The main setting of the seventh episode of James Joyce's Ulysses is the newspaper offices of the Freeman's Journal and the Evening Telegraph, 4-8 Prince's Street North near the General Post Office and Nelson's Pillar, in other words, "IN THE HEART OF THE HIBERNIAN METROPOLIS" (U7.1-2).  Leopold Bloom, the protagonist, working in the offices as its advertisement agent, spent a very busy time on 16 June 1904.  It is the first episode not filtered through the consciousness of Stephen or Bloom.  As Michael Seidel says in Epic Geography, "it belongs to the city alone" (95).
  In the Odyssey, Book X, after the unfortunate encounter with the Cyclops, Odysseus reaches Aeolia, ruled by Aeolus, whom Zeus had made "warden of the winds."   Aeolus helps Odysseus on his way back by giving him the winds unfavourable to his voyage tied up in a bag.  As they were nearing home, his crewmembers opened the bag out of curiosity, so that the winds were released and they were blown off course, back to Aeolia, where Aeolus refused any further help for them.  The mythical correspondence here is between Aeolus and Myles Crawford, the editor of the Freeman's Journal, as the following schemata show:
 
 

  It is quite significant that Joyce related the Journalism with a mythical wind.  In this essay, I would like to review the Irish periodicals at the time described in this episode, by analyzing the journalistic style of this episode.  I will look at the headlines, the Phoenix Park Murders, and then Stephen's parable of the plums.  It is interesting that Joyce made the newspapers the source of his characters' sense of their own Dublin lives.
 
 

