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The idea of a fictional encyclopaedia : Finnegans wake, Paradis, the Cantos Clark, Hilary Anne 1985

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THE IDEA OF A FICTIONAL ENCYCLOPAEDIA: FINNEGANS WAKE, PARADIS, THE CANTOS by HILARY ANNE CLARK B.A. Hons., Simon Fraser University, 1978 M.A., University of Toronto, 1980 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (Programme in Comparative Literature) We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA A p r i l , 1985 © Hilary Anne Clark, 1985 In presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanced degree at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the Library shall make i t freely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of my department or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying or publication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my written permission. Department of Comparative L i t e r a t u r e The University of British Columbia 1956 Main Mall Vancouver, Canada V6T 1Y3 Date ^ o r i l 25, 1935 ABSTRACT This study concerns i t s e l f with the phenomenon of literary encyclopaedism, as especially evident in James Joyce's Finnegans Wake, Philippe Sollers' Paradis and Ezra Pound's Cantos. The study focuses on developing the notion of an encyclopaedic literary mode and on establishing the existence of a genre of fictional encyclopaedias. It finds an encyclopaedic mode in literature to be one comprehending and imitating other literary modes, both mimetic and didactic. Further, the idea of a fictional encyclopaedia is developed through an understanding of the traits of the neighbouring forms of essay, Menippean satire and epic, and through an understanding of the paradoxes associated with the making of the non-fictional encyclopaedia. The fict i o n a l encyclopaedia thus comprehends and exceeds the following t r a i t s : 1. A tension, characteristic of the essay, between integrated autobiography and impersonal (and ultimately fragmented) exposition of the categories of knowledge. 2. A tension, characteristic of the Menippean satire, between tale and digression, between a single narrating subject and a multiplicity of transient narrating voices. The menippea also contributes a simultaneous preoccupation with the most sacred and the most profane subjects. - i i i -3. A totalizing drive characteristic of the epic, a d e s i r e — riv a l l i n g the urge to t e l l a story—to l i s t or include a l l aspects of the culture in the epic past. The fictional encyclopaedia also translates into fi c t i o n the following paradoxes associated with the encyclopaedic enterprise: 1. The recognition, implicit in the drive to trace a complete and eternally-perfect circle of the arts and sciences, that encyclopaedic knowledge is always ultimately incomplete and obsolete. 2. The recognition, at the heart of the attempt to produce an objective and unmediated picture of the world, that encyclopaedic knowledge is ideologically shaped and textually mediated. The dominance of the encyclopaedic gesture in Finnegans Wake, Paradis and the Cantos allows us to account for the characteristic length, obscurity and "bookishness" of these works; they absorb the traits and tensions of essay, Menippean satire and epic while yet exceeding these traits in their fictional translation of the encyclopaedic paradoxes noted above. This translation manifests i t s e l f in each work as a characteristic parodic hesitation before the authority of totalizing predecessors; i t manifests i t s e l f in the texts' fascination with images of a paradisiacal completion and timelessness, a tendency that is undercut by a repetitive, digressive or fragmented form which asserts the inevitability of time and incompletion. Further, the Wake, Paradis and the Cantos, in their overt and extensive - iv -intertextual activity, emphasize the textual boundaries of encyclopaedic knowledge. Nonetheless, in their foregrounding and valorization of speech rhythms, the works also repeat the challenge that the encyclopaedia brings to Its own limited nature as written book. - v -TABLE OF CONTENTS Page ABSTRACT i i TABLE OF CONTENTS v ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS v i i i INTRODUCTION I CHAPTER I: THEORETICAL CONSIDERATIONS 8 1. Genre and mode: general discussion 8 a. The essay 15 b. The Menippean satire 19 c. The epic ?-5 2. The encyclopaedia: introduction and general discussion. , 34 a. Problems in the totalization of knowledge 42 b. Problems of time 47 c. Relation to other books........ 49 d. Ideology and writing 56 3. The fictional encyclopaedia: introduction... 65 a. Problems in the totalization of knowledge 67 b. Problems of time 73 c. Relation to other books 76 d. Problems of writing 81 e. Formal consequences..... 82 CHAPTER II: FINNEGANS WAKE 84 1. Special problems 84 a. The pun. 86 b. The portmanteau word 88 c. Punning portmanteau words 92 d. Lexical chains 95 2. Problems of totalization 99 a. Modes of inclusion 100 i . External modes of inclusion 101 i i . Internal modes of inclusion, 108 - vi -b. Imitation of literary modes and forms 114 c. Treatment of encyclopaedic models 121 i . Giambattista Vico 121 i i . Giordano Bruno 131 d. Images of completion 136 i . The rainbow 139 i i . The musical scale 144 i i i . Alpha-Omega... 146 i v . The alphabet 150 3. Time and Timelessness 151 a. Past-present-future groups................... 153 b. Multitemporal figures 156 c. Repetition and narrative 161 d. Digression and narrative 165 4. Finnegans Wake: the Book and books 167 5. Finnegans Wake: writing and gesture 175 CHAPTER III: PARADIS 178 1. Special problems: non-punctuation 178 a. Study example........... 181 b. Paradisiacal writing 186 c. Paradis as fictional encyclopaedia 192 2. Problems of totalization 193 a. Modes of inclusion 193 i . Inclusion by lexical series. 195 i i . Inclusion by formal equivalence 199 i i i . Rhetorical strategies 208 i v . Number-parallelism 213 v. The catechism 215 b. Imitation of literary modes and forms 216 c. Totalization versus i n f i n i t y . . . . . . . . 224 d. Morcellation of the subject 235 e. Images of completion 239 i . Alpha-Omega 240 i i . The alphabet 242 f . Paradise and Hell 243 - v i i -3. Time, timelessness and the problem of beginnings...... 255 a. Grammatical time 256 b. Beginnings 257 4. "Pancyclopedie": the Book and books 259 5* Paradis; writing and orality 266 CHAPTER IV: THE CANTOS 270 1. Special problems: the canto form...... 270 a. Canto LXXXI.., 277 2. Problems of totalization 285 a. Modes of inclusion 288 i . The ideogrammic method 289 i i . Historiography and law 299 i i i . Formal equivalence.,, 307 b. Imitation of literary modes and forms 313 c. Paradise via periplum 319 i . Versions of paradise 320 i i . Evasions of paradise 331 3. Time and timelessness 339 a. Multitemporal layering 342 b. Memory 344 4. "In principio verbum": textuality and speech..... 349 CONCLUSION 359 1. Summary 359 2. Encyclopaedism in the twentieth century 365 FOOTNOTES 368 BIBLIOGRAPHY 402 - v i i i -ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I would like to thank Professors G. Good, L. Weir, V. Raoul and K. A l l d r i t t of the University of British Columbia for advice and criticism invaluable in the preparation of this thesis. - 1 -INTRODUCTION The phenomenon of encyclopaedism In literature has been noted by a number of c r i t i c s and has been given a variety of names: an 1 2 3 encyclopaedic form, encyclopaedic narrative, the encyclopaedic Book, an encyclopaedic impulse or fictional encyclopaedism, an "encyclopoetique."^ The epithet "encyclopaedic" has been applied to novels, to poetry, to mixed forms such as the anatomy or the Menippean satire, and to the autoportrait.6 Several points need to be made at the outset. F i r s t , these c r i t i c s have a l l noted a similar literary "fact." Despite the variety of responses, the responses themselves indicate the existence of a phenomenon that provokes discussion. Second, in such c r i t i c a l discussions, encyclopaedism in literature is not studied for it s own sake, but i s , rather, mentioned in passing, as something taken for granted to exist. The precise nature of the phenomenon, however, i s ignored. Are we, for example, talking about a literary genre or a mode of literary presentation? If a genre, what other genres are related to it? Does the pedagogical encyclopaedia have any bearing on the problem? Such questions are basic to a study that would focus upon encyclopaedism in literature as worthy of investigation in its own right. The following study wi l l undertake such a theoretical investigation of what we shall c a l l the "encyclopaedic text" or the "fictional encyclopaedia." Edward Mendelson, in his articles "Encyclopaedic Narrative from 7 Dante to Pynchon" and "Gravity's Encylopaedia," posits the existence of - 2 -a historical genre of encyclopaedic narrative, a genre having only a handful of members: Dante's Commedia, Rabelais' Gargantua and Pantagruel, Cervantes' Don Quixote, Goethe's Faust, Melville's Moby-Dick, Joyce's Ulysses and Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow. This genre has an external, historical significance with respect to the national literary traditions; i t also exhibits a set of internal, formal t r a i t s . Historical and formal traits together form a set specifying the genre. "Near-encyclopaedias" do not f u l f i l l a l l the formal conditions and do not occupy a special historical/cultural position. Gabriel Garcia Marquez' Cien anos de soledad i s , according to Mendelson, such a "near-encyclopaedia." Mendelson's view does not take into account the great number of works whose encyclopaedic quality we sense while reading them. When we say that a work we have just read is "encyclopaedic," we surely follow the l i t e r a l meaning of the word and mean that the work encircles or comprehends—or, more accurately, strives to e n c i r c l e — a l l human knowledge. This is surely to say more than that the work f u l f i l l s x, y and z generic conditions—for example, that i t contains a discussion of Q statecraft, features giants and provides a history of languages. The term "encyclopaedic" should not be so broad that i t loses descriptive precision; however, i t should not be so narrow, as in Mendelson's "genre," that i t excludes many likely works. The necessary narrowness of an exclusively generic approach to the problem may be countered i f we develop alongside this approach the idea that the encyclopaedic text features the functioning of a certain mode, - 3 -potentially present in a l l literary texts, but in some genres more 9 important, and in encyclopaedic texts dominant. This is something like the idea of an encyclopaedic form developed by Frye in his Anatomy of  Criticism. In his theory of fictional modes, Frye has an encyclopaedic or continuous form playing against an episodic or discontinuous form;10 both forms are at work, implying one another, throughout Western literature. The encyclopaedic form, embracing the entire vision of a culture, is inconceivable without the episodic forms (based on discontinuous moments of vision) out of which i t is built and against which i t takes its meaning. For Frye, the sacred scriptures form the paradigm for a l l encyclopaedic forms; these are built out of the episodic forms of the parable, the prophecy, and so on. This dialectical notion of encyclopaedic form would seem to contradict the simple generic notion of Mendelson. For Frye, non-encyclopaedic works would be episodic works; they would not simply be works lacking in a few properties, the complete set of which would make them encyclopaedic. In Frye's literary universe, there are no near-encyclopaedias. There is a danger in such a dichotomous approach to the problem, the danger being that in wrapping up the "encyclopaedic" so neatly in terms of i t s opposition to the "episodic," this approach cannot take into account the reader's experience that some texts are less encyclopaedic than others: some texts may contain certain pertinent features and lack others; in some texts an encyclopaedic mode is less important than in others. Frye's approach cannot take into account this important intuition of continuity or degree. - 4 -Several other approaches to literary encyclopaedism have already been referred to, and bear further though briefer mention. Vincent Descombes contributes the following qualification to our topic: " . . . any book aspires to be encyclopaedic, i.e., to go around i t s subject, so as to be equal to that subject (to say everything, a l l that must be said from the point of view that had i n i t i a l l y been decided). . . .m 1 1 Countering this universal aspiration, on the part of the book, toward summation or completion, we find that encyclopaedias and dictionaries very often include, not only an original body of a r t i c l e s , entries, but also an appendix or supplement. Descombes argues that the very possibility of a supplement undermines the comprehensiveness implied by the term "encyclopaedic"; paradoxically, i t is of the essence of encyclopaedic summation not to be able to close i t s e l f in a circle from A to Z. The problem of completion in the encyclopaedic work w i l l be central to this study. Ronald T. Swigger approaches our topic from the perspective of a general encyclopaedic impulse in literature, an impulse toward comprehensiveness in cognition, an "impatience for cognition." Such an impulse involves a gesture of both unification and division, both universalism and encyclopaedism; an "ultimate vision of mystic union is 12 preceded by a survey of the varieties and categories of existence." That there is an impulse toward knowledge at the base of a l l literature, an impulse that is especially dominant in certain literary works, is taken as a given in this study. The issue of encyclopaedism, then, involves not only formal questions of genre and mode but also the domain of communication and cognition. - 5 -Michel Beaujour, in his definition of the "autoportrait" (as opposed to the autobiography), outlines certain traits that could also apply to the fictional encyclopaedia. In Montaigne's autoportrait, for example, there is "pas de recit s u i v i , ni d'histoire systematique . . ."; instead, there is "une sorte de bricolage . . . assemblage peu 13 coherent . . . de petits essais heteroclites." Linear narration gives way to an analogical or thematic organization which is open to any number of additions. In fact: . . . 1'autoportraitiste ne salt jamais clairement ou 11 va, ce qu'il f a i t . Mais sa tradition culturelle le sait bien pour l u i : et c'est elle qui l u i fournit les categories toutes faites . . . categories des peches et des merites, des vertus et des vices . . . les cinq sens . . . les humeurs . . . les facultes . . . l'astrologie . . . la race, le milieu . . . The subject disappears behind a mass of material that begins to organize i t s e l f according to i t s own internal system of order. This notion of a special non-narrative principle of order based in the knowledge-categories of a culture wi l l be important in our discussion of the fictional encyclopaedia. Mikhail Bakhtin has unwittingly ( i t seems) sketched around the topic of literary encyclopaedism in certain of his formulations on the novel. In distinguishing between the novel and the epic, Bakhtin suggests that the novel is characterized by a familiarly manipulative or comic attitude toward i t s subjects and by an open-ended or inclusive form which accords as much importance to present-day reality as i t does to the glories of the (epic) past: " . . . the subject of serious literary representation (although, i t is true, at the same time comical) - 6 -is portrayed without any distance, on the level of contemporary r e a l i t y , in a zone of direct and even crude contact. . . . 1 5 Now, an imitative familiarity with a diverse array of topics, literary modes and forms is a trait that will be central to our discussion of the fict i o n a l encyclopaedia. Philippe Sollers' remark that the novel is a form including everything in the culture is also applicable to the encyclopaedic form.16 Why, then, speak of the idea of a fict i o n a l encyclopaedia when the idea of a novel might do just as well? This study attempts to develop the former idea in the interests of making clear distinctions: i f the term "novel" must cover both encyclopaedic-parodic (for example, Sterne) and realist (for example, Austen) narratives, then as a term i t is somewhat ambiguous. The idea of a ficti o n a l encyclopaedia develops the non-realist or parodic vein separately, in the interests of exploring its special links with the forms of essay, Menippean satire and epic, and with the encyclopaedia i t s e l f , that repository of the knowledge of a culture. An examination of the traits of these other forms will provide us with a better insight into works sensed to be parodic and all-inclusive, than is provided by their consideration—under the appelation of "novel"—alongside conventional realist narratives. A l l the approaches discussed above illuminate the phenomenon of 17 literary encyclopaedism, that impulse betrayed in a text by a love for pieces of wisdom, for their gathering and hoarding following the logic of their associations in the writer's culture. In the pages that follow, literary encyclopaedism is explored in i t s generic and modal - 7 -dimensions. The phenomenon refers both to a genre of works illuminated by the forms of encyclopaedia, essay, Menippean satire and epic, and to a mode encompassing other literary modes in a gesture of appropriation and parody. Literary encyclopaedism is evident in different cultures and times, but seems to be especially prevalent in writings of the twentieth century. The chapters on Finnegans Wake, Paradis and the Cantos should indicate the variety of forms in which a modern (and post-modern) literary preoccupation with encyclopaedic compilation manifests i t s e l f . - 8 -CHAPTER I THEORETICAL CONSIDERATIONS 1. Genre and mode: general discussion In thinking about fictional encyclopaedism, i t is important to begin with a clear distinction between genre and mode. In order to be certain, for example, of what a literary mode i s , we must recover Its original meaning in Plato's Republic and in Aristotle's Poetics. In Book III of the Republic, Socrates speaks of methods of story-telling: . . . there is one kind of poetry and taletelling which works wholly through imitation . . . tragedy and comedy, and another which employs the recital of the poet himself, best exemplified . . . in the dithyramb, and there is again that which employs^both, in epic poetry and in many other places . . . The methods of telling are to be distinguished from the content of works. Further, in the Republic i t is s t i l l somewhat unclear whether ways of telling should be distinguished from the forms or genres in which they appear; form and method seem to be used interchangeably, while both are set against content. In Aristotle's Poetics, however, mode (method) and form are more distinct. We again find three basic modes—narration, the mixed mode characteristic of epic, and dramatic representation: Given both the same means and the same kind of obj ect for Imitation, one may either (1) speak at one moment in narrative and at another in an assumed character, as - 9 -Homer does; or (2) one may remain the same throughout, without any such change; or (3) the imitators may represent the whole story dramatically, a| though they were actually doing the things described. These modes, when applied to different objects—high or low sorts of men—result in different forms such as tragedy, comedy, epic. Again, Aristotle carefully distinguishes the modes of presentation and narration from the means and the object of imitation; this distinction precedes an analysis of the forms of tragedy and epic. Mode and form or genre are thus not to be confused with one another. Plato and Aristotle, then, isolate three modes of te l l i n g in literature: narration, direct presentation, and mixed narration-presentation. Genette has described the historical changes that these modes went through before and during the Renaissance and the 3 Enlightenment. The three original modes were rebaptised "genres" and were elevated to the status of eternal, great forms existing above a clutter of individual forms or species. In the Renaissance, an evaluative distinction was made between the three great genres of l y r i c , epic and drama, and the individual species such as the ode, the epistle, etc. This distinction continued in Romantic poetics. Goethe, for example, elevated the traditional triad to the status of "natural forms"; these, unaltered by history, were not to be confused with the changing, appearing and disappearing historical kinds.4 The eternal forms were seen as genres ("archigenres"5), not modes. Generic theory slipped, then, from a conception of three basic mimetic modes of t e l l i n g , to a conception of a glorious triad of eternal - 10 -genres. The distinction between mode as a way of telling in literature, and genre as the specific, historical form this manner of tel l i n g may take, has been pursued recently by Genette, who puts the distinction the following way: . . . les genres sont des categories proprement l i t t e r a i r e s , les modes sont des categories qui relevent de la linguistique, ou plus exactement de ce que 1'on appelle aujourd'hui la pragmatique. "Formes naturelles," done . . . dans la mesure ou la langue et son usage apparaissent comme un donne de nature face a 1'elaboration consciente et deliberee des formes esth£tiques. As two distinct domains, mode and genre can be independent of one another. A mode is broader in scope than the individual kinds. Not necessarily eternal, but extending indefinitely over time, a mode wi l l operate in historical genres that may change, be replaced, disappear, without the mode i t s e l f ever disappearing (since i t is an aspect of our use of language). Thus a literary work can involve a mode (or modes) and be a member of a genre (or genres), even while the two domains are distinct. Within a given work, the relation of genre to mode involves not a one-to-one correspondence but rather a habitation, to a certain degree, of a genre by a modes or modes; the relation involves the establishment of a hierarchy of modes whose arrangement characterizes the particular genre of the work. Not a l l theories of genre have honoured the traditional generic triad of drama-epic-lyric. Some have conceived of another genre: the didactic. This new category takes the essay into account as an - 11 -honourable member of the literary canon. The Chicago c r i t i c s , for example, divided literature up into two basic genres—the mimetic and •7 the didactic. These "genres," I would argue, are surely modes, in the meaning of the term that we have developed. Again, Frye has posited, in a similar vein, four basic "genres"—the old triad of epos, drama and ly r i c plus something that he calls "prose": the latter can comprehend both an "intellectual" orientation (covering the didactic forms) and a Q fictional one. I submit, then, that the didactic "genre" discussed by these cr i t i c s should be renamed a mode and added to the other three modes, also re-established according to their traditional meaning. Such a grouping of modes w i l l account better for the "manner of telling" in the different forms of literature. I would further suggest that an encyclopaedic mode must also be added to this group. What does such a mode involve? Like the others, i t must be a manner of tel l i n g in a text; i t i s , however, a manner which brings together and comprehends a l l of the others. In Aristotle we saw the modes operating individually to the end of imitation of an object. What, as distinct from this mimesis, does a didactic mode involve? This takes over any or a l l of the basic mimetic modes, not to the end of mimesis but to the rhetorical end of persuasion, perhaps, the teaching of a moral order or doctrine. A didactic mode, like the others, is present to a varying extent in different genres. Now, an encyclopaedic mode functions rather like the didactic in - 12 -that i t , too, takes over other modes and adapts them to new ends. Unlike the didactic, however, its gesture of appropriation is by definition a comprehensive one: i t comprehends and transcends mimesis-oriented modes (telling and presenting, or both) and a didactic mode (teaching or persuading by telling and presenting). An encyclopaedic mode swallows up the pleasure versus instruction debate: the forms in which i t operates offer a synthesis of the two sides. Q Bakhtin's label of "serio-comical" is appropriate to such forms. Further, the end of the encyclopaedic differs from that of the didactic: its end is imitation, certainly, but an imitation of what has already been said in books; i t takes over epic, l y r i c , dramatic and didactic modes in one sweeping gesture, in the interests of imitating these modes for their own sake and not for the sake of any reality imitated or doctrine upheld. An encyclopaedic mode, then, comprehends other modes in order to imitate them. The fictional encyclopaedia imitates the literary kinds in which these modes have been embodied over history; i t includes and plays with specific styles, works, books. Such mimicry may aim at pleasure; i t may be c r i t i c a l (as in parody); or i t may be a blending of the two in a joyful critique or "serio-comedy." In texts such as Bouvard et Pecuchet, Don Quixote, and the "Oxen of the Sun" episode of Ulysses, books, genres or styles replace the world as object of direct imitation. The knowledge imparted by such texts, such "imitations of imitations," is of a refracted, "literary" sort. If i t can be argued - 13 -that mimesis i t s e l f mediates or shapes rea l i t y , then so much the more must encyclopaedism do so, as the latter disperses—or, on the contrary, concentrates—reality through the lenses of the other literary modes and kinds, of books. I have been arguing for the establishment of an encyclopaedic mode. Beyond this, I also submit that there exists a genre of fic t i o n a l encyclopaedias. Let us recall the relation of genre to mode: a genre is never in a one-to-one correspondence with a mode; just as a particular mode may operate in a number of different kinds (being dominant in some, less dominant in others), so a kind may have functioning within i t more than one mode. In tragedy, for example, where the (mimetic) dramatic mode is dominant, the representation of action wins out over narrative or l y r i c a l elements, didactic intent, or the (encyclopaedic) recasting of previous genres and styles. Now, fictio n a l encyclopaedias constitute a genre wherein the encyclopaedic mode is dominant and didactic and mimetic modes are subordinated and brought into the service of an over-all " i n t e l l e c t u a l "1 0 or "bookish" (or perhaps parodic) orientation. Let us put these ideas in diagram form: - 14 -Mod e s comprehends both encyclopaedic mode (comprehensive—a mode of modes—mimetic, but at a higher level or at a remove, i.e., mimics mimetic modes) and didactic mode (may take over any of the individual mimetic modes) mimetic modes (narration, representation, mixed) The above diagram does not necessarily represent a valorization of the most comprehensive mode. Our ideas on genre can be arranged in a similar "hierarchical" form: Genres essay fictional encyclopaedia Menippean satire jpic (—^  novel) 11 The essay, the Menippean satire and the epic are genres in which an encyclopaedic mode is important. Further discussion of the traits of these encyclopaedic kinds should determine how they qualify for the epithet "encyclopaedic"; a discussion of their traits may also add to an understanding of the genre of fictional encyclopaedias, inasmuch as the latter features these characteristics while comprehending and exceeding them. Finnegans Wake, the Cantos and Paradis are examples of such a - 15 -gathering-up of essayistic, Menippean and epic t r a i t s — p l u s others as well. Moby-Dick and the Commedia, mentioned by Mendelson as examples of encyclopaedic narrative, also perform such a gathering and exceeding. l . a . The essay The essay can be both didactic and autobiographical in nature. Montaigne's essays, for example, demonstrate how frequent citations from other authors, and use of moral exempla from other books, cause an autobiographical intent to be cut across by a didactic realization. Montaigne builds his essays as a fabric of citations of the Ancients and allusions to great men as chronicled in previous histories. The supposedly autobiographical thrust of the essays runs up against this didactic tendency to acknowledge intellectual debt to others and to write within the public domain. Very l i t t l e of the material on which his moral conclusions are based is actually personal; most is public knowledge, book knowledge. Pound's literary essays begin from the opposite direction: unlike Montaigne, Pound begins with a didactic intent, but this is cut across by a strong autobiographical presence. His precepts in the ABC  of Reading, for example, as much record a personal a r t i s t i c programme and set of discoveries as instruct upon on the writing and reading of poetry. Both Pound and Montaigne, no matter what their intent, must end by working within a public/personal tension at the heart of the essay form. A variation of this equivocation between the personal and the public, the autobiographical and the didactic, is the