Chapter7 Aeolus

In the Heart of the Hibernian Metropolis

BEFORE NELSON'S PILLAR TRAILS SLOWED, SHUNTED, CHANGED TROLLEY, started for Blackrock, Kingstown and Dalkey, Clonskea, Rathgar and Terenure, Palmerston park and upper Rathmines, Sandymount Green, Rathmines, Ringsend and Sandymount Tower, Harold's Cross. The hoarse Dublin United Tramway Company's timekeeper bawled them off:

-- Rathgar and Terenure!

-- Come on, Sandymount Green!

Right and left parallel clanging ringing a doubledecker and a singledeck moved from their railheads, swerved to the down line, glided parallel.

-- Start, Palmerston park!

The Wearer of the Crown

Under the porch of the general post office shoeblacks called and polished. Parked in North Prince's street His Majesty's vermilion mailcars, bearing on their sides the royal initials, E. R., received loudly flung sacks of letters, postcards, lettercards, parcels, insured and paid, for local, provincial, British and overseas delivery.

Gentlemen of the Press

Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's stores and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float bumped dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of Prince's stores.

-- There it is Red Murray said. Alexander Keyes.

-- Just cut it out, will you? Mr Bloom said, and I'll take it round to the Telegraph office.

The-door of Ruttledge's office creaked again. Davy Stephens, minute in a large capecoat, a small felt hat crowning his ringlets, passed out with a roll of papers under his cape, a king's courier.

Red Murray's long shears sliced out the advertisement from the newspaper in four clean strokes. Scissors and paste.

-- I'll go through the printing works, Mr Bloom said, taking the cut square.

-- Of course, if he wants a par, Red Murray said earnestly, a pen behind his ear, we can do him one.

-- Right, Mr Bloom said with a nod. I'll rub that in.

We.

William Brayden, Esquire, of Oaklands, Sandymount

Red Murray touched Mr Bloom's arm with the shears and whispered:

-- Brayden.

Mr Bloom turned and saw the liveried porter raise his lettered cap as a stately figure entered between the newsboards of the Weekly Freeman and National Press and the Freeman's Journal and National Press. Dullthudding Guinness's barrels. It passed stately up the staircase steered by an umbrella, a solemn beardframed face. The broadcloth back ascended each step: back. All his brains are in the nape of his neck, Simon Dedalus says. Welts of flesh behind on him. Fat folds of neck, fat, neck, fat, neck.

-- Don't you think his face is like Our Saviour? Red Murray whispered.

The door of Ruttledge's office whispered: ee: cree. They always build one door opposite another for the wind to. Way in. Way out.

Our Saviour: beardframed oval face: talking in the dusk Mary, Martha. Steered by an umbrella sword to the footlights: Mario the tenor.

-- Or like Mario, Mr Bloom said.

-- Yes, Red Murray agreed. But Mario was said to be the picture of Our Saviour.

Jesus Mario with rougy cheeks, doublet and spindle legs. Hand on his heart. In Martha.

The Crozier and the Pen

-- His grace phoned down twice this morning, Red Murray said gravely.

They watched the knees, legs, boots vanish. Neck.

A telegram boy stepped in nimbly, threw an envelope on the counter and stepped off posthaste with a word.

-- Freeman!

Mr Bloom said slowly:

-- Well, he is one of our saviours also.

A meek smile accompanied him as he lifted the counterflap, as he passed in through the sidedoor and along the warm dark stairs and passage, along the now reverberating boards. But will he save the circulation? Thumping, thumping.

He pushed in the glass swingdoor and entered, stepping over strewn packing paper. Through a lane of clanking drums he made his way towards Nannetti's reading closet.

With Unfeigned Regret it is we announce the of a most respected Dublin Burgess

Hynes here too: account of the funeral probably. Thumping thump. This morning the remains of the late Mr Patrick Dignam. Machines. Smash a man to atoms if they got him caught. Rule the world today. His machineries are pegging away too. Like these, got out of hand: fermenting. Working away, tearing away. And that old grey rat tearing to get in.

How a Great Daily Organ is turned out

Mr Bloom halted behind the foreman's spare body, admiring a glossy crown.

Strange he never saw his real country. Ireland my country. Member for College green. He boomed that workaday worker tack for all it was worth. It's the ads ad side features sell a weekly not the stale news in the official gazette. Queen Anne is dead. Published by authority in the year one thousand and. Demesne situate in the townland of Rosenallis, barony of Tinnachinch. To all whom it may concern schedule pursuant to statute showing return of number of mules and jennets exported from Ballina. Nature notes. Cartoons. Phil Blake's weekly Pat and Bull story. Uncle' Toby's page for tiny tots. Country bumpkin's queries. Dear Mr Editor, what is a good cure for flatulence? I'd like that part. Learn a lot teaching others. The personal note M.A. P. Mainly all pictures. Shapely bathers on golden strand. World's biggest balloon. Double marriage of sisters celebrated. Two bridegrooms laughing heartily at each other. Cuprani too, printer. More Irish than the Irish.

The machines clanked in threefour time. Thump, thump, thurap. Now if he got paralysed there and no one knew how to stop them they'd clank on and on the same, print it over and over and up and back. Monkeydoodle the whole thing. Want a cool head.

-- Well, get it into the evening edition, councillor, Hynes said.

Soon be calling him my lord mayor. Long John is backing him they say.

The foreman, without answering, scribbled press on a corner of the sheet and made a sign to a typesetter. He handed the sheet silently over the dirty glass screen.

-- Right: thanks, Hynes said moving off.

Mr Bloom stood in his way.

-- If you want to draw the cashier is just going to lunch, he said, pointing backward with his thumb.

-- Did you? Hynes asked.

-- Mm, Mr Bloom said. Look sharp and you'll catch him.

-- Thanks, old man, Hynes said. I'll tap him too.

He hurried on eagerly towards the Freeman's Journal.

Three bob I lent him in Meagher's. Three weeks. Third hint.

We see the Canvasser at work

Mr Bloom laid his cutting on Mr Nannetti's desk.

-- Excuse me, councillor, he said. This ad, you see. Keyes, you remember.

Mr Nannetti considered the cutting a while and nodded.

-- He wants it in for July, Mr Bloom said.

The foreman moved his pencil towards it.

-- But wait, Mr Bloom said. He wants it changed. Keyes, you see. He wants two keys at the top.

Hell of a racket they make. He doesn't hear it. Nannan. Iron nerves. Maybe he understands what I.

The foreman turned round to hear patiently and, lifting an elbow, began to scratch slowly in the armpit of his alpaca jacket.

-- Like that, Mr Bloom said, crossing his forefingers at the top.

Let him take that in first.

Mr Bloom, glancing sideways up from the cross he had made, saw the foreman's sallow face, think he has a touch of jaundice, and beyond the obedient reels feeding in huge webs of paper. Clank it. Clank it. Miles of it unreeled. What becomes of it after? O, wrap up meat, parcels: various uses, thousand and one things.

Slipping his words deftly into the pauses of the clanking he drew swiftly on the scarred-woodwork.

House of Key(e)s

-- Like that, see. Two crossed keys here. A circle. Then here the name Alexander Keyes, tea, wine and spirit merchant. So on.

Better not teach him his own business.

-- You know yourself, councillor, just what he wants. Then round the top in leaded: the house of keys. You see? Do you think that's a good idea?

The foreman moved his scratching hand to his lower ribs and scratched there quietly.

-- The idea, Mr Bloom said, is the house of keys. You know, councillor, the Manx parliament. Innuendo of home rule. Tourists, you know, from the isle of Man. Catches the eye, you see. Can you do that?

I could ask him perhaps about how to pronounce that voglio. But then if he didn't know only make it awkward for him. Better not.

-- We can do that, the foreman said. Have you the design?

-- I can get it, Mr Bloom said. It was in a Kilkenny paper. He has a house there too. I'll just run out and ask him. Well, you can do that and just a little par calling attention. You know the usual. High class licensed premises. Longfelt want. So on.

The foreman thought for an instant.

-- We can do that, he said. Let him give us a three months' renewal.

A typesetter brought him a limp galleypage. He began to check it silently. Mr Bloom stood by, hearing the loud throbs of cranks, watching the silent typesetters at their cases.

Orthographical

Want to be sure of his spelling. Proof fever. Martin Cunningham forgot to give us his spellingbee conundrum this morning. It is amusing to view the unpar one ar alleled embarra two ars is it? double ess ment of a harassed pedlar while gauging au the symmetry of a peeled pear under a cemetery wall. Silly, isn't it? Cemetery put in of course on account of the symmetry.

I could have said when he clapped on his topper. Thank you. I ought to have said something about an old hat or something. No, I could have said. Looks as good as new now. See his phizthen.

Sllt. The nethermost deck of the first machine jogged forwards its flyboard with slit the first batch of quirefolded papers. Sllt. Almost human the way it sllt to call attention. Doing its level best to speak. That door too slit creaking, asking to be shut. Everything speaks in its own way. Sllt.

Noted Churchman an Occasional Contributor

The foreman handed back the galleypage suddenly, saying:

-- Wait. Where's the archbishop's letter? It's to be repeated in the Telegraph. Where's what's his name?

He looked about him round his loud unanswering machines.

-- Monks, sir? a voice asked from the castingbox.

-- Ay. Where's Monks?

-- Monks!

Mr Bloom took up his cutting. Time to get out.

-- Then I'll get the design, Mr Nannetti, he said, and you'll give it a good place I know.

-- Monks!

-- Yes, sir.

Three months' renewal. Want to get some wind off my chest first. Try it anyhow. Rub in August: good idea: horseshow month. Ballsbridge. Tourists over for the show.

A Dayfather

He walked on through the caseroom, passing an old man, bowed, spectacled, aproned. Old Monks, the dayfather. Queer lot of stuff he must have put through his hands in his time: obituary notices, pubs' ads, speeches, divorce suits, found drowned. Nearing the end of his tether now. Sober serious man with a bit in the savings-bank I'd say. Wife a good cook and washer. Daughter working the machine in the parlour. Plain Jane, no damn nonsense.

And it was the Feast of the Passover

He stayed in his walk to watch a typesetter neatly distributing type. Reads it backwards first. Quickly he does it. Must require some practice that. mangiD. kcirtaP. Poor papa with his hagadah book, reading backwards with his finger to me. Pessach. Next year in Jerusalem. Dear, O dear! All that long business about that brought us out of the land of Egypt and into the house of bondage alleluia. Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu. No, that's the other. Then the twelve brothers, Jacob's sons. And then the lamb and the cat and the dog and the stick and the water and the butcher and then the angel of death kills the butcher and he kills the ox and the dog kills the cat. Sounds a bit silly till you come to look into it well. Justice it means but it's everybody eating everyone else. That's what life is after all. How quickly he does that job. Practice makes perfect. Seems to see with his fingers.

Mr Bloom passed on out of the clanking noises through the gallery on to the landing. Now am I going to tram it out all the way and then catch him out perhaps? Better phone him up first. Number? Same as Citron's house. Twentyeight. Twentyeight double four.

Only once more that soap

He went down the house staircase. Who the deuce scrawled all over these walls with matches? Looks as if they did it for a bet. Heavy greasy smell there always is in those works. Lukewarm glue in Thom's next door when I was there.

He took out his handkerchief to dab his nose. Citronlemon? Ah, the soap I put there. Lose it out of that pocket. Putting back his handkerchief he took out the soap and stowed it away, buttoned into the hip pocket of his trousers.

What perfume does your wife use? I could go home still: tram: something I forgot. Just to see before dressing. No. Here. No.

A sudden screech of laughter came from the Evening Telegraph office. Know who that is. What's up? Pop in a minute to phone. Ned Lambert it is.

He entered softly.

Erin, Green Gem of the Silver Sea

-- The ghost walks, professor Macllugh murmured softly, biscuitfully to the dusty windowpane.

Mr Dedalus, staring from the empty fireplace at Ned Lambert's quizzing face, asked of it sourly:

-- Agonising Christ, wouldn't it give you a heartburn on your arse?

Ned Lambert, seated on the table, read on:

-- Or again, note the meanderings of some purling rill as it babbles on its way, fanned by gentlest zephyrs tho' quarrelling with the stony obstacles, to the tumbling waters of Neptune's blue domain, mid mossy banks, played on by the glorious sunlight or 'neath the shadows cast o'er its pensive bosom by the overarching leafage of the giants of the forest. What about that, Simon? he asked over the fringe of his newspaper. How's that for high?

-- Changing his drink, Mr Dedalus said.

Ned Lambert, laughing, struck the newspaper on his knees, repeating:

-- The pensive bosom and the overarsing leafage. O boys! O boys!

-- And Xenophon looked upon Marathon, Mr Dedalus said, looking again on the fireplace and to the window, and Marathon looked on the sea.

