"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.