Books at the Wake). Rowntree detailed the life of the impoverished in England during Joyce's youth, and Joyce in turn, details the eccentricities of the "bonders and foeburghers, helots and zelots, strutting oges and swaggering macks, the darsy jeamses, the drury joneses, redmaids and bleucotts, . . . all who have received tickets" in the Wake. This passage, which is fairly entertaining, is straightforward and carries into tomorrow's reading. It generally indicates that life in Dublin isn't as great as HCE has suggested it is. There's a "house lost in dirt and blocked with refuse, getting on like Roe's distillery on fire," a "floor dangerous for unaccompanied old clergymen," and a place which has "nearest watertap two hundred yards' run away," among other disadvantages, alternately amusing and tragic.
Sunday, September 13, 2015
"New highs for all!"
(540.13-542.12) "Things are not as they were," says HCE at the beginning of today's reading, picking up where he left off in yesterday's reading in describing the changes to Dublin since his arrival. "Let me briefly survey," he says, but it's not entirely 100 percent accurate to call his survey a brief one, since it looks like it will last for a couple of days' worth of readings for me.
HCE covers a number of subject areas related to the city which rests, as he says, "[o]n me, your sleeping giant." The town is virtually free from crime, with "[b]laublaze devilbobs gone," "hairtrigger nicks . . . quite out of time," and "[t]huggeries . . . reere as glovars' metins." The ladies, HCE says, can go out freely in the middle of day and later play hide-and-seek in the park. Architecturally, the "spearing spires" of his "wellworth building" soar amid the town's seven hills. A thriving economy has developed, and HCE has met all invaders "pepst to papst." For the "sleeking beauties" he has "spinned their nightinveils," and dulcet sounds arise from the landscape. Potatoes and berries are plentiful, and he collects clean rainwater in his "bathtub of roundwood" and conveys it "with cheers and cables, roaring mighty shouts, through my longertubes of elm." At the end of today's passage, HCE notes that he has provided tramcars for the suburbanites and tea for the recovering alcoholics.
HCE covers a number of subject areas related to the city which rests, as he says, "[o]n me, your sleeping giant." The town is virtually free from crime, with "[b]laublaze devilbobs gone," "hairtrigger nicks . . . quite out of time," and "[t]huggeries . . . reere as glovars' metins." The ladies, HCE says, can go out freely in the middle of day and later play hide-and-seek in the park. Architecturally, the "spearing spires" of his "wellworth building" soar amid the town's seven hills. A thriving economy has developed, and HCE has met all invaders "pepst to papst." For the "sleeking beauties" he has "spinned their nightinveils," and dulcet sounds arise from the landscape. Potatoes and berries are plentiful, and he collects clean rainwater in his "bathtub of roundwood" and conveys it "with cheers and cables, roaring mighty shouts, through my longertubes of elm." At the end of today's passage, HCE notes that he has provided tramcars for the suburbanites and tea for the recovering alcoholics.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
"Ous of their freiung pfann into myne foyer."
(538.18-540.12) As HCE continues to address the four young chaps through Shaun, he starts to sound less defensive and begins to engage in some self-promotion. Momentarily returning to the allegations that he addressed yesterday, he laughs them off: "My herrings! The surdity of it! Amean to say. Her bare idears, it is choochoo chucklesome. Absurd bargain, mum, will call." As for the two young women in the park, he says that even if he were their "covin guardient," he wouldn't know what to do with them. He suggests that the three soldiers who reported him (here each is called "Deucollion" in turn, making them rascally testicles) were just out to get him and offered trumped up charges. "What a shrubbery trick to play!" he says.
HCE is willing to swear to his "unclothed virtue" by the Wellington Monument in Phoenix Park ("the longstone erectheion of our allfirst manhere"). He's a cultured man, he says, always thinking "in a wordworth's of that primed favourite continental poet, Daunty, Gouty and Shopkeeper, A.G." (Dante, Goethe, and Shakespeare). He says that he has "had my best master's lessons" and is "doing my dids bits and have made of my prudentials good." Admitting to some humility, he asks, "Have I said ogso how I abhor myself vastly (truth to tell) and do repent to my netherheart of suntry clothing?"
The "amusin part" of it all, HCE says, is how much better off Ireland is since he arrived "over the deep drowner Athacleeath to seek again Irrlanding, shamed in mind." He brought his "imperial standard" and established a residence, then -- ever the man of the people -- set up his pub for rough men and average women. The city was once a "hole of Serbonian bog," but now is a "city of magnificent distances." HCE ruled with a sword and staff under the patronage of popes ("Urban First"), emperors ("Champaign Chollyman"), and kings ("Hungry the Loaved and Hangry the Hathed"). Famine and epdemics -- "the two-toothed dragon worms with allsort serpents" -- have completely vanished, and "notorious naughty livers are found not on our rolls." After championing the country's natural beauty, HCE concludes this portion of his statement by saying, "Give heed!" The four young chaps each give heed in turn, urging listeners to visit the Dublin suburb of Drumcondra.
HCE is willing to swear to his "unclothed virtue" by the Wellington Monument in Phoenix Park ("the longstone erectheion of our allfirst manhere"). He's a cultured man, he says, always thinking "in a wordworth's of that primed favourite continental poet, Daunty, Gouty and Shopkeeper, A.G." (Dante, Goethe, and Shakespeare). He says that he has "had my best master's lessons" and is "doing my dids bits and have made of my prudentials good." Admitting to some humility, he asks, "Have I said ogso how I abhor myself vastly (truth to tell) and do repent to my netherheart of suntry clothing?"