interplay, in the - 16 -essay, between fi c t i o n and non-fiction: i t is often d i f f i c u l t to decide which of these two characterizes the form. This interplay is allied with that occurring between the occulting and the unveiling of an ideological nature: " . . . cette oscillation entre deux attitudes qui consistent, l'une, a devoiler les modalite's du faire ideologique, l'autre, a les occulter, conditionne, dans l'essai, la possibilite" meme du discours."1 2 The essay hovers between, on the one hand, a didactic nature initiating forays into the public domain of other texts, a nature prompting an acknowledgement of sources and an examination of i t s own ideological premises, and, on the other hand, an autobiographical nature more closely linked to fictions and ideologies. Beaujour has discussed a similar ambiguity in the autoportrait: the autoportraitist begins with a desire to paint himself—as, for example, do Rousseau and Montaigne. But in his desire to f i l l in a perceived void with his own person, the autoportraitist instead reproduces the public domain of "les betises, les fantaisies, les fantasmes . . . Ie code moral de son epoque ou de sa classe, les bienseances, les conventions psychologiques et 13 culturelles. Perhaps the autoportrait, then, in this i n a b i l i t y to decide between the personal and the public, is simply another name for the essay. The essay potentially includes an encyclopaedic range of topics (moral, p o l i t i c a l , s c i e n t i f i c , etc.): essays may be written about anything. We think, for example, of the variety of t i t l e s in the essays of Montaigne and Bacon. Each essay-topic is explored on i t s own terms, according to i t s own logic: there is no predetermined path to be - 17 -followed. Like the autoportrait, the essay often follows a method of "bricolage" in which everything that comes to hand (including segments of other texts) is used in the exploration of the theme. The essay is both self-sufficient and tentative (open to further "assaying"); a collection of essays has no over-arching, predetermined order of it s own. Such order is usually decided after the components are complete; headings or larger thematic units may be inserted in order to group individual essays, which were not, however, originally written with an eye to such categories. The writer of an essay is somewhat like the writer of an article within an encyclopaedia: the latter is concerned with discovering and following the internal logic of his topic, and not with the over-all order of the work that wi l l enclose i t . The essay qualifies for the epithet "encyclopaedic" in several of the traits already discussed. F i r s t , i t has at its disposal an encyclopaedic range of possible topics. Although each individual essay wi l l tackle (usually) only one topic, one tiny segment of the entire circ l e of knowledge, the fact that the essay in general has the desire and the potential to work with any aspect of knowledge qualifies the form as being encyclopaedic in impulse and in over-all realization. Second, the essay features an encyclopaedic mode; this mode, we r e c a l l , characterizes those works which gather into themselves and imitate different modes, forms, styles. In reading an essay we often have d i f f i c u l t y in deciding just what mode, form, style, i t is taking up. Essays often seem to be now one thing, now another: they may seem to be fictio n a l or non-fictional; they may, as noted above, be now didactic, - 18 -now autobiographical. Within this indecisiveness there are local problems: is this or that essay lyrical? dramatic? narrative? mixed? One author has given a l i s t of ten types of essay: l i t e r a r y , poetic, fantastic, discursive, interpretive, theoretical, literary c r i t i c a l , 1 5 expository, journalistic and chronicling a time or a l i f e . There are shades, here, of Polonius' types in drama; 1 6 only a truly protean, assimilative form could generate such a l i s t . In i t s assimilation of generic boundaries, then, the essay enacts, on the formal l e v e l , an assimilation of knowledge on the cultural level. Certain traits of the essay are to be found in the f i c t i o n a l encyclopaedia. An awareness of these can enhance our understanding of the more comprehensive form. F i r s t , in both the essay and the f i c t i o n a l encyclopaedia there is a coexistence of an autobiographical element, or knowledge gained from personal—and perhaps unwritable—experience, with a public element, or knowledge mediated by lett e r s . In the fictional encyclopaedia, autobiography cannot be effaced by the essential anonymity of the enterprise of compiling an encyclopaedia: fictions presuppose persons writing, and the fictional encyclopaedia differs i n this respect from other fictions only in i t s relatively greater emphasis on anonymity as opposed to autobiography. For example, Pound's Cantos as fictional encyclopaedia feature the pressure of the public domain of documents, histories, texts, upon the record of a l i f e . Nonetheless, the long poem, in the very manner of i t s selections from the public domain, attests to a peculiarly personal "voyage" through and toward knowledge: "Knowledge the shade of a shade,/ Yet must thou s a i l after - 19 -knowledge/ Knowing less than drugged beasts." (Ca. XLVII) A second essay trait imitated in the fictional encyclopaedia is the peculiar fragmented format of the essay-collection. We have noted that such compilations follow no over-all order that is not imposed on them externally; each essay follows i t s own logic. Similarly, the order of the fictional encyclopaedia is thematic and associative rather than narrative and linear; i t is weighted more toward a constellation of independent pieces than toward any teleological movement. A work such as Moby-Dick, for example, features the interplay of one order with another; i t features the breaking-up of narrative by a whale thematic which is explored independently and in counterpoint to the narrative l i n e . l.b. The Menippean satire 18 The genre has been discussed by Frye and Bakhtin; Petronius, Varro, and Apuleius—and later Burton, Sterne and Swift—are "Menippean" authors. The genre's traits w i l l be briefly summarized here. The Ancients placed the Menippean satire along with the Socratic dialogue in the special category of the "serio-comical." These genres were felt to be quite distinct from the "serious" genres of epic and tragedy. Presumably they were also distinct from comedy. The serio-comical emphasizes what Bakhtin calls a "carnival attitude to the world": ". . . i n a l l the serio-comical genres there is a strong rhetorical element, but that element is radically altered in the atmosphere of j o l l y r e l a t i v i t y . . . of the carnival attitude: i t s one-sided - 20 -rhetorical seriousness, rationality, singleness of meaning, and 19 dogmatism are made weaker." This dissolution of single-mindedness is matched, at the level of form, by a multiplying of styles and genres, a mixing of high and low styles, verse and prose forms. The Menippean satire exemplifies the serio-comical t r a i t s , above. It is often more comical than serious. It displays a high degree of fantasy, and at the same time is concerned with a philoso-phical search for, and testing of, the truth; in this search i t often ranges from earth to the heavens and down to the underworld. The form brings together the highest mystical elements with the lowest human types of character in its characteristic fantastic journey after truth 20 or "ultimate questions." In this quest, i t reflects the epoch of i t s f i r s t emergence, "an epoch of the decay of the tradition of a nation and the destruction of those ethical norms which made up the antique ideal of 'seemliness' . . . an epoch of intense struggle among multitudinous heterogeneous religions and philosophical schools and tendencies 21 . . ." Petronius' Satyricon is an early example of Menippean satire. It exhibits the form's definitive s a t i r i c a l bent, ridiculing prevalent oratorical practices and social excesses. There is also, in the Satyricon, a hero's (or antihero's) fantastic journey through many divagations and low-life sequences in a quest for a mystical/erotic knowledge—and a cure for impotence. The sublime and base are indistinguishable in this strange genre. A summary of the more formal traits of the Menippean satire would o 9 include the following: a heterogeneous nature (the text is a - 21 -collection of smaller texts with no apparent over-all relation) and a related tendency to fragmentation; a mixing of prose and verse, and of forms such as letters, songs, epigrams, oratory, symposia, etc.; and the presence of many voices, refracting the originary voice of authority and creating an effect of anonymity, and a related use of masks or personae. Further, the form demonstrates an autobiographical impulse (the author may become a character within the body of the work) that is in a paradoxical relation to the above anonymous impulse. Finally, i t presents a vision of the world in terms of a "single intellectual 23 pattern" — t h a t i s , i t is organized symbolically. The Satyricon illustrates these traits save, perhaps, the element of autobiography. Its narrative is ( l i t e r a l l y ) fragmented: the reader jumps from one low-life scene to another. Its prose is abruptly interrupted by verse segments, oratorical speeches, etc. Its "single intellectual pattern" Is an eroticized quest-theme. Sterne's Tristram Shandy is similarly "Menippean" in its fragmented, digressive narrative, its mixing of the forms of main text and footnote (the latter becoming so lengthy that i t is often confused with text), and its patterning according to an all-informing theme of birth and receiving of identity. In the Menippean satire, the sublime exists alongside the grotesque; the single-minded philosophical quest is never far from the duplicities of irony—or the (encyclopaedic) multiplicities of parody. Indeed, parody is one of the chief drives in the form, the parodic gesture organizing i t s borrowing and mixing of forms, i t s relativizing of their difference. The form's satire empties i t s characters, making - 22 -them less people than "mental attitudes."Z 4 Further, i t is prone to expand into an "encyclopaedic farrago" based on a "magpie instinct to 25 collect facts." The Menippean satire's ostentatious "bookishness," its pointed reference to earlier works, is one aspect of this tendency toward encyclopaedic compilation. Further, i t s "magpie instinct" is indistinguishable from the operation of the parody: the gathering of references is simultaneously a parody of the learned activity of gathering references. Thus, Petronius, for example, operates a parody of past forms or works. Petronius aims his pen at the Odyssey, and at the wrath of Poseidon against Odysseus, when he presents the wanderings of Encolpius and his quest to overcome a god-induced impotence. Within the Satyricon, this Odyssean parody is with d i f f i c u l t y distinguished from the practice of making references (via the poet Eumolpus) to 26 painters and to other poets, including Homer and V i r g i l . Rabelais, in another case, parodies medieval romance and its treatment of the exploits of the hero when he presents such exploits, blown up to grotesque proportions, at the hands of Gargantua and Pantagruel. In Rabelais' work, as in Petronius', such parody coexists with a heterogeneous collection of forms—narration, dialogue, verse-intervals, riddles, l i s t s . How is the Menippean satire an encyclopaedic genre? F i r s t , i t is eager to take on any topic for discussion (and usually r i d i c u l e ) . Like the essay, i t may potentially speak about anything; however, unlike the essay, this encyclopaedic range of topics Is usually kept within the boundaries of a narrative which, even i f fragmented, is s t i l l - 23 -operative. The essay is encyclopaedic in its potential, while not so in its individual realizations. On the other hand, the Menippean satire does collect, like Frye's magpie, many unrelated pieces of knowledge; however, this activity of collecting is usually subordinated to the narrative by being kept in the form of references made by the characters, or by the narrator in the form of footnotes. It is only when references threaten to overtake narrative, when the encyclopaedist's love for his topics threatens to overtake the narrator's desire to t e l l a story, that we begin to cross the tenuous boundary separating the Menippean satire from the ficti o n a l encyclopaedia. Just as the Menippean satire absorbs an encyclopaedic range of cultural topics or items of knowledge into its narrative (a process threatening the narrative or master line with fragmentation), i t also gathers up a multitude of specifically literary forms and imitates them while parodying them. Like the essay, the genre features the simultaneous functioning of encyclopaedism in both i t s literary and cultural manifestations. For example, Rabelais' Gargantua and Pantagruel includes the arts of military strategy and of statesmanship, the types of children's games and methods of education; these are included in a narrative which also mimics the heroic chronicle or the romance, and which features a parodic imitation of the "x begat y, etc. . . . "of Genesis. The interpenetration of objects of knowledge and types of literature, of encyclopaedic inclusion and parodic imitation, is further evident, for example, in the l i s t s of the games to which - 24 -Gargantua is addicted before his educational reform: these l i s t s , besides collecting games, also recall the literary (or epic) tradition of extravagant list-making. Like the essay, the Menippean satire submits this activity of inclusion and imitation to certain limitations: the essay, for didactic reasons, concentrates on a fragment only of the circle of knowledge, while the Menippean satire is f i r s t and foremost a narrative. Certain traits of the Menippean satire are important in the ficti o n a l encyclopaedia. In the essay, an autobiographical drive works against a didactic or public tendency; similarly, in the Menippean satire—and the encyclopaedia—autobiography is countered by anonymous composition. In the menippea, one is never sure who is speaking or writing. This is somewhat the case in the Satyricon: Encolpius is so clearly visualized as a participant in the action that i t is easy to forget that his is also the narrating voice. Tristram Shandy features an even more extreme confusion of narrating subject and object of narration. These confusions provoke the question, "Who speaks?"; they thus lend anonymity to the work. With such a problematic narrator, anyone or no-one may be writing the tale. And yet Tristram Shandy is at least formally autobiographical: the narrative, of the birth and coming to identity of a baby, is a self-narrative. Further, in a work such as Ulysses (which I would argue is a fictional encyclopaedia), an autobiographical narrative (Stephen Dedalus' coming into self-knowledge) encounters the anonymous pressure of many different voices, with the result that the narrative is as much Dublin's as Stephen's or Bloom's. - 25 -Other Menippean traits which may be taken over in the more comprehensive encyclopaedic genre are its "serio-comical" tone and, especially, i t s fragmented and digressive form, i t s mixing of genres and styles, its organization according to a "single intellectual pattern" or symbol. Narrative in Sollers' Paradis, for example, is an endless digression, a kaleidoscopic sweep through countless fragments of the world's knowledge, through many forms of discourse. Oddly enough, this 28 formal "dissolution" or "rhizome"-llke multiplicity coexists with an emerging symbolic shape: evocations of an unattainable or unwriteable paradise form the symbolic or intellectual crux of Sollers' text as much as they do in Dante's Commedia. I.e. The epic A distinction between the epic and the fic t i o n a l encyclopaedia needs especially to be made, as they are often confused with one another. Pound's long poem has particularly lent i t s e l f to this 29 confusion; i t has been called an epic (and a menippea). This confusion is possible because the epic, like the menippea, is "encyclopaedic" in scope. The fictional encyclopaedia, however, may have elements of epic, but i t s t i l l has special concerns, arising from its relation to the encyclopaedia, which are not epic concerns. What are the traits of epic? The classical epic is at the base of the genre; i t s major traits should offer us a guide. The distinction between oral and literary epic is essential to the classical epic: Homeric and Virgi l i a n epics are based on an oral and a written - 26 -tradition, respectively. The epic as a long narrative poem thus began as an oral performance drawing upon many past performances and upon the gradual building-up of formulas (regularly-used word-groups) and thematic groups. Oral telling under the pressure of performance i s facilitated by this use of fixed structures or themes, within which a good deal of variation is possible. Oral epic thus does not simply memorize past performances: i t s formulae involve an interplay between repetition and innovation or variation; its composition proceeds via an 3 0 addition and expansion of themes or units of t e l l i n g . Authorship in the oral epic is not as clear-cut as i t is in the literary epic. A particular performance, by a particular singer, of a song or tale draws on past performances for the existence of the tale, i t s composition and many of its very lines and images; this dependence differs from the literary work's reference to, and incorporation of, its predecessors. Oral epic is thus neither authored nor anonymous; i t is at once an individual and a cultural product. In this sense i t is very much like the encyclopaedia, as we w i l l see shortly. The classical epic, whether oral or written, has several traits which are relevant to the idea of a fictional encyclopaedia. Such epic is a verse narrative, usually of some length, whose action is taken to have some historical basis. The epic's elevated tone arises from i t s desire to have a direct or privileged i n s i g h t — v i a the Muse or, within the tale, via the oracle—into the truth of events and into divine nature and motives. Competing with this desire to sing the historical and the eternal is a need to sing the magical, to digress into - 27 -marvellous or supernatural sights and events. The classical epic is thus built on the tension between truth and f i c t i o n , between i t s traditional calling as an imitation and i t s nature as a creation. In spite of i t s overwhelming desire to t e l l things as they were, to sing of wars and heroic achievements, Homeric and Virgilian epic sings equally of voyages —Odysseus' and Aeneas'—in which the historical and magical fuse. The gods are constantly interceding in the action of classical epic. It is perhaps due to their persistent presence that time in epic narrative becomes quite complex: the narrative line is broken up or interrupted by flashbacks to events preceding the main action, and by premonitions of events consequent on this action. Such narrative creates a global view of events, a perspective in which past, present and future are one, in which historical events are seen as a whole and 31 in their essential truth. This perspective taken by the epic poet simulates a divine one. Further, linked to a global perspective is the favoured use, in the epic, of the extended simile. Such a device, extending over some length, includes any diverse areas of knowledge or experience that might be helpful in evoking an idea. A global temporal perspective is thus inseparable from an encyclopaedic inclusiveness. The classical epic hero needs to be mentioned b r i e f l y , as he often reappears (transformed) in the fictional encyclopaedia. The hero battles for honour and journeys in obedience to divine impulses; he pits his strength and valour against monsters and monstrous situations. He is viewed externally, via actions which have a real effect upon the 3 2 world. His "larger-than-life" quality i s , nonetheless, countered by - 28 -his mortality and his frequently being in disfavour with the gods. Aeneas, as the paragon of classical heroism, must ultimately subordinate his desires to divine ones. To take account of medieval and later epics, we must characterize the genre more broadly. The epic has the quality of expansiveness, the 3 3 impulse to extend i t s own luminosity in ever widening c i r c l e s . This drive to extend i t s limits outwards, to include a l l that may be sung, is a totalizing drive: Lukacs' characterization of the epic, in The Theory of the Novel, as presupposing a totality of vision, is certainly 3*t applicable here. Expansiveness and totalization mean inclusiveness: q tr the epic is a "poem including history," in Pound's definition; i t is a poem including past, present and future, indeed a l l time, in it s global temporal perspective. As Aristotle puts i t , in the epic: . . . i t must be possible for the beginning and end of the work to be taken in one view. . . . For the extension of it s length epic poetry has a special advantage, of which i t makes large use . . . in epic poetry the narrative form makes i t possible for one to describe a number of simultaneous incidents . . . . This then is a gain to the Epic, tending to give i t grandeur, and also varietyof interest and room for episodes of diverse kinds. Beginning and end of an action, beginning and end of a time or of a l l time: this grandly comprehensive temporal scope enables the epic, according to Aristotle, to include variety or d i v e r s i t y — a movement found, in miniature, in the epic simile. The encyclopaedic nature of the epic form should be obvious: the - 29 -epic draws into i t s e l f everything known at the time of writing, including the art of warfare, names and nature of the heroes and the gods, domestic and social custom, and so on. We have shown how this encyclopaedic inclusion of a whole culture is responsible for the essay-form's thematic or non-narrative organization; i t is also the force behind the Menippean satire's tendency to introduce lengthy digressions into the narrative l i n e . An encyclopaedic inclusion of a culture might also l i e behind the epic's episodic form: episodes form a loose chain, with each piece being interesting for i t s own sake. The elements of a culture are evoked and repeated for their own intrinsic interest, not solely as steps in the service of a tale to be told. As previously mentioned, Frye sees a link between an encyclopaedic form implying a totalizing knowledge of a culture, and an episodic form complete in i t s e l f . The f i r s t , he says, is built out of the second. An episode in an epic is one of these units pressed into the service of an over-all narrative, yet s t i l l retaining something of its original, self-sufficient nature. The epic, while undoubtedly encyclopaedic In i t s impulse to transmit the totality of a culture, must nonetheless be clearly distinguished from the fictional encyclopaedia. Even more than the Menippean satire, the epic channels its "magpie" tendencies in the service of an all-important tale to be told: 37 The Wrath of Achilles is my theme . . . 3 8 I sing of arms and of a man . . . - 30 -On Man's First Disobedience, and the Fruit Of that Forbidden Tree . . . Sing Heav'nly Muse . . . (Paradise Lost) Unlike the encyclopaedist, the epic singer or writer is not concerned 39 with fields of knowledge outside his range of experience. Within this limitation, the epic totalizes and encloses a small, perfect cosmos; i t 40 treats a past absolutely sealed off from the flux of the present. The encyclopaedia, on the other hand, writes on the edge of contemporaneity, in a present always threatening to become the past. Tn this openness to the present, the form—whether fictional or no n - f i c t i o n a l — i s open to new areas of knowledge; i t does not enclose or encircle once and for a l l , so much as create a structure capable of supporting an indefinite number of inclusions. Further, the encyclopaedia treats i t s material with none of the awe accorded to the epic object; i t s seriocomical or parodic tone brings a l l of i t s inclusions onto the same le v e l , where they may be subjected to playful manipulation.1+1 The fictional encyclopaedia exceeds the epic, imitating It as one form among others. Nonetheless, i t is the case that definitions of epic already mentioned—that is is a "poem including history," that i t has the quality of "expansiveness, the impulse to extend its own luminosity in ever widening c i r c l e s " — a r e relevant to the idea of a fictional encyclopaedia. The epic's length is another relevant t r a i t : the work must be roomy or long enough to comprehend a totalizing vision of a culture and to include a global perspective on time. The past, present and future of an action, and more importantly the beginning and end of - 31 -history i t s e l f , are brought within its bounds. Correspondingly, the fictional encyclopaedia, as i t rewrites the sacred scriptures and reenacts sacred r i t u a l , is particularly concerned with the Creation, the Fall and the possibility of an (often erotic) Redemption. The epic's hesitation between telling history and making beautiful fictions is very much a trait of the fictional encyclopaedia. A work such as Dante's Commedia (which, in the sense that i t includes topical issues, is more encyclopaedic than epic) is concerned with history but is not content merely to report i t . It must place events within a larger fictional structure, place historical figure next to angel, place Italy next to the cosmos and God's scheme of things. In this sense i t imitates the encyclopaedia i t s e l f which, while professing to be working objectively with the real, shapes and takes liberties with knowledge in a manner reminiscent of f i c t i o n . The epic hero finds his double or his extension in the fict i o n a l encyclopaedia. We recall that in the epic scheme of things, in an order bounded by the wi l l of the gods (or by God's foreknowledge), the hero is ultimately limited in his capabilities and recognizes his own mortality. This is the case even though the hero is larger in stature than any other figure. Now, the epic hero takes two different forms in the fictional encyclopaedia, depending on whether the work Is ironic or not. In both cases the hero's nature is bound up in the pursuit of knowledge—a pursuit which was not foregrounded in the. epic, or at least not in the classical variety. In works such as Ulysses and Finnegans  Wake, the epic hero faces his ironic double. Bloom and HCE are based on - 32 -the larger-than-life heroes, Ulysses and Adam; they move through the respective works in a grandiose manner, having adventures and mishaps; their actions are commented upon from the perspective of myth and history. And yet both figures are voyeurs and tricksters. Both are magnified in order to be deflated: Bloom becomes Henry Flower and HCE becomes Humpty Dumpty. What would be known in these works, a set of truths at once erotic, nostalgic and mystical, is balanced by this ironic perspective and hence is rendered somewhat ambiguous. In less ironic works such as Faust and Moby-Dick, the epic hero faces his extension into an untenably extreme form. Faust, obviously caught up in the pursuit of knowledge, overshoots the epic mark, transgresses the boundaries traditionally limiting the epic hero's capacities. Faust would go beyond God's order and accede directly to the truth of things. Now, in the ironic world of Finnegans Wake, HCE/Adam's f a l l from grace is turned from tragedy by being compared to Humpty Dumpty's tumble. Faust, like HCE, wants to know too much, but his Fall is not ironized; he loses far more than his reputation. Like Aeneas, Faust towers over his contemporaries; unlike the prudent epic hero, however, he does not ultimately submit his w i l l to a divine one. Similarly, Ahab in Moby-Dick is modelled on the epic voyager after knowledge; however, in his desire to see into the heart of evil in the form of the white whale, he transgresses like Faust the boundaries of cosmic order and ultimately f a l l s from grace. Thus the fict i o n a l encyclopaedia repeats and transforms the epic hero differently depending on whether i t is a modern (ironic) work or not. - 33 -The oral/written tension in the epic is also repeated in the fictional encyclopaedia. Oral epic is more or less anonymous: i t may be performed and transformed by a particular bard, but i t is actually authored by a whole community of singers who have contributed versions of tales to a common pool of formulae, themes and ideas. In the epic, as in the Menippean satire and the essay, anonymous composition (the text as a wide assimilation of cultural categories) is in tension with authored composition (the text as a personal project). This tension within the epic genre is precisely the distinction between primary and secondary epic. Now, the fictional encyclopaedia often gives the impression of having anonymous authorship. A multitude of categories of knowledge are drawn into i t and enter into play; cliches, proverbs, direct transcriptions of signs, snatches of songs, weave through the text. A culture or community, not a particular person, seems to be authoring the work. So much information is included that one person, i t seems, could not possibly have transmitted i t . This effect is particularly marked, for Instance, in Finnegans Wake: this work, along with Pound's Cantos, requires a collective venture of annotation. Like oral epic, then, the fictional encyclopaedia has an anonymous aspect; however, like written epic (and, of course, like a l l written works), the genre remains an authored one. Indeed, i t goes further in being quite conscious of its nature and limitations as writing. Images of writing, of the book, in examples of the form are an important indication of this l i t e r a r y , or even scriptural, self-consciousness. Finnegans Wake, for example, while often giving - 34 -the impression of being a compendium of popular, orally-transmitted knowledge, a chorus (or, better, cacophony) of voices from different cultures and times, nonetheless features specifically literary images: Anna Livia's letter and the exegete's activity in deciphering i t transmit a consciousness of the literary (epistolary) nature of the 43 enterprise of the book; further, the parody of literary conventions of marginal commentary and footnoting indicates a textual tradition to which the book, however much i t may aspire to a condition of o r a l i t y , necessarily belongs.lflf Similarly, Pound draws upon the resources of the scriptural in his exploitation of the Chinese ideogram; his poem's imitation of numerous literary styles likewise moderates i t s tendency to be a direct medium for a multitude of voices from history. Thus we cannot simply say that our genre takes over the oral qualities of epic; i t absorbs, rather, the conflict between oral song and written book that stands at the heart of the epic as genre. 