GENETIC JOYCE STUDIES - Issue 12 (Spring 2012)




Robbert-Jan Henkes & Mikio Fuse

I. New Sources in Lost Notebook D1
II.Notes towards a Methodology of Reconstructive Paleoarcheographology: a correspondence over email
III.A Methodology of Conjectural Reconstruction
Appendix.How Joyce expanded his Night Lessons with the D1 notes in C2

I. New Sources in Lost Notebook D1

Robbert-Jan Henkes

Shakespeare and Company, Rue de l’Odéon 12, was not only a bookshop, a literary meeting place and a very finicky publisher of all-in-all one novel, one book of poems and one collection of criticism, it was also a wellstacked lending library. In her memoirs, Sylvia Beach explains the procedure: ‘A member could take one or two volumes, could change them whenever he liked or keep them a fortnight.’ One of the more devoted customers was one James Joyce, writer, of no fixed abode: ‘Joyce took out dozens, and sometimes kept them for years.’ (Shakespeare and Company, 21)

Somewhere in May 1925 again Joyce took out a not inconsiderable stack of books, all of a series, the popular To-Day and To-Morrow essays, published by Kegan Paul Trench Trubner & Co in London, and by E.P. Dutton in New York, plus a book on the legends of King Arthur, of an equally popular and not too voluminous character, published at the Cambridge Press.

It wasn’t his first encounter with the To-Day and To-Morrow series. Joyce had already read the first in the set, Daedalus, or Science and the Future by J.B.S. Haldane – as witnessed in VI.B.1.13-18 – and F.G. Crookshank’s The Mongol in Our Midst (No.6), halfway through, as his notes show on VI.B.14.135-137. Nor would he bid goodbye to this unique opportunity to supply his word hoard with scientific terms of the future. In 1930 he would read Richard Paget’s Babel, or the Past, Present, and Future of Human Speech (VI.B.32.14-146), and most probably he also read Robert Graves’ Lars Porsena, or the Future of Swearing, with its long chapter on Ulysses, held up by Graves as ‘perhaps the least obscene book ever published.’ At any rate, Joyce mentions this ‘amusing book’ in a letter to Harriet Weaver of 22 July 1932, but a possible perusing left no traces in Finnegans Wake, or Work in Progress for that matter.

None of the To-Day and To-Morrow books were preserved in Joyce’s Personal Library in Buffalo, so he must have returned them properly and maybe even in time. Though published by Kegan Paul in London and Dutton in New York, Rollo Myers’ Modern Music (1930) does not belong to the series, nor does Bertrand Russell’s The ABC of Relativism (London, Kegan Paul; New York, Harper, 1925), in spite of the editors’ assertion in Brepols Buffalo Notebook B1, 5n1.

In May-June 1925, Joyce, having completed the first draft of the third watch of Shaun (‘Yawn’), was poised to begin the fourth (‘Dawn’), but his concerns at the time were hardly about his work. The entire first half of 1925 was taken up by numerous dental and ophthalmological operations and prolonged and painful recuperation. (Ellmann II, 569-572). He asked Myron Nutting to read the footnotes and appendix of a work on the history of Dublin to him, possibly Haliday’s The Scandinavian Kingdom of Dublin, but presumably, judging from the Notebook evidence, The Annals of Ireland, translated from the original Irish of The Four Masters by Owen Connellan (1845), see VI.C.3.214(k)-216(m). He hardly could read any print: only with the help of three magnifying glasses and his son was he able to revise I.v for the Criterion. In early June, moreover, the family moved to a new address, Nr. 2 Square Robiac. Still Joyce did read all the while, as his Notebooks B7, D2 and D1 show.

D1 is a socalled Lost Notebook, a Notebook that we only know through Mme Raphael’s partial transcription, in the C-series, of the items Joyce didn’t cross out in his original Notebook and had left unused up till that moment. In the 1930s Joyce was afraid, with his eyes on the verge of collapsing, that soon he wouldn’t be able to read the scribblings in his Notebooks anymore, so he asked Mme France Raphael to copy all undeleted items in his Notebooks in her fairest and schooliest handwriting. Mme Raphael turned out to have an equally hard time deciphering Joyce’s notes, and her transcriptions sometimes read like optical character recognition from a language unsupported in any database since the days of yore, or worse, the lexical equivalent of a game of Chinese Whispers. Nonetheless, for five of Joyce’s notebooks we have only her transcriptions, however flawed and faulty and horrendously inadequate, to work with. And work with it we want, for ultimately we want to reconstruct, paleoarcheographologically, like a prehistoric cave-bear from a single frayed molar, as much of the lost notebooks as we can. Rose and O’Hanlon did a seminal reconstruction in The Lost Notebook (Split Pea Press, 1989), but this was a Ulysses Notebook (filed in Buffalo as D7) that accidentally was given to Mme Raphael to be copied and afterwards disappeared. We will be entering quaky terra firma on which no human eye has ever set foot.

This article consists of three parts. Part I consists of short introductions to the newfound book sources, focusing not so much on the use Joyce made of the C-notes in the 1930s – which was mostly haphazard last-minute harvesting to fill the Night Lessons marginal notes – but mainly on the notes we may tentatively infer from the source texts: words and phrases that were introduced at some point between May 1925 and the beginning of the 1930s into the text of Finnegans Wake, and which may be traced back to the To-Day and To-Morrow volumes.

It is an impossible task to manually trace every suspect phrase in a source book to a textual addition somewhere in the ocean of the James Joyce Archive. And this is where I asked Mikio to step in, to help me with his database. But as simple as the question was, the answer proved to be as complex and winding and long as the Silk Route. To ensure maximum reliability of the conjectural reconstructions, Mikio had to think of a way to exclude all other possibilities. It turns out to be not only a problem on the input side (ideally, the entire JJA and more should be included in the database), but also on the output side: Mikio had to devise a program that could intelligently sort out all additions and changes on all different levels, in connection with Notebook material, and the Notebook material connected to the sources. In this article, we will see how the groundwork is being laid for such an intelligent database for the future, by focusing on one specific level of one specific chapter, in this case III:3A.8, to make a test run with. Mikio’s struggle and glorious emergence to come up with a working matrix for future reconstructions of lost notebooks is the subject of the e-mail exchange in Part II.

Part III of this article is Mikio’s round-up of his work to build a datcruncher that will be able to incorparate reconstructed items from lost Notebooks.

As a small advance party into the unexplored territory of the Lost Notebook D1, we offer as an Appendix a list of all forty-eight crossed-out items from the C-transcription, as fully edited as possible. We hope we can, in the future, publish an as far as possibly possible reconstructed D.1 in the Genetic Joyce Studies.

I. Shemus, or the Future of Note-Snatching

So. What did Joyce read in D1? First, he took some more notes from Jane Ellen Harrison’s Mythology, published by George C. Harrap & Co. in London in 1924, which he was reading at the time. This book, interestingly, does survive in Joyce’s Personal Library, item 137 in Buffalo. Whether it was his own copy, or was taken from the lending library and never returned, deserves further deepdelving study. Traces of Mythology appear in Mme Raphael’s transcription of his previous notebook, the equally non-extant D2, transcribed in C3 (178-242) and once more in C15 (177-252). Notes deriving from Harrison’s Mythology appear at VI.C.3.236(e) through 238(c) and VI.C.3.240-242, which is the end of D2. The last entry in D2 is VI.C.3.242(c) ‘asphalt / = safe’ – which derives from Harrison, Mythology, 48-49: ‘The Poseidon cult at Taenarum, it is important to note, | was mainly in the hands of a subject race, the Helots. Poseidon was worshipped there as Asphaleius, which means not the steadfast earth but the safe asylum.’ The first identified Mythology note in D1 is VI.C.2.124(k) ‘Kallisteieon / beauty garden’, ex Mythology, 89: ‘The kernel of the myth according to this story is a kallisteion or beauty contest. When the gods were assembled at the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, Eris, Strife, threw among them a golden apple.’

Then it was time to take a pick from his stack of popular science books – the bunch he’d gotten off of Miss Beach – and start reading and taking notes. These are the books:

1. A.M. Low, Wireless Possibilities, 1924
2. E.E. Fournier d’Albe, Quo Vadimus? Glimpses of the Future, 1925
3. F.C.S. Schiller, Tantalus, or the Future of Man, 1925
4. J.B.S. Haldane, Callinicus, or a Defence of Chemical Warfare, 1925
5. C.J. Patten, The Passing of the Phantoms: a Study of Evolutionary Psychology and Morals, 1925
6. Dora Russell, Hypatia, or Woman and Knowledge, 1925
7. Gerald Heard, Narcissus, an Anatomy of Clothes, 1924
8. H.F.S. Stokes, Perseus, or: of Dragons, 1924
9. W.L. Jones, King Arthur in History and Legend, 1911

Joyce’s plunder from the Shakespeare & Co lending library, May 1925. More information about the To-Day and To-Morrow series is to be found at <> and <>.

1. A.M. Low, Wireless Possibilities, 1924 (VI.C.2.126-129)

A.M. Low’s 1924 Wireless Possibilities was the 7th in the To-Day and To-Morrow series. Low offers a way of devising what he calls ‘television’, that strange apparatus that seems to be already prominent in the Mullingar Inn in Chapelizod.

Joyce notes ‘radio sight’, which remained unused – but did the television reference and other phrases already go into Work in Progress from the B notebook? The word ‘wireless’ from the title entered Finnegans Wake via B.16.017: ‘In this wireless age any owl rooster can peck up bostoons’ (FW 489.36-490.01, III.3); the ‘condenser’ (Wireless, 28) derives from B.37 (‘[t]his harmonic condenser enginium’, FW 310.01, II.3); and ‘broadcast’ (Wireless, 37-38) from B.42 (FW 108.22: ‘trademark of a broadcaster’) – Vincent Deane and Roland McHugh note. So which specific Wireless terms might be reconstructed here? Perhaps the ‘dictaphone’ (Wireless, 14) of FW 59.15: ‘obitered to his dictaphone an entychologist’. Perhaps the ‘loud speaker’ (Wireless, 16) of FW 459.28: ‘He fell for my lips, for my lisp, for my lewd speaker.’

Mme Raphael copied twenty-six notes. A quick and peremptory survey yields a first flush of sixteen conjectural reconstructions, among which ‘aether’, ‘silvering’, ‘ring up’ and ‘refraction’, to be looked further into. Even the word ‘television’ itself, a chapter heading in Wireless, may or may not have give rise to the ‘faroscope of television’ of FW 150.32-33 (I.6). Of course, each and every suspect can be looked up in the James Joyce Archive, to eliminate the impossible candidates – but only now we are beginning to see how inhumanly vast this task is. The computer at some time in the promised future will have to shed televised light on this question.

Another type of conjectural reconstruction is encountered at VI.C.2.127(i) and (j). The C transcription reads: ‘low voices / afte meal’ Inspection of the source text strongly suggests that Joyce wrote ‘ear varies / after meal’, for Wireless, 33-34 has: ‘It is the science of wireless that is | beautiful; it is the possibilities that are wonderful; but to talk of pure sound and to judge of it by the human ear which varies after every meal, is like measuring the amount of current passing through an electric-light bulb by feeling its heat with the hand.’ It is not the first Raphaelesque hash we meet, nor will it be the last. This type of conjectural reconstruction, correcting Mme Raphael’s transcription, we may call, for want of a better term, a ‘C-reconstruction’, or a ‘transcriptural reconstruction’.

The last unequivocal Wireless C-note is ‘retentously’, from page 56: ‘The eye is a very defective piece of mechanism considered from an optical standpoint. The pointed rays which appear to come from stars show one example of faulty optical construction, however wonderful may be the whole structure. Another property, and a feature of great importance from the aspect of television, is that of retentivity.’ Joyce seems to have left the final 14 pages unread. It is true that the final chapters of many To-Day and To-Morrow books are not among the most interesting pages, to say the least, as the writers tend to lose themselves in vague generalities as to what they think will be the future of their chosen field of research, wheras the first parts are often more particular in their wordings.

Whoever wants to join the club of reconstructors: Wireless Possibilities is accessible and downloadable at <>.

2. E.E. Fournier d’Albe, Quo Vadimus? Glimpses of the Future (VI.C.2.129-133)

E.E. (Edmund) Fournier d’Albe is an interesting figure. For one thing, he was an Irishman, which is already interesting, plus he was a physicist, chemist, linguist, occultist, as well as the inventor (in 1913) of the — List! ’Tis optophone which ontophanes. (FW 13.16) — ‘reading optophone,’ a device that, using the electro-optical properties of selenium photosensors, could scan printed text and convert the letters into tones, thereby enabling the blind to read, as it were, albeit at a rate of one word a minute. The apparatus consisted of a vertical arrangement of five light sources and detectors that was scanned across printed characters, each detector corresponding to a note on the musical stave with the amplitude indicating the amount of reflected light. In this way a blind person could interpret the tone as a letter and piece together words. His invention Fournier d’Albe immortalised in The Moon-Element: an Introduction to the Wonders of Selenium (1924).

[aside] – Where does the Wakean optophone derive from by the way? Where did Joyce notesnatch that particular contraption?

His interest in Celtic matters prompted him to edit an Irish Dictionary in 1903, but he was also a speaker of Esperanto and Manx. Furthermore, he translated from the German the standard work of Albert von Schrenck-Notzing, Phenomena of Materialisation: a Contribution to the Investigation of Mediumistic Teleplastics (1920), and from the French Georges Marie Haardt and Louis Audouin-Dubreuil’s gripping adventure Across the Sahara by Motorcar (1924). He was a prolific producer of textual matter.

