Page 175 (8.1173-1193) "Making for... Safe!"

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Making for the museum gate with long windy strides he lifted his eyes. Handsome building. Sir Thomas Deane designed. Not following me?

1893

c1895

StreetView now

49yo in 1901

Didn't see me perhaps. Light in his eyes.

Boylan would seem to be on Kildare north of the gates


The flutter of his breath came forth in short sighs. Quick. Cold statues: quiet there. Safe in a minute.



No, didn't see me. After two. Just at the gate.



My heart!

(is LB more vulnerable because he decided not to return home, or less?)


His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone. Sir Thomas Deane was the Greek architecture.



Look for something I.



His hasty hand went quick into a pocket, took out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim. Where did I?

(he's doing this as he scurries, right?)


Busy looking for.



He thrust back quickly Agendath.



Afternoon she said.

(when did she say this?)


I am looking for that. Yes, that. Try all pockets. Handker. Freeman. Where did I? Ah, yes. Trousers. Potato. Purse. Where?



Hurry. Walk quietly. Moment more. My heart.



His hand looking for the where did I put found in his hip pocket soap lotion have to call tepid paper stuck, Ah, soap there I yes. Gate.

(playacting that the soap was what he was looking for all along)


Safe!

(like a game of hide and seek)

>

mysteries: why is Boylan there?


[DD 02:59-05:12]

[IM 1:24:54-1:26:16]

[LV1 41:53-43:21]

[LV2 29:39-31:25]


lestrygonians: 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175

Page 174 (8.1135-1172) "With a gentle... Get on."

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With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears. Again. Fibres of fine fine straw. Then gently his finger felt the skin of his right cheek. Downy hair there too. Not smooth enough. The belly is the smoothest. No-one about. There he goes into Frederick street. Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano. Might be settling my braces.

44yo in 1901

Molesworth in 1972

Walking by Doran's public house he slid his hand between waistcoat and trousers and, pulling aside his shirt gently, felt a slack fold of his belly. But I know it's whiteyellow. Want to try in the dark to see.

37yo in 1901

He withdrew his hand and pulled his dress to.

1972 pic
StreetView now


Poor fellow! Quite a boy. Terrible. Really terrible. What dreams would he have, not seeing? Life a dream for him. Where is the justice being born that way? All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York. Holocaust. Karma they call that transmigration for sins you did in a past life the reincarnation met him pikehoses. Dear, dear, dear. Pity of course: but somehow you can't cotton on to them someway.

weirdly, Joyce will use the phrase "barbecue beanfeast" in the first FW vignette: "after that same barbecue beanfeast was all over" (longshot: is this evidence that LB is FW's dreamer?)

General Slocum

Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the freemasons' hall. Solemn as Troy. After his good lunch in Earlsfort terrace. Old legal cronies cracking a magnum. Tales of the bench and assizes and annals of the bluecoat school. I sentenced him to ten years. I suppose he'd turn up his nose at that stuff I drank. Vintage wine for them, the year marked on a dusty bottle. Has his own ideas of justice in the recorder's court. Wellmeaning old man. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime. Sends them to the rightabout. The devil on moneylenders. Gave Reuben J a great strawcalling. Now he's really what they call a dirty jew. Power those judges have. Crusty old topers in wigs. Bear with a sore paw. And may the Lord have mercy on your soul.

70yo in 1901

1868

"Literary Miscellanies: Tales of the Bench and Assizes" (pub 1909, no ebook) and "The Foundation of the Hospital and Free School of King Charles II, Oxmantown Dublin, Commonly Called the Blue Coat School: with Notices of Some of Its Governors, and of Contemporary Events in Dublin from the Foundation, 1668 to 1840, when Its Government by the City Ceased" by Sir Frederick Richard Falkiner [ebook]


Hello, placard. Mirus bazaar. His excellency the lord lieutenant. Sixteenth today it is. In aid of funds for Mercer's hospital. The Messiah was first given for that. Yes. Handel. What about going out there: Ballsbridge. Drop in on Keyes. No use sticking to him like a leech. Wear out my welcome. Sure to know someone on the gate.


Mercer's hospital 1884
"Messiah" ♬


Mr Bloom came to Kildare Street. First I must. Library.