2. The encyclopaedia: Introduction and general discussion We have seen an encyclopaedic mode to be operating, to varying degrees, in several historical genres, and to be determining our perception of their "encyclopaedic" nature. These genres are the essay, the Menippean satire, and the epic. It is clear, however, that there exist certain texts that transcend these generic boundaries or include them a l l . Such texts contain aspects of the more limited genres, and yet seem to form a group on their own—the genre that we have - 35 -tentatively called "the ficti o n a l encyclopaedia." This term places emphasis on the notion of an encyclopaedia, and especially, by opposition to "f i c t i o n a l , " on the non-fictional encyclopaedia. Our task wil l now be to establish the traits of the latter as i t provides a model for the fictional encyclopaedia. In doing so, we must realize that the encyclopaedia Is only a metaphor for its fictional counterpart; we must not posit direct relations between the two levels. Characteristics of the non-fictional work are not taken over directly by fictional texts such as Moby-Dick and Finnegans Wake: instead, they are translated or transposed by a fictional universe and intent. In discussing the encyclopaedia, we shall be concerned with a number of different questions, a l l useful in f i l l i n g in more completely, later, the traits of the fictional encyclopaedia. We w i l l look at the etymology of the term i t s e l f ; at other, related forms or metaphors for the encyclopaedia, such as the thesaurus, etc.; at the different formats possible in the encyclopaedia, the different ways in which i t arranges its material and hence conceives of knowledge; and at the different kinds of authorship possible in i t . These questions suggest more general ones focusing on the ambivalent relation of the encyclopaedic project to i t s own limitations: to Its own necessary incompleteness (as opposed to a totalization of knowledge); to its own historical specificity (as opposed to a timelessness of knowledge); to i t s reliance on other books, sources (as opposed to an unmediated knowledge); to i t s own status as an ideological construct and as writing (as opposed to being a mirror of the world). Thus a number of assumptions as to - 36 -possibilities for knowledge underlie the encyclopaedic undertaking— underlie i t and at the same time are put into question by i t . The term "encyclopaedia" derives from the Greek terra for "encyclical education": the terra refers to the circle of arts and sciences considered by the Greeks to be essential to a libe r a l 45 education. The notion of an encyclopaedia, then, before referring to a book charged with including within its covers this circle or circular body of learning, referred just as importantly to a body of ideas, a course of education or instruction, which could conceivably have been 46 held and practised in oral, as well as l i t e r a t e , cultures. We must think about both a body of knowledge and a course of instruction or doctrine; the encyclopaedia, that i s , concerns both the object of knowledge and the process of coming to know. The term has more commonly come to refer to a book or set of books containing information on a l l aspects of knowledge, or on one particular branch of knowledge. The term has even come to be synonymous (or almost so) with the Encyclopedie of Diderot and d'Alerabert, such that many encyclopaedias neglect to include articles on their own form, its special problems and history, while nonetheless including an article on their famous predecessor. It is important for a consideration of the fictional encyclopaedia, however, to avoid exclusive emphasis on the notion of the book, and to return to the roots of the term "encyclopaedia," emphasizing the notions of circularity (comprehensiveness, totalization of knowledge) and of education ("paideia" means "culture"). Besides being Books containing, and somehow replacing, the world, encyclopaedias (and, indirectly, their - 37 -fic t i o n a l counterparts) are engaged in the process of education, formation, acculturation. What is important is not simply the knowledge included in i t s e l f , but also the act of building up this body or circle of "connaissances" and communicating i t to the public. The notion of "paideia" is thus important to keep in mind; i t has the same root as "paideuma," that notion which Pound places at the base of his vision in the later Cantos, and which comes to mean, for him, that body of ideas, rooted in a culture, that forms the basis of its ways of ordering experience.1+7 In this sense i t has a meaning something like Foucault's •+8 ' episteme." Whether we are concerned with a body of ideas—"paideuma"—or with the process of assuming this body, the process of education—"paideia"—we are dealing, in the encyclopaedia, with one step in the communication, circulation, distribution of knowledge. A notion of knowledge as arcane possession, store or treasure is definitely not lacking in the encyclopaedic endeavour; this hoarding for purposes of power is nonetheless balanced, or undermined, by the above drive toward a clear distribution of ideas. Magical or conservative and populist or distributive tendencies both compete in the encyclopaedic impulse. It is illuminating to look at names, often metaphorical, that encyclopaedias may take or have taken in different cultures; these tend to reflect the opposing impulses, magical and social, noted above. There is the term "reference work," which assumes the communication of ideas, grounding this process in the material support of the book, a 4 9 social product. Other cultures have played with terms such as "book - 38 -of categories" (Chinese) and "tree of knowledge" (India). Other terms include a "key to knowledge" (Islam) and a "necklace" (Islam), a circle of treasures.5 1 The treasure metaphor is transcultural and underlies our "thesaurus." Another universal metaphor is that of an image of the world—e.g., Imago Mundi (1410) —transmitted by the encyclopaedia as 5 3 mirror—e.g., Speculum Universale (1192-3). The "c i r c l e " in the term "encyclopaedia" joins the above metaphors; one must also include a notion of a "thirst" or desire for knowledge, a notion engendering such aquatic metaphors as a "fountain of words," an "ocean of jade," an 54 "ocean of words" ( a l l Chinese). Tree, book, key, necklace, treasure, c i r c l e , mirror, ocean: a l l are concrete words figuring, in different ways, the disposition of knowledge in the book, the relation of the work to its object. The relation is one of desire—or, in the metaphor, "thirst"—with the qualification that such thirst is self-engendering and endless. This is the "magical" drive for arcane knowledge and power, a drive that conflicts with the encyclopaedia's communicative function. There are two general ways in which the encyclopaedia can arrange i t s material. These are the alphabetic and the systematic orders. Both orders work under a common assumption: that one is aiming at a comprehensive account of a l l that is known, that one can indeed provide such an account. Within this totalizing framework, the two orders are quite dis t i n c t , and presuppose different world-views and historical conditions. Systematic arrangement (used, for example, in the Encyclopedie de l a Pleiade) is that in which the areas of knowledge are - 39 -presented according to their "natural" logic, divided up into chapters and sub-chapters; each area is intended to be read in it s entirety. There is a strong sense of a whole behind the parts: this discourages any desire, on the reader's part, for quick reference.5 5 It is not surprising that systematic arrangement has a longer history than alphabetic, which did not even appear until the end of the seventeenth century:5 6 the former is "une structure ferme'e, se donnant pour 57 naturelle et parfois pour divine"; i t presupposes a lo g i c a l , i f not theological, order of things, which must be respected and treated in it s entirety and integrity. The alphabetic order (used, for example, in the Britannica) i s , on the other hand, allied with empirical theories of knowledge; this is why i t has come to the fore only relatively recently. Unlike the systematic order, i t does not presuppose closed or previously-given systems of knowledge. Each object of knowledge is to be attended to separately, and is important in it s own right; one can thus "look up" such an object to the exclusion of a l l others. In alphabetic ordering, one finds the most bizarre, non-systematic juxtapositions of objects or entries. The two encyclopaedic formats thus presuppose different conceptions of the nature of knowledge, although both assume, i t would seem, the possibility of attaining to i t to some degree. The systematic arrangement, in progressing confidently through categories of knowledge, structures assumed to be given as such, obviously does not question the possibility of knowledge i t s e l f . The alphabetic format does not question the possibility of knowledge either: i t posits the existence - 40 -of a body of knowledge, or at least of an array of individual objects of knowledge, on which i t can draw for its individual articles or entries. There might seem to be other possible arrangements of knowledge, such as the tree of memory-reason-imagination placed at the head of the Encyclopedic of Diderot; these do not dislodge the two major orders from their primacy. (The Encyclopedie s t i l l follows the alphabetic order.) Whatever the principle of order used, a body of knowledge is assumed to exist, which requires such ordering for i t s communication. No one s ft format is inherently superior to the others. There are two kinds of authorship possible in an encyclopaedia: the book(s) may be the work of a single person, or they may have joint (or communal) authorship. These may ally themselves with the two principles of order, discussed above—over history, at least, i f not at the present time. A single author may write an encyclopaedia when the available body of knowledge is compact enough to be digested, ordered and transmitted by one scholar. A single encyclopaedist, that i s , is more common in times, such as the Middle Ages, when the body of available knowledge is limited and submitted to an overriding (usually theological) order. (This type of authorship is also possible in encyclopaedias dealing with only one, narrow segment of the total ci r c l e of arts and sciences.) Knowledge capable of being gathered and ordered by one author is also more lik e l y to be conceived of as a whole; that i s , i t is more likely to be set out in a systematic fashion, i t s areas being arranged from their general traits to their particulars, from one limit to the other. We should caution, however, that this correlation - 41 -between single authorship and systematic arrangement does not always hold, especially at the present time (the Encyclopedic de la Pleiade is a case in point). Joint or communal authorship becomes more common as the knowledge available grows too much and too quickly to be assimilated and transmitted by a single author. This type of authorship is thus especially prevalent in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. As the amount of information grows, so does the number of specialists required to order and present i t . With each edition of an encyclopaedia such as the Britannica, more experts must be invited to contribute. To follow this trend to its logical conclusion would be to project an edition requiring thousands of volumes and countless contributors. Now, the greater the number of specialists involved in the work of the encyclopaedia, the more it s authorship becomes essentially anonymous. In modern alphabetic encyclopaedias, authors are listed at the beginning of each volume, but are only indicated by i n i t i a l s at the end of the articles for which they are responsible. The work is not, s t r i c t l y speaking, anonymous, but i t is nearly so: the information i t contains is looked up for i t s own sake, and might as well have been written by anybody—or nobody. Such essentially anonymous and expanding knowledge is l i k e l y to be alphabetically arranged: i t s body w i l l not be seen as a whole, but in i t s individual parts; the objects of knowledge w i l l not be connected, or w i l l only be related by a few cross-references (which are, like the selection of a r t i c l e s , always arbitrary and susceptible to change). - 42 -Encyclopaedic authorship thus covers the range from single (and singular—the work being read as much as a work of i t s author or of God as for the integrated body of knowledge contained therein) to communal (and essentially anonymous, indeterminate—the work being conceived as an ordered collection of fragments of knowledge, with certain fragments only, rather than the whole, being read). In a similar way, encyclopaedic orders may be systematic or alphabetic, according to whether the body of knowledge is conceived as being unified, circular and relatively stable, or in f i n i t e l y divided, expanding and unstable. The encyclopaedia, then, is the result of a basic impulse to know a l l there is to know. One arranges such knowledge according to modes of order reflecting, to some extent, both a historical moment and an encyclopaedic tradition. Encyclopaedias, i t has been argued, flourish especially in times of transition between one social order and another, seeking to comprehend a l l past knowledge to the end of understanding a 59 sensed new order of things. A tradition is recovered, stabilized, and included in an uncertain present; the enterprise may be "to make a man whole . . . to make a man Christian . . . [or] to make a man free," according to whether we are in Classical Greece, medieval Europe, or 6 0 eighteenth century France. 2.a. Problems ln the totalization of knowledge That the encyclopaedic enterprise is characterized by a drive to encircle or include a l l there is to know, for ends that vary h i s t o r i c a l l y , does not preclude the possibility that there are - 43 -limitations to this drive. Such limitations are, I would argue, built in to the enterprise i t s e l f . No matter how confident an undertaking i t may be, no matter how much faith the encyclopaedists) may have in the possibility of mastering and communicating the body of knowledge at hand, the totality of this body is an elusive thing. One can thus speak of an erotics of knowledge, a recognition of loss at the very heart of its quest. Equivocation (or a simultaneous attraction to opposites) characterizes, f i r s t of a l l , the encyclopaedia's relation to a totalization of knowledge. It is both confident of achieving such comprehensiveness—this according to its very definition as being the circle or complete figure of knowledge, of the arts and sciences—and susceptible to the awareness that i t has not achieved i t , i f not to the awareness that total comprehensiveness can never be attained. The modern encyclopaedia's continuing sense of its own incompleteness is implied in i t s practice of publishing new editions involving new or revised articles; i t is suggested in its continuing enterprise to keep 6 1 up with, comprehend and transmit, an ever-expanding body of knowledge. Older encyclopaedias may seem by hindsight to have been markedly incomplete. Indeed, i t has been claimed that a mania for totalization was not even characteristic of encyclopaedia-making before the nineteenth century: for example, works before the end of the eighteenth century did not consider i t desirable to include entries for living people. There seem, then, to be two attitudes towards totalization: the f i r s t sees i t as being desirable but only possible within an ongoing - 44 -process of revision, updating and expansion; the second sees i t as being not always either possible or desirable. The f i r s t attitude may also involve the realization that totalization is desirable but only possible when pursued by more than one encyclopaedist: one man, says Diderot, can never in his single lifetime "connaftre & . . . developper le systSme universel de la nature & de l'art." Thus the possibility of totalization, the circ l e as complete course of instruction, may tantalize the encyclopaedist or editor; this circle as completion must contend with the vicious circle of desire as endless deferral. The desire to achieve encyclopaedic closure involves the desire to write the one Book that w i l l render a l l other books obsolete and unnecessary. As Mallarme discovered, this hope remains a hope only: the Book is always deferred to an indefinite future.6 l t This hope also informs Borges' story, "The Library of Babel." Here one is hoping to come upon the one book that w i l l contain a l l the other books, the whole i n f i n i t e (and hence meaningless) Library of the universe: In some shelf of some hexagon . . . there must exist a book which is the cipher and perfect compendium of a l l  the rest: some librarian has perused i t , and i t is analogous to a god. Vestiges of the worship of that remote functionary s t i l l persist. . . . To me, i t does not seem unlikely that on some shelf of the universe there lies a total book . . . I pray the unknown gods that some man—even i f only one man, and though i t have been thousands of years ago!—may have examined and read i t . . . . Let me be outraged and annihilated, but may Thy enormous Library be j u s t i f i e d , for one instant, in one being. The search for completeness in the mastery of knowledge is evident in the very appearance of new encyclopaedias (an occurrence that - 45 -is frequent, especially in this century as the body of knowledge to be transmitted expands almost exponentially). If a single encyclopaedia could really do what i t desired to do—that i s , resume a l l knowledge and a l l books for a l l time within its covers—then new attempts to master the body, or deal with its parts, would be rendered unnecessary. Evidence, then, of a quest for completion is also, paradoxically, evidence of the failure of this quest. Similarly, the publication of new editions (and often the discarding of earlier ones) and the publication of supplements and yearbooks66 attest to a double movement, in the encyclopaedia, of the mastery of knowledge and the acknowledgement of i t s loss. The phenomenon of the suppression and disappearance of older encyclopaedic editions is suggested in Borges' story "Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis 67 Tertius," and is made the vehicle of a characteristic air of metaphysical mystery. Until i t is finally located, and even upon i t s perusal, a missing volume of an older edition carries a body of truth, a key to a mystery. This volume in turn points to the existence of a whole set of volumes (only one of which surfaces) encompassing the knowledge of an imaginary culture. The optimistic process of discarding the old in the quest for ever-new editions, and hence for ever-more-complete knowledge, is here undermined: the old edition was more complete than the new; something essential has been l o s t . An optimistic view of knowledge, one which sees knowledge as capable of being mastered and distributed, encounters—in Borges' encyclopaedia—a pessimistic or conservative tendency, in which knowledge is seen as something mystical - 46 -or arcane, reserved for a selected few and threatened by extinction upon their deaths. Thus the loss or destruction of older editions suggests a movement whereby completion of knowledge is undermined; the unity of the present edition is shadowed by the notion that i t is perhaps not more, but less, complete than an earlier edition, that i t is omitting something v i t a l that may only be found in i t s predecessor. The publication of supplements suggests a similar knot in the totalizing process. Whereas the existence of back editions initiates a search backward in time for articles that may have been suppressed, for pieces to f i l l in gaps in the circ l e of knowledge, the publication of supplements initiates a forward temporal movement whereby gaps in the encyclopaedia must be f i l l e d by articles or work published after the present edition. In both cases, holes are evident in the work, holes which must be f i l l e d as part of the general drive to completeness motivating the encyclopaedic enterprise. There are always more articles that could be written, as the objects and fields of knowledge grow in number, or as systems of classification or principles of order change. Encyclopaedic completeness is thus a vir t u a l i t y only. It is kind of C Q "leurre" or "will-o'-the-wisp that cannot be pinned down in any one edition; It escapes i t s bounds and must be caught in a supplement—or in another edition. As a kind of alphabet, the encyclopaedia must always project more letters beyond Z: according to a voice in Finnegans Wake, 6 9 the "importunate towns of X, Y and Z are easily over reached." The supplement is one instance of a constant deferral of totalization in knowledge that is characteristic of the encyclopaedic enterprise; this - 47 -deferral plays against a desire for completeness (for "presence", in 70 Derrida's terms). Such a desire may either be manifested as a nostalgia, a turning back to lost works or editions in which the missing fragments of the puzzle might be found, or as a looking-forward to a Book to resume—and e n d — a l l books. It seems then that notions both of the F a l l and of the Apocalypse must inform any thinking about encyclopaedias. Why are these images of beginnings and endings so important? The sacred scriptures, s t r i c t l y speaking, do not form an encyclopaedia in themselves: encyclopaedias are interested in preserving and transmitting not only sacred truths or systems, but also secular ones, and the latter often for their own sake. Nonetheless, the Old and New Testaments, in being bounded by the Creation and the Apocalypse, possess a circularity or completion, the nostalgia for which motivates the encyclopaedic project. It is thus the Bible's interpretation as being the Book containing a l l there i s , that is important here. As A to Z, Alpha to Omega, the Creation/Fall and the Apocalypse form the boundaries of human history; the encyclopaedia, attempting to bound human knowledge, must thus return incessantly to these terms of loss and redemption.71 2.b. Problems of time A desire to achieve completeness is bound up, in the encyclopaedia, with a desire to achieve a state of timelessness for the knowledge contained therein. If a circle could be drawn around a l l knowledge, catching i t between the covers of a single Book (which may - 48 -include many volumes), then, as a figure of perfection, this circle would exist above the domain of temporal flux, and knowledge would be immune to the pressure of history and the real. Diderot, in the Prospectus of the Encyclopedic, expresses such a desire, but in rather equivocal terms: Qu'elle [la posterite] ajoute ses decouvertes a celles que nous aurons enregistrees, & que l'histoire de 1'esprit humain & de ses productions a i l l e d'age en age jusqu'aux siecles les plus recule"s. Que 1'Encyclopedic devienne un sanctuaire ou les connaissances des ho^ mmes soient a l'abri des temps & des revolutions . . . The Encyclopedic is a closed sanctuary for knowledge, maintaining i t outside the mainstream of history and violent change; i t i s , at the same time, open to change and to the contributions of posterity. To this encyclopaedist, the circle of knowledge can be perfected, but only in an indefinite future time. Perfection can thus be made one's goal, while being at the same time deferred as one struggles, in the present, with the temporal limitations of the undertaking. These limitations are, again, those of totalization: more material may always be found, more articles may always be written; material, once seized, may become obsolete in the time i t takes to arrange i t , write and print a r t i c l e s . The longer the encyclopaedic work takes, the more problematic i t becomes: . . .si le travail ti r e en longueur, on se sera etendu sur des choses momentanees, dont i l ne sera deja plus question; on n'aura rien dit sur d'autres, dont la place sera passee; . . . l'ouvrage se defigurera sans cesse sous les mains des travailleurs; se gatera . . . par le seul laps de temps . . . & deviendra plus - 49 -de*fectueux & plus pauvre par ce qui devrait y etre ou raccourci, ou supprime, ou r e c t i f i e , ou supplee, que riche par ce qu'il acquerra successivement. 3 One can imagine a feverish race to "beat the clock," In which a limit-state of simultaneity (of conception, writing, publication and reading) is projected. Perfection or completion, that i s , accompanies simultaneity, a l i f t i n g out of time. Contemporaneity could also, in the Encyclopedists' aim at least, go with such simultaneity: the past is 74 disregarded, the clock starts only now, as posterity is invited to join in the enterprise; the pastness of the past, and hence any real historical understanding, is l o s t . The testimony of one encyclopaedist—Diderot—underlines the paradox wherein one can be aware, In practice, of the d i f f i c u l t i e s for production posed by the passage of time, and yet believe that ultimately knowledge and understanding have no temporal horizon, that knowledge can be shared by a l l times in a common encyclopaedic endeavour—the making of a single great Book of the world. 