by James Joyce
We seem to us (the real Us!) to be reading our Amenti in the sixth sealed chapter of the going forth by black. It was after the show at Wednesbury that one tall man, humping a suspicious parcel, when returning late amid a dense particular on his home way from the second house of the Boore and Burgess Christy Menestrels by the old spot, Roy’s Corner, had a barkiss revolver placed to his faced with the words you’re shot, major! by an unknowable assailant (masked) against whom he had been jealous over Lotta Crabtree or Pomona Evlyn. More than that, Whenn the Waylayer (not a Lucalizod diocesan or even of the Glendalough see but hailing fro’ the prow of Little Britain), mentioning in a bytheway that he, the crawsopper, had, in edition to Reade’s cutless centiblade, a loaded Hobson’s which left only twin alternatives as, viceversa, either he would surely shoot her, the aunt, by pistol (she could be okaysure of that!) or, failing of such, bash in Patch’s blank face beyond recognition, pointedly asked with gaelish gall wodkar blizzard’s business Thornton had with that Kane’s fender, only to be answered by the aggravated assaulted that that was the snaps for him, Midweeks, to sultry well go and find out if he was showery well able.
But how transparingly nontrue, gentle writer! His feet one is not a tall man, not at all, man. No such parson! no such fender! no such lumber! no such race! Was it supposedly in connection with a girl, Myramy Huey or Colores Archer, under Flaggy Bridge (for ann there is but one liv and her newbridge is her old) or to explode his twelvechamber and force a shrievalty entrance that the heavybuilt Abelbody in a butcherblue blouse from One Life One Suit (a men’s wear store), with a most decisive bottle of single in his possession, seized after dark by the town guard at Haveyou-caughtemerod’s temperance gateway, was there in the gate’s way.
Fifthly, how truetoned on his first time of hearing the wretch’s statement that, muttering Irish, he had had had o’gloriously a’lot too much hanguest or hoshoe fine to drink in the House of Blazes, the Parrot in Hell, the Orange Tree, the Glibt, the Sun, the Holy Lamb and, lapse not leashed, in Ramitdown’s ship hotel since the morning moment he could dixtinguish a white thread from a black till the engine of the laws declosed unto Murray and was only falling fillthefluthered up against the gatestone pier which, with the cow’s bonnet a’top o’it, he parasoliloquisingly falsetook for a cattlepillar with purest peaceablest intentions. Yet how lamely hobbles the hoy of his then pseudojocax explanation how, according to his own story, he was a process server and was merely trying to open zozimus a bottlof stoub by mortially hammering his magnum bonum (the curter the club the sorer the savage) against the bludgey gate for the boots about the swan, Maurice Behan, who hastily threw on a pair of old Sir Bunchamon’s pants, stepped into his shoes, with nothing in his hald barra tinnteack, and came down with homp, shtemp and jumphet to the tiltyard from the wastes u’sleep in his obi ohny overclothes or choker, attracted by the norse of gunplay, said he war ’prised safe in bed as he dreamed that he’d wealthes in mormon halls when wokenp by a fourth loud snore out of his land of byelo while hickstrey’s mews was grazing in the moonlight by hearing hammerang on the pandywhank scale emanating from the blind pig and anything like it (oonagh! oonagh!) in the whole history of that Mullingcan Inn he never. This battering babel allover the door and sideposts, he always said, was not in the very loutest like the belzeybabble of a bottle of boose which would not rouse him out o’ slumber deep but reminded him loads more of the martiallawsey marses of foreign musikants’ instrumongs playing Delandy is Cartager on the ragnar rock to Dulyn or the overthrewer to the third last days of pompery, if anything. And that after this most mooningless knockturn the young reine came down desperate and the old liffopotamus herself started ploring all over the plain, as mud as she cud be, ruinating all the bouchers’ schurts and the backers’ wischandtugs so that, be the chandeleure of the Rejaneyjailey, they were all nigh wasching the walters off, the weltering walters off. Whyte?
Just one moment. A pinch in time of the ideal, musketeers! Alphos, Burkos and Caramis, leave Astrelea for the astrollajerries and for the love of the saunces and the honour of keavens pike paddywhackback to Pamintul. And roll away the reel world, the reel world, the reel world! And call all your smokeblushes, Snowwhite and Rosered, if you will have the real cream! Now for a strawberry frolic! Filons filoosh! Cherchons la flamme! Fammfamm! Fammfamm!
Come on, ordinary man, Maschinsky, Scapolopolos, Duzinascu or Other, with that large big nonobli head and that blanko berbecked fischial ekksprezzion. Your machelar’s mutton leg’s getting musclebound from being too pulled. Noah Beery weighed stone thousand one when Hazel was a hen. Now his fat’s falling fast. Therefore, chatbags, why not yours? There are twenty-nine sweet reasons why Blossomtime’s the best. Elders fall for green almonds when they’re raised on bruised stone root ginger though it winters on their heads as if auctumned round their waistbands. If you’d had pains in your hairs you wouldn’t look so orgibald. You’d have Colley Macaires on your lump of lead. Now listen, Mr Leer! And stow that sweatyfunnyadams simper!
Take an old geeser who calls on his skirt. Note his sleek hair, so elegant, tableau vivant. He vows her to be his own honeylamb, swears they will be papa pals, by Sam, and share good times way down west in a guaranteed happy lovenest when May moon she shines and they twit twinkle all the night, combing the comet’s tail upright and shooting popguns at the stars. Creampuffs all to time! Every nice, missymackenzies! For dear old grumpapar he’s gone on the razzledar, through gazing and crazing and blazing at the stars. Compree? She wants her wardrobe to hear from above by return with cash so as she can buy her Peter Robinson trousseau and cut a dash with Arty, Bert or possibly Charley Chance (who knows?) so tolloll, Mr Hunker, you’re too dada for me to dance (so off she goes!) and that’s how half the gels in town has got their bottom drars while grumpapar he’s trying to hitch his braces on to his trars. But old grum he’s not so clean dippy between sweet you and yum (not on your life, boy! not in those trousers! not by a large jugful!) for someplace on the sly, where Furphy he isn’t by, old grum has his gel number two (bravevow, our Grum!) and he would like to canoodle her too some part of the time for he is downright fond of his own number one but O he’s fair mashed on peaches number two so that if he could only canoodle the two, chivee chivoo, all three would feel genuinely happy, it’s as simple as A.B.C., the two mixers, we mean, with their cherrybum chappy (for he is simply shamming dippy) if they all were afloat in a dreamlifeboat, hugging two by two in his zoo-doo-you-doo, tofftoff for thee, missymissy for me and how-cameyou-e’enso for Farber, in his tippy, upindown dippy, tiptoptippy canoodle, can you? Finny!
Ack, ack, ack. With which clap, trap and soddenment, three to a loaf, our mutual friends the fender and the bottle at the gate seem to be implicitly in the same bateau, so to singen, bearing also several of the earmarks of design, for there is in fact no use in putting a tooth in a snipery of that sort and the amount of all those sort of things which has been going on onceaday in and twiceaday out every other nachtistag among all kinds of promiscuous individuals at all ages in private homes and reeboos publikiss and alloverall and elsewhere throughout secular sequence the country over and overabroad has been particularly stupendous. To be continued. Federals’ Uniteds’ Transports’ Unions’ for Exultations of Triumphants’ Ecstasies.
But resuming inquiries. Will it ever be next morning the postal unionist’s (officially called carrier’s, Letters Scotch, Limited) strange fate (Fierceendgiddyrex he’s hight, d.e., the losel that hucks around missivemaids’ gummibacks) to hand in a huge chain envelope, written in seven divers stages of ink from blanchessance to lavandaiette, every pothook and pancrook bespaking the wisherwife, superscribed to Hyde and Cheek, Edenberry, Dubbllenn, WC, and subpencilled by yours A Laughable Party, with afterwite, S.A.G.? Will whatever will be written in lappish language with inbursts of maggyer always seem semposed, black looking white and white guarding black, in that siamixed twoatalk used twixt stern swift and jolly roger? Will it bright upon us, nightle, and we plunging to our plight? Well, it
might now, mircle, so it light. Always and ever till Cox’s wife, twice Mrs Hahn, pokes her beak into the matter with Owen K. after her, to see whawa smutter after, will this kiribis pouch filled with litterish fragments lurk dormant in the paunch of that halpbrother of a herm, a pillarbox?