In 1923 he had been the first to transfer a photograph by wireless telegraphy – he chose a picture of King George V, a strange choice for a Pan-Celt, his biographers note. His name appears in Notebook VI.B.14 of about a year earlier, at 009(c): Fournier d’Albe. Curiously, Joyce was reading a book about bad usage of French grammar, the Soirées du Grammaire-Club, in which he came across the name of a certain Fournier: “Je viens de parcourir Tabarin et les dix volumes des Variétés historiques et littéraires d’Édouard Fournier (je ne m’en plains pas: rien de plus amusant) sans y rien trouver qui donne l’impression d’être réellement l’usage oral du dix-septième siècle.” – This Fournier however is not the same person as Edmund Edward Fournier d’Albe – but Joyce joins them nonetheless: a proof that he at least knew the name of the d’Albe variety of M. Fournier.

Apart from being a noted phycisist and radio-pioneer, he was also interested in occultism, and was a onetime secretary of the Dublin section of the Society for Psychical Research. But by 1921 he had recanted and lost his faith in immortality and spiritual phenomena, when his scientific explorations led him to investigate the case of the famous medium and levitationist, Kathleen Goligher, and he found out she was a fraud and her psychic ‘shadowgraphs’ were taken with a piece of chiffon in front of the lens. (The Goligher Circle, 1922)

Quo Vadimus? Glimpses of the Future, is one of two books Fournier d’Albe contributed to the To-Day and To-Morrow series, the other one being Hephæstus, or The Soul of the Machine (1925). In Quo Vadimus, Fournier tries to predict the future of mankind. Will it survive? And if yes, if mankind won’t suicide itself, if no deadly rays from outer space will penetrate the vulnerable atmosphere, if no global ‘germ plasm’ will carry off the entire population, and lastly if no ‘collision with one of the smaller wandering planets or other denizens of outer space’ will spell catastrophe for the blue planet, how will it survive?

On the whole, Fournier’s outlook is optimistical. Mankind, at least the ‘élite’ – a fond word of his (the FW 453.33, III.2: ‘élite’ however derives, pace Vincent, from B.22.131), set againt the ‘substratum of the half-educated or uncultivated’ if not the downright ‘plodding, illiterate, monosyllabic tiller of the soil’ – is able to adapt and cooperate enough to overcome wars and strife, in give or take a hundred years. Progress is and will be being, and at an ever accelarating rate, he rightly predicts. He leads us past prognostications about transport and communications (world-wide at a moment’s notice), privacy (in well-planned cities), clothing (appropriate to the occasion), housing (everyone his own garden, household work done by machines at a button’s push), children (no nationalization!), education (interactive we would call it now), labour (comradeship without the ‘Russian blight’), government (professional, by experts), into the safe haven of The Farther Outlook, beyond the confines of a mere century, into a future (fortunately Fournier doesn’t allow his imaginition to run wild here) in which we can trot the globe at leasure, communicate with all citizens of the world if we (or they) want, and the planet will be unified and speaking one language, under one benign government, and ‘travel and commerce will be unfettered, and calamities will be alleviated and dangers met by the united forces of all mankind.’ Amen!

Television is also present in his predictions. The new invention obviously was in the air: ‘Ordinary and wireless telephony, soon to be supplemented by “television,” will gradually reduce the isolation brought about by mere space, while underground and overground transport of goods will render the distribution of | supplies less and less laborious.’ (46-47)

In the final pages Fournier ventures forward a million years, during which time we will probably have had to stave off unwanted avances from the planet Mars or another planet (‘Mars speaking,’, Joyce notes, later culling the note for a marginal note in the Night Lessons, FW 263.L1), and we will live happily ever after, provided the élan vital of the race will last.

Joyce took his usual fair amount of words words words from the book. We can – paleoarcheographicologically – again try to infer some notes that came to be used and were crossed out during the pre-transcription stage of the lost notebook, words like ‘scrap heap’, ‘in bulk’, ‘cubical’, ‘doughboys’, ‘cornerboys’, ‘globetrotter’ and ‘ruffles’ – but they will remain tentative guesses in this prudent first foray to map the interior of the lost notebooks. Undoubtedly some conjectural reconstructions will have to be dismissed, if it turns out that Joyce culled the words from other sources. We’ll see.

Mme Raphael copied thirty-one notes: conjecturally another twelve may be reconstructed from Quo Vadimus? An interesting one made its way into Finnegans Wake 549.05-07, III.3: ‘and our folk had rest from Blackheathen and the pagans from the prince of pacis: what was trembling sod quaked no more’. This ‘princ of pacis’ turns out to have been Attila. The sentence Joyce (conjecturally) notes, from Quo Vadimus?, 82-3, runs: ‘Attila could boast that when he plunged his | spear into the ground, the whole earth trembled.’

Not to be forgotten in reconstructing the lost notebooks is Notebook VI.A, Scribbledehobble, in which also remnants of the lost notebooks may be discovered to exist, as Joyce copied entries from Notebooks that were later lost. There is a ‘doughboy’ for instance on VI.A.983: probably originating in D1, and taken from Quo Vadimus, 22: ‘It would be an inspiring sight to see Japanese and Turks, Abyssinians and Zulus, Eskimos and Swiss, Brazilians and Mexicans and Doughboys,Tahitians and Britishers and Russians, Irish and Egyptians, Persians and Chinese, all vying with each other in devotion and bravery, fighting for their native planet against a ruthless and merciless invader.’ The VI.A entry hasn’t been crossed out, but if we can confirm the likelihood of a deleted D1 entry, we may know the origin of at least one word on FW 349.26-7: ‘Pleace to notnoys speach above your dreadths, please to doughboys.’ And the world will be so much the wiser.

Again, this book can be consulted online, at <>.

3. F.C.S. Schiller, Tantalus, or the Future of Man (VI.C.2.133-135)

Tantalus, or the Future of Man by the Oxonian philosopher Ferdinand Canning Scott, or F.C.S., Schiller was the third book in the To-Day and To-Morrow series and it was supposed to be an anwers to the first two, J.B.S. Haldane’s Daedalus, or Science and the Future, which Joyce excerpted in Notebook VI.B.1.13-18, and Bertrand Russell’s Icarus, or the Future of Science, which Joyce doesn’t seem to have read, unless we can find traces in relatively unexplored notebooks like D3 (Dec 1924-Feb 1925) or B7 (March-April 1925).

Schiller is not so pessimistic about the future of mankind as he says Haldane and Russell are, provided that mankind fortwith takes its evolutionary fate into its own hands and starts (and there is little time left, he says) radically improving its race. Schiller is an eugenicist, of the social Darwinian, ‘if the fittest don’t survive, let’s lend them a hand’-school. There is something inherently wrong with the eugenic stance, and in Schiller you can see what it is. It is a question of conflicting scales. Schiller begins by taking giant strides through history, lemurs, Pithecanthropi, Heidelberg and Cro-Magnon men and then us, here, in the beginning of the 21st Century. In the grand scheme of things, then, over hundreds of thousands of years, the world seems to lead in a Hegelian way to the civilized, one might even say English Crown of Creation, whereas in the here and now of Schiller’s world, everything seems to him chaos and anarchy and going all the wrong way: the poor and unfit proliferate (VI.C.2.135a) like rabbits, unstopped by natural selection, while the civilized and rich do not further their race by putting children into the world. Schiller complains that since ‘the merry days of Charles II’ the basterdization of royal blood has stopped, to the detriment of the quality of the blood of the nation. One would think it was the other way round, but anyway. Joyce merely notes ‘Charles II / $E’, on VI.C.2.135(d).

Mme Raphael copied nineteen notes: conjecturally another ten may be reconstructed from Tantalus. The note on VI.C.2.134(a), ‘skin of beast / at tomb’ entered II.2 in the 1930s, in the phrase ‘beastskin trophies’, with a burial in the next sentence. In Tantalus, Schiller visits the title hero: ‘To consult the oracle of a dead hero, it was, I knew, only necessary to undergo the process of ‘incubation,’ a sort of camping out on his tomb, in the skin of a sacrificial beast; and fortunately the tomb of Tantalus had just been discovered in Phrygia by the archaeologists of the British School at Athens.’ (Tantalus, 8) From this passage the word ‘incubation’ may well have found its way into Finnegans Wake as well, at FW 397.34: ‘for to regul their reves by incubation’, II.4. (FW 112.19-21: ‘Man will become dirigible, Ague will be rejuvenated, woman with her ridiculous white burden will reach by one step sublime incubation’, I.5 is too early.)

4. J.B.S. Haldane, Callinicus, or a Defence of Chemical Warfare (VI.C.2.137-139)

The biologist-geneticist, tovarish J.B.S. Haldane, the author of the first volume of the To-Day and To-Morrow Series, Daedalus, or Science and the Future, has already been introduced in Notebook VI.B.1, but much more could be written about him. A paradoxical, obstreperous professor, ever ready to shake up the mental cushions of his complacent contemporaries as fiercely as he could, he considered it his civic duty to ‘be a nuisance to the government’ – but, being a citizen of the world, he turned out to be a nuisance to everyone. As a Marxist, he never left off defending Stalin (‘A great man who did a very good job’), and as an atheist, the only thing he could infer about the mind of the Creator from his Creation, he replied to a question from a theologian, was ‘an inordinate fondness of beetles.’ [If you write it as ‘Beatles’, it is perhaps even more true: soon this planet will be called Planet Beatles.]

His scientific feats are legion: he was the first to suspect a ‘primordial soup’ at the origin of life on earth; his name lives on in the field of enzyme kinetics in the ‘Briggs-Haldane’ equation; in evolutionary biology, the fact that the size of animals often dictates their bodily functions is called the ‘Haldane principle’ after him; and more generally, there is ‘Haldane’s Law’, which eloquently puts epistemological limits to man’s knowledge: “The universe is not only queerer than we suppose, but queerer than we can suppose.” This law might just as well apply to the human species, certainly if it is about Haldane.

Haldane takes up, in this little volume, the cause of the much-despised chemical weapons. The reason being that they are less harmful than the time-honoured blunt projectiles: mustard gas kills of only one in forty injured, whereas shells put an end to one in three. Chemical weapons incapacite temporarily, mostly, and that is why they are more humane than the devices that are meant to destroy the adversary in large quantities. Haldane recounts an amusing story (amusing between ironical apostophes) about an English general who didn’t want the scientists to develop chemical weapons because they weren’t lethal. The army wanted weapons that would kill, not incapacitate.

Why people fear chemical weapons, Haldane explains, is because they don’t know anything about it. Education would make these weapons seem not so formidable: and gas masks are and will be enough protection against them. It is somewhat bewildering that Haldane defends these weapons on the ground of them being more or less innocuous, because if both sides of the quarrel can defend themselves perfectly well against gas attacks, what’s the use of chemical weapons in the first place?

Chemical warfare can be used to gain ground on the enemy without inordinate killing. The effects of mustard gas resemble the effects of sunburn – and as eighty percent of the negroes are immune to sunburn, Haldane writes, the future of chemical warfare would be ‘to obtain coloured troops who would all be resistant to mustard gas blistering in concentrations harmful to most white men. Enough resistant whites are available to officer them.’ Perhaps on a more realistic note, Haldane appears to be aware of the power of the atom, and he mentions the utilization of ‘subatomic phenomena,’ to ‘disintegrate or fuse atomic nuclei’ although he adds that it is an impossible venture. But that was in 1925.

Joyce read this book apparently indifferently, taking down words and dispassionately weaving them into the fabric of the Wake. Many words turn up in the later parts – as if science takes over as dawn is nearing.

Mme Raphael copied twenty-nine notes: conjecturally another twenty-three may be reconstructed from Callinicus. Joyce notes a good many terms connected to gas warfare, not surprisingly, or maybe indeed surprisingly, because Joyce never copies the obvious terms from a source book, but most of the times the accidental, personal, unwitting ones of the author. In any case, he leaves most of them unused. The only (conjectural) one derives from a passage in Callinicus in which Haldane recounts his own experiences with gas in an experimental setting: ‘None of us was much the worse for the gas, or in any real danger, as we knew where to stop, but some had to go to bed for a few days, and I was very short of breath and incapable of running for a month or so.’ (68-69) Joyce, this time certainly in character, thanks to Haldane now changes the phrase, which was already there as ‘the worse for drink’, into ‘badly the worse for boosegas’ (FW 176.31, I.7).

5. C.J. Patten, The Passing of the Phantoms: a Study of Evolutionary Psychology and Morals (VI.C.2.140-145, 148-149)

Charles Joseph Patten was again an interesting Irishman: born in Ballybracken in 1870: studied medicine at Trinity College in Dublin and became a Professor of Anatomy in Sheffield (Britain). He became mainly known through his spare time work as an ornithologist. The Aquatic Birds of Great Britain and Ireland (1906) was the result of twenty years of field work along the Irish Coast. Other birdwatchers he taught to use binoclars and to dress in camouflage colours.

From The Passing of the Phantoms we learn that he not only had a wife, but also dogs, cats, birds of prey, and other pets. At a certain moment a lady friend appears, a great chum of one of his kestrels (she manages to mesmerize the bird by singing a lullaby) and a photograph of three members of his household on the frontispiece.

