[Napoleon and Wellington are exchanging in- sults, Napoleon being
represented
through the jinnies.
A-Skeleton-Key-to-Finnegans-Wake
By a commodius vicus of recircula- tion, riverrun will bring us always, ever, and only back to Him.
? ? book i
? THE BOOK OF THE PARENTS ?
Q
? ? chapter i Finnegan's Fall
? [The story of Finnegan, freed from the thematic entanglements of the first four paragraphs, now begins to run in a narrative style comparatively easy to follow. Henceforth a thin line-tracing of the basic story of Finnegans Wake will suffice to guide the reader. It is not our purpose to elucidate fully any page or group of images but to weld together the fundamental links of the narrative itself. Our comments are in brackets and in footnotes; the numbers in parentheses refer to the pages of the Viking Press edition of Finnegans Wake, ? ? ? ? .
[The first twenty-five pages of Joyce's narrative (? -? ? ) deal directly with the subject of the title theme: the fall, the wake, and the portended resur- rection of the prehistoric hod carrier Finnegan. ]
(? ) Primordial Big Master Finnegan, free mason, lived, loved, and la- bored in the broadest way imaginable: piled buildings on the river banks, swilled ale, jigged with his little Annie, and would calculate the altitude of
? ?
? ? A Skeleton Key to Finnegans Wake ? ? Finnegan's Fall ? ?
? the skyscraper erections, (? ) hierarchitectitiptitoploftical,* rising under his hand.
He was of the first to bear arms and a name: Wassaily Booslaeugh of Riesengeborg. His crest, green, showed in silver a he-goat pursuing two maids, and bore an escutcheon with silver sun-emblem and archers at the ready. Its legend: Hohohoho! Hahahaha! Mr. Finn you're going to be Mr. Finn-again! In the morn you're vine, in the eve you're vinegar. Mr. Funn, you're going to be fined again!
What brought about that Thursday-morning tragedy? Our house still rocks to the rumor of it; there is a shabby chorus of those who would blame him; the evidence is difficult to evaluate. --Therefore, stay us (O Sustainer! ) in our search for truth. --It may have been a misfired brick, or perhaps a collapse of back promises; but as sure as Adam bit the apple of Eve, what with the noise of the (? ) traffic below, hod carrier Finnegan, high above, fell tippling full, his hod shook, he stumbled, he was dead. He is now fit for a mastaba-tomb. ?
[We attend the Wake. Twelve dismal citizens, sighing his praises, lay him out:] "MacCool, MacCool, orra why did ye die? " There is a bottle of whisky at his feet, and a barrowload of Guinness's over his head.
[The scene begins to disintegrate. Outlines of the hills show through the lineaments of the wake. ] Hurrah! It is all one and the same: Finnegan's form is that of the landscape. Let us peep at him, prostrate. From Shopalist to Bailywick he calmly extensolies. By the bay winds he is bewailed. (? ) Annie's flutelike trochees wake him. Grace before glutton; Amen. Grampupus is fallen down but grinny sprids the boord. ? Fish, bread, and ale are placed around the bier. But the moment you would quaff off the drink and sink tooth into the food (the communion drink and food of his
? flower-white body), behold, he is smolten in our midst. The Wake scene, like a fadeout, melts away.
Yet, we may still behold the brontoichthyan* form outlined in the contours of the land: a giant hill recumbent by the stream he loved, HCE beside his ALP. [The Wake scene, having withdrawn into the world interior, is now to be thought of as constituting the substratum of all existence. It is the arche- typal Form of all forms. Through the next seventeen pages (? -? ? ) are to be studied various evidences, geographical and historical, of the fallen Finnegan's all suffusing, all-feeding, slumberous presence. Not only the landscape is to be reviewed (? , ? ? , ? ? , ? ? , ? ? ) but typical epochs of human history (? -? ? ), medieval history (? ? -? ? ), prehistory (? ? -? ? ); also, a few frag- ments of folklore (? ? -? ? ); a comical vaudeville song; and the dump heap in our own backyard (? ? ). As the eye regards each, it slightly disintegrates to re-
veal an unmistakable trait or two of the grotesque Finnegan within.