2.c. Relation to other books The (wishful) notion that knowledge has no temporal limits suggests the converse notion that i t is indeed time-bound, and this because i t is text-bound. Time enters the picture, that i s , because the encyclopaedia works with the tradition in the form of texts. The circle of instruction is a circle of ideas that are only accessible via the reception of texts. (In oral cultures, the circle would draw upon a tradition of oral "texts," or bodies of ideas transmitted from - 50 -generation to generation. The tradition is no less structured for being 75 unwritten. ) In matters of knowledge, this conflict between immediacy and textuality, between "experience" and "books" is dramatized by Goethe's Faust, who would go straight to the heart of nature (the s p i r i t world) and who scorns the scholar Wagner's bookish method of acquiring knowledge: How strange, that he who cleaves to shallow things Can keep his hopes alive on empty terms And dig with greed for precious plunderings, And find his happiness unearthing worms! How dared this voice to raise its human bleat 7 g Where waits the sp i r i t world in immanent power? . . . The tension is between the lowest of the low—worms—and the heights of s p i r i t . But, of course, as Faust progresses the opposition must be inverted, as the " s p i r i t " to whom the seeker of knowledge aspires turns out to be the Serpent i t s e l f . Faust's soaring flight is actually his f a l l . His aspirations, aside from being sacrilegious, are impossible: as Eve discovered, the fruit of the Tree of (unmediated) knowledge is bitter to eat, and the knowledge gained is mediated by the experience of loss of originary innocence. Wagner's aspirations, though more plodding, are closer to the nature of available knowledge. There is thus a third paradox associated with the making of encyclopaedias. The ideal to which one aspires, along with the ideals of totalization and tiraelessness, is knowledge in an unmediated state; the problem with which one lives is that an encyclopaedia relies on a whole fabric of other books, sources, and hence that its material is multiply mediated and second-hand. Other books form the basis for the - 51 -individual a r t i c l e s , which may or may not acknowledge them via references or citations. These others (making up the encyclopaedic "intertext") may be the anonymous texts, or fragments of texts, or proverbs, etc., which form the unconscious base for the education of a people; or they may be specific texts, such as the "classics." The question of intertextuality, then, should be at the heart of our consideration of the status of the knowledge organized by the encyclopaedia. At this point we should digress briefly into a discussion of intertextuality, in i t s general features and in its bearing on the nature of the encyclopaedia and of encyclopaedic knowledge. Intertextual functioning characterizes not just encyclopaedias but a l l texts, to the extent of being a major constituent of textuality i t s e l f . Each text functions both horizontally (taking i t s place in a communicative circuit) and vertically (taking up a relation to a corpus of other texts). The vertical dimension is an intertextual'one: ". . . tout texte se construit comme mosafque de citations, tout texte est absorption et transformation d'un autre texte. A la place de la notion d'intersubjectlvite s'lnstalle celle d'intertextualite, et le langage 77 poetique se l i t . . . comme double." The vertical dimension l i f t s the text out of any simple concern with communication, and places i t in relation to a whole universe of other texts (and thus, indirectly, to a whole universe of knowledge). The intertextual space is "un espace . . . ou les livres se l i r a i e n t , s'eclaireraient, s'ecriraient les uns les autres, laissant place a un texte enfin reel qui serait - 52 -1'explication permanente du monde . . ."; the intertextual dimension, that i s , ultimately produces or ends in a great Book, into which a l l other books are written and which becomes reality i t s e l f . The old dichotomy between word and thing, book and world, is f i n a l l y dissolved. But this Book is a vi r t u a l i t y only: here, the notion of intertextuality is taken to its logical l i m i t . The idea of the Book results from an emphasis on the vertical dimension of textuality at the expense of i t s horizontal, or communicative, dimension. Earlier semiotic accounts of intertextuality are responsible for this emphasis on an autonomous poetic functioning. I would argue that communication—the production and reception of texts—must be what ultimately directs such functioning, which is not, in the last word, autonomous. A "horizontal" theory of intertextuality would emphasize the role of the reader in reconstituting the intertext behind a text—and, indeed, in perceiving the need for such a reconstitution. Riffaterre's theory of intertextuality, for example, differs from earlier semiotic accounts on just this direction of emphasis. A close text-reader interaction is posited: the reader perceives certain irregularities in the text's surface—certain "agrammaticalities"—that point in the direction of a significance not present in the text at hand. The reader must construct a significance—or reconstruct an intertext or subtext—which is in no way arbitrary, but i s , rather, tightly determined textually. Readers' capacities to uncover the intertext may vary individually and over time; nonetheless, intertextuality w i l l remain functional because i t involves the perception of irre g u l a r i t i e s , - 53 -even without the possibility of sketching in their source.* Intertextuality, under this view, comes very close to the workings of nostalgia, the desire to return to an originary text, while the present text becomes "un systeme de signes du desir". It is the nostalgia of a reader for lost significance that sets the reconstitution of this body into motion. From a "horizontal" point of view, then, intertextuality is a hermeneutic function which ultimately rests in a communication of desire to understand, to make significance. This function must orient a vertical relation to a space of discourse, other texts. We should keep these notions in mind as we consider the question of intertextuality in non-fictional t e x t s — s p e c i f i c a l l y , in the c r i t i c a l article and in the encyclopaedia a r t i c l e . Intertextuality in criticism is explicit or declared according to the conventions governing the practice of this genre. The writer must indicate the text or texts with which he is engaging in dialogue or argument; (s)he must acknowledge any other sources in footnotes or internal references. The c r i t i c a l text submits i t s e l f to the authority of its model or parent text; this holds even i f the younger text takes issue with i t s authority or wishes to exceed i t . The relation is one of inequality. Encyclopaedias, on the contrary, are not constrained to submit to a law of explicit acknowledgement of sources and submission to their authority. They claim for themselves the ideal and the privilege of dealing with knowledge as such, and not engaging i n a dialogue with other texts. But, as we have seen, the encyclopaedia cannot actually attain to knowledge without the mediation of other texts. The article in the - 54 -encyclopaedia does, in fact, relate to these texts as much as the c r i t i c a l article does; the process of submission to authority is the same, even though such submission may be unconscious or unacknowledged. Some articles contain references to sources on which they have relied for their material, and may have bibliographies. This is especially the case in longer articles with subsections, such as those on the geography, history, etc., of a particular country. Other a r t i c l e s , often very short and dealing with a simple unit of knowledge, contain no references whatsoever. The point to emphasize here is that a convention of acknowledgement, that would govern the writing of encyclopaedias, i s lacking. In this sense, the encyclopaedia article exists somewhere between the work of criticism and the work of f i c t i o n , the latter's reference to other texts being even more tacit than the encyclopaedia's. The encyclopaedia a r t i c l e , in other words, has already been moved one step toward f i c t i o n a l i t y , toward a free or unacknowledged play with other texts. Thinking about intertextuality, then, leads one to a notion of texts as being "second-hand". The knowledge to be gained from texts i s thus also never innocent, never unmediated, never "natural." Knowledge that would escape the domain of subjective states must be gained via the public arena of writing, must be gained from texts which are "never 8 2 moments of origin. . . . " Further, like knowledge, language and writing have always escaped the state of nature, and cannot directly represent or mirror i t . In order for language to bear some relation to nature, the latter must be seen as i t s e l f being a kind of writing or - 55 -book—nature i t s e l f must be made non-simple—and so the knowledge one can have of i t through the book must be even more multiply mediated and problematic. As Sollers says of Mallarme's notion of writing as "totale arabesque," "c'est . . . une ecriture qui va se situer du meme c6te que le monde, dans la mesure ou le monde est une Ecriture qu'une + 83 ecriture, seule, peut faire apparaftre et continuer." Only i f we see encyclopaedic writing as being such an "arabesque," as being a writing indebted to other writing (however much i t would deny it ) rather than to nature—only then does such writing come, under the above view, paradoxically close to rendering the world visible to the reader. We can draw several conclusions from the above ideas on intertextuality. There is a tension, in the encyclopaedia, between non-fiction's (especially criticism's) urge to cite i t s sources, and fiction's tendency to dissimulate i t s sources, or at least to display a cavalier attitude toward them, now citing (in a parodic fashion, as in Finnegans Wake), now neglecting to do so. The encyclopaedia a r t i c l e , we saw, may cite or give further references, or i t may not do so. There appears to be no explicit convention guiding i t s relation of dependence on other books, and this is because in i t the ideal of an unmediated knowledge ultimately overrides any duty to signal such dependence. Thus the ambiguous status of the encyclopaedia article with respect to i t s sources reflects its paradoxical aspiration to a direct relation to knowledge, while nonetheless having recourse only to. "words, words, - 56 -2.d. Ideology and writing Mallarme's notion of writing as being a "totale arabesque", a notion of ar t i f i c e or divorce from nature not ordinarily associated with such writing, brings in a fourth paradox in the encyclopaedic enterprise. This concerns the encyclopaedia's—and more generally the book's—relation to the world. There is a tension between the book's aspiration to mirror the world, to stand in a direct, (again) unmediated relation to i t , and it s status as an ideological and written construct. This tension i s , one might say, between two notions of the mirror: between the book as mirror reflecting the world, and the book as mirror creating i l l u s i o n s . Borges, in his story "Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius," opens with the following line: "I owe the discovery of Uqbar 8 5 to the conjunction of a mirror and an encyclopaedia." The narrator goes on to elaborate that " . . . one of the heresiarchs of Uqbar had stated that mirrors . . . are abominable, since they . . . multiply the numbers of man." Uqbar is a land existing only in an encyclopaedia, and only in one copy in particular. Mirrors in Borges' story are somehow associated with encyclopaedias in that they suggest mysteries and illusions: they multiply images rather than faithfully reflecting nature. Both encyclopaedia and mirror, then, have an ambiguous relation to truth, even while the encyclopaedia maintains a strong nostalgic bent toward the metaphor of mirror as simple reflector. The encyclopaedia, we have said, is ideological in nature: i t selects and orders i t s material on the basis of the historical moment and of certain timely interests of the encyclopaedist(s) or editor(s). - 57 -Just as conventions of citation and source-acknowledgement are held in suspense owing to the overriding "objective" drive of the work toward absorbing knowledge in an unmediated state, so principles of order and selection guiding the work often remain i m p l i c i t — o r are assumed to be the only such principles possible. Such structures or 'codes': . . . relevent de facteurs . . . qui organisent la p£dagogie tout entiere et le modele de communication par le livre . . . En un mot, loin de refleter le monde comme un miroir, selon la me*taphore bien connue, 1'encyclopedie construit son image comme le cartographe fai t sa carte, toujours incomplete . . . toujours arbitraire, mais selon ur^arbitraire controle et coherent (un code) . . . Any work aspiring to a disinterested mimesis of reality can be shown to be responding, whether consciously or not, to exigencies of time and place. It might at f i r s t seem that encyclopaedias should escape such dissembling of historical conditions and interests—that they should cla r i f y the premises underlying their selection and presentation of objects of knowledge. This supposition springs from the myth of, and nostalgia for, objectivity at the heart of the encyclopaedic enterprise. And yet we see, for example, how Diderot, in his Prospectus to (or apology for, or celebration of) the Encyclopedie, creates an impression of new beginnings, of a rupture with past efforts, when i t is obvious that the work takes its place in a tradition and is but one more response to a continuing and probably universal drive to comprehend and order knowledge. The Encyclopedie, Diderot says, is to be a new repository of knowledge to be added to by a l l posterity; what a pity - 58 -that the Ancients did not make anything similar: Quel avantage n'aurait-ce pas ete* pour hos peres & pour nous, si les travaux des peuples anciens . . . avaient ete transmis dans un ouvrage encyclopedique . . . Faisons done pour les siecles a venir ce que nous regrettons^que les siecles passes n'aient pas fait pour le notre. Diderot ignores, here, an entire tradition of pre-medieval and medieval encyclopaedias; he also ignores the fact that Bacon's division of knowledge, inspiring the "systeme figure des connoissances humaines" which supposedly schematizes the ordering principles of the Encyclopedie, is actually indirectly a product of this "forgotten" 8 8 tradition. Diderot's "vision partielle et partiale" of the tradition 8 9 thus indicates a certain "parti pris 'philosophique'". Why this blind spot in an "enlightened" encyclopaedist? The encyclopaedia aspires to deal with knowledge in i t s e l f , "objectively"; i t aspires to be a mirror of the world without the intervention of interests, dissimulations. But knowledge is intimately connected with concerns of power: events such as the publication of an encyclopaedia should not be analysed in terms of structures of meaning, but as implying certain relations of power: . . . one's point of reference should not be to the great model of language (langue) and signs, but to that of war and battle. The history which bears and determines us has the form of a war rather than that of a language: relations of power, not relations of meaning. The domains of knowledge, Foucault says, each imply certain p o l i t i c a l , - 59 -or power, relations; their discourse is governed or organized by an "internal regime of power" which may, at certain points in history, 91 undergo a sudden transformation. If each domain of knowledge is organized by relations of power, then so much the more must the encyclopaedia, as the sum of a l l these domains, attest to the presence of an "internal regime," certain principles of order not necessarily evident even to the encyclopaedist/editor himself. Such regimes and their succession in time might underlie, or contribute to, the successive flourishing of the systematic and the alphabetic encyclopaedic formats. Thus each encyclopaedia, in i t s quest to be an objective sum of knowledge and a mirror directly reflecting the world, turns out to be organized by relations which are a function of the historical moment of compilation and which determine the work's place in existing structures of power. Such relations are not necessarily conscious ones; this does not, however, deny their effectiveness. Diderot's "forgetting" of the encyclopaedic tradition up to a l l but i t s most recent manifestations (the latter including, especially, Chambers' Cyclopedia) should indicate an interest (whether conscious or not) in being part of a rupture— 92 especially an epistemological one —with the past. This deeper motive would be effective apart from any more superficial reason to promote the Encyclopedie's uniqueness to its potential readership. The encyclopaedia, then, is checked by certain impediments (often not conscious, appearing only through their effects or "symptoms") in i t s search for totalization, timeless relevance and unmediated access to - 60 -knowledge. The fact that the work, besides aspiring to be a reflection of a l l that i s , involves a shaping of knowledge by certain power relations, simply indicates one more equivocation, one more check to i t s expansiveness. The question of the encyclopaedia's relation to the world thus brings into focus i t s nature as an ideological construct; further, i t is a question of the encyclopaedia's nature as writing, as against i t s desire to reflect the world. If the work sees i t s e l f as a mirror of a l l that is (see the t i t l e s of medieval encyclopaedias such as the Speculum 93 Universale ) , then i t is the mirror's function here as a metaphor that should be investigated. As metaphor i t has two sides: a mirror reflects the world outside and a mirror indicates, via an i n f i n i t e regression, a world within i t s frame. Hamlet's "mirror held up to nature" is never far from Borges' mirror which multiplies nature and creates illusions of creation. The notion that the book can be a mirror of nature develops from the traditional view of art as being a mimesis of nature, of the world. In Book X of the Republic, Socrates suggests the holding-up of a mirror as a metaphor for the artist's making of his object: You could do i t [what the artist does] most quickly i f you should choose to take a mirror and carry i t about everywhere. You wi l l speedily produce the sun and a l l the things in the sky, and speedily the earth and yourself and the other animals and implements and plants and a l l the objects . . . 9 4 Art is thus a direct reflection of a l l that is in the world. It is nonetheless removed from a l l that is true, from the eternal Forms, of - 61 -which a l l that is in the world is only a reflection. The metaphor of art as a mirror is thus not, for Plato, an unproblematic one: there is direct reflection, certainly, but i t is reflection of something in 95 i t s e l f diminished in value. The knowledge we gain from art is mediated by an intervening set of illusions or shadows. The mirror metaphor thus does not guarantee a simple account of the knowledge to be gained from a work of art. Aristotle's theory of poetry as being an imitation seems, at f i r s t , to be a l i t t l e more straightforward: "Epic poetry and Tragedy, as also Comedy, Dithyrambic poetry, and most flute-playing and lyre-playing, are a l l , viewed as a whole, modes of imitation."9 6 And yet the kinds of poetry, and the kinds of art, are made to differ from one another by differences in their means, or by differences in their 97 objects, or in the manner of their imitations. The statement, then, that poetry imitates human action is not a simple one; the notion (already problematic) of a mirror held up to the cosmos has been dropped in favour of a set of distinctions, a more complex concept of imitation, better adapted to accounting for the specificity of each of the arts. In retaining the mirror metaphor of art, we run into d i f f i c u l t i e s when we ask of what art is a mirror. Plato ranges the entire visible cosmos as his object; Aristotle takes human action as his starting point. Abrams, in The Mirror and the Lamp, divides the possible objects of imitation, in the mimetic tradition, into the empirical and the transcendental, this division being, roughly, between the Aristotelian - 62 -and the Platonic (and neo-Platonlc) traditions. Art can, that i s , either find its objects in the world available to the senses, or in the ideal forms (God's) to be found either outside man—or in his soul. Such differences in the nature of the objects of imitation attest to the problematic nature of the notion of imitation i t s e l f . The mirror requires many qualifications when i t is applied to art in general ( i t soon becomes discredited, for example, as applied to the art of music). Further, i t must be approached with caution In any consideration of the book and its relation to the world. The nature of writing complicates the mirror metaphor, especially i f we think of the tradition of phonetic writing: "Writing, in Western culture, automatically dictates that we place ourselves in the virtual space of self-representation and reduplication . . . since writing refers not to a thing but to speech 99 . . ." Just as in the Platonic view art has only a mediated access to r e a l i t y , and this despite i t s nature as a mirror, so writing can provide only an indirect glimpse of a l l that i s , because i t refers, in an i n f i n i t e play of mirrors, not only to speech i t s e l f , but also, in another turn, to other writing. Within this view of multiple mediation, one can hold to the notion that writing provides access, however indirect, to the world; however, one can, in another direction, cut even these tenuous ties and free writing from any representational function whatsoever. In this view, writing's mirror is not a reflector, but i s , rather, an opaque shield erected against death: Headed toward death, language turns back upon i t s e l f ; i t encounters something like a mirror; and to stop this death which would stop i t , i t possesses but a single power: that of giving birth to^its own image in a play of mirrors that has no l i m i t s . - 63 -Language, in i t s non-mimetic aspect of in f i n i t e self-representation, thus suggests the model of mirrors reflecting one another endlessly. In this view, even texts written fully within the mimetic tradition (e.g., epics) are based on a play of mirrors as a f o i l against death; however, they attempt to evade their real nature: "The mirror to i n f i n i t y . . . was not displayed without an evasion: the work placed the i n f i n i t e outside of i t s e l f — a real and majestic i n f i n i t y in which i t became a virtual and circular mirror, completed in a beautifully closed form."1 0 1 If mimetic writing is an "evasion," then the encyclopaedia's claim to erect a "circular mirror" of a "real . . . infinity" available for knowledge is put into question. The encyclopaedia, then, in i t s nature as writing finds i t s relation to the world of objects of knowledge to be complicated far beyond what a mirror metaphor would want to suggest. Let us recall Sollers' summary of Mallarme's concept of writing: "c'est . . . une ecriture qui va se situer du meme cote* que le monde, dans la raesure ou le monde est une ecriture qu'une Ecriture, seule, peut faire apparaitre et continuer." Here, writing crosses over into the world, breaks down the barrier between signifier and signified, alters the relation of the book to the world. It makes the book a complete 102 world, and the world a book. It makes the library of a l l books a universe, and the universe a library, i f we recall Borges' story "The 10 3 Library of Babel." In this story, i t is no longer a question of the library reflecting a "real and majestic in f i n i t y " within a f i n i t e space, a circular mirror; instead, the library i t s e l f becomes the real i n f i n i t y , the universe, while the reflection of i t s contents within the - 64 -completion of a f i n i t e space (the space of a book) remains a hope, a vi r t u a l i t y only. Each book is potentially the entire library. If we hold to a non-simple notion of writing, then the encyclopaedia is not a circular mirror of, or window upon, the totality of things, but rather a library aspiring to contain a l l the books—on a l l subjects, in every language—that have been, are, or ever wil l be written. Again, Borges anticipates such a view of the encyclopaedia, in which language "crosses over," in his story "Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius." Here, the encyclopaedia comprehends a world which would not exist without i t : ". . .1 had in my hands a substantial fragment of the complete history of an unknown planet, with i t s architecture and its playing cards, i t s mythological terrors and the sound of i t s dialects, i t s emperors and i t s oceans, i t s minerals, i t s birds, and i t s fishes, i t s algebra and i t s 104 f i r e , its theological and metaphysical arguments . . . ." Our suspicion, voiced earlier, that encyclopaedias practise a certain licence toward r e a l i t y , a licence which is more often associated with f i c t i o n , finds a confirmation in Borges' story. Book and world are interchanged: the book creates a world, and not simply a " f i c t i o n a l " one. Relics of this new world are discovered that attest to its alternative presence. This view of the passage of the book into the world, and vice-versa, this view of their confusion, is the negative image of the mimetic view of the book as existing in the world, reflecting i t in an enclosed t o t a l i t y . The encyclopaedic activity of encircling knowledge is greatly complicated by the possibility of such a "shadow" enterprise, In which the encyclopaedia creates one world, a - 65 -universe of books and letters, even as i t reflects, like a mirror, another. 3„ The f i c t i o n a l encyclopaedia: introduction We are speaking, here, of works which display traits of essay, epic and menippea, but which go beyond these into the domain of the encyclopaedia i t s e l f . Ultimately, the fictional encyclopaedia is distinguished by i t s basis in sacred texts. A nostalgia for paradisiacal or daemonic states of knowledge is at the centre of works such as Dante's Commedia, Goethe's Faust, Melville's Moby-Dick, Joyce's two later works, Sollers' Paradis, Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow. The preceding study of the problems associated with the idea of an encyclopaedia should enable us to look anew at the traits of a group of fict i o n a l works which, we have decided, are legitimately encyclopaedic. Armed with these observations, in addition to those already arising out of our discussion of the neighbouring genres of the essay, the menippea and the epic, we w i l l soon be In a position to study individual cases. We recall that an encyclopaedic mode is one which imitates other literary modes; i t undertakes an imitation not of nature, but of books, styles, literary genres. It is linked, more generally, in the domain of culture, with encyclopaedism, that drive whereby the book strives to comprehend a l l that can be known. The encyclopaedia manifests this general impulse to knowledge in i t s purest and most obvious form. The - 66 -fic t i o n a l encyclopaedia is that genre in which an encyclopaedic mode is dominant; this mode translates a general impulse to knowledge into an impulse to gather together specifically literary forms, styles. In other words, we are not simply applying the traits of the non-fictional to the fictional form; we are not talking about a direct relation or correspondence between the two kinds of encyclopaedias. The non-fictional work functions in this study as a model or metaphor for its fictional counterpart. Hence, encyclopaedism in culture, and the problems specific to the making of encyclopaedias, are transposed, in the fictional work, into a literary space, and are discoverable in a form whose difference bears witness to the specificity of literature and of the literary tradition. Now, despite these general observations, i t is nonetheless the case that fictional encyclopaedias can operate on both the above levels: they can work on including directly (and what appears to be "non-fictionally") a l l known domains of knowledge, and they can include them indirectly ("fictionally") via a mimesis of a l l known literary styles and kinds. In the individual work, these two types of inclusion may be often d i f f i c u l t to distinguish: this is probably due to the fact that even the cultural knowledge brought into encyclopaedias is already mediated by other books—and often by literature i t s e l f . In our discussion of encyclopaedias we isolated four areas of concern: the work's relation to, and desire for, a totalization of knowledge, a timelessness of knowledge, an access to a knowledge unmediated by other books, and a direct access to the world as expressed in the notion of mirroring. The f i r s t two areas, we discovered, imply - 67 -one another, and i t further appears as though the latter two problems are related. However, isolating a l l four as problems associated with the making of encyclopaedias is useful in that each in turn suggests interesting issues that have some bearing on a discussion of the fictional encyclopaedia, in it s general traits and in it s individual cases. 