The coffin, a triumph of the illusionist’s art, at first blench naturally taken for a handharp (it is hardwarp to tristinguish jubabe from jabule or either from tubote when all three have just been invened), had been removed from the hardware premises of Oetzmann and Nephew, a noted house of the gonemost west which in the natural course of all things continues to supply funeral requisites of every needed description. Why needed, though? Indeed needed (wouldn’t you feel like rattanfowl if you hadn’t the oscar?) because the flash brides or bride in their lily boleros one games with at the Nivynubies’ finery ball and your upright grooms that always come right up with you (and by jingo when they do!), what else in this mortal world, now ours, when meet there night, mid their nackt, me there naket, made their nought, the hour strikes, would bring them rightcameback in the flesh, thumbs down, to their orses and their hashes.
To proceed. We might leave that nitrience of oxagiants to take its free of the air and just analectralyse that very chymirical combination, the gasbag where the warder works. And try to pour somour heiteroscene up the almostfere. In the bottled heliose case continuing, Long Lally Tobkids, the special, sporting a fine breast of medals, and a conscientious scripture -reader to boot in the brick and tin choorch round the corner, swore like a Norewheezian tailliur on the stand before the proper functionary that he was up against a right querrshnorrt of a mand in the butcher of the blues who, he guntinued, on last epening after delivering some carcasses, muttanchepps and meatjutes on behalf of Messrs Otto Sands and Eastman, Limericked, victuallers, went and, with his unmitigated astonissment, hickicked at the dun and doorass against all the runes and, when challenged about the pretended hick (it was kickup and down with him) on his solemn by the imputant imputed, said simply: I appop pie oath, Phillyps Captain. You did, as I sostressed before. You are deepknee in error, sir, Madam Tomkims, let me then tell you, replied with a gentlewomanly salaam MackPartland (the meatmam’s family, and the oldest in the world except nick, name). And Phelps was flayful with his peeler. But his phizz fell.
Now to the obverse. From velveteens to dimities is barely a fivefinger span and hence these camelback excesses are thought to have been instigated by one or either of the causing causes of all, those rushy hollow heroines in their skirtsleeves, be she the margretta be she the posque. Oh! Oh! Because it is a horrible thing to have to say to say to day but one dilalah, Lupita Lorette, shortly after in a fit of the unexpectednesses drank carbolic with all her dear placid life before her and paled off while the other soiled dove that’s her sister-in-love, Luperca Latouche, finding one day while dodging chores that she stripped teasily for binocular man and that her jambs were jimpjoyed to see each other, the nautchy girly soon found her fruitful hat too small for her and rapidly taking time, look, she rapidly took to necking, partying and selling her spare favours in the haymow or in lumber closets or in the greenawn ad huck (there are certain intimacies in all ladies’ lavastories we just lease to imagination) or in the sweet churchyard close itself for a bit of soft coal or an array of thin trunks, serving whom in fine that same hot coney à la zingara which our own little Graunya of the chilired cheeks dished up to the greatsire of Oscar, that son of a Coole. Houri of the coast of emerald, arrah of the lacessive poghue, Aslim-all-Muslim, the resigned to her surrender, did not she, come leinster’s eve, true dotter of a dearmud (her pitch was Forty Steps and his perch old Cromwell’s Quarters), with so valkirry a licence as sent many a poor pucker packing to perdition, again and again, ay, and again sfidare him, tease fido, eh tease fido, eh eh tease fido, toos topples topple, stop, ye dug of a dog of a dgiaour, ye! Angealousmei! And did not he, like Arcoforty, farfar off Bisavolo, missbrand her behaveyous with iridescent huecry of down right mean false sop lap sick dope? Tawfulsdreck! A reine of the shee, a shebeen quean, a queen of pranks. A kingly man, of royal mien, regally robed, exalted be his glory! ! So gave, so take. Now not, not now. He would just a min. Suffering trumpet! He thought he want. Whath? Hear, O hear, living of the land! Hungreb, dead era, hark! He hea, eyes ravenous on her lippling lills. He hear her voi of day gon by. He hears! Zay, zay, zay! But, by the beer of his profit, he cannot answer. Upterputty till rise and shine! Nor needs none shaft ne stele from Phenicia or Little Asia to obelise on the spout, neither pobalclock neither folkstone, nor sunkenness in Tomar’s Wood to bewray how erpressgangs score off the rued. The mouth that tells not will ever attract the unthinking tongue and so long as the obseen draws theirs which hear not so long till allearth’s dumbnation shall the blind lead the deaf. Tatcho, tawney yeeklings! The column of lumps leads the pattrin of the leaves behind us. If violence to life, limb and chattels, often as not, has been the expression, direct or through an agent male, of womanhid offended (ah! ah!) has not levy of blackmail from the times the fairies were in it and fain for wilde erthe blothoms followed an impressive private reputation for whispered sins?