  In the 6th episode "Hades," the main setting is Glasnevin cemetery, the spiritual heart of Dublin, and the funeral procession went through Sackville (now O'Connell) Street.  Bloom is now coming back to work at the Freeman's Journal offices, behind the General Post Office in Sackville Street.
  The episode begins with the first headline "IN THE HEART OF HIBERNIAN METROPOLIS," and the description of the landscape of Nelson's Pillar, which occupied a geographically central position close to the General Post Office in Sackville Street, at the junction of Henry Street and Earl Street.
  As Michael Groden surveys in "Ulysses" in Progress, Joyce's composition of this episode fell into three main stages.³  He began to write the episode in Zurich in May 1918, and he told on August 25 that he sent the first drafts (not extant) to Ezra Pound some days ago.  The composition of the episode from the first drafts to the autograph fair copy (Rosenbach MS) thus occurred between mid-May and mid-August 1918.  Although there are about one hundred differences between the extant fair copy and typescript, the Little Review published the episode in its October 1918 issue, ending the first stage of composition.  The middle stage between mid-1920 and mid-1921 consists of the few changes and additions Joyce wrote in ink onto a copy of the original typescript for the Little Review before he sent it to his French printer, Maurice Darantiere, in mid-1921: he added the accumulated "Aeolus" phrases to the typescript.  The third stage from early August to October 1921 marks Joyce's great "recast" of the episode, as Joyce called it in his letter (LI, 172).   He filled "Aeolus" with correspondences, making many additions, including all the subheads and many of the wind references and rhetorical devices. This episode is the only one to undergo such a major structural change, although Joyce altered and supplemented all of the episodes.
  As Groden points out, this episode is a new beginning for Ulysses and is the first episode after the opening six scenes linked by a common time scheme (66); Stephen and Bloom appear in the same episode and they almost actually encounter each other in the offices.  After Bloom leaves the newspaper offices, Stephen enters with Deasy’s letter, which he later calls the "first epistle to the Hebrews" (U 16.1268).⁴  As Karen Lawrence argues, we have to recall that "rhetoric" is the art of the episode according to the Linati scheme in 1920 (390).⁵  The discontinuity was created by the headings and destroyed the flat narrative voice and the notion of a coherent narrating "self" (393).  Doubtlessly the headings in boldfaced capital letters intercept the original narration visually and temporally.  Lawrence discusses that as it appears in the Little Review, the episode seems a direct sequel to the first six episodes: as it appears in the 1922 version, it offers a departure from the novel of the first episodes and an adumbration of the experimentation in the subsequent episodes (390).
  When Joyce added the "headlines" or "captions" to this episode, he strongly accentuated the self-referential quality of the text and our awareness of this quality.  Most of the headlines react ironically with the narrative surrounding them, as David G. Wright discusses in Ironies of "Ulysses"(22).⁶  Karen Lawrence observes that in this episode "the book turns back on itself to comment on and parody its own assumptions, explicitly in the way the headings 'comment' on or rewrite the micro-narrative and implicitly in the way the chapter exceeds and incorporates the novel we have read in the early chapters.  Although the plot continues, the novel begins a radical questioning of the authority of its writing" (59).  Seidel discusses that the headlines of "Aeolus" are a mockery of even the possibility of Irish action: "Joyce realized the importance of initiating his urban parody when he added the headlines in revising the episode" (166).⁷
  The narrator of this episode faithfully describes the actual scene, different from post-Sirens episodes, so we can clearly observe what happens in the newspaper offices.  But if you count the headlines as a narrator, it confuses the actual scene and complicates it.  The basic function of headlines is to serve as introductory devices, and they also serve as redundant and exaggerated summaries here.  The three longest headlines, "WITH UNFEIGNED REGRET IT IS WE ANNOUNCE THE DISSOLUTION OF A MOST RESPECTED DUBLIN BURGESS" (U 7.77-79), "SOPHIST WALLOPS HAUGHTY HELEN SQUARE ON PROBOSCIS. SPARTANS GNASH MOLARS.  ITHACANS VOW PEN IS CHAMP" (U 7.1032-34), "DIMINISHED DIGITS PROVE TOO TITILLATING FOR FRISKY FRUMPS.  ANNE WIMBLES, FLO WANGLES? YET CAN YOU BLAME THEM?" (U 7.1069-71), have very short bodies.  Three shorter and nonsense examples are probably "? ? ?"(U 7.512), which is supposed to indicate the three succeeding questions,  "K.M.A" (kiss my arse, U 7.980) and "K.M.R.I.A" (kiss my royal Irish arse, U 7.990), both of which are initials of the citations from the conversation in the texts.  Suzan Bazargan notes in "The Headings in 'Aeolus': A Cinematographic View" that the use of the headlines resembles the titles of short silent films in the early twentieth century, which are based on historical events and often cast and glorified these events in hyperbolic settings: "equally lofty in tone were the subtitles introducing the historical persona or the dialogue" (347).  Joyce's keen interest in the cinema is needless to repeat in this essay.
  The later-inserted headlines in this episode might be a coded information he gave in order to report the Phoenix Park Murders in 1882.
 
 

  Roy Gottfried argues this incident in Joyce's Iritis and the Irritated Text that Myles Crawford's recreation in "Aeolus" of the coded information on the Phoenix park murders conveyed by Ignatious Gallagher through the printed page of the Weekly Freeman is disfunctional and deceptive (48) :

  --Never mind Gumley, Myles Crawford cried angrily. Let Gumley mind
  the stones, see they don't run away. Look at here. What did Ignatius
  Gallaher do? I'll tell you. Inspiration of genius. Cabled right away. Have
  you Weekly Freeman of 17 March? Right. Have you got that?
    He flung back pages of the files and stuck his finger on a point.
  --Take page four, advertisement for Bransome's coffee, let us say. Have
  you got that? Right.
    The telephone whirred.
 