3.a. Problems in the totalization of knowledge The non-fictional encyclopaedia, we saw, has as it s center the intention or desire to draw a circle around the totality of human knowledge and to encompass i t within the covers of a book. This desire is realized, in the body of the encyclopaedia, in the inclusion of many domains of knowledge (those of the natural and social sciences, the humanities, morality, etc.). Such an achieved inclusion i s , however, accompanied by a recognition of the inevitable and constant incompleteness of the knowledge-gathering enterprise. This recognition of impossibility, of gaps in the encyclopaedic enterprise, is manifested in the continual appearance of new encyclopaedias, in the publication of new editions of a particular work containing new or rewritten a r t i c l e s , and In the appearance of supplements intended to make up deficiencies in a particular edition, bringing i t up to date, extending the circle of knowledge ever wider. The perfect or complete encyclopaedic Book, that i s , is a vi r t u a l i t y only, a l i m i t , like perfect knowledge i t s e l f , toward which each actual encyclopaedia can only tend. Let us see how the ficti o n a l encyclopaedia enacts the paradox of totalization at the heart of the encyclopaedic enterprise. Like i t s - 68 -model, our genre Is v i t a l l y concerned with knowledge, with the inclusion of a l l that is and can be known (the domains of the arts and sciences, ultimate questions of good and e v i l , the beginning and end of time). In the literary work, the intent to encompass a l l knowledge need not be conscious or made ex p l i c i t , as is the case, by definition, in the encyclopaedia proper. Nevertheless, what is_ manifest is an achieved inclusion of many domains of knowledge. Associated with this inclusion is that of many literary styles, models, forms. The impulse to include a l l knowledge receives i t s working out, then, on two levels—the fict i o n a l and the extra-fictional or cultural; both these levels of inclusion are reconciled in the fictional encyclopaedia. Pound's Cantos offer such an interpenetration of inclusions, a reconciliation of objects of knowledge and literary approaches to knowledge. Canto XLVII, for example, includes instructions on ploughing at certain optimum times of the year; his Canto LI is an account of fly-tying for flyfi s h i n g . Both pieces of knowledge, however, have been obtained from books—from Hesiod's Works and Days and from Charles Bowlker,105 respectively. Such book-mediated know-how is one expression of a literary encyclopaedic impulse that also drives the poet of the Cantos to imitate the Odyssey, the Metamorphoses, Anglo-Saxon and Chinese poetry, Browning's and Tennyson's styles, and so on. We have already seen such a reconciliation of literary and cultural encyclopaedism to be operative in the other encyclopaedic genres—especially in the essay and the menippea. The literary work, then, w i l l always translate the impulse animating i t s cultural model - 69 -into a peculiarly literary expression while s t i l l retaining that impulse at i t s base. The other encyclopaedic genres have, however, priorities that are not dominantly encyclopaedic: they must write on a single theme, they must t e l l a story. The fictional encyclopaedia, in the end, is the only genre whose enterprise is f i r s t and foremost the gathering of literary and cultural knowledge; i t is the only genre which gives free rein to encyclopaedism, to a thematic arrangement of categories of knowledge, at the expense of its other functions such as telling a story and revealing character. We noted that there is a di a l e c t i c , in the encyclopaedia, between a drive to totalization and a recognition of inevitable incompleteness. In the literary text, the encyclopaedia's anxious activity of continual re-editing, publication of supplements, etc., is transposed into an essential uncertainty as to the possibility of encompassing knowledge. This b u i l t - i n doubt as to i t s own efficacy and as to the possibility of knowledge i t s e l f may be manifested textually in an ironic or parodic perspective on past works, forms, styles. In Flaubert's Bouvard et  Pecuchet, for example, the possibility of absorbing the complete circ l e of the arts and sciences is held up, tantalizingly, to the two autodidacts. Nonetheless, as each area of knowledge Is tried and discarded, i t becomes increasingly obvious to Bouvard and Pecuchet that such encyclopaedic completion is unattainable. Such an awareness is enacted textually in an ironic perspective on the books that promised to communicate so many different kinds of knowledge. An ironic perspective may coexist with a nostalgic attitude toward knowledge and i t s possibility, an attitude again resulting from - 70 -an uncertainty towards i t s own enterprise essential to the fictional encyclopaedia. Both irony and nostalgia presuppose an awareness of a remove (or turning-away) from a supposed positive or f u l l state of being and knowledge; this gap stimulates an attempt on the part of the writer and the reader to f i l l i t i n , to turn back, a goal which i s , of course, never ful l y realized. On the level of form, this ambivalence is manifested in a fragmentation and digressiveness obstructing any movement of the text toward coherence and completion. Bouvard et  Pecuchet, in i t s simultaneous attraction to, and rejection of, encyclopaedic completion, finds i t s narrative rendered practically non-existent as i t divagates., instead, from one domain of knowledge to another. Any purposeful movement is abandoned; the novel becomes a "pe*riple encylope"dique"106 in the Odyssean sense of a digressive wandering in the direction of an ever-receding homeland. Let us look at a few more examples. In Moby-Dick, the object of knowledge is the great white whale, which comes to embody everything—the nature of e v i l , the unknown, man's l i f e and death on the sea. The whale hunt becomes a knowledge-quest which has mortal consequences for Ahab, just as i t does for Faust. The white whale as object of knowledge is suitably unattainable; the paradoxical juxtaposition, in i t s nature, of whiteness and malignity deepens i t s ambiguity. The narrator's recognition of the impossibility of coming to know this mystery spawns, on the formal level, a large number of digressive disquisitions on whales and whale-lore. It is as though by multiplying the number of words about whales, one can capture the - 71 -"obscure object of desire" which is Moby-Dick. The tone of Melville's novel is perhaps not so much ironic as nostalgic, a nostalgia pointing to an encyclopaedist's despair over the possibility of totalization of knowledge. The novel's digressions are formal symptoms of this ambivalence at the heart of any knowledge-gathering endeavour. Pound's Cantos, to take another example, display an increasing fragmentation: the later cantos are constellations of short notes, allusions, images, ideograms, etc. These fragments enact a growing sense of the Impossibility of including everything; time, a l i f e , is passing in the writing of the long poem. Accompanying this sense of failure is a growing nostalgia, a growing pressure on the text to break open and reveal divine states of being. Joyce's Ulysses, in i t s parodic imitation of past literary styles and forms, and in i t s nostalgic perspective, for example, on love, is another fictional encyclopaedia, like Moby-Dick and the, Cantos, which has at i t s base a desire to include everything known—and an uneasiness as to whether anything can be known any more. This ambivalence Is worked out in the novel's parody of literary forms. The parody of the "Oxen of the Sun" episode, for instance, is a virtuoso masking of something to be known—the basic fact of childbirth. This parody's removes are equivalent to the subterfuges of Molly with respect to her adultery and to the gaps established, via the nostalgic musical refrains in the "Sirens" episode and a l l through the novel, between sentimental accounts of love and an unattainable Real Thing (a gap epitomized in Gertie McDowell's fruitless yearning for the perfect lover). What would - 72 -be known is never fully clear (and this is the basis for its potency as lure): in Ulysses i t seems to be an Edenic blend of sexuality and innocence. The burgeoning of domains of knowledge in the novel takes i t s possibility from this sense of incongruity between ideal and actual love or knowledge; the novel's s t y l i s t i c multiplicity and i t s episodic quality begin where nostalgia ends, affirm encyclopaedic play as reborn from the ashes of the F a l l . Similarly, Finnegans Wake, in i t s symbolic preoccupation with the Fa l l (Adam's, Humpty Dumpty's, HCE's), is concerned with the unrecoverable distance between a desire to include everything known and a realization of the impossibility of f u l f i l l i n g this desire. On the one hand, Joyce does appear to write the encyclopaedic Book of culture; his puns are a method (like the epic simile) of condensing a great number of objects of knowledge into a f i n i t e space; his polyglot practice is a kind of shorthand for this encyclopaedism. And yet the novel's pervasive sense of a F a l l betrays an uncertainty at the heart of this optimistic encyclopaedic enterprise, a sense that unmediated and complete knowledge is no longer possible. The novel's parodic imitation of literary and non-literary forms (the epic l i s t , the l e t t e r , the telegraph, the song) further establishes a relation of remove with 107 respect to some Real Thing, one stable somebody." The "formlessness" or digressive logic of the narrative also attests to the strain created by encyclopaedic inclusion: digressions are at once a way of f a c i l i t a t i n g and a way of evading knowledge, the pressure of things to be known. - 73 -3.b. Problems of time Encyclopaedias, we saw, have at their center a temporal paradox as much as an epistemological one. These works run into problems as soon as they aspire to encircle a l l the knowledge available to them and maintain i t in a state of timelessness, of enduring relevance. The encyclopaedist may even be aware that his knowledge has a horizon or limit to i t , and that this limit is a temporal one. In other words, the knowledge taken into a work is never independent of time, of the historical moment of i t s appearance. The knowledge contained within a encyclopaedia, however much the encyclopaedist would have i t attain a condition of timelessness, of absolute contemporaneity, is necessarily doomed to be dated. Articles may become obsolete in the time i t takes to write and print them. Even the processes of revision and expansion are no guarantee against obsolescence. In the fictional encyclopaedia, the desire for contemporaneity is translated into a desire for a simultaneity of past, present and future, or for a mystical vision of a state l i f t e d out of time; nonetheless, the text encounters and recognizes i t s own necessary temporal limitations even as i t has a tantalizing glimpse of a static or eternal domain of knowledge beyond it s grasp. The sweep of history, the pressure of change, play against such epiphanies or glimpses of eternity, of knowledge held or encircled once and for a l l . In the fictional encyclopaedia, which in this respect resembles the "magic realist" work or even the epic, the quotidian may be suddenly intersected by the divine, the miraculous or the daemonic. The genre thus ultimately finds i t s model (beyond the encyclopaedia, - 74 -that is) in the sacred scriptures, while i t finds i t s significance in the religious sphere. Dante's Commedia exemplifies this interplay between the quotidian and the eternal, between a topical perspective (in which one cannot see beyond one's historical moment) and an oracular or global summary of past, present and future. The f i r s t , limited view on events is taken by historical figures, Dante's contemporaries or predecessors, whom he encounters on his movement through Hell, Purgatory and Paradise. These characters are frozen in their historical moment; they must ask the traveller, who has acceded to a global perspective on events, to supply their deficiencies in knowledge and to t e l l them of their offspring and of events they have missed. Similarly, topical conversation may suddenly be interrupted by a divine apparition: for example, the Purgatorio features the appearance of angelic guides, fearful signs of a divine order, to lead the travellers from each c i r c l e , each scene of worldly encounters and reminiscences. The effect of this is to suggest an all-embracing presence of divine w i l l and foreknowledge, a presence which deepens and becomes more insistent as the traveller proceeds. In the Commedia, a nostalgia for a timeless state of knowledge is a desire to move within and come to know God's order. That the narrative is not simple and linear but tends to be recurrent, moving towards a center in rings or waves that relate analogically to one another, suggests, on the formal l e v e l , an ambivalence at the heart of a desire for direct access to eternal knowledge; i t suggests the poet's sense of his human and historical limitations. - 75 -In Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow, another work that has been called an "encyclopaedia", we again find the fictional encyclopaedia's nostalgia for states of eternal knowledge. The characters would like to make sense of the bleak chaos of the War by coming upon states of knowledge transcending their everyday condition. Certain characters rely on erotic stimulation or romantic communion; others turn to seances and conversation with the dead; others, again, take the "sc i e n t i f i c " route, via Pavlovian conditioned reflex studies, to a material knowledge of a state of mind which is nonetheless characterized in the most mystical way as an "ultraparadoxical phase . . . this transmarginal leap, this surrender. Where ideas of the opposite have come together, 108 and lost their oppositeness." Pynchon scatters his pages with returned dead souls, human-like animals, divine apparitions. In a distinctly Dantesque move, Pynchon has fiery angels appear to bomber pilots in f l i g h t : . . . others remembered how, for the few moments the visitation lasted, even static vanished from the earphones. Some may have heard a high singing, like wind among masts, shrouds, bedsprings or dish antennas of winter fleets down in the dockyards . . . but only Basher and his wingman saw i t , droning across in front of the fiery leagues of the face, the eyes, which went towering for miles, shifting to follow their f l i g h t , the irises red as embers fairing through yellow to white, as they jettisoned a l l their bombs in no particular pattern . . . bewildered at their unannounced need to climb, to i^^e up a strike at earth for a strike at heaven. . . . This sudden intersection, by another level of being, of the daily business of war recalls the coexistence of the divine and the worldly in the Commedia. In Gravity's Rainbow, a l l this divine and daemonic - 76 -t r a f f i c within the everyday points back to a moment sensed to be lost forever, the birth of the Child at Christmas. The novelist would like to see a l l time arrested in this moment of perfection, just as the encyclopaedists would have their work fix knowledge for a l l time. 3 . c . R e l a t i o n to other books Another problem we have seen to be suggested by a study of the encyclopaedia is that of intertextuality—the pointing, by a text, to other texts via allusions, citations, etc. This property of "bookishness" or "second-handedness" is intensified in the encyclopaedia, as i t s articles rely on source-texts which in turn may derive from other texts, and so on endlessly. At the end of an a r t i c l e , there may be explicit references to other works in the article's particular area of specialization. However, there is no convention requiring such reference in the encyclopaedic a r t i c l e , as there is in the c r i t i c a l a r t i c l e . Even where sources are not mentioned, where the knowledge appears to be everyday and common to a l l , one can ultimately trace i t back to anonymous schoolbooks, proverbs and so on. The encyclopaedia is thus a great Text which, even were i t written "out of the head," without references, nevertheless would have other texts written into i t . Each encyclopaedia forms a patchwork of debts, with the result that encyclopaedic knowledge is firmly second-hand, irremediably text-bound. Pound's Cantos provide the f i t t i n g symbol for this process whereby comprehending other texts is equivalent to comprehending knowledge: the notion of the palimpsest is important in the late cantos, and is applicable to the encyclopaedic book, where - 77 -layer upon layer of texts, partially-erased or fu l l y present, compose the text at hand.110 Inclusion of a wide text-bound knowledge is also the mark of the ficti o n a l encyclopaedia: the whole of history, a l l culture, various languages, are written into such a text. Consequently, i t may be f i l l e d with allusions to other texts, with actual citations, with parodic inversions, and so on. Moby-Dick, for example, begins with a collage of literary treatments of the theme of the great whale or Leviathan. At one point in Pound's Cantos, in other instance, the poetic voice begins to argue directly with i t s textual source about a detail in translation (end of Canto XCVI). In studying the fict i o n a l encyclopaedia, then, the problem becomes one of determining the degree of explicitness of i t s references to other texts. Since intertextuality is a feature of a l l literary works, and not just of those in which the encyclopaedic mode dominates a l l others, the distinction of the latter sort of works must rest in the frequency and the degree of explicitness of their references to and citations of other texts. Fictional encyclopaedias may display a desire to acknowledge their debts to others, although, as in the encyclopaedia, there is no rule requiring that they do so; they may desire to discharge these debts by bettering the originals; they may present a new synthesis, include more details, or attempt to come closer to an object of knowledge that has up to this point evaded a perfect understanding. Bouvard et Pecuchet is an example of such a literary work depicting an attempt to bring about a new synthesis of knowledge. This attempt is inseparable from a close attention to specific t i t l e s , - 78 -authors, even while i t implies the use of each as a stepping-stone only, a tool to be discarded in the c r i t i c a l quest. This is something like the process, in Don Quixote, whereby the reader arrives at a synthesis of a l l that has ever been said in the domain of chivalry. Moby-Dick, again, attempts to approach an object of knowledge—the great white whale and its metaphysical status—via an explicit commerce with a l l the texts that have ever dealt with whales, via a concern with a l l the fields of knowledge and technique that could ever touch upon this object. An indebtedness to other texts, which we have seen to be clearcut in c r i t i c a l non-fiction, and not so clearcut in the non-fictional encyclopaedia, is thus problematic in the fictional encyclopaedia (and, equally, in the encyclopaedic forms of the Menippean satire and the essay). Both encyclopaedia and encyclopaedic literature seem to follow their own rules in the question of whether to acknowledge indebtedness or not. We can cl a r i f y these issues in the following manner. Taking non-fiction and fic t i o n as two l i m i t s , we might see texts as being ranged along a continuum between them, a continuum, that i s , of explicitness of acknowledgement of debt. This ranges from the explicit subordination of the c r i t i c a l text to i t s master text, to the dialogue of equals occurring in fiction; i t ranges from citation by convention (and a corresponding concept of plagiarism) to free incorporation of other texts (leaving the reader guessing, hunting for significance). Intertextuality in the sense of indebtedness operates differently accordingly to whether a text is closer to non-fictional or fictional - 79 -l i m i t s . Thus, the encyclopaedic a r t i c l e , which would be classified as non-fiction, is closer to fiction than the scholarly a r t i c l e : the former may acknowledge i t s debts, but need not do so, whereas the latter must do so. Similarly, some forms of fic t i o n are more "f i c t i o n a l , " under this way of looking at things, than others. Realistic fiction would seem to occupy the extreme position at this end of the intertextual continuum: direct imitation of a world entails a concealing, to varying degrees, of a relation to other texts which is nonetheless, under our definition, constitutive of textuality as such. Now, the fictional encyclopaedia, fic t i o n which we have seen to be based, consciously or not, on the model of the encyclopaedia, w i l l be more "non-fictional" than r e a l i s t i c f i c t i o n : i t may use citation, footnoting, etc., freely; i t is (more obviously than r e a l i s t i c fiction) dependent on other texts, especially scholarly texts which have explicitly contributed to knowledge; i t jumps from one domain of knowledge to another, unconstrained by, or subverting, conventions of verisimilitude. Encyclopaedic fiction is nonetheless not the same thing as encyclopaedic non-fiction. The former's use of nonfictional conventions of acknowledgment is parodic or, at the very least, ambiguous, whereas the latter, when i t conforms to these conventions, does so to the l e t t e r . Footnotes in the fictional work, for example, cannot be read as explicating the text they annotate.1 1 1 Encyclopaedic fi c t i o n thus parodies and uses for i t s own purposes the conventions which encyclopaedias need not actualize, yet which remain implicit in their very undertaking as non-fiction. - 80 -The fictional encyclopaedia, like i t s non-fictional counterpart, thus relates a quest for knowledge to a journey through a course of books. Queneau, we have seen, uses the phrase "periple encyclopedique" to refer to this wide-sweeping (and often seemingly aimless) itinerary; one never knows, when one is engaged in this quest, where, or how, i t w i l l end. It is relevant to Pound's work, at least, that the quest for knowledge be placed in this Odyssean context of the "periple" or periplum, ". . . cette errance a travers la Mediterranee du s a v o i r . "1 1 2 Pound is quite conscious that the course on which he is engaged in seeking divine states of being is an Odyssean periplum: By no means an orderly Dantescan rising but as the winds veer • • • as the winds veer and the raft is driven and the voices , Tiro, Alcmene • • • Eurus, Apeliota as the winds veer in periplum Io son la luna". Cunizza 113 as the winds veer in periplum. The poet must skirt around uncharted coastlines, without any specific destination at which to aim, blown by chance winds. This method of quite conscious "errance" is associated with a female principle—with nymphs, breezes and historical heroines. The poet must approach an ever-receding shoreline of unmediated knowledge indirectly, via the mediation of books. Knowledge of past cultures, states of being, is gained, in the Cantos, by reading—of Chinese histories, of his t o r i c a l letters and archives, of translations (sometimes in many versions) of basic texts such as Dante and Homer. Book-knowledge, multiply indebted, - 81 -multiply removed, paradoxically coexists with moments (questioned immediately) of acute, unmediated apprehension of divine nature. Books form the coastline that must be followed—endlessly and in a circular fashion—in order to come upon such tenuous moments of knowledge. 3.d. Problems of writing A final problem that we discovered to arise in the making of encyclopaedias is that the encyclopaedia would be a "mirror held up to nature," but finds i t s e l f , as well, to be writing, to be a self-sustaining creation as much as a reflection. The fictional encyclopaedia repeats the encyclopaedia's equivocation in the matter of its relation to the world. In its twentieth-century incarnations, especially, representation of the world becomes increasingly tenuous. (This trend accords with the thinking of Modernism and Postmodernism.) The modern fictional encyclopaedia (Cantos, Finnegans Wake, Ulysses, Paradis) no longer seems to be interested, as the encyclopaedia i s , in being a mirror on the world or an objective reporting of a l l the domains of knowledge. Instead, i t introduces the reader into a sort of phantasmagoria of knowledge, a review of a l l i t s domains, a l l the books, in the modes of subjectivity, delirium, "errance," dream (or automatism) and myth. Pre-twentieth-century examples of the genre, existing before the influence of Modernism and such anti-representational trends, nonetheless share with the modern examples a desire to run through the entire spectrum or circle of knowledge in a way dictated by the internal - 82 -organization or order of this body, and not by the assumed structure of the world; encyclopaedism again becomes anti-representation. What was noted in the non-fictional encyclopaedia to be a tension only, a complication of Ideal by practice and vice-versa, becomes in the fict i o n a l text a preference for a formal or internal order of knowledge at the expense of representation. 3 .e. Formal consequences One more formal characteristic of the ficti o n a l encyclopaedia has already been mentioned, but deserves elaboration: this is i t s breaking-up of linear narrative, which nonetheless seems to remain as a base to which the work returns after i t s numerous digressions—or to which the work refers i f only i m p l i c i t l y . A delight in digressions into the nooks and crannies of knowledge, often at the expense of a story, may be the transposition into fi c t i o n of the ordering principle of the encyclopaedia, whereby discursive pieces are arranged on the basis of an order that has come to be internal to the knowledge-gathering enterprise, an order which may be alphabetic or systematic. This order is not, then, a narrative order. In the fictio n a l encyclopaedia, similarly, the internal relation of the domains of knowledge takes precedence. In Bouvard et Pecuchet, for example, each domain naturally suggests i t s e l f in it s conventional relation to a l l the others; the work often gives in to the temptation to digress into this order, to embark on a "periple encyclopedique," and to transgress the narrative Line. Perhaps the form of such a text, in addition to being thematic or systematic, also follows the episodic - 83 -order of the early epic. In the fictional encyclopaedia, such an order manifests i t s e l f in the emphasis accorded to segments of the whole at the expense of any sense of a coherent totality or completed work. Digressions and fragments f i t into this pattern, in that they are given as much emphasis, take up as much of our attention, as parts of the text more in conformity with a linear narrative. In the fictional encyclopaedia, then, a principle of order that may be called, variously, thematic or episodic (or symbolic) is constantly in tension with, and breaking into, a linear (or teleological) mode of order, with the latter nonetheless remaining operative in the text—or at least in the reader's expectations. An encyclopaedic breakdown of linearity is evident, for example, i n Dante's Commedia, where the journey-narrative is regularly interrupted by digressive commentary made by the traveller on contemporary p o l i t i c s , on the lives of friends, and on literary works and literary ancestors. In another example, the linear movement of Sollers' Paradis—linear in the sense that i t follows the continuous onrush of the voice reading aloud—is in tension with the multiplicity of vertical topics (autobiographical, p o l i t i c a l , psychoanalytic, etc.) which appear and disappear, following an Inner logic of the text, the logic which we have seen to link the domains of knowledge in the encyclopaedic Machine. Both the Commedia and Paradis, and the fict i o n a l encyclopaedia in general, are importantly concerned with evoking, or attaining to, paradisiacal states of being. Digressive or discontinuous form, then, enacts on one level the essential discontinuity of such states. - 84 -CHAPTER II FINNEGANS WAKE 1. Special problems Our task In studying Finnegans Wake w i l l be to determine how i t translates into a fictional context the equivocations basic to the knowledge-gathering enterprise of the encyclopaedia. It w i l l be useful, however, to look f i r s t at certain formal d i f f i c u l t i e s or eccentricities of the work, as a base for a discussion of fictional encyclopaedic t r a i t s . One of these eccentricities—the central use of wordplay in the form of puns, portmanteau words and combinations of these two is well known. The other involves a building of lines by an association of words which Is not free (that i s , automatic or directed by the unconscious), but rather tightly controlled by the cultural or ready-made categories of knowledge.1 These two operations, basic to the Wake, of wordplay and "automatic" metonymic expansion have implications for our discussion of fictional encyclopaedism. The presence of these processes in Finnegans Wake emphasizes the question of the nature of the knowledge dealt with in the encyclopaedic work, and the relation that the work takes to this material. Wordplay has been linked by Freud to an evasion of psychic expenditure; this evasion is linked, in the Wake, to an indiscriminate multiplication and manipulation of the categories of knowledge; wordplay and word association simultaneously work through a l l the domains of knowledge in such a way as to avoid or defer the - 85 -prescriptions of a literary Reality Principle which would edit semantic abundance and restrict any multiplication of connections among ideas. For Freud, wordplay foregrounds the principle of economy or compression; diverse materials are brought together in the smallest possible space—the word. Pleasure derives from such a "short-circuit," which is even more effective (more pleasurable) "the more alien the two 3 circles of ideas that are brought together by the same word." Rational discourse, on the other hand, emphasizes the separation between ideas. The joke performs an evasion of this principle and pleasure results. In Finnegans Wake i t is the categories of knowledge—Its subdivisions into flora and fauna, trades and sciences, theology, practical wisdom, and so on—whose disparities are overcome in the most startling juxtapositions. In the pun, for example, a similarity in the sound of two words w i l l bring together and compress widely divergent categories. Further, the portmanteau word effects such a compression via similarities in both the sound and the appearance of the words involved. Finally, word association of course expands rather than compresses significance; like the joke, nonetheless, i t presupposes an evasion of "rational" processes; semantic paradigms are actualized for their own sake and are not controlled by an over-all narrative order. Similarity of sound coupled with disparity of meaning: the joke, then, compresses a great deal into a small space. Indeed, in the context of encyclopaedism, we might say that the joke has at i t s disposal the entire circle of knowledge. It may select from any segments of the c i r c l e , and may combine widely-separated areas of - 86 -knowledge. The joke is thus potentially an encyclopaedia in miniature: in i t s overcoming of semantic incongruities via the principle of similarity of sound, i t recalls another arbitrary order—that of the alphabetic encyclopaedia. Both orders may create humour in their unexpected and often grotesque conjunctions of disparate elements of knowledge. 