[First, the landscape:]
The head of him can be seen at Ben Howth. His clay feet swarded in
grass, stick up, not far from Chapelizod, where he last fell on them--by the Magazine Wall, where the Maggies seen all, while the three spying soldiers lay in ambush. ? From here a view (? ) may be had of the little Wellington Museum in Phoenix Park, a charming waterloose country round about, and two pretty white villages, like two saucy Maggies themselves, amidst the foliages. Penetrators are permitted into the museum. For her passkey supply to the janitrix, the mistress Kathe. Tip. ?
? ? * Bronte, "thunder"; ichthys, "fish": thunder-fish. The reader will think of the Leviathan, whose flesh, together with the flesh of Behemoth, is the food of those in Paradise; also, the fish symbol of Christ, whose flesh is the food of the faithful.
? Finnegan's fall was on the identical spot where HCE is to become involved in his misad- venture with two girls and three soldiers. On this spot there at present stands a museum dedicated to the memory of Wellington. Wellington is an incarnation of HCE. The three spying soldiers will bear various names in various parts of the text. The names will carry suggestions of one or another of England's imperialistic wars. Wellington, it will be re- membered, served in India before his campaigns against Napoleon; hence a sepoy, Shimar Shin, appears as one of the three soldiers at the conclusion of the present episode. [[Note that there is no actual Wellington Museum in Phoenix Park. --ELE]]
? The repetition through Finnegans Wake of the word "tip" finally turns out to be a dream transformation of the sound of a branch knocking against HCE's window as he sleeps be- side his wife in the upper room. This branch is the finger of Mother Nature, in her des- iccated aspect, bidding for attention.
? ? * This is a good word on which to practice. Note the way in which it combines the words "hierarchy," "architect," "tipsy," and "toplofty," climbing up and up, beyond every ex- pectation, like a skyscraper. In Joyce's text, the phrase "with larrons o'toolers clittering up and tombles a'buckets clottering down" refers to Lawrence O'Toole and Thomas a` Becket, bishops respectively of Dublin and Canterbury in the time of Henry II. The for- mer advanced his personal career, the latter was martyred.
? An Egyptian mummy tomb of stone.
? The key theme of the Wake: in a communion feast the substance of All-Father is served
by All-Mother to the universal company.
? ? A Skeleton Key to Finnegans Wake ? ? Finnegan's Fall ? ?
? Belchum; poor the pay! This is Wellington, brandishing his telescope on the runaway jinnies. A (? ? ) triad of soldiers is observing him; one of them is a Hindu sepoy, Shimar Shin. Suddenly Wellington picks up the half of a hat from the filth and hangs it on the crupper of his big white horse. (The last joke of the Willingdone. ) The crupper wags with the hat to insult the sepoy, who, mad as a hatter, jumps up with a cry. Whereupon, Wellington, a born gentle- man, tenders a matchbox to the cursing Shimar Shin. The do-for-him sepoy blows the whole of the half of the hat off the top of the tail on the back of Wellington's big wide harse. (Bullseye! Game! ) This way out of the museum.
Phew, but that was warm.
[Dense with figures half lost in the dust of war, the turbulent Museum scene amplifies the private sin of HCE into an image of the hero through- out the course of history. Toward the middle of Finnegans Wake (? ? ? -? ? ) an even denser, dustier episode, namely, that of the Russian General at Sevastopol, will culminate the development of this blood-and-tears theme. In the wild heat of battle, life discloses its most shameful secret--i. e. , HCE's sin in the Park.