StreetView now


Straw hat in sunlight. Tan shoes. Turnedup trousers. It is. It is.

His heart quopped softly. To the right. Museum. Goddesses. He swerved to the right.

(so he's crossed Kildare, entered the main gate, and now turns right?)


Is it? Almost certain. Won't look. Wine in my face. Why did I? Too heady. Yes, it is. The walk. Not see. Not see. Get on.

>

mysteries:


[DD 03:43-05:36]
[DD 00:00-02:59]

[IM 1:21:47-1:24:54]

[LV1 38:42-41:53]

[LV2 26:08-29:39]



lestrygonians: 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175

Page 173 (8.1096-1134) "Stains... over it."

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Stains on his coat. Slobbers his food, I suppose. Tastes all different for him. Have to be spoonfed first. Like a child's hand his hand. Like Milly's was. Sensitive. Sizing me up I daresay from my hand. Wonder if he has a name, Van. Keep his cane clear of the horse's legs: tired drudge get his doze. That's right. Clear. Behind a bull: in front of a horse.



— Thanks, sir.



Knows I'm a man. Voice.



— Right now? First turn to the left.



The blind stripling tapped the curbstone and went on his way, drawing his cane back, feeling again.



Mr Bloom walked behind the eyeless feet, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. Poor young fellow! How on earth did he know that van was there? Must have felt it. See things in their forehead perhaps: kind of sense of volume. Weight or size of it, something blacker than the dark. Wonder would he feel it if something was removed? Feel a gap. Queer idea of Dublin he must have, tapping his way round by the stones. Could he walk in a beeline if he hadn't that cane? Bloodless pious face like a fellow going in to be a priest.



Penrose! That was that chap's name.

see p148


Look at all the things they can learn to do. Read with their fingers. Tune pianos. Or we are surprised they have any brains. Why we think a deformed person or a hunchback clever if he says something we might say. Of course the other senses are more. Embroider. Plait baskets. People ought to help. Work basket I could buy Molly's birthday. Hates sewing. Might take an objection. Dark men they call them.

cf p28 "Averroes and Moses Maimonides, dark men in mien and movement, flashing in their mocking mirrors the obscure soul of the world, a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend"


Sense of smell must be stronger too. Smells on all sides, bunched together. Each street different smell. Each person too. Then the spring, the summer: smells. Tastes? They say you can't taste wines with your eyes shut or a cold in the head. Also smoke in the dark they say get no pleasure.



And with a woman, for instance. More shameless not seeing. That girl passing the Stewart institution, head in the air. Look at me. I have them all on. Must be strange not to see her. Kind of a form in his mind's eye. The voice, temperature when he touches her with fingers must almost see the lines, the curves. His hands on her hair, for instance. Say it was black, for instance. Good. We call it black. Then passing over her white skin. Different feel perhaps. Feeling of white.



Postoffice. Must answer. Fag today. Send her a postal order two shillings, half a crown. Accept my little present. Stationer's just here too. Wait. Think over it.

>

mysteries:


[DD 02:34-03:35]
[DD 00:00-03:43]

[IM 1:18:46-1:21:47]

[LV1 35:34-38:42]

[LV2 22:48-26:08]



lestrygonians: 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175

Page 172 (8.1057-1095) "Keyes: two... No answer."

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Keyes: two months if I get Nannetti to. That'll be two pounds ten, about two pounds eight. Three Hynes owes me. Two eleven. Prescott's dyeworks van over there. If I get Billy Prescott's ad: two fifteen. Five guineas about. On the pig's back.

LB saw a Prescott's car on p80

(they deliver)

Prescott's already had an ad in the FJ that morning, so maybe he's hoping for a renewal: 'IMPORTANT. Lace Curtains are now very carefully cleaned and finished with our New Dust resisting process. By this System they keep clean longer than if done in the old way. Prescott’s Dye Works. Carriage Paid One Way.' [cite]
£2/15 in 1904 = $360 today

50yo in 1901

Could buy one of those silk petticoats for Molly, colour of her new garters.

at Brown Thomas, p160: "Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk stockings."
p55: "violet, colour of Molly's new garters"

Today. Today. Not think.