-- That will do, professor MacHugh cried from the window. I don't want to hear any more of the stuff.

He ate off the crescent of water biscuit he had been nibbling and, hungered, made ready to nibble the biscuit in his other hand.

High falutin stuff. Bladderbags. Ned Lambert is taking a day off I see. Rather upsets a man's day a funeral does. He has influence they say. Old Chatterton, the vice-chancellor, is his granduncle or his greatgranduncle. Close on ninety they say. Subleader for his death written this long time perhaps. Living to spite them. Might go first himself. Johnny, make room for your uncle. The right honourable Hedges Eyre Chatterton. Daresay he writes him an odd shaky cheque or two on gale days. Windfall when he kicks out. Alleluia.

-- Just another spasm, Ned Lambert said.

-- What is it? Mr Bloom asked.

-- A recently discovered fragment of Cicero's, professor MacHugh answered with pomp of tone. Our lovely land.

Short but to the Point

-- Whose land? Mr Bloom said simply.

-- Most pertinent question, the professor said between his chews. With an accent on the whose.

-- Dan Dawson's land, Mr Dedalus said.

-- Is it his speech last night? Mr Bloom asked.

Ned Lambert nodded.

-- But listen to this, he said.

The doorknob hit Mr Bloom in the small of the back as the door was pushed in.

-- Excuse me, J.J. O'Molloy said, entering.

Mr Bloom moved nimbly aside.

-- I beg yours, he said.

-- Good day, Jack.

-- Come in. Come in.

-- Good day.

-- How are you, Dedalus?

-- Well. And yourself?

J.J. O'Molloy shook his head.

Sad

Cleverest fellow at the junior bar he used to be. Decline poor chap. That hectic flush spells finis for a man. Touch and go with him. What's in the wind, I wonder. Money worry.

-- Or again if we but climb the serried mountain peaks.

-- You're looking extra.

-- Is the editor to be seen? J.J. O'Molloy asked, looking towards the inner door.

-- Very much so, professor MacHugh said. To be seen and heard. He's in his sanctum with Lenehan.

J.J. O'Molloy strolled Jo the sloping desk and began to turn back the pink pages of the file.

Practice dwindling. A mighthavebeen. Losing heart. Gambling. Debts of honour. Reaping the whirlwind. Used to get good retainers from D. and T. Fitzgerald. Their wigs to show their grey matter. Brains on their sleeve like the statue in Glasnevin. Believe he does some literary work for the Express with Gabriel Conroy. Wellread fellow. Myles Crawford began on the Independent. Funny the way those newspaper men veer about when they get wind of a new opening. Weathercocks. Hot and cold in the same breath. Wouldn't know which to believe. One story good till you hear the next. Go for one another baldheaded in the papers and then all blows over. Hailfellow well met the next moment.

-- Ah, listen to this for God's sake, Ned Lambert pleaded. Or again if we but climb the serried mountain peaks...

-- Bombast! the professor broke in testily. Enough of the inflated windbag!

-- Peaks, Ned Lambert went on, towering high on high, to bathe our souls, as it were...

-- Bathe his lips, Mr Dedalus said. Blessed and eternal God! Yes? Is he taking anything for it?

-- As 'twere, in the peerless panorama of Ireland's portfolio, unmatched, despite their wellpraised prototypes in other vaunted prize regions, for very beauty, of bosky grove and undulating plain and luscious pastureland of vernal green, steeped in the transcendent translucent glow of our mild mysterious Irish twilight...

His Native Doric

-- The moon, professor MacHugh said. He forgot Hamlet.

-- That mantles the vista far and wide and wait till the glowing orb of the moon shines forth to irradiate her silver effulgence.

-- O! Mr Dedalus cried, giving vent to a hopeless groan, shite and onions! That'll do, Ned. Life is too short.

He took off his silk hat and, blowing out impatiently his bushy moustache, welshcombed his hair with raking fingers.

Ned Lambert tossed the newspaper aside, chuckling with delight. An instant after a hoarse bark of laughter burst over professor MacHugh's unshaven black-spectacled face.

-- Doughy Daw! he cried.

What Wetherup said

All very fine to jeer at it now in cold print but it goes down like hot cake that stuff. He was in the bakery line too wasn't he? Why they call him Doughy Daw. Feathered his nest well anyhow. Daughter engaged to that chap in the inland revenue office with the motor. Hooked that nicely. Entertainments open house. Big blow out. Wetherup always said that. Get a grip of them by the stomach.

The inner door was opened violently and a scarlet beaked face, crested by a comb of feathery hair, thrust itself in. The bold blue eyes stared about them and the harsh voice asked:

-- What is it?

-- And here comes the sham squire himself, professor MacHugh said grandly.

-- Getououthat, you bloody old pedagogue! the editor said in recognition.

-- Come, Ned, Mr Dedalus said, putting on his hat. I must get a drink after that.

-- Drink! the editor cried. No drinks served before mass.

-- Quite right too, Mr Dedalus said, going out. Come on, Ned.

Ned Lambert sidled down from the table. The editor's blue eyes roved towards Mr Bloom's face, shadowed by a smile.

-- Will you join us, Myles? Ned Lambert asked.

Memorable Battles Recalled

-- North Cork militia! the editor cried, striding to the mantelpiece. We won every time! North Cork and Spanish officers!

-- Where was that, Myles? Ned Lambert asked with a reflective glance at his toecaps.

-- In Ohio! the editor shouted.

-- So it was, begad, Ned Lambert agreed.

Passing out, he whispered to J.J. O'Molloy:

-- Incipient jigs. Sad case.

-- Ohio! the editor crowed in high treble from his uplifted scarlet face. My Ohio!

-- A Perfect cretic! the professor said. Long, short and long.

O, Harp Eolian

He took a reel of dental floss from his waistcoat pocket and, breaking off a piece, twanged it smartly between two and two of his resonant unwashed teeth.

-- Bingbang, bangbang.

Mr Bloom, seeing the coast clear, made for the inner door.

-- Just a moment, Mr Crawford, he said. I just want to phone about an ad.

He went in.

-- What about that leader this evening? professor MacHugh asked, coming to the editor and laying a firm hand on his shoulder.

-- That'll be all right, Myles Crawford said more calmly. Never you fret. Hello, Jack. That's all right.

-- Good day, Myles. J.J. O'Molloy said, letting the pages he held slip limply back on the file. Is that Canada swindle case on today?

The telephone whirred inside.

-- Twenty eight... No, twenty... Double four . Yes.

Spot the Winner

Lenehan came out of the inner office with Sports tissues.

-- Who wants a dead cert for the Gold cup? he asked. Sceptre with O. Madden up.

He tossed the tissues on to the table.

Screams of newsboys barefoot in the hall rushed near and the door was flung open.

-- Hush, Lenehan said. I hear feetstoops.

Professor MacHugh strode across the room and seized the cringing urchin by the collar as the others scampered out of the hall and down the steps. The tissues rustled up in the draught, floated softly in the air blue scrawls and under the table came to earth.

-- It wasn't me, sir. It was the big fellow shoved me, sir.

-- Throw him out and shut the door, the editor said. There's a hurricane blowing.

Lenehan began to paw the tissues up from the floor, grunting as he stooped twice.

-- Waiting for the racing special, sir, the newsboy said. It was Pat Farrel shoved me, sir.

He pointed to two faces peering in round the door-frame.

-- Him, sir.

-- Out of this with you, professor MacHugh said gruffly.

He hustled the boy out and banged the door to.

J.J. O'Molloy turned the files crackingly over, murmuring, seeking:

-- Continued on page six, column four.

-- Yes... Evening Telegraph here, Mr Bloom phoned from the inner office. Is the boss... ? Yes, Telegraph... To where?... Aha! Which auction rooms?... Aha! I see... Right. I'll catch him.

A Collision ensues

The bell whirred again as he rang off. He came in quickly and bumped against Lenehan who was struggling up with the second tissue.

-- Pardon, monsieur, Lenehan said, clutching him for an instant and making a grimace.

-- My fault, Mr Bloom said, suffering his grip. Are you hurt? I'm in a hurry.

-- Knee, Lenehan said.

He made a comic face and whined, rubbing his knee.

-- The accumulation of the anno Domini.

-- Sorry, Mr Bloom said.

He went to the door and, holding it ajar, paused. J.J. O'Molloy slapped the heavy pages over. The noise of two shrill voices, a mouthorgan, echoed in the bare hallway from the newsboys squatted on the doorsteps:

Exit Bloom

-- I'm just running round to Bachelor's walk, Mr Bloom said, about this ad of Keyes's. Want to fix it up. They tell me he's round there in Dillon's.

He looked indecisively for a moment at their faces. The editor who, leaning against the mantelshelf, had propped his head on his hand suddenly stretched forth an arm amply.

-- Begone! he said. The world is before you.

-- Back in no time, Mr Bloom said, hurrying out.

J.J. O'Molloy took the tissues from Lenehan's hand and read them, blowing them apart gently, without comment.

-- He'll get that advertisement, the professor said, staring through his blackrimmed spectacles over the crossblind. Look at the young scamps after him.

-- Show! Where? Lenehan cried, running to the window.

A Street Cortege

Both smiled over the crossblind at the file of capering newsboys in Mr Bloom's wake, the last zigzagging white on the breeze a mocking kite, a tail of white bowknots.

-- Look at the young guttersnipe behind him hue and cry, Lenehan said, and you'll kick. O, my rib risible! Taking off his flat spaugs and the walk. Small nines. Steal upon larks.

He began to mazurka in swift caricature across the floor on sliding feet past the fireplace to J.J. O'Molloy who placed the tissues in his receiving hands.

-- What's that? Myles Crawford said with a start. Where are the other two gone?

-- Who? the professor said, turning. They're gone round to the Oval for a drink. Paddy Hooper is there with Jack Hall. Came over last night.

-- Come on then, Myles Crawford said. Where's my hat?

He walked jerkily into the office behind, parting the vent of his jacket, jingling his keys in his back pocket. They jingled then in the air and against the wood as he locked his desk drawer.

-- He's pretty well on, professor MacHugh said in a low voIce.

-- Seems to be, J.J. O'Molloy said, taking out a cigarette case in murmuring meditation, but it is not always as it seems. Who has the most matches?

The Calumet of Peace

He offered a cigarette to the professor and took one himself. Lenehan promptly struck a match for them and lit their cigarettes in turn. J.J. O'Molloy opened his case again and offered it.

-- Thanky vous, Lenehan said, helping himself.

The editor came from the inner office, a straw hat awry on his brow. He declaimed in song, pointing sternly at professor MacHugh:

'Twas rank and fame that tempted thee,

'Twas empire charmed thy heart.

The professor grinned, locking his long lips.

-- Eh? You bloody old Roman empire? Myles Crawford said.

He took a cigarette from the open case. Lenehan, lighting it for him with quick grace, said:

-- Silence for my brandnew riddle!

-- Imperium romanum, J.J. O'Molloy said gently. It sounds nobler than British or Brixton. The word reminds one somehow of fat in the fire.

Myles Crawford blew his first puff violently towards the ceiling.

-- That's it, he said. We are the fat. You and I are the fat in the fire. We haven't got the chance of a snowball in hell.

The Grandeur that was Rome

-- Wait a moment, professor MacHugh said, raising two quiet claws. We mustn't be led away by words, by sounds of words. We think of Rome, imperial, imperious, imperative.

He extended elocutionary arms from frayed stained shirtcuffs, pausing:

-- What was their civilisation? Vast, I allow: but vile. Cloac&Aelig;: sewers. The Jews in the wilderness and on the mountaintop said: It is meet to be here. Let us build an altar to Jehovah. The Roman, like the Englishman who follows in his footsteps, brought to every new shore on which he set his foot (on our shore he never set it) only his cloacal obsession. He gazed about him in his toga and he said: It is meet to be here. Let us construct a watercloset.

-- Which they accordingly did do, Lenehan said. Our old ancient ancestors, as we read in the first chapter of Guinness's, were partial to the running stream.

-- They were nature's gentlemen, J.J. O'Molloy murmured. But we have also Roman law.

-- And Pontius Pilate is its prophet, professor MacHugh responded.

-- Do you know that story about chief Baron Palles? J.J. O'Molloy asked. It was at the royal university dinner. Everything was going swimmingly.

-- First my riddle, Lenehan said. Are you ready?

Mr O'Madden Burke, tall in copious grey of Donegal tweed, came in from the hallway. Stephen Dedalus, behind him, uncovered as he entered.

-- Entrez, mes enfants! Lenehan cried.

-- I escort a suppliant, Mr O'Madden Burke said melodiously. Youth led by Experience visits Notoriety.

