Book IV, structural analyses, the latest.

Paragraph by paragraph

Units of Book IV.

593.01-595.34: dawn invoked, the world wakes up, but HCE sleeps still.

593.01-.24:

594.01-595.02

595.02-.34

595.34-597.22: it is considered how Shaun will replace him.

595.34-596.33: the child Shaun described, heir of his father: his
attributes.

596.34-597.22: HCE reflects on alternatives, like this one of Shaun's
replacing him.

597.23-600.04: HCE's reflections on time and space as he wakes up.

597.23-598.16: he turns over and starts to welcome the day after the
confusing night.

598.17-599.02: he reflects on time and change.

599.04-.22: and thinks how the cycles came up to the present.

599.23-600.04: with a final reflection on our ignorance of the existence of
time and space.

600.05-604.26: Shaun is introduced, the replacer, leading up to the story
of St. Kevin.

600.05-601.03: at the pool, a tree grows, and flowers; Patrick/Shaun
worships there.

601.04-602.08: the city appears under the waters, and the 29 girls and the
narrator all call for Kevin/Shaun.

602.09-603.33: And Shaun comes along with the post, and breakfast tray,
hoping to fall in with girls and fantasizing HCE's funeral as gangster--and
being a baker, he thinks of how everybody (officials, hypocritically)
abominates HCE, who is however Parnell (and Shaun knows it).

603.34-604.26: Back to Kevin: we look at the stained glass window, get
noises from outside, and are introduced to the vignette to follow.

604.27-607.22: the isolation of St. Kevin.

604.27-605.03: intro: we tell the miracles of Kevin

605.04-606.12: Kevin takes a bath

606.13-607.27: HCE tries to tell the best he can of himself, despite that
truly good example.

607.23-609.23: Transition to Patrick and the Druid.

607.23-608.16: maybe by contrast, HCE again fears being accused of his
crimes and laughed at.

608.17-608.36: but if Shaun accuses, Shem wakes him with tea, and he passes
from sleep.

609.01-.23: but sleep was nice, there with the 4 and the ass: one lived in
memory, like Proust, and the messenger of the rising sun (Patrick) will
give everthing a hue.

609.24-613.14: St. Patrick and the Arch-Druid Berkeley.

609.24-610.33: Muta and Juva introduce it (and back off).

610.34-612.36: the contention itself.

613.01-.14: all are converted (but it's just a reordering).

613.15-.16: The third window: St. Laurence O'Toole gives a benediction.

613.17-615.10: Last words to HCE on facing life.

613.17-.26: there is growth throughout nature, and you should eat your
breakfast.

613.27-614.13: you've got work to do, but nothing is lost--the laundry gets
done.

614.14-.26: in a sense, going asleep into the day: forget the night,
continue. forget.

614.26-615.10: the pivotal moment, last words to HCE: the vicocylometer
recombines things, and brings life piping hot to you.

615.11-618.19: The Revered Letter (which contradicts HCE's advice).

615.11-617.05: ALP defends HCE against accusations (which she shows she
believes, however, as well as involuntarily acknowledging her own fault).

617.06-.29: Tries to end, asks for funeral, but shows ambivalence: trying
to "remember" the night.

617.30-618.34: defends herself against the charge of being seduced (as
615.11--617.29 had defended him), saying it's the younger ones acting like
that.

618.35-619.19: lays claim to the cakes as from HCE (not Michael) and says
explicitly that the younger selves are noble not treacherous.

Then her monologue (see other structure file).

Book IV, paragraph by paragraph analysis. [This is from 1992, which I am
using as a basis to update in 1994--I'll probably just scrap the original
when done] [remember that another summarizing version is on the page-tops,
and yet another in the bk4_sum.gv file, that one more of an overview.
Moreover, some of the best fine-tunings are in the noces files, at the
moment bk4noce2.gv.

593.01¶: [wonderful opener]: calls from police cars, BBC, all of nature,
for Finn MacCool to wake up--a resurrection of "Earwicker to the whole
bloody world"--as if they see him and cry Thalatta Thalatta (the leader the
leader): he's to be "baallad" (bailed) out from the humus. And a press
release to 'churchen' (churches and tribes), that Genghis is good for you
[i.e. telling the world it will be good when Finn wakes up.]

593.19: a hand emerges, holding a chart--the Finnegan crest.

593.20-4¶. He speaks who is "eversower of the seeds of light" to the dead
(or at least to those who are in the dormitory of deafmute, i.e. asleep);
he speaks after the night of Shaun carrying the Word and Shem retreating,
'cuddling up in a stewpot'. He is the Sunrise, lord of risings in Dublin,
light triumphant. use whole page 593, wonderful.

594.01¶. (It just said the god Sunup speaks, but this continues to an
invocation to the god--this could go together, we could be told the god
speaks, and then hear an invocation though he is speaking): Sir, scatter
light for the renewal of the sky; Be!, for Arthur is coming. The dead
(those killed by chisels and Celts) will rise. We Dubliners ask thee,
sovereign sir, let light lead us tomorrow on to hope (from our "astamite",
whatever that is), but hunt for us today the destroyer, Kali, to take his
path through the land of dreams (and presumably get rid of them). Come even
unto Dublin: now if someone fetches soap and water we can clean up this
Woeful Dane's bottom [HCE as a little child to be cleaned up for the day].
But charity begins at home and we're talking as much about me as about him
(Meins vs Peins, 'as of yours.') Quick as a wink hearts leap alive. The god
of light first lights up Finn's Hill of Allen and then knocks sparks out of
the tiny hearths. (more a report than an address now, at .21) Dawn's spear
touches the stone circles in New Ireland sacred to Poseidon. Ghostly forms,
including even Great Danes, get solider in the gloom, and sniff legs. But
why put the dog as the symbol of overcoming night (June 3, 1997: it does
seem nice and vivid, the dog checking things out without much attention to
niceties (byelaws) first thing in the morning)? The cock crows, and the hen
gets no cricket runs, but calls the chambermaid, porter, and waiter, and
thus sunlight turns out night (.33). sentence .33 grammar?: something about
robbing sailors at christmas, and the tailor cursing but silenced (in the
morning?) -- or something about dancing in the evening and silenced in the
morning. Anyway: death kills but the dumb and the hills speak 595.02.
Namely, Howth hill stretches his limbs clear to New Ireland and the bride
of the brine, shin high, is readier than ever for a dance with her father
[note woman as bride and daughter, as at the end], and we'll presently hear
the 29 girls pleasing your majesty. It's a long way to Tipperary and New
Ireland, for all sorts of food and all the Irish counties. [So again the
speaker asks] Lead on, cromlech (standing stone, maybe Cromwell, i.e. HCE,
and note how a cromlech makes the HCE siglum) (18). I.e., the 29 girls are
going to wake up, but it's a 'long long ray' {i.e., it's hard to overcome
night} to wake up everybody, so HCE should lead. It's good that Burton
withdrew his theory about the Nile's source [so we can go to the right
place?], and it's good this isn't boring you, because we seem to
understand, in the presence of the Wellington Monument, how (amid all the
junk of things and grammars) research into the midden has 'gone to prove'
that although generations are buried in 'deeper eras' (.28), in fact
"buried hearts rest here' (and presumably can be awakened). And 1994 it
seems clear that it's basically saying that despite all this focus on New
Ireland the real Ireland is what's important, where you should wake up.

Looking at the first draft it is plainer: the passage is simply saying the
sun rises, touches Ireland and especially the monolith, and HCE is asked to
wake up since buried hearts rest here [so presumably he can save us].

Cock a doodle doo! But he goes on sleeping, and ok, He Can Ease himself
till they take down the shutter from the shop, and we have a "full stop".
[Taking down the shutter implies the Prankquean sequence--that is, as the
man tends to bar the woman, this is saying she's going to have to call him
to get him waked up--which is what happens, if it does.]

595.33¶: The "friarbird" thus goes "4 o'clock" (which is what friarbirds in
Australia do), and "Syd" or "South" is listening to this call which has
also been a radio broadcast from the start--that is, the previous call for
sunrise (and for the resurrection of the savior) is addressed to the South,
where Shaun has gone in Book III--the coming of day is his return (though I
don't get why it's from the South).

595.34¶. [This was a paragraph in the first draft, and clearly changes the
subject and starts a new unit.] The child was kidnapped [Prankquean, thus
locked to 'shutter' above], [this is Shaun, say R&O'H] and is described
lots of ways, clearly being a version of HCE: Humpty Dumpty, Finn,
Protestant, Russian, Parnell, in a barrel (but thereby Shaun), earwig,
stutterer, constellation (cf. 475.12), Patrick, etc., but this time an HCE
reborn and remade as 'serene, synthetical, Swift'.