1 .a. The pun In Finnegans Wake there are three main mechanisms of wordplay. The f i r s t , the pun, is perceived only by the ear: a word suggests another word of similar sound but different meaning; a phrase may point to another phrase, to a snatch of song, a proverb, prayer, and so on. Thus words are hidden behind words, so to speak. This mechanism has it also been called "klang-association." The following examples demonstrate such "double talk": (Shaun the Post) Show'm the Posed: . . . the captivating youth . . . (92.13-.16) (Shem the Penman) Shun the Punman!: . . . that fenemine Parish Poser . . . (93.13-.14) (If I have not charity i t profiteth me nothing) If I hope not charity what profiteers me? Nothing! (448.22-.23) I should t e l l you that honestly, on my honour of a (Earwicker) (Wordsworth) Nearwicked, I always think in a wordworth's of that (Dante, Goethe and primed favourite continental poet, Daunty, Gouty and Shakespeare) Shopkeeper . . . (539.04-.06) - 87 -(Where the bee sucks, there suck I) . . . where the bus stops there shop I; here which ye see, yea rest. (540.15-.16) Here, the word that one reads is undeformed (or nearly so) and easily recognizable. The word evoked is not manifest in the text, but is latent, depending on the reader's memory (of this text and of other texts, of proverbs, of names, and so on) for i t s reconstruction. Words or phrases evoked function very like an intertext (in Riffaterre's sense), a body or subtext hinted at by clues in the manifest text, by slight s t y l i s t i c anomalies or other clues that signal its latent presence.5 The reader of the Wake must read this other text in between the lines of the text at hand. What results is a sort of double (or multiple) text, where the levels or parts are related by sound but are often widely divergent in meaning. The reader must proceed stereoscopically, as i t were, keeping the levels simultaneously In mind.6 The wider the separation of the punning levels, the greater the effect of humour or grotesqueness—as in the "poets" example, above, or 7 the banal version of Ariel's song. However, the pun may also be particularly just, depending on the context already established: the "Nearwicked"/Earwicker rapprochement takes its appropriateness from the myth, endlessly repeated in the novel, of Earwicker's f o l l y or F a l l . In the Wake, then, the punning text one reads is something like the most recent layer of a giant palimpsest, where earlier layers are effaced but may be summoned up by the reader's memory of context and intertext. As in the palimpsest, the relation between the layers or texts Is an arbitrary one: In the palimpsest, the connection is simply - 88 -the paper they are written on; in the pun, the connection is shared sound. In both cases, diverse meanings may be grotesquely juxtaposed. What is read beneath the manifest text is not, as in Freud's notion of the dream, an integrated other text; the palimpsestic or punning text i s not the "mutilated and altered transcript of certain rational psychical structures . . .," but is rather the playful record of structures arbitrarily brought together and bearing no rational relation among themselves. Words, phrases, proverbs, bits of song and prayer are read "beneath" the Wake via the pun; diverse categories of knowledge are evoked, but to no single great end, in no "rational" structure. "Palimpsestic" punning, then, selects from the circle of knowledge but ignores the internal or systematic order of this c i r c l e , extracting i t s elements for a new, poetic end. l.b. The portmanteau word The second important type of wordplay in Finnegans Wake is that performed by the portmanteau or composite word. Here both the ear and the eye come into play, whereas the pun, we have seen, is a purely aural phenomenon. Just as the pun as palimpsest performs a displacement, via q shared sound, from a manifest to a hidden level of sense, so the composite word involves another dream-mechanism, that of condensation.10 Here an element in the dream does the work of several elements in the dream-thoughts: ". . . an element in the dream corresponds to a nodal point or junction in the dream-thoughts, and, as compared with these la t t e r , must quite generally be described as 'overdetermined'." 1 1 Now, - 89 -in wordplay the principle of semantic overdetermination creates a preference for words "the sound of which expresses different 12 meanings. A single word may have several meanings, as, for example, when Polonius uses the multivalent "tender" in his warning to Ophelia about Hamlet: . . . Think yourself a baby That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay Which art not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly, Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phras^) Tend'ring i t thus you'll tender me a f o o l . Different words (homonyms) may have the same sound, as in the Wake's ". . . a potion a peace, a piece aportion" (397.18). Finally, composite words are constructions which compress, via their similarity in sound (and sometimes spelling), several different words into one. In Finnegans Wake, there are numerous cases of composites. For example: Terror of the noonstruck by day, cryptogam of each nightly dividable. (261.26-.27) Idle were i t . . . to inquire whether I, draggedasunder, be the forced generation of group marriage, holocrytogam . . . (546.11-.13) Here, the Letter or "mamafesta" ("holo-," "crypto-," "-gramme," "gamme") is associated with ALP and marriage. In another example: . . . erigenating from next to nothing and celescalating the himals and a l l , h i e rarchitectitiptitoploftical . . . (4.36-5.02) Referring to the Masterbuilder, Finn or man, the f i r s t term combines "celestial" and "escalating," while the second combines "hierarchical," - 90 -"architectural," "tiptop" and "lofty." Finally, we find the following: . . . t i l l light kindling light has led we hopas but hunt we the journeyon, iteritinerant, the kal his course, amid the semitary of somnionia. Even unto Heliotropolis, the castellated, the enchanting. (594.06-.09) "Iteritinerant" combines "iterate" and "itinerant" and refers to the form of the Wake's "journeyon," which proceeds by repetitions and digressions. "Heliotropolis" (combining "Helios," "heliotrope" and "metropolis") is a variant of Celestial City, a cherished goal which yet paradoxically contains i t s own evasion or turning ("trope"). Composite words are distinguished from puns or "double talk" by their evident status as neologisms. In the pun, the word recalling another is i t s e l f a familiar word; i t is not taken apart and reassembled by the process of condensation. The composite words above look unfamiliar; further, they do not recall other words latent beneath them. The words condensed in a composite word remain at the manifest level of the text; a l l may be seen, in various degrees of fragmentation and recombination, in the larger word i t s e l f . In reading puns, one reads a second text between the lines of the surface text; in processing portmanteau words, one breaks the text apart into i t s components and holds these suspended in one's mind. Relations among the components of the portmanteau word follow the same general principles operative in a l l wordplay. When the components are close in sense, the composite word is more poetically "just"; for example: " . . . most surely I pretend and reclam to opt for - 91 -simultaneous. T i l l daybowbreak and showshadows flee" (546.22-.23). Here, "daybreak" or dawn and "rainbow" share the signified "beautiful colours"; their condensation into "daybowbreak" epitomizes metaphorical "opt'ing] for simultaneous." On the other hand, when the components are far apart in sense, the composite word is humorous or even grotesque. For example, the phrase, " . . . the euphorious hagiohygiecyniclsm of his die and be diademned" (353.08), refers to the figure Butt (Shem). "Hagios" (saint) and "hygiene" are linked only by similarity of sound; their conjunction has a grotesque effect which is nonetheless in keeping with the figure of Butt—to whom "-cynicism" certainly applies. Shem's paradoxical quality is also evoked in the pun "die and be diademned" ("die and be damned"), in which the saint's "diadem" contains the devil's damnation. In these humorous portmanteau words the separation between encyclopaedic categories is overcome. Such a synthesis of the sublime and the base is also evident in puns such as "Daunty, Gouty and Shopkeeper" (539.06) already mentioned. In the pun, latent and manifest levels develop new and surprising connections with one another. Similarly, portmanteau words (especially those relying on sound-, rather than sense-, similarity) bring together, at the surface of the text, widely-divergent categories of knowledge. The study of the lives of saints and the science of health, for example, are mutually illuminated. Discontinuities among the orders of knowledge are overcome, then, in the wordplay of the Wake; such discontinuities also tend to be absorbed within the continuous syntactic onrush of the text. - 92 -Overcoming discontinuities among the parts of knowledge is a way of overcoming the Fall (Adam's, Humpty Dumpty's, etc.) informing the Wake. HCE's f o l l y — a n ironic version of original sin—prompts, not an admission of g u i l t , but rather the oxymoronic "feli x culpa" in various punning versions (for example, "felicitous culpability," p. 263.29). In certain composite words, an admission of guilt encounters an evasion of gui l t : "amenessy meeting" is "amnesia" and "amnesty meeting" in one motion (513.31); "incalpable" is both "incapable" and "culpable" (363.32). Discontinuities in the circle of knowledge function something like a metaphor of the F a l l . Joking one's way through the Encyclopaedia—overcoming i t s discontinuities in the connections of new wordplay (and consequently overcoming limitations to human knowledge)—is a way of regaining Eden or "Heliotropolis." The perfect c i r c l e — o r , better, the perfect map—of knowledge, where each part connects with a l l the other parts, is of course a virt u a l i t y only; i t is a figure i f not of original innocence, then at least of redemption. The Wake's puns and composites, which maximize connections among the parts of knowledge, attempt to trace this figure. I.e. Punning portmanteau words The third major kind of wordplay in Finnegans Wake combines the traits of the other two to produce composite words that are also punning words. This is by far the most common type of wordplay in the Wake. For example: - 93 -Silence was in thy faustive ha l l s , 0 Truiga, when thy green woods went dry but there w i l l be sounds of manymirth on the night's ear ringing when our pantriarch of Comestowntonobble gets the pullover on his boots. (74.09-.12) Here, in the neologism "faustive," "Faust" both combines with and recalls (sounds like) "feast" or "festive"; similarly, "pantry" and "patriarch" merge in an apt characterization of HCE. "Comestowntonobble" recalls "Constantinople" and "comes down to nothing"; such punning combines with "to nobble," a dishonest practice. Thus the patriarch of Constantinople in his festive halls f a l l s (Faust-like) and becomes the petty lord of a pantry; both senses are contained in the punning composites, above. Let us look at a few more examples: 80.25 . . . the obluvial waters of our noarchic memory withdrew . . . 367.29-.30 . . . the bounds whereinbourne our solied bodies a l l attorned attain arrest . . . 553.19-.20 . . . I fenced i t about with huge chesterfield elms and Kentish hops and rigs of barlow and bowery nooks and greenwished v i l l a s . . . "Obluvial" is a composite of "oblivion" and "a l l u v i a l , " with "obluvial waters" recalling "alluvial waters" and "waters of oblivion" (in keeping with our "noarchic memory" of the Flood). "Solied bodies" combines "sullied bodies" with "solid" and "soul." "Greenwished v i l l a s " combines "Greenwich Village" and the pastoral image "whitewashed v i l l a s " with a paradisiacal "green wish" (recalling Marvell's "green thought" in "The - 94 -Garden"), the whole according with the garden context of "bowery nooks." In the punning portmanteau word, there is a balance of the familiar and the unfamiliar: the recollection of a familiar word ("festive," "patriarch") is accomplished by the unfamiliar conjunction of two or more words ("Faust"/"festive," "pantry"/"patriarch"). This type of wordplay is actually two types of joke in one: the reader has the pleasure of both deciphering the "double talk," the words beneath the words, as well as breaking the words apart and testing their relations. This double economy—in which disparate elements are connected twice over—characterizes most of the wordplay in the Wake. Wordplay, then, in general involves the interplay of familiar and novel elements. In the pun, familiar elements are linked (via similarity of sound) in novel ways; i t is the conjunction of elements, in themselves familiar, which Is unfamiliar. In the composite construction, familiar elements are condensed into novel combinations. Thus, the composite word that also puns on other words enacts a dual discovery of familiarity in strangeness, sameness in difference. This discovery is also what constitutes the experience of repetition: 1 5 the Wake is thus one of the most repetitive texts written as well as one of the most anomalous. In the over-all movement of the text, lexical neologism is balanced by syntactic f a m i l i a r i t y ;1 6 the text as a whole thus demonstrates the movement of repetition which is found in a nutshell in each instance of wordplay. It is not surprising, then, that the punning composite—a type of wordplay enacting a double or multiple discovery of familiarity In novelty—should be so ubiquitous in the Wake. - 95 -1.d. Lexical chains In Finnegans Wake the phenomenon of word association, which works through the semantic pathways of the language, Is a necessary counterpart to the practice of wordplay. Word association is linked to wordplay in the same way that metonymy or contiguity is inseparable, i n . the code, from metaphor or substitution: "L'imagination n'aurait pas l a capacite d'inventer (ou de reconnaitre) une metaphore si la culture, sous la forme d'une structure possible du systeme semantique global, ne l u i fournissait le reseau sous-jacent des contiguites arbitrairement stipulees."1 7 Wordplay, then, is a form of metaphor-making. In the Wake, the pun as "double-talk" involves a semantic short-circuit, a bringing-together of two or more diverse areas of sense, one latent, the other manifest; the composite word also involves this juxtaposition of incongruous meanings as manifest In the word on the page. The basis for both types of metaphorical rapprochement (or recognition) is either a phonetic or a semantic similarity. Eco has shown, however, that in the case of the metaphor, what looks like an analogical relation turns out to be, at base, a relation of contiguity already established within the cultural network, language or code. He has shown how a pun in the Wake, such as, for example, "meandertale" (18.22), is formed by a clustering of words around an i n i t i a l word, "Neanderthal," to which they are 18 related by a phonetic contiguity. Thus wordplay, in the Wake, i s based on conventional word associations as much as i t is on the perception of new resemblances. A metaphorical substitution or - 96 -short-circuit is based on the previous establishment of a metonymic network, a l i s t of possibilities for metaphoric substitution related among themselves by phonetic and semantic contiguity. In deciphering Joyce's wordplay, we recapitulate this process, work backward through i t . Word association—normally, then, a process of the linguistic unconscious—is pursued in the text of the Wake alongside the wordplay i t normally underpins. The associative chains of the Wake rely on a network, noted above, of semantic relations; these chains suggest that a knowledge of things in themselves is actually a knowledge of relations, of the classes of things, of their kinds. Let us look at an example of such word association. Here, the reader moves along a chain of semantic equivalents. As J.-M. Rabate notes: "Un element suffit pour de*clencher une reaction en chalne, et aimanter les autres elements d'un groupe latent."1 9 — F a i t h , then, Meesta Cheeryman, f i r s t he come up, a gag as a gig, badgeler's rake to the town's major from the wesz, MacSmashall Swingy of the Cattelaxes, got up regardless, with a cock on the Kildare side of his Tattersull, in his riddlesneek's ragamufflers and the horrid contrivance as seen above, whisklyng into a bone tolerably delicately, the Wearing of the Blue, and taking off his plushkwadded bugsby in his perusual flea and loisy manner, saying good mrowkas to weevilybolly and dragging his feet in the usual course and was ever so terribly naas, really, telling him clean his nagles and fex himself up, Miles, and so on and so fort , and to take the coocoomb to his grizzlies and who done that foxy freak on his bear's hairs like f i r e bursting out of the Ump pyre and, half hang me, s i r r , i f he wasn't wanting his calicub body back before he'd to take his l i f e or so save his l i f e . Then, begor, counting as many as eleven to thritytwo seconds with his pocket browning, like I said, wann swanns wann, this is my awethorrorty, he kept forecursing hascupth's foul - 97 -Fanden, Cogan, for coaccoackey the key of John Dunn's fi e l d fore i t was for sent and the way Montague was robbed and wolfllng to know a l l what went off . . . (516.03-.22) Here, one animal is named—"badgeler" or badger—and this naming initiates a lexical "chain reaction." A number of animal words, members of the latent paradigm or l i s t of a l l such words in the language, enter the text by virtue of their association with the i n i t i a t i n g word: "Cattelaxes" (cattle), "cock," "grizzlies," "foxy," "bear's hairs," "calicub" (bear cub), "wolfling." An insect chain breaks off from the animal one and develops within the larger animal context: "bugsby," "flea and loisy" "weevilybolly," "cocoomb." We can see from such terms as "flea and loisy" and "weevilybolly" that " f l e a " , "louse" and "boll weevil" do not add themselves to the chain of insect equivalents simply because they are insects. If this were the case, any insect—ant, cockroach, etc.—would do. The terms that are actually selected and used are those that have, beyond their semantic association with the insect paradigm, a phonetic contiguity with words in common syntactic constructions, in cliched phrases ("free and easy manner," "good morrow to everybody"). Resulting from this phonetic contiguity are the punning expressions, "flea and loisy manner" and "good mrowkas to weevilybolly." Word association is not, then, the same thing as psychic automatism. The drive to scan the paradigm or encyclopaedic category and expand, from an i n i t i a l element, into a chain of equivalents is consciously controlled, in the fictional text, by theme and character requirements, by syntactic rhythms and by intertextual factors (interference by proverbs, cliches, song-titles, etc.). - 98 -There are yet two other lexical chains in the passage above. A haberdashery/dandy chain has been developed prior to this point, and is continued in "rake," "Tattersull" (tatters/Tattersall check tweed), "ragamufflers" (ragamuffin, muffler), "Wearing of the Blue," "plushkwadded bugsby," "clean his nagles," "fex himself up," "coocoomb" (comb), "calicub" (calico). This chain is associated with Earwicker, whose voice comes to dominate the end of this chapter (Book III, Chapter i i i ) ; HCE is commonly characterized in terms of outlandish costumes. There is also a literary chain, a series of authors' names or book-titles developing out of "pocket browning": "wann swanns wann" (Swann's Way), "Fanden" (Fagan?), "John Dunn" (Donne), "Montague" (Montaigne). This series might actually begin with "Cattelaxes," which looks, and somewhat sounds, like Swann's and Odette's "cattleyas"; and 20 i t also recalls the Irish epic, The Cattle-raid at Cooley. A l l the chains (animals, insects, haberdashery, literature) intersect at certain nodal points, in terms such as "calicub," "coocoomb," "Tattersull" (Tattersall Is also a horse-betting firm), "bugsby" (busby hat) and "pocket browning" (recalling "pocket watch" in the haberdashery context). Lexical expansion in the Wake is thus never simple or linear; i t i s , rather, multidimensional, owing to the ubiquitous wordplay by means of which two or more chains may meet in a single word. Lexical chaining is also, and most importantly, not free association, not a form of psychic automatism. In i t , instead, a free semantic scanning is interrupted by the pressure of context and intertext, resulting in very conscious lexical selections that s t i l l - 99 -satisfy the impulse to write l i s t s . 2. Problems of totalization A central problem in the nature of the encyclopaedic enterprise is the totalization paradox: the encyclopaedia, in i t s drive to include the totality of things known, engages in practices (continuous revision, publication of supplements and new editions) which betray the actual impossibility of such a total inclusion. Translated into f i c t i o n , this means that the book achieves an inclusion of many domains of knowledge, while nonetheless betraying a sense of the virtu a l i t y of any totalization of knowledge. This "wariness" often works i t s e l f out in a parodic treatment of totalizing or encyclopaedic systems, works or authors. It is also manifested, in the opposite direction, in the book's nostalgic play with images of completion, fullness, such images being nonetheless subject to play, to the insistent repetitions and digressions of the text. Finnegans Wake takes the fictional encyclopaedia's ironic attitude toward knowledge—and yet a search for knowledge is at the very center of i t s endeavour. In the pages to follow I w i l l consider the nature of the Wake's treatment of knowledge and of the possibility of Its totalization. The work's heterogeneous inclusion of many domains of knowledge is achieved through the functioning of certain modes of inclusion. Nonetheless, the work retains a c r i t i c a l attitude towards such inclusion, as indicated in its parodic imitation of the encyclopaedic systems or philosophies of Vico and Bruno. My second - 100 -major consideration w i l l be the way in which certain images in the Wake—the rainbow, the musical scale, the alphabet—suggest circularity and completion, with their insistance in the text betraying a certain nostalgia for these qualities. Such images are repeated in the synthetic play of Wakean language i t s e l f , and yet they are also belied by the digressions and repetitions of the narrative. 2.a. Modes of inclusion Finnegans Wake, as ficti o n a l encyclopaedia, refers to many domains of knowledge, to a multitude of odd facts and names and items. As the basic narrative kernels—HCE's indiscretions in the Park, his persecution and resurrection, plus the tales of Tristan and Isolde, Jacob and Esau, and so on—are repeated endlessly and in various permutations, elements of human knowledge are drawn into the text in a seemingly all-encompassing centripetal movement. The medium of this inclusion i s , of course, the language of the Wake: the omnipresent puns and portmanteau words are the means whereby several categories of knowledge may be drawn, or collapsed, together; further, lexical chains work through such categories metonymically—and theoretically endlessly—in the aspiration to name an i n f i n i t y of things known. Often the Wake's forays into the circle of knowledge seem to be at odds with i t s narratives. It Is as much a reference work as i t is a story. And yet as a fictional work, the Wake has a different intent and draws on a different tradition and set of expectations than does the non-fictional encyclopaedia. The criterion of objective truth, by which - 101 -the latter is judged, is suspended in the former. Inclusion of a l l knowledge is not the only goal of the Wake; i t is linked with a concern for the t e l l i n g , and retelling endlessly, of the F a l l . The Wake as fictional encyclopaedia is the scene, then, of an interplay between narrative and encyclopaedic digression. The tension between tale and reference work is resolved, in the Wake, in two different ways. Encyclopaedic digression may have an arbitrary shape imposed upon i t , a shape deriving from certain conventions—such as the epic l i s t — e x t e r n a l to i t but in sympathy with i t . Within these boundaries, such knowledge is free to expand and digress according to i t s own categories, independently of the narrative. Alternatively, certain domains of knowledge may be called into play, usually by some aspect of one of the characters, which from then on are permitted to follow their own inner logic, converging and diverging among themselves in ways that illuminate the f i c t i o n . The f i r s t arrangement, we shall see, is external to the fic t i o n ; the second is directed by the f i c t i o n . 2„a.i. External modes of Inclusion The two main external orders imposed, in the Wake, on the mass of material to be known are those of the catechism and the l i s t . (Others include the children's rhyme—for example, "The House that Jack Built," p. 580.26-.36—and the proverb, p. 579.10-.25). In Book I, Chapter 6 of the novel, both the catechism and the l i s t are extensively used: one question may evoke a l i s t as i t s answer (no. 4); another question, i t s e l f including a long l i s t , may evoke a short answer (no. l ) . ^x This - 102 -chapter i s , accordingly, a good example of a fixed order or framework supporting and generating a mass of elements of knowledge (such an order being used as well in Ulysses, i n , for example, the questions and answers of "Ithaca"). Lists are to be found at other points in the Wake: there are, for example, the l i s t s naming HCE (pp. 71-2) and naming ALP's Letter (pp. 104-7). This use of an arbitrary order to generate a multitude of elements of knowledge also recalls Lautreamont's and the Surrealists' practice of using a fixed structure such as the "beau comme" or epic simile to generate a great number of disparate 22 items of knowledge. Paradoxically, in the Wakean l i s t as in the surrealist metaphor, the more rigid or conventional the external framework, the more freedom there is for inclusion of, and expansion upon, elements of knowledge. (In realist narrative and metaphor, on the other hand, where a more elastic form responds more to demands of verisimilitude, the inclusion and expansion of encyclopaedic categories is s t r i c t l y limited.) Let us see the sort of encyclopaedic diversity the question and l i s t forms encourage, taking as our f i r s t example parts of the f i r s t question in Book I, Chapter 6, and its answer: 1. What secondtonone myther rector and maximost bridgesmaker was the f i r s t to rise t a l l e r through his beanstale than the bluegum buaboababbaun or the giganteous Wellingtonia Sequoia; went nudiboots with trouters into a liffeyette when she was barely in her tr i c k l i e s ; . . . thought he weighed a new ton when there felled his f i r s t lapapple; . . like a heptagon crystal emprisoms trues and fauss for us; . . . is escapemaster-in-chief from a l l sorts of houdingplaces; . . . from zoomorphology to omnianimalism he is brooched by the spin of a coin; towers, an eddistoon amid the lampless, casting - 103 -swannbeams on the deep; threatens thunder upon malefactors and sends whispers up fraufrau's froufrous; . . . arches a l l portcullised and his nave dates from dots; . . . hock is leading, cocoa comes next, emery tries for the flag; . . . is a simultaneous equator of elimbinated integras when three upon one is by inspection improper; . . . [etc.] Answer: Finn MacCool! (126.22-131.33) Here, a question involving a long l i s t of attributes (extending over a number of pages) receives a short answer, the name at the base of the book. The attributes of Finn or HCE are piled up, as each segment of the l i s t makes a fresh attempt to pose the riddle of the Father's nature and power. Each segment appears to be independent of those segments preceding i t ; each draws upon a different f i e l d of knowledge. Vertically, then, in i t s relation to culture and encyclopaedic paradigms, the l i s t is composed of discrete elements. Horizontally, however, the l i s t overcomes the gulfs separating these elements. The over-all effect of this, for the reader, is one of straddling, Gulliver-like, the gulfs separating the miniaturized domains of knowledge (an effect similar to that experienced when reading consecutively the articles of an alphabetic encyclopaedia). So, consecutively, this passage scans the circ l e of knowledge and casts up the following: the mythical giants at the beginning of the world and Vico's theory of origins, plus Ibsen's Masterbuilder ("which . . . maximost bridgesmaker was the f i r s t to rise t a l l e r through his beanstale . . . " ) ; myths and fairy tales ("myther rector," "beanstale" or "Jack and the Beanstalk"); botany, or trees—especially large ones - 104 -i ("buaboababbaun" suggests the baobab tree, while the Sequoia is a giant 23 evergreen); the Wellington Monument or obelisk in Phoenix Park ("Wellingtonia," "towers" in line 31); trout-fishing ("went nudiboots with trouters"); Dublin geography, or the River Liffey ("liffeyette"); Newton's discovery of the law of gravity ("thought he weighed a new ton when there felled his f i r s t lapapple"); Genesis and the eating of the frui t ("first lapapple"); the