[We turn from the museum to the countryside, now a silent field after battle. Round about are twelve pilfering little birds, metamorphosed dupli- cates of the citizens at the Wake. The janitrix herself, in a bird transforma- tion, moves through the twilight, gathering relics (as widowed Isis gathered the scattered fragments of her dismembered husband, Osiris). ]
(? ? ) We know where she lives; it's a candle-little house of a month and one windies. * The vagrant wind's awaltz around the piltdowns and on every blasted knollyrock there's a gnarlybird ygathering. Old Lumproar is lying under his seven red shields;? our pigeon pair has flown; (? ? ) the three
? [This Museum should be regarded as a kind of reliquary containing var- ious mementoes symbolizing not only the eternal brother-conflict, but also the military and diplomatic encounters, exchanges and betrayals of recorded history. ] An old woman conducts a party through the museum, pointing out relics from the battle career of her hero Wellington, the Iron Duke. There are exhibits under glass and pictures on the walls. A flag, a bullet, a military hat; Duke Wellington on his big white horse; three soldiers crouch- ing in a ditch; a pair of Napoleon's jinnies,* making believe to read a book of strategy; and a sex-caliber telescope through which the Duke trains on the flanks of the jinnies. The reader begins to recognize through all the shooting-gallery noises and the smoke-confused scenes of battle the om- nipresent story of a great man, two temptresses, and three soldiers. ? Be- tween the Duke and the jinnies dispatches go back and forth. This (? ) is me, Belchum, bearer of the dispatches. ? First, a dispatch from the jinnies to annoy the Willingdone: "Behold thy tiny frau, hugacting. Signed: Nap. " This is me, Belchum, carrying the dispatch. And this is Wellington's an- swer, displayed on the regions rare of me, Belchum: "Figtreeyou! Damn fairy Ann--c? a ne fait rien. Vo^tre: Willingdone. " (That was the first joke of Wellington. Tit for tat. ) This is me, Belchum, in his twelve-league boots, footing it back to the jinnies.
[Napoleon and Wellington are exchanging in- sults, Napoleon being represented through the jinnies. ]
Here now are some more exhibits: Balls, cannon fodder, other views of the jinnies, the soldiers, and the Willingdone. The Wellington cry is "Brum! Brum! Cumbrum! " The jinnies' cry is "Donnerwetter! Gott strafe England! " To the tune of "It's a long way to Tipperary," the jinnies run away. This is me,
? ? * This word refers both to a couple of young mares on the battlefield, and to a pair of Napoleonic filles du re? giment. These polymorphous beings correspond to the two temptresses of the Park episode.
? This is a reflex, of course, of the story of HCE, whose fall is to be but a variant of the fall of Finnegan. The fire water which intoxicated the ancient giant, and the two urinating girls who intoxicate HCE, are variant-aspects of the one eternal river-woman ALP.
? This entire passage is full of obscure references to England's many wars and must be re- garded as an adumbration of the Empire theme. The characters are fluid and only half emergent, but constantly suggest Wellington, Napoleon, Blu? cher, and other personages of the battle of Waterloo. "Belchum" carries overtones of "Belgium," the country in which Waterloo is situated.
? ? * A month and one windies: ? ? -plus-? windy windows. The ? is the leap-year girl Iseult, ? ? the number of her little girl companions. These represent the younger, Kate the older, manifestations of ALP. Where the one is apparent, the other is implicit. There would be no fragments lying about for old Kate to collect and cherish, had there been no seduction to precipitate a fall.
? In the text is a pun on the Rothschilds. Was it Byron who said that not Wellington but the House of Rothschild defeated Napoleon? The seven superimposed shields carry the suggestion, also, of the seven "sheaths" (physical, astral, mental, buddhic, nirva? ? ic, anupa? - dakic, and a? dic) which, according to the occultists, clothe the essence of the soul.
? ? A Skeleton Key to Finnegans Wake ? ? Finnegan's Fall ? ?
? crows have flapped away. She never comes out when the thunder is roar- ing, she is too moochy afreet; but tonight is armistice; here she comes: a peace-bird, picking here, picking there. All spoiled goods go into her nab- sack: with a kiss, a kiss cross, cross criss, unto life's end. Amen.
In this way she serves the future: stealing our historic presents from the postprophetical past, so as to will to make us all lordly heirs and lady mis- tresses of a pretty nice kettle of fruit. Greeks may rise and Trojans fall, (? ? ) young heroines come and go, but she remembers her nightly duty: she'll puff the blaziness on. Though Humpty Dumpty fall frumpty times, there'll be eggs for the croaking company that has come to wake him.
[This fragment-gathering crone is identical with old grinny who spreads the feast after the Fall (? ). The shell fragments of Humpty lie scat- tered about, but she gathers what she can of the old fellow's substance, which she will serve to the generations of the future, to sustain them and carry them forward. ]
Let us, meanwhile, regard the two mounds and all the little himples, these hillocks, which are like so many boys and girls of a smaller generation sit- ting around playing games, Bridget with Patrick, on his chest--his very presence urging them to love. They are hopping around his middle like kippers on a griddle as he lies dormant. And nearby is the Magazine Wall. [An echo is heard of Dean Jonathan Swift's verse on the futility of this mil- itary structure in a land picked bare by English masters:]
Behold a (? ? ) proof of Irish sense! Here Irish wit is seen!