Tour the south then. What about English watering places? Brighton, Margate. Piers by moonlight. Her voice floating out. Those lovely seaside girls. Against John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. Handy man wants job. Small wages. Will eat anything.



Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of unbought tarts and passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. Why I left the church of Rome. Birds' Nest women run him. They say they used to give pauper children soup to change to protestants in the time of the potato blight. Society over the way papa went to for the conversion of poor jews. Same bait. Why we left the church of Rome?

36yo illiterate in 1901

44yo in 1901

Birds Nest = Protestant orphanage in Kingstown [1893]
"Why I left the church of Rome" [ebook]


A blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone with his slender cane. No tram in sight. Wants to cross.

"stripling" = adolescent, fragile offshoot
(foreshadowing SD? reg req)
cf p37: "I am getting on nicely in the dark. My ash sword hangs at my side. Tap with it: they do"


— Do you want to cross? Mr Bloom asked.



The blind stripling did not answer. His wall face frowned weakly. He moved his head uncertainly.



— You're in Dawson street, Mr Bloom said. Molesworth street is opposite. Do you want to cross? There's nothing in the way.

looking north, Molesworth on near right, Duke on (far) left

The cane moved out trembling to the left. Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's. Where I saw his brillantined hair just when I was. Horse drooping. Driver in John Long's. Slaking his drouth.

p66: "Drago's shopbell ringing. Queer I was just thinking that moment. Brown brillantined hair over his collar."


— There's a van there, Mr Bloom said, but it's not moving. I'll see you across. Do you want to go to Molesworth street?



— Yes, the stripling answered. South Frederick street.



— Come, Mr Bloom said.



He touched the thin elbow gently: then took the limp seeing hand to guide it forward.



Say something to him. Better not do the condescending. They mistrust what you tell them. Pass a common remark:



— The rain kept off.



No answer.

>

mysteries:


[DD 02:51-04:12]
[DD 00:00-02:34]

[IM 1:16:12-1:18:46]

[LV1 32:57-35:34]

[LV2 20:00-22:48]



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Page 171 (8.1024-1056) "Prrwht! ...properly."

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— Prrwht! Paddy Leonard said with scorn. Mr Byrne, sir, we'll take two of your small Jamesons after that and a...

one for himself and one for Nosey (who didn't need to specify)


— Stone ginger, Davy Byrne added civilly.

— Ay, Paddy Leonard said. A suckingbottle for the baby.


1909 map, StreetView now


Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. Something green it would have to be: spinach, say. Then with those Röntgen rays searchlight you could.

X-rays were discovered in 1895 and quickly became a popular novelty, with appreciation of their dangers developing only slowly over the next two decades. They caused fluorescent materials to glow green (not just any green material)


At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a sick knuckly cud on the cobble stones and lapped it with new zest. Surfeit. Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents. First sweet then savoury. Mr Bloom coasted warily. Ruminants. His second course. Their upper jaw they move. Wonder if Tom Rochford will do anything with that invention of his. Wasting time explaining it to Flynn's mouth. Lean people long mouths. Ought to be a hall or place where inventors could go in and invent free. Course then you'd have all the cranks pestering.

TR's invention dates to 1909 and was meant to inform theatre audiences which acts had already performed
(did Joyce omit the explanation scene, or was it earlier?)


He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the bars:

Jump to 3:25:

Don Giovanni, a cenar teco
M'invitasti.

Feel better. Burgundy. Good pick me up. Who distilled first? Some chap in the blues. Dutch courage. That Kilkenny People in the national library now I must.

shockingly, Bloom confuses fermentation and distillation-- both are ancient, but fermentation was by far the earlier and simpler cure for the blues

founded c1892, still going

Bare clean closestools, waiting, in the window of William Miller, plumber, turned back his thoughts. They could: and watch it all the way down, swallow a pin sometimes come out of the ribs years after, tour round the body, changing biliary duct, spleen squirting liver, gastric juice coils of intestines like pipes. But the poor buffer would have to stand all the time with his insides entrails on show. Science.

enclosed chamberpot with seat and lid

— A cenar teco.

'to dine with you'


What does that teco mean? Tonight perhaps.

'with you'

Don Giovanni, thou hast me invited
To come to supper tonight,
The rum the rumdum.