596.34¶. The return of the Scandinavian HCE (also figured as Jacob, and
whoever it is who got the dew on the fleece miracle), as sun, will make a
new man, will resurrect. Indeed, we've been asleep and are just about to
roll over. In other words, things are about to change (with waking--which
gets figured here as a staying asleep!)--that seems very very strange,
because life's stream is one long trance. So why the change? Because there
are two sides and each one has to have its turn, and all dreams, of
whichever kind, finally are true--there's a kind of systole/diastole and
everybody goes through it. Why? "Search me" (which makes the speaker Shem,
unsurprisingly since in this half of the book Shem talks about Shaun as
opposed to vice versa in the first half). [The two sides are heaven and
hell, right and wrong, cooperation/unity/ALP/Issy and
competition/conflict/HCE/twins, see the file bk4noces.gv for more
exposition, but from before: right and wrong (or making:'wright' and
feeling 'wronged'), an active one of gin palace, bazaar, and bathhouse, and
a passive one of alcove and rosegarden, pure poetry. On the one is bed and
breakfast (and cat and bird), parricide and sex, on the other is buying and
selling, contest, enmity]. And he wonders why, and decides everything
follows in due course (every dog has his day), and all dreams come true,
wherever you doze (and everybody knows). And the final reason for the
opposition is a mystery.

597.24. After he turns over, he feels a shaft of cold air [R&O'H say he
exposes his arse] and thinks that the draft, sort of blending a resty and a
journeyish jumpiness, is a hint of the world of illusion or variability
we've just investigated, a window on the marvelous difference just as the
dance of a bird is a whole world (to the cat watching, I think, as above).

597.31: I think HCE goes on thinking, as he wakes. He describes the day
outside, getting better temperature and all. He locates himself in the real
world (you've eaten the forbidden fruit, you've eating the salmon of
wisdom), and the boundless solidities of dream disappear. It all seemed
solid, but no sound of them since. The night seems a sleepwalking toward
the sources of the Nile (cf. 595.18), which become again riddles, nothings
(with I think "Alberths neantas" also meaning that the berths where the
ships lay i dream are empty). He thinks it's been a long and confusing
night, and welcomes the day which is coming , which opens like the lotus
(so that he is grateful that Europe meets India thus--which is to say that
now that the ear's open, ends meet again, things come full circle.)

598.17-599.02 He goes on thinking as he wakes a little, about how there's
'something supernoctural' (supernatural, but also 'more than just the
night', more significant than just dreaming) about sleep and the night: ad
now bread and wine aren't interchangeable as words, things don't shift and
shapechange in day but are absolutely themselves just as an "utter",
absolute fellow has followed on an "odder" fellow of the night. And al that
old business, business of yesterday, which has gotten stale, can be given
up, pitchers break, we can turn pictures to the wall, and the last word
learned from the night, from camping out and comparing acoustics then and
now, is that there can be a kind of Nazi forcefulness in getting up
(strength through joy), and turning to eye for an eye retributions.

The repeats of "Tom" and "Tim" indicate he's continuing to be called, as
does the repetition of "Adya", Sanskrit "now".

And 598.28ff he thinks about locating precisely in time, hours minutes
seconds, in terms of the ages [like the locating self in Portrait], and
this one, the age of him and his wife and children and neighbors etc.

599.04-600.04 He again asks the time, being a bit more wakeful, and in
effect considers it in terms of how we got here, the path our fathers
pounded: animals trod a path to the present, and the Viconian cycles
happened, and now here we are in a more or less stable and settled social
state (and he reproaches himself for being testy, saying it's the stomach
trouble, and be relieved there's a tavern to make him feel better).

Moreover (new ¶, 599.25), he reflects (in an easier style) on how we work
under a cloud of unknowing, things change, and how the 'gist of the
pantomime' is that Father Time and Mother Space "boil their kettle with
their crutch".

600.05-601.03: R&O'H say we are being focussed on the ALP pool in the
mountains, first being told about the cycles of water and fog and water,
and that this is like the loves which make cycles from cannibal kings to
moguls. The pool is between the Delta and Sagittarius, and once we
wash/live in it, it's hale and farewell, for it's the river of lives, which
regenerates all from Finn and Anna, in the domain however of the cursed
Norse race. And there at the pool Tom Dick and Harry turned the first sod:
an almond tree grows, and the flowers are like bloomers. And there too is a
big bare rock, (HCE's bum, say R&O'H), looking like it needs a butcher's
apron to cover it. And it and the flowers tell Patrick it's the right place
for religious services--and so the naked yogi priest or bog-priest (R&O'H
say Shaun, but it looks like Patrick), do water-rites. [The point is, I
think, that the natural pool is getting taken over by Patrick and what he
stands for--vide infra. But R&O'H say it has been revealed that the stone
is Shaun, making water in the morning in the pool. These probably the same,
Shaun is Patrick.]

601.04-602.09: The city under Lough Neagh (and it seems the city of Issy,
as it is of Ys, with much about her doubling, "sosay", and becoming the 29
girls, also I think Krishna's dairymaids), appears under the waters. Earth
sighs to heaven, and the 29 girls respond,, all connected to Dublin
churches, calling for Kevin (Shaun, Patrick). And the narrator tells him to
come out of his bed, his stone or tree, and shine for them (.32). He is to
cast sorrow aside (FDV: "Cast soros aside") and irrigate all the
archipelagos (the water-rite being talked about is peeing in the pool early
in the morning, I get more convinced.) And he specifies this isn't lithe
slender Shem he's talking about, but Diarmaid-like curly-headed,
perfect-proportioned Shaun.

602.09-603.33: In Irish tale style (copying style of the Diarmaid story) we
hear about Kevin (Coemghen). The dreamer thinks of Kevin coming along, hero
like Diarmaid [but note that the voice is of Roga, 'the voice is of Jacob':
I think McHugh's claim that the $/\ valences have changed is right, this is
now Jacob as $/\ not as $C [less sure of that in '94]), to replace him, and
fantasizes news stories of HCE's funeral (reported by Sackerson, the
Porter), replaced by Shaun; then thinks of Shaun coming along carrying the
mail and breakfast, as if invading from overseas, thinking about falling in
with girls (and the girls being described a bit like the hen, i.e. coming
after his own girl), and smiling like the sun rising like the bacon and
eggs he's at the same time carrying (see 382.11) in for breakfast.

HCE receives Shaun gladly, the smells are so good (and he says "butter
butter" like "thalatta thalatta", the joy of getting out of the tight
spot--and the letter is surely in the mailbag) that he is ready for the
mail and to be relieved from the "emerald dark" (the eye disease)--he seems
to be saying (.08) that this (what Shaun is bringing him) is what's right
for bed, the eiderdown, but that (what the night has been) is how it is
when bourgeois types (like himself) go to the pillow (like Parnell) with an
"alter girl", the wrong one (in dreams, I think)--namely, that what happens
is like the confrontation with the cad, accusation of crime, and a feeling
of being gossiped about; it's almost like being dead (and visible only to
deer and darkies, as a ghost), but more like being accused of sexual
misconduct, and with young girls at that, not even grown women. There's a
sense of being accused of homosexuality, as usual, in the bringing in
hyacinths along with heliotropes, and in the "cuthulic church" which seems
to be libeling him and in which I hear "cul" (in some pronunciations of
Irish the "th" would be virtually silent and the word said "cul-ic", I
think), and I think there's panic, an urgency to wake up, in calling for
Fox-Goodman and his bell (which is always such a feature of the cad
encounter, and what in fact seems to relieve it or even end it). The
paragraph thus ends with what is in effect a cry for the Shaun who has just
shown up and occasioned this remembrance of the panicked dream just over
(and Shaun envisioned as Parnell, now in his uncrowned king not his thrown
to the wolves aspect--which is ok, since Shaun is obviously an aspect of
HCE, not a completely different "person" [Krishnamurti always said to
remember that we are all the characters in our dreams].

Ironically the dreamer goes on saying what an improvement Shaun is over
himself as others might think about it: as the singers sing, hardworking
straightahead postoffice officials (I'm about 603.11 here) who themselves
do a nightshift with Kitty O'Sheas in their nightshirt, they think what
nice weather for the Ides of March and assassination, ask what time is it
(a mocking echo) and if each other have heard HCE's crime, how he went
after girls like Parnell--and he thinks how Parnell died for it, of wet
feet, and as deer and darkies see became a ghost, so Great Heavens! And the
crime was going after mere girls, not women: ironically says how the
Catholic Church is saying there must be atonement but it was their fault
['94 not so sure of that], and curses out the peeler, the sound of the
bells (Fox Goodman again--time maybe, itself the killer), the hunting of
the fox: where oh where is Parnell, "the loved among many" (i.e., feeling
sorry for himself, but drawn out of himself too). [R&O'H read it that Shaun
brings the breakfast, HCE with a bad conscience virtually forces
recapitulation of the cad with the pipe scene, he asking the time question;
Shaun says he doesn't know and HCE insists he's been libelled and the
church must pay, and where is that bell which saved me before now that I
need it, and moreover where is Parnell].