-- How do you do? the editor said, holding out a hand. Come in. Your governor is just gone. ???

Lenehan said to all:

-- Silence! What opera resembles a railway line? Reflect, ponder, excogitate, reply.

Stephen handed over the typed sheets, pointing to the title and signature.

-- Who? the editor asked.

Bit torn off.

-- Mr Garrett Deasy, Stephen said:

-- That old pelters, the editor said. Who tore it? Was he short taken.

-- Good day, Stephen, the professor said, coming to peer over their shoulders. Foot and mouth? Are you turned... ?

Bullockbefriending bard.

Shindy in wellknown Restaurant

-- Good day, sir, Stephen answered, blushing. The letter is not mine. Mr Garrett Deasy asked me to...

-- O, I know him, Myles Crawford said, and knew his wife too. The bloodiest old tartar God ever made. By Jesus, she had the foot and mouth disease and no mistake! The night she threw the soup in the waiter's face in the Star and Garter. Oho!

A woman brought sin into the world. For Helen, the runaway wife of Menelaus, ten years the Greeks. O'Rourke, prince of Breffni.

-- Is he a widower? Stephen asked.

-- Ay, a grass one, Myles Crawford said, his eye running down the typescript. Emperor's horses. Habsburg. An Irishman saved his life on the ramparts of Vienna. Don't you forget! Maximilian Karl O'Donnell, graf von Tirconnel in Ireland. Sent his heir over to make the king an Austrian fieldmarshal now. Going to be trouble there one day. Wild geese. O yes, every time. Don't you forget that!

-- The moot point is did he forget it? J.J. O'Molloy said quietly, turning a horseshoe paperweight. Saving princes is a thank you job.

Professor MacHugh turned on him.

-- And if not? he said.

-- I'll tell you how it was, Myles Crawford began. Hungarian it was one day... Lost Causes

Noble Marquess mentioned

We were always loyal to lost causes, the professor said. Success for us is the death of the intellect and of the imagination. We were never loyal to the successful. We serve them. I teach the blatant Latin language. I speak the tongue of a race the acme of whose mentality is the maxim: time is money. Material domination. Dominus! Lord! Where is the spirituality? Lord Jesus! Lord Salisbury. A sofa in a westend club. But the Greek!

Kyrie Eleison!

A smile of light brightened his darkrimmed eyes, lengthened his long lips.

-- The Greek! he said again. Kyrios! Shining word! The vowels the Semite and the Saxon know not. Kyrie! The radiance of the intellect. I ought to profess Greek, the language of the mind. Kyrie eleison! The closetmaker and the cloacamaker will never be lords of our spirit. We are liege subjects of the catholic chivalry of Europe that foundered at Trafalgar and of the empire of the spirit, not an imperium, that went under with the Athenian fleets at &Aelig;gospotami. Yes, yes. They went under. Pyrrhus, misled by an oracle, made a last attempt to retrieve the fortunes of Greece. Loyal to a lost cause.

He strode away from them towards the window.

-- They went forth to battle, Mr O'Madden Burke said greyly, but they always fell.

-- Boohoo! Lenehan wept with a little noise. Owing to a brick received in the latter half of the matinée. Poor, poor, poor Pyrrhus!

He whispered then near Stephen's ear:

Lenehan's Limerick

In mourning for Sallust, Mulligan says. Whose mother is beastly dead.

Myles Crawford crammed the sheets into a sidepocket.

-- That'll be all right, he said. I'll read the rest after. That'll be all right.

Lenehan extended his hands in protest.

-- But my riddle! he said. What opera is like a railway line?

-- Opera? Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled.

Lenehan announced gladly:

-- The Rose of Castille. See the wheeze? Rows of cast steel. Gee!

He poked Mr O'Madden Burke mildly in the spleen. Mr O'Madden Burke fell back with grace on his umbrella, feigning a gasp.

-- Help! he sighed. I feel a strong weakness.

Lenehan, rising to tiptoe, fanned his face rapidly with the rustling tissues.

The professor, returning by way of the files, swept his hand across Stephen's and Mr O'Madden Burke's loose ties.

-- Paris, past and present, he said. You look like communards.

-- Like fellows who had blown up the bastille, J.J. O'Molloy said in quiet mockery. Or was it you shot the lord lieutenant of Finland between you? You look as though you had done the deed. General Bobrikoff.

Omnium Gatherum

-- We were only thinking about it, Stephen said.

-- All the talents, Myles Crawford said. Law, the classics.

-- The turf, Lenehan put in.

-- Literature, the press.

-- If Bloom were here, the professor said. The gentle art of advertisement.

-- And Madam Bloom, Mr O'Madden Burke added. The vocal muse. Dublin's prime favourite.

Lenehan gave a loud cough.

-- Ahem! he said very softly. O, for a fresh of breath air! I caught a cold in the park. The gate was open.

You can do it!

The editor laid a nervous hand on Stephen's shoulder.

-- I want you to write something for me, he said. Something with a bite in it. You can do it. I see it in your face. In the lexicon of youth...

See it in your face. See it in your eye. Lazy idle little schemer.

-- Foot and mouth disease! the editor cried in scornful invective. Great nationalist meeting in Borris-in-Ossory. All balls! Bulldosing the public! Give them something with a bite in it. Put us all into it, damn its soul. Father Son and Holy Ghost and fakes M'Carthy.

-- We can all supply mental pabulum, Mr O'Madden Burke said.

Stephen raised his eyes to the bold unheeding stare.

-- He wants you for the pressgang, J.J. O'Molloy said.

The Great Gallaher

-- You can do it, Myles Crawford repeated, clenching his hand in emphasis. Wait a minute. We'll paralyse Europe as Ignatius Gallaher used to say when he was on the shaughraun, doing billiardmarking in the Clarence. Gallaher, that was a pressman for you. That was a pen. You know how he made his mark? I'll tell you. That was the smartest piece of journalism ever known. That was in eightyone, sixth of May, time of the invincibles, murder in the Phoenix park, before you were born, I suppose. I'll show you.

He pushed past them to the files.

-- Look at here, he said, turning. The New York World cabled for a special. Remember that time?

Professor MacHugh nodded.

-- New York World, the editor said, excitedly pushing back his straw hat. Where it took place. Tim Kelly, or Kavanagh I mean, Joe Brady and the rest of them. Where Skin-the-goat drove the car. Whole route, see?

-- Skin-the-goat, Mr O'Madden Burke said. Fitzharris. He has that cabman's shelter, they say, down there at Butt bridge. Holohan told me. You know Holohan?

-- Hop and carry one, is it? Myles Crawford said.

-- And poor Gumley is down there too, so he told me, minding stones for the corporation. A night watchman.

Stephen turned in surprise.

-- Gumley? he said. You don't say so? A friend of my father's, is he?

-- Never mind Gumley, Myles Crawford cried angrily. Let Gumley mind the stones, see they don't run away. Look at here. What did Ignatius Gallaher do? I'll tell you. Inspiration of genius. Cabled right away. Have you Weekly Freeman of 17 March? Right. Have you got that?

He flung back pages of the files and stuck his finger on a point.

-- Take page four, advertisement for Bransome's coffee let us say. Have you got that? Right.

The telephone whirred.

A distant voice

-- I'll answer it, the professor said going.

-- B is parkgate. Good.

His finger leaped and struck point after point, vibrating.

-- T is viceregal lodge. C is where murder took place. K is Knockmaroon gate.

The loose flesh of his neck shook like a cock's wattles. An illstarched dicky jutted up and with a rude gesture he thrust it back into his waistcoat.

-- Hello? Evening Telegraph here... Hello?... Who's there?... Yes... Yes...

-- F to P is the route Skin-the-goat drove the car for an alibi. Inchicore, Roundtown, Windy Arbour, Palmerston Park, Ranelagh. F. A. B. P. Got that? X is Davy's publichouse in upper Leeson street.

The professor came to the inner door.

-- Bloom is at the telephone, he said.

-- Tell him go to hell, the editor said promptly. X is Burke's publichouse, see?

Clever, Very

Clever, Lenehan said. Very.

-- Gave it to them on a hot plate, Myles Crawford said, the whole bloody history.

Nightmare from which you will never awake.

-- I saw it, the editor said proudly. I was present, Dick Adams, the besthearted bloody Corkman the Lord ever put the breath of life in, and myself.

Lenehan bowed to a shape of air, announcing:

-- Madam, I'm Adam. And Able was I ere I saw Elba.

-- History! Myles Crawford cried. The Old Woman of Prince's street was there first. There was weeping and gnashing of teeth over that. Out of an advertisement. Gregor Grey made the design for it. That gave him the leg up. Then Paddy Hooper worked Tay Pay who took him on to the Star. Now he's got in with Blumenfeld. That's press. That's talent. Pyatt! He was all their daddies.

-- The father of scare journalism, Lenehan confirmed, and the brother-in-law of Chris Callinan.

-- Hello?... Are you there?... Yes, he's here still. Come across yourself.

-- Where do you find a pressman like that now, eh? the editor cried. He flung the pages down.

-- Clamn dever, Lenehan said to Mr O'Madden Burke.

-- Very smart, Mr O'Madden Burke said.

Professor MacHugh came from the inner office.

-- Talking about the invincibles, he said, did you see that some hawkers were up before the recorder...

-- O yes, J.J. O'Molloy said eagerly. Lady Dudley was walking home through the park to see all the trees that were blown down by that cyclone last year and thought she'd buy a view of Dublin. And it turned out to be a commemoration postcard of Joe Brady or Number One or Skin-the-goat. Right outside the viceregal lodge, imagine!

-- They're only in the hook and eye department, Myles Crawford said. Psha! Press and the bar! Where have you a man now at the bar like those fellows, like Whiteside, like Isaac Butt, like silvertongued O'Hagan? Eh? Ah, bloody nonsense! Only in the halfpenny place!

His mouth continued to twitch unspeaking in nervous curls of disdain.

Would anyone wish that mouth for her kiss? How do you know? Why did you write it then?

Rhymes and Reasons

Mouth, south. Is the mouth south someway? Or the south a mouth? Must be some. South, pout, out, shout, drouth. Rhymes: two men dressed the same, looking the same, two by two.

He saw them three by three, approaching girls, in green, in rose, in russet, entwining, per l'aer perso in mauve, in purple, quella pacifica oriafiamma, in gold of oriflamme, di rimirar fe piu ardenti. But I old men, penitent, leadenfooted, underdarkneath the night: mouth south: tomb womb.

-- Speak up for yourself, Mr O'Madden Burke said.

Sufficient for the Day...

J.J. O'Molloy, smiling palely, took up the gage.

-- My dear Myles, he said, flinging his cigarette aside, you put a false construction on my words. I hold no brief, as at present advised, for the third profession qua profession but your Cork legs are running away with you. Why not bring in Henry Grattan and Flood and Demosthenes and Edmund Burke? Ignatius Gallaher we all know and his Chapelizod boss, Harmsworth of the farthing press, and his American cousin of the Bowery gutter sheet not to mention Paddy Kelly's Budget, Pue's Occurrences and our watchful friend The Skibereen Eagle. Why bring in a master of forensic eloquence like Whiteside? Sufficient for the day is the newspaper thereof.

Links with Bygone Days of Yore

Grattan and Flood wrote for this very paper, the editor cried in his face. Irish volunteers. Where are you now? Established 1763. Dr Lucas. Who have you now like John Philpot Curran? Psha!

-- Well, J.J. O'Molloy said, Bushe K. C., for example.

-- Bushe? the editor said. Well, yes. Bushe, yes. He has a strain of it in his blood. Kendal Bushe or I mean Seymour Bushe.

-- He would have been on the bench long ago, the professor said, only for... But no matter.

J.J. O'Molloy turned to Stephen and said quietly and slowly:

-- One of the most polished periods I think I ever listened to in my life fell from the lips of Seymour Bushe. It was in that case of fratricide, the Childs murder case. Bushe defended him.

And in the porches of mine ear did pour.

By the way how did he find that out? He died in his sleep. Or the other story, beast with two backs?

-- What was that? the professor asked.

Italia, Magistra Artium

-- He spoke on the law of evidence, J.J. O'Molloy said, of Roman justice as contrasted with the earlier Mosaic code, the lex talionis. And he cited the Moses of Michelangelo in the Vatican.

-- Ha.

-- A few wellchosen words, Lenehan prefaced. Silence!

Pause. J.J. O'Molloy took out his cigarette case. False lull. Something quite ordinary.

Messenger took out his matchbox thoughtfully and lit his cigar.

I have often thought since on looking back over that strange time that it was that small act, trivial in itself, that striking of that match, that determined the whole aftercourse of both our lives.