                                    A DISTANT VOICE

  --I'll answer it, the professor said, going.
  --B is parkgate. Good.
    His finger leaped and struck point after point, vibrating.
  --T is viceregal lodge. C is where murder took place. K is Knockmaroon
  gate.
   The loose flesh of his neck shook like a cock's wattles. An illstarched
  dicky jutted up and with a rude gesture he thrust it back into his waistcoat.
  --Hello? Evening Telegraph here. Hello?... Who's there?... Yes... Yes....
  Yes.
  --F to P is the route Skin-the-Goat drove the car for an alibi, Inchicore,
  Roundtown, Windy Arbour, Palmerston Park, Ranelagh. F. A. B. P. Got
  that? X is Davy's publichouse in upper Leeson street. (U 7.651-69)

Ignatius Gallaher, appearing as a character in "A Little Cloud," is identified as an employee of the Irish-born English publisher Alfred C. Harmsworth (1865-1922), according to Don Gifford (105-6): with his brother Harold he published Answers to Correspondents (1888), the Daily Mail (1896) and the Daily Mirror (1903) and bought the London Evening News (1894), but no actual relationship can be found between him and the Phoenix Park Murders.⁸  He is referred mainly in the Aeolus episode since he is first mentioned in the Hades episode (U 6.58), his brother Gerald and his sister-in-law, Mrs. Joe Gallaher, are described in later episodes.⁹  As Gottfried discusses, Crawford does not use the actual paper of Gallaher's account here.  His date, March 17, is St. Patrick's Day, a very symbolical date for Irish Nationalism.  He fails to indicate the year, which makes the sentences ambiguous.  Don Gifford notes in "Ulysses" Annotated that the Weekly Freeman was published on Sundays, but St. Patrick's Day fell on Friday in 1882 (141).  He also notes that it is not clear whether the story Crawford tells took place at the time of the murders in May 1882 or in February 1883 during the trial, when the full story of the two cab routes became known (141).  Moreover, as Gottfried discusses, the advertisement chosen is only used as an example ("let us say") and not the one actually employed by Gallaher:
  Yet confusion of the newspaper's date and choice of ad is only compounded by the confusion caused by the letters named for the encoded message.  T and c are certain to appear in an advertisement for tea and coffee; a and b are also in the word "Bransome"; f and p are possible; but k is unlikely, and x strains credulity.  Even were Crawford to mean metaphorically "X marks the spot" of Davy's publichouse, then all the other letters in the ad would have their literal existence challenged.  The letters as markers are not only of questionable meaning but also of questionable presence; separate letters lose meaning when seen disparately, as Joyce saw them.  Crawford's audience--and Joyce's--is misled and made to misread.  (48-49)
  Later Bloom discovers the jumbled types of his name: his name is misspelled "L. Boom" in Dignam's obituary of the Evening Telegraph (U 16.1260).  In this novel, misspellings often bear significance, like "word/world" in Martha Clifford's letter (U5.245). Also, Lenehan's inquiry and pun "What opera is like a railway line?... The Rose of Castile.  See the wheeze?  Rows of cast steel" (U 7.591) is immediately solved by the inquirer but the title is repeated many times in later parts of the novel.¹⁰
  According to A Dictionary of Irish History 1800-1980, Phoenix Park Murders happened as follows:

On 6 May 1882, four days after resignation of the Chief Secretary, W.E. Forster, and the release of Charles Stewart Parnell under the terms of the Kilmainham 'Treaty,' the new Chief Secretary, Lord Frederick Cavendish, and the Under Secretary, Thomas Henry Burke, were assassinated outside the Vice-Regal Lodge in the Phoenix Park.  The killings were the work of a Fenian splinter-group, the Invincibles.  The murders, performed with surgical knives smuggled from London, shocked public opinion in Ireland and Great Britain.  Parnell, who believed that his work would be undone by the killings, offered his resignation to W.E. Gladstone.  Gladstone, whose wife was related to Cavendish, persuaded him to remain as leader of the Irish Parliamentary Party.