603.34-604.26. [We've been (maybe) talking about HCE, how he is guilty and
maybe how he defends himself. Now] we switch to considering Kevin, as we're
told that we're looking at a stained glass window which the light is
beginning to reveal--but this Kevin is not Shaun, it is another view of HCE
here early in the morning, I think: the dreamer, with the sense of his
replacement almost on him, in effect has another dream about himself,
revealing his pomposity [and all of the forgoing was after all setup for
the already-written vignette, which was about HCE of course]. It is really
early, and though Finnegan (the vinebranch of Heremon...) is properly ready
still the public hours are still closed, the malt-house locked up, though
the soaks are waiting and lemon soda is available. It's not even time for
early Mass, and the trains and busses will soon start up out of Chapelizod.
Wait and be silent, Shem, and don't borrow "Roga's voice". That is,that
voice is specified as "Coemghen"'s on 602, and this Kevin will become
mostly HCE in the St Kevin story: so if he has Roga's voice it is saying
that he is still victim of "attachments" in the Hindu sense [and indeed on
602 we go on at once to list them, in the usual "outrage" terms via the
newspaper report]. Then Mr. Hurr Hansen [Shaun] comes in, and when we
return from him [for he, despite the usual Shaun/Kevin name, is not this
"Coemghen" who is after all an older model as the spelling implies] to
Coemghen and are about to get the St Kevin vignette, again he is told to
give up Roga's voice, to give up attachments [for we're about to get
(ironically) St. Kevin's purity]. Surely "the voice of Roga" is "the voice
of Jacob" [what else, with that form?], and it is Jerry, usually Shem, told
to adopt it no more. So in effect the dreamer is exhorting himself to give
up, on his Shem side, the trickery by which he tried to attain blessings,
and just wait patiently for the revelations "which aubrey our first shall
show" [.19-20]: that is, for the Aubrey-like revelations of a life brought
about by the dawn. In short: "I must suppress my Shem-side and be more
reverent about my Shaun-side". We are then told dramatically,in Latin, that
we are about to get a revelation of HCE: The church sings hagiographically
(i.e., we're going to get a presentation, of HCE as St. Kevin. Dawn will
show it, and the players will be who they are, right? ("what?", like an
Englishman). The paragraph concludes with a kind of introduction to the
set-piece to follow, with a crier's announcement (R&O'H say it's a radio
show), of a storm to follow.

ST. KEVIN

604.27-605.03. Intro., we are leaving the 'messy messy' to deal with the
life and miracles of Kevin.

605.04-606.12: Kevin comes to Glendalough, rafts his altar across the lake
to its island, right in the middle, to a little lake right on it and with
an island on it, and he builds a beehive hut there, and digs a hole in its
floor, and takes lake water to it with his portable altar/bath, and he
exorcises that water (sister water) and puts his bath in it with water in
it to mid height, and sits in it with his robe drawn up to his clerical
loins, and meditates on the "primal sacrament of baptism" or the
regeneration of man by water. the point is to pile up as much ridiculous
detail of heirarchies as possible to see what a mountain is made out of
this molehill--['94 and on the other hand to give this image of centering
and focussing which will be a contrast to the decentering so much more
characteristic of HCE and of us in the world]. In terms of
Kevin/Shaun/HCE's character, it shows basically pomposity. ('94: and I
think has to do with water and morning urination.)

606.13-607.22: ('94:) Having looked at HCE in his founding, centering,
aspect, we look at him now as he is there as Dublin beside the river,
having come from the sea in effect. We seem to be looking at Dublin from
Howth, after initial statement of ships at sea (and a closing down of the
ritual above): we see it and it seems the couple, the fruitful pair in bed;
and also he is described as the letter come from the earth, with its
Shem-like origins recalled (pen, ink, tattooed skin all in one)--it is
called "he", but is said to "come out of the soil" when the Prankquean
invites him, and is clearly HCE (reviving, waking up), described as his
hump, as parnell--when we sell him (like Parnell) we get a surprise, or
prize (.35-6): he provides us with baptism (as we've just seen in St.
Kevin?) and that's how we get to the Mass, and to identity (mishe mishe).
The great sin led to a great son--the gloved fist was part of it back in
the 12th century (1132?) and four watches (Mamalujo) present and rewrite
him as Jacob and Esau, cad and message-bearer, during (or in preparation
for or something) the changeovers of historical period. In fact, a man
(under the riddle of the universe) is (not so much a sham as a) Watch (a
time-marker, a process, a succession--man is made up of time). He's a
highway where there is death, drinking, and the blessing of death and
resurrection via lassies inciting their partners at Finnegan's Wake. Seems
very central: the soul is a watch, an embodiment of time and change.

('92): Not so different from the end, ALP passing life off to Issy, this
seems to accept he's been replaced.

And at 607.17, the dreaming of the Kevin story stops: HCE wakes up, next to
ALP, they say 'enough of old Nick', apologize for bumpting into each other
(and for accidental pressing of his dick into her daisy), and he says they
must extricate themselves from some contiguity couplings of the marriage:
now it's tea time (time for the title of the book, and Tetley tea too).

The point of the Kevin scene, then, is this: HCE has waked up, reflecting
on time and change and tormented by echoes of being charged and probably
guilty in all the usual ways, and finds he has to think about his
supplanter, the son who will get the girls and who seems so simple-mindedly
pious. And with that in mind, he reflects on how human life is in fact
change and he mumblingly tries to put the best face he can on his own life.

This definitely seems, in '94, to be the end of a unit, the first part of
the chapter, and as far as I can tell from FDV it is in fact a firt-draft
unit, or at least the end of one.

607.23-608.16 . The description of the day goes on, then, darkness recedes,
and, as in I.ii. , the sailor king (with two sidekicks, cf., 31.17-18)
appears to our hero who, like that first time, carries a cloud-capped
sunbonnet ('94, among other things has an erection), and is on his big
white harse, Tip. It seems clearly to involve the morning erection,
again--the "clout capped sunbubble" may also be the condom, since it seems
to be connected with the 39 articles, a sign of Protestantism as opposed to
Catholicism)--, and as the newspaper is asked to release this there's an
interjection to the GOM to "give your balls a rest".

But then this visitation seems to have been an illusion (which is objected
to under the breath as a matter of spiritualist bunkum) and again what HCE
sees is a version of the encounter in the park (as if every time he comes
close to waking up these memories and guilts get at him). The scene seems
to look (because of the fog, the moisture) like ghosts at a seance, of the
1, the 2, and the 3, Uncle Arth (Welsh 'bear', but Arthur returned again),
who has become a drygoods dealer and Swift's Drapier, the two nieces with
their drawers, and the three assessors, all Billy's; and surprised by
Sackerson in an indecorous position (as at 586.28ff, I think). i.e., the
figures, Dublin itself, visible in the sunrise, remind the dreamer of the
sin and the discovery: to wake like Arthur is to be discovered and accused.
And the dreamer worries that this was a nightmare, cries for no more of it,
and can hardly be reassured by mocking laughter. He asks again "Aren't I
Mister Ireland, and this Anna Livia", to be answered 'sure sure boss' (as
from the Brit. Ass. Adv. Sci.)

608.16-608.33. this accusation, made by Shaun's whole mien, is like a cry
of the thief (R&O'H say Shaun, the stone [Stena]), is that he'll be accused
in court ('the matter has been placed in the hands of our solicitors'), but
it is dispelled by the voice of Alina [R&O'H say Shem, the elm], 'little
wing' [the hen], who wakes the dreamer bringing tea (lots of Chinese sounds
to go with it). It's the brew with the future in it--did you see it? yes,
no, I seem to remember some such. [And what he remembers is] the pubic
triangle, and its rectangle as on p. 293, a wench lying in the tea leaves
with her feet turned up. Seems to be evidence of the coming into being of
the world (after sleep), as the tea leaves unfold. In the wake of the black
ship (of night, of sleep) going down, as holiday is over too, the phoenix
wakes from ashes, like the Egyptian creator, into 'fie foh fum' [i.e., go
get 'em]. [i.e., tea, visions of sex, a sense of purpose and future, wake
the dreamer and sink the ship of night]. And finishes with 'we are passing
from sleep, 1,2,3,4 (like being waked from a hypnotic trance, or perhaps
actually fromthe trance of the medium at the seance): but it seems to
reverse and not happen after all, with Luke's sigh of "oh dear oh dear" and
the absence of movement "But still", and again "And stay".