A Polished Period

J.J. O'Molloy resumed, moulding his words:

-- He said of it: that stony effigy in frozen music, horned and terrible, of the human form divine, that eternal symbol of wisdom and prophecy which if aught that the imagination or the hand of sculptor has wrought in marble of soultransfigured and of soultransfiguring deserves to live, deserves to live.

His slim hand with a wave graced echo and fall.

-- Fine! Myles Crawford said at once.

-- The divine afflatus, Mr O'Madden Burke said.

-- You like it? J.J. O'Molloy asked Stephen.

Stephen, his blood wooed by grace of language and gesture, blushed. He took a cigarette from the case. J.J. O'Molloy offered his case to Myles Crawford. Lenehan lit their cigarettes as before and took his trophy, saying:

-- Muchibus thankibus.

A Man of High Morale

-- Professor Magennis was speaking to me about you, J.J. O'Molloy said to Stephen. What do you think really of that hermetic crowd, the opal hush poets: A. E. the master mystic? That Blavatsky woman started it. She was a nice old bag of tricks. A. E. has been telling some yankee interviewer that you came to him in the small hours of the morning to ask him about planes of consciousness. Magennis thinks you must have been pulling A. E.'s leg. He is a man of the very highest morale, Magennis.

Speaking about me. What did he say? What did he say? What did he say about me? Don't ask.

-- No, thanks, professor MacHugh said, waving the cigarette case aside. Wait a moment. Let me say one thing. The finest display of oratory I ever heard was a speech made by John F. Taylor at the college historical society. Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, the present lord justice of appeal, had spoken and the paper under debate was an essay (new for those days), advocating the revival of the Irish tongue.

He turned towards Myles Crawford and said:

-- You know Gerald Fitzgibbon. Then you can imagine the style of his discourse.

-- He is sitting with Tim Healy, J.J. O'Molloy said, rumour has it, on the Trinity college estates commission.

-- He is sitting with a sweet thing in a child's frock, Myles Crawford said. Go on. Well?

-- It was the speech, mark you, the professor said, of a finished orator, full of courteous haughtiness and pouring in chastened diction, I will not say the vials of his wrath but pouring the proud man's contumely upon the new movement. It was then a new movement. We were weak, therefore worthless.

He closed his long thin lips an instant but, eager to be on, raised an outspanned hand to his spectacles and, with trembling thumb and ringfinger touching lightly the black rims, steadied them to a new focus.

Impromptu

In ferial tone he addressed J.J. O'Molloy:

-- Taylor had come there, you must know, from a sick bed. That he had prepared his speech I do not believe for there was not even one shorthandwriter in the hall. His dark lean face had a growth of shaggy beard round it. He wore a loose neckcloth and altogether he looked (though he was not) a dying man.

His gaze turned at once but slowly from J.J. O'Molloy's towards Stephen's face and then bent at once to the ground, seeking. His unglazed linen collar appeared behind his bent head, soiled by his withering hair. Still seeking, he said:

-- When Fitzgibbon's speech had ended John F. Taylor rose to reply. Briefly, as well as I can bring them to mind, his words were these.

He raised his head firmly. His eyes bethought themselves once more. Witless shellfish swam in the gross lenses to and fro, seeking outlet.

He began:

-- Mr Chairman, ladies and gentlemen: Great was my admiration in listening to the remarks addressed to the youth of Ireland a moment since by my learned friend. It seemed to me that I had been transported into a country far away from this country, into an age remote from this age, that I stood in ancient Egypt and that I was listening to the speech of some highpriest of that land addressed to the youthful Moses.

His listeners held their cigarettes poised to hear, their smoke ascending in frail stalks that flowered with his speech. And let our crooked smokes. Noble words coming. Look out. Could you try your hand at it yourself?

-- And it seemed to me that I heard the voice of that Egyptian highpriest raised in a tone of like haughtiness and like pride. I heard his words and their meaning was revealed to me.

From the Fathers

It was revealed to me that those things are good which yet are corrupted which neither if they were supremely good nor unless they were good could be corrupted. Ah, curse you! That's saint Augustine.

-- Why will you jews not accept our culture, our religion and our language? You are a tribe of nomad herdsmen; we are a mighty people. You have no cities nor no wealth: our cities are hives of humanity and our galleys, trireme and quadrireme, laden with all manner merchandise furrow the waters of the known globe. You have but emerged from primitive conditions: we have a literature, a priesthood, an agelong history and a polity.

Nile.

Child, man, effigy.

By the Nilebank the babemaries kneel, cradle of bulrushes: a man supple in combat: stonehorned, stonebearded, heart of stone.

-- You pray to a local and obscure idol: our temples, majestic and mysterious, are the abodes of Isis and Osiris, of Horus and Ammon Ra. Yours serfdom, awe and humbleness: ours thunder and the seas. Israel is weak and few are her children: Egypt is an host and terrible are her arms. Vagrants and daylabourers are you called: the world trembles at our name.

A dumb belch of hunger cleft his speech. He lifted his voice above it boldly:

-- But, ladies and gentlemen, had the youthful Moses listened to and accepted that view of life, had he bowed his head and bowed his will and bowed his spirit before that arrogant admonition he would never have brought the chosen people out of their house of bondage nor followed the pillar of the cloud by day. He would never have spoken with the Eternal amid lightnings on Sinai's mountaintop nor ever have come down with the light of inspiration shining in his countenance and bearing in his arms the tables of the law, graven in the language of the outlaw.

He ceased and looked at them, enjoying silence.

Ominous - for Him!

J.J. O'Molloy said not without regret:

-- And yet he died without having entered the land of promise.

-- A sudden - at - the - moment - though - from - lingering - illness - often - previously - expectorated - demise, Lenehan said. And with a great future behind him.

The troop of bare feet was heard rushing along the hallway and pattering up the staircase.

-- That is oratory, the professor said, uncontradicted.

Gone with the wind. Hosts at Mullaghmast and Tara of the kings. Miles of ears of porches. The tribune's words howled and scattered to the four winds. A people sheltered within his voice. Dead noise. Akasic records of all that ever anywhere wherever was. Love and laud him: me no more

I have money.

-- Gentlemen, Stephen said. As the next motion on the agenda paper may I suggest that the house do now adjourn?

-- You take my breath away. It is not perchance a French compliment? Mr O'Madden Burke asked. 'Tis the hour, methinks, when the winejug, metaphorically speaking, is most grateful in Ye ancient hostelry.

-- That it be and hereby is resolutely resolved. All who are in favour say ay, Lenehan announced. The contrary no. I declare it carried. To which particular boosing shed?... My casting vote is: Mooney's!

He led the way, admonishing:

-- We will sternly refuse to partake of strong waters, will we not? Yes, we will not. By no manner of means.

Mr O'Madden Burke, following close, said with an ally's lunge of his umbrella:

-- Lay on, Macduff!

-- Chip of the old block! the editor cried, slapping Stephen on the shoulder. Let us go. Where are those blasted keys?

He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out the crushed typesheets.

-- Foot and mouth. I know. That'll be all right. That'll go in. Where are they? That's all right.

He thrust the sheets back and went into the inner office.

Let Us Hope

J.J. O'Molloy, about to follow him in, said quietly to Stephen:

-- I hope you will live to see it published. Myles, one moment.

He went into the inner office, closing the door behind him.

-- Come along, Stephen, the professor said. That is fine, isn't it? It has the prophetic vision. Fuit Ilium! The sack of windy Troy. Kingdoms of this world. The masters of the Mediterranean are fellaheen today.

The first newsboy came pattering down the stairs at their heels and rushed out into the street, yelling:

-- Racing special!

Dublin. I have much, much to learn.

They turned to the left along Abbey street.

-- I have a vision too, Stephen said.

-- Yes, the professor said, skipping to get into step. Crawford will follow.

Another newsboy shot past them, yelling as he ran:

-- Racing special!

Dear Dirty Dublin

Dubliners.

-- Two Dublin vestals, Stephen said, elderly and pious, have lived fifty and fiftythree years in Fumbally's lane.

-- Where is that? the professor asked.

-- Off Blackpitts.

Damp night reeking of hungry dough. Against the wall. Face glistening tallow under her fustian shawl. Frantic hearts. Akasic records. Quicker, darlint!

On now. Dare it. Let there be life.

-- They want to see the views of Dublin from the top of Nelson's pillar. They save up three and tenpence in a red tin letterbox moneybox. They shake out the threepenny bits and a sixpence and coax out the pennies with the blade of a knife. Two and three in silver and one and seven in coppers. They put on their bonnets and best clothes and take their umbrellas for fear it may come on to rain.

-- Wise virgins, professor MacHugh said.

Life on the Raw

-- They buy one and fourpenceworth of brawn and four slices of panloaf at the north city dining rooms in Marlborough street from Miss Kate Collins, proprietress... They purchase-our and twenty ripe plums from a girl at the foot of Nelson's pillar to take off the thirst of the brawn. They give two threepenny bits to the gentleman at the turnstile and begin to waddle slowly up the winding staircase, grunting, encouraging each other, afraid of the dark, panting, one asking the other have you the brawn, praising God and the Blessed Virgin, threatening to come down, peeping at the airslits. Glory be to God. They had no idea it was that high.

Their names are Anne Kearns and Florence MacCabe. Anne Kearns has the lumbago for which she rubs on Lourdes water given her by a lady who got a bottleful from a passionist father. Florence MacCabe takes a crubeen and a bottle of double X for supper every Saturday.

-- Antithesis, the professor said, nodding twice. Vestal virgins. I can see them. What's keeping our friend?

He turned.

A bevy of scampering newsboys rushed down the steps, scampering in all directions, yelling, their white papers fluttering. Hard after them Myles Crawford appeared on the steps, his hat aureoling his scarlet face, talking with J.J. O'Molloy.

-- Come along, the professor cried, waving his arm.

He set off again to walk by Stephen's side.

Return of Bloom

-- Yes, he said. I see them.

-- Mr Bloom, breathless, caught in a whirl of wild newsboys near the offices of the Irish Catholic and Dublin Penny Journal, called:

-- Mr Crawford! A moment!

-- Telegraph! Racing special!

-- What is it? Myles Crawford said, falling back a pace.

A newsboy cried in Mr Bloom's face:

-- Terrible tragedy in Rathmines! A child bit by a bellows!

Interview with the Editor

Just this ad, Mr Bloom said, pushing through towards the steps, puffing, and taking the cutting from his pocket. I spoke with Mr Keyes just now. He'll give a renewal for two months, he says. After he'll see. But he wants a par to call attention in the Telegraph too, the Saturday pink. And he wants it if it's not too late I told councillor Nannetti from the Kilkenny People. I can have access to it in the national library. House of keys, don't you see? His name is Keyes. It's a play on the name. But he practically promised he'd give the renewal. But he wants just a little puff. What will I tell him, Mr Crawford?

K. M. A.

Will you tell him he can kiss my arse? Myles Crawford said, throwing out his arm for emphasis. Tell him that straight from the stable.

A bit nervy. Look out for squalls. All off for a drink. Arm in arm. Lenehan's yachting cap on the cadge beyond. Usual blarney. 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?

-- Well, Mr Bloom said, his eyes returning, if I can get the design I suppose it's worth a short par. He'd give the ad I think. I'll tell him... K.M.R.I.A.

-- He can kiss my royal Irish arse, Myles Crawford cried loudly over his shoulder. Any time he likes, tell him.

While Mr Bloom stood weighing the point and about to smile he strode on jerkily.

Raising the Wind

-- Nulla bona, Jack, he said, raising his hand to his chin. I'm up to here. I've been through the hoop myself. I was looking for a fellow to back a bill for me no later than last week. You must take the will for the deed. Sorry, Jack. With a heart and a half if I could raise the wind anyhow.

J. J. O'Molloy pulled a long face and walked on silently. They caught up on the others and walked abreast.

-- When they have eaten the brawn and the bread and wiped their twenty fingers in the paper the beard was wrapped in, they go nearer to the railings.

-- Something for you, the professor explained to Myles Crawford. Two old Dublin women on the top of Nelson's pillar.

Some Column! - That's What Waddler One Said

-- That's new, Myles Crawford said. That's copy. Out for the waxies' Dargle. Two old trickies, what?

-- But they are afraid the pillar will fall, Stephen went on. They see the roofs and argue about where the different churches are: Rathmines' blue dome, Adam and Eve's, saint Laurence O'Toole's. But it makes them giddy to look so they pull up their skirts...

Those Slightly Rambunctious Females

-- Easy all, Myles Crawford said, no poetic licence. We're in the archdiocese here.

-- And settle down on their striped petticoats, peering up at the statue of the onehandled adulterer.

-- Onehandled adulterer! the professor cried. I like that. I see the idea. I see what you mean.