  James Carey, a member of the Invincibles, informed on his companions and turned state's evidence.  His revelations led to the execution of five of the principals involved, Brady, Kelly, Caffrey, Fagan and Curley, at Kilmainham between 14 May and 9 June 1883. Eight others were sentenced to long terms of imprisonment.  Carey was later shot dead by an Invincible, Patrick O'Donnell, in Cape Town.(473-74)
   William J. Feeney argues in his article "Ulysses and the Phoenix park Murder" that Joyce made two unaccountable errors in his references to the murder: the first sets the date in 1882, and Bloom philosophizes about the informers, "Peter Carey" "Peter Claver," or "Denis Carey" (U 5.378-81).¹¹  The context appears to call for James Carey.  If this is a planned error, it may be to show that Bloom was so much an outsider he could not give the correct name of the most notorious informer in Irish history.  But Feeney also notes, "On Nov. 27, 1882, Denis Field, a Dublin stationer, was assaulted by a gang which included Tim Kelly, Joe Brady, and Michael Kavanagh.  Earlier, while Field was a member of a jury hearing the trial of a man accused of shooting a policeman, he sent a note to his office.  He said the note was purely business, but there were complaints that a mistrial should have been declared.  However, it is improbable that Bloom, or anyone else, would associate Field with the Phoenix Park informers" (58).  In addition, Judge Lawson promptly summoned the editor of the Freeman's Journal before him to be fined £500 and imprisoned for three months for this contempt of court on the part of his paper.¹²
 
 

  In this episode, two of Stephen's literary works open to the readers.  One is the revised version of the poem he made that morning in Sandymount Strand (U 3.397-98): "On swift sail flaming/ From storm and south/ He comes, pale vampire,/ Mouth to my mouth" (U 7.522-26).  As Gifford shows, the poem is a slightly modified version of the last stanza of Douglas Hyde's poem, "My Grief on the Sea" of Love Songs of Connacht (62). This poem appears only in Stephen's mind and is never open to the characters of this novel.  The other is what Stephen titles, "A Pisgah Sight of Palestine or The Parable of The Plums" (U 7.1057-58), which is introduced by himself in the newspaper offices and applauded by the people there.  The title itself is deeply related to the Old Testaments, especially to Moses's vision, but the story does not seem to have any strong connection with it.
  It is the story of two Dublin "elderly, pious" vestals, Anne Kearns and Florence McCabe, who want to see views of Dublin from Nelson's Pillar.  They take out their savings and buy brawn, panloaf, ripe plums, and tickets to the monument.  When they climb to the top grunting and panting, they eat the brawn and bread.  Too tired to look up and down, they go near the railings and eat the plums, slowly spitting the seeds out between the railings.¹³  Hugh Kenner calls this story "a parable of infertility" (251), ¹⁴ J. G. Keogh notes "the virgin onanism of her [Dublin's] citizenry" (377) ¹⁵ and W. Y. Tindall terms it "an epiphany" (166).¹⁶
 
 

The first reference to the pillar is in the Hades episode.  Bloom notices it (U 6.293) and we heard a street vendor's cry "--Eight plums a penny! Eight for a penny!" (U 6.294): it is an advance billing to Stephen's parable.  In Joyce's time, Nelson's Pillar was a kind of tomb on an artificial mountain with a nice view:

    On now. Dare it. Let there be life.
  --They want to see the views of Dublin from the top of Nelson's pillar.
  They save up three and tenpence in a red tin letterbox moneybox. They
  shake out the threepenny bits and sixpences and coax out the pennies with
  the blade of a knife. Two and three in silver and one and seven in coppers.
  They put on their bonnets and best clothes and take their umbrellas for fear
  it may come on to rain.
  --Wise virgins, professor MacHugh said. (U 7.930-37)

