Page 40 (3.102-139) "His tuneful... read his"

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<
His tuneful whistle sounds again, finely shaded, with rushes of the air, his fists bigdrumming on his padded knees.
This wind is sweeter.

Delaney: [107]

Houses of decay, mine, his and all. You told the Clongowes gentry you had an uncle a judge and an uncle a general in the army. Come out of them, Stephen. Beauty is not there. Nor in the stagnant bay of Marsh's library where you read the fading prophecies of Joachim Abbas. For whom? The hundredheaded rabble of the cathedral close. A hater of his kind ran from them to the wood of madness, his mane foaming in the moon, his eyeballs stars. Houyhnhnm, horsenostrilled.

Delaney: [108]

The oval equine faces, Temple, Buck Mulligan, Foxy Campbell, Lanternjaws. Abbas father, furious dean, what offence laid fire to their brains? Paff! Descende, calve, ut ne amplius decalveris. A garland of grey hair on his comminated head see him me clambering down to the footpace (descende!) clutching a monstrance, basiliskeyed. Get down, bald poll!

Delaney: [109]

A choir gives back menace and echo, assisting about the altar's horns, the snorted Latin of jackpriests moving burly in their albs, tonsured and oiled and gelded, fat with the fat of kidneys of wheat.
And at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it. Dringdring! And two streets off another locking it into a pyx. Dringadring! And in a ladychapel another taking housel all to his own cheek. Dringdring! Down, up, forward, back.

Delaney: [110]

Dan Occam thought of that, invincible doctor. A misty English morning the imp hypostasis tickled his brain. Bringing his host down and kneeling he heard twine with his second bell the first bell in the transept (he is lifting his) and, rising, heard (now I am lifting) their two bells (he is kneeling) twang in diphthong.


♬

Delaney: [111]

Cousin Stephen, you will never be a saint. Isle of saints. You were awfully holy, weren't you? You prayed to the Blessed Virgin that you might not have a red nose. You prayed to the devil in Serpentine avenue that the fubsy widow in front might lift her clothes still more from the wet street. O si, certo! Sell your soul for that, do, dyed rags pinned round a squaw. More tell me, more still! On the top of the Howth tram alone crying to the rain: naked women! naked women! What about that, eh?
What about what? What else were they invented for?

Dryden: 'Cousin Swift, you will never be a poet.'

1907

Howth tram video, 1956
a new tramroute for doubledeckers circling Howth head had opened in 1901, so Joyce was likely 19yo or older, ie 3 years earlier at the most

Delaney: [112]

Reading two pages apiece of seven books every night, eh? I was young. You bowed to yourself in the mirror, stepping forward to applause earnestly, striking face. Hurray for the Goddamned idiot! Hray! No-one saw: tell no-one. Books you were going to write with letters for titles. Have you read his

catalog of Joyce's reading pre-1905

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Page 39 (3.63-101) "Stephen... Listen."

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<
Stephen lately? No? Sure he's not down in Strasburg terrace with his aunt Sally? Couldn't he fly a bit higher than that, eh? And and and and tell us, Stephen, how is uncle Si? O weeping God, the things I married into!

Strasburg terrace

Delaney: [104]

De boys up in de hayloft. The drunken little costdrawer and his brother, the cornet player. Highly respectable gondoliers! And skeweyed Walter sirring his father, no less. Sir. Yes, sir. No, sir. Jesus wept: and no wonder, by Christ!
I pull the wheezy bell of their shuttered cottage: and wait. They take me for a dun, peer out from a coign of vantage.
— It's Stephen, sir.
— Let him in. Let Stephen in.
A bolt drawn back and Walter welcomes me.
— We thought you were someone else.


'solicitor's cost drawer' or 'cost clerk' were job titles (click 'show all information')

♬ Highly respectable gondolier

Delaney: [105]

In his broad bed nuncle Richie, pillowed and blanketed, extends over the hillock of his knees a sturdy forearm. Cleanchested. He has washed the upper moiety. 