The "amusin part" of it all, HCE says, is how much better off Ireland is since he arrived "over the deep drowner Athacleeath to seek again Irrlanding, shamed in mind." He brought his "imperial standard" and established a residence, then -- ever the man of the people -- set up his pub for rough men and average women. The city was once a "hole of Serbonian bog," but now is a "city of magnificent distances." HCE ruled with a sword and staff under the patronage of popes ("Urban First"), emperors ("Champaign Chollyman"), and kings ("Hungry the Loaved and Hangry the Hathed"). Famine and epdemics -- "the two-toothed dragon worms with allsort serpents" -- have completely vanished, and "notorious naughty livers are found not on our rolls." After championing the country's natural beauty, HCE concludes this portion of his statement by saying, "Give heed!" The four young chaps each give heed in turn, urging listeners to visit the Dublin suburb of Drumcondra.
Friday, September 11, 2015
"The elephant's house is his castle."
(536.28-538.17) While HCE says that "I have bared my whole past," he continues his defense in today's reading. He's willing to go to court to clear his name, and he has plans to be baptized and converted "into a selt" so that he can "westerneyes" England.
HCE devotes a fair amount of time to defending himself against a charge that I don't remember being brought yet. He says that he denies having partnered with his friend, Mr Billups, to purchase a slave, "Blanchette Brewster from Cherna Djamja, Blawland-via-Brigstow," or to sell a share in her. Immediately following this assertion, he turns back to Kate's recent statement, in which she spoke of HCE's interest in her. "Thou, Frick's Flame, Uden Sulfer, who strikest only on the marryd bokks, enquick me if so be I did cophetuise milady's maid!" he says. To do so would be ridiculous, he goes on, adding, "Such wear a frillick for my comic strip, Mons Meg's Monthly, comes out aich Fanagan's Weck, to bray at by clownsillies in Donkeybrook Fair." (I would like to read HCE's comic strip.)
The "tradefully unintristid" HCE almost seems to protest too much. "Inprobable!" he later continues. "I do not credit one word of it from such and suchess mistraversers. Just feathers! Nanenities!" To do the things he's been accused of would be like contracting a sexually transmitted disease, he says. He wouldn't do it for any price. "So hemp me Cash!" he concludes at the end of today's reading. "I meanit."
HCE devotes a fair amount of time to defending himself against a charge that I don't remember being brought yet. He says that he denies having partnered with his friend, Mr Billups, to purchase a slave, "Blanchette Brewster from Cherna Djamja, Blawland-via-Brigstow," or to sell a share in her. Immediately following this assertion, he turns back to Kate's recent statement, in which she spoke of HCE's interest in her. "Thou, Frick's Flame, Uden Sulfer, who strikest only on the marryd bokks, enquick me if so be I did cophetuise milady's maid!" he says. To do so would be ridiculous, he goes on, adding, "Such wear a frillick for my comic strip, Mons Meg's Monthly, comes out aich Fanagan's Weck, to bray at by clownsillies in Donkeybrook Fair." (I would like to read HCE's comic strip.)
The "tradefully unintristid" HCE almost seems to protest too much. "Inprobable!" he later continues. "I do not credit one word of it from such and suchess mistraversers. Just feathers! Nanenities!" To do the things he's been accused of would be like contracting a sexually transmitted disease, he says. He wouldn't do it for any price. "So hemp me Cash!" he concludes at the end of today's reading. "I meanit."
Thursday, September 10, 2015
"Flap, my Larrybird!"
(534.7-536.27) "Calm has entered," begins HCE in today's reading, indicating that the interruptions at the end of yesterday's passage have ceased (at least momentarily). He says that "there is luttrelly not one teaspoonspill of evidence at bottomlie to my babad, as you shall see." Not only is he certain of his innocence, but he has also retained a law firm (which has a reach over all four corners of the globe), "Misrs Norris, Southby, Yates and Weston, Inc," to warn against publication of libel regarding HCE.
The root of HCE's problems is none other than the "caca cad." "Strangler of soffiacated green parrots!" HCE calls him. "I protest it that he is, by my wipehalf." Sherlock is looking for the Cad, of whom HCE says, "Let me never see his waddphez again!" Before all this happened, HCE was in a lofty position and set to present the keys to the city to "Majuscules, His Magnus Maggerstick." But now, because of this "[f]irst liar in Londsend," HCE is reduced to "[l]owest basemeant in hystry!"
The four young chaps chime in briefly again (with one thinking that HCE's voice is that of "Whitehed," which, McHugh notes, is an alias of Finn MacCool). HCE's voice resumes, as "Old Whitehowth," who has "lived true thousand hells." Here, HCE seems to merge with Oscar Wilde ("poor O.W. in this profundust snobbing"). "I askt you, dear lady, to judge on my tree by our fruits," the voice says. "I gave you two smells, three eats. My freeandies, my celeberrimates: my happy bossoms, my allfalling fruits of my boom. Pity poor Haveth Childers Everywhere with Mudder!" In the next paragraph, the voice identifies O.W./Haveth Childers Everywhere as "Communicator, a former colonel." Another "disincarnated spirit," Sebastion, also seeks to "fernspreak shortly with messuages from my deadported," but HCE suggests that they "make an appunkment for a future date" to hear from him. Most of the remainder of the passage seems dedicated to reporting on the state of Wilde/HCE in the afterlife. He enjoys smoking and having "his glad stein of our zober beerbest in Oscarshal's winetavern," and HCE adds, "The boyce voyce is still flautish and his mounth still wears that soldier's scarlet though the flaxfloyeds are peppered with salsedine." HCE may tell his/Wilde's "second storey" one day, but for now, he says, it "looks like someone other bearing my burdens," something which he can't allow.