Dames Donate Dublin's Cits Speedpills Velocitous Aeroliths, Belief

-- It gives them a crick in their necks, Stephen said, and they are too tired to look up or down or to speak. They put the bag of plums between them and eat the plums out of it one after another, wiping off with their handkerchiefs the plumjuice that dribbles out of their mouths and spitting the plumstones slowly out between the railings.

He gave a sudden loud young laugh as a close. Lenehan and Mr O'Madden Burke, hearing, turned, beckoned and led on across towards Mooney's.

-- Finished? Myles Crawford said. So long as they do no worse.

Sophist Wallops Haughty Helen Square on Proboscis. Spartans Gnash Molars. Ithacans Vow Pen is Champ

-- You remind me of Antisthenes, the professor said, a disciple of Gorgias, the sophist. It is said of him that none could tell if he were bitterer against others or against himself. He was the son of a noble and a bondwoman. And he wrote a book in which he took away the palm of beauty from Argive Helen and handed it to poor Penelope.

Poor Penelope. Penelope Rich.

They made ready to cross O'Connell street.

Hello There, Central!

At various points along the eight lines tramcars with motionless trolleys stood in their tracks, bound for or from Rathmines, Rathfarnham, Blackrock, Kingstown and Dalkey, Sandymount Green, Ringsend and Sandymount Tower, Donnybrook, Palmerston Park and Upper Rathmines, all still, becalmed in short circuit. Hackney cars, cabs, delivery waggons, mail-vans, private broughams, aerated mineral water floats with rattling crates of bottles, rattled, lolled, horsedrawn, rapidly.

What? - and Likewise - Where?

-- But what do you call it? Myles Crawford asked. Where did they get the plums?

Virgilian, Says Pedagogue. Sophomore Plumps for Old Man Moses

-- Call it, wait, the professor said, opening his long lips wide to reflect. Call it, let me see. Call it: deus nobis hc otia fecit.

-- No, Stephen said, I call it A Pisgah Sight of Palestine or the Parable of the Plums.

-- I see, the professor said.

He laughed richly.

-- I see, he said again with new pleasure. Moses and the promised land. We gave him that idea, he added to J. J. O'Molloy.

Horatio is Cynosure this Fair June Day

J. J. O'Molloy sent a weary sidelong glance cowards the statue and held his peace.

-- I see, the professor said.

He halted on sir John Gray's pavement island and peered aloft at Nelson through the meshes of his wry smile.

Diminished Digits Prove Too Titillating for Frisky Frumps. Anne Wimbles, Flo Wangles - Yet Can You Blame Them?

-- Onehandled adulterer, he said grimly. That tickles me I must say.

-- Tickled the old ones too, Myles Crawford said, if the God Almighty's truth was known.

-------------------------------------------

[1]希勃尼亚是拉丁文中对爱尔兰的称谓，多用于文学作品中。

[2]E・R・是Edwardus Rex(爱德华王的拉丁文称呼)的首字。

[3]这是坐落在北亲王街十七号的一家货栈。

[4]红穆雷是约翰・穆雷的绰号，系乔伊斯以他那个在《自由人报》会计科工作的同名二舅为原型而塑造的人物。参看艾尔曼的《詹姆斯・乔伊斯》(第19页)。

[5]戴维・斯蒂芬斯是作者根据都柏林一个同名的报亭老板塑造的形象。当爱德华七世于一九0三年访问爱尔兰时，他曾和国王打过交道，从那以后便以国王的信使自居。

[6]威廉・布雷登(1865一1933)，爱尔兰律师，《自由人报》主编(1892一1916)。

[7]指威廉・布雷登。

[8]吉尼斯啤酒，参看第五章注[44]。

[9]乔万尼・马蒂乌・马里奥(1810一1883)，意大利歌手，出身贵族家庭，一八七一年最后一次演出。当时布卢姆才五岁。

[10]《玛尔塔》(1847)是法国歌剧作曲家弗里德里希・弗赖赫尔封・弗洛托(1812一1883)用德文写的五幕轻歌剧，后译成意大利文。写英国安妮女王宫廷里的宫女哈丽特装扮成村女，化名玛尔塔，来到里奇蒙集市，遇到富裕农场主莱昂内尔并相爱。玛尔塔一度逃跑，致使莱昂内尔神经失常，直到把集市上初次相见的情景扮演给他看，他才恢复理智，于是有情人终成眷属。

[11]这两行摘自《玛尔塔》第4幕中莱昂内尔的咏叹调。

[12]艾尔曼在《詹姆斯・乔伊斯》一书(第288页)中说，这里的主教大人指都柏林大主教威廉・]・沃尔什(1841一1921)。 一八八九年他曾带头谴责巴涅尔(参看第二章注[81])，因而惹怒了支持巴涅尔的《自由人报》发行人托马斯・塞克斯顿。多年来，他的报纸处处贬低沃尔什。沃尔什经常提出抗议。“打了两次电话”即指此事。牧杖见第三章注[27]。

[13]约瑟夫・帕特利克・南尼蒂(1851一1915)，在爱尔兰出生的意大利人，当时在《自由人报》社担任排字房工长。他又是英国议会下院议员兼都柏林市政委员(1900一1906)。

[14]他指南尼蒂。

[15]学院草地是位于都柏林市中心的一区。南尼蒂常说，他并不是个职业政治家，而是个从事政治活动的工人。

[16]官方公报指每星期二、五出版的《都柏林公报》，它是经英国政府文书局印刷和发行的。

[17]英国女王安妮于一七一四年逝世的消息早已家喻户晓后，英国散文家约瑟夫・艾迪生(1672一1719)所办刊物《旁观者》才报道说:“安妮女王驾崩。”从此，这个句子遂成为“过时消息”的代用语。

[18]廷纳欣奇男爵领地位于都柏林市东南十二英里处。一七九七年，爱尔兰议会把它奖给了亨利・格拉顿(1746一1820)。他曾于一七八二年领导斗争，迫使英国准许爱尔兰立法独立。

[19]巴利纳是爱尔兰马尤郡的一应小商埠。《自由人周刊》辟有“市场新闻”专栏。

[20]《自由人周刊》有一栏题为“园艺琐记”，专门探讨农业及畜牧业方面的问题。

[21]指《自由人周刊》所编的“我们的漫画”专辑。通常刊登的并非讽刺画，而是政治讽刺诗。

[22]《人物》是托马斯・鲍尔・奥康纳(1848一1929)主编的每册一便士、逢星期三出版的周刊。奥康纳是个爱尔兰新闻记者、报刊经营者及政治家，另外还在伦敦主编《太阳》、《星报》、《星周刊》等报刊。

[23]大多是照片，指的是本世纪初《自由人周刊・国民新闻》照相感光制版副刊。

[24]文森特・卡普拉尼在《詹姆斯・乔伊斯与我的祖父》(1982)一文中说，本世纪初他的祖父文森特・梅诺蒂・卡普拉尼(约1869一1932)参加了《自由人报》印刷工会。他和胞弟曾与一对奥康纳姐妹同时举行婚礼。

[25]一九0六年，南尼蒂任都柏林市市长。

[26]高个儿约翰指范宁。他是小说中虚构的都柏林市副行政长官。《都柏林人》中的《纪念日，在委员会办公室》里就曾提到他。另一篇《恩宠》中，说他是“注册经纪人，市长竞选的幕后决策者”。

[27]钥匙议院指曼岛{参看第六章注[50])下议院。

[28]钥匙议院的原文是House of Keys。院徽的图案由两把十字交叉的钥匙构成。KeyeS(凯斯)与keys发音相近。亚历山大・凯斯所开的店叫House of Keyes(凯斯商店)，所以他把议院的这个微记用在店铺的广告中了。

[29]这是意大利文，意思是“要”。参看第四章注[52]。

[30]“看一个……味的”：这里，作者把原文拆开，插进一些说明。

[31]英语中，墓地(cemetery)与匀称(symmetry)发音相近。

[32]巴尔斯布里奇位于都柏林东南郊。自一七三一年起，每年在这里举办马匹展示会・吸引世界各地的马匹爱好者。一九0四年是在八月二十三日至二十六日举行的。

[33]关于蒙克斯，在第十六章有续笔(见该章注[194]及有关正文)。

[34]逾越节是犹太民族的主要节期，约在阴历三、四月间。犹太人以此节为一年的开始。据《出埃及记》第12章，天主叫犹太人宰羊把血涂在门楣上，天使击杀埃及人的头生子和头生的牲畜时，见有血迹的人家即越门而过，称为“逾越”。随后，摩西率领犹太人离开埃及，摆脱了奴役。

[35]《哈加达》书是犹太教法典中的传说部分，载有《出埃及记》故事及礼仪。

[36]原文为希伯来文。按希伯来文是自右至左写，所以说是“倒指着”。

[37]《出埃及记》第l3章第8节有“从埃及为奴之家出来的这一天”之句。第14节又有“将我们从埃及为奴之家领出来”之句。与这里的意思刚好相反。

[38]原文为希伯来文，系犹太教和基督教的欢呼用语，赞美神的意思。

[39]原文为希伯来文，系赞美歌，见《旧约・申命记》第6章第4节。

[40]雅各(以色列入的祖先)的十二个儿子的名字见《出埃及记》第1章。

[41]羊羔，见《出埃及记》第12章第3节。

[42]杖，见《出埃及记》第7至8章。写亚伦用手中的杖一击地，就使埃及遍地的灰尘都变成虱子。

[43]水，见《出埃及记》第17章第6节。以上均指《出埃及记》中的故事。

[44]语搞自逾越节中唱的《查德・加迪亚》(希伯来语，意思是《一只小羚羊》)。此歌以弱肉强食为主题，而排在末位、受害最深的小羚羊象征着以色列老百姓。

[45]指亚历山人・汤姆印刷出版公司。《自由人报》社与该公司之间仅相隔一座楼。

[46]爱琳(Erin)是爱尔兰古称，由盖尔语爱利(Eire)演变而来。至今仍用作富有诗意的称呼。

[47]《电讯晚报》的出纳员名叫拉特利奇。每逢发薪日，他就到各间办公室去转一趟，亲自把工资发到每个人手里。人们戏称他为“幽灵走来了”。乔伊斯借麦克休教授之口把此事写了进去。(见艾尔曼的《詹姆斯・乔伊斯》第289页。)

[48]架成拱形，原文作overarching。兰伯特故意把它读成相近的overarsing。按over含有“蒙在……上面”之意，而arsing则是他杜撰的，系将名词arse(屁股)写成了进行式。

[49]色诺芬(参看第一章注[14])是苏格拉底的弟子，出生于呵提卡一个雅典人家庭。苏格拉底于公元前三九九年被处死后，色诺芬曾参加斯巴达国王阿格西劳斯二世所指挥的部队，他们在科罗尼亚战役中打败了希腊联军。

[50]乌拉松是希腊东南部阿提卡东北岸的一片平原。这里是古战场，公元前四九0年，雅典军队曾在此击败前来进犯的波斯大军。

[51]这里套用拜伦的长诗《唐磺》(1818一1823)第3章的诗句。原诗作：“群山俯瞅乌拉松，乌拉松濒临大海。”

[52]赫奇斯・艾尔・查特顿(1820一1910)，都柏林大学副校长，历任副检察长(1866)、首席检察官(1867)等职。

[53]这里套用十九世纪末叶流行的一首歌曲，只是把原歌中的“汤米”改成了“约翰尼”。

[54]马库斯・图利乌斯・西塞罗(公元前106一前43)， 罗马政治家、律师、古典学者、作家。他的演说辞内容充实，说服力强，讲究层次和对称。教授为了讽刺丹・道森那篇演说词内容空虚，故意把它说成是西塞罗的文章。

[55]查理・丹・追森(参看第六章注[20])是都柏林面包公司老板，曾任都柏林市市长(1882一1883)，一九0四年任都柏林市政府收税官。

[56]利内翰是曾出现在《都柏林人・两个浪子》中的一个人物，系浪子之一，既没有正当职业，也未成家。

[57]语出自《旧约・何西阿书》第8章第7节。意思是种下恶行，必收十倍的恶报。

[58]当时都柏林确实有个叫作托马斯・菲茨杰拉德的律师。与狄・菲茨杰拉德共同开办一家律师事务所。

[59]加布里埃尔・康罗伊是《都柏林人・死者》中的一个人物，经常为《每日快报》撰写文艺评论，就像乔伊斯本人在现实生活中所作的那样。《快报》为《每日快报》(1851一1921)的简称。这是爱尔兰的一家立场保守的报纸，不鼓励民族独立。

[60]《爱尔兰独立日报》的简称。这是巴涅尔垮台后创办的报纸，但他逝世后两十月(即1891年12月18日)才出版。不久就由反对巴涅尔的人们接管，开始持极端保守的立场。一九00年落入威廉・马丁・墨菲(1844一1921)之手。墨菲是个铁路承包商，一度被选入议会(1885－1892)，一八九0年与巴涅尔反目。

[61]语出自《伊索寓言・人和羊人》。羊人是希腊神话中一种山野小神。他和一个人交朋友，看见此人把手放在嘴上呵气取暖，又嫌食物太烫， 用嘴把它吹凉。羊人认为他反复无常，便说了这句话，遂和他绝了交。

[62]在《哈姆莱特》一剧第1幕第1场中，霍拉旭说:“支配潮汐的月亮……”后来又说：“可是确，清晨披着赤褐色的外衣，已经踏着那边东方高山上的露水走过来了。”丹・道森这篇文章只描述了月夜的爱尔兰，并没有像霍拉旭那样继续写迎来曙光的爱尔兰，所以麦克休说“他忘记了《哈姆莱特》”。

[63]威尔士梳子指五个手指。这是对威尔士人的贬语，说他们粗野，不整洁，用手代替梳子。

[64]原文作Doughy Daw。Doughy的意思是夹生。Daw可作傻瓜解。这里， 教授故意用与文章作者丹・道森(Dan Dawson)的姓名相近的这样两个词来挖苦他。

[65]韦瑟厄普，见第六章注[153]。

[66]冒牌乡绅原是弗朗西斯・希金斯《1746－1802》的绰号，这里以此戏称《自由人报》主编。希金斯本是都柏林市的一名公务员，冒充乡绅，与一个有地位的年轻女子结婚。接着又以开赌场起家，当上了《自由人报》老板，并利用报纸版面诽谤爱尔兰爱国志士。他还把爱德华・菲茨杰拉德(参看第十章注[143])躲藏的地方向当局告了密，获得一千英镑奖赏。

[67]指参加葬礼之后。

[68]主编所提到的北科克义勇军，在一七九八年的爱尔兰反英起义中曾站在英军一边。他们接连吃败仗。这支军队跟北美洲的俄亥俄风马牛不相及。一七五五年，英国倒是曾派爱德华・布雷多克少将(1695－1755)赴弗吉尼亚，任驻北美的英军指挥官。为了将法国人逐出俄亥俄盆地，他率兵远征迪凯纳堡(即今匹兹堡)的法国据点。但中途遭法军及其印第安盟军的突袭，远征遂以失败告终。

[69]风鸣琴是靠风力鸣响的一种弦乐器。原文作HarPEolian，也作“风神的竖琴”解。凯尔特吟游诗人喜奏竖琴，它是爱尔兰这个国家的象征。在土话中，“竖琴”也指爱尔兰天主教徒。

[70]清除留在牙缝中的食物碎屑用的细棉线。

[71]加拿大诈骗案指当时有个化名萨菲诺・沃特的人，被控以替扎列斯基等人购买赴加拿大的船票为名，诈骗钱财。

[72]《体育》是《自由人报》社逢星期六发行的售价一便士的小报，专载每周所有的体育消息。这一期是赛马特辑。

[73]原文为法语。

[74]原文作A・D・为拉丁文AnnoDomini(吾主之年)的简称。原指纪元后，口语中，有时亦指“老年”、“衰龄”。

[75]韦克斯福德是爱尔兰东南瑞伦斯特省一郡，也指该郡海湾和首府。 这两句歌词出自爱尔兰民谣《韦克斯福德的男子汉》(1798)。这首民谣描述了在 一七九八年爆发的民众起义中，韦克斯福德的男子汉们怎样在奥拉尔特镇击溃北科克义勇军(参看本章注[68])。

[76]这里套用约翰・弥尔顿(1608－1674)的长诗《失乐园》(1667)中描述亚当和夏娃被逐出伊甸园的诗句，“整个世界在他们前面。”

[77]椭圆酒家坐落在《自由人报》社南边。

[78]帕迪・胡珀是都柏林一记者，在《自由人报》担任新闻通讯员。

[79]杰克・霍尔是都柏林一记者，以善于讲轶事掌故著称。

[80]原文作calumet，系印第安人谈判时使用的一种长杆旱烟袋，象征着和平。

[81]原文为法语。

[82]语出自《卡斯蒂利亚的玫瑰》(1857)第3 幕中化装成赶骡人的卡斯蒂利亚国王曼纽尔唱给“卡斯蒂利亚的玫瑰”艾尔微拉听的咏叹调。这部歌剧的作者为英裔爱尔兰歌唱家、作曲家迈克尔・威廉・巴尔夫(1808－1870)。

[83]原文为拉丁文。

[84]布里克斯顿位于伦敦西南部兰姆贝斯区。在本世纪初，此地曾被认为是枯燥乏味的工业化地区的典型。

[85]语出自美国诗人、小说家埃德加・爱伦・坡(1809－1849)的《献给海伦》(1831、1845)一诗的第2段。

[86]英文中，帝国的(imperial)、专横的(imperious)、强制的(imperative)这三个形容词的语根都是imper。

[87]原文为拉丁文。

[88]原文作“thefirstchapterofGuinnes”。这是双关语。英文里，《创世记》作Genesis，而吉尼斯(参看本章注[8])作Guinness，发音相近。直译就是:《吉尼斯》第1章。暗指爱尔兰人热衷于喝吉尼斯公司所酿造的烈牲黑啤酒。

[89]《罗马法》是罗马奴隶制国家的法律总称。其中最早的是公元前五世纪中叶颁布的《十二表法》，系一部保护私有制反映商品生产最完备、最典型的古代法律，对现代资本主义国家的民法有较大影响。

[90]庞修斯・彼拉多，公元一世纪罗马帝国驻犹太地方的总督(约26－约36在职)。据《新约》记载，耶稣是由他判决钉死在十字架上的。

[91]指克里斯托弗・帕利斯(1831－1920)，爱尔兰律师，税务法庭(于1873年归并高等法院)庭长。

[92]王家大学是一八八0年创立于都柏林的一个审核并认可学位的机构。

[93]多尼戈尔是爱尔兰多尼龙尔郡的海港和商业城镇，生产手织花呢。

[94]奥马登・伯克这个人物曾出现在《都柏林人・母亲》中。

[95]原文为法语。

[96]“扬起……亲吻”，这四句诗系斯蒂芬根据《我的忧愁在海上》(参看第三章注[169])一诗的末段润色加工而成。

[97]参看第二章注[85]。

[98]奥鲁尔克，参看第二章注[80]。

[99]指哈布斯堡王朝(lO2O－1919)，即奥地利帝国，系欧洲最大的王朝之一。

[100]封蒂尔柯涅尔伯爵马克西米连・卡尔・奥唐奈是个爱尔兰移民之子，一八一二年生在奥地利，任奥地利皇帝(1867年奥匈帝国成立， 兼匈牙利国王)弗兰西斯・约瑟夫一世(1848－1916在位)的侍从武官。 一八五三年他陪皇帝沿着维也纳周围的堡垒散步。一天，他及时击倒了一个刺伤皇帝的匈牙利裁缝，皇帝说他救了自己一命。

[101]大不列颠和爱尔兰国王爱德华七世于一九0三年对奥匈帝国作国事访问时，在维也纳将英国陆军元帅头衔授与皇帝弗兰西斯・约瑟夫一世。一九0 四年六月九日，奥匈帝国皇位继承人奥地利大公弗兰茨・裴迪南(1863－1914)对英国作国事访问时，回赠给爱德华七世一根奥地利陆军元帅官杖。

[102]“野鹅”，参看第三章注[68]。

[l03]指对奥地利皇帝行刺的匈牙利裁缝，参看本章注[l00]。

[104]创造了真正的文化的希腊却败在罗马手下。克劳福德作为英国的属国爱尔兰的一个公民，这里把英国比作罗马。

[105]原文为拉丁文。

[106]英文中，勋爵和主(指耶稣、天主)均为Lord。 罗伯特・塞西尔・索尔兹伯里勋爵(1830－1903)是英国保守党领袖，曾三次出任首相。他主张不对爱尔兰作任何让步。

[107]伦敦西区是繁华地带，有上层人士的俱乐部。此处指索尔兹伯里等人坐在那里舒适的沙发上行使对爱尔兰的统治权。

[108]原文为希腊文。天主教和希腊正教用作弥撒的起始语。

[109]原文为希腊文。

[110]闪米特族是分布在亚洲西南部的大种族，古代包括希伯来人、亚迷人、腓尼基人、阿拉伯人、巴比伦人等。撒克逊族是日耳曼民族的一文，古时居住在今石勒苏益格地区和波罗的海沿岸。这里指盎格鲁－撒克逊族。闪米特族和撒克逊族都不晓得的母音，即希腊文第二十个字母upsilon， 这是希伯来字母和英文字母中所没有的。英文中用u和y来代替。

[111]、[112]原文为希腊文。

[111]、[112]原文为希腊文。

[113]修厕所的暗指罗马，挖下水道的暗指英国。

[114]特拉法尔加是加的斯和直布罗陀海峡之间的一个海角。一八0五年，法、西舰队在此溃败于纳尔逊麾下的英国舰队，损失了约二十艘舰船。

[115]伊哥斯波塔米是古代色雷斯的一条河流，它注入甘勒斯潘海峡。公元前四0五年，来山得率领的斯巴达舰队偷袭雅典海军的停泊地， 使其几乎全军覆没，次年雅典被迫投降。精神帝国即指希腊。

[116]原文为拉丁文。

[117]皮勒斯(参看第二章注[1])曾出兵攻打马其顿，把雅典从德米特里的包围中解救出来，又忍受惨重伤亡，打败罗马军队。后来在梦中接受神谕，误以为必胜无疑，就去大举进攻斯巴达，结果死于阿尔戈斯巷战中。

[118]“他们开赴战场， 然而总吃败仗”一语出自马修・阿诺德的讲演稿《论凯尔特文学研究》(1867)的引言。叶芝曾用此语作为收在《玫瑰集》(1893)中一首诗的标题。

[119]原文为法语。

[120]参看第二章注[15]。

[121]可笑，原作乔・米勒。此人是英王乔冶一世(1714－1727在位) 时代享有盛名的喜剧演员。在十九世纪，他的笑话集多次再版，从而使他的名字在俚语中即成为“笑话”的代名词。

[122]即盖乌斯・萨卢斯特斯・克里斯普斯(公元前86－公元前35)， 罗马政治家和历史学家。穆利根的话含有挖苦意，因萨卢斯特结束政治生涯后虽在历史著作中揭露了罗马政治的腐败，但他本人从政期间(他曾任保民官、行政官、行省总督)也曾巧取豪夺。

[123]这是穆利根说过的话，参看第一章注[37]及有关正文。

[124]《卡斯蒂利亚的玫瑰》，见本章注[82]。原文中，“TheRoseofCastile”这一剧名与“Rowsofcaststeel”(“并排的铸铁”)读音相近。

[125]一七八九年七月十四日，巴黎群众攻占了关押政治犯的巴士底狱，革命政府下令将它拆毁。

[126]尼古拉・博市里科夫(1839－1904)原为俄国陆军将官，一八九八年任俄国驻芬兰大公国总督。由于他大肆镇压芬兰人的消极抵抗，一九0四年六月十六日上午(都柏林时间为清晨)被反对俄国的芬兰人所刺杀。

[127]原文为拉丁文。

[128]语出自英国小说家、戏剧家爱德华・布尔沃－利顿(1803－1873)的戏剧《黎塞留》(1838)第3幕第1场中的台词，下半句是：“没有失败一词”。

[129]在《艺术家年轻时的写照》一书第1章中，斯蒂芬因打碎了限镜，无法完成作业。教导主任多兰神父对他说：“懒惰的小捣蛋鬼。我从你的脸上就看得出你是个捣蛋鬼。懒散、吊儿郎当的小调皮鬼!”