609.01-23. so he doesn't wake, he remembers instead how nice sleep was,
with people and gentry all mixed up, and the boys and girls all the time:
in fact, with the 4 and the ass. Memory plays over the places, like
Proust's, and he sinks closer to another show, this time where the
messenger of the rising sun (St. Patrick, as against the Chinese druid)
will give every seeable a hue etc. [I wonder: in fact it is the Druid who
tries to do that, Patrick does nothing but find evidence of the trinity in
the 7-colored rainbow.] ('94: yes, and isn't the Druid the messenger of the
rising sun, as against Christian Patrick? so this would make sense, the
dreamer wanting not Patrick but the Druid. but we'll see).

ST. PATRICK AND THE DRUID (Patrick's lighting the fire before the pagans do
is the next attempt to wake up--it's another form of the waking life
seeming to HCE to be overly pious, Shaun-like, to be a reproach to him.
Patrick the supplanter is confident, and is more like the established
Russian General type than the ostensibly governing Druids and high kings
are: thus the druid is Berkeley, Buckley, [see 610.13-14 for the proof of
the identifications], the one who gets outraged and sticks his thumb and
fingers up the ass when Patrick wipes himself with a shamrock and prays.
But this time Buckley/Berkeley loses).

609.24-610.33: Muta and Juva introduce the scene of contention. Patrick and
his bonzes at Slane lit the fire before the druids at Tara did. The king
has money on both sides, and while Juva plugs Patrick and Muta Berkeley,
they agree that from diversity comes conflict which leads to appeasement
again.

610.34-612.36. Tunc. Berkeley says most people see the one color an object
can't absorb, but the seer sees what the object retains in its true self
(to .24). Patrick doesn't understand, and Berkeley shouts louder, cussing
him out, saying each thing Leary wears is its own true color, all
different, right?, all green.

Punc. Patrick says Berkeley is color blind, and stupid, and he wipes his
nose with a shamrock handkerchief, and simply bows to the rainbow three
times to indicate the Trinity, symbol of the trinity, Father Son and Holy
Ghost.

It's too much for Berkeley to put up with, who was ready to shut the
shutter on the lamp of Jesus (that is, eclipse the sun). And he sticks his
thumb and four fingers up Patrick's ass (352.28.9).

613.01-.14: All the helots standing around are converted, as the sun stays
in the sky (Berkeley's magic didn't work, and Patrick made the sun come up
though it was sinking), and 'so for now, daylight', and let's hope that all
conflicts come out this well, and remind us so nicely of bacon and eggs
(the sun). But note, nothing has changed, only the order is 'othered'. As
it was, let it be. This seems accepting but reserved: I agree with whoever
it is says he feels the conversion is a loss, and Berkeley, crazy as he is,
makes better sense: at least he sees green everywhere he looks.

613.15-16: The third window: Laurence O'Toole gives his benediction,
briefly, after these two triumphs of Christianity (the irony of which is,
of course, that he sold out Ireland to the English).

613.17-26. Back to description of the coming of day, mostly addressed to
HCE and note, this couple of pages is the last specifically from or
addressed impersonally to his point of view--from here we turn to ALP,
first the letter then the monologue. This time botanical terms, growth amid
death, and the suggestion that eating your breakfast and defecating make
you healthy, and with no rancour.

613.27614.13: Health, chance and necessity are urged to arrive like a pig
in a poke. There's thunder, and this promises good Viconian cycles, and
you've got work to do: to finish the suit, tailor; to get the ship in port,
sailor. You've got to lead and follow. And as for you, women, you have to
decide about your reproductive future. But whichever you all are (ant or
grasshopper, bond or free, Mookse or Gripes), everything will be coming
back to you from the fruitful washhouse, as in I.viii, beautifully bleached
and ready (215.14-23). Nothing is lost, in mourning-land: "habit reburns",
the four virtues exist (614.09, cf 93.22), living is possible (614.09-10,
cf 215.24). and our clothes come clean, echoing the ending of I.iii.

614.14-26: And it continues with echoes from earlier, basically saying go
to sleep into the day, and forget the night: this is real climactic, this
Wagnerian accretion of motifs. Saying: blend 'un-notions'; 'forget,
remember'; things will be automatic, so 'it will remember itself from every
sides'. [Hard to summarize, but the feeling is clear, 614.20-25.]

614.27-615.10: So this final ¶ on HCE is actually about the book, and its
role: Our vicocyclometer (this book) gets through a side-vein the separate
elements of analysis for recombination so that the heroes and catastrophes
of the past (HCE, ALP), all the way back and charged with electrons, can be
there for you, old Sun (the crowing spirit), in the morning, letter by
letter and act by act, as sure as there's scribings on eggs (i.e., the
letter brought by the hen).

First part (of the '93 day), concerning HCE:

614.19ff: I need to look more at what immediately precedes, but seems to me
that the gist of this and "vicocylometer" paragraph is as an instruction to
HCE that he can himself forget the matters of guilt and the past with which
we've been so concerned--"Forget, remember!"--because what matters "will
remember itself", in the sense that what has been set in motion will carry
itself out. Did we think there'd be a more final version? Do we want an
open book? Why?--after all, everyone assembles in Dear Dirty Dublin by the
Liffey, and moreover, as far as there being a record, our vicocyclometer
(this book) gets through a side-vein (as a matter of a parallel reality, a
literary one) the separate elements for recombination so that the heroes
and catastrophes of the past (HCE, ALP), all the way back and absorbed into
each other, can be there for you, old Sun ('the crowing spirit'), in the
morning, letter by letter and act by act, as sure as there's scribings on
eggs (i.e., the letter brought by the hen). [That is, he is reborn as the
sun and as the crowing cock each morning, and the book brings the cycles
into reality enough so it isn't in fact lost; in fact, the two levels, of
reality and literature, as specifically set next to each other here: the
book recombines the elements so they can be "there for you", and that's the
literary side; likewise "herself pits hen to paper", i.e., the hen creates
the letter somehow, and it winds up being an egg written on much as Shem
writes on his skin. In short: the cycles recur, the book recreates their
"adomic structure", both are available for nourishment like breakfast.]
These are the last words to HCE--they say things come around again in all
their energy, that is the 'adomic structure' of Finnius the Old One: life
comes piping hot.

So much (i.e., the whole rest of the book before this) for causes--now for
effects (i.e., the letter itself).

In other words, this is a pivotal moment, balancing the pivotal moment
when, after having looked at the isolation of St. Kevin on the one hand and
the socially transformative victory of Patrick over the druid on the other,
we turned for a moment to the consequence, the illumination of that creep
Laurence O'Toole who sold out Ireland to the British--that moment seemed a
downer, that we were going to have to accept the world of piety and logic,
this seems to reverse that, and say that nonetheless the totality of the
fall-rise pattern is available to us through the cycles and through
literature which contains it all. Thus it is exactly the same 'say the
worst, take it back' pattern I noticed in III.iv last week.

615.11: So this was the explanation of the cause (the book, the cycles),
and the patterns and facts come "in effect. As", i.e, they 'come as' the
letter. That is, here's how it works that the cycles are continued, like
the book--we are about to see the action by ALP which in fact is the moving
force of those cycles, namely the letter (for woman makes the world go
round).

Second part, the ALP part:

The letter starts. (Addressed to Majesty, which R&O'H say is HCE as well as
who might pardon him). Thanks for nature, thanks for the passing of the
night. Those who speak ill of Earwicker will 'come to know good,' for they
should have been blessed like him with his two-handled warpon. She thinks
for a second of the ride on the tram we've had before (have to look it up),
which seems part of the Howth picnic, and when he woke up [I think, in '94]
it was to make love, that "jerk of the beamstark" is the movement of that
"warpon" which give her (maybe gives them) paradise lost, accomplished by
this man whom she praises for not watering the milk.