Patten would be what we now call an ethologist, one who studies animal behaviour. But his scope is wider. His book has three parts. The first part deals with embryos and the forces of heredity in animal and human behaviour. In the second part he recounts a number of instances, taken from his own backyard, mainly, illustrating the mental faculties of animals: their powers of attention and sympathy. His major claim is that animals have a moral sense and that this sense, as it is evolutionary, rather than instilled from above, is also present in humans, deep inside. In the third part the author wades with Giant Steps through the history of religion in humans, not animals, to end with a a plea that we all shake off the manacles of Superstition and become Agnosticists and to devote ourselves creed-free to the study of God.

His language is essentially metaphorical, as when he talks about plants having ‘memory’. He repeats Darwin’s story about his dog, which growled and barked at an open parasol, moved by the wind – but Patten doesn’t infer fear of something unknown, but he suspects that “a dim ethical aspect of the matter took possession of the animal’s mind: was it right or wrong to permit such a strange ‘living’ agent to cause this movement.” All the more reason Joyce should be amused by it. He did note some happy unhappy phrasings. Some of them were never used and some can be conjecturally reconstrued. Among the first group we find ‘a domestic pest’ (Patten just writes ‘domestic pet’), ‘dog (she)’ – a habit of Patten’s – and of course Joyce notes the strange Christian aboutface above referred to, stenographically as ‘of course? / don’t know / but — †’, on VI.C.2.148(k).

Mme Raphael copied thirty-four notes: conjecturally another twelve may be reconstructed from The Passing of the Phantoms. Conjectures of the professorial manner include aplombarianisms of Patten’s like ‘But to continue.’ (FW 295.15: ‘But to return.’); ‘so-called’ (FW 380.15: socalled); ‘and so on’ (FW 444.01: and so on). All three come across in Finnegans Wake with the exact force of ridiculousness of the original. But: patience cometh to those who study the JJA.

6. Dora Russell, Hypatia, or Woman and Knowledge (VI.C.2.150-152)

Man is a strange animal, and so is Woman. And if man, as Protagoras maintains, is the measure of all things, then woman is the measurer. The tendency, all too human, to take your own convictions and conditions and apply them as desirable for large portions of the globe, appears nowhere as clear as in this To-Day and To-Morrow series.

Hypatia, or Woman and Knowledge, was Dora Russell’s answer to A.M. Ludovici’s Lysistrata, Woman’s Future and Future Woman, in which the author tackles the problem of the two million spinsters in Great Britain, bemoaning these poor creatures who may never know the joys of physical intimacy and the experience of having babies. Ludovici lays the blame squarely, even roundly at the feet of the feminists, the suffragettes, whose ultimate ideal it is, he says, to come to a ‘complete emancipation from the thraldom of sex.’ (Lysistrata, 92). <>

Dora Russell begged to differ: in her analysis it was the appalling conditions women face once they get married that stop them from even wanting to get married, except the most anuptaphobic ones. Women have to surrender everything once they get married: give up their jobs, their independence, their (male) friends, even their names – maiden and first. And what do they get in return? Tyranny. Drudgery. Everything life was not made for. Dora Russell, née Black, had – in the words of the Dutch-French protosuffragette Belle van Zuylen – no talent for subordination, and a great appetite for ‘sex-love’. She campaigned for sexual education and birth-control, and favoured free sexual relationships, not only practised in her own life (while married to Bertrand Russell, she had two children with the journalist Griffin Barry), but also preached in Hypatia: ‘As a Labour Minister is corrupted by Court dress, so is a free woman by the marriage-contract. Nothing but our desire for children would make us endure it.’ (Hypatia, 39)

Scene. A hotel lobby. From 13 to 19 December 1919, Bertrand Russell was in The Hague to see his pupil-turned-mentor, Ludwig Wittgenstein. In the lounge of Hotel Pomona (or, pace Ray Monk, the Twee Steeden at the Buitenhof) – Jugendstil, with a Berlage staircase to inspire Escher, and one of the first vegetarian restaurants (now Park Hotel, Molenstraat) – the two went through Wittgenstein’s manuscript of the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, line by line, in order that Russell could write a knowledgeable foreword. Dora was with him and when one day she came in from the cold, she found Wittgenstein and her Bertie across each other in Russell’s hotel room, ‘looking at a sheet of paper on which were two or three heavy pencil lines.’ They had been busy all morning discussing, they replied to Dora’s questioning, “whether there are two things in the world, or three.” (Dora Russell, The Tamarisk Tree, My Quest for Liberty and Love, Vol. 1, 1977, Ch. 5, 78) In the evening Bertrand again proposed marriage to Dora, for which he would find it worthwhile to seek divorce from his wife. Again, Dora declined. She was willing to live together with him, but not to be restricted by marital bonds. And although Bertrand philosophically agreed with her, he still wanted a legitimate heir to the family title, and the two they were married in 1921.

Apparently, what was good for the people (not to marry), in this case was not good for him. Equally paradoxical was the circumstance that fiercely independent Dora published Hypatia not under her maiden name, but as ‘Mrs Bertrand Russell.’ This may have triggered Joyce’s note about the ‘maiden name’ at VI.C.2.150(k).

The book was a succès de scandal: The Sunday Express reviewer called for a ban and immediately it sold 600 copies in a week. It was reprinted at least three times and was widely translated as well. In Calcutta in 1954, Dora Russell recounts in her memoirs, ‘an Indian Professor took the little book from his shelves and, bowing formally to me said: “You have an undying place in the history of feminism.”’ (The Tamarisk Tree, Ch. 9, 180) Dora Russell’s ideal universal society with free love for everyone may not have come about as she wished, but women’s march for freedom and equality was not to be stopped anymore, by man nor woman.

Joyce read this little volume without much gusto. Perhaps he didn’t even finish it, for in Hypatia there are words and phrases you would expect him to note and to use, but which remain unmined, like ‘nitrates from Chile’ in artificial food supplements (50) and the interesting fact that sea-urchins breed only males under certain conditions (71-2). The curious cluster on VI.C.2.142-143 about man being an appendix to his penis has its origins elsewhere, because neither Lysistrata nor Hypatia fit the picture. Another promising To-Day and To-Morrow volume, The Future of Sex by Rebecca West, was announced in 1925, but seems to be a phantom publication.

The appendix itself however did make it into Finnegans Wake. Joyce in the 1930s picked disparate notes from C2 and glued them together for insertion in the Night Lessons chapter. In this passage, ‘flyswatter’ and ‘that perfect little cad’ also originate in the D-part: MS 47478-194, ILA: so many ^+, be he a solicitor’s appendix, a pipe clerk or a free functionist flyswatter, that perfect little cad,+^ from the languors | JJA 52:96 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 272.05-08

Mme Raphael copied fourteen notes: conjecturally another seven may be reconstructed from Hypatia, and not very telling ones at that: possibly the ‘mumbo jumjubes’ of FW 273.17 (II.2), and the ‘fungopark’ of FW 51.20 (I.3) derive from Dora Russell’s mentioning of ‘mumbo-jumbo’ and ‘Mungo Park’ in a footnote on page 22. Joyce may also have been struck by the somewhat mannered exclamation ‘mark you’ on page 5 of Hypatia: ‘He [Jason] was a sodier, mark you, and a gentleman.’ But if the ‘mark you’ on FW 608.01 (IV) indeed originates here, we will still have to see.

7. Gerald Heard, Narcissus, An Anatomy of Clothes (VI.C.2.153, 156-163)

Gerald Heard is again an Irishman of sorts. He was born in London, but descended from honourable Anglo-Irish absentee landlord stock in the county Cork. The first ‘Heard of Kinsale’ had come over with Walter Raleigh, in 1579, to claim his rightful share of green Banba. Gerald Heard’s father was a Church of England deacon on the benevolent mother isle and was never much in Ireland, but Gerald did spend part of his childhood in his paternal grandmother’s home at Ballintubber, Carrigtwohill, in Cork.

After his Cambridge studies, and beginning in 1919, he worked for ten years as a personal secretary to Horace Plunkett, founder of the Irish agricultural cooperative movement. At first in Ireland, in Kilteragh, where he became acquainted with Shaw, Yeats, George Russell, Lady Greogy and other visitors, but in 1923 Kilteragh fell victim to the fiery flames, and Heard subsequently moved to Horace Plunkett’s Crest House, close to Weybridge in London—where they were, in another timespace continuum, the neighbours of John Lennon and Yoko Ono.

In Weybridge, Gerald Heard wrote his first book, Narcissus. Dozens would follow and they would bring him fame and the friendship of likeminded intellectuals with a penchant for comparative religion and a mystical, buddhistic awareness of the unity of all things, people like Aldous Huxley, Christopher Isherwood and others.

In Narcissus, Heard’s panreligious sentiments are still bubbling below the surface, hidden under a protective layer of clothes, as it were. He presents a history of clothing, swallowtailed with a history of architecture, that mirror each other or don’t mirror each other, as the times will have it. The argument is sometimes almost visionary, as in: ‘Consciousness has at least not less to learn from the subconscious than it has to teach it.’ (139) In the end however, clothes should be the new architecture, and architecture the new clothes: “The static phase of architecture is over, the long arrested spirit of man might take up his house and walk.” Christopher Isherwood wrote about Gerald Heard that he has “‘nfluenced the thought of our time, directly and indirectly, to an extant which will hardly be appreciated for another fifty years.’ These fifty years have passed quickly past, but I fear Heard is still miles ahead of us.

Presumably this vision of mankind walking about with their homes on their back is not what Joyce was chiefly interested in. He wanted words of the future, but instead this volume gave him for the most part words of the past, as Heard took the reader through centuries of getting dressed and building houses. Peascod doublets, mitres, sollerets and sabbetons, muftis, togas and Sunday bests, as well as Minoan palaces, fist-filling flints and artefacts fill the C-Notebook pages. Perhaps one of the more interesting notes is the one about the inventor of the water closet, a note that came to be used, as ‘Harrington’s invention’ in the Night Lessons chapter, II.2, on FW 266.12. Though the amount of notes is exceptionally large, any conceptual notes, visions, major or minor breakthroughs in character sketches, Narcissus apparently didn’t yield.

A couple of curious notes here illustrate the vagaries of transcription and underscore the need for transcriptural reconstruction: VI.C.2.158(i-k) read: ‘v mixed men / serbes youth / pidge buts > oputtydouto. The word ‘puttydout’ has a remarkable Werdegang. It started as ‘putti-cherub’ in Narcissus, which presumably was what Joyce wrote in D1. It was copied by Mme Raphael as ‘puttydout’ afer which Joyce inserted it into the Night Lessons chapter as ‘prettydotes’ (FW 268.05). The other Raphaelesque items have equally unlikely forefathers in Narcissus, as the quotation in the Appendix shows.

Mme Raphael copied seventy-three notes: conjecturally another twenty-nine may be reconstructed from Narcissus, among which the word ‘Diehards’ (Narcissus, 136), which may have ended up in FW 443.05 (III.2) as ‘Dora’s Diehards’, in which the name Dora is remarkably reminiscent of the author of the previous To-Day and To-Morrow book Joyce read. Another conjectural is FW 76.31 ‘by the wrath of bog’ (I.4), deriving from Narcissus, 82: The complementary masculinity of women is shown by such characters as the Queen who called herself “Eleanor by the Wrath of God,” by the Empress Matilda, and by Queen Blanche of France.’ The last two names Joyce also jotted down, but remained forever unused (VI.C2.160k-i).

8. H.F. Scott Stokes, Perseus, or of Dragons (VI.C.2.165-167)

Perseus, or of Dragons, by the otherwise unknown H.F. Scott Stokes, is the weird duck, the odd one out in the To-Day and To-Morrow Series, as it is neither about today nor about tomorrow. Stokes, out of an inexplicable attack of Kurzweil, he says himself, sets out to offer a short history of dragons. True, in his first chapter he tries to elevate the subject to a more general plane, by stating that the English national character, made up of cant, bigotry and respectability is the dragon of today, but he doesn’t pursue this line of inquiry any further. Instead, Stokes looks into the dragon myth first in ancient Greece, focusing on Perseus, and then in the Christian Middle Ages, focusing on the Saint George. Wrapping up, Stokes travels back in time to ancient Egypt, where he finds in the myths of Isis and Osiris the true origin of all dragon tales: the ur-dragon turns out to be a shark. The Egyptians ‘worshipped water, and they worshipped shells, and so the pearl within the oyster shell; and diving for pearls, their natural enemy was the shark, the guardian of the treasure and the only true and original dragon.’ (70)

There’s not much to be found here in the way of words, but, strikingly, many details in the myths retold in this book seem exceptionally applicable to the Earwicker family constellation. When the author notes that Eve wasn’t surprised hearing the Serpent talk (17), Anna Livia and her denunciation of Magrath spring to mind. In the Medieval dragon myths, the hero-slayer often has a brother, who marries the rescued maiden, because the hero is under vows of celibacy and has the lone but imminent rise to the stardom of sainthood written on his forehead. (33) Shem? Sometimes the hero rescues the maiden and then bluntly refuses even to take her home. (39-40) Shaun and Issy? The brothers often carry lifetokens, by which they know of each other’s distress. (37-38) The Terrible Twins again? The story of a boy who is abducted by a dragon and after long years is found in a cave ‘alive and reading the Gospel, which was held up before him by St. Friday, while St. Dunday further contributed to his convenience by holding the candle’ (41)? Paints a picture primitive evoking Joyce’s Kevin.

The Egyptian Isis and Osiris myths equally beggar notes that are not there. Stokes (quite darling naively) holds the Egyptian mind as a savage mind as very confused: ‘“Anne’s Mother’s daughter, Mother Anne’s daughter,” reasons my baby; [...] In exactly the same way the gods of old Egypt became inextricably mixed. The tale told of one is easily applied to another, and God the doer easliy becomes God the done-by; while the symbol of the god will equally well pass for (say) the enemy of the god, or the weapon with which he fought.’ (58-59) Which is, in a way, what Joyce was trying to do by breaking down the barriers between the dreaming and waking world.