sciences of optics ("crystal emprisoms" or the prism) and of geometry ("heptagon"); Houdini and the art of magical escapes ("escapemaster-in-chief . . . houdingplaces"); zoomorphism or the creation of gods in animal form, plus animal morphology ("zoomorphology"); animism and pantheism ("omnianimalism"); Thomas Edison and the invention of the incandescent lamp ("eddistoon amid the lampless"), plus Swann's Way and the famous magic lantern (" . . . casting swannbeams on the deep"); Jove the thunderer and Vico's version of the beginning of human history ("threatens thunder upon malefactors"); architecture, especially medieval ("arches a l l portcullised"); drinks and horse racing (" . . . hock is leading, cocoa comes next . . . " ) ; mathematics ("equator . . . integras"). At this point, the reader has lost any sense of reading a question; each new digression into the Encyclopaedia leads further away from a conventional question-and-answer structure. Thus, when an answer is fi n a l l y reached ("Finn MacCool!") i t f a l l s a l i t t l e f l a t . The emphasis, of course, has been not on reaching an answer, but on the elaboration of the question. The l i s t , in i t s heterogeneous composition, is the ideal form to use for encyclopaedic digression. The catechism, as well, rests on the - 105 -question of knowledge, the naming and retrieval of i t s elements. These forms are pedagogical and may even function as markers of encyclopaedism in a literary text; yet they are neutral with respect to the actual elements of knowledge evoked. These forms also function in the fi c t i o n to intensify the representation of character and myth in the Wake. Such representation is at work in the passage examined above. Each item in the l i s t simultaneously refers to a fragment of cultural knowledge and to the central themes and character configurations in the Wake. For example, " . . . is a simultaneous equator of elimbinated integras when three upon one is by inspection improper" refers as much to the narrative kernel of HCE's impropriety in the Park, with i t s repeated numerical configuration of three/two/one, as i t does to mathematics. The resonance of each segment in the l i s t i s , then, both vertical and horizontal, both cultural (intertextual) and narrative (contextual). The tendency with the l i s t s in the Wake, however, is to emphasize the categories of knowledge over the narrative material; this, because i t Is so simple and so often repeated, offers l i t t l e ballast to the reader to counteract a dizzying journey through the categories of the 24 Encyclopaedia. In another example—a l i s t of the attributes of HCE, in the form of abusive names that have been given him—we see a similar tension between intertext and context, between the categories of knowledge and the character traits and exploits of HCE. This time the making of l i s t s Is thematized, while abuse gets the upper hand over encyclopaedic allusion: "Earwicker, that patternmind, that paradigmatic ear . . . - 106 -compiled . . . a long l i s t (now feared in part lost) to be kept on f i l e of a l l abusive names he was called Old Fruit, Yellow Whigger, . . . Yass We've Had His Badannas, . . . Cainandabler, . . . Ireland's Eighth Wonderful Wonder, . . . Hebdromadary Publocation, . . . Magogagog, . . . Gouty Ghibeline, . . . Scuttle to Cover, . . . Edomite, . . . Bad Humborg . . .," etc. (pp. 70-2). The reader, lending a "paradigmatic ear" to the text, encounters the following allusions in the epithets: Genesis, and Adam's eating of the forbidden f r u i t ; the Whig or English Liberal party along with the earwig (HCE); the popular song, "Yes, We Have No Bananas"; Genesis, and the conflict of Cain and Abel; the Seven Wonders of the World—plus one; zoology (the dromedary) and numbers (hebdomad, the group of seven so important in the Wake); a pub's location and the activity of publication; the Book of Revelation, and the nations of Gog and Magog warring against God; medieval Italian p o l i t i c s , and the ri v a l factions of the Guelphs and the Ghibellines; Vico's notion of the origin of the family in the "scuttling to cover" of wild men under the thunder of Jove; the Bible, and the distance travelled betwen Eden and Sodom; German c i t i e s . These references exist within a context of abuse ("Old Fruit," "Yellow . . . ," "Scuttle to Cover"); they add another layer of meaning to this abuse. A similar double movement is to be found in the l i s t of names for ALP's Letter or the "mamafesta." A plunge into the Encyclopaedia is balanced by references to the surface context of letters, literature, and ALP's relations with HCE. To take just a few of these t i t l e s : " . . . Rebus de Hibernicis, The Crazier Letters, . . . For Ark see - 107 -Zoo, . . . Try our Taal on a Taub, The Log of Anny to the Base A l l , . . . Abe to Sare Stood Icyk Neuter t i l l Brahm Taulked Him Common Sex . . . ," etc. (pp. 104-106). "Rebus" suggests Freud's theory of the dream-work, while "Hibernicis" emphasizes this sleepy activity as well as referring to Hibernia or Ireland. There is also the Book of Genesis, with Noah and his ark; Swift's Tale of a Tub and The Drapier's Letters ("the Crazier Letters"); mathematics, and in particular logarithms; Abraham and Sarah, Isaac Newton, Johannes Brahms. The discontinuities of this vertical or "paradigmatic" array of items contrasts with the continuities established by a contextual (or "syntagmatic") reading of the l i s t , in which meanings relevant to ALP and her Letter are common to a l l the elements of the l i s t . So, "rebus" is a picture-writing; "The Crazier Letters" suggests ALP's Letter and it s motley, eccentric aspect; "For Ark see Zoo" suggests the cross-referencing found in an encyclopaedia, and also refers to the totality of the alphabet, A-Z, and 25 further the zoo in Phoenix Park ; and Swift's digressive and heterogeneous Tale is an apt metaphor for the hen's Letter. Thus the l i s t s in the Wake e l i c i t a double or palimpsestic reading, balancing paradigm (intertext) and context. This double movement, of course, constitutes reading in general; however, reading a fic t i o n a l l i s t emphasizes this experience. Discontinuities between the elements of the l i s t emphasize the heterogeneity of the elements of knowledge. There may be a discrepancy between the fictional context and the knowledge paradigms referred to, as in the case of the l i s t of abusive names; there may, however, be points of contact between context - 108 -and paradigm, as in the "mamafesta" l i s t above. The l i s t , like the catechism, is thus an external order shaping the multiple narratives of Finnegans Wake. The associations of these orders with pedagogical practice means that they function as a shorthand for encyclopaedism; paratactlcal tools, they break open the text to receive encyclopaedic 26 expansions. The l i s t of famous names in the margin of pp. 306-8 is an extreme example of this emphasis occuring in the appropriate context of the lesson notebook. 2.a.ii Internal modes of inclusion A second mechanism of encyclopaedic inclusion is also at work in Finnegans Wake. Here, character and theme determine the selection and inclusion of the elements of knowledge. Character and theme, that i s , often appear to determine which elements of the Encyclopaedia surface in the text; they appear to put some brake on an indiscriminate expansion of these elements, channelling such expansion into appropriate paths. Several of these "paths" or lexical series may be found in a single passage and may lend themselves to the evocation of character or the development of theme. They may converge or diverge, reinforce or undermine one another. Two examples of this more "intrinsic" mechanism of encyclopaedic inclusion are the Butt and Taff episode (Book I I , Chapter i i i ) and the portrait of Shaun the Post (Book III, Chapter i ) . Owing to the length of these passages, my citations w i l l be very inadequate, merely suggesting an over-all "channelling" movement. Butt and Taff are one pair in a series of pairs of warring - 109 -twins. Like Shaun, Taff pounces upon everything that Butt/Shem says, abusing his twin and discounting his words: "The lyewdsky so so sewn of a fitchid . . . his boney bogey braggs." (340.02-.03). Butt the trickster springs back easily, continuing his insinuations as to the Father's misdoings in the Park: "With guerillaman aspear aspoor to the prink the pranks of primkissies. And the buddies behide in the byre . . ." (340.10-12). This conflict between the twins is repeated, at the formal l e v e l , in the dialogue form taken by the text; dialogue is a kind of institutionalized conflict undertaken for the positive end of knowledge of the truth. And so both Butt and Taff merge in the end, "by 2 7 the coincidence of their contraries reamalgamerge" into one ambiguous figure cowering in fear of the thundering Father, "Old Erssia's magisquammythical mulattomilitiaman" (354.10). The conflict of Butt and Taff, repeated in the dialogue form and in the conflict of Buckley and the Russian General being discussed, is also worked out at the level of word-formation. That i s , the theme of conflict or war determines the selections that are made from the Encyclopaedia, determines what categories w i l l be opened up and developed. It is clear in this episode that the art of war—and the related domains of weaponry, history of war, and so on—dominate the lexical selections in this passage and are responsible for the turns of the wordplay. Any other categories of knowledge evoked are subordinated to these dominant areas and enter into resonance with them. For example: - 110 -BUTT (at the signal of his act which seems to sharpnel his innermals menody, playing the spool of the l i t t l e brown jog round the wheel of her whang goes the millner). Buckily buckily, blodestained boyne! Bimbambombumb. His snapper was shot in the Rumjar Journaral. Why the gigls he lubbed beeyed him. TAFF (obliges with a two stop yogacogasumphoty on the bones for ivory g i r l and ebony boy). The balacleivka! Trovatarovitch! I trumble! BUTT (with the sickle of a scygthe but the humour of a hummer, 0, howorodies through his cholaroguled, fumfing to a fullfrength with this wallowing ol f a c t ) . Mortar martar tartar wartar! May his boules grow wider so his skittles gets worse! The aged monad making a venture out of the murder of investment. I seen him acting surgent what betwinks the scimitar star and the ashen moon. By their lights shalthow throw him! Piff paff for puffpuff and my pife for his cgar! The mlachy way for gambling . . . (341. 03-.17) War and weaponry semes are being expanded in the following selections: "sharpnel" (shrapnel) "his innermals" (inner pain or wound); "Buckily" (Buckley, the foe of the Russian General, these two being another warring pair in the Wake); "blodestained boyne" 29 (bloodstained boy and Battle of the Boyne ); "bimbam . . ." (a bomb); "shot in the Rumjar Journaral" (the shooting of the Russian General); 30 "balacleivka" (Battle of Balaclava , balaclava helmet, balalaika); "sickle" and "hummer" (weapons, also Soviet symbols); "scygthe" (scythe, another weapon); mortar f i r e ; martyrs; Tartars; war; murder; "acting surgent" (acting sargeant, insurgent); scimitar. A Russian theme, developed in the selections above, ties in with that of war: the Russian elements that appear are linked to the Russian Revolution ("my pife for his cgar") or to the tale of Buckley and the Russian General. While the Russian and the warring strands reinforce one another in the above passage, other themes surface which appear to contrast with - I l l -these. The art of music, for instance, is suggested by "menody" (melody, threnody), " l i t t l e brown jog" (the popular song " L i t t l e Brown Jug"), "playing the spool" (playing the spoons), "two stop . . . somphoty" (two step, symphony), "ivory g i r l and ebony boy" (piano keys), "balacleivka" (Russian balalaika),"pife" ( f i f e , a military f l u t e ) . Popular games, further, are suggested by "boules" and "skittles" and "gambling." Musical and ludic strands do not, however, remain untouched in the predominantly Russian/military mode of the Butt and Taff debate: the balalaika links the musical and the Russian themes; the f i f e is both military and musical. In something like the process of condensation noted by Freud in the dream, the Wakean text condenses, in items such as the f i f e and the balalaika, several pathways developed from the Encyclopaedia, which is the repository of a l l those pathways that could be taken, a l l those items that could be selected but are not—owing to the particular pathways or selections demanded by Butt and Taff's sparring dialogue. Even musical and ludic paths, then, are not superfluous here. The dialogue form, especially the Wakean sort in which characters do not talk to one another but carry on something like two monologues, is analogous to musical counterpoint; the two speakers, again, are two players in a kind of game. The warring twins, then, provide a shape for encyclopaedic expansion in Finnegans Wake, limit i t to paths that more or less reinforce a character configuration of aggressor and defender. Another case of such intrinsic control on expansion involves the character of Shaun and i t s evocation in Book III, Chapter I. In this chapter, a - 112 -number of strands determined by the Shaun character run alongside one another—often with hilarious effect—and sometimes converge (or become condensed, above) in certain words. To take a few examples from a very lengthy text: . . . and the damasker's overshirt he sported inside, a starspangled zephyr with a decidedly surpliced crinklydoodle front with his motto through dear l i f e embrothred over i t in peas, r i c e , and yeggy-yolk, Or for royal, Am for Mail, R.M.D. hard cash on the nail and the most successfully carried gigot turnups . . . breaking over the ankle and hugging the shoeheel, everything the best—none other from (Ah, then may the turtle's blessings of God and Mary and Haggispatrick and Huggisbrigid be souptumbling a l l over him!) other than (and may his hundred thousand welcome stewed letters, relayed wand postchased, multiply, ay f a i t h , and plultiply!) Shaun himself. (404.27-405.02) —Goodbye now, Shaun replied, with a voice pure as a churchmode, in echo rightdainty, with a good catlick tug at his cocomoss candylock, a foretaste in time of his cabbageous brain's curlyflower. Athiacaro! . . . How are them columbuses! Lard have mustard on them! . . . Poumeerme! My heaviest crux and dairy lot i t i s , with a bed as hard as the thinkamuddles of the Greeks and a board as bare as a Roman altar. (409.11-.19) The character Shaun is a dandy and a "gourmand"; he fancies himself as a singer and, at other points, as a writer to ri v a l his brother Shem (" . . .my trifolium l i b r o t t o , the authordux Book of L i e f , would, i f given to daylight . . . far exceed what that bogus bolshy of a shame, my soamheis brother . . . is conversant with in audible black and prink," 425.20-.24). Shaun is also a postman carrying Shem's Letter, and he is Christ Himself in His perambulations ("salve a tour, ambly - 113 -andy", 409.31). The text accordingly draws from, and expands metonymically, the domains of haberdashery, cookery, music, the postal service and religion. In "damasker" (damask), "overshirt," "surpliced" (surplice), "embrothred" (embroidered), "turnups" (trouser cuffs), a haberdashery strand is developed. A surplice i s , in addition, a garment of the Roman Catholic or Anglican clergy. "Surpliced", then, is the point of intersection of two series—those of clothing and religion. The latter series of Shaun as Christ is developed in "God and Mary and Haggispatrick" ("hagios" or Saint Patrick as well as Scottish haggis), "pure as a churchmode" (poor as a churchmouse, pure In the church manner), "catlick" (Catholic), "heaviest crux" (heaviest cross to bear), etc. The "haggis"/"hagios" pun is likewise a point of intersection of the religious and culinary domains, an intersection fundamental to the Roman Catholic Church in the rit u a l of Communion. A culinary theme is developed in "peas, r i c e , and yeggy-yolk," "gigot" (French for a joint of meat and slang for a man's leg), "turnups" (turnips, and also trouser cuffs, above), "Haggis", "soup-tumbling," "stewed letters", "cabbageous" and "curlyflower" (cabbage and cauliflower), "Lard have mustard" (Lord have mercy . . . ) , "my . . . dairy lot," "board" (as in room and board), etc. Music is developed in the song-titles "starspangled zephyr" ("Starspangled Banner") and "crinkleydoodle ("Yankee Doodle") and "Athiacaro" 31 (Bellini's "A te o cara"). The wandering postman theme is developed in "Or for royal, Am for Mail," "letters," "relayed," "postchased" (postchaise, posthaste), and "columbuses" (messenger pigeons, Columbus - 114 -the explorer). Sometimes the conjuction of two strands—say, haberdashery and food—in one word or phrase creates an amusing effect of a l i t e r a l or physical proximity, as in the culinary embroidery (food stains) on Shaun's front. Shaun as a character seems to draw the most widely-separated themes together, thus drawing the reader through diverse domains of the Encyclopaedia. This mode of encyclopaedic inclusion, where contrasting strands are played against one another to humourous effect (as opposed to the subordinating order noted in the Butt and Taff episode), is analogous to the practice of 32 joke-formation , with the qualification that i t is not collapsing domains of knowledge into a single word, but rather over an extended passage. 2.b. Imitation of l i t e r a r y modes and forms In thinking, earlier, about a literary encyclopaedic mode, we suggested that i t has something to do with a sweeping inclusion and imitation of the other literary modes (mimetic and didactic), of the particular forms or genres in which these modes work themselves out, and of the styles which, within a particular genre, are the mark of an age or an author. We have called Finnegans Wake a fictional encyclopaedia because in It such an all-inclusive mode is operative and, indeed, dominant. In the Wake, in other words, i t is not only the domains of knowledge, the entries in the Encyclopaedia, that are drawn into the orbit of each page and worked out or expanded there; i t is also the literary modes, forms and styles that are included there. For - 115 -example, the literary mode of dramatic presentation is frequently imitated—and, in this imitation, is parodied. The interchanges of Jute and Mutt (pp. 16-18), Taff and Butt (pp. 338-354), the Mookse and the Gripes (pp. 152-157), and the Four Old Men (pp. 477-554, with the intervention of HCE) are in this mode. They parody the mode of direct representation of speech in their undermining, via wordplay, of clear speech i t s e l f , and in the fact that the players do not really communicate with one another, but rather pick up each other's puns and pursue chains of lexical association: Jute.—But you are not jeffmute? Mutt.—Noho. Only an utterer. Jute.—Whoa? Whoat is the mutter with you? Mutt.—I became a stun a stummer. Jute.—What a hauhauhauhaudibble thing . . . (16.14-.18) The l y r i c a l mode is also imitated in the Wake. In this mode (equivalent to Jakobson's "poetic function"), formal regularities in the form of rhyme, repetition of words, assonance and alliteration are foregrounded over a matter told or a speech represented. For example, at the end of the washerwomen's gossip sequence (Book I, Chapter 8) we find the speaker turning into a tree and fading into the night: Can't hear with the waters of. The chittering waters of. Flittering bats, fieldmice bawk talk. Ho! Are you not gone ahome? What Thorn Malone? Can't hear with bawk of bats, a l l thim lif f e y i n g waters of. Ho, talk save us! My foos won't moos. I feel as old as yonder elm. A tale told of Shaun or Shem? A l l Livia's - 116 -daughtersons. Dark hawks hear us. Night! Night! My ho head h a l l s . I feel as heavy as yonder stone. Tell me of John or Shaun? Who were Shem and Shaun the living sons or daughters of? Night now! Tell me, t e l l me, t e l l me, elm! Night night! Telmetale of stem or stone. Beside the rivering waters of, hitherandthithering waters of. Night! (215.31-216.05) As the Wake parodies the dramatic mode by twisting i t into a purely formal interplay or word association, so i t emphasizes the regularities of the l y r i c mode, formal from the start, to an almost hypnotic extent, to the point where lyricism becomes self-parody. The washerwoman's words imitate or recall not nature, but other words—rhymed verses, songs, incantations. Instead of direct or "pure" lyricism, what we have is lyricism at a certain remove, at "second hand." Encyclopaedic imitation, then, is a mimesis of a mimesis; in this gesture, lyricism becomes self-reflexive and parodic. Didactic and narrative (or epic) modes are also often imitated in Finnegans Wake. The didactic mode is represented and parodied in the analysis of the hen's Letter, pp. 107-125. An example of epic narration is the following passage on HCE and Anna Livia: For they met and mated and bedded and buckled and got and gave and reared and raised . . . and planted and plundered and pawned our souls . . . and fought and feigned with strained relations and bequeathed us their i l l s and recrutched cripples gait and undermined lungachers . . . and tried to mingle and managed to save and feathered foes' nests and fouled their own . . . and rolled oiled logs into Peter's sawyery and werfed new woodcuts on Paoli's wharf and ewesed Rachel's lea and rammed Dominic's gap . . . (579.27-580.06) Just as lyricism turns into l y r i c parody in an excessive emphasis on the formal regularity at the base of the mode, so the imitation, above, of - 117 -narration (in the epic or chronicle vein) involves a self-parody, a narration at "second hand." Here as before parody involves the use of overkill or excess, and the foregrounding of formal regularities over any matter imitated. The passage above multiplies to excess the word "and"—the conjunction normally ensuring the proper flow of a narration. This use of polysyndeton is a sign of self-consciousness, a sign that, besides telling a tale, the passage is imitating telling in general (in its essential form of statements following one another consecutively). Further, the alliterations of the passage ("planted and plundered," etc.) direct attention away from the matter narrated, focusing i t , rather, on the formal or poetic nature of the language. The word-associations of "feathered . . . fouled" (feathers, foul or birds), "logs . . . woodcuts," "ewesed . . . rammed" (ewe, ram) are also evidence of a foregrounding of formal regularity at the expense of contextual sense; such word-associations involve the expansion of categories of knowledge, the scanning of paradigmatic catalogues, in a vertical movement interfering with horizontal or linear narration. As a fictional encyclopaedia, Finnegans Wake also imitates various literary forms or genres, and in this imitation parodies them. In this imitation, the forms are appropriated and retained in the text, while being used for ends quite different from, or opposing, those 33 usually associated with them. Parody of forms In the Wake also seems to involve the coexistence of recognizable forms with unrecognizable language. In fact, the perception of parody might in general be seen to - 118 -consist in a recognition of the familiar in the unfamiliar, or vice-versa (this mechanism further being that which Freud posited for the perception of the uncanny ) . The ballad form, for example, is imitated by "The Ballad of Persse O'Reilly" (pp. 44-7): the ballad's central narrative nature is repeated in this song's telling of Humpty Dumpty's/Earwicker's f a l l . The ballad's characteristic repetitions are to be found in the rhymes and repeated phrases of the parody: "With the b a i l i f f ' s bom at the door,/ (Chorus) Bimbam at the door./ Then he'll bum no more." (46.08-.10). "The Ballad, of Persse O'Reilly" continues in the vein of accusation against, and persecution of, Earwicker already established in Book I, Chapter i i . It is one more shout against the "fafafather" (45.13): "Then we'll have a free trade Gaels' band and mass meeting/For to sod the brave son of Scandiknavery./ And we'll bury him down in Oxmanstown/ Along with the devil and Danes . . . " (47.20-.23). Thus the ballad is drawn into the Wake in it s narrative and in it s mob-rallying aspects; i t is being used, here, not for customary po l i t i c a l ends, but rather to invite a lynching mob to destroy the "fafafather" Earwicker. The "Night Lesson" of Book I I , Chapter i i , is similarly a form which is both recognizable and alien to the reader's expectations. It imitates the pages of a student's notebook, complete with marginal notes and footnotes. A schoolchild's studies in grammar ("And egg she active or spoon she passive," 269.28), in French ("Aujourd'hui comme aux temps de Pline . . . ", 281.04), in arithmetic ("Ace, deuce, tricks, quarts, - 119 -quims". Mumtiplay of course and carry to their whole number," 283.04-.06), in geography or cartography ("Mux your pistany at a point of the coastmap to be called & but pronounced olfa," 287.13-.15), and so on, form the encyclopaedic or paradigmatic dimension through which the obsessive concerns of the Wake—the sin in the Park, the family configurations—can be read again and again. But like the ballad form, above, the student's workbook is transformed by the parodic (encyclopaedic) mode of the text. As a workbook, the piece is no longer entirely recognizable. Its internal relations have been altered: the marginal glosses bear no logical relation to the point in the text they accompany and upon which they "comment"; the footnotes do not develop, 35 elaborate upon, the text from which they depart. Rather, the glosses and the footnotes follow their own paths; each, corresponding to one of HCE's children, exhibits a s t y l i s t i c uniformity and a characteristic set of preoccupations emphasizing its independence from the main body of the text. The glosses belonging to Kevin/Shaun, for instance, exhibit consistently a rather pompous pedagogical character, even when they trade typeset and side of page with the glosses belonging to Jerry/Shem. The parody of the school workbook thus consists in this familiar form having i t s elements and their relations slightly changed, such that the reader perceives the familiar through an alien lens, the familiar form turning out, under closer inspection, to be unrecognizable. Further, the parody consists in the use of the form for a new purpose at odds with its original one: the "Night Lesson" episode, in i t s preoccupation with the sexual configurations of HCE's - 120 -family, works against the scholarly concerns of it s formal model. Thus Finnegans Wake as fictional encyclopaedia incorporates and imitates literary modes and forms under the functioning of an encyclopaedic mode. Such literary inclusion and parody cannot easily be distinguished from the inclusion of cultural categories. We noted earlier how, in Don Quixote, parody of literary romance is equivalent to a course of education on romance conventions of courtly love and confl i c t . In just this way, in Finnegans Wake (as in other fi c t i o n a l encyclopaedias such as Moby-Dick) the incorporation and imitation of literary forms is equivalent to the inclusion, in the text, of segments of the circle of knowledge. We have seen, for example, how the epic form of name-lists becomes, in the Wake, a vehicle for encyclopaedic inclusion and expansion. And i t appears that other literary forms, when imitated, entail the inclusion of a multitude of items of knowledge related to them. The opening to the mock-play, "The Mime of Mick, Nick and the Maggies" (Book II, Chapter i , pp. 219-222), for example, is equivalent to an education on stage and film conventions, theatre props, and so on. The schoolbook parody discussed above is indistinguishable from a survey of the topics studied at school. Thus the encyclopaedic or meta-mimetic mode characterizing the fictional encyclopaedia is related to the totalizing drive also characterizing this genre—and i t s non-fictional model. This is probably because the varieties of knowledge are generically mediated—usually being made available to us, in other words, only via the medium of the kinds of discourse, whether fictio n a l or non-fictional. - 121 -2 .c . Treatment of encyclopaedic models An uncertainty as to the possibility of a totalization of knowledge is basic to the encyclopaedic work, both fictional and non-fictional. One aspect of this attitude, already noted with respect to Finnegans Wake, is a tendency to parody literary forms and modes, to transform them. Parody seems to be an expression of ambivalence towards an original or master text: "le rapport du texte a ses origines . . . est essentiel a tout ecrit parodique. La parodie se pose en effet toujours par rapport a un original/originel auquel les versions detournees sont reliees par tout un ensemble de degradations plus ou 3 6 moins radicales." It is as though a l l the modes, forms, works, authors, when taken together could constitute the great body of knowledge so steadily desired. But because they do not do s o — attesting, instead, to the mere virtuality of such totalization—they are opened up to parody in the fictional encyclopaedia. If the individual modes and forms of discourse are questioned in this way, then so much the more should be the great systems of thought which profess to be totalizing, to be inclusive of a l l that could be said on humanity, the world, the universe. 