Given all that, (.28) since HCE is so good she says the sneaker and snake
in the grass McGrath should keep off (the grass)--her husband is a fine man
and grocer and husband, leave him alone-- saying that Magrath is the kind
of person who would sell 'bacon that harmed butter....margerseen oil.
Thinthin....": Eckley says 210 with regard to Mick, Nick and Maggies that
there's a reduction to margarine, a vegetable product without antecedents.
Gordon (p.58) says ALP protests too much about MacGrath, and thinks of a
forbidden other when coupling with HCE (584.05-6), and I agree that in
effect ALP is saying--though she denies that she could ever have done what
they say--that Magrath seduced her but this time genuinely thinking he's
bad for it, unfair, he broke the commandment and came on too strong. Though
she seems to think HCE was a bit weak (Irish 'fann': weak), still she calls
Magrath a 'nought in nought' (.02), an Irishman called by a Danish name
("Ervigsen by his first mate" i.e., called "eternal", so is that irony
about infidelity?--but since both of them are aspects of her husband no
wonder the ambivalences interreact).

At any rate, with an echo of "pipe" that suggests Magrath is the cad she
fantasies having someone kill him--when it's done there won't be enough to
make 3/75s of a man out of i.e., a tailor (in '92 [I write in '93], and I
note Gordon does too, I took all this as ambiguous between Magrath and
HCE--Gordon says she's trying to simplify down in waking and purging from
HCE his Shem-side, his disreputableness, which gives spice to the dream but
which is also troublesome [and in '94 that does feel right on the money].
And it does feel as if she's cutting off a part of HCE and scapegoating it,
in this 'Magrath'. Moreover, she revels in that thought: how "delitious"
(crime and delight) for the 3 and what a "sellpriceget" for the 2
(616.10-11: see 584.10)--i.e. like Parnell's irony: if Magrath were shot it
would be a recognition of fall [as she has fallen, and as Parnell was
falling] with a kind of triumph implicit in it (the irony of getting the
price, making something of it, saving something from the ruins)! She likes
thinking of their eating lead, these prostitutes who sell themselves. But
(.12) "Peace!" , i.e., 'enough of this fantasy, and she says HCE's valence
is high (following the chemical language), and she lists his attractive
attributes for salesladies (616.15), and goes on to warn off the girls,
also snakes like MacGrath, and castigate their exposing themselves.

616.19¶: the ambiguity continues concerning the "coerogenal hun" (which
again in effect admits to linking Magrath to herself, since she's the hen
and he, though a hun, is equally erotic to her--though actually since it
spells out CEH I get more convinced '94 that it is both, and she's
expressing ambivalence about her husband and projecting the bad parts in
part off onto Magrath): she starts off seeming to say MacGrath couldn't
hold a job, but from the start it might be HCE (and clearly is with
"Stuttutistics"), and her praise of sexual prowess is ambivalent between
them; as she goes on the main point of the paragraph is to answer the three
soldiers charge: she excuses him for what the military (the 3) accuse him
of, saying he was only trying to cure the king's evil (I think the scene in
front of the inn and in the park are conflated, maybe always are part of
the same thing) --R&O'H say it's a feeble excuse for his wanting to touch
them. And continuing on with the actual sequence in the park, she explains
how it was the will of God that he ran up the stairs (R&O'H say he hides
behind the Wellington Monument), possessing the "giantstand' (erection
surely?) which however he thus conceals in a stand of trees (or behind the
monument), and claims that he has become "balladproof" against the "ballad
of Persse O'Reilly" so that no hail or ice or mistletoe (what was thrown
against Baldur--and of course what is thrown against HCE after the ballad
circulates) can "perce" him (and remember "Magrath he's my pegger" 584.06).
So thinking that she's answered the charges and the ballad she can close,
though she points a moral which makes a doubt: asks him if he made the
servant pregnant, he says his cheek is a blank (no blush) and his check a
blank (he hasn't paid her off). And (I think) she draws the 'Meaning:' four
fingers and thumb ("plumb") up the pants of his arse (like 352.28-9 and
612.34-5) [i.e., she knows he's guilty all along]. And she tries to close:
our best again to 111 and 1001, and thanks Majesty for all the kindness
(617.05).

But she goes on to say (617.06) that all's well at home (it seems like one
of the efforts to close it all off before it really can be done), and that
Magrath is no big problem, and can be forgotten: probably quoting Aristotle
again, like 110.11-21, she says it's impossible to remember persons in
improbable to forget events and positions, and denies that she's doing so
by asking who would conjure up such a person (or invent him while on their
pillow [617.9-10])--but the effect is that she is talking about HCE under
the description of the snake the MacCrawl brothers, the mystery man in the
Phoenix Park murders. (That is, she's simply saying everything's fine, and
then going on to imply that it isn't, that she feels ambivalent about HCE
as Finn MacCool). Like Vercingetorix and Caractacus, enemies of Rome, by
now both Beckett and O'Toole have changed characters during their blackout
[during the night? or during the period of being unconscious which is the
result of the blow in II.3?] and have become "Timsons", children of
Finnegan, Irish. Her ambivalence is turning to hostility, since it's
clearly HCE's funeral she's talking about: this ought to wake him up (the
letter itself?), and the fool will need all his murdering helpers just to
dress. (remember, she had liked the idea of shooting him at 616.07). She
relishes the idea of getting rid of his "daylives", and having a funeral
for him, the snake (even if "fing him aging" implies Finnegan and
resurrection]. The King will be welcome, and it will be in the papers, pen
and post agreeing (that is, this funeral she hostilely envisages is of and
attended by both majesty and the two sons--her resentment extends over all,
correctly since they're the same thing. And the 28 females (as from 28 to
12, i.e. 11:32, i.e., HCE), all will hear the parson pour forth further
morals (further than the one on 616.34) and miracles, and she ends inviting
the King to come and help "witness to this day to hand in sleep" (i.e.,
help bring it about):

'94 summary (and for an even tighter one see the file bk4_sum.gv, as well
as the year supplements below): What she's basically doing is trying to
displace the disreputable Magrath, who is nonetheless an aspect of her
husband, and at the same time have a funeral which will be remembered, and
maybe the occasion for a rising again, like the Wake. The "Don't
forget...Remember" (which is an instruction to remember) of 617.25-6
opposes the "Forget. Remember" (which is an instruction to forget) of
614.20,22: she is saying 'be explicit about dealing with the buried (in
sleep) material (like the ambivalence), consciously have its funeral"
(though even as she says to remember it she reveals the ambivalence), and
he was saying (or being told) 'the tailor can be retailored [all that about
clothes on 614], so forget the troublesome night, be reborn'.--In general,
this finally reveals the meanings of the letter which was so obscure on p.
111, that what it's about is burying and remembering the disreputable side
of HCE which is her early lover Magrath (who is however HCE as well).]. And
she signs the letter as being 1) from Majesty's most duteous (servant), and
2) from Maya's (illusion's) most 'duty-used' (victim).

1993: The point of the letter, what she as the feminine principle has been
writing all along, is to render the contradictions which keep the world
going, that make the enemy, the Snake, be what you disavow but at the same
time have allegiance to because disreputable and not respectable, and that
make the apparently respectable both something you defend and see the flaws
in. The essential moment is the funeral with its cakes and Father Michael
preaching and Majesty attending while the interred dark side gets ready to
rise again--in which I am trying to make it too be a version of that moment
in the park, with the time asked and all the defenses happening.

1994: (not to deny the above, but to supplement and rework:) HCE is
Magrath, that is, HCE has a bad side: it comes out in sleep, in the HCE is
at his most accusable there. The letter is a petition to Majesty to ignore
the Magrath side (which she says doesn't characterize her husband, i.e.,
isn't him, though it clearly is), which is in effect to kill him, shoot him
and have his funeral. And killing Magrath is killing the night side of HCE,
so the funeral welcomes the day and HCE waking up (though as she imagines
this funeral, which ought simply to release the more simply likeable honest
grocer, her resentment of his bad side makes her vindictive about him. The
elements of the letter on 111 are all here, but now rationalized, a meaning
attached to each element it just didn't have before--it was unreadable then
(and a lot more, if not entirely readable now), but with the coming of day
it falls into line. A key thing to note is that the book itself, right
before the letter, gave opposite advice to it--it said "forget, remember"
(because we don't have to preserve the slogans of the past or relive them,
614.c7-18), and explained why that is possible with the argument that the
book itself, the vicocyclometer, dissolved the elements of the old Adam for
subsequent recombination, so that the "heroticisms, catastrophes and
eccentricities" preserving all the "adomic structure of our Finnius the Old
One" will be there again, piping hot "for you": it will be all to be gone
through again, you don't have to deal with its echoes and memories as the
previous part of the chapter has been doing. But this implies repetition,
even if unconscious, through forgetting, and ALP's argument in the letter
is for the opposite, for "don't forget, remember" 617.25-6: this process is
one of rejecting one half of the mix, the Magrath half, holding a funeral
for it, talking bad about it as she has been doing about Magrath, though
unable not to let it be clear that it is HCE she is talking about, so that
we can understand it's not that easy to make everything be logical, a
matter of the coming of day and the blessing of the king and a sermon by a
now nice parson Father Michael who can pour forth miracles. So I think the
advice is going to turn out to be wrong: we are stuck with forgetting and
hence reliving, and cannot remember and hence scapegoat and get rid of.

