Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Page 186 (9.345-383) "Rest suddenly... I may see"

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notes: [Th] [G&S] [Dent] [wbks] [rw] [images] [hyper]
Delaney: [336] Useen: [] [cp] maps: [other] [*]
fd: [335]

Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell, rest of warm and brooding air.

AE has left, the other three remain; Lyster especially is attentive/friendly

A vestal's lamp.

Lyster = vestal, SD = Jesus?

Here he ponders things that were not: what Caesar would have lived to do had he believed the soothsayer: what might have been: possibilities of the possible as possible: things not known: what name Achilles bore when he lived among women.

"he" = Lyster?

Coffined thoughts around me, in mummycases, embalmed in spice of words. Thoth, god of libraries, a birdgod, moonycrowned. And I heard the voice of that Egyptian highpriest. In painted chambers loaded with tilebooks.

"the painted chambers loaded with tile-books" [ebook] [context]


They are still. Once quick in the brains of men. Still: but an itch of death is in them, to tell me in my ear a maudlin tale, urge me to wreak their will.

— Certainly, John Eglinton mused, of all great men he is the most enigmatic. We know nothing but that he lived and suffered. Not even so much. Others abide our question. A shadow hangs over all the rest.

— But Hamlet is so personal, isn't it? Mr Best pleaded. I mean, a kind of private paper, don't you know, of his private life. I mean I don't care a button, don't you know, who is killed or who is guilty...

He rested an innocent book on the edge of the desk, smiling his defiance. His private papers in the original. Ta an bad ar an tir. Taim imo shagart. Put beurla on it, littlejohn.

'The boat is on the land. I am a priest.' cf [ebook]

Quoth littlejohn Eglinton:

(Moore once calls JE 'dear little John Eglinton' but supposedly this was his pet nickname?)

— I was prepared for paradoxes from what Malachi Mulligan told us but I may as well warn you that if you want to shake my belief that Shakespeare is Hamlet you have a stern task before you.

Bear with me.

Julius Caesar III.2.104 'O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason. Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, And I must pause till it come back to me.'

Stephen withstood the bane of miscreant eyes, glinting stern under wrinkled brows. A basilisk. E quando vede l'uomo l'attosca. Messer Brunetto, I thank thee for the word.

fd: [336]
— As we, or mother Dana, weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said, from day to day, their molecules shuttled to and fro, so does the artist weave and unweave his image. And as the mole on my right breast is where it was when I was born, though all my body has been woven of new stuff time after time, so through the ghost of the unquiet father the image of the unliving son looks forth. In the intense instant of imagination, when the mind, Shelley says, is a fading coal, that which I was is that which I am and that which in possibility I may come to be. So in the future, the sister of the past, I may see



[DD 00:00-03:45]

[IM 23:05-26:55]

[LV1 28:14-31:41]

[LV2 23:00-25:48]

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