  It stood on a pedestal, bearing on its four sides the victory dates and place names of Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson (1758-1805), and supported a capital, the abacus of which was surrounded by a strong iron railing.  On the capital stood a fine colossal figure, 13-feet high, of Nelson leaning against the capstan of a ship.  The entire height was 134 feet.  The pillar formed a landmark, and was the starting-place of the several lines of the trams.  It was decorated with flags on the anniversaries of Nelson's victories, and could be ascended from the inside, at a small charge, by a flight of 168 steps, and commanded, on a clear day, a magnificent panorama of Dublin and its surroundings.¹⁹  Nelson's Pillar, erected in 1808, two years after the admiral's death at Trafalgar, was the symbol of the British Empire governing Ireland.  Years later, many people including Alderman Peter MacSweeney and Thomas Sexton MP (later Lord Mayor) were calling for its removal as a traffic hazard, but this was strongly opposed by the Unionists who carried the days.  W.B. Yeats described the Pillar in the Seanad as "that monstrosity that destroys the view of the finest street in Europe" as Frederick O'Dwyer tells(1).²⁰  On the night of 7 March 1966 some nationalist group exploded a bomb which destroyed the upper half of the column.  The remainder was blown up by army engineers two days later (1).  When this episode first appeared in the Little Review, there was no headline as I have discussed and in the beginning paragraph Joyce added 20 lines including the two headlines "IN THE HEART OF HIBERNIAN METROPOLIS" and "THE WEARER OF THE CROWN" reminding us of Ireland as a British colony at that time.  In this sense it is meaningful that Nelson's Pillar is a main setting of Stephen's parable.  In addition, the pillar formed a landmark.  Michael Seidel argues that the "tramlines at the beginning and end of Joyce's Aeolus, a later addition to the text of the chapter, tell the directional and frustrating story of Odysseus' second near-homecoming, blown south and southeast around the tip of Italy.  At the beginning of Aeolus the trams all move from Nelson's Pillar to points in the south and southeast of Dublin... Aeolus at the pillar is a circulatory joke in Dublin" (163-64).  Later, in the illusion of the Circe episode, many most attractive and enthusiastic women also commit suicide, casting themselves under steamrollers, from the top of Nelson's Pillar, into the great vat of Guinness's brewery (U15.1745-51).
  The Freeman's Journal (now the Irish Independent) was an Irish major newspaper in Joyce's time.  According to A Dictionary of Irish History 1800-1980, the Freeman's Journal was :

[A] Newspaper founded in Dublin in 1763.  In 1892 it was controlled by Philip Whitfield Harvey who, in receipt of a government pension of £200 p.a., supported Dublin Castle.  During the period 1809-12 it fell into dispute with the Chief Secretary, William Wellesley-Pole, and became more independent.  Prominent editors and owners of the paper included Michael Staunton, Sir John Gray and Edward Dwyer Gray, senior and junior.  The paper supported Catholic Emancipation, Repeal, the Land League and Home Rule.  In the early years of the twentieth century it supported moderate nationalism and the Irish Parliamentary Party under John Redmond....(179-80)