Now, by memory inspired, turn wheel again to the whole of the wall. Where Gyant Blyant fronts Peannlueamoore. There was once upon a wall and a hooghoog wall a was and such a wallhole did exist. Ere ore or ire in Aaarlund. Or you Dair’s Hair or you Diggin Mosses or your horde of orts and oriorts to garble a garthen of Odin and the lost paladays when all the eddams ended with aves. Armen. The doun is theirs and still to see for menags if he strikes a lousaforitch and we’ll come to those baregazed shoeshines if you just shoodov a second. And let oggs be good old goggles and Isther Estarr play Yesther Asterr. In the drema of Sorestost Areas, Diseased. A stonehinged gate there was for another thing while the suroptimist had bought and enlarged that shack under fair rental of one yearlyng sheep (prime), value of sixpence, and one small yearlyng goat (cadet), value of eightpence, to grow old and happy in (hogg it and kid him) for the reminants of his years; and when everything was got up for the purpose he put an applegate on the place by no means as some pretend a bedstead in loo thereof to keep out donkeys (the pigdirt hanging from the jags to this hour makes that clear) and just thenabouts the iron gape, by old custom left open to prevent the cat from getting at the gout, was triple -patlockt on him on purpose by his faithful poorters to keep him inside probably and possibly enaunter he felt like sticking out his chest too far and tempting gracious providence by a stroll on the peoplade’s eggday, unused as he was as yet to being freely clodded.
O, by the by, lets wee brag of praties, it ought to be always remembered in connection with what has gone before that there was a northroomer, Herr Betreffender, out for his zimmer holedigs, digging in number 32 at the Rum and Puncheon (branch of Dirty Dick’s free house) in Laxlip (where the Sockeye Sammons were stopping at the time orange fasting) prior to that, a Kommerzial (Gorbotipacco, he was wreaking like Zentral Oylrubber) from Osterich, the U.S.E., paying (Gaul save the mark!) 11/- in the week (Gosh, these wholly romads!) and he missed a soft felt and, take this in, six quid fifteen of conscience money in the first deal of Yuly wheil he was, swishing beesnest with blessure and swobbing broguen eeriesh myth brocken dootsch, making his reporterage on Der Fall Adams for the Frankofurto Siding, a Fastland payrodicule, and, er, constated that one had on him the Lynn O’Brien, a meltoned lammswolle, disturbed and wider he might should the same zurichschicken other he would, with tosend and obertosend tonnowatters, one monkey’s damages become. Now you must know, franksman, to make a heart of glass, that the game of gaze and bandstand butchery was merely a Patsy O’Strap tissue of threats and obuses such as roebucks raugh at pinnacle’s peak and after this sort.
Humphrey’s unsolicited ad hock visitor, Davy or Titus, on a burgley’s clan march from the middle west, a hikely excellent crude man about roads who knew his Bullfoost Mountains like a starling bierd, after doing a long dance untidled to Cloudy Green, deposend his bockstump on the waityoumaywantme, after
having blew some quaker’s (for you, Oates!) in through the houseking’s keyhole to attract attention bleated through the gale outside which the tairor of his clothes was hogcallering, first, be the hirsuiter, that he would break his bulsheywigger’s head for him, next, be the heeltapper, that he would break the gage over his lankyduckling head the same way he would crack a nut with a monkeywrench and, last of all, be the stirabouter, that he would give him his (or the umperom’s or anybloody else’s) thickerthanwater to drink and his bleday steppebrodhar’s into the bucket. He demanded more wood alcohol to pitch in with, alleging that his grandfather’s was all taxis and that it was only after ten o’connell and that his isbar was a public oven for the sake of irsh irskhusky, and then, not easily discouraged, opened the wrathfloods of his atillarery and went on at a wicked rate, weathering against him in mooxed metaphores from eleven thirty to two in the afternoon without even a luncheonette interval for House, son of Clod, to come out, you jewbeggar, to be Executed. Amen.