Doesn't go properly.

(the meaning, or the rhythm-in-translation?)

>

mysteries:


[DD 02:33-03:16]
[DD 00:00-02:51]

[IM 1:14:01-1:16:12]

[LV1 30:39-32:57]

[LV2 17:37-20:00]



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Page 170 (8.988-1023) "Nothing in... whispered."

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— Nothing in black and white, Nosey Flynn said.



Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons came in. Tom Rochford followed frowning, a plaining hand on his claret waistcoat.

Paddy Leonard p88 passim, Dubliners
in 1905 a real clerk named Tom Rochford was involved in a heroic sewer rescue, which will be anachronistically discussed in episode 10 
1901 39yo Arthur Rochford? 1911 42yo???

— Day, Mr Byrne.


— Day, gentlemen.



They paused at the counter.



— Who's standing? Paddy Leonard asked.



— I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn answered.



— Well, what'll it be? Paddy Leonard asked.



— I'll take a stone ginger, Bantam Lyons said.

"stone" referred to the bottle (a shortlived fad I think)
the 'ginger ale' vs 'ginger beer' distinction was still blurry, with ale usually clearer rather than cloudy. originally they were brewed and so had some alcohol, but by this time you had to specify the alcoholic kind

1896 ad


— How much? Paddy Leonard cried. Since when, for God' sake? What's yours, Tom?



— How is the main drainage? Nosey Flynn asked, sipping.

'Main Drainage' was a somewhat controversial topic in Dublin at the time


For answer Tom Rochford pressed his hand to his breastbone and hiccupped.



— Would I trouble you for a glass of fresh water, Mr Byrne? he said.



— Certainly, sir.



Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates.



— Lord love a duck, he said, look at what I'm standing drinks to! Cold water and gingerpop! Two fellows that would suck whisky off a sore leg. He has some bloody horse up his sleeve for the Gold cup. A dead snip.

'pop' referred to any carbonated drink in bottles that could make a popping sound when opened
whiskey was sometimes applied as an antiseptic


— Zinfandel is it? Nosey Flynn asked.

the horse, not the wine


Tom Rochford spilt powder from a twisted paper into the water set before him.

this trick for carrying powders may have originated for gunpowder in the days before bullets


— That cursed dyspepsia, he said before drinking.

CURsed (2 syllables)


— Breadsoda is very good, Davy Byrne said.

Tom Rochford nodded and drank.

baking soda, called bread soda in Ireland, is the simplest antacid. this seems to be what TR has brought with him.


— Is it Zinfandel?


— Say nothing! Bantam Lyons winked. I'm going to plunge five bob on my own.

5 shillings is about $30 today


— Tell us if you're worth your salt and be damned to you, Paddy Leonard said. Who gave it to you?



Mr Bloom on his way out raised three fingers in greeting.

(this wasn't the boyscout salute yet)


— So long! Nosey Flynn said.


The others turned.


— That's the man now that gave it to me, Bantam Lyons whispered.

>

mysteries: where is TomR in the 1901 and 1911 censi?


[DD 05:10-05:16]
[DD 00:00-02:33]

[IM 1:12:22-1:14:01]

[LV1 28:51-30:39]

[LV2 15:39-17:37]


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Page 169 (8.950-987) "yesterday and... I know, Davy Byrne said."

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yesterday and he coming out of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in Henry street with a jar of cream in his hand taking it home to his better half. She's well nourished, I tell you. Plovers on toast.

40yo and 38yo in 1901 (Irish lang too and 1911)

plover on sand

teal and bacon on toast

p61: "Bread and butter, four, sugar, spoon, her cream. Yes."


— And is he doing for the Freeman? Davy Byrne said.



Nosey Flynn pursed his lips.



— He doesn't buy cream on the ads he picks up. You can make bacon of that.



— How so? Davy Byrne asked, coming from his book.



Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the air with juggling fingers. He winked.



— He's in the craft, he said.



— Do you tell me so? Davy Byrne said.



— Very much so, Nosey Flynn said. Ancient free and accepted order. He's an excellent brother. Light, life and love, by God. They give him a leg up. I was told that by a— well, I won't say who.



— Is that a fact?