Observations like ‘Isis the slayer becomes Isis the slain’ (60), about shells that were ‘made symbols for the Great Mother, the giver of life’ (65-6), and about the king whose duty it was to ‘spread fertility throughout the land’ (68) though seemingly more grist to Joyce’s millwheeling vicociclometer, left no trace in the C-notebook. If we want to conjecturally reconstruct them, moreover, we would have to know how Joyce rephrased the ideas of Stokes’, or how he expanded on them, but this operation will necessarily lead us even further away from a plausible reconstruction of the used B-notes in question...

Of the conjectural reconstructions, one deserves a bitsome more attention. Stokes, in a parenthesis on Lewis Carroll’s modern day dragon the Jabberwock, quotes a number of portemanteaus from the poem, among which ‘beamish boy,’ ‘tum-tum tree,’ ‘His vorpal sword went snicker-snack’, ‘slithy toves,” ‘mome raths,’ borogroves’, ‘manxome, ‘whiffling,’ and ‘burbled’. Of this small collection of Carrolliana, one word actually is in Finnegans Wake, the word ‘beamish’, from the Jabberwock line ‘Come to my arms, my beamish boy’. It is, of Carroll’s quoted portmanteaus in Perseus, perhaps the only one with a Wakean ring to it, with a base in etymology and not in pure invention. (Joyce rarely invented, he appropriated). In the Wake, on FW 405.16-17 (III.1), Joyce adorns his protagonist Shaun with the epithet, affixed to his brow. But the question is: does it be or does it not be deriving from Carroll via Stokes?

And did Joyce read more of Carroll than he wanted to admit? In his famous letter of complaint to Harriet Shaw Weaver of 31 May 1927 about his being misunderstood by the world, he claimed he had never read Alice, ‘till Mrs Nutting gave me a book, not Alice, a few weeks ago—though, of course, I heard bits and scraps.’ (LI, 255)

This, for once, I looked up with my bare eyes in the JJA. ‘No mistaking his beamish brow!’ is an interlineair addition (or ILA in Brepols parlance) on the first typescript of III.1, typed late 1924 and revised March 1925. (MS 47483-34, JJA 57:168). That means that the timeframe of insertion does not fit seamlessly, as D1 was composed in May-June. So, off with its head? If we want to make a case for ‘beamish’ as a vintage Carrollism, then we have to push back the composition of D1 or allow the revisions to be later than March, and preferably both.

Mme Raphael copied twenty-two notes: conjecturally another sixteen may be reconstructed from Perseus, among which ‘a grammarian’s funeral’ (FW 26.22-23, I.1), ‘common or garden’ (FW 503.03, III.3), ‘sovran’ (FW 455.07, III.2), ‘St. Leodegarius (St. Leger)’ (FW 498.03, III.3), ‘Hatches Cock’s Eggs’ (FW 71.27, I.3) etcetera.

9. W.L Jones, King Arthur in History and Legend (VI.C.2.168-170)

King Arthur in History and Legend (1914, 1911), is not a To-Day and To-Morrow Series book, it is a volume in The Cambridge Manuals of Science and Literature, of which Joyce already read Alexander Craigie’s staggerlingly well-informed Old Iceland Sagas (VI.C.3.200-213, from the lost Notebook D2). Joyce apparentlty wasn’t ready for it. He read it for one third only and only in 1937 (Notebook B46) he would return to it. Either he took it out again from Shakespeare & Company, or he hadn’t returned it. This time Joyce probably stopped reading the 144 page book already around page 44. Otherwise he would have noted some of the names and particularities that follow these pages. We encounter a ‘speckled ox’ (44), and a ‘long and weird list’ of Arthur’s knights and retainers on page 47, among them Sugyn, son of Sugnedydd, ‘who could suck up the sea on which were three hundred ships, so as to leave nothing but a dry strand,’ Gilla of the Deer-Legs, the chief-leaper of Ireland, who ‘would clear three hundred acres at one bound,’ Gwevyl, son of Gwestad, who, ‘on the day that he was sad, would let one of his lips drop below his waist, while he turned up the other like a cap upon his head,’ and Medyr, son of Methredydd, ‘who could from Cornwall unerringly shoot the wren through the two legs as far away as Ireland.’ Sad to say, none of these Münchhausenesque formerday superheroes made it into Finnegans Wake, from what I can see, neither from the C-notes nor from some conjectural reconstruction.

Mme Raphael copied some fifteen notes: I have no conjectural reconstructions to offer from King Arthur. The book is online: <>.

So far Joyce and the Science of the Future. His lexical hoard was expanded by at least 265 items, and conjecturally 125 more. Any conclusion about the draft levels and episodes that these To-Day and To-Morrow notes went into, can only be reached when the conjectural reconstructions have been checked in the JJA. I could, reconstructing, manually try to trace the items in the JJA, and some would have to be discarded because they were too early or too late, and some would stay, for the time being, but all the same more or less just as conjectural as they were. It was time to ask Mikio for help.

II. Notes towards a Methodology of Reconstructive Paleoarcheographology: a correspondence over email

Mikio Fuse & Robbert-Jan Henkes

From: Robbert-Jan Henkes
To: Mikio Fuse

Dear Mikio, I was planning to weave my introductions to the Today and Tomorrow sourcebooks into a kind of article for the upcoming GJS, but it won’t be half good with all the blank MS locations in the Conjectural Reconstructions. If you could make time and if it is not not much of a hassle, and you won't mind doing it, maybe you could find the MS insertions so that it will be our joint article? Again, ony at your expressest wish! I would like it very much to join forces with you.

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse
To: Robbert-Jan Henkes

Dear Robbert-Jan, It’s more than my pleasure to collaborate. Now you have said it, I have quite forgotten about all the inviting red exxxxes. I will start checking & report the results as replies to your 9 installments.

It’s not just a simple click & hit/miss job, but requires an ideal draft-usage constellation map (which we haven't), but it's an unprecedentedly radical research & I will see what my as-yet-far-from-complete database can be deployed. This job surely gives me insight into the kinds of stylesheet transformation called for to profitably employ my prospective XML converted data.

• • •

From: Robbert-Jan Henkes
To: Mikio Fuse

I was very inclusive in my potential reconstructions, and some words seem too bland to have been taken from the booklets, but better have too many looked up than let one escape, is my judicial motto.

And more work I’m saddling you up with (as we say in Double Dutch). So it isn’t a question of pushing a button and the MS location flips out, which then has to be evaluated for its probability of truly being the word/phrase in question, with a higher probabiliy if the timeframe of Notebook usage fits and more items from the Notebook found their way into a particular draft. Instead, it is hard work decising an intelligent data cruncher...

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse
To: Robbert-Jan Henkes

In my sober view, examination of the sources against C and (conjecturally restored) D is not the first & topmost on the agenda. As you have put it, “if the timeframe of Notebook usage fits and more items from the Notebook found their way into a particular draft.” That’s the first priority. I hope you don’t regret kickstarting me if I start spending time checking the overall C2 notebook draft usage.

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse
To: Robbert-Jan Henkes

I’ve finished filling in all the notesheet usage data in my C02 excel sheet, but it turns out that no notesheet usage is known in the popular science pages. I will check the draft usage of that range then, but I now realise that's of secondary, not primary, importance in validating your conjectural reconstructions. I was confused when I insisted on the importance of the “C2” draft-usage frame of reference. The real (ideal) frame of reference we would like to have some day should be the list of all the segments in MSS that were added (or newly appeared) but are not yet associated with their parent NB/NS entries, sorted first by draft-usage date and then by book/chapter/section. I will definitely expect my prospective XML database to process this job, but that's a dream talk for now.

Anyway I will turn my attention to the source book texts and your c-r notes and see how my database can be employed to validate your suggestions.

• • •

From: Robbert-Jan Henkes
To: Mikio Fuse

Thanks, what I will do is add the rest of the Lost Notebook D1 part to the file, and I will sort out the insertion data for the items that went into FW through C2, through the Raphael transcription, which should be doable for me as they involve one run of additions only, in (hopefully) one chapter.

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse
To: Robbert-Jan Henkes

That makes sense, defining that our scope should be the span of C2 that derive from D1, and that we should provide all draft-usage analyses (whether real or conjecturally reconstructed).

• • •

From: Robbert-Jan Henkes
To: Mikio Fuse

To me, as you will understand, the post To-Day and To-Morrow notes of C2/D1 are not quite so interesting, because I didn’t find any source and so cannot start conjecturing and reconstructing. If I had my way, I’d limit myself, for this our exercise de paléolarchéography, to VI.C.2.123-170, that is the D1 part that I found sources for – but (and this is a big but) I imagine that you would much rather want to tackle the entire D notebook in this venture. So I will type out the rest of the D1 notes as well (up to VI.C.2-197), and try to locate the deleted items in the JJA, in due course. 

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse
To: Robbert-Jan Henkes

I think you are right: that our focus should be on pp. 123-170. I’m sorry for imposing a megalomaniac framework & leading you astray.

I’m still filling my database with the basic C2 data you have provided, checking them against the source books as appropriate. As I did so, it occurred to me that my newspaper archive may be worth mobilising, just in case, for the units whose parent sources are unknown/uncertain. The date Rose gives for D1 is May-June 1925.

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse

To: Robbert-Jan Henkes

I’ve just finished transposing your findings onto my Excel. I hope to give you a report on my Newspaper Archives search results by the end of month, and then, finally I will be able to start doing what you originally asked me to do. Sorry I cannot be quicker.

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse
To: Robbert-Jan Henkes

This is just an interim report, just a few steps ahead of the start line, in fact! In the attached Word file you will note I’m adding comments, purple-markered (to be checked/doubtful) or indigo-markered (corrected), aside from those in ‘balloons’. Mind you this is just an example, far from final.

In the Excel file, I’ve created a “D01” worksheet, to ease my grasp of all you have proposed so far, and add (from now on) whatever I may have got to supplement/correct, if any. For validation of your conjectural reconstructions, I will first focus on dead sure or highly plausible items (indigo-cells) and then on (just) probable ones (yellow-cells).

Speaking of conjectural reconstructions, don’t you think we have to suggest those regarding units that were transcribed. We may do so only where necessary: like 126j-127d (that’s what I’ve just started to check). In fact, I believe conjectural reconstruction, or transcriptural (transcribal?) reconstruction, of transcribed units has a higher priority than that of untranscribed ones.

VI.C2.127(a) like a cowshite >
VI.C2.127(b) wireless sparkles >
VI.C2.127(c) head A as away before >
VI.C2.127(d) at end of room
Wireless Possibilities 19-22: You will soon find this out if you put your head out of a railway carriage window, because the air is so heavy that we have got to really kick it and hit it hard before we can obtain a reasonable degree of noise. § When a speaker is standing at one end of a room, irrespective of what he says, the actual temperature-rise of the air can be measured, a fact which was used during the war for the inspection of sound. § Sound is a very complicated thing. It can be reflected in much the same way as light, and I suppose most school-boys | know that if a concave mirror is at one end of a room and a similar mirror at the other with a watch hanging at its focus, the watch cannot be heard by an observer walking across the room, yet as soon as he places his ear at the focus of the other mirror he will hear the tick clearly, showing that sound is easily reflected. Everybody who has heard an echo should know this. § Sound travels also very slowly, and there is plenty of time for wind and different mechanical scraping effects to spoil the purity and partially absorb its delicacies. § Remember that if I am addressing a man by wireless who is one hundred miles away, someone who is listening on a telephone will hear my voice | [Fig.1] before I am heard at the end of the big hall where I am speaking, because the velocity of sound is only 1100 feet per second, and wireless, like light, travels much faster.

Let me disregard (a) and (b), which I actually suspect may be different units, and concentrate on (c) and (d). As you say, in most cases diversion of a given unit from the source text needs no annotation, like the case of (d). But what about (c)? The reader can see the ‘head’ and ‘before’ have matches in the source text, but what about ‘A as away’? it is evidently the scribe’s erroneous transcription of the D notebook, and the only clue we have is the source text, but where? Did Joyce write ‘far away’? ‘railway’? etc. To me this is exactly the same conjectural reconstruction process, and wherever it is not self-evident, it should be the editor’s responsibility to give it explicitly.

But let’s not bother our head about this for now. For me I spent weeks learning XML and now (at my tutor’s gentle instigation) learning my first ever real computer language—the famous Perl. It’s really exciting, because it promises to provide a powerful search capability to my dream archive.

PS: Here is another example to show the need for transcriptural reconstruction of what’s there in scribe’s transcription—

VI.C2.127(i) low voices
VI.C2.127(j) afte meal
Wireless Possibilities 33-4: It is the science of wireless that is | beautiful; it is the possibilities that are wonderful; but to talk of pure sound and to judge of it by the human ear which varies after every meal, is like measuring the amount of current passing through an electric-light bulb by feeling its heat with the hand.

Unit (i) should have been ‘ear varies’ in D1, and the note should be given to that effect, because, as they are typed, they are wildly distinct but in the scribe’s hand we (but not the reader) can palpably trace ‘ear varies’. We should of course not correct ‘low voices’ because it’s what’s evidently there in the (intermediary) primary source we are dealing with. The ‘correct’ reading applies not to C2 but D1, so the c-r should be a note for the latter. That’s what you do for untranscribed D1 units in the gaps of C2 units. So why not do it for transcribed ones—that’s my point.