[130]勃里斯－因－奥索里是爱尔兰王后郡的市镇， 位于都柏林西南六十六英里处。一八四三年，爱尔兰民族独立运动领袖奥康内尔曾在此举行大规模的群众集会。爱尔兰民族主义党领袖约翰・雷德蒙(1856－1918)曾于一九0 四年试图恢复奥康内尔当年举办的那种轰轰烈烈的群众集会，然而毕竟要逊色多了。

[131]杰克・麦卡锡是《自由人报》一记者。杰克与茅坑(jakes)同音。

[132]他指主编迈尔斯・克劳福德。

[133]加拉赫，参看第六章注[8]。

[134]指都柏林的克拉伦斯商业饭店。

[135]这里，克劳福德把年份搞错了。按照史实，应作一八八二年。 转年二月十日，“常胜军”成员之一的彼得・凯里在法庭上作证，供述了所有参与作案的人。

[136]暗杀事件，参看第二章注[81]。

[137]本书第十七章中说，斯蒂芬出生于一八八二年。乔伊斯本人也出生于一八八二年的二月二日。

[138]《纽约世界报》是美国金融家杰伊・古尔德在一八七六年创办的日报。一八八二年五月七、八两日，用了不少篇福来报道凤凰公园暗杀案。

[139]以上三个人都是“常胜军”成员。据法庭上的证词，乔・布雷迪为主凶，他将两个被害人刺倒在地。蒂姆・凯里割断了他们的喉咙。作案者乘的出租马车是迈克尔・卡瓦纳驾驭的。

[140]“剥山羊皮”即杰姆斯・菲茨哈里斯的外号。他曾宰掉一只心爱的山羊以卖皮偿还酒债，遂有此绰号。参与凤凰公园暗杀案后，他赶一辆用以迷惑警方的出租马车，取直道从公园来到都柏林。他被判无期徒刑，一九0二年假释出狱。

[141]在一九0四年，巴特桥是都柏林架在利菲河上的桥梁中尽东头的一应。实际上“剥山羊皮”并不是那个马车夫棚的老板，他像下文中提到的冈穆利(一个穷困落魄的中产户)那样，也为都柏林市政府看管石料。

[142]布朗森是伦敦的一家股份有限公司。

[143]公园大门指凤凰公园东南距都柏林中心区最近的大门。

[144]诺克马龙大门是凤凰公园尽西头的大门。

[145]这些作案的“常胜军”曾在都柏林郊外的戴维酒吧停下来喝酒。

[146]参看第二章注[76]。

[147]迪克・亚当斯(生于1846年)，先后任《科克观察报》和《自由人报》记者。一八七三年成为爱尔兰律师团的一名成员。在凤凰公园暗杀案中，他曾大力为杰姆斯・菲茨哈里斯等人辩护。

[148]这里套用《创世记》第2章第7节：“后来，天主……把生命的气吹进他的鼻孔，他就成为有生命的人。”

[149]这是文字游戏。原文作:“Madam，I’mAdam.And Able was I ere l saw Elba.这两个短句子，从哪头念都一样，中间用“and”相连接。Eva(夏娃)与Elba读音相近，亚当与夏娃所生的第二个儿子亚伯(Abel)又与Able读音相近，所以可读作:“我是亚当，在见到夏娃之前曾是亚伯。”另一种读法是，由于拿破仑曾说过他的字典里没有“不可能”一词，他失败后被流放到厄尔巴(Elba)岛上，同时他又是个阳萎者，把这几种因素揉在一起，将前面的短句重新组合成:Madam，l mad am.(疯了，我疯了。)后面的短句则理解成:“在见到厄尔巴之前，我是不知道不可能一词的。”Able语意双关。既可理解为：“能够做到”，也可理解为：“并非阳萎”。

[150]亲王街的老太婆是《自由人报》的绰号。

[151]“哀哭并咬牙切齿”一语出自《马太福音》第8章第12节。

[152]格雷戈尔・格雷是当时都柏林一美术家。

[153]托・鲍・是托马斯・鲍威尔・奥康纳(见本章注[22])的简称。《星报》是他于一八八八年创办的，他本人主编了两年。

[154]拉尔夫・D・布卢门菲尔德(1864－1948)，生在美国的报人，一九0四年成为伦敦《每日快报》编辑。

[155]费利克斯・派亚特(1810－1889)，法国的一个社会革命家、新闻记者。一八七一年被卷入巴黎公社起义的漩涡中，后逃往伦敦，为几家报纸撰稿，并主编了几种革命刊物。

[156]克里斯・卡利南是都柏林一记者。

[157]这是文字游戏。利内翰把“Damnclever”(鬼得很)一词的首字互相调换，变成“Clamndeve”。

[158]按一九0四年六月九日的《自由人报》报道说，尽管自一九0三年十一月以来，警察当局三令五申，予以禁止，小贩们仍热衷于出售有关凤凰公司暗杀案的明信片和纪念品。记录法官是季审法院中最初在审判时担任记录、以后对提交季审法院的刑事案件负责单独预审者。

[159]当时的爱尔兰总督达德利伯爵(1866－1932)的夫人。

[160]指一九0三年二月二十七日刮的一场都柏林有史以来最猛烈的台风。

[161]“老大哥”是帕特里克・泰南的绰号。他是新闻记者，曾于一九0四年创办《爱尔兰“常胜军”及其时代》报，支持民族主义秘密团体“常胜军”。

[162]詹姆斯・怀特赛德(1804－1876)，爱尔兰高级律师，以雄辩和为丹尼尔・奥康内尔(1844)以及斯密斯・奥布赖恩(1848)辩护闻名于世。一八六六年成为爱尔兰高等法院院长。

[163]伊萨克・巴特(1813－1879)，爱尔兰高级律师，政治家，也是雄辩家，曾为史密斯・奥布赖恩(1848)和芬尼社社员们(1865－1866)进行辩护。

[164]托马斯・奥黑根(1812－1885)，爱尔兰高级律师，法律专家，是头一个被委任为爱尔兰大法官(1868－1874，1880－1881)的天主教徒。因在一八八一年通过《爱尔兰土地法案》时，为爱尔兰热烈辩护而名声大噪。

[165]这里，作者是在语音上作文章。冒斯(mouth，嘴)、扫斯(south，南)、泡特(pout，噘嘴)、奥特(out，向外)、少特(shout，呼喊)、芝歇斯(drouth，干旱)均为英语叠韵单词的译音。

[166]参看《(神曲・净界》)第29篇:“我看见两个老人，衣服式样不同，但是在态度上是同样庄重而可敬的。”

[167]“给你太平……的一刻”，原文为意大利语。出自《神曲・地狱》第5篇。

[168]“穿过……幽暗的地方”，原文为意大利语，出自《神曲・地狱》第5篇。

[169]“打着……金光旗”，原文为意大利语，出自《神曲・天堂》第31篇。金光旗是天使加百列赐给古时法兰西王的军旗，金地烈火图案。据认为打着此旗，无往而不胜。

[170]“更加……注视”，原文为意大利语，出自《神曲・天堂》第31篇。

[171]拖姆(tomb，坟墓)、卧姆(womb，子宫)为英语叠韵单词的译音。

[172]第三种职业指律师、文人、记者、政论家等著述家；第一二种为神职人员和医务人员。

[173]克劳福想是科克人，这里把他和关于科克腿的阿尔斯特歌谣拉扯在一起。科克(Cork)是双关语，既是地名，又作“"软木”解。该歌谣的大意是：有个荷兰商人抬脚去踢个穷亲戚，却踢到一只小木桶上，把腿弄断了，只得装一条软木假腿，结果跑个不停，使他不得安宁。

[174]亨利・格拉顿(1746－1820)，早年为律师。一七七五年进入爱尔兰议会，不久即以卓越的口才成为爱尔兰民族主义运动领袖。一七八二年迫使英国给予爱尔兰立法独立。

[175]亨利・弗勒德(1732－1791)，爱尔兰政治家，有演说天才。他是英国议会和爱尔兰议会议员，曾协助格拉顿迫使英国政府放弃对爱尔兰贸易的种种限制(1779)。

[176]狄靡西尼(公元前384前322)，古代希腊政治家，伟大的雄辩家，长期为人撰写状纸。他的演说《金冠辞》被认为是历史上雄辩术的杰作。

[177]埃待蒙・伯克(1729－1797)，英国政治家，生于都柏林。他善于辞令，一七七四年当选为议会议员，极力主张英国放宽对爱尔兰的经济控制并允许爱尔兰在立法上的独立。

[178]艾尔弗雷德・C・哈姆斯沃思(1865－1922)，英国编辑、出版家。他出生在都柏林西边的查佩利佐德。

[179]指美国出版家约瑟夫・普利策(1847－1911)。他不是哈姆斯沃思的堂弟，而是朋友。这里套用汤姆・泰勒(1817－1880)所写的《我们的美国堂弟》(1858)一戏的剧名。普利策于一八八三年接手《纽约世界报》(参看本章注

[180]《珀迪・凯利要闻汇编》是都柏林的一份幽默周刊(1832－1834)。《皮尤的遭遇》(1700－约1750)是都柏林最早的一份日报。《斯基勃林之鹰》(约1840－1930)是一份周报，在一九0四年，易名《科克郡之鹰》。

[181]这里套用《马太福音》第6章第34节:明天自有明天的忧虑;一天的难处一天当就够了。

[182]爱尔兰义勇军是一七七八年为了防备法军入侵而组织起来的。一七八二年曾支援格拉顿争取爱尔兰议会独立的斗争。

[183]查尔斯・卢卡斯(1713－1771)，爱尔兰医生，爱国主义者，经常为《自由人报》撰稿。约翰・菲尔波特・柯伦(1750－1817)，爱尔兰律师、政治家。爱尔兰争取自由的重要鼓吹者和拥护者。爱尔兰爱国志士亨利・格拉顿的朋友和同盟者。

[184]指西摩・布什(1853－1922)。他原是高级法庭的爱尔兰律师，后与布卢克爵士夫人姘居。爵士以控告布什犯通奸罪相威胁，故于一九0一年移居英国。一九0四年任英国王室法律顾问。

[185]查尔斯・肯德尔・布什(1767－1843)，爱尔兰律师，雄辩家。亨利・格拉顿的支持者。一八二二年任爱尔兰民事法院院长。

[186]这是哈姆莱特王子之父的亡灵对他说的话。亡灵说，自己的兄弟怎样把毒药注入他的耳腔，害死他后娶了王后，见《哈姆莱特》第1幕第5场。

[187]“双背禽兽”暗喻男女交媾(见《奥瑟罗》第1幕第1场)。在《哈姆菜特》第1幕第5场中，亡灵对哈姆莱特王子说，克劳狄斯是个“奸淫的畜生”，而王后只是“外表上装得非常贞淑”。斯蒂芬把亡灵的话理解为：克劳狄斯早在哈姆莱特王在世期间就与王后勾搭成奸。

[188]原文为意大利语。

[189]原文为拉丁文。指惩罚暴行要以命偿命，以牙还牙。见《出埃及记》第21章第23至25节。下文中提到的《摩西》，指米开朗琪罗于一五一三至一五一六年间所雕的石像。都柏林法院的门廊里也有一座《摩西》石像。

[190]“我”指斯蒂芬。

[191]德国哲学家弗里德里希・谢林(1775－1854)在《艺术哲学》中说：建筑乃是“空间的音乐，犹如冻结的音乐”。

[192]“半神半人的形象”一语出自布莱克的诗集《天真之歌》(1789)中的《神圣的形象》。

[193]威廉・马吉尼斯实有其人，为都柏林大学教授，乔伊斯曾受教于他。他赏识乔伊斯的才华，并认为乔伊斯是为了嘲弄拉塞尔才与他接近的。(见马文・马加拉内尔编集的《詹姆斯・乔伊斯杂录》，1962。)

[194]指二十世纪初叶着迷于神秘主义和通神学的一批文人。拉塞尔是一九0四年经海伦娜・勃拉瓦茨基所认可的通神学会都柏林大白屋支部(又名大雅利安支部)的成员。

[195]“乳白色的”和“沉寂的”是拉塞尔本人以及受他影响的年轻诗人(如埃拉・扬)在诗中喜用的词句。

[196]A・E・是拉塞尔的笔名，参看第三章注[lO9]。

[197]海伦娜・佩带罗夫娜・勃拉瓦茨基(1831－1891)，俄国文通神学家、著作家，一度嫁给俄国军官勃拉瓦茨基，不久便分手。一八七五年与奥尔科特等人共同建立通神学会。一八七九年赴印度，三年后创办该会杂志《通神学家》，自任主编(1879－1888)。她研究神秘主义和招魂术，多年来足迹遍及亚、欧两洲及美国。晚年在伦敦潜心写作。

[198]美国记者指宾夕法尼亚大学的科尼利厄斯・韦安特教授。韦安特曾于一九0二年夏访问拉塞尔，并在《爱尔兰戏剧与剧作家》(1913)一书中，谈及一个不满二十一岁的少年(即指乔伊斯)夜间在街上等着拉塞尔，向他打招呼，并跟他探讨文学艺术问题。接着，少年懊丧地叹气并断然说，A・E・当不成他的救世主。

[199]约翰・弗・泰勒(约1850－1902)，爱尔兰记者，并为出席高等法院的律师。

[200]指一七七0年创立的三一学院史学会，泰勒是在一九0一年十月二十四日发表这个演说的。该史学会所举行的大学讨论会是爱尔兰乃至大不列颠历史最悠久的。

[201]杰拉尔德・菲茨吉本(1837－1909)于一八七八竿任上诉法庭庭长。他虽然是个爱尔生人，在任国民教育督察时，却试图使爱尔兰英国化。

[202]爱尔兰语及盖尔语，参看第九章注[180]。

[203]蒂摩西(蒂姆为爱称)・迈克尔・希利(1855－1931)，爱尔兰政治家，曾当过巴涅尔(见第二章注[81])的助手。然而巴涅尔一失势，他又成为带头将其赶下台的人们中的一个。