Where nothing's left that's worth defence, They build a magazine.
So this is Dublin.
Hush! Caution! Echoland! [The initials, HCE. ]
How charmingly exquisite! It reminds you of the outwashed engravure
that we used to be drunkenly studying on the blotchwall of his innkempt house. * Look and you will see him. Listen and you will hear the music and
? laughter of the company, but the Magazine Wall--fimfim fimfim--with a grand funferall--fumfum fumfum. * The scene comes to us converted into sound by an optophone. ? List to the magic lyre. They of the Wake will be tussling forever to the discord of the ollave's harp. ?
Turn now to this ancient book, the Blue Book of our local Herodotus, Mammon Lujius. ** "Four things," it says, "f. t. in Dublin ne'er shall fail,? ? till heathersmoke and cloudweed Eire's isle shall pall. " And these four Dublin eternals are: (? ) a hump on an old man [HCE], (? ) a shoe on a poor old woman [ALP], (? ) a maid to be deserted [their daughter Iseult], (? ) a pen no mightier than a post [their twin sons, Shem the Penman, Shaun the Post].
The traits of the archetypal figures emerge through every page of the chronicle, as the winds idly turn the pages and we read the entries for var- ious years:
? ? ? ? a. d. Men like ants did wander upon the hump of an old whale stranded in a runnel. Blubber for Dublin.
? ? ? a. d. A crone (? ? ) discovered her basket to be full of little shoes. Blurry works at Dublin.
? ? * I. e. , regard this landscape and you will discern through it symptoms of the Wake, still in progress. "Fimfim," etc. , is the jollification motif. Through many transmutations it will recur. It is the sound of a dry leaf "sinsinning" in the winter wind.
? An optophone is an instrument that converts images into sounds.
? An ollave is an Irish bard.
** The Blue Book of our local Herodotus, Mammon Lujius, is finally the dream guidebook,
history book, Finnegans Wake itself. It is here regarded as any ancient tome that might be at hand. "Blue Book" suggests the well-known "Blue Guide" series of travel books. The name "Herodotus" is modified in the text to the "herodotary" ("doting on heroes"). Mammon Lujius is a name based on the initials M. M. L. J. of Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John, the four Evangelists whose gospels are the history book of the Living Word. The four Evangelists coalesce with four Irish annalists, whose chronicle of ancient times is known as The Book of the Four Masters. These four again coalesce with four old men, fa- miliars to the tavern of HCE, who forever sit around fatuously rechewing tales of the good old days. These four guardians of ancient tradition are identical with the four "World Guardians" (Lokapa? las) of the Tibetan Buddhistic mandalas, who protect the four corners of the world--these being finally identical with the four caryatids, giants, dwarfs, or elephants, which hold up the four corners of the heavens.
? ? f. t. : four things. Abbreviation by initialing occurs frequently in the medieval Irish chronicles.
? ? * I. e. , the scene reminds us of a certain picture that used to hang in the tavern of HCE (used to hang, that is to say, in the long ago of a former cycle).
? ? A Skeleton Key to Finnegans Wake ? ? Finnegan's Fall ? ?
? (Silent)
? ? ? a. d. A damsel grieved because her doll was ravished of her by an
ogre. Bloody wars in Dublin.
? ? ? ? a. d. * Twin sons were born, Caddy and Primas, to a good-man and
his hag. Primas became a sentryman. Caddy got drunk and wrote a farce. Blotty words for Dublin.
[The actual historical events associated with the dates ? ? ? ? a. d. and ? ? ? a. d. are of minor moment. Clearly more important than any specific events are the relationships to each other of the numbers themselves.
[Every reader of Ulysses will recall the "thirty-two feet per second, per second. Law of falling bodies," which ran through Bloom's thoughts of the entire day. The number is now to run through the entire night of Finnegans Wake, usually in combination with eleven, the number of restart after finish. ? (The old decade having run out with ten, eleven initiates the new. See our discussion of the Kabbalistic decade for Bk. II, chap. ? . ) In the present instance the two numbers combine to form a date. This date halved yields another date, ? ? ? ; there follows a mysterious "Silent" (a world- destroying cataclysm) whereafter the dates appear again, but in inverted se- quence--the new world being a kind of Alice-through-the-looking-glass reflection of the old.