• • •

From: Robbert-Jan Henkes
To: Mikio Fuse

I see what you mean. Hilarious, these typos of Mme R! And absolutely wonderful and vital if they can be inferred from the source. They deserve further notice of course, in an introduction, and in a note underneath the item in question. I always tried to highlight the words in the source quotation, but this is not standard practice in the FW Notebooks editorial team. Still, I think it is good to continue: it makes reading the quotations and pinpoint the words somewhat easier. Furthermore, in case of discrepancies between R’s transcription and our tentative transcribal reconstruction, there is always the ‘Note’ underneath. And I see now as well what you mean by reconstructing: the ‘low voices’ doesn’t belong to D1, only to C2. Hm. How to put it in?

Note: (i) D1: ear varies [transcripturally reconstructed]
Note: The D1 reading of item (i) probably is: ear varies.

Something like that? But your problem is again of a different order: you have to make another column in the Excel sheet for the ‘reconstructed’ D notebook, probably.

PS Where to draw the line, transcripturally reconstructing Mme R.’s typos? Some are slight indeed, and wouldn't be deserving of a note. But they do need to be noted in the overall D1 Reconstruction of course.

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse
To: Robbert-Jan Henkes

The note would be something like that, inserted before the source citation. If or no we should give the same typographical values (header, font size, indentation etc.) as the r-c in your original sense, i.e. if or no we should present the two kinds of notes as unrelated or related (as r-c of the missing notebook units), we can decide not now but after we have studied a little more.

Where to draw the line? I would say, where only we have positive evidence [source text citation + (if possible) image reproduction of Mme R’s hand] to support our c-r. That again is true for untranscribed D1 units (evidence: MS citation + ‘abstract of draft usage’). Or else people will call our effort not conjectural but speculative ;-)

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse
To: Robbert-Jan Henkes

I finished my first run of close examination (that excludes the scope of untranscribed units) of the first book (Wireless Possibilities) and moved on to a second book available, Hypatia. As you say, this one doesn’t seem to have many contributions, but as a happy byproduct of my examination, I’ve hit upon a dead sure newspaper source, first ever of this kind, for 150e-g, & h-i.




Irish Independent 250519-6/4

cr2: cress



artesian wells

Irish Independent 250519-6/4



   to harbour

Irish Independent 250519-6/4



  Thomas Witford.

Irish Independent 250519-6/7

cr2: Wilfred




Irish Independent 250519-6/7

cr2: clavilux


I will be provisionally using cr2 for conjectural reconstruction of transcribed D1 units (transcriptural reconstructions), as against cr[1] for untranscribed ones.

• • •

From: Robbert-Jan Henkes
To: Mikio Fuse

Congratulations! The first newspaper source found in a lost notebook! You do realise that this will will lead us on our hunt for ‘Conjectural Reconstructions’, items that Joyce used in FW and weren’t transcribed, deep into the formidable realm of newspaper sources .... O dear o dear what did we do ....

• • •

From: Robbert-Jan Henkes
To: Mikio Fuse

Conjectural reconstruction! found in your newspaper article!

D1 ‘not by a jugful’

Connacht Tribune 16 May 1925-7/5: Cuckoo Legislation [...]

... That’s poetry, but the swain dragged up on the heath (heathens) were
never half as chivalrous, as tractable, as noble or as kind as those
cultured in urban environment—not by a jugful! ...

FW 64.21-22: not by a large jugful! | MS XXXXXXXX [so it will remain highly conjectural....]

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse
To: Robbert-Jan Henkes

Bravo! It reminds me that citations should not be curtailed where D notebooks are involved. More tears shed in correcting the poor ocr result of bad old newspaper typeface, but I can be smiling when the labour is rewarded like this.

• • •

[And Mikio found more newspaper sources. The Weekly Irish Times, the Connacht Tribune, the Irish Indepent and the Irish Times yielded forty-eight notes in all, four of which made it into Finnegans Wake, as the Appendix will show. These source articles may moreover be amplified by eight conjectural items. For instance, the article about the cockfights in Meath (159g) reports that ‘thirteen mains between Northern and Southern birds were to be decided’. The Finnegans Wake mention of ‘mains’ (FW 86.25-26: after cockofthewalking through a few fancyfought mains’, I.4) could originate here. Joyce read and made notes from articles about the stars (186c-h), watercress (150e-g), the clavilux (150h-i), ‘Woman and her home: Embroidery: An Ancient Art” (151c-e), Italian pastoral letters (151i-j), an interrupted rosary (163l) (with a certain Finucane in it, who ‘had law about a turf bank’, cf FW 324.21-22), ‘Your Character from Handwriting’ etc etc: the hotchpotch we have come to expect from Joyce as a Reader.]

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse
To: Robbert-Jan Henkes

I think it’s time to suspend the source-hunting job & move on to where angels fear to tread. This time I’m really going to start what you originally asked me to do. The attached Excel file fixes the starting point for the real job: checking the MS/FW locations of your cr candidates and validating their eligibility. As my training in XML/Perl is beginning to open up a new scope for the above two routines, I won’t come back to you so soon with any substantial results. It’s time to contrive a reliable Ariadne’s thread so that we won’t get lost. Be patient.

Meanwhile, in the attached Excel you will find some or other suggestions & clues for the revision of the current Word file data. Although neither closely updated nor synchronised with Excel, my latest Word file also has some revision-related markups & comments.

• • •

From: Robbert-Jan Henkes
To: Mikio Fuse

Thanks for the files. The Word file I updated with your comments, and am sending it back to you, for you to have the most recent one. But the Excel file is of course where it all should lead to and come from. It already now looks like a fine piece of work. I see for instance that the conjecturals (cr1) have a location in the MS, which in the end will attribute to their inclusion or exclusion. Gooood! And I understand you don’t want to sort out everything manually: your thread of Ariadne should be a key to open the entire Box of Pandora.

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse
To: Robbert-Jan Henkes

Today I did a mini Excel (and non-XML/Perl) based experiment, primarily to see how my brain works in this forbidden research, so that I can specify what function I would later like XML/Perl to emulate (& outdo). To me the most suspicious section/level is III:3A.8/3B.8. Because I have the transcription of all the levels for this section group, I identified the level of each of the candidates and eliminated all those that are too early (earlier than 1925). You would agree that 3A.8 is the field to launch further tests (mobilising XML/Perl).

I’m sorry to say my MS database is not complete yet, but for the current purpose (killing too-early ones), it proved useful enough. See the attached Excel.

Maybe that is almost everything you initially asked me to do, but mind you this doesn’t positively support anything; it only disproves the zero-possibility candidates. So to me this is only a first screening. The next screening process is—yes, to see if the draft-usage locations claimed by the candidates do not legitimately belong to other notebooks. Theoretically we need all notebook usage data, which we don’t have, so my suggestion is to concentrate on the uniquely interesting III:3A.8[/3B.8] and see how far we can go (& come back safely, so that people still take us seriously).

You already have an impressive report to make about the D1 sources (accompanied by my modest newspaper source report), and that should be the first objective of the article. Then, as a consequence of these findings, we can draw the audience’s attention to the intriguing subject of “conjectural reconstruction” AS A SUBJECT, namely to raise the issue of cr as an issue, and to show a case study of the key draft-usage in III:3A.8, instead of bringing out an ambitious list of all candidates for all sections/levels. You can still attach a list of discreet “high-certainty” candidates for all sections/levels, but the main point of the second section should be to demonstrate a plausible research method, rather than dozing the audience with a sheer maze without giving any clue to judge on their own to what extent the maze is real and to what extent illusory.

My idea is to make a list of all additions/changes found in III:3A.8[/3B.8], provisionally mark those we propose to be attributable to D1, and ask & see on the jj-genetic list what Roland, Vincent and others think. All this can be done in a month or so, so we can practically be in time for the Spring 2012 issue of GJS. What do you think?

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse

To: jjgenetic

Robbert-Jan & I are now are starting to see to what extent our conjectural reconstruction is verifiable. We have already excluded all those candidates that are too early in terms of draft insertion. Here is a second step. We have come to agree that we concentrate on III:3A-8 for the moment because it includes relatively many additions than other draft section/levels that may have come from D1. (Many? There are only 7 in fact...)

There are two paths we can probe into:
1) Are there any other additions listed below that may have come from D1 (i.e. which remind us of any passages we have so far cited or read in the original sources)?
2) Isn’t any of the 7 additions already known to have a legitimate parent (i.e. notebook/notesheet precedent)?
3) How many of the rest of the additions are already known to have legitimate parents?

For these purposes, I have created a list of all additions made in III:3A.8 manuscripts. See further below.
There are also inter-level textual differences to check (i.e. all new segments in the body of text that were not in III:3A.7). I will provide you with the diff list when ready.

But does it make sense? For me I am positively interested in how far we can logically narrow down the scope of possible conjectures, to clearly distinguish them from wild speculations. By nature of the subject, the research method cannot help being negatively excusive & we will never positively prove anything.

List of III:3A.8 additions (including substitutions)



, tradition stick-pass-on.
[This list consisted of about a thousand changes Joyce made at this level, extracted now indeed, after many toils and troubles, at a flick of the wrist. I could find some more changes possibly attributable to D1 material, and commented as well on other suspects:]

• • •

From: Robbert-Jan Henkes
To: jjgenetic

Some thoughts and considerations. It occurred to me that there might be remnants of D notebooks in Scribbledehobble... We’re not finished, yet, adding data.

, korsets krosser
Narcissus, 49: ... those great muscled, wasp-waisted bull-netters on the Vapphio cup, and not recognize a people well able to value, employ, and preserve physical splendour. The women, too, have the same magnificence; their display witnesses perfect organic development. The corset and bustle are only to accentuate health, to make up to man what his eocene indeterminateness, his immense mental progress, had neglected of the physical aspect.

It's his lost chance,
Emania. Ware him well!
[This one, along with quite some other ones, seems to derive from another D-notebook, D.3, notes taken from Douglas Hyde, The Story of Early Gaelic Literature: I. VI.C.5.19(j)-21(a); 40(j)-43(i); 46(e)-48(c); 49(k)-51(g); 52(o)-54(d).]

Perseus, title: Perseus, or of Dragons [and passim]

[Sounds as if I read it somewhere, but it could be in a discussion about bakelite. To be checked: Edmund Edward Fournier d’Albe, Hephæstus: or, The Soul of the Machine, 1925, 65-66: ... the farmer who gathers the fruit and the town dweller who consumes it. Nor is Hephaestus satisfied yet. His | task is but half finished. The whole earth must be Vulcanized. § The God of Fire and of Iron hobbles over the broad earth, ...]

[Maybe a leftover insertion from the Psychic Messages of Oscar Wilde, also from D.3, VI.C.5.275ff: Psychic Messages viii: He [Prof. Richet] does not believe in survival, and regards the phenomena as merely due to psychical faculties possessed by certain persons who are psychics or mediums. The subjective he attributes to “cryptesthesia,” the objective to “pragmatic cryptesthesia.”]

, with my thraindropsthraintropps
for my eyesalt,
x-deleted note: VI.C2.147(g) Eyesalt / Eysolt / Eyolt

See the leabhour
of my generations!
[Also possibly from Early Gaelic Literature]

voices apart.
Wireless Possibilities, 20-22: Remember that if I am addressing a man by wireless who is one hundred miles away, someone who is listening on a telephone will hear my voice | [Fig.1] before I am heard at the end of the big hall where I am speaking, because the velocity of sound is only 1100 feet per second, and wireless, like light, travels much faster. [see next quotation]

has hopped it or who can throw any lime on the subject
Tantalus, 37: It is probable that the social history of Iceland, settled as it was by unbridled individualists who would not brook any form of organized government, might throw some light on this process of taming the individual.


--Ophiuchus being visible above the [horizon][ihorizon]. Muliercula occluded
by [Saturn’s] ring system. The [Pisciolinnies]
are a bonniebonny feature in the
northern sky while
Irish Times 3 June 1925-9/4-5: [ASTRONOMICAL NOTES FOR / JUNE. / SATURN’S RING SYSTEM.] / [....] THE STARS:-- / At midnight on June 1st; 11 p.m. on the 15th; 10 p.m. on the 30th. Scorpio, Ophiuchus, and Hercules are on the Meridian. The great red star, Antares, the “Red Star of Scorpio,” glows low on the horizon a little West of South. [...] The Milky Way, though hardly visible in the midsummer twilight, starts from the horizon immediately below the Pole, between the stars of Auriga and Perseus, traverses Cassiopeia, Cygnus and Aquila, to pass out of sight of our latitudes in a specially brilliant knot, or, rather, cluster of knots, in Sagittarius. [...] Just outside the ring, and faintly visible to the naked eye, is “Messier 11,” sometimes called the “Wild Duck” Cluster. [...]

amok and amak
Tantalus, 41: No wonder the more prescient are dismayed at the prospect of the old savage passions running amok in the full panoply of civilization.
MS47484a-266_FW498-23_add1: >
with his arthurious

on the table round
[Maybe from King Arthur in History and Legend, but doesn’t have to be, of course]

Lewd's Carol!
Perseus, 34-5: (The most recent [of dragon legends] I believe to be the poem on the “Jabberwock,” which occurs in Through the Looking Glass. The hero, though evidently somebody’s child (“Come to my arms, my beamish boy”) has no undoubted sire.