The root of HCE's problems is none other than the "caca cad." "Strangler of soffiacated green parrots!" HCE calls him. "I protest it that he is, by my wipehalf." Sherlock is looking for the Cad, of whom HCE says, "Let me never see his waddphez again!" Before all this happened, HCE was in a lofty position and set to present the keys to the city to "Majuscules, His Magnus Maggerstick." But now, because of this "[f]irst liar in Londsend," HCE is reduced to "[l]owest basemeant in hystry!"
The four young chaps chime in briefly again (with one thinking that HCE's voice is that of "Whitehed," which, McHugh notes, is an alias of Finn MacCool). HCE's voice resumes, as "Old Whitehowth," who has "lived true thousand hells." Here, HCE seems to merge with Oscar Wilde ("poor O.W. in this profundust snobbing"). "I askt you, dear lady, to judge on my tree by our fruits," the voice says. "I gave you two smells, three eats. My freeandies, my celeberrimates: my happy bossoms, my allfalling fruits of my boom. Pity poor Haveth Childers Everywhere with Mudder!" In the next paragraph, the voice identifies O.W./Haveth Childers Everywhere as "Communicator, a former colonel." Another "disincarnated spirit," Sebastion, also seeks to "fernspreak shortly with messuages from my deadported," but HCE suggests that they "make an appunkment for a future date" to hear from him. Most of the remainder of the passage seems dedicated to reporting on the state of Wilde/HCE in the afterlife. He enjoys smoking and having "his glad stein of our zober beerbest in Oscarshal's winetavern," and HCE adds, "The boyce voyce is still flautish and his mounth still wears that soldier's scarlet though the flaxfloyeds are peppered with salsedine." HCE may tell his/Wilde's "second storey" one day, but for now, he says, it "looks like someone other bearing my burdens," something which he can't allow.
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
"Here we are again!"
(532.6-534.6) The voice of HCE has returned (through his son, Shaun). His time away has not necessarily humbled him, for he claims that he's known throughout the world, wherever English is spoken, as a clean-living man. In fact, he says, "I think how our public at large appreciates it most highly from me that I am as cleanliving as could be and that my game was a fair average since I perpetually kept my ouija ouija wicket up."
The bulk of his statement in today's passage consists of a defense of his life. He "never was nor can afford to be guilty of crim crig con of malfeasance trespass against parson with the person of a youthful gigirl frifrif friend." To do so would be bad for business. He compliments ALP, "the ripest littlums wifukie around the globelettes globes" and praises her small feet. To corroborate his testimony, he offers proof from "our private chaplain of Lambeyth and Dolekey, bishop-regionary," who knows the couple well.
As HCE's initial words draw to a close, his monologue is interrupted or distorted by interference from a radio station. The broadcast gives prices for hogs, for instance, and ends with a typical sign-off: "Thnkyou! Thatll beall fortody. Cal it off. Godnotch, vrybioly. End a muddy crushmess! Abbreciades anew York gustoms. Kyow! Tak." The four young chaps close today's reading with a few offhand remarks, serving as a momentary interlude before HCE resumes his defense in tomorrow's reading.
The bulk of his statement in today's passage consists of a defense of his life. He "never was nor can afford to be guilty of crim crig con of malfeasance trespass against parson with the person of a youthful gigirl frifrif friend." To do so would be bad for business. He compliments ALP, "the ripest littlums wifukie around the globelettes globes" and praises her small feet. To corroborate his testimony, he offers proof from "our private chaplain of Lambeyth and Dolekey, bishop-regionary," who knows the couple well.
As HCE's initial words draw to a close, his monologue is interrupted or distorted by interference from a radio station. The broadcast gives prices for hogs, for instance, and ends with a typical sign-off: "Thnkyou! Thatll beall fortody. Cal it off. Godnotch, vrybioly. End a muddy crushmess! Abbreciades anew York gustoms. Kyow! Tak." The four young chaps close today's reading with a few offhand remarks, serving as a momentary interlude before HCE resumes his defense in tomorrow's reading.
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
"Fuddling fun for Fullacan's sake!"
(530.23-532.5) We only get a little bit of information from Sackerson, as channeled by Shaun. In two lines of verse (which, McHugh notes, roughly quote Ibsen in his native tongue), Sackerson tells us that HCE has flooded the world and that he will torpedo HCE's ark with pleasure. One of the four young chaps laments HCE's lechery: "With her shoes upon his shoulders, 'twas most trying to beholders when he upped their frullatullepleats with our warning." He goes on to call HCE a "disgrace to the homely protestant religion!" Another of the young chaps wonders, "And it's we's to pray for Bigmesser's conversions?" He calls Kate -- here, "Kitty the Beads" -- hoping for more information. "She's deep, that one," he notes.