[If we add the four dates we arrive at the figure ?
? ? book i
? THE BOOK OF THE PARENTS ?
Q
? ? chapter i Finnegan's Fall
? [The story of Finnegan, freed from the thematic entanglements of the first four paragraphs, now begins to run in a narrative style comparatively easy to follow. Henceforth a thin line-tracing of the basic story of Finnegans Wake will suffice to guide the reader. It is not our purpose to elucidate fully any page or group of images but to weld together the fundamental links of the narrative itself. Our comments are in brackets and in footnotes; the numbers in parentheses refer to the pages of the Viking Press edition of Finnegans Wake, ? ? ? ? .
[The first twenty-five pages of Joyce's narrative (? -? ? ) deal directly with the subject of the title theme: the fall, the wake, and the portended resur- rection of the prehistoric hod carrier Finnegan. ]
(? ) Primordial Big Master Finnegan, free mason, lived, loved, and la- bored in the broadest way imaginable: piled buildings on the river banks, swilled ale, jigged with his little Annie, and would calculate the altitude of
? ?
? ? A Skeleton Key to Finnegans Wake ? ? Finnegan's Fall ? ?
? the skyscraper erections, (? ) hierarchitectitiptitoploftical,* rising under his hand.
He was of the first to bear arms and a name: Wassaily Booslaeugh of Riesengeborg. His crest, green, showed in silver a he-goat pursuing two maids, and bore an escutcheon with silver sun-emblem and archers at the ready. Its legend: Hohohoho! Hahahaha! Mr. Finn you're going to be Mr. Finn-again! In the morn you're vine, in the eve you're vinegar. Mr. Funn, you're going to be fined again!
What brought about that Thursday-morning tragedy? Our house still rocks to the rumor of it; there is a shabby chorus of those who would blame him; the evidence is difficult to evaluate. --Therefore, stay us (O Sustainer! ) in our search for truth. --It may have been a misfired brick, or perhaps a collapse of back promises; but as sure as Adam bit the apple of Eve, what with the noise of the (? ) traffic below, hod carrier Finnegan, high above, fell tippling full, his hod shook, he stumbled, he was dead. He is now fit for a mastaba-tomb. ?
[We attend the Wake. Twelve dismal citizens, sighing his praises, lay him out:] "MacCool, MacCool, orra why did ye die? " There is a bottle of whisky at his feet, and a barrowload of Guinness's over his head.
[The scene begins to disintegrate. Outlines of the hills show through the lineaments of the wake. ] Hurrah! It is all one and the same: Finnegan's form is that of the landscape. Let us peep at him, prostrate. From Shopalist to Bailywick he calmly extensolies. By the bay winds he is bewailed. (? ) Annie's flutelike trochees wake him. Grace before glutton; Amen. Grampupus is fallen down but grinny sprids the boord. ? Fish, bread, and ale are placed around the bier. But the moment you would quaff off the drink and sink tooth into the food (the communion drink and food of his
? flower-white body), behold, he is smolten in our midst. The Wake scene, like a fadeout, melts away.
Yet, we may still behold the brontoichthyan* form outlined in the contours of the land: a giant hill recumbent by the stream he loved, HCE beside his ALP. [The Wake scene, having withdrawn into the world interior, is now to be thought of as constituting the substratum of all existence. It is the arche- typal Form of all forms. Through the next seventeen pages (? -? ? ) are to be studied various evidences, geographical and historical, of the fallen Finnegan's all suffusing, all-feeding, slumberous presence. Not only the landscape is to be reviewed (? , ? ? , ? ? , ? ? , ? ? ) but typical epochs of human history (? -? ? ), medieval history (? ? -? ? ), prehistory (? ? -? ? ); also, a few frag- ments of folklore (? ? -? ? ); a comical vaudeville song; and the dump heap in our own backyard (? ? ). As the eye regards each, it slightly disintegrates to re-
veal an unmistakable trait or two of the grotesque Finnegan within.
[First, the landscape:]
The head of him can be seen at Ben Howth. His clay feet swarded in
grass, stick up, not far from Chapelizod, where he last fell on them--by the Magazine Wall, where the Maggies seen all, while the three spying soldiers lay in ambush. ? From here a view (? ) may be had of the little Wellington Museum in Phoenix Park, a charming waterloose country round about, and two pretty white villages, like two saucy Maggies themselves, amidst the foliages. Penetrators are permitted into the museum. For her passkey supply to the janitrix, the mistress Kathe. Tip. ?