617.30-618.19. She goes on to speak to her own case, accusations against
her: in defense she recalls her own youthful seductiveness, and thinking it
was a happy fall wishes "all the MacCrawls" [Magrath? or is this by now
HCE, via MacCool, or both?] were as adept as Harmsworth (who perhaps
seduced her?). As she later thinks Magrath a good bootmaker, and as she
thought back on him when making love to HCE, it seems that through her
efforts to claim respectability keeps popping recollection of the more
satisfactory lover (or ['94] perhaps we should just say through the image
of herself as respectable pops the image of herself as enjoying lovemaking
and hence in her own eyes not so respectable. And she leaves
this--implicitly saying she isn't really apologizing for it--to say that
what will "engage in intentions" (engage our attentions) will instead of
"Micklemash" (Father Michael?) be Lily Kinsella, "the cad with the pope's
wife" (FDV has "with the pipe's"), and how she had to get married, had an
abortion (with the "certain medicine" .09, which is imaged as a "purge"
.15), "pulled a low" with the solicitor while her husband is in hospital.
['94 I think at root here may be ALP defending against, by admitting,
masturbation, see Bk4_noce2.gv] I.e., this is defending herself by saying
Lily is worse (maybe with a sense that she's Lily herself) just as she has
previously defended HCE by saying Magrath was worse (but with a sense that
he's HCE too). What ALP is saying here is 'just as it wasn't HCE who was a
sinner, but his alter and previous self and enemy Magrath, so it isn't me
who can be attacked, but my alter self the equally previous Lily who is in
effect the wife of my husband's other side (Lilith to ALP's Eve): just as
the more she defends HCE the more she blames him, so the more for herself.

Thus she is in effect acknowledging her own prior experience with Magrath
(like Molly's with Blazes Boylan) without real remorse (as we saw from
III.4 she thinks that early experience was the best--though in '94 remember
I'm saying it is her own experience which she isn't quite willing to admit
was hers), yet copes with the problems of guilt that it raises by saying
'but what Lily, his own wife, did, was worse--after all, I was irresistible
so young'. It fits the very general Joyce sense that women especially (The
Dead, Molly with Blazes) look back with nostalgia on early loves they can
neither forget nor want wholeheartedly to commit themselves to, things
having changed so much [that is, they look back on themselves as different
with nostalgia but not quite identification: how are you true to the past
in a present which is different and which requires your forgetting that
past?

Oddly, the FDV suggests more strongly than the final version that what you
see when you peek at Lily is herself on a sofa "with a lady" kissing and
looking in a mirror: it seems the accusation of homosexuality against Lily
that is brought against HCE via her husband the cad [or, in '94, more
plausibly, masturbation]. And because of looking in the mirror it seems
linked to Issy and the question of split personality. This view of it
suggests more that ALP is saying less that someone else is more guilty than
she of adultery than that what the real sin is is self-absorption--that's
what young women are accusable of, primarily.

618.20¶. She asks how she can be thought to have a bad reputation, when
everyone treats her so politely, and since no widower chased her with the
fork on Thanksgiving ( cf. 628.05, and 587.10 for HCE as a widower); in
fact, just look at my gentle husband, HCE the tea-drinker, next to thug
Sully who drinks too much. And she wishes she could lodge the complaint
concerning the constable, which conflates Sully and Sackerson, and then
he'd be sorry!

There's a definite sense of jealous regret--she talks bad about
Magrath/Sully/the cad/Sackerson but in contrasting her "mushroom" husband
he seems much too gentle.

618.35¶. And she proudly says she's resuming "polite conversation" with
100% human HCE after the natural business/beastliness of pleasure/leisure
with that snake Magrath (or, alternatively, that after the few good shags
that are in HCE tranquility is best, or alteratively again after
masturbating when young she thanks her husband for "polite conversation"
since, "conversation" being a word for intercourse I think, as in 'criminal
conversation'), and that the proof of the pudding is in the eating: the
original pan of cakes (pure gift, pure product--as something made from
female urine--pure consequence: in effect the good side of bringing
civilization is that you make cakes and give them to someone for Christmas;
and McHugh argues it is a crossword puzzle too, i.e., FW itself, finally
thus assigned to HCE; and R&O'H argue that it is also the "cross-mess", the
crucifixion, which since ALP is also Mary is thanks to HCE for providing
Shaun the savior and also for falling in the first place--happy fall--so
that the snake's seed can finally be defeated--nice argument, and maybe
also that "crossmess parzel" is the two-hangled warpon and she's thanking
HCE for his phallus) is (McHugh Sigla says this) is from HCE after all,
descendent of the first Adam, Finn (thus she undoes the ambivalence of
617.24-5, where in some sense the cakes come from Father Michael, as she
comes to an end).

619.06-.19: and she does close spelling out that the scandal is false,
because the real pair is not HCE/Magrath, but in effect HCE now/HCE then
(which is to say Shaun the inheritor)--the current giant sleeps under his
hump, under Howth (whether he literally woke up here or not wouldn't
matter, he's in effect asleep always) and the one waking up into life is
his younger "namesame", he who gets himself up "erect, confident and
heroic" (i.e., HCE) when the 'wee one woos', that is, the younger ALP (to
whom she passes herself over later), and also the 'wee one', the one who
makes water or the thing that makes water. ['94: it seems like a final
defense, in fact: in part she's saying that HCE is "bothered" (which can be
literal as well as meaning "deaf") by the "fallth of hampty damp"--which
easily sounds like a petname for the phallus--and she's saying that he
shouldn't be because when wooed he will be "erect, confident and
heroic"--"another he" (Shaun), granted, but "his real namesame" so same as
well as namesake.]

And this is spelled out further in the P.S.: that wee one is the natural
mate of the AngloNorman invader Rollo (who is the heroic HCE), she who is
fed up with nursery rhymes (and with the reams of this book), and is
working out toward life, toward alternatives (document #2), as she's the
large wave, the decumen (ALP in vigor, as one of the waves of the sea), and
DeValera's Document Number Two, that alternative to the treaty which is yet
to come. So that passing things over to Shaun and Issy, in terms of the
water and land (hill, rill), leads to the concluding monologue which simply
accepts the passing-over process on a more personal level than the letter.

['94, this is pretty well put:] In overall structure, then, the letter
simply says the enemy is bad and HCE though gentle is a good businessman
and man, and it defends against her own sense of being accused of bad
repute by saying the enemy camp is worse, and winds up saying that when all
is said and done the pure Christmas gift, the parcel of cakes, the savior
Shaun, is thanks to HCE after all, for his fall and for his rise and for
his being the bringer of civilization. Who will follow is Shaun his
namesake, to take over and be erect and confident when the wee one woos,
who for her part is Issy, ready herself to go out into the world as ALP is
ready to leave it.

The Monologue begins here.

619.20-34: She wakes, speaking as the river, leaves falling into her. It's
a "goolden wending", i.e., she will wend along. She asks him, man of Howth
and the house, to rise, like Old King Cole and be merry, like Finn MacCool:
he used to compliment her (so he should get up if he finds her so
attractive, and after all, she's slept well after being well fucked, and so
should he have).

619.34-620.12: she offers him his clothes to get dressed with (7 items, of
course), and says she wants to see him look fine, like the greenbelt city,
the jewel in the lotus--when naked the 'Buckley shot the Russian General'
near did for him [a very complex metaphor here], and people will think of
him as proud England with his poor little Ireland. And (in the dimness of
waking) he reminds her of the wondrous fucker she once saw [and the
"wonderdecker" seems like a three-decker, with the Baltic Norwegian captain
who "sailder", sailed her], or the sailor with "bangled ears" [in II.3 did
the Norwegian sailor have earrings?--certainly there are echoes of the
Prankquean and "come back with my earring"], or a Wild Goose Earl or the
Iron Duke. Whoever (and it's significant that she doesn't distinguish the
nationalities of these authoritative foreigners with little Iron--they're
all "Dark Countries" to her, where they come from. Whoever, she invites him
to come away and go abroad (just for a walk, I think, but maybe broader
than that too), since the children are still asleep. ('94: she pictures
them as like Diarmuid and Grainne, with "Rathgreany" where they went after
escaping Finn--as if she sees she and her husband together becoming the new
generation rather than passing over to them.)