  But the Freeman's Journal rejoiced in the opportunity presented by the death of Nelson for the people of Dublin: "The cavalcade which crowded the streets, was not the idle pomp of a public spectacle... there were ... few who did not experience the throb of nationality, where they saw the constituted authorities of their country, and the most respectable citizens of this capital emulate each other in the demonstrations of respect and affection to the memory of a REAL HERO" (16 Feb. 1808).²¹  So the Freeman's Journal, at that time, reflecting a substantial body of Protestant opinion, maintained an anti-Unionist, patriotic profile in the years immediately succeeding the Union, before Catholic pressure made union with Britain more desirable to Protestants, as Judith Hill argues (61-62).
  Wright argues that Stephen's "Parable of The Plums," recounted in the episode, shows that he has moved towards the fulfillment of forging in the smithy of his soul "the uncreated conscience of my soul," at least by writing literary texts which embody it (99).  Stephen recites the same story in Bloom's house, though Bloom does not seem to be interested in Stephen's story (U 17.640-41).
  Frederik K. Lang discusses in "Ulysses" and the Irish God that in viewing the city that encircles them and in peering up at the symbol at the center of the circle, the two Irish virgins, though standing on a height and looking "round" over a "prospect," experience a kind of epiphanal claustrophobia (147).  Nelson's Pillar is a phallic and tomblike stone monument at the very heart of Dublin, a surrounding skyline dominated by ecclesiastical "tombs" for the spiritually dead.  As Harry Blamires says, both Nelson's Pillar and the plum-tree have phallic significance.  In later episodes Bloom remembers "Plumtree's potted meat" since he read the advertisement under Dignam's obituaries, front page, left column of the Freeman's Journal (U 5.144-7), though the actual paper did not contain such an advertisement.²²
  The importance of Nelson in this episode is indubitable not only because of Stephen's parable and of the number of references but also because he was a heroic figure of the British Empire whose navy foundered "the catholic chivalry of Europe" (U 7.566) at Trafalgar.  The Irish people were "the liege subjects" of them as Professor MacHugh says (U 7.565).  Nelson's statue, towering up in the centre of Dublin, was itself a symbol of the British control.  Stephen refers to the statue in the story: "--And settle down on their striped petticoats, peering up at the statue of the onehandled adulterer" (U 7.1017-18).  Of course it mentions Nelson's love-affair with Lady Emma Hamilton (1765-1815), which parallels with Charles Stewart Parnell's affair with Kitty O'Shea, and with Boylan's affair with Molly.  Lady Hamilton, a prototype of Molly, met Nelson in September 1798, when she was thirty-three then, precisely same age of Molly in June 1904.  Nelson met her in Naples and died in Trafalgar, just a few hours' voyage from Gibraltar, Molly's birthplace.  Nelson's body was pickled in a cask of brandy, and carried from Trafalgar to Gibraltar, where the brandy was changed for spirit of wine for the long voyage of England.²³  Later we remember their adultery when a onelegged sailor sang "--For England...../ --home and beauty./ --For England...../ --home and beauty" the refrain from "The Death of Nelson" and a stout lady gives a copper coin to him (U 10.228-48).  Stephen's parable is important not only because it is his first literary performance in this novel, but also because it implicates the adultery between Molly and Boylan, one of the major events in Ulysses.
 
 

  Doubtlessly the technic "Enthymemic" and the art "Rhetoric" in Joyce's schemata are referring to both the actual Irish journalism at that time and the "windy" talk of all kinds at the offices.  It suggests that the relationship between the headlines and the bodies are ambiguous and the newspaper articles do not always convey the truth or are not always appropriate.  For instance, as for Joseph Patrick Nannetti (1851-1915), Irish-Italian master printer and politician who appears in this episode, Joe Hynes predicts his future as lord mayor of Dublin (U 7.106).  In June 1904, however, he was an M.P. for Dublin, College-green division since 1900, and he became the lord mayor in 1906.²⁴  In addition, according to the Evening Telegraph on 16 June 1904, Nannetti nationalistically asked the Chief Secretary in the Parliament if he knew that the members of the Slough-na-hEirireann were not allowed to play Gaelic games in the Nine Acres of Phoenix Park while polo was allowed to be played there. ²⁵  Joyce read the article and probably got an idea concerning this episode with Phoenix Park, although he purposely ignored the fact that he was not in the offices at that time.   The incorrect information in this episode could be a satiric description of Irish journalism at that time, but there are quite a few "windy" rumors throughout Ulysses, which are known as enigmas and puzzles to keep the professors busy for arguing over what Joyce meant.
  "aiokof" also means "glittering, quick moving, changeful of hue, glistening, quick-fluttering."²⁶  Moreover, Bazargan notes that the Greek verb "aiokkx" which first occurs in the Odyssey, 20.27 has the definite meaning "move back and forth" and that the back and forth motion resembles the movement on a polished surface (346).  In the next episode "Lestrygonians" takes Bloom from the Freeman's Journal and the Evening Telegraph offices "riverward" down Sackville Street and across River Liffey to the southside.  He moves from the northside to the southside, eating lunch.  The Liffey is famous for its recirculating flow, like the Aeolus wind.  The Liffey might bear a part of the Aeolus, although the schemata shows its correspondence with Myles Crawford, Irish journalism, and people's "windy" talk.
 