? ? * Bronte, "thunder"; ichthys, "fish": thunder-fish. The reader will think of the Leviathan, whose flesh, together with the flesh of Behemoth, is the food of those in Paradise; also, the fish symbol of Christ, whose flesh is the food of the faithful.
? Finnegan's fall was on the identical spot where HCE is to become involved in his misad- venture with two girls and three soldiers. On this spot there at present stands a museum dedicated to the memory of Wellington. Wellington is an incarnation of HCE. The three spying soldiers will bear various names in various parts of the text. The names will carry suggestions of one or another of England's imperialistic wars. Wellington, it will be re- membered, served in India before his campaigns against Napoleon; hence a sepoy, Shimar Shin, appears as one of the three soldiers at the conclusion of the present episode. [[Note that there is no actual Wellington Museum in Phoenix Park. --ELE]]
? The repetition through Finnegans Wake of the word "tip" finally turns out to be a dream transformation of the sound of a branch knocking against HCE's window as he sleeps be- side his wife in the upper room. This branch is the finger of Mother Nature, in her des- iccated aspect, bidding for attention.
? ? * This is a good word on which to practice. Note the way in which it combines the words "hierarchy," "architect," "tipsy," and "toplofty," climbing up and up, beyond every ex- pectation, like a skyscraper. In Joyce's text, the phrase "with larrons o'toolers clittering up and tombles a'buckets clottering down" refers to Lawrence O'Toole and Thomas a` Becket, bishops respectively of Dublin and Canterbury in the time of Henry II. The for- mer advanced his personal career, the latter was martyred.
? An Egyptian mummy tomb of stone.
? The key theme of the Wake: in a communion feast the substance of All-Father is served
by All-Mother to the universal company.
? ? A Skeleton Key to Finnegans Wake ? ? Finnegan's Fall ? ?
? Belchum; poor the pay! This is Wellington, brandishing his telescope on the runaway jinnies. A (? ? ) triad of soldiers is observing him; one of them is a Hindu sepoy, Shimar Shin. Suddenly Wellington picks up the half of a hat from the filth and hangs it on the crupper of his big white horse. (The last joke of the Willingdone. ) The crupper wags with the hat to insult the sepoy, who, mad as a hatter, jumps up with a cry. Whereupon, Wellington, a born gentle- man, tenders a matchbox to the cursing Shimar Shin. The do-for-him sepoy blows the whole of the half of the hat off the top of the tail on the back of Wellington's big wide harse. (Bullseye! Game! ) This way out of the museum.
Phew, but that was warm.
[Dense with figures half lost in the dust of war, the turbulent Museum scene amplifies the private sin of HCE into an image of the hero through- out the course of history. Toward the middle of Finnegans Wake (? ? ? -? ? ) an even denser, dustier episode, namely, that of the Russian General at Sevastopol, will culminate the development of this blood-and-tears theme. In the wild heat of battle, life discloses its most shameful secret--i. e. , HCE's sin in the Park.
[We turn from the museum to the countryside, now a silent field after battle. Round about are twelve pilfering little birds, metamorphosed dupli- cates of the citizens at the Wake. The janitrix herself, in a bird transforma- tion, moves through the twilight, gathering relics (as widowed Isis gathered the scattered fragments of her dismembered husband, Osiris). ]
(? ? ) We know where she lives; it's a candle-little house of a month and one windies. * The vagrant wind's awaltz around the piltdowns and on every blasted knollyrock there's a gnarlybird ygathering. Old Lumproar is lying under his seven red shields;? our pigeon pair has flown; (? ? ) the three
? [This Museum should be regarded as a kind of reliquary containing var- ious mementoes symbolizing not only the eternal brother-conflict, but also the military and diplomatic encounters, exchanges and betrayals of recorded history. ] An old woman conducts a party through the museum, pointing out relics from the battle career of her hero Wellington, the Iron Duke. There are exhibits under glass and pictures on the walls. A flag, a bullet, a military hat; Duke Wellington on his big white horse; three soldiers crouch- ing in a ditch; a pair of Napoleon's jinnies,* making believe to read a book of strategy; and a sex-caliber telescope through which the Duke trains on the flanks of the jinnies. The reader begins to recognize through all the shooting-gallery noises and the smoke-confused scenes of battle the om- nipresent story of a great man, two temptresses, and three soldiers. ? Be- tween the Duke and the jinnies dispatches go back and forth. This (? ) is me, Belchum, bearer of the dispatches. ? First, a dispatch from the jinnies to annoy the Willingdone: "Behold thy tiny frau, hugacting. Signed: Nap. " This is me, Belchum, carrying the dispatch. And this is Wellington's an- swer, displayed on the regions rare of me, Belchum: "Figtreeyou! Damn fairy Ann--c? a ne fait rien. Vo^tre: Willingdone. " (That was the first joke of Wellington. Tit for tat. ) This is me, Belchum, in his twelve-league boots, footing it back to the jinnies.