(May Murray Joyce's brother William Murray was in fact dying of syphilis)
1911:

— Morrow, nephew. Sit down and take a walk.
He lays aside the lapboard whereon he drafts his bills of costs for the eyes of Master Goff and Master Shapland Tandy, filing consents and common searches and a writ of Duces Tecum. A bogoak frame over his bald head: Wilde's Requiescat.


Wilde's Requiescat

Delaney: [106]

The drone of his misleading whistle brings Walter back.
— Yes, sir?
— Malt for Richie and Stephen, tell mother. Where is she?
— Bathing Crissie, sir.
Papa's little bedpal. Lump of love.
— No, uncle Richie...
— Call me Richie. Damn your lithia water. It lowers. Whusky!

— Uncle Richie, really...
— Sit down or by the law Harry I'll knock you down.
Walter squints vainly for a chair.
— He has nothing to sit down on, sir.
— He has nowhere to put it, you mug. Bring in our Chippendale chair. Would you like a bite of something? None of your damned lawdeedaw airs here. The rich of a rasher fried with a herring? Sure? So much the better. We have nothing in the house but backache pills. 


nowhere to put it

All'erta!

He drones bars of Ferrando's aria de sortita. The grandest number, Stephen, in the whole opera. Listen.


(jump to 1:20)

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[Linkrot in Blogger]

It's heartbreaking to go back over these pages and discover that some links are already broken (eg G&S at Google Books).

Maintaining FW links is comparatively trivial: almost everything's keyed to FW1 pagenumbers. In comparison, Ulysses links have to be handcrafted and so individually stained with the maintainer's blood.

The ways of Google are mysterious and terrifying-- presumably they post generous previews of in-print books until the publisher complains, or makes some new deal. So all we can do is cross our fingers that what's linkable today will still be linkable tomorrow.

I'm concerned that some of my mp3 links have suspicious ID numbers in their urls that hint they're volatile, and I may have to go back and redo them.

Archive.org is also a cross-your-fingers deal, I fear.

Youtube like GoogleBooks is vulnerable to copyright trolling.

[The riddle of Stephen's path in Proteus]

(here's a theory that assumes Hades starts before Proteus)


This 1902 map reveals how completely the geography of Sandymount Strand has changed:

1909 map

The white-circled red paddle is where Leahy's terrace used to meet the sand: "They came down the steps from Leahy's terrace prudently, Frauenzimmer: and down the shelving shore flabbily, their splayed feet sinking in the silted sand.... Like me" Stephen is also on sand, anywhere east, southeast, or even north or a little northwest of them. If they're facing northeast, "came down" may mean he's northeast? And could "Like me" imply he also just came down those steps?

Was there an 'Irishtown strand' north of ["Am I walking into eternity along"] Sandymount strand?

"Broken hoops on the shore; at the land a maze of dark cunning nets; farther away chalkscrawled backdoors and on the higher beach a dryingline with two crucified shirts. Ringsend: wigwams of brown steersmen and master mariners. Human shells. ¶ He halted. I have passed the way to aunt Sara's. Am I not going there? Seems not. No-one about. He turned northeast and crossed the firmer sand towards the Pigeonhouse."

If he's facing Ringsend while standing on sand, he must be facing west/northwest. Sara lives (we think) on Strasburg Terrace, northwest of Leahy's. So where's the "way" he's passed??? Was there a wall with stairs at Leahy's but no stairs at Strasburg? So could the "way" have been some stairs inbetween, or even northwest of Strasburg?

'Rose' (reg req) argues (I think) that "towards the Pigeonhouse" must mean towards the Pigeonhouse Road, and the turn takes place as Stephen passes Strasburg heading northwest from Leahy's, after earlier heading southeast from Strasburg to Leahy's.

'Rose' also tries to deduce Stephen's startingpoint by means of public-transportation schedules, which doesn't (alas) resolve the basic in-episode-path problem-- we still can't even be sure if Bloom's sighting occurs before, during, or after Proteus-proper.

The clue in Hades where Bloom spots Stephen from Watery Lane must be necessary, complicated by this additional passage from Eolus: "Wonder is that young Dedalus the moving spirit. Has a good pair of boots on him today. Last time I saw him he had his heels on view. Been walking in muck somewhere. Careless chap. What was he doing in Irishtown?" 'Rose' argues the muck could indicate Stephen arrived in Irishtown post-Proteus via the then-under-construction Ringsend Park. But lines-of-sight seem to require Stephen was very close to Watery Lane at this point.

Alternately, Simon's rant in Hades: "— Down with his aunt Sally, I suppose, Mr Dedalus said, the Goulding faction, the drunken little costdrawer and Crissie, papa's little lump of dung, the wise child that knows her own father." might synch with Stephen's imagining: "My consubstantial father's voice. Did you see anything of your artist brother Stephen lately? No? Sure he's not down in Strasburg terrace with his aunt Sally? ...The drunken little costdrawer... Crissie, sir. Papa's little bedpal. Lump of love."

In Eumeus, DB Murphy says his ship arrived at (roughly?) 11am, which seems to date the end of Proteus to just before this: "Moving through the air high spars of a threemaster, her sails brailed up on the crosstrees, homing, upstream, silently moving, a silent ship."

"along by the boulders of the south wall... The flood is following me. I can watch it flow past from here. Get back then by the Poolbeg road to the strand there. He climbed over the sedge and eely oarweeds and sat on a stool of rock, resting his ashplant in a grike... In long lassoes from the Cock lake the water flowed full"

According to the 1902 map, Cock Lake meets the boulders of the south wall at the Pigeonhouse, a mile from Leahy's steps. But the road back is always called Pigeonhouse road, never Poolbeg road. And Cock Lake probably shifted from week to week like Proteus...?

Could Stephen then walk a mile from the Pigeonhouse to Watery lane by 11:10am?


debate
pix

Page 38 (3.25-62) "Open... brother"

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Open your eyes now. I will. One moment. Has all vanished since? If I open and am for ever in the black adiaphane. Basta! I will see if I can see.
See now. There all the time without you: and ever shall be, world without end.

Delaney: [97]

They came down the steps from Leahy's terrace prudently, Frauenzimmer: and down the shelving shore flabbily, their splayed feet sinking in the silted sand. Like me, like Algy, coming down to our mighty mother. Number one swung lourdily her midwife's bag, the other's gamp poked in the beach. From the liberties, out for the day. Mrs Florence MacCabe, relict of the late Patk MacCabe, deeply lamented, of Bride Street. One of her sisterhood lugged me squealing into life.

Leahy's terrace
1909 map

not quite authentic

Dickens' Sarah Gamp w/eponymous gamp umbrella

Liberties 1895

Liberties 1913

Delaney: [98]

Creation from nothing. What has she in the bag? A misbirth with a trailing navelcord, hushed in ruddy wool. The cords of all link back, strandentwining cable of all flesh. That is why mystic monks. Will you be as gods? Gaze in your omphalos. Hello! Kinch here. Put me on to Edenville. Aleph, alpha: nought, nought, one.


Edenville

Delaney: [99]

Spouse and helpmate of Adam Kadmon: Heva, naked Eve. She had no navel. Gaze. Belly without blemish, bulging big, a buckler of taut vellum, no, whiteheaped corn, orient and immortal, standing from everlasting to everlasting. Womb of sin.


"The corn was orient and immortal wheat, which never should be reaped, nor was ever sown. I thought it had stood from everlasting to everlasting." [etext]

Delaney: [100]

Wombed in sin darkness I was too, made not begotten. By them, the man with my voice and my eyes and a ghostwoman with ashes on her breath. They clasped and sundered, did the coupler's will. From before the ages He willed me and now may not will me away or ever. A lex eterna stays about Him.


1908 notebook: "Jesus: The dove above his head is the lex eterna which overshadows the mind and will of God."
1920 Oxen notesheet: "Fucker obliges God to create"

Delaney: [101]

Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son are consubstantial? Where is poor dear Arius to try conclusions? Warring his life long on the contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality. Illstarred heresiarch! In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: euthanasia. With beaded mitre and with crozier, stalled upon his throne, widower of a widowed see, with upstiffed omophorion, with clotted hinderparts.