[O], purpurando, and without
too much italiote interfairance
Wireless Possibilities, 51: Interference is certainly a difficulty, for in the case of a picture the eye cannot distinguish between faults so easily as the ear can automatically separate unpleasant noises from music. 
[or: FW 522.35-36: without your interferences or any other pigeonstealer | III.3A.5 | MS XXXXXXX]

Let’s hear what science has to say, pundit-the-next-best-thingking.
[Could be a general comment on the To-day and To-morrow series]

Irish Times 3 June 1925-7/1: [NELSON'S PILLAR MAY GO. / PLAN BEFORE COMMISSION. / "AN OBSTRUCTION." / "NO POLITICAL SIGNIFICANCE." / DUBLIN'S TRAFFIC / PROBLEM.] ... A new site, if any, is a matter that cannot be hurriedly decided upon, and consultations between different departments will be necessary before anything definite can be arranged. ....

Narcissus, 9: Everything shall be seen steadily and whole. It is of little use. Surprised at our own patience in considering it at all, we dismiss the clue without a misgiving, assured that it is a trifle. We ought to be learning that the very sensation of amusement at our own tolerance should warn us that we are being bamboozled.
[Or is it: III.3A.6?]

--The mujic of the futurefooture on the barbarihams of the bashed?
[Could also be a general remark about the series]

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse
To: Robbert-Jan Henkes

Great, Robbert-Jan, I do see not a few palpable hits. I’m also glad you have proved the usefulness of My Script Op. 3 “Extract All Adds”, a child of my one-month-old perl/xml technique so promptly. This automatic indexing of all adds (it can also do the same for dels & substs) is really significant in a practical sense. This function should be a must include in my dream digital archive.

I will be working on “Find Diff” and “List (All) (Known) Notebook Parents” scripts now (OP. 6 & Op. 7). These are predictably much harder to compose. Be patient. I will remember to include the VI.A data in the latter.

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse
To: jjgenetic

I’ve just finished the Diff check script. It turns out that virtually all the differences between the Level 7 text (sans deleted segments) and Level 8 text (sans added segments) are of little importance for the current purpose: they are like the cases of more/less white spaces, with/without punctuations, etc. They also include a number of differences by just one character, which may include MY typos/misreadings (So another important use of this Diff check function should be for refining the typed data, to make the archive self-corrective, but that’s another story).

(Note: Level 8 misses pages corresponding to FW 512.07-515.15, so we can’t check the difference in this span.)

Therefore I’m not posting the Diff list here, but let me cite just a few examples below to note a small but important point I came to realise when using the CHECK ADDS & DIFFS technique.

In response to my Add Check list, Robbert-Jan commented as follows:

Narcissus, 9: Everything shall be seen steadily and whole. It is of little use. Surprised at our own patience in considering it at all, we dismiss the clue without a misgiving, assured that it is a trifle. We ought to be learning that the very sensation of amusement at our own tolerance should warn us that we are being bamboozled.
[Or is it: III.3A.6?]

You are right there. In the Diff check result I got the following analysis:
(NEW: MS47484a-274_FW515-28)
that [bamboozelen*] voice of yours. Let's have it.
that bamboozelem voice of yours. Let's have it.
(OLD: MSPrinceton-33_FW515-28)
So what the ADD and DIFF CHECK results mean as a whole is this:
• “bamboozelem” was already there in Level 7 (& 6 as Robbert-Jan notes.)
• On Level 8 it first stood as a partially illegible word “[bamboozelen*]” but Joyce restored it to “bamboozelem”.
Although this doesn’t happen very often, I must make sure to distinguish between cases of substitution (tagged as <subst><del>OLD</del><add>NEW</add></subst>) and restoration (tagged as <restore><del>OLD</del><add>NEW</add></restore>) and not to pick up <add> elements that are nested within <restore> elements.

The <add> on Level 8 for FW 476.11-12 is another case of <restore>.

their broadawake
probers' hats on
(NEW: MS47484a-160_FW476-11)
upholding their broadawake
(OLD: MSPrinceton-20_FW476-11)

(NEW: MS47484a-160_FW476-12)
their firrum heads.
probers' hats on their firrum heads.
(OLD: MSPrinceton-20_FW476-12)

Now I will move on to Job 3: How many of the rest of the additions are already known to have legitimate parents? A most difficult task.

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse

To: jjgenetic

I’ve just finished creating my MSparentNB script. This finds the notebook parents for the additions (or segments that are virtually the same thing) made on a given MS draft/section level (in our case III:3A.8).

Because the notebook data available to me are limited (what’s more, because it takes two days to convert a full notebook data to XML files), I’ve chosen B01, B03 and C02 for test input. Technically, I’m quite satisfied with the method, but for shortage of data, the results are rather disappointing.

Because B01 has no draft usage, the script first returned two (both uncertain) instances from B03, and then all the instances of Robbert-Jan’s conjectural reconstruction. The manuscript ids (e.g. MS_MS47484a-261v-262_FW493-01_seg2) corresponds to those of added segments I posted earlier (e.g. MS_MS47484a-261v-262_FW493-01_add2).

PS: According to my old search method (Excel data meta-searched by a standalone search application, there are only two other (possible) notebook parents:

B05-80     gangplank         r             III:3A.847484a-248           FW 478.16?

B14-88     so far as [me] $/\    o            III:3A.8  47484a-275         FW 516.26?         “we”?

As many of the list members will be able to tell & prove, there should certainly be more, but thus far is all I can help Robbert-Jan WITH A METHOD (old or new).

+ Note: the “cert” section is not implemented this time, but both of the two B03 instances are “uncertain”; in the colour section “NA” means not deleted.

B03-142_d) [cert: ] [g]
--The woods of Fogloot. O mis [padredges]!

B03-016_a) [cert: ] [NA]
Trist wounded at Lansdowne Rd
Lansdowne Road

C02-138_5x) [cert: ] [D1]

C02-166_13x2) [cert: ] [D1]
St. Leodegarius (St. Leger)
Leodegarius S. Legegleger

C02-166_13x1) [cert: ] [D1]

C02-163_15x1) [cert: ] [D1]
so far as size was concerned
[,] so far as him was concerned,

C02-134_2x2) [cert: ] [D1]
promptitude and perfection

C02-127_11x) [cert: ] [D1]
what can be coded can be decoded
What can't be coded can be decorded

C02-149_11x) [cert: ] [D1]
scalphunters & headhunters
[sal] scalphuntersscalpjaggers with houthheadhunter*

• • •

From: Robbert-Jan Henkes

To: Mikio Fuse

Dear Mikio, if you have designed a data sheet that will be able to contain, in the end, all relevant notebook and draft entries, then that is a great feat indeed. You have moved a mountain, and it may have born for the time being just a mousey, in fact the main preparations for an intelligent genetic analysis have been laid. So the challenge is now to complete the digital record of Work in Progress to fill your mine with ore from which you will extract the gold. Not a mean task either...

• • •

From: Mikio Fuse

To: Robbert-Jan Henkes

Dear Robbert-Jan, you get me completely right. Whether or not we live to see the expected free (or paid?) flow of all available genetic data of FW, it’s important to construct the proper channels (methodology) well in advance to contain it, unless we just want to be momentarily impressed or stupefied by a memorable but soon to be forgotten flood scene.

If I may add one further stretch to my roadmap, it is predictable that even when the “gold” is mine, yours & everyone’s, it’s only the start of collaborative refinement of data & data analysis (CR included), no matter how many genetic FW archives are created in the future (the more & the more functionally diverse, the better).

III A Methodology of Conjectural Reconstruction

Mikio Fuse


“Conjectural reconstruction” is a term Robbert-Jan has introduced in the course of our joint project of studying the pages of Notebook VI.C.2 that are known to have derived from the lost notebook VI.D.1. As Robbert-Jan acknowledges, his model precursor is Danis Rose and John O’Hanlon’s reconstruction of (Ulysses) Notebook VI.D.7 in The Lost Notebook (1989), and as Danis Rose himself emphasises in his Preface, reconstruction of a lost notebook can never be “total and complete,” nor can it be “everywhere accurate” (ix). Indeed, it involves a peculiar mixture of excitement and caution. Exciting, because it intends to explicate one of the least explored (because most obscure) areas of genetic Finnegans Wake studies. Requires caution, because by definition it has to be based on only indirect, circumstantial evidence, in the absence of the original notebook.

There is no expelling this double-mindedness, but it does not follow that “conjectural reconstruction” should remain a no-go area reserved for daredevils only—particularly so in the age of digital research and archiving. How to demystify this apparently dangerous area—how to safely tread into and safely come back from it—with a steadfast “method” enabled and enhanced by digital media is the subject of my contribution here.

With hindsight it is apparently idiosyncratic of paper-media based genetic Finnegans Wake studies in general that, for all the incredible achievements (and far more incredible efforts put into them), the methodology that the editors/authors adopted has been consistently regarded as unprintable (in the literal, non-moral sense of the word). If the main reason is the economy of paper space, we have no reason to stick to the old convention when working in digital space. What is more, once the methodology is made transparent, any reader, or if it is a digital archive, any user, can follow the method, not only to verify what the editors/authors claim as achievements but to produce more achievements (more refined, more extensive, etc.). Even more so, if the archive strategically chooses to remain open to any productive revision of its methodology, as well as ever more (and ever-more refined) future document data input. That is my general scheme of an ideal genetic Finnegans Wake digital archive.

My real archive is still in its incipient stage, but it is very good to consider at this early stage how C notebooks, along with other related document data (sources and manuscripts), are to be digitally documented and how the data, either as individual entity or as a dossier, should be processed to good effect. For one thing, unlike B notebooks, C notebooks are a peculiar pre-digital hyper-textual recycling platform, so they call for an extra set of parameters in documentation. For another, a number of C notebooks (including VI.C.2) are to be linked with still another pre-digital hyper-textual recycling platform of Joyce’s invention, i.e. extradraft notesheet material, which also needs an extra set of parameters in documentation. Third—and this is our current subject—some C notebooks involve lost D notebooks, so the archivist should consider how to virtually represent (or hide, according to the user’s demand) the lost notebook information. All these put a would-be archivist to an extra task, but it is presumably wiser to work out a methodology that embraces such extraordinary phenomena first, for a system that can handle extraordinary cases can naturally be expected to accommodate ordinary ones without pain.

Conjectural Reconstruction

Before discussing methodology, let us first clarify what we exactly mean by “conjectural reconstruction” and where it stands in the overall archiving scheme. Figure 1 shows an “ordinary” set of components of Finnegans Wake genetic documents and their relationship.

The striped cells indicate where the archivist/researcher should be prepared to find and describe links. The cell between the B notebook and the C notebook has special oblique stripes, to indicate an added degree of complication due to the scribe’s proneness to misrecognise the parent B notebook entries.

Figure 2 is a modification of Figure 1, showing an “extraordinary” case where D notebooks are involved.

Note that the D notebook itself is obscured while the cells that connect it to the Notesheet/Manuscript and the C notebook components are densely meshed, to indicate the difficulty of establishing direct links between them.

Figure 3 shows where the task of conjectural reconstruction lies in the overall archive scheme.

As the two separate dark-blue frames make explicit, there are actually two types of conjectural reconstruction.

One—let us call it cr1—attempts to restore those parts of the lost notebook that were not copied onto the C notebook. The other—call it cr2—attempts to restore those parts of the lost notebook that were copied onto the C notebook. Because Madame Raphael’s transcription does not always tell what was really there in the original notebook, it is necessary to design an encoding that facilitates transformation of a given C notebook entry to a virtual D notebook counterpart. (We may also call a cr2 a ‘transcriptural reconstruction’.) In The Lost Notebook Rose and O’Hanlon made a clever use of page margins, assigning the footnote for the record of editorial “corrections” made to the C notebook entry. In a digital archive the transformation can be executed by implementation of a relevant XML tag, with added information in the @cert attribute to describe if the reconstruction is done with “high,” “middle,” “low” or “unknown” certitude.

In the above Figure 3, it is especially to be noted how, whether it is cr1 or cr2, identification and analysis of the source is all-important in the work of conjectural reconstruction, because it is the only solid ground on which conjectural reconstruction finds its springboard. On top of this, cr1 has no other way to turn to but the Notesheet/Manuscript evidence, however densely meshed the area of research may be. For cr2, the area of research may not appear so bewildering, but as a matter of fact, it is very difficult to “correct” all misreadings of the scribe. In cr2, as well as in cr1, we do need a methodology to execute the task to satisfaction.


Source Identification and Analysis (cr1 and cr2)

As mentioned above, this is the all-important cornerstone of “lost notebook” reconstruction. In normal source hunting we try to establish the link between the child (authorial notebook) and the parent (source), but in the absence of the child we needs must look into a more distant connection between the parent and the grandchild (scribal notebook), launching word/phrase match queries based on the C notebook entries. It practically works for a start, but to do the job accurately and exhaustibly, usual lexical/semantic word search proves insufficient, because of Madame Raphael’s curious misrecognition of the words and phrases Joyce actually wrote. Even an innocent-looking entry in plain English should be handled with caution, for what looks like an ordinary piece of chalk may turn out to be a chunk of exotic cheese. For instance, it is only after the source article (Irish Independent 9 June 1925-6/4) is identified that we can match Madame Raphael’s “inquest on memory” (VI.C.2.189m) with its grandparent “inquest of mummy,” not vice versa.