620.12-621.3: starting with the boys, the members of the household pass
through her mind, in their several connections to each other: She thinks of
the boys, as different as Esau 'Head' and Jacob 'Heel' (but they could
change in a twinkling), and in effect they both, 'sigh' or 'cry', remind
her of HCE (and she recurs to this at 626.22,24, when HCE himself is
sometimes "fairly laughing" and sometimes "darkly roaring"): and they are
"the sehm asnuh", the same dichotomy anew (though unlike McHugh I tend to
read it "the same as now"), the Shem/Shaun that he is. What it amounts to
is " no peace at all", and maybe that's from their christening, their being
associated with tree and stone by the laundresses (who seem to be their
godparents); ALP seems to be saying that the stone-ness and tree-ness of
the laundresses 'took', and one boy "googl(ed) the holyboy's thingabib" and
the other "wett(ed) his widdle", i.e., Shaun got puritanically obsessed
with sex [as Book III attests] and Shem with drink [or ink].

At that baptism she says HCE was pleased as Punch (English again) and
telling nationalist stories (though Punch satirized the Irish), but that
night he was horny and wanting to conceive a girl--which she obliged in.

But as to Issy, she wishes Issy were less dreamy, had more mother wit, and
wasn't so likely to run off in due course. But she's merry now, and ALP
will wait and hope all will be well: "What will be is. Is is."

And then she thinks of Sackerson and Kate, saying very plainly "He's for
thee what she's for me", sidekicks and confidants on sea and in cottage,
but those days are gone and we should let "besoms be bosuns", for which cf.
79.36: time to let Kate just be the charwoman and leave her behind. (see
bk4_noce2.gv for more on this).

So she concludes this little unit in effect leaving them all behind, saying
it's Phoenix time, time to re-arise, time for a "joornee saintomichael",
the flame (the sun) is "hear" (here) and the book of the Dead/depth (i.e.
night) is closed.

In effect here she runs through the characters and futures of the rest of
the family and leaves them behind, saying that with the new day it's
resurrection time for her and HCE; she's urging them to make a new life for
themselves--but it's a call which it seems he will not be able or willing
to heed. That's just not how it happens--people get fixed in their roles
and can only pass out of them, and that's the pathos of this whole passage.
One would hope for a personal resurrection but it works less personally
than that, through the generations not through individual rebirth. But
still there's a difference between HCE and ALP. Joyce (as I see him): women
would be more flexible, they are less deadened by living flowing woman's
lives than men by becoming cities, but they too must give it up and resolve
into a dew (or a river) and flow into the next generations.

I think this ends the first unit of the monologue and begins a unit which
ends at 624.19, where the first draft ended at a certain point.

621.05: She urges him to come out of his shell, after having him hold up hs
finger to check the breeze decides there's enough light so she doesn't have
to take a lantern for X to blow out, and it won't rain till the sequence is
over, but still she'll take her shawl and the breakfast will be fine (very
fishy), while all the young fish crowd around for their creams, "Crying,
me, grownup sister! Are me not truly?", i.e., appealing to their identity
with her as the old fish (wearing her "Finvara shawl". i.e., in her fins).

621.17: As a little side thought (referring back as Norris says to 201.05,
where the river worries her banks are breaking down) she asks him, as
Cromwell and Mark, for a new girdle; but she tries to get him to respond,
to give her his hand the bearpaw (and thinks she can read his changes of
color as consciousness), which rapidly becomes his penis with its smooth
foreskin, and she is sad for his misshapenness (burnt in ice, chemicalled
as a photo, cf. 111) and closes her eyes to see him as the youth of
promise, that we put our hope in, a boy peeling a twig, beside a weeny
white steed (which makes a major contrast with the big white harse of the
mature Wellington-like HCE--and "weeny" is surely another reference to that
penis: the youth's "twig" or "weeny" has become the adult seat of power, as
the "masses of meltwhile horse" are the "weight of old fletch" which began
as that weeny steed (the peeled twig being that fletch or arrow).. (I find
this a very touching part of the monologue.) And if I read it right she
washes him (his penis?--or him in general, since in a sense going out with
her is being carried down the river)--"we'll lave it, so"--as well as
saying she'll forget the past and go on, "lave it" as Irishly accented
"leave it".

621.33: Again she turns to the discussion of the walk--we'll go early,
before church bells (of Le Fanu or Fox Goodman) or birds--speaking of which
there are your ravens, like Wotan's, and doves, white as snow for us. She
is confident of their repute (you'll get elected) and again says Lily's man
will never "reduce me" (i.e., seduce, cf. 573.05ff) and how absurd it is
that that mere Irishman should strut around the yard of a Viking like HCE!

622.08: He must seem to her to be waking and active, because she tells him
not to take such big strides (though she may still fantasize this and he be
in bed yet, as I suspect, see 622.20), he'll crush her "antilopes": and she
reflects that the time in the dark, in the ark, seems forever (a kind of
Godot sense), and he'll have to tell her sometime if its all... [true, I
presume].

622.16: she asks him to remember again, that he should know where she's
taking him--it's Howth, where they may first have made love ("Our cries"),
she could lead him there still in bed (maybe meaning an
invitation--communion is not placebound); and they have time till the
sadder events of mature life start recurring, such as the hunting party
(the king's visit) which calls again (as C&R usefully explain it), with all
the drawling snobs, Buckley and whelps and two lady Pagets (R&O'H think
them the girls in the park, I guess in an upper class guise)--she sees this
as a comedown from the heroic early period she's been talking about, and
bitterly remarks that the 'beauties don't answer and the rich never pays'.
They'd as soon hunt him, as remember that they did "after the Platonic
garlens" and all because they thought (though actually looking in the
mirror) they heard a cock crow and saw him and the three soldiers behind
"aleashing" him--but she says (and this feels new) he "came safe through",
i.e., the accusations and trials are successfully overcome (which I think
we have seen in the first part of Book IV where he wakes up).

623.04: After ALP recounts HCE's midlife troubles--the demeaning visit of
the king's hunting party, the [associated, in her account] accusations of
this-time upper-class women stemming from hearing a cock crow and seeing
him with the soldiers, she says "but you came safe through": I guess the
point is that she would like to think 'The trials and attacks are over and
you overcame them' and then claim we can GO ON FROM HERE to what is
essentially the Prankquean episode, an attempt to get favor from the Old
Lord. But this, far from being new, is again reflective of the
always-repeating set of struggles to get ahead, setbacks and new tries, as
this new try dissolves back into the old imagery when the Prankquean riddle
turns into a version of asking for light for a pipe. She tries to think of
the mountain as benign and granting their wishes if they are only
supplicant enough (take off the white hat, she urges, and she'll curtsey
like Grace and Kersse too--she fantasises in return his getting knighted or
made like Van Homrigh. But she recognizes this is a fantasy, her head (and
her current, since she's a river) is full of silly ideas/craft. So once
again she urges they go (though this is fully ambivalent--go from Howth
leaving the Jarl reading the sporting news, and again go from that bed they
have never left: it's both saying a new plot stage and also trying again
the same old thing [which is after all what each new plot stage is].

623.21: so she gives up that thought of approval from disinterested
authority and suggests they leave him and go "Flura's way" (which I think
just means among the rhododendrons on Howth, after the castle) after again
remembering early sexual joys (so many couples have followed their way--but
why the references to Swift?) says we can go sit calmly on Howth and wait
the rising (sun, but also political, I think) and establish "ourselves,
oursouls alone." And what they'll do is watch for the letter, which becomes
essentially two, his by sea and hers in the midden heap, that she has
prayed for with her dreams and scratched and patched with Shaun's (a
"primer's") help, and Shem's (a "caddy's") too. She's pecked up sky-goddess
(Nut) knowledge which is in it, and she says every letter is a hard nut but
his "hardest crux ever" (and she runs through a little Hebrew alphabet
ending with "hesitency"). But she asserts that, hard as it is to get it
sent, once it's delivered "you're on the map", you've got that recognition
you wanted. So she asserts that his from the waves and hers from the soil
will yield the expression of those "hopes" she buried and left to lie till
Christmas (till now, till a "kiss miss", so "content me now,", i.e., do it,
kiss me) when she got squelched by the loud voices of social life and the
two branches of Roderick O'Conner's family. And she thinks that then they
can settle into the ultimate cottage and be respectable (which of course
they've had trouble with). It rises to a kind of exstacy of envisioning
achievement, being Sir and Madam and hearing how Jove and the peers talk
and being Solness--she says this time he can "scale the summit" because
"you're not so giddy any more" and you won't fall. Actually the very first
draft makes clear this was coming up to the very end, and he wrote "The
End" at "naked sky" which becomes "naked universe" .19. And she complains a
little but comes to a bit of what one could see would be a final acceptance
(though not as dramatic as the end he worked out): she says HCE plotted a
lot but didn't bring much with it--ups and downs, dry and wet! But she
asserts she doesn't care about that patriarch Abraham and Sarah and the ram
business because she's made a home on the margin, a park and a pub. She as
one last admonition tells him not to get back into those essentially sexual
"stunts of Donachie's yeards agoad": Gordon convinces me that Shem and the
donkey are a primitive level of action and emotion and she's saying leave
that behind, it was donkey's years ago and years of acting like a donkey
under the goad. She's saying there's no God, it's a naked universe, so
don't be a fool just for the love of it.