Kate (speaking here through Shaun, of course) begins her entertaining testimony by calling for prayers for HCE, whose death she mourns: "Master's gunne he warrs the bedst." She then proceeds to describe her activities in the Earwicker household. These descriptions take on double meanings (of course, it's the Wake, after all): In one sense she describes the cooking she did for the family, but in another she describes the work she did to make HCE hot. For instance, she "messaged his dilltoyds sausepander mussels on the kisschen table." This could be her preparing mussels for cooking, or it could be her massaging HCE's muscles. Regardless, Kate says that he "sizzled there watching" her. In the third part of her testimony, she describes doing the can-can for HCE, "showing my jiggoty sleeves and all my new toulong touloosies." "Whisk!" says Kate, imitating (as McHugh notes) the sound of her dress lifting as she danced. "There's me shims and here's me hams and this is me juppettes, gause be the meter! Whisk! What's this? Whisk! And that?" In summing up, Kate calls her dancing "[f]uddling fun for Fullacan's sake!"
"All halt!" shouts one of the young chaps, upset with the way in which the examination has proceeded. "Sponsor programme and close down. That's enough, genral, of finicking about Finnegan and fiddling with his faddles." He calls for a final ballot to remove all doubt. This means that he wants HCE, the ultimate authority, to testify. "Search ye the Finn!" calls the young chap, ordering HCE to be produced for examination. "The sinder's under shriving sheet. Fa Fe Fi Fo Fum! Ho, croak, evildoer! Arise, sir ghostus!" Excitement permeates the air as we prepare to once again hear HCE's voice tomorrow.
Kate (speaking here through Shaun, of course) begins her entertaining testimony by calling for prayers for HCE, whose death she mourns: "Master's gunne he warrs the bedst." She then proceeds to describe her activities in the Earwicker household. These descriptions take on double meanings (of course, it's the Wake, after all): In one sense she describes the cooking she did for the family, but in another she describes the work she did to make HCE hot. For instance, she "messaged his dilltoyds sausepander mussels on the kisschen table." This could be her preparing mussels for cooking, or it could be her massaging HCE's muscles. Regardless, Kate says that he "sizzled there watching" her. In the third part of her testimony, she describes doing the can-can for HCE, "showing my jiggoty sleeves and all my new toulong touloosies." "Whisk!" says Kate, imitating (as McHugh notes) the sound of her dress lifting as she danced. "There's me shims and here's me hams and this is me juppettes, gause be the meter! Whisk! What's this? Whisk! And that?" In summing up, Kate calls her dancing "[f]uddling fun for Fullacan's sake!"
"All halt!" shouts one of the young chaps, upset with the way in which the examination has proceeded. "Sponsor programme and close down. That's enough, genral, of finicking about Finnegan and fiddling with his faddles." He calls for a final ballot to remove all doubt. This means that he wants HCE, the ultimate authority, to testify. "Search ye the Finn!" calls the young chap, ordering HCE to be produced for examination. "The sinder's under shriving sheet. Fa Fe Fi Fo Fum! Ho, croak, evildoer! Arise, sir ghostus!" Excitement permeates the air as we prepare to once again hear HCE's voice tomorrow.
Monday, September 7, 2015
"the brandnew braintrust"
(528.14-530.22) We begin today with one of the old men (identified by McHugh as Mark) wrapping up the passage involving Isabel. He compares her to the Virgin Mary, tracing her life through Vico's stages: "Think of a maiden, Presentacion. [Youth] Double her, Annupciacion. [Marriage] Take your first thoughts away from her, Immacolacion. [Death]" Isabel will be ever shining, yet the old man suggests that she should be hidden or cloistered away, or at least veiled.
The remainder of today's reading consists of a long interruption of sorts by Matthew (as identified by McHugh, which makes sense because he refers to the other three old men near the beginning of his speech). "Jump the railchairs or take them, as you pleace, but and, sir, my queskins first, foxyjack!" says Matthew, asking for a chance to examine the witness. Before he gets to his list of questions, though, a type of shift occurs. The four old men morph into four "bright young chaps of the brandnew braintrust," and the questioning takes on a slightly different, seemingly more inquisitive, tone. His questions are rather lengthy and come at a rapid-fire pace, giving Shaun no chance to reply. First, he wonders about the story behind the two young women, here identified as "Misses Mirtha and Merry, the two dreeper's assistents." Were they on the up-and-up, having their papers signed by their previous employer? And how, Matthew asks, did HCE (here called "O'Bejorumsen or Mockmacmahonitch," indicating his foreignness) find himself running a pub ("come into the awful position of the barrel of bellywash")? Where were the three soldiers ("the doughboys, three by nombres, won in ziel") -- who, incidentally, he says were acting "contrary to military rules" -- when they happened upon HCE? Is it true that HCE is co-owner of a circus (to which Matthew will be taking his children when the tickets are half-price) and that he ("the shamshemshowman") sought assistance from the police when he claimed he was being molested by women in the city? And, finally, did HCE send his son to get a jar of porter to give ALP while HCE caroused around town?
With these (and a few other) questions rattled off, Matthew calls for Sackerson, who "reported on the whole hoodlum," to testify.