[204]乖娃儿指希利。在十九世纪，三四岁以下的男童多着长罩衣。这里是挖苦希利装出一副天真的样子来谴责巴涅尔所谓“道德败坏”的罪行。

[205]这里套用《启示录》第16章第1节语:“把那七碗天主的愤怒倾泄在地上。”

[206]“让……上升”出自辛白林对预言者所讲的话，见莎士比亚的《辛白林》第5幕第5场。

[207]教父是对早期基督教会领袖的称呼，这里指圣奥古斯丁(354－430)。他曾于三九六至四三0年任罗马帝国非洲领地希波(即今阿尔及利亚境内)主教，是当时西方教会最杰出的思想家。

[208]“我受到……腐蚀”，出自圣奥古斯丁的《忏悔录》第7卷。下面的句子是:“因此，倘若把事物中美好的部分统统剥夺掉，它们也就不存在了。因此，只要它们存在，它们就是美好的。因此，凡是存在的东西，就都是美好的。”

[209]古代由奴隶划桨的单层甲板大帆船。

[210]这里表现出乔伊斯的民族主义思想。把埃及比作英国，把爱尔兰人比作被其奴役的犹太人。

[211]据《出埃及记》第1至4章，埃及王曾下令将希伯来人的新生男婴统统扔进尼罗河。有一对夫妇用蒲草编了只篮子，将自己的男婴放进去，然后把篮子藏在河边芦苇丛里。娃娃被埃及王的女儿所收养。公主说：“我从水里把这孩子拉上来，就叫他摩西吧。”在希伯来语中，“摩西”与“拉出”，发音相近。摩西长大后，被推崇为犹太人的领袖，成为该民族的偶像般的人物。

[212]参看《出埃及记》第2章第7至10节。当埃及公主打开篮子，发现里面的男婴后，藏在暗处的婴儿的姐姐走出来，问她：“要不要我去找一个希伯来女人来做他的奶妈?”公主说：“好啊。”于是，那个女孩就把婴儿的生母找来。公主托她把娃娃抚养大。孩子长大后，公主才正式收养他作自己的儿子。

[213]据《出埃及记》第2章第11至12节，摩西看见一个埃及人杀了希伯来同胞，便下手杀了那埃及人，把尸首埋在沙里。

[214]《出埃及记》第34章第29节有“当摩西带着十诫的法版从西奈山下来的时候，脸上发光”之句，而圣哲罗姆(347－419或420)把《圣经・旧约》从希伯来文译成拉丁文时，却将“发光”误译为“长了犄角”。结果以讹传讹，米开朗琪罗(1396－1472)的雕塑《摩西》以及出自大多数中世纪画家之手的摩西的造型，均长着一对犄角。

[215]十九世纪末叶西方研究《圣经》的学者一般认为，犹太人的一神教起源于住在西奈山附近、相信这座神圣的山上有位雅赫维神(意即“万有之主”)的那些部族。摩西与其说是一个人物，毋宁说是这些部族的象征性代表。

[216]伊希斯是古埃及主要女神之一，司众生之事，能起死回生。俄赛里斯是古埃及主神之一，他统治死者。何露斯是古埃及宗教所奉之神，其形象似隼，太阳和月亮是他的双目。阿蒙一瑞是古埃及的国神，号称众神之王。其像如人，有时生有公羊头，与妻子穆特和养子柯恩苏共为底比斯的三神。

[217]摩西对以色列人民说：“要牢记这一天；这一天你们离开了埃及――你们被奴役过的地方。”见《出埃及记》第13章第3节。

[218]摩西率领以色列人离开埃及后，“白天，上主走在他们前面，用云柱指示方向……”参看《出埃及记》第13章第21节。

[219]参看《出埃及记》第19章第16至22节。

[220]“他”指摩西。据《申命记》第34章，上主让摩西从摩押平原的比斯迦山峰上俯瞰迦南(巴斯斯坦及相毗连的腓尼基一带的古称)全境，并对他说，这就是应许给他后代的土地，“但是你不能进去。”摩西死在摩押地，终生未能进入迦南。

[221]“预期到会致死的－吐血症”，原文作expectorated-demise。这是文字游戏。“Ex－pectorat”作“吐痰、吐血”解，“demise”作“死亡”解。“Expectorated”一词，语意双关，如果去掉中间的“ora”三个字母，就成了“expected”，作“预期”解。

[222]“随风飘去”一词出自英国颓废派诗人欧内斯特・道森(1867－1900)的题名《在好西纳拉的魔力下，我不再是过去的自己》(1896)的诗。

[223]“位于马勒麻斯特……嗓音里”影射奥康内尔的活动。奥康内尔曾以爱尔兰人民的保民官(古罗马各种军事和民政官员的总称。其职责是保护人民，反对行政长官发布的命令)自况。这里还显然把聚集的群众比作古代诸王的军队。“人们隐蔽在他的嗓音里”指的是他作为爱尔兰律师，能够把法庭当成民族主义的讲坛，以表达人民的心声。奥康内尔在全国范围内召开一系列大规模群众集会，其中声势最浩大的是一八四三年在马勒麻斯特(都柏林西南35英里处的山寨围垣)和塔拉(都柏林西北21英里处的一应矮山，属米斯郡，系爱尔兰古都所在地，有王宫遗址)举行的两次集会，号召爱尔兰人民团结起来争取建立独立的爱尔兰议会。柱廊原指希腊思想家、斯多葛哲学派创立者、季蒂昂的芝诺(约公元前335－约前263)讲学的地方(斯多阿・波伊奇列，意即“彩色的柱廊”)。此外则指聚在一起听奥康内尔讲演的数十万乃至一百万群众。

[224]阿卡沙是神秘学名词。指关于太初以来人间一切事件、活动、思想和感觉的形象记录。据说是印在阿卡沙(即人类所感觉不到的一种星光――液态以太)上。照神秘学的说法，只有少数鬼魂附体者才能感受得到阿卡沙秘录。

[225]从“随风飘去”到“我有钱”，是斯蒂芬的思想活动。“爱戴并赞美他”，套用《辛白林》第5幕第5场中辛白林对预言者所说的“让我们赞美神明”(下面紧接本章注[206]中所引的“让香烟袅袅上升”)。最后的“我有钱”，指当天斯蒂芬领了薪金。

[226]法国式的恭维――指言而无信。

[227]穆尼是位于《自由人报》社以东的一家酒馆。与斯蒂芬原约好中午跟穆利根、海恩斯在那里相聚的“船记”酒馆，相隔仅四个门。

[228]这是《麦克白》第5幕第8场中，篡夺了王位的麦克白与苏格兰贵族麦克德夫决斗时，麦克白所说的话。

[229]原文为拉丁文，出自《埃涅阿斯记》第2卷。在迦太基女王狄多的央求下，埃涅阿斯对她诉说攻陷伊利昂城时的情景。

[230]“多风的特洛伊”一语出自丁尼生的《尤利西斯》(1842)一诗。

[231]指特洛伊城陷落后，希腊人成了地中海的主人，然而在一九0四年，希腊已沦为弱国。

[232]语出自爱尔生女作家西德尼・摩根夫人(1780－1859)。

[233]维斯太是古罗马宗教所信奉的女灶神。祭司长从七至十岁的童贞女中选六名，让她们主持对该神的国祭，叫作维斯太贞女。一经选中须供职三十年，其间必须坚守童贞。期满后方可嫁人。此词转义为重贞女或尼姑。

[234]、[235]凡巴利小巷和黑坑都位于都柏林的自由区(参看第三章注[16])。

[234]、[235]凡巴利小巷和黑坑都位于都柏林的自由区(参看第三章注[16])。

[236]这里，斯蒂芬在回忆自己夜间路遇妓女的经历。

[237]这里模仿《创世记》第1章第3节中的语调。原句是：天主命令，要有光，就有了光。

[238]典出自耶稣所讲的十个处女挑着油灯去迎接新郎的比喻。其中五个聪明的另外还带了油，就得以和新郎一起进去赴宴。另外五个笨的因没带够油，未能进去赴宴。见《马太福音》第25章。

[239]第三章第106页第10行提到一位来自自由区的弗萝伦斯・麦凯布。

[240]耶稣受难会是一七三七年由意大利的保罗・弗朗西斯科・丹内(1697－1775)创建的天主教修会。

[241]吉尼斯啤酒公司酿造的双X牌啤酒是供内销的，三X牌则是供出口的。

[242]《爱尔兰天主教报》和《都柏林小报》都是每逢星期四出版的周报。

[243]《基尔肯尼民众报》是每逢星期六在基尔肯尼出版的周报。

[244]钥匙(keys)与凯斯(Keyes)谐音。

[245]原文作:K・M・A・为kiss my arse的首字。这是门徒们对魔鬼表示恭顺的方式。

[246]原文作:K・M・R・I・A.为kiss my royal Irish arse的首字。

[247]原文为拉丁文。法律用语，指欠债者无财物可变卖抵债或作抵押。按刚才在办公室里，杰・杰・奥莫洛伊曾向克劳福德开口借过钱。

[248]达格尔是都柏林以南十二英里处的一道风光绮丽的峡谷。

[249]拉思曼斯是都柏林的准自治市。蓝色拱顶指一八五0年建立的圣母堂，距纳尔进纪念圆柱两英里。

[250]指距纳尔逊纪念圆柱半英里多的方济各教堂。由于天主教信仰遭到英国统治者的压制，方济各会的神父们于一六一八年在罗斯玛丽巷建立了一应“地下”教堂。教徒们望弥撒时，假装到该巷的一家名叫亚当与夏娃的客栈去。为了纪念这段历史，人们至今仍把附近的一座圣方济各教堂称作亚当与夏娃教堂。

[251]圣劳伦斯・奥图尔(113Z－1180)，爱尔兰的主保圣人。以他的名字命名的这座教堂在纪念圆柱附近。

[252]奸夫指纳尔逊。一七九七年在和西班牙舰队进行海战时，他右臂受伤，后截肢。一七九八年，他与英国驻那不靳斯公使威廉・汉密尔顿爵士(1730－1803)之妻艾玛(约1765－1815)发生崦凉叵担此事成为当时英国政界一大丑闻。

[253]见《马太福音》第13章第3至9节中耶稣对群众所讲撒种的寓言。“有些种子落在好土壤里，长大结实，收成有一百倍的，有六十倍的，也有三十倍的。”这里把吐李子核儿和撒种子联系在一起了。

[254]智者派指公元前五世纪至前四世纪古希腊的一些演说家、作家和教师。后来此间衍成为“强词夺理的诡辩者”的替代语。

[255]潘奈洛佩是伊大嘉国王奥德修之妻，以贞节著称。

[256]安提西尼(约公元前445－前365)，古希腊哲学家，犬儒学派创始人。他抨击社会上的蠢事和不平，并号召人们克己自制。此派人生活刻苦，衣食简朴。

[257]高尔吉亚(活动时期约公元前427－约前399)，希腊智者派和雄辩家。

[258]阿凯人指希腊人。古希腊有几个地区叫作阿凯斯(包括整个伯罗奔尼撒半岛的东部地区)。

[259]潘奈洛佩・里奇(约1562－1607)，英国贵妇人。一五八一年嫁给里奇勋爵，后离婚，改嫁蒙乔伊勋爵。宫廷诗人菲利普・锡德尼爵士(1554－1586)曾与她相爱，并为她写了一组十四行诗《爱星者和星星》(1582)。“星”的就是她。她为人风流，与奥德修那个从一而终的妻子形成对照，正如她的姓里奇(Rich，意即“阔绰”)与“贫穷”(poor)形成对照。

[260]拉思法纳姆是都柏林郊外一村庄，距都柏林中央区以南三英里。

[261]唐尼布鲁克是距纪念圆柱东南二英里的村庄。

[262]原文作sophomore，即大学二年级学生。

[263]原文为拉丁文。语出自维吉尔的《牧歌》。

[264]指摩西从比斯迦山峰上俯瞰迦南一事，参看本章注[220]。

[265]耶稣喜欢用寓言来教导门徒，参看本章注[253]。照基督教的说法，李子象征忠诚与独立。

[266]霍雷肖是纳尔逊的教名。

[267]约翰・格雷爵士(参看第六章注[49])的雕像坐落在街心岛上。

[268]弗萝是弗萝伦斯的爱称。