There are a couple of considerations expected of a would-be archivist to help the user maneuver this peculiar stumbling-block. First, the source should be cited in full so that the user may possibly discover any matches overlooked by the editor in the same source book/article. Luckily a digital edition, unlike a paper edition, would not care whether a citation is a single line or a book length. Second, because the stumbling-block lies in morphological, as against lexical/semantic, misrecognition of given words and phrases, the archive should provide the notebook contents not singly in print format (the post-Gutenberg letter symbols that have over hundreds of years been refined to facilitate lexical/semantic comprehension and analysis of “printed texts”) but also as a digital facsimile, i.e. graphic reproduction of physical handwriting in the document. When printed, “memory” and “mummy” don’t sound (or mean) alike, but when morphologically compared side by side, they do look alike, and the scribe’s mistake makes sense—there is a logic to Madame Raphael’s morphological misrecognition of words. To press this second point a step further, we might even consider taking note of all the logics evident in all the instances of misrecognition (for example, in a cursory hand “mummy” may look like “memory”) in the form of a morphological misrecognition database, so that we could use it as a working tool to assist more source and source passage identification. That is a third consideration.

The last-mentioned device may sound like a tool for use specific to C and D notebook researches, but it is not. Remember any reader/transcriber of Joyce’s handwriting in his notebooks can be a Madame Raphael. A database that samples the logic of misrecognition may be expected, especially where there is no other help, to help enhance our recognition of notebook entries and consequent further source discovery.

What might also be expected to be realised in synch with the morphological misrecognition database is a concordance that scans the known source text and suggests more source passage candidates for a given (obviously mistranscribed, or apparently innocent-looking) C notebook unit whose source passage has yet to be identified. It may or may not work, but after all the normal offline and online word/phrase queries are exhausted, it should be worth trying.

Location of Draft Usage (cr1)

Normally location of a notebook unit’s draft usage is achieved in the following steps: first we look for a word/phrase match for a given (generally, but not exclusively) crayon-deleted notebook unit in the whole manuscript database. Out of the returned candidates only those that are chronologically passable survive, and they are further checked against what the editors of the Brepols notebook editions call the “Abstract of Draft Usage,” where a given notebook’s known instances of draft usage are grouped by the colour of crayon-deletion and are sorted by the date of the point-of-entry draft section and level. The fewer siblings are to be found under the same crayon-colour and draft section/level, the less certain claim the instance would appear to have as a draft usage. There is also a dossier-level screening, where it is checked if the claimed location has not been already filled by another notebook unit.

When it comes to the draft usage of a lost notebook, we face almost impenetrable layers of stumbling-blocks. In the initial search for word/phrase matches, we start not with a notebook entry (no D notebook because it is absent, and no C notebook because used units are ignored by Joyce’s order) but with an arbitrarily chosen word/phrase occurring between the source passages of two C notebook units, assuming that the units are apparently sequential but may possibly have been interceded by one or more deleted units in the parent D notebook. On choosing a word/phrase for query we may naturally be inclined to pick up “interesting” and “unusual” one that might also have caught Joyce’s eyes, but of course no one can predict another person’s note-taking habit, particularly Joyce’s. And yet, this is the only way we can go forward, and Robbert-Jan has proved to be an ingenious match finder, or Master of Conjectural Reconstruction, as I call him. It is a pity that the next step, checking of the chronological relevance of conjectural reconstruction candidates, had to mercilessly kill not a few of Robbert-Jan’s exciting suggestions, but there still remain a number of appealing candidates after the screening. A third step is checking the candidates against the “Abstract of Draft Usage,” which is not available for a start, so it must be built up on less solid grounds than those of extant notebooks, and it can never be complete because we have no information about the colour of deletion. For the nonce, we have created a draft level chart for the candidates, and (after excluding the anachronistic ones) found that the draft section level III:3A.8 enjoys a conspicuous number of draft usage claimants. (See the Excel chart cited above in Part 2.)

Finally comes the dossier-level screening, for ideal completion of which we need all “Abstracts” for all notebooks. Because we don’t have them, we must declare our analysis is suspended here, waiting for further issues of the Brepols notebook editions (currently suspended), or for any other form of substantial data feed.

Or, alternatively we may still keep going by provisionally building a set of channels or modules for a prospective digital archive to make the most of the data available just now. First each notebook should be digitised with proper XML markups, so that it can automatically generate the “Abstract,” always based on a most recently updated data. The same is true for the manuscript data. If all the additions are marked up as such in a given draft level document, and if all the differences (excluding the additions) from the previous draft level are made identifiable, and if all these additions and differences are properly indexed and, if available, linked with established (for sure or with a degree of uncertainty) notebook parents, we can hope to do the screening job in a more economical way. Currently, I can provide the additions and difference data output, using a couple of Perl scripts written for these particular purposes. When the level 7 and level 8 manuscripts of III:3A are compared, virtually all the difference turns out to be insignificant, while the additions made as insertions and revisions in the level 8 manuscript are many, including all those claimed as locations of usage by Robbert-Jan’s conjecturally reconstructed virtual units. As of the time of this writing, all I can verify, using another Perl script to find the parent notebook unit of a given addition or difference, is that as far as the notebooks already published in the Brepols editions (plus a few more I happen to have in my personal database) are concerned, none of the candidates find a more legitimate claimant for their places in III:3A.8. For the rough output of the last mentioned script, see the last part of Part 2.


As this note makes clear, the greatest impediment to the work of conjectural reconstruction is the shortage of data input, not of the lost notebook but of the extant notebooks and manuscripts. It is yet uncertain when the big bang of genetic Finnegans Wage studies blesses us with a free (or paid) flow of data, but whenever it comes, we should be prepared well in advance with a proper methodology for data-storage and data-processing, if we do not want to be a facetiously impressed but essentially bewildered user/consumer (in face) of the flood of data.

I also hope to have adumbrated how, while in paper media a “lost” notebook may either be unprinted or printed in a tentatively reconstructed form just for once (as Rose and O’Hanlon did), in digital media the potential significance the absence (a lost document) has in relation to the presence (extant documents) can be and should be presented in such a dynamic way that the absence and the presence always keep elucidating each other, to make the archive ever progressively self-corrective and self-revisionary.

For my own real archive, I will be adding more modules (and data) and hope to come up with an update report later this year.

Appendix. How Joyce expanded his Night Lessons with the D1 notes in C2

VI.C2.133(e) o‘Mars speaking
Quo Vadimus, 89-90: If Mars, millions of years older than ourselves, has arrived at such a stage of advancement that it can think of transcending its | own boundaries, it may make some attempt at communication, but the attempt might take the form which to us would be quite unrecognizable. Some observers thought that the persistent thunderstorms and magnetic disturbances experienced during the last opposition over wide areas were signs of such an attempt, but the coincidence may have been quite accidental.
MS 47478-186, LMA: Mars speaking | JJA 52:88 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 263.L1

VI.C2.134(a) oskin of beast / at tomb
Tantalus, 8: I determined, however, to confirm this intelligent forecast by consulting Tantalus himself. To consult the oracle of a dead hero, it was, I knew, only necessary to undergo the process of ‘incubation,’ a sort of camping out on his tomb, in the skin of a sacrificial beast; and fortunately the tomb of Tantalus had just been discovered in Phrygia by the archaeologists of the British School at Athens.
MS 47478-186 ILA: to the outwalls ^+, beastskin trophies,+^ of booth of Baws the balsamboards? | JJA 52:88 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 262.24-25

VI.C2.135(a) o$E blowing about what he did
Tantalus, 36: Consequently, modern man has no right to ‘boast himself far better than his fathers’—in intrinsic quality. Intrinsically, i.e. apart from the effects of culture and social training, it is probable that he is slightly inferior in capacity to his own ancestors, while very markedly inferior to the great races of antiquity (like the Greeks) in their hey-day.
MS 47478-199, IMA: ^+skittering laubhing at that wheeze of old windbag, Blusterboss, blowing ^blowharding^ about all he didn’t do+^ | JJA 52:101 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 273.22-24

VI.C2.136(a) oI’m blest if / I can see
MS 47478-198, BMA: 3) I’m blest if I can see. | JJA 52:100 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 273.F2

VI.C2.136(a) ohe ‘dates’
MS 47478-200, BMA: west eleventh streak ^+3)+^ ^+3) It dates.+^ | JJA 52:102 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | #FW 274.F4# [TD]

VI.C2.138(b) openny babies
MS 47478-199, BMA: 3) Who’ll buy me penny babies? | JJA 52:101 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 273.F5

VI.C2.139(b) oprussic blue
Callinicus, 75: And, though I have seen a good many scientific experiments on animals, I have never seen one which, so far as concerns the pain given, I should object to having performed on myself. That this attitude is not unusual would appear from the following experiment described by the director of the Porton experimental ground, in which he wished to compare the effects of hydrocyanic (or prussic) acid gas on himself and a dog.
MS 47478-202, ILA: toobally ^+prussic+^ blue | JJA 53:283 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§9.5 | FW 305.14-15

VI.C2.141(b) othe parent / offers sweetmeat
The Passing of the Phantoms, 24-5: Let us now examine the same faculties, viz. sorrow and joy under different conditions, and see how the Brain machinery is called forth into action. The child trips over the door-mat and falls in its eagerness to reach the sweetmeat held up in the parent’s hand at the other end of the room.
MS 47478-203, ILA/RMA: Heavysciugardaddy ^+parent who offers sweetmeats,+^ will offer ^+gift+^ | JJA 53:284 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§9.5 | FW 306.03-04

VI.C2.142(j) oman appendiceo / to penis
MS 47478-194, ILA: so many ^+, be he a solicitor’s appendix, a pipe clerk or a free functionist flyswatter, that perfect little cad,+^ from the languors | JJA 52:96 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 272.05-08

VI.C2.144(k) owildbeast >>
Not found in MS/FW.
Note: JJA omits to recognize this note as o-deleted.

VI.C2.145(a) obefore dinn.o / tame after
The Passing of the Phantoms, 63: From its leisured flight I am satisfied that the Hawk enjoys the sport and audacity of his minor companions, any one of which he can so easily pick up after a short pursuit when hunger calls his destroying instincts into action.
The Passing of the Phantoms, 64: Birds are often not the least alarmed and seem to have some intuitive knowledge when a cat is not hungry. I have seen them remain quite close to a cat which was in a caressing mood, though naturally they will, and wisely, refuse to be actually caressed by feline talons, lest mistakes might arise!
MS 47478-194, RMA: 4) And after dinn to shoot the shades | JJA 52:88 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 262.F5

VI.C2.145(a) ofly swatter
MS 47478-194, ILA: so many ^+, be he a solicitor’s appendix, a pipe clerk or a free functionist flyswatter, that perfect little cad,^+ from the languors | JJA 52:96 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 272.05-08

VI.C2.148(l) oI trust I may be pardoned
The Passing of the Phantoms, 71-2: To return to consider the faculty of Imagination. I have made reference to this in the case of the Dog, and perhaps may be pardoned if I briefly do so again, as at this juncture such a | reference will help us to lead up to what directly follows regarding the origin of the conception of the Supernatural.
MS 47478-195, BMA: ^+3) Dear and ^+I trust ^+in all frivolity+^ I may be pardoned for trespassing+^ I think I may add hell.+^ | JJA 52:97 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 270.F3

VI.C2.149(l) o^+a+^ / perfect little cad
MS 47478-194, ILA: so many ^+, be he a solicitor’s appendix, a pipe clerk or a free functionist flyswatter, that perfect little cad,+^ from the languors | JJA 52:96 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 272.05-08

VI.C2.153(c) o$[ trespassed
Narcissus, 12: It [psychology] has learnt to suspect, when people hurry over an incident in their recollection or think, because it was so trifling, that it slipped their memory that through the small orderly commonsense reclaimed garden of the mind has passed a trespasser from the hinterland.
MS 47478-195, BMA: ^+3) Dear and ^+I trust ^+in all frivolity+^ I may be pardoned for trespassing+^ I think I may add hell.+^ | JJA 52:97 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 270.F3

VI.C2.154(d) python / bought in / ofrivolityo
MS 47478-195, BMA: ^+3) Dear and ^+I trust ^+in all frivolity+^ I may be pardoned for trespassing+^ I think I may add hell.+^ | JJA 52:97 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 270.F3

VI.C2.158(b) oMinoan
Narcissus, 44: But with the rise of the Minoan culture we enter a world of vigorous fashion.
MS 47478-197, ILA: hot off ^+minowaurs and+^ naval actiums | JJA 52:99 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 272.10-11.

VI.C2.158(e) oSir John Haigtas / invents WCo / (asimoan)
Narcissus, 54: Crete, we learn, discovered the flush system of drainage. We may smile, but the Romans boasted the crude immensity of their cloaca maxima, and the importance of sanitary science, especially to a people living in such congestion, is hard to over-rate. This, then, was a great invention, fit to rank beside the steam engine, and it was a tragedy, the accumulated pain and discomfort of which can never be computed, that this great secret was lost for millenia, only to be reinvented and then so slowly adopted, in our day. (See page 100).
Narcissus, 100: This was a period when men took regularly to making up their complexions, and with a sharpened perception (which drove that typical Elizabethan, Sir John Harrington, with his almost Minoan figure, to reinvent the Minoan’s masterpiece, the water-closet), eveidently attaining a keener sense of surfaces, they decided that if they could not shave clean, as they evidently could not, if one may judge by Holbein’s careful painting, they had better trim, starch, and iron their beards and moustaches.
MS 47478-190, ILA: barrabelowther, ^+, past Morningtop’s necessity and Harrington’s invention,+^ | JJA 52:92 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 266.10-12

VI.C2.158(h) oElk $E
Narcissus, 60: One stage further back we come across the giant antlerage of the Irisk [sic] Elk and the tail of the Japanese cock, both secondary sexual characteristics of such exuberance as to endanger the survival of the animal on which they have grown.
Not found in MS/FW.