The remainder of today's reading consists of a long interruption of sorts by Matthew (as identified by McHugh, which makes sense because he refers to the other three old men near the beginning of his speech). "Jump the railchairs or take them, as you pleace, but and, sir, my queskins first, foxyjack!" says Matthew, asking for a chance to examine the witness. Before he gets to his list of questions, though, a type of shift occurs. The four old men morph into four "bright young chaps of the brandnew braintrust," and the questioning takes on a slightly different, seemingly more inquisitive, tone. His questions are rather lengthy and come at a rapid-fire pace, giving Shaun no chance to reply. First, he wonders about the story behind the two young women, here identified as "Misses Mirtha and Merry, the two dreeper's assistents." Were they on the up-and-up, having their papers signed by their previous employer? And how, Matthew asks, did HCE (here called "O'Bejorumsen or Mockmacmahonitch," indicating his foreignness) find himself running a pub ("come into the awful position of the barrel of bellywash")? Where were the three soldiers ("the doughboys, three by nombres, won in ziel") -- who, incidentally, he says were acting "contrary to military rules" -- when they happened upon HCE? Is it true that HCE is co-owner of a circus (to which Matthew will be taking his children when the tickets are half-price) and that he ("the shamshemshowman") sought assistance from the police when he claimed he was being molested by women in the city? And, finally, did HCE send his son to get a jar of porter to give ALP while HCE caroused around town?
With these (and a few other) questions rattled off, Matthew calls for Sackerson, who "reported on the whole hoodlum," to testify.
Sunday, September 6, 2015
"Woman will water the wild world over."
(526.16-528.13) After hearing Shaun's song about the trinity formed by him, Shem, and their shame, one of the old men likens that trinity to the three soldiers and wonders where the two "jinnyjos" fit in. A voice, which seems to be John's (it is answering an address to "Walker John Referent") but could be Shaun's (as Yawn/John have been merging, or close to merging, in recent pages) answers that HCE was "larking in the trefoll of the furry glans with two stripping baremaids, Stilla Underwood and Moth MacGarry." But now a third girl comes into the scene. This girl "was that one that was always mad gone on him." She rests by the river "making faces at her bachspilled likeness in the brook after and cooling herself in the element, she pleasing it, she praising it." One of the old men believes that this girl could be Isabel: "It seems to same with Iscappellas? Ys? Gotellus! A tickey for tie taughts!"
This girl must be Isabel, for Shaun now channels the voice of his sister for another somewhat-extended monologue that is delivered in her voice. The monologue is primarily addressed to her reflection in the river -- "meme mearest" -- but at times it seems to be delivered to her lover (who himself sometimes bears similarities to her father, HCE ("dare all grandpassia"), who is gone but was "so pleasing at Strip Teasy up the stairs"). Much of the monologue is devoted to Isabel complimenting herself: her skin ("a perfect apposition with the coldcream"), her hair ("Could I but pass my hands some, my hands through, thine hair!"), and her hands ("Chic hands."), among other things. She adores her lover, and she goes on to speak about the time "when I turned his head on his same manly bust and kissed him more." She's afraid that he might kiss and tell, but she and her reflection will keep the story "a glorious lie between us" so that "not a novene in all the convent loretos, not my littlest one of all, for mercy's sake need ever know, what passed our lips or."
Isabel proceeds to imagine her wedding ceremony, which "will all take bloss as oranged at St Audiens rosan chocolate chapelry." After picturing the wedding mass, her reflection begins to fade. "And listen, you, you beauty, esster, I'll be clue to who knows you, pray Magda, Marthe with Luz and Joan, while I lie with warm lisp on the Tolka," she says at the end of her monologue, just as the reflection finally fades completely ("I'm fay!").
This girl must be Isabel, for Shaun now channels the voice of his sister for another somewhat-extended monologue that is delivered in her voice. The monologue is primarily addressed to her reflection in the river -- "meme mearest" -- but at times it seems to be delivered to her lover (who himself sometimes bears similarities to her father, HCE ("dare all grandpassia"), who is gone but was "so pleasing at Strip Teasy up the stairs"). Much of the monologue is devoted to Isabel complimenting herself: her skin ("a perfect apposition with the coldcream"), her hair ("Could I but pass my hands some, my hands through, thine hair!"), and her hands ("Chic hands."), among other things. She adores her lover, and she goes on to speak about the time "when I turned his head on his same manly bust and kissed him more." She's afraid that he might kiss and tell, but she and her reflection will keep the story "a glorious lie between us" so that "not a novene in all the convent loretos, not my littlest one of all, for mercy's sake need ever know, what passed our lips or."
Isabel proceeds to imagine her wedding ceremony, which "will all take bloss as oranged at St Audiens rosan chocolate chapelry." After picturing the wedding mass, her reflection begins to fade. "And listen, you, you beauty, esster, I'll be clue to who knows you, pray Magda, Marthe with Luz and Joan, while I lie with warm lisp on the Tolka," she says at the end of her monologue, just as the reflection finally fades completely ("I'm fay!").
Saturday, September 5, 2015
"You are taxing us into the driven future"
(524.22-526.15) Today's reading begins with Tom's voice finishing his brief monologue. He picks up on Coppinger's image of 12 fish in a "cunifarm school of herring" swimming along, "[b]utting, charging, bracing, backing, springing, shrinking, swaying, darting, shooting, bucking and sprinkling their dossies sodouscheock with the twinx of their taylz" (McHugh notes that these fishy actions correspond with the 12 zodiac signs, which I think is pretty cool) on their way to "a libidous pickpuckparty." This, Tom says, is how Coppinger "visualises the hidebound homelies of creed crux ethics." Hmm.