[Napoleon and Wellington are exchanging in- sults, Napoleon being represented through the jinnies. ]
Here now are some more exhibits: Balls, cannon fodder, other views of the jinnies, the soldiers, and the Willingdone. The Wellington cry is "Brum! Brum! Cumbrum! " The jinnies' cry is "Donnerwetter! Gott strafe England! " To the tune of "It's a long way to Tipperary," the jinnies run away. This is me,
? ? * This word refers both to a couple of young mares on the battlefield, and to a pair of Napoleonic filles du re? giment. These polymorphous beings correspond to the two temptresses of the Park episode.
? This is a reflex, of course, of the story of HCE, whose fall is to be but a variant of the fall of Finnegan. The fire water which intoxicated the ancient giant, and the two urinating girls who intoxicate HCE, are variant-aspects of the one eternal river-woman ALP.
? This entire passage is full of obscure references to England's many wars and must be re- garded as an adumbration of the Empire theme. The characters are fluid and only half emergent, but constantly suggest Wellington, Napoleon, Blu? cher, and other personages of the battle of Waterloo. "Belchum" carries overtones of "Belgium," the country in which Waterloo is situated.
? ? * A month and one windies: ? ? -plus-? windy windows. The ? is the leap-year girl Iseult, ? ? the number of her little girl companions. These represent the younger, Kate the older, manifestations of ALP. Where the one is apparent, the other is implicit. There would be no fragments lying about for old Kate to collect and cherish, had there been no seduction to precipitate a fall.
? In the text is a pun on the Rothschilds. Was it Byron who said that not Wellington but the House of Rothschild defeated Napoleon? The seven superimposed shields carry the suggestion, also, of the seven "sheaths" (physical, astral, mental, buddhic, nirva? ? ic, anupa? - dakic, and a? dic) which, according to the occultists, clothe the essence of the soul.
? ? A Skeleton Key to Finnegans Wake ? ? Finnegan's Fall ? ?
? crows have flapped away. She never comes out when the thunder is roar- ing, she is too moochy afreet; but tonight is armistice; here she comes: a peace-bird, picking here, picking there. All spoiled goods go into her nab- sack: with a kiss, a kiss cross, cross criss, unto life's end. Amen.
In this way she serves the future: stealing our historic presents from the postprophetical past, so as to will to make us all lordly heirs and lady mis- tresses of a pretty nice kettle of fruit. Greeks may rise and Trojans fall, (? ? ) young heroines come and go, but she remembers her nightly duty: she'll puff the blaziness on. Though Humpty Dumpty fall frumpty times, there'll be eggs for the croaking company that has come to wake him.
[This fragment-gathering crone is identical with old grinny who spreads the feast after the Fall (? ). The shell fragments of Humpty lie scat- tered about, but she gathers what she can of the old fellow's substance, which she will serve to the generations of the future, to sustain them and carry them forward. ]
Let us, meanwhile, regard the two mounds and all the little himples, these hillocks, which are like so many boys and girls of a smaller generation sit- ting around playing games, Bridget with Patrick, on his chest--his very presence urging them to love. They are hopping around his middle like kippers on a griddle as he lies dormant. And nearby is the Magazine Wall. [An echo is heard of Dean Jonathan Swift's verse on the futility of this mil- itary structure in a land picked bare by English masters:]
Behold a (? ? ) proof of Irish sense! Here Irish wit is seen!