— O, it's a fine order, Nosey Flynn said. They stick to you when you're down. I know a fellow was trying to get into it, but they're as close as damn it. By God they did right to keep the women out of it.



Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in one:



— Iiiiiichaaaaaaach!



— There was one woman, Nosey Flynn said, hid herself in a clock to find out what they do be doing. But be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in on the spot a master mason. That was one of the Saint Legers of Doneraile.

surprisingly true:

Elizabeth Aldworth

Davy Byrne, sated after his yawn, said with tearwashed eyes:

— And is that a fact? Decent quiet man he is. I often saw him in here and I never once saw him, you know, over the line.



— God Almighty couldn't make him drunk, Nosey Flynn said firmly. Slips off when the fun gets too hot. Didn't you see him look at his watch? Ah, you weren't there. If you ask him to have a drink first thing he does he outs with the watch to see what he ought to imbibe. Declare to God he does.



— There are some like that, Davy Byrne said. He's a safe man, I'd say.



— He's not too bad, Nosey Flynn said, snuffling it up. He's been known to put his hand down too to help a fellow. Give the devil his due. O, Bloom has his good points. But there's one thing he'll never do.



His hand scrawled a dry pen signature beside his grog.

antisemitic folklore: Jews won't sign contracts


— I know, Davy Byrne said.

>

mysteries:


[DD 01:38-05:10]

[IM 1:10:11-1:12:22]

[LV1 26:17-28:51]

[LV2 12:52-15:39]


lestrygonians: 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175

Page 168 (8.910-949) "Pebbles... the day before"

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Pebbles fell. She lay still. A goat. No-one. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking surefooted, dropping currants. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Wildly I lay on her, kissed her: eyes, her lips, her stretched neck beating, woman's breasts full in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright. Hot I tongued her. She kissed me. I was kissed. All yielding she tossed my hair. Kissed, she kissed me.

nannies are female but may have horns

'currants'

"nun's veiling" = technical term for sheer soft plain white fabric (doesn't veil face)

she was 17, he was 21 or 22 [bio]


Me. And me now.

Stuck, the flies buzzed.



His downcast eyes followed the silent veining of the oaken slab. Beauty: it curves, curves are beauty. Shapely goddesses, Venus, Juno: curves the world admires. Can see them library museum standing in the round hall, naked goddesses. Aids to digestion. They don't care what man looks. All to see. Never speaking, I mean to say to fellows like Flynn. Suppose she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first? Mortal! Put you in your proper place. Quaffing nectar at mess with gods, golden dishes, all ambrosial. Not like a tanner lunch we have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips, bottle of Allsop. Nectar, imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food. Lovely forms of woman sculped Junonian. Immortal lovely. And we stuffing food in one hole and out behind: food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food: have to feed it like stoking an engine. They have no. Never looked. I'll look today. Keeper won't see. Bend down let something fall see if she.

"tanner" = 6d

Dribbling a quiet message from his bladder came to go to do not to do there to do. A man and ready he drained his glass to the lees and walked, to men too they gave themselves, manly conscious, lay with men lovers, a youth enjoyed her, to the yard.



When the sound of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne said from his book:

politely waits till LB is out of earshot
petty cash book


— What is this he is? Isn't he in the insurance line?

— He's out of that long ago, Nosey Flynn said. He does canvassing for the Freeman.

Drimmie's, 1896-97


— I know him well to see, Davy Byrne said. Is he in trouble?

Byrne didn't greet Bloom on p163 but if he remembers about Drimmie's then LB must have been coming in for 8yrs


— Trouble? Nosey Flynn said. Not that I heard of. Why?

— I noticed he was in mourning.

— Was he? Nosey Flynn said. So he was, faith. I asked him how was all at home. You're right, by God. So he was.

— I never broach the subject, Davy Byrne said humanely, if I see a gentleman is in trouble that way. It only brings it up fresh in their minds.

(remarkable emphasis on Byrne's morals)


— It's not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said. I met him the day before

>

mysteries:


[DD 02:04-05:09]
[DD 00:00-01:38]

[IM 1:06:58-1:10:11]

[LV1 23:03-26:17]

[LV2 09:18-12:52]


lestrygonians: 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175