The old men begin to argue about this monologue. One suggests that Shaun, channeling Tom, is an "absexed" heretic. Another has trouble following this "otherwise accurate account" and asks what kind of fish was involved and wonders whether Shaun is "taxing us into the driven future." One of them makes the connection between the fish and "Parasol Irelly" (HCE, aka Persse O'Reilly), the father of nations who spawns "ova and fry like a marrye monach all amanygoround his seven parish churches." This prompts Shaun, now as Hosty, to compose a new verse about the fishy HCE/O'Reilly, which focuses on his lechery:
But, one of the old men asks, could the two fishermen (one on each side of the bank) coexist without "their tertium quid" (third part)? Shaun answers this question with another verse, indicating the manner in which he and his brother, Shem, form a unified, trinitarian whole via the aid of that third part (another form, or effect, of HCE):
The old men begin to argue about this monologue. One suggests that Shaun, channeling Tom, is an "absexed" heretic. Another has trouble following this "otherwise accurate account" and asks what kind of fish was involved and wonders whether Shaun is "taxing us into the driven future." One of them makes the connection between the fish and "Parasol Irelly" (HCE, aka Persse O'Reilly), the father of nations who spawns "ova and fry like a marrye monach all amanygoround his seven parish churches." This prompts Shaun, now as Hosty, to compose a new verse about the fishy HCE/O'Reilly, which focuses on his lechery:
There's an old psalmsobbin lax salmoner fogeyboren Herrin Plundehowse.After the verse is sung, the old men see HCE and try to catch him in a fishnet. He gets away, having "skid like a skate and berthed on her byrnie," but one of the old men says "never a fear," for eventually HCE will be caught, "slitheryscales on liffeybank," when he washes ashore from "the bubblye waters of, babblyebubblye waters of" (language recalling the memorable end of the Wake's first Book) the Liffey and sleeps on the sand.
Who went floundering with his boatloads of spermin spunk about.
Leaping freck after every tom and wet lissy between Howth and Humbermouth.
Our Human Conger Eel!
But, one of the old men asks, could the two fishermen (one on each side of the bank) coexist without "their tertium quid" (third part)? Shaun answers this question with another verse, indicating the manner in which he and his brother, Shem, form a unified, trinitarian whole via the aid of that third part (another form, or effect, of HCE):
Three in one, one and three.
Shem and Shaun and the shame that sunders em.
Wisdom's son, folly's brother.
Friday, September 4, 2015
"Now the long form and the strong form and reform alltogether!"
(522.24-524.22) As one would expect, the old man continues to grow more frustrated with Shaun's laughter during the examination. Shaun suggests that he doesn't mean any offense. "Are you to have all the pleasure quizzing on me?" he asks. "I didn't say it aloud, sir. I have something inside of me talking to myself." The old man isn't buying it, though. "You're a nice third degree witness, faith!" he responds. "But this is no laughing matter." He suggests that Shaun should be psychoanalyzed, but Shaun wants none of this "expert nursis sympathy" and says that he "can psoakoonaloose myself any time I want (the fog follow you all!) without your interferences or any other pigeonstealer."
"Sample! Sample!" someone responds, perhaps encouraging Shaun to psychoanalyze himself. At this point in the proceedings, the structure of the old man-Shaun dialogue breaks down. The voice of Sylvia Silence, the girl detective, suggests the possibility that the evil of HCE's sin might ultimately result in general good ("might nevewtheless lead somehow on to good towawd the genewality"). Another, more "judicial"-sounding voice, proposes that HCE/Shaun "may be been as much sinned against as sinning" before calling for "the long form and the strong form and reform alltogether!" A third voice paints HCE ("Hotchkiss Culthur's Everready") as a racehorse who is present at Dublin Bay and ready to perform as a stud.
These various voices prompt a long, digression-filled monologue from an unnamed voice, which must be that of Treacle Tom, for he speaks frequently of his "inmate friend," Frisky Shorty. The two were engaged in a friendly argument at the "Doddercan Easehouse" and having a chat with their "hosty" (the pub host, but also Hosty, the composer of "The Ballad of Persse O'Reilly") about diseases. Tom and Frisky wanted to get to the bottom of HCE's story, so they "approached a reverend gentlman of the name of Mr Coppinger with reference to a piece of fire fittings." Coppinger consulted a piece of writing by "Mr J. P. Cockshott." It's not clear yet what they all discovered. Perhaps it will be revealed in tomorrow's reading.
"Sample! Sample!" someone responds, perhaps encouraging Shaun to psychoanalyze himself. At this point in the proceedings, the structure of the old man-Shaun dialogue breaks down. The voice of Sylvia Silence, the girl detective, suggests the possibility that the evil of HCE's sin might ultimately result in general good ("might nevewtheless lead somehow on to good towawd the genewality"). Another, more "judicial"-sounding voice, proposes that HCE/Shaun "may be been as much sinned against as sinning" before calling for "the long form and the strong form and reform alltogether!" A third voice paints HCE ("Hotchkiss Culthur's Everready") as a racehorse who is present at Dublin Bay and ready to perform as a stud.