Hamlet III.iv "To try conclusions"

contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality

widowed see = lacking a bishop

Delaney: [102]

Airs romped around him, nipping and eager airs. They are coming, waves. The whitemaned seahorses, champing, brightwindbridled, the steeds of Mananaan.
I mustn't forget his letter for the press. And after? The Ship, half twelve. By the way go easy with that money like a good young imbecile. Yes, I must.


Hamlet I.iv "It is a nipping and an eager air."

Delaney: [103]

His pace slackened. Here. Am I going to Aunt Sara's or not? My consubstantial father's voice. Did you see anything of your artist brother

1909 map

the Murray faction in 1901, 1911

consubstantial father's sig

JAJ had warned his parents 7 years earlier: "The subject of [Sudermann's 'Magda'] is genius breaking out in the home and against the home. You needn't have gone to see it. It's going to happen in your own house."

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[Wrestling with Proteus]

Stephen takes seriously Aristotle's theory of light/color/vision/translucence, and ignores utterly the modern scientific view of atoms and electromagnetic vibrations.

Berkeley to Patrick, 1923:
"The archdruid then explained
the illusion of the colourful world,
its furniture,
animal,
vegetable
and mineral,
appearing to fallen men
under but one reflection
of the several iridal gradations of solar light,
that one which it had been unable to absorb
while for the seer beholding reality,
the thing as in itself it is,
all objects showed themselves
in their true colours,
resplendent with the sextuple glory
of the light actually contained within them."

For Joyce there must be some supreme riddle hidden here, more deeply than anyone's guessed.

"Ineluctable [impossible to struggle out of]
modality
of the visible:
at least that
if no more,
thought through my eyes.
Signatures of all things
I am here to read...
coloured signs.
Limits of the diaphane...
in bodies."

[G&S] 'Aristotle: the ear participates in (and thus can modify) the substance of what it hears, but the eye does not... sound and taste involve a "becoming" or intermixture of substance and form, in the perceptual image'
'the substance of a thing perceived by the eye is not present in the form or color of the perceptual image (in contradistinction to sound and taste)'
we now view both light and sound as vibrations with very similar properties: color/pitch/wavelength, brightness/loudness/amplitude. the two eardrums allow minimal stereo separation, compared to the eye's lens with thousands of 'eyedrums'
so how can the ear "modify the substance of what it hears"???
is he saying 'light is weightless'?

nacheinander: sequential in time (sound)
nebeneinander: side-by-side (vision)

the diaphane (the translucent medium) is 'not something peculiar to air or water, or any of the other bodies usually called translucent, but is a common 'nature' and power, capable of no separate existence of its own, but residing in them, and subsisting likewise in all other bodies to a greater or lesser degree... But it is manifest that, when the Translucent is in determinate bodies, its bounding extreme [limit] must be something real; and that colour is just this 'something' we are plainly taught by facts-- colour being actually either at the external limit, or being itself that limit, in bodies... It is therefore the Translucent, according to the degree in which it subsists in bodies (and it does so in all more or less), that causes them to partake of colour. But since the colour is at the extremity of the body it must be at the extremity of the Translucent in the body'
so all colored bodies have some degree of translucence in them, the more translucence the less color? and the color is at the real boundary-limit of the body...?

what were the translucent substances known to Aristotle? air, water, ice, oil, honey, amber, crystals, glass, jellyfish? which of these had he witnessed transforming to greater or lesser translucence, when heated or cooled or mixed or whatever?
we now explain that translucence in terms of electron orbitals that absorb, reflect, or transmit various frequencies of light. are there general principles for how to increase or decrease translucence? did Aristotle hope there were?

isn't Stephen asking very different questions than Aristotle intended, about reality and art? for Joyce, one of the most critical insights was about language... as a form of signature?

Page 37 (3.1-24) "Ineluctable... deline the mare."