So that's for sure a unit, on external grounds, and on internal as well,
since she now turns to her own dying sequence, beginning with her showing
him the world he's waking into and telling him it's really him (and her)
after this long night, despite its changes.

624.19: She speaks of her leafy dress (thus tieing in with the beginning of
the monologue and indicating a benchmark) and how she likes it and how he
(as boat) likes her look and smell, in everyone's, even Howth's, nostrils.
Which leads her to appreciate him and make her wonder if she knows who he
is, with the suggestion (plainer in first draft) that she thinks that all
along, though he was a Norwegian captain coming to her on the telephone, he
is Finn MacCool. She says she's heard (from his brother--what brother?)
that he had drunk parents and a Borstal term, but no matter, he did her
fine, so tough he could eat lobster shells (or British soldiers, maybe) and
on one birthday night he took her once French fashion and once German
(whatever styles those are). He could be a Pharoah or king of the
fairies--and he makes royal noises, anyhow! This is moving away from the
domestic certainties to a more mythic level as the sea approaches and the
dissolution of personality: do I really know my husband, is he not some god
or king as I am a river?

625.5: (a beautiful passage): Thinking about their farewell-to-the-world
walk she says she'll tell him the fictions there are ("makeup things"), and
they'll see the sites of the "storyplaces", all of which mean 'Welcome'
(though it's vanity of vanities), and they'll think about change, "the next
course of murphy's": she implies that for more of a history of it all he'll
have to ask the 4 writing their interminable history and claiming to be
heirs of O'Connell, for that'll be "a kingly work in progress", i.e., this
very book. And she recognizes that it'll be "by this route he'll come",
i.e., only through the writing, only through FW (and maybe, Beckettly
enough, not at all). For what she guarantees is that the forces of nature
(flint and fern) are in support and that the same process of coming to
wisdom through nature as happened to Finn (singeing the thumb, eating the
salmon, being wise) will thus happen to him--"it is all so often and still
the same to me" (the cycles eternally recur for her, and through her for
him).

625.33: and she goes on and responds to the questions she imagines him
asking as she shows him the modern world after the long night--he sniffs
and she says it's just clean turf, and he hasn't forgotten Butt and Taff,
or Brian Boru has he (at Clontarf)--i.e., all is well, the Irish have won
some? And if he wonders if they were him ("Mch?"), she assures him that it
is, especially in the modern houses that have sprung up, the city. He has a
big perspective on it, she a smaller (peas from lintils, seeds), but it's
still the embodiment of his grand vision that she has flowed past and
'lapped' so long, still the 'sama sitta'.She concludes that it does take
her breath away (as once the Liffey ran dry) but all these years her real
role, as river, is to flow on mourning the departed who in effect fall like
leaves onto her, the river of time. [i.e., his is to build new, hers to
mourn old, "the tear, the parted".] So she finally urges him to "turn
again" (in sleep, but like Whittington--it is a double image) and, only
hoping the heavens see (that it has meaning), take their walk. [This was
the end of the first draft--walking, to cycle back to the beginning, hoping
the heavens take notice]. She wants to lean on him a little because all
girls are wea (pee, and river, rill) and he adamant (stone, hill).

It really is a subject-changing unit to 626.03, the overview of what she
does (or would) show him on the walk, concerning the world and the city,
and how he should be astonished but pleased to find that it is himself and
she wants only to reserve her usual sense that her role as river is to
mourn the departed who fall like leaves into her stream, and she then
instructs him to walk with her only hoping the heavens see. The decision to
not end here really is one to have there be another stage to the plot--the
don't walk off together under heaven, rather it changes surprisingly and
they separate, becoming much more primal, less personal, she completely the
river losing herself in the sea and he becoming not the intimate husband
but the much grander father-lover-husband-god: the hill/rill
invader/invaded paradigms reassert themselves as what is eternal.

626.04: A change: she feels a wind comes up, and she becomes ever more
dominantly a river meeting the tide (at Islandbridge, where the Liffey
becomes tidal), though she processes this wind ruffling her as a memory of
her suitor doing it, swaggering, following her around the supper table with
a forkful of fat, propping her arse against his goose and lighting their
two candles, etc. And she mourns that no one will find Finn now on
Wicklow--except that there will always be lovers, though not for her. And
she thinks how she herself had her lover three times before marriage and
her father never knew, times when it was terrifyingly delightful, like the
invasion of Ireland by the Viking Corsair Goth, "like almost now". This
time, almost at the sea, she realizes she is the one who has to give
something up, not the father who gave her to her husband or her husband who
gave her the keys to her heart (cf 628.15 where the last thing returned is
"The keys to. Given." (or heaven). Thinking of this transaction, she wishes
she could better see the husband that she knows is changing.

So she's come to realize the change isn't exactly like the passions of the
earlier changes from virgin and to married state, for she has to give up
something now, and he seems to change before her eyes.

626.35: But then she realizes she is changing too, getting "mixed" (river
and ocean water), so that he who always was a "sonhusband" is himself
simplifying down (like her, "brightening up and tightening down") into who
is fit for the "daughterwife" who , as she a bit caustically describes, is
replacing her, is on her tail. And she has a double consciousness of these
others who are also herself, urges them "try not to part" (though we are
seeing exactly that parting, as must happen), and she sadly prays "May I be
wrong" (i.e., that they will part).

627.7: And thinking about the history-to-come of the daughterwife and
sonhusband, she reflects on her own, on the feeling and sequence of falling
into the world and passing through it and out of it. It's so peaceful as
moisture in the sky-mother, only "something fails us" and we feel and fall.
So the young one may rain now, whatever way (i.e., she is ceasing to try to
control), for her time is come. And she gets more bitter, remembering how
she used to think the world depended on her, and how this means she has
"been lived among them" (in the passive), and now as she loses them she
loathes them for it--for the greediness and smallness of souls and bodies
which she had used to blame on herself but now sees as simply puniness. And
she applies it directly to him, the one she thought so grand (e.g., on
626.10ff), not great in guilt and glory but a puny. This is Kathleen's
'unruly woman' stuff, maybe even Cixoux's Medusa. It is a grand
implementation of the cultural vision of a change away from selfishness in
later life, of the power of the elders, of the sacred nature of the witch.

627.24: This strand, of a freedom that comes with rejection and expansion,
climaxes here as she identifies with the sea-hags, whom she sees herself
now, as then, among, newly "pulchrabelled", like the Amazon and Nile and
the "stormies", with the "clash of our cries till we spring to be free".
This is a magnificent evocation of the 'unruly woman', enough to make me
assent to the idea of Joyce as feminist.

627.33: But suddenly she's a woman back in bed with her husband and
deciding in her loneliness to get up and "slip away before they're up" (he
clearly never having moved at all). And again suddenly then there she is
back out at sea, with the stops all off the language and the images
overwhelming her (for he too has changed, not just the pitiable little
city-builder any more than she the little wife, but King Lear etc.): the
size of him, the terrible prongs; she passes beyond the sea-walls, she
realizes that the leaves that have floated downstream with her are gone
(which from 625.30 were all the souls of the dead, the people she's seen
pass upon her banks) but one--this one, it is well pointed out, the pages
of the book as the equivalent of those souls--and this is the one she'll
bear with her to remind her of "Lff", Liffey, life. And then the end which
is hard to summarize: reverted to childhood she asks to be carried by this
father who at the same time is the Archangel Michael whose feet she would
wash, fallen (herself now) like Humpty Dumpty, like Magdelen.

And she seems to see "There's where. First.", and this maybe starts her
back into the cycle of life because she's then like the girls by the bushes
peeing (this was the end of the first draft version) and it's again more
like walking along, gulls crying, but this mixed with the father calling
and its being Finnegans Wake. In a last instant of consciousness she passes
over "the keys to" to whoever gets them (the book, maybe?), and asserts in
a concluding instant that they are "Given" before starting the lonely way
back along the river to doing it again.