These various voices prompt a long, digression-filled monologue from an unnamed voice, which must be that of Treacle Tom, for he speaks frequently of his "inmate friend," Frisky Shorty. The two were engaged in a friendly argument at the "Doddercan Easehouse" and having a chat with their "hosty" (the pub host, but also Hosty, the composer of "The Ballad of Persse O'Reilly") about diseases. Tom and Frisky wanted to get to the bottom of HCE's story, so they "approached a reverend gentlman of the name of Mr Coppinger with reference to a piece of fire fittings." Coppinger consulted a piece of writing by "Mr J. P. Cockshott." It's not clear yet what they all discovered. Perhaps it will be revealed in tomorrow's reading.
Thursday, September 3, 2015
"bushes have eyes, don't forget"
(520.22-522.23) As the old man and Shaun continue to banter back and forth, the old man once again grows impatient. "What hill ar yu fluking about, ye lamelookond fyats!" he says to Shaun. "I'll discipline ye!" He asks Shaun whether he'll swear to the second version of his story and recant everything he said when he recounted HCE's fall the first time.
"Ay say aye," replies Shaun, effectively swearing that he swore falsely. The old man still isn't quite satisfied, though, and he goes on to ask Shaun how much he's getting paid for all this swearing. "Vurry nothing," replies Shaun, insisting that he isn't seeing a penny for "the whole dumb plodding thing." Not even a drink? "Bushmillah!" Shaun says. "Do you think for a moment? Yes, by the way. How very necessarily true! Give me fair play. When?" Clearly, Shaun is having it both ways, giving contradictory answers. Still, it's the Wake, so perhaps each side of the contradiction is true. Nevertheless, the old man eventually grows so frustrated with Shaun's wavering that he challenges him to step outside: "Guid! We make fight! Three to one! Raddy?" (Earlier on page 521, Shaun has seemingly merged with John, making the fight three old men versus one.) Shaun doesn't want to fight, though. He'd rather sail down the Queen's road. "Farewell, but whenever!" he says. "Buy!"
But the old man doesn't let Shaun leave the witness stand yet, and he concedes that perhaps Shaun's contradictions are indicative of the complex interplay of actors and actions present within HCE's story. "Let me once more," he says. "There are sordidly tales within tales, you clearly understand that? Now my other point." This other point is whether Shaun knew that HCE had been "accused of a certain offence or of a choice of two serious charges, as skirts were divided on the subject." Shaun acknowledges this fact: "You hear things. Besides (and serially now) bushes have eyes, don't forget. Hah!" Would Shaun rather play "bull before shebears" or "the hindlegs off a clotheshorse," the old man wonders. He also asks whether there were any "orangepeelers or greengoaters" on Shaun's "sylvan family tree." Shaun laughs off this question as well: "Buggered if I know! It all depends on how much family silver you want for a nass-and-pair. Hah!"
Shaun's laughter draws the old man's wrath again. "What do you mean sir, behind your hah!" he asks. "Nothing, sir," Shaun replies. "Only a bone moving into place. Blotogaff. Hahah!"
"Ay say aye," replies Shaun, effectively swearing that he swore falsely. The old man still isn't quite satisfied, though, and he goes on to ask Shaun how much he's getting paid for all this swearing. "Vurry nothing," replies Shaun, insisting that he isn't seeing a penny for "the whole dumb plodding thing." Not even a drink? "Bushmillah!" Shaun says. "Do you think for a moment? Yes, by the way. How very necessarily true! Give me fair play. When?" Clearly, Shaun is having it both ways, giving contradictory answers. Still, it's the Wake, so perhaps each side of the contradiction is true. Nevertheless, the old man eventually grows so frustrated with Shaun's wavering that he challenges him to step outside: "Guid! We make fight! Three to one! Raddy?" (Earlier on page 521, Shaun has seemingly merged with John, making the fight three old men versus one.) Shaun doesn't want to fight, though. He'd rather sail down the Queen's road. "Farewell, but whenever!" he says. "Buy!"
But the old man doesn't let Shaun leave the witness stand yet, and he concedes that perhaps Shaun's contradictions are indicative of the complex interplay of actors and actions present within HCE's story. "Let me once more," he says. "There are sordidly tales within tales, you clearly understand that? Now my other point." This other point is whether Shaun knew that HCE had been "accused of a certain offence or of a choice of two serious charges, as skirts were divided on the subject." Shaun acknowledges this fact: "You hear things. Besides (and serially now) bushes have eyes, don't forget. Hah!" Would Shaun rather play "bull before shebears" or "the hindlegs off a clotheshorse," the old man wonders. He also asks whether there were any "orangepeelers or greengoaters" on Shaun's "sylvan family tree." Shaun laughs off this question as well: "Buggered if I know! It all depends on how much family silver you want for a nass-and-pair. Hah!"
Shaun's laughter draws the old man's wrath again. "What do you mean sir, behind your hah!" he asks. "Nothing, sir," Shaun replies. "Only a bone moving into place. Blotogaff. Hahah!"
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
"Vary vary finny!"
(518.15-520.21) The discussion of the fight between HCE and the "new" version of the Cad resumes at the beginning of today's reading. The two exchanged blows (and, apparently, weapons) "like their caractacurs in an Irish Ruman" and threw bottles at each other, for they "did not know that the war was over." But after that war was done, the two men "meed peace." Shaun, however, agrees with the old man that the wars will continue despite the peace between these two giants. As the old man suggests, "this pattern pootsch punnermine of concoon and proprey went on, hog and minne, a whole whake, your night after larry's night" and is repeated "a thousand and one times."