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Delaney: [90]

Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought through my eyes.

Berkeley's idealism will be parodied again in one of the first Finnegans Wake vignettes, with St Patrick as the opposition

Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs.

of the five classic sense modalities, is sight somehow the most 'ineluctable'? you can close your eyes, plug your ears and nose, close your mouth and withhold your touch. is it ineluctable because you can't make yourself invisible??

'at least' the modality of vision is ineluctable, even if none of the other sense modalities are??? is vision ineluctable because we can 'think it through our eyes', ie imagine visions more vividly than other senses???

"I am here to read" like any of us, he is on this planet, bearing witness (but so what?)

"The Signature of All Things" by Jacob Boehme [etext] [wiki]
(is he calling their symbolic/poetic values 'signatures'? tide/boot/color/substance?)

seaspawn = birth (Joyce's coinage?)
seawrack = death

1917: "Ineluctable modality of the visible: it must be that at least if no more. My eyes do not see it: they think it rather than see. These signs I am read and reader: furrows of seawrack, the tide coming in, that rusty boot. Bottlegreen, bluesilver, rust. Yes, coloured signs, limits of the diaphane."

Delaney: [91]

Limits of the diaphane.

(probably three syllables, not four, because it's not italicised)
the transparent vs the opaque/colored

Delaney: [92]

But he adds: in bodies. Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a millionaire, maestro di color che sanno. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it it is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see.


"Now it is in the transparent medium apart from its limits that light has its being; but it is clear that the boundary of the transparent element which exists in bodies is something real." Aristotle "De Sensu" (Stephen ponders an English translation?)

this sounds like touch is more ineluctable than vision?

"When I had lifted up my brows a little, The Master I beheld of those who know, Sit with his philosophic family. All gaze upon him, and all do him honour." (Dante, Inferno)

1917: "But he adds: in bodies. Then he has become aware of them before of their colours. How? By knocking his head against them. Go easy. Yes, he was bald and a multimillionaire, maestro di color che sanno. Wait now: limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it is a gate, if you cannot it is a door. Shut your eyes and see."

Delaney: [93]

Stephen closed his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and shells. You are walking through it howsomever. I am, a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short times of space. Five, six: the nacheinander. Exactly: and that is the ineluctable modality of the audible. Open your eyes. No. Jesus! If I fell over a cliff that beetles o'er his base, fell through the nebeneinander ineluctably.


"Laocoön, or On the Limits of Painting and Poetry" by Lessing
nacheinander = succeeding each other, one after another [pronun] [trans]
nebeneinander = side by side, next to one another [pronun]

1917: "Stephen closed his eyes hearing his boots crushing the crackling wrack and shells. You are walking through it anyhow. Yes I am: a foot at a time. Five, six: the nacheinander. Exactly: and that is the ineluctable modality of the audible. Open your eyes. No. Jesus! If I fell over a precipice now. Fell through the Nebeneinander. Ineluctably."

Hamlet I.iv, and p18 above

Delaney: [94]

I am getting on nicely in the dark. My ash sword hangs at my side. Tap with it: they do. My two feet in his boots are at the ends of his legs, nebeneinander. Sounds solid: made by the mallet of Los demiurgos. Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand?

1909 map

1917: "I am getting on very nicely in the dark. My two feet are at the ends of my two legs: nebeneinander. Solid no doubt: made by the hammer of Los. Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand?"

Delaney: [95]

Crush, crack, crick, crick. Wild sea money. Dominie Deasy kens them a'.

Won't you come to Sandymount,
Madeline the mare?

(longshot: folk lyric 'Won't you come to bed with me...?')

Delaney: [96]

Rhythm begins, you see. I hear. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. No, agallop: deline the mare.


"Acatalectic" (ie 8 syllables) ought here to be "A catalectic" (ie 7 syllables) [debate]

1917: "Crush, crack, crick, crick.

    Won't you come to Sandymount
    Madeline the mare?

Rhythm is beginning, you see. I hear. Marching iambs. No agallop: deline the mare."

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