VI.C2.158(k) oputtydouto
Narcissus, 61: There is not room here to trace fully the strange progress from the hermaphroditic archaisms, through the somewhat too animal athleticism of Polycleitos to the Farnese Hercules. As art goes toward Rome, the age of beauty is advanced. Greece itself showed progressive signs of infantilism, turning from the intermediate sex to sexless youth, and finally to an inane exuberance of prize babies, the first froth of putti-cherub senile sentiment. The work of this amazing people at the height of their power reveals an obsession with the idea of youth which is already morbid. MS 47478-193, ILS: whatever plaudered perfect ^+anent prettydotes & haec [genua omnibus]+^ | JJA 52:95 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 268.04-05

VI.C2.159(d) o$E mufti / toga
Narcissus, 68-9: The same sterilising standard affected Roman costume: it developed, as it was bound to do, as military and official dress. The Greek could only advise “Take off your clothes and be nice and natural.” The Roman had no objection to watching a Greek exhibit himself, but he remained wrapped in his toga. The Greek, as Juvenal remarked, could turn himself into anything, changing even his sex, but the Roman felt he was a more stable type and was proud of his inadaptability. The toga does evolve a little: it becomes |‘contabulated,’ it is true, but too soon it was the garment for official receptions—indeed many provincials only wore it at funerals. When something more active was required, you could always get into military dress. Augustus adopted that as his ordinary costume. A military court always feels that it is rather bad taste to be seen about in mufti.
?MS 47478-158: but plain Mr Tumulty in muftilife | JJA 52:55 | 1934 | II.2§1.*5 | FW 261.19
Note: This would be the only instance of a VI.C2 note being worked into the fair copy preceding the typescript in which all other mosaic additions from this Notebook were laid. Both words and the sign were crossed out in one stroke, but no toga is found at this level.

VI.C2.161(g) ogym (naked) >
MS 47478-196, BMA: Understudy my understandings, Sostituta, and meek thine complement. Gymnufleshed. | JJA 52:98 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 271.F4

VI.C2.161(h) obodylove
Narcissus, 86-7: Nature had already given man such legs that the Psalmist had definitely, as a true Semite, to declare that their Maker did not delight in them. The tailor could only unveil as on him worked the imitative passion to translate in terms of his own art the invention of the architect. Tights sweep clean up to the apex, round the athletic arch of the thighs, to the trunk borne like a tower above the cross- | ing. The tunic, to display this, the final organic architecture, shrinks into the jupon, a body-glove, and the build of man, though his flesh be covered to his palms and chin, is more visible to every eye than ever since the closing of the Gymnasium.
MS 47478-196, ILA: So long as beautylife is bodylove and | JJA 52:98 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 271.09

VI.C2.161(i) oChaperon
Narcissus, 90: So, under steadily flattening vaults, shallower mouldings—this is the period of the caveto—sparser, more mechanical ornament—witness the square and the “Tudor” foliage—through windows of stiffened mullions and, by order of the specialised glazier, ever more inorganic design, man may be seen inventing this fantastic hat, the “Chaperon,” whose fashionable points were remnants of its past uses, and to match it a gown, the houpelande, to accentuate his figure.
MS 47478-193, RMS: but even the aoriest chap ^+chaparound+^ | JJA 52:95 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 268.04-05

VI.C2.161(m) oin undress
Narcissus, 104: The Puritan interposition is purely negative. It cut off, and for the rest it was in costume (it had hardly time to affect the slower styles) the undress of a regular soldier.
MS 47478-186, ILA: And Major K. Shaw ^+in undress+^ after he got the ^+miner+^ smellpax ^+smellpex+^? | JJA 52:88 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | #FW 263.07-08#

VI.C2.162(h) oCivvy
Narcissus, 118: Meanwhile our clothes, ordinary civvies, are still with us; and as all the conventional arts save this one have vanished, it remains with the unique anthropological interest which belonged to the Tasmanian.
MS 47478-320v: To obedient of civicity in urbanious at felicity | JJA 52:214 | 1934 | II.2§5.0 | FW 277.07-08

VI.C2.164(a) o$[ King becomes / church’s servant
MS 47478-320: keep his peace who follow his law, Sunday King | JJA 52:213 | 1934 | II.2§5.0 | FW 276.26-277.01

VI.C2.164(b) ogave a most / ungodly show /
MS 47478-184, RMA: ^+Ungodly old Ardrey Cronwall beeswaxing the convulsion box.+^ | JJA 52:86 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 261.L3

VI.C2.164(c) oFamily Hold Back
MS 47478-198, RMA: ^+Femmilies, hug bank!+^ | JJA 52:100 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 273.L2

VI.C2.164(i) opuny war
MS 47478-196, ILA: One hath just been areading, hath not one, in their memoiries ^+of Hireling’s puny wars+^ | JJA 52:98 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 270.30-31

VI.C2.167(f) oplay A.K. Divorce
MS 47478-183, BMA: ^+Real life behind the floodlights as shown ^+by the best exponents+^ of a royal divorce+^ | JJA 52:85 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 260.F3

VI.C2.171(i) oI shd like to / shake hams
Connacht Tribune 30 May 1925-5/4: Something like a Bag! / [Arrows from four corners emphasise a photo from behind of a cow with a distended udder ] / and when it goes wrong don’t use a drench that purges and spoils the milk—don’t waste time bathing or anointing but drench promptly with / CATALINE / according to directions and the result will be / BAG REDUCED to NORMAL / AND MILK FIT FOR USE! / WHO SAYS SO? READ THE FOLLOWING / Tom Hill, Tubberneing, Gorey, writes: “Last June I had a cow with a TERRIBLY SWOLLEN BAG, quite twice normal size. I gave her three drenches of CATALINE (she was al­most dry); the milk came back to her usual quantity, and is as good a cow as ever.—That's CATALINE! / “P.S.—I should like to shake hands with the clever inventor. I milk 80 Cows.” [. . .]
MS 47478-201, BMA: bilks the best ^+3) Shake hams, as people sing;+^ | JJA 53:282 | March 1935 | II.2§9.5 | #FW 305.fn#

VI.C2.172(j) obeaverboard >
MS 47478-183, BMA: I’d do nine months for him ^+his beaverbeard+^. | JJA 52:85 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 260.F1

VI.C2.173(a) olease lapseso / on death / of duke of Clana >
MS 47478-189, ILA: by ribbon development, ^+from contact bridge to lease lapse,+^ | JJA 52:91 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 265.24-25

VI.C2.173(b) oTerra Firmao / Cotta
MS 47478-184, BMA: Co Mahogany, Izulond. ^+Izalond+^ ^+, Terra Firma+^. | JJA 52:86 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 261.F2
Connacht Tribune 16 May 1925-7/5: Cuckoo Legislation.

Sir,—The “Deserted Village” tells us of—

                          “A bold peasantry, it’s country's pride,

                            When once destroyed, can never be supplied.”

That’s poetry, but the swain dragged up on the heath (heathens) were never half as chivalrous, as tractable, as noble or as kind as those cultured in urban environment—not by a jugful! The refined classes of the towns, particularly those with small hereditary interests, who are really, from a standpoint of culture and decency, the greatest jewel of any country, are the ones who have suffered the greatest abuse and inconsideration in recent years.

Now, the land of an urban district is as much the land of Ireland and its people, Irishmen, too, as the land of any rustic district and a thousand times more intensely reclaimed by valuable buildings, etc., than that which bears a casual, portable crop of oats or hay. Under the Land Act of 1881 the half-yearly rustic tenant who has built a few dry walls with a bush for a gate is given security of tenure, while the 62-year or 99-year urban tenant, who, or his father, has spent his life in enhancing the value of his bit of land by valuable, permanent construction, is denied any security of tenure at all and even debarred from removing his crop (property) at the expiry of his term. If he or his father built a house, he must yield it up on the termination of a despotic lease, and no argument, while his half-yearly sub-tenant (cuckoo), who never drove a nail in it, is protected.

Every schoolboy knows that a cuckoo never built a nest, but squats in the nest of some other bird that is foolish enough to foster its young for it. If a man has a little rent (dividend) out of a house, he is not necessarily a landlord. In nine cases out of ten he is simply a land-tenant who pays yearly for his plot. Shelter was always supplied, rather over-supplied, by private enterprise, but these recent penal lays have discouraged such enterprise to such an extent that the Government must now coax investors by means of subsidy, etc., to provide shelter for their own selves.

Houses, as well as every other commodity (including labour, rooms, etc.), have increased in value, and it is unfair to single them out as the only one article to be exempted from the law of supply and demand. It is amazing the short leases upon which houses were formerly built--and no tin-pot building either—like the would-be architects we see in Salthill to-day with the door up on the top of a stick. Michael Angelo or Sir Christopher Wren are only in the shade of the old apple tree.

Those old houses had no coloured paper slates like the new houses in Claddagh nor had they fake beaver-boards, sound-conducting walls to substitute a thing called plaster. A house is a jewel. If it is good, it is always worth its own money. If fake, it is unpledgeable—a dead loss. Some of those short leases to which I refer were even on lives. My mother's lease lapsed on the death of the Duke of Clarence and King Edward VII.

When Parnell in his Land Act of 1881 gained security for the land (ground) tenants of Ireland it was, indeed, rather unfair to differentiate against the ground tenants of the little towns who through their greater intelligence and sympathy stuck to him through thick and thin and never reneagued [sic] hint even when he was down the glen. When ingratitude barbs the dart of injury the wound has a double effect.

It would only be common justice to protect the townsmen of Ireland who permanently developed their little bits of the Terra Firma of their country as well as the ranchers who only temporarily developed theirs, at least to extend their leases in perpetuity or, better still, a right to purchase at a generous price, particularly when no State assistance is sought—the right to enjoy the product of their parent's brain, brawn and sweat which in many cases impregnates the railroad sleepers of American, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and who spent their last shilling in building Ireland.

A man’s blood could hardly be called red who would apathetically permit his patrimony to lapse to some covetous (santagh) lord of the land. It is impolitic for any wise Government by expensive legislation to invite construction and at the same time, by lack of inexpensive and consistent legislation, hesitate to extend the lauv (hand) to the children of the pioneers who often nearly beggared themselves in building up their country, when subsidies were unthought of, and to refuse to hear their voice calling in the wilderness.

NED O’ THE HILL. / May Day, 1925.

VI.C2.173(d) omerger
MS 47478-152, BMA: Old Kane ^+wortsampler, hellbeit you’re just as culpable as my woolfell merger+^. | JJA 53:268 | March 1935 | II.2§9.3 | FW 305.10-12

VI.C2.174(h) opreeno = $T $E {reversed}
MS 47478-130 [MS missing]: the pleasure each will preen her for | JJA 52:18 | 1934 | II.2§3.2 | FW 268.05-6

VI.C2.175(b) oLongfellow’s Club
MS 47478-184, BMA: ^+Longfellow’s Lodgings, House of Comments+^ Ill Cake Walk | JJA 52:86 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 261.F2

VI.C2.175(i) o$E trumpeted / by prawns
MS 47478-184, ILA: we haply return +^, trumpeted by prawns and ensigned with seakale,+^ | JJA 52:86 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 261.05-07
Note: Possibly a misreading of “trumpeted by fame.” On the other hand, prawns breathe through ‘trumpets’ in the knees.

VI.C2.176(d) oblowhardo / mit - -
MS 47478-199, IMA: ^+skittering laubhing at that wheeze of old windbag, Blusterboss, blowing ^blowharding^ about all he didn’t do+^ | JJA 52:101 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 273.22-24

VI.C2.176(g) oCFd made a city / Newcastle under Lyme
MS 47478-190, TMA: ^+The store and charter, [Treetoncastle] ^Treetowncastle^ under Lynne.+^ | JJA 52:92 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 266.02-03

VI.C2.177(g) otreetown
MS 47478-190, TMA: ^+The store and charter, [Treetoncastle] ^Treetowncastle^ under Lynne.+^ | JJA 52:92 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 266.02-03

VI.C2.180(b) oS.P. ($E group / name
MS 47478-184, BMA: ^+3) Groupname for grapejuice.+^ | JJA 52:86 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 261.F3

VI.C2.194(c) ospeak broken heaventalk
MS 47478-185, ILA: But ^+, to speak broken heaventalk,+^ is he? | JJA 52:87 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 261.27-28

VI.C2.194(e) oto do her any / whim
MS 47478-196, ILA: ^+If you’re not ruined by that one she won’t do you any whim.+^ | JJA 52:98 | late 1934-March 1935 | II.2§1.6/2.4/3.A.6 | FW 271.15-17

VI.C2.194(g) oHe will give / hours
MS 47478-201, BMA: ^+It is hours giving, not more.+^ | JJA 53:282 | March 1935 | II.2§9.5 | FW 305.07-08

VI.C2.195(b) oa must book
MS 47478-201, LMA: ^+So read we in must book. It tells.+^ | JJA 53:282 | March 1935 | II.2§9.5 | FW 304.31-305.01

VI.C2.195(c) oHe tells
MS 47478-201, LMA: ^+So read we in must book. It tells.+^ | JJA 53:282 | March 1935 | II.2§9.5 | FW 304.31-305.01

VI.C2.195(d) oPeople sang
MS 47478-201, BMA: bilks the best ^+3) Shake hams, as people sing;+^ | JJA 53:282 | March 1935 | II.2§9.5 | #FW 305.fn#

VI.C2.196(b) oI am giving [I ga]
Not found in MS/FW.

VI.C2.196(c) oHow and when
Not found in MS/FW.