The old man turns back to his continuing cross examination of Shaun, whom he believes may be inconsistent with the truth. "Didget think I was asleep at the wheel?" the old man asks. He wonders how Shaun could attest under oath before the "tall grand jurors of thathens of tharctic" that the moon was shining at the same time that there was plenty of rain. Shaun affirms this previous statement, but implies that he may not have been truthful before when he said that he had witnessed firsthand everything to which he has attested. Instead, he says, at least part of the story was "told me as an inspired statement by a friend of myself."
The remainder of today's reading consists of an account of what that friend relayed to Shaun. This new version of the story implicates the four old men, implying that they too were witnesses to HCE's sin in the park. In this telling, Luke ("Tarpey") relayed to Shaun that rain was promised on the evening in question to Mark's wife ("Mrs Lyons"). Luke also told Shaun that Luke took a walk in Phoenix Park ("feelmick's park"), where a Mr Michael Clery said that Father MacGregor (a cross between Matthew and John) was desperate for help. Clery told Luke to go see MacGregor to tell him about the incident in the confessional (in which the Cad's wife was reported to have told her priest the story of HCE and thus started the spread of the rumors about him). In this version, it was Mark's wife who told the priest, and it's added that she left three shillings for the church. More of the old man's examination of Shaun will come tomorrow . . . .
The old man turns back to his continuing cross examination of Shaun, whom he believes may be inconsistent with the truth. "Didget think I was asleep at the wheel?" the old man asks. He wonders how Shaun could attest under oath before the "tall grand jurors of thathens of tharctic" that the moon was shining at the same time that there was plenty of rain. Shaun affirms this previous statement, but implies that he may not have been truthful before when he said that he had witnessed firsthand everything to which he has attested. Instead, he says, at least part of the story was "told me as an inspired statement by a friend of myself."
The remainder of today's reading consists of an account of what that friend relayed to Shaun. This new version of the story implicates the four old men, implying that they too were witnesses to HCE's sin in the park. In this telling, Luke ("Tarpey") relayed to Shaun that rain was promised on the evening in question to Mark's wife ("Mrs Lyons"). Luke also told Shaun that Luke took a walk in Phoenix Park ("feelmick's park"), where a Mr Michael Clery said that Father MacGregor (a cross between Matthew and John) was desperate for help. Clery told Luke to go see MacGregor to tell him about the incident in the confessional (in which the Cad's wife was reported to have told her priest the story of HCE and thus started the spread of the rumors about him). In this version, it was Mark's wife who told the priest, and it's added that she left three shillings for the church. More of the old man's examination of Shaun will come tomorrow . . . .
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
"Grinwicker time"
(516.3-518.14) Shaun begins today's reading by detailing the arrival of HCE -- "MacSmashall Swingy of the Cattleaxes" -- on the town. HCE walked around "dragging his feet in the usual course" and was "ever so terribly naas," offering grooming advice to the men he encountered. His niceness had a limit, though. He grew impatient waiting for "the key of John Dunn's field" as he wondered why someone named Montague was robbed and who burned some hay. At this point, he encountered his nemesis, another form of the Cad, who we first encountered so long ago. This new antagonist rises "up from the bog of the depths " and appears "raging with the thirst of the sacred sponge."
Was this how that "subtler angelic warfare or photoplay finister" began between the two eternal enemies, the old man asks. "Truly," Shaun replies, "That I may never!" One of the men was deaf and the other was dumb, and after they exchanged insults and blows they ended up "rolled togutter into the ditch together." Echoing the Cad's request for the time when we first encountered him, the old man asks Shaun what time this all occurred (specifically in the "Greenwicker time" zone). The two argue whether it was 11:30 or 12:30, but agree that the date was November 11: "The uneven day of the unleventh month of the unevented year," as Shaun says, or "A triduum before Our Larry's own day," as the old man says (St. Lawrence O'Toole's feast day is November 14, as McHugh notes).
Shaun swears that he saw this fight from 100 feet away. "Like the heavenly militia," says Shaun as he describes the skirmish. "So wreek me Ghyllygully! With my tongue through my toecap on the headlong stone of kismet if so 'tis the will of Whose B. Dunn." The passage concludes with Shaun agreeing that the "arms' parley" seemed like "meatierities forces vegateareans."
Was this how that "subtler angelic warfare or photoplay finister" began between the two eternal enemies, the old man asks. "Truly," Shaun replies, "That I may never!" One of the men was deaf and the other was dumb, and after they exchanged insults and blows they ended up "rolled togutter into the ditch together." Echoing the Cad's request for the time when we first encountered him, the old man asks Shaun what time this all occurred (specifically in the "Greenwicker time" zone). The two argue whether it was 11:30 or 12:30, but agree that the date was November 11: "The uneven day of the unleventh month of the unevented year," as Shaun says, or "A triduum before Our Larry's own day," as the old man says (St. Lawrence O'Toole's feast day is November 14, as McHugh notes).
Shaun swears that he saw this fight from 100 feet away. "Like the heavenly militia," says Shaun as he describes the skirmish. "So wreek me Ghyllygully! With my tongue through my toecap on the headlong stone of kismet if so 'tis the will of Whose B. Dunn." The passage concludes with Shaun agreeing that the "arms' parley" seemed like "meatierities forces vegateareans."
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