 

Main Text: Joyce, James. Ulysses. London: The Bodley Head, 1986.
               All citations from this are referred to in the following style:
             U x.y. x = the episode number, y = the line number in each episode.
Sub Texts: 1) Gen. ed. Groden, Michael. The James Joyce Archive (or JJA),
                  vols.12, 18&22.  New York & London: Garland Publishing, 1978.
               2) Joyce, James. Ulysses: A Facsimile of the Manuscript I. London:
                   Faber and Faber in association with The Philip H. A.S.W.
                   Rosenbach Foundation, Philadelphia, 1975.
               3) The Little Review, vol. V, no.6 (October 1919), pp.26-51.

 ¹ Stuart Gilbert, James Joyce's "Ulysses," p.177.
 ² Richard Ellmann, "Ulysses" on the Liffey, "Appendix."
 ³ Cf. Michael Groden, "Ulysses" in Progress, pp.64-66.
 ⁴ As for Mr Deasy's letter, see U 2.289-421.
 ⁵ Karen Lawrence, "'Aeolus': Interruption and Inventory," 390.
 ⁶ Wright's thought is much influenced by Lawrence's The Odyssey of Style in
   "Ulysses" (1981).
 ⁷ Seidel continues: "The city's parodic voices will unsettle the epic day in
   Ulysses from Aeolus through Nostos" (166).
 ⁸ Don Gifford, "Ulysses," Annotated, pp. 105-6. "Northcliffe, Alfred Charles
   William Harmsworth, Viscount," The Columbia
   Encyclopedia: Sixth Edition. 2000 (http://www.bartleby.com/65/no/Northcli.
   html).
 ⁹ Gerald Gallaher, U 10.043; Mrs. Joe Gallaher, U 15.565&4349, 18.1068.
¹⁰ Cf. U 11.8, 14, 54, 329, 331, 1109, 1271, 12.185, 14.1510 and 15.740.
¹¹ William J. Feeney, "Ulysses and the Phoenix Park Murder," 57.
¹² Cf. Tom Corfe, The Phoenix Park Murders, p.233.
¹³ Cf. Mark Osteen, The Economy of "Ulysses," p.212.
¹⁴ Hugh Kenner, Dublin's Joyce, p.251.
¹⁵ J.G. Keogh, "Ulysses' 'Parable of The Plums' as Parable and Periplum," 377.
¹⁶ William York Tindall, Reader's Guide to James Joyce, p.166.
¹⁷ Frederick O'Dwyer, Lost Dublin, p.14.
¹⁸ O'Dwyer, p.5.  The photograph was taken in the 1890s from the top of
   Nelson's Pillar.
¹⁹ Cf. Samuel A. Ossory Fitzpatrick, Dublin: Historical & Topographical Account
   of the City,p.298.
²⁰ O'Dwyer, p.1.  Augustine Martin notes in W. B. Yeats that he could hardly
   have expected his Catholic listeners to be softened by    a preamble pointing
   out that the statue of Parnell and Nelson in O'Connell Street commemorated
   adulterers (80).
²¹ The Freeman's Journal, 16 Feb. 1808.  Cf. Judith Hill, Irish Public Sculpture,
   p.61.
²² See U 8.742-43; U 17.304&597-8. Cf. the Freeman's Journal, 16 June. 1904.
²³ Cf. Phillip F. Herring, "Molly Bloom and Lady Hamilton," 263-64.
²⁴ Cf. Gifford, p.131.
²⁵ The Evening Telegraph, 16 June 1904.  The Chief Secretary answered that
   he believed that the arrangement was for the greater convenience of the
   greater number.
²⁶Cf. H.G. Liddel and R. Scot, Greek-English Lexicon, 1, p.40.
 
 

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