Earwicker, that patternmind, that paradigmatic ear, receptoretentive as his of Dionysius, longsuffering, although whitening under restraint in the sititout corner of his conservatory behind faminebuilt walls, his thermos flask and ripidion flabel by his side and a walrus whiskerbristle for a tuskpick, compiled, while he mourned the flight of his wild guineese, a long list (now feared in part lost) to be kept on file of all the abusive names he was called (we have been compelled for the rejoicement of foinne loidies and the humours of Milltown etcetera by Josephine Brewster in the collision known as Contrastations with Inkermann and so on and so onward, lacies in loo water, flee, celestials, one clean turv): Firstnighter, Informer, Old Fruit, Yellow Whigger, Wheatears, Goldy Geit, Bogside Beauty, Yass We’ve Had His Badannas, York’s Porker, Funnyface, At Baggotty’s Bend He Bumped His Bride, Grease with the Butter, Opendoor Ospices, Cainandabler, Ireland’s Eighth Wonderful Wonder, Beat My Price, Codsoilman, Moonface the Murderer, Hoary Hairy Hoax, Midnight Sunburst, Remove that Bible, Hebdromadary Publocation, Tummer the Lame the Tyrannous, Blau Clay, Tight before Teatime, Read Your Pantojoke, Acoustic Disturbance, Thinks He’s Gobblasst the Good Dook of Ourguile, W.D.’s Grace, Gibbering Bayamouth of Dublin, His Farther was a Mundzucker and She Had Him in a Growler, Burnham and Bailey, Artist, Unworthy of the Homely Protestant Religion, Terry Cotter, You’re Welcome to Waterfood, Signed the Ribbonmen, Lobsterpot Lardling, All for Arthur of this Town, Hooshed the Cat from the Bacon, Leatherbags Donald, The Ace and Deuce of Paupering, O’Reilly’s Delights to Kiss the Man behind the Borrel, Magogagog, Swad Puddlefoot, Gouty Ghibellino, Loose Luther, Hatches Cocks’ Eggs, Muddle the Plan, Luck before Wedlock, I Divorce Thee Husband, Tanner and a Make, Go to Hellena or Come to Connies, Piobald Puffpuff, Purged out of Burke’s, He’s None of Me Causin, Barebarean, Peculiar Person, Grunt Owl’s Facktotem, Twelve Months’ Aristocrat, Lycanthrope, Flunkey Beadle Vamps the Tune Letting on He’s Loney, Thunder and Turf Married into Clandorf, Left Boot Sent on Approval, Cucumberer of Lord’s Holy Ground, Stodge Arschmann, Awnt Yuke, Tommy Furlong’s Pet Plagues, Archdukon Cabbanger, Last Past the Post, Kennealey Won’t Tell Thee Off Nancy’s Gown, Scuttle to Cover, Salary Grab, Andy MacNoon in Annie’s Room, Awl Out, Twitchbratschballs, Bombard Street Bester, Sublime Porter, A Ban for Le King of the Burgaans and a Bom for Ye Sur of all the Ruttledges, O’Phelim’s Cutprice, And at Number Wan Wan Wan, What He Done to Castlecostello, Sleeps with Feathers and Ropes, It is Known Who Sold Horace the Rattler, Enclosed Find the Sons of Fingal, Swayed in his Falling, Wants a Wife and Forty of Them, Let Him Do the Fair, Apeegeequanee Chimmuck, Plowp Goes his Whastle, Ruin of the Small Trader, He — —, Milkinghoneybeaverbrooker, Vee was a Vindner, Sower Rapes, Armenian Atrocity, Sickfish Bellyup, Edomite, — —, Man Devoyd of the Commoner Characteristics of an Irish Nature, Bad Humborg, —, Hraabhraab, Coocoohandler, Dirt, Miching Daddy, Born Burst Feet Foremost, Woolworth’s Worst, Easyattic Phallusaphist, Guilteypig’s Bastard, Fast in the Barrel, Boose in the Bed, Mister Fatmate, In Custody of the Polis, Boawwll’s Alocutionist, Deposed: but, anarchistically respectsful of the liberties of the noninvasive individual, did not respond a solitary wedgeword beyond such sedentarity, though it was as easy as kissanywhere for the passive resistant in the booth he was in to reach for the hello gripes and ring up Kimmage Outer 17.67 because, as the fundamentalist explained when at last shocked into speech, touchin his woundid feelins in the fuchsiar, the dominican mission for the sowsealist potty was on at the time and he thought the rowmish devowtion known as the howly rowsary might reeform ihm, Gonn.