Where nothing's left that's worth defence, They build a magazine.
So this is Dublin.
Hush! Caution! Echoland! [The initials, HCE. ]
How charmingly exquisite! It reminds you of the outwashed engravure
that we used to be drunkenly studying on the blotchwall of his innkempt house. * Look and you will see him. Listen and you will hear the music and
? laughter of the company, but the Magazine Wall--fimfim fimfim--with a grand funferall--fumfum fumfum. * The scene comes to us converted into sound by an optophone. ? List to the magic lyre. They of the Wake will be tussling forever to the discord of the ollave's harp. ?
Turn now to this ancient book, the Blue Book of our local Herodotus, Mammon Lujius. ** "Four things," it says, "f. t. in Dublin ne'er shall fail,? ? till heathersmoke and cloudweed Eire's isle shall pall. " And these four Dublin eternals are: (? ) a hump on an old man [HCE], (? ) a shoe on a poor old woman [ALP], (? ) a maid to be deserted [their daughter Iseult], (? ) a pen no mightier than a post [their twin sons, Shem the Penman, Shaun the Post].
The traits of the archetypal figures emerge through every page of the chronicle, as the winds idly turn the pages and we read the entries for var- ious years:
? ? ? ? a. d. Men like ants did wander upon the hump of an old whale stranded in a runnel. Blubber for Dublin.
? ? ? a. d. A crone (? ? ) discovered her basket to be full of little shoes. Blurry works at Dublin.
? ? * I. e. , regard this landscape and you will discern through it symptoms of the Wake, still in progress. "Fimfim," etc. , is the jollification motif. Through many transmutations it will recur. It is the sound of a dry leaf "sinsinning" in the winter wind.
? An optophone is an instrument that converts images into sounds.
? An ollave is an Irish bard.
** The Blue Book of our local Herodotus, Mammon Lujius, is finally the dream guidebook,
history book, Finnegans Wake itself. It is here regarded as any ancient tome that might be at hand. "Blue Book" suggests the well-known "Blue Guide" series of travel books. The name "Herodotus" is modified in the text to the "herodotary" ("doting on heroes"). Mammon Lujius is a name based on the initials M. M. L. J. of Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John, the four Evangelists whose gospels are the history book of the Living Word. The four Evangelists coalesce with four Irish annalists, whose chronicle of ancient times is known as The Book of the Four Masters. These four again coalesce with four old men, fa- miliars to the tavern of HCE, who forever sit around fatuously rechewing tales of the good old days. These four guardians of ancient tradition are identical with the four "World Guardians" (Lokapa? las) of the Tibetan Buddhistic mandalas, who protect the four corners of the world--these being finally identical with the four caryatids, giants, dwarfs, or elephants, which hold up the four corners of the heavens.
? ? f. t. : four things. Abbreviation by initialing occurs frequently in the medieval Irish chronicles.
? ? * I. e. , the scene reminds us of a certain picture that used to hang in the tavern of HCE (used to hang, that is to say, in the long ago of a former cycle).
? ? A Skeleton Key to Finnegans Wake ? ? Finnegan's Fall ? ?
? (Silent)
? ? ? a. d. A damsel grieved because her doll was ravished of her by an
ogre. Bloody wars in Dublin.
? ? ? ? a. d. * Twin sons were born, Caddy and Primas, to a good-man and
his hag. Primas became a sentryman. Caddy got drunk and wrote a farce. Blotty words for Dublin.
[The actual historical events associated with the dates ? ? ? ? a. d. and ? ? ? a. d. are of minor moment. Clearly more important than any specific events are the relationships to each other of the numbers themselves.
[Every reader of Ulysses will recall the "thirty-two feet per second, per second. Law of falling bodies," which ran through Bloom's thoughts of the entire day. The number is now to run through the entire night of Finnegans Wake, usually in combination with eleven, the number of restart after finish. ? (The old decade having run out with ten, eleven initiates the new. See our discussion of the Kabbalistic decade for Bk. II, chap. ? . ) In the present instance the two numbers combine to form a date. This date halved yields another date, ? ? ? ; there follows a mysterious "Silent" (a world- destroying cataclysm) whereafter the dates appear again, but in inverted se- quence--the new world being a kind of Alice-through-the-looking-glass reflection of the old.
[If we add the four dates we arrive at the figure ?