2 . c . i Giambat t is ta V i c o Vico's universal history is the most visible of these encyclopaedic systems to be exploited and transformed in Finnegans Wake. J . Mitchell Morse has said that the Wake appears to be a "burlesque—not a parody but a burlesque—of The New Science . . . The - 122 -New Science and Finnegans Wake illustrate for literature Marx's remark to the effect that great events . . . in history occur . . . twice, the 3 7 f i r s t time as tragedy, the second time as farce." Now, i f we take the distinction between parody and burlesque to be that parody is the more literary c r i t i c a l practice, focusing on an individual style or work, while burlesque is a looser form of deflation, aimed at a wider fi e l d of 3 8 eccentric ideas , then perhaps we should understand Finnegans Wake to involve both a parody and a burlesque of Vico's New Science. I f , to put i t broadly, parody aims at words, while burlesque aims at ideas, then the Wake undertakes both with respect to Vico; both activities signal the text's fundamental ambivalence toward the notion of an encyclopaedic system, a system, in Vico's case, which would comprehend a l l human history in a l l the peoples of the world. The Wake's parody of Vico involves the repetition of certain key words from the work, including the author's name; being transformed, or found in an incongruous context, these words take on a new meaning. Such parody is not always negative; i t may involve a c r i t i c a l renewal. The most important word to be repeated is the proper name "Vico" i t s e l f , as i t comes to stand for an entire system of thought. This name goes through a wide variety of transformations and surfaces in a number of different contexts. This is probably because i t is overdetermined in the Freudian sense, referring both to an encyclopaedic thinker and to a 39 location—Vico Road—in Dalkey. So we find the expressions "commodius vicus of recirculation" (3.14); "Dr. Tipple's Vi-Cocoa" (26.31), an actual brand of cocoa4 0; "vicious circle" (98.19); "moves in vicous - 123 -cicles yet remews the same" (134.16); "The seim anew. Ordovico . . " (215.23); "Mr. John Baptlster Vickar" (255.27); "Old Vico Roundpoint" (260.27); "Old Vickers" (330.13); "The Gracehoper who . . . yet knew . . . his good smetterling of entymology . . . tossed himself in the vico . . ." (417.03-.06); "The Vico Road goes round and round to meet where terms begin" (452.21-.22); " . . . from America Avenue and Asia Place and the Affrian Way and Europa Parade . . . and from Vico" (497.11— .13); "Vicus Veneris" (551.34); "Our wholemole millwheeling vicociclometer" (614.27).41 In these expressions, the name is often integrated into the system of thought which i t represents or sums up; in this case i t becomes an adjective ("vicous cicles") or a common noun ("commodius vicus," "vicociclometer," "tossed himself in the vico"). The name may remain a proper noun but be inserted into a new context ("from America i+2 . . . Asia . . . Africa . . Europe . . . and from Vico" — t h e name becomes the name of a place, no longer of a person). Or the name may be altered but not, this time, be thereby subject to deflation: " . . . made not I to pass through twelve Threadneedles and Newgade and Vicus Veneris to cooinsight?: my camels" walk, kolossa kolossa! . . . " (551.33-.35). In this latter expression, Vico's system becomes the way to truth, to a simultaneous or universal insight ("cooinsight") Into human history. Besides the name of the author, words or expressions from the New  Science may be appropriated, transformed and placed in new contexts. For example, from Vico: - 124 -We postulate . . . that for many centuries, sodden with humidity from the Flood, the earth ejected neither dry exhalations nor burning^matter into the a i r , to generate thunderbolts. We observe that a l l nations, barbaric or human, though separately founded because of immense distances of time and space between them, preserve these three human customs: a l l have a religion, contract solemn marriages and bury their dead. And among the nations, no matter how savage and crude they be, no human actions are celebrated with more revered ceremonial and more sanctified solemnity than religion, marriage and burial . . . Hence we have adopted these three eternal and universal^customs as the three f i r s t principles of this Science. Compare the following passage from Book IV of Finnegans Wake: Signifying, i f tungs may tolkan, that, primeval conditions having gradually receded but nevertheless the emplacement of solid and fluid having to a great extent persisted through intermittences of sullemn fulminance, sollemn nuptialism, sallemn sepulture and providential divining, making possible and even Inevitable . . . at the place and period under consideration a socially organic entity of a millenary military maritory monetary morphological circumformation in a more or less settled state of equonomic ecolube equalobe equilab equilibbrium. (599.09-.18) Vico's vision of the origins of men in primeval thunderous conditions, and of the universal nature of human society and customs, i s , of course, alluded to throughout the Wake, but achieves an extended expression in Book IV or the book of new beginnings. Vico's presence in this book serves to emphasize its place as a "ricorso," or return to origins, in the over-all scheme of the Wake. Another expression resuming Vico's system, the "ideal eternal - 125 -history, traversed in time by the history of all nations," is to be found—transformed in sense but imitated in style—in several of the marginal notes attributed to Shaun in the "Night Lessons," Book II, Chapter i i : " . . . Prolegomena to Ideareal History" (262.05-.08); "Early Notions of Acquired Rights and the Influence of Collective Tradition upon the Individual" (268.07-.16); "Panoptical Purview of Political Progress and the Future Presentation of the Past" (272.09-.16). This imitation of key words ("Ideareal History" for "ideal history") and of a dry, professorial style, as well as of the themes of Vico's system as it is worked out in the margins of a child's workbook, deflates the original pronouncements and style; it makes of them a commentary on an apparently unrelated text. Such pronouncements are only marginal notes, and stylistically incongruous notes at that. Similarly, Vico's words on order in families being the foundation for cities—"Thus they [the first fathers] founded families and governed them so that later as cities arose they taught the necessity of obedience and order" —are recast in Dublin's motto, "Obedientia civium urbis felicitas," with this coincidence being one reason behind Dublin's importance for the Wake. HCE's failure to respect family order and to follow his civic duty is a "municipal sin business" (5.14), a sin of the family and the city, which is at the heart of the narrative repetitions and character displacements in the novel. The Wake, then, appropriates and transforms words and expressions from Vico's encyclopaedic work. The parody has two effects, extending both to the parodied text and to the text undertaking the parodic - 126 -commentary. The New Science is obviously affected; i t is fragmented and certain of the fragments are inserted into new—and often highly incongruous—contexts. As such Vico's totalizing thesis is put into question. If a work can be dismantled in this way, i f its premises can be removed from their proper context and scattered through another text, then i t cannot be the unified account of the whole of history that i t would like to be. Similarly, the parody of Vico feeds back into the Wake i t s e l f , providing thematic material that is overdetermined because i t is perceived by the reader to have come from another text, another system. The parody is thus both an incorporation and a fragmentation of another text; i t is both an acknowledgement of debt and an attempt to throw off that debt. As such i t reflects an encyclopaedic work's paradoxical evasion of an encyclopaedic model or Master. If we can say that burlesque concerns Itself with eccentric ideas rather than with specific words, then the Wake's treatment of certain notions from Vico's system (those that render i t the most bizarre and unforgettable) is certainly in the nature of a burlesque. In Vico, for instance, Jove's thunderbolt initiates the human order of marriage, family, and civic duty: Jove strikes by thunderbolt and lays low the giants . . . . . . . When Jove's f i r s t thunderbolts struck not everybody was laid low . . . the more alert . . . who had taken refuge in caverns through fear of the thunderbolts began, in that state of stupor, to feel human . . . desire . . . they used force to seize women and drag them into caves, where they kept them . . . through this f i r s t human custom, certain children were - 127 -born, from whom came certain families, which were the basis of the f i r s t cities and, thence, of the f i r s t kingdoms. This emphasis on the thunderbolt is repeated in Joyce's text; Jove's great sign is both imitated and deformed by means of linguistic composites or gigantic interlingual portmanteau words. For example: The f a l l (bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonn-erronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthu-rnuk!) of a once wallstrait oldparr is retaled early in bed and later on l i f e down through a l l christian minstrelsy. (3.27-.30) In these monstrous words, Joyce seems to be as much working through Vico's notions on the origins of language, as he is illustrating the original thunder. That i s , according to Vico, " . . . through a l l these three ages [of the gods, of heroes, and of men], three languages had been spoken . . . These were the hieroglyphic or sacred language, the symbolic language or [the language of working] by means of resemblances, which is the heroic language, and the alphabetic or vulgar language of men, [working] by means of conventional signs . . . ., , l t 9 Concerning the most primitive or sacred mode of language, Vico has the following to say: "The dumb express themselves through actions or objects which bear some natural relationship with the ideas they wish to signify . . . This axiom is the principle of the hieroglyphics in which a l l nations spoke during their f i r s t barbarism . . . The poetic idiom, involving images, likenesses, comparisons and natural properties, must have been subsequent to this natural speech." Or again: "Language must have begun with monosyllabic words, just as . . . children begin with such , ..50 words . . . - 128 -These ideas of Vico on language are put to use in the Wake; there is a recasting or reworking—and imitation, that Is, which nonetheless operates in a new context and hence constitutes a form of critique. The thundering composite words are made up of a number of onomatopoeic monosyllables; they evoke Vico's primitive language seeking to imitate the terrifying sound of Jove's thunder. (". . . [I]n its childhood the world consisted of poetic nations, since poetry is nothing but imitation"5 1). They also work on the three levels, distinguished by Vico, of hieroglyph, symbol and conventional sign: f i r s t , they are the mark of the thundering god, a gesture of intercession and beginnings; second, they resemble the sound of thunder in their piling-up of expletives and rolling "n"'s; third, they are composed of conventional signs or actual words from a number of languages. Vico's ideas on language and origins are thus incorporated in these words—and yet changed in them as well. The Babel of languages, the bristling monstrous shape and sound of these constructions, enacts a f a l l away from the sacred and heroic origins envisioned by Vico. The over-all context of Finnegans Wake is a Catholic one, deeply informed by a sense of original sin; Vico's thought, on the other hand, is not particularly Christian even though i t professes to be (having divine providence as the f i r s t principle of the world and history of the nations ) . In Vico, divine intervention initiates order, a turn toward a morally better state, and man's language begins with this new order. In Genesis, on the other hand, the Babel of languages exists in the context of a f a l l away from divine grace. The Wake sums up, works through this - 129 -confusion of tongues linked with the F a l l . The parody of Vico, then, betrays a nostalgia for a sacred, unmediated language—as espoused by Vico—and for a past free of Christian s i n . The transformations of the name of Vico, however, indicate an irretrievable turn into the fragmentation of fallen experience, into a play with the conventional basis of language; this i s so even while the play with the name would elevate the name to the status of an object, and thus overcome the dichotomy of word and thing. Parody, as we have seen, involves both an imitation of (nostalgia for) a revered origin, and a transformation (or eluding) of i t . It is an expression of ambivalence toward authorial origins. The attitude of burlesque is the same: i t would replay an idea, while i t nonetheless makes i t ridiculous to varying degrees. The Wake repeats the thunder of the gods, yet turns i t into a Babel of human tongues. In another ambivalent gesture, the novel revolves around the figure of a larger-than-life patriarch, yet also deflates the giants of Vico in i t s fascination with giants of many kinds, and with the number of different words that can be found to refer to giants. For example: Yet may we not see s t i l l the brontoichthyan form outlined aslumbered . . . (7.20-.21) The meandertale, aloss and again, of our old Heidenburgh in the days when Head-in-Clouds walked the earth. (18.22-.24) What secondtonone myther rector and maximost bridgesmaker was the f i r s t to rise taller through his beanstale than the . . . giganteous Wellingtonia Sequoia . . (126.22-.24) - 130 -. . . Who w i l l he be, this mitryman, some king of the yeast, . . . with the snow in his mouth and the C a s p i a n asthma, so bulk of build? (578.03-.05) The examples above indicate that Vico's f i r s t giants become, in the Wake, a pretext for an exploration of synonyms for the word "giant," or of i t s applications in the animal, vegetable and mineral domains. So the Brontosaurus and the Ichthyosaurus, giant dinosaurs, are animal equivalents to the f i r s t father of the Wake. Their association with the remote past also repeats Vico's emphasis on the giants being at the origin of human history. "Meandertale" puns with "Neanderthal," again alluding to the f i r s t men in remote times, while "Head-in-Clouds" is an apt t i t l e for a giant (and also refers to HCE, in the play with these i n i t i a l s that is so common in the Wake). The giant Beanstalk reaching up into the sky, and the "giganteous Wellingtonia Sequoia," are vegetable equivalents of Vico's f i r s t men. Meanwhile, the reference to mountains in "snow in his mouth" brings in the giants of the mineral world; the pope, as another kind of giant among men, is alluded to in "this mitryman," as is Mitra of Indian myth. "King of the yeast" or East humourously deflates the giant theme even while i t refers to inflation in size. Vico's ideas are, then, reproduced to some extent in the f i c t i o n of the Wake; they are, however, transposed into the domain of word and wordplay. Such ideas, central elements of a system purporting to account for a l l human history, are isolated, repeated endlessly in a multitude of different forms, verbal expressions. Vico's thunder is a pretext for a foray through a virtual Dictionary of a l l languages; his - 131 -giants i n i t i a t e a play with synonyms or equivalents for the word "giant." Such a shift from ideas into verbal play signals the deflation or burlesque of a system that professes to include a l l that has been, that posits an origin in which words and things are undifferentiated. Burlesque, however, does not in the Wake involve simple ridicule; i t is an expression of ambivalence toward origins, as ideas are revered nostalgically while being nonetheless subjected to the transforming play of language, of the dictionary and the thesaurus. Neither, we have seen, does parody in the Wake involve the simple deflation of a text, form or style; i t repeats the original, projects a total work, even as i t fragments that unity and subjects these fragments—luminous pieces pointing to a larger whole—to linguistic play. The attitude of Finnegans Wake before the New Science is thus one of parody and burlesque, reflecting a desire to write a totalizing Book and a simultaneous knowledge of the impossibility of accomplishing such an enterprise. The attitude i s , further, a reflection of a nostalgia 54 for one natural or sacred tongue as this nostalgia encounters the conventional basis of language and the multiplicity of tongues. 2.c.ii Giordano Bruno Joyce's treatment of Giordano Bruno is very similar to his versions of Vico. Both the ideas and the name of Bruno the Nolan are repeated throughout the work. Bruno's notion of the merging or coincidence of opposites is a structural base for the Wake: a number of - 132 -pairs of warring twins merge before, or i n , the Father; each passes over into the other, "both croon to the same theme" (491.05), come to the same thing. Issy and her mirror image also take part in this configuration. The characterization of the following two pairs of twins demonstrates this symmetry and merging: The Mookse had a sound eyes right but he could not a l l hear. The Gripes had light ears left yet he could but i l l see. (158.12-.13) . . . I cannot now have or nothave a piece of cheeps in your pocket at the same time and with the same manners as you can now nothalf or half the cheek apiece I've in mind unless Burrus and Caseous have not or not have seemaultaneously sysentangled themselves . . . (161.09-.13) Again, at the end of the fable of the Ondt and the Gracehoper (pp. 414-419), a version of the twins, we find: "In the name of the former and of the latter and of their holocaust. Allmen." ( Shaun says of Shem, "I'm enormously f u l l of that foreigner, I ' l l say I am . . . I hate him . . . I love him" (463.14-.20). This last i s , of course, a classic expression of ambivalence. One brother is the other's "doblinganger" (490.17). As Bruno says, "Almost a l l things are made up of opposites . . . we shall ever find that one opposite is the reason that the other opposite . . . is desired."5 5 As parodied in the Wake, this becomes: " . . . as were they isce et i l l e equals of opposites, evolved by a onesame power of nature or of s p i r i t , i s t e , as the sole condition and means of i t s himundher manifestation and polarised for reunion by the symphysis of their antipathies." (92.07-.11) - 133 -Thus a principle of indecision informs the Wake and is responsible for the instability of i t s characters—this even in the midst of their endlessly repeated configurations or relationships (these returns recalling the other system—Vico's—at the base of the Wake). This principle of ambivalence is also behind the word-transformations, or wordplay, of the novel: "Language this allsfare for the loathe of Marses ambiviolent about i t " (518.02-03). Just as Vico's returns are commented upon while being put to use, so Bruno's principle is spelled out in the frequent use of a key word, "hesitency," and i t s versions such as "hiscitendency" (305.09). Such commentary sums up a totalizing system in a pithy or humourous fashion, thereby framing i t and putting its universal import into question: . . . Nola Bruno monopolises his egobruno most unwillingly seses by the mortal powers alionola equal and opposite brunoipso, id est, eternally provoking alio opposite equally as provoked as Bruno at being eternally opposed by Nola. ( Now, I am earnestly asking you, and putting i t as between this yohou and that houmonymh, w i l l just you search through your gabgut memoirs for a l l of two minutes for this impersonating pronolan, fairhead on foulshoulders. (490.12-.15) As seen in the latter example, any pair of opposites can serve to evoke Bruno's system. The Yahoos and Houyhnhnms from Gulliver's Travels make up one such pair, with "houmonymh" also happily punning on "homonym," homonyms being different words which yet sound the same. "Fair" and "foul," "head" and "shoulders" form two more such conventional couples. A hesitation between contraries can thus be both the subject of - 134 -discussion, as in the "Nola Bruno . . . egobruno" passage above, and the force bringing about the selection of pairs of opposites, with the principle being enacted at both the character and the lexical levels. Equivocation is both a structural principle and a doctrine that is commented upon—with somewhat deflationary e f f e c t — i n the text. The unstable structure of burlesque repeats Bruno's questioning of ide n t i t y .5 6 Joyce's burlesque of Bruno's doctrine of contraries thus in it s e l f displays an ambivalent structure: as in his treatment of Vico's system, he reveres his master Bruno, enacting or repeating his contraries in his text while yet at the same time performing a critique of a doctrine with universalizing aspirations. The critique of Bruno, as suggested in the examples above, is carried out in the mode of caricature or exaggeration; in the case of Vico, we saw, the critique involves a subjection of ideas of origin and natural language to linguistic play, to a celebration of the arbitrariness of language. We note, in the example above, certain deformati ons of the name of Bruno of Nola: "Nola Bruno," "egobruno," "alionola," "impersonating pronolan." The names may have their order reversed; they may become common nouns and be expanded into composite words; they may participate in puns ("impersonating pronolan" recalls "personal pronoun"). In fact, the name of Bruno is the most frequently used of any philosopher in the 57 Wake, probably because i t is in i t s e l f overdetermined: i t s two-names-in-one structure enacts, in miniature, Bruno's doctrine; further, i t puns with the name of the Dublin booksellers, Browne and Nolan (especially in references such as "Browne and Nolan's divisional - 135 -tables," p. 268.08-.09). Here are a few examples of the name and i t s transformations, the philosopher and his doubles: . . . this overspoiled priest Mr Browne . . . in his secondary personality as a Nolan . . . (38.25-.28) . . . i f Father San Browne . . . is Padre Don Bruno . . . (which of us but remembers the rarevalent and hornerable Fratomistor Nawlanmore and Brawne) . . . (50.18-.23) JUSTIUS (to himother): Brawn is my name and broad is my nature . . . and I ' l l brune this bird or Brown Bess's bung's gone bandy. I'm the boy to bruise and braise . . . Stand forth, Nayman of Noland . . . (187.24-.28) Toot! Detter for you, Mr Nobru. Toot toot! Better for you, Mr Anol! (490.26-.27) "Bruno" is taken through the route of other languages and becomes "Browne"/"Brown" and "brune." "Browne" puns with the verb "brown" and hence generates "braise." The name has i t very letters rearranged ("Nobru," "Anol"), suggesting the distortions worked on words by the j 58 dream. In the above example, the two words "Bruno" and "Nola," and their respective transformations, are separated but always found within a short distance of one another. They are made to stand for different figures, but yet indicate the same person. Similarly, each word and its transformations enact the theme of identity in difference: "Bruno" and "browne" or "brune" are versions, in different tongues, of the same idea. The pun, extending over the whole work, which connects the booksellers Browne and Nolan with the Renaissance philosopher is also - 136 -an example of this mechanism of identity in difference; here, different times meet in the same word. Thus, in the parodic transformations of the name of Bruno, we find an enactment of the principle for which the name comes to stand. This enactment constitutes an affirmation; nonetheless, the transformation of a name—for example, by moving i t s letters around—is an act of appropriation, and hence a dismantling of the integrity and universal import of the system behind the name. We recall how similar parodic operations on the name of Vico imply both an Incorporation of his system ( i t is drawn i n , in miniature, In the name each time this appears in the text) and its fragmentation (thus countering the system's claims to refer to a l l space and time) or dispersal in a new context. Similar operations on the name of Swift and names or book-titles associated with him (Stella, Vanessa, The Tale of  the Tub, Gulliver's Travels, etc.) indicate that Swift is another master who must be parodied, with the added twist that Swift is already a master of parody—and of Menippean satire. The parody on the name, then, like the critique of the Ideas or system behind i t , involves the movement of "hesitency," the repetition of a revered origin coinciding with its metamorphosis into a ridiculed Other. The conflict of the twins, in the Wake, could be taken as a metaphor for the relation of the work to it s encyclopaedic models. 2.d. Images of completion While Finnegans Wake betrays a certain amount of ambivalence with regard to totalizing models and to the project, in general, of a total - 137 -completion of knowledge, i t does not, for a l l that, abandon the project or cease to hold i t , on a certain le v e l , as something to be desired. Recent writing on the Wake tends to emphasize one side of the tension between totalization (and an ultimate center or origin) and Its impossibility (and the disintegration of meaning into linguistic play): 59 such writing dwells on the work's lack of a center. Such a lack would imply an inabil i t y to encircle or contain a to t a l i t y , a world. Earlier explications of the Wake, in their emphasis on an overarching structure, emphasize, on the other hand, the work's regularities and equivalences, its limitations and thematic centerings.6 0 The tension is between conceptions of the Wake as an open or a closed work, as a "writerly" or 61 a "readerly" text, as a work in which the reader participates to produce meaning or a work whose meaning is sealed within, already, by an omnipotent author. Now, I would suggest that Finnegans Wake encloses this polemic, or play of contraries in Bruno's sense, within i t s e l f as the dynamic behind its "hesitencies." It is reductive, I f e e l , to emphasize one side or the other of the debate on open versus closed, decentered versus centered form; one takes better into account the reader's experience of texts such as the Wake (and the Cantos and Paradis) i f one recognizes this play of opposites as being their basic dynamic; there is a vacillation between the familiar and the unfamiliar, the Law and i t s transgression. With respect to the Wake, for example, Stephen Heath remarks that this vacillation is between Shaun and Shem and what they stand for, respectively: - 138 -D'une part, l'appel . . . au sur l u i , au f i l s a papa, a l'homme d'esprlt c l a i r , aux codes fixes qui mettra un peu d'ordre, marquera des limites . . ; de 1'autre, le temps d'une hesitation, d'une ecriture qui malaxe les codes . . . Travail done . . . qui passe et repasse de la sainte famille et de ses codes familiers . . . au desir incestueux, hors codes, fluant; du cogito . . . a une Ecriture . . . qui lache le sujet . . . ; en g 2 somme, drame de l e t t e r - l i t t e r , lettre et l'e"tron. . . One must, in other words, recognize that the Wake is neither Shaun's nor Shem's work, but rather derives i t s energy from a mutual passage between the two. In i t s attitude towards totalization, then, the Wake follows the hesitation between the twins. On the one hand, i t parodies works and authors aspiring to a condition Of completion; i t parodies i t s own 6 3 aspiration in it s parodies on its own style ; in i t , perhaps, the idea of the totalizing Book disintegrates, the Letter becomes l i t t e r , the authentic Word is threatened by parody, copying, plagiarism, the "epical forged cheque" (181.16). On the other hand, the Wake works with a vision of a completed circle of knowledge—and It works toward the actualization of this virtuality; i t works with the vision of a total Book or set of encyclopaedic categories. In the following section I w i l l focus more upon this latter aspect of the Wake by looking at some metaphors by means of which this desire for completion surfaces in the text, is played out and repeated in different forms. The main images of completion are those of the rainbow and the musical scale, the Alpha-Omega pair and the alphabet. - 139 -2.d.i The rainbow Adeline Glasheen in her Third Census l i s t s many references to the 6^ rainbow and its colours. The rainbow dominates the imagery of the Wake; it s frequency is a sign of a fascination with the notion of completion, with completed sets which indicate both fullness and c i r c u l a r i t y . The f i r s t reference to the rainbow in the book establishes its connection with the c i r c l e : Rot a peck of pa's malt had Jhem or Shen brewed by arclight and rory end to the regginbrow was to be seen ringsome on the aquaface. (3.24-.26) "Ringsome" offers "ring" and also the German word "ringsum" ("around").65 This, along with "arc" in "arclight," means that the rainbow, besides containing the mystical number seven, is also associated from the f i r s t with the circle of completion. It contains a l l the colours there are, a l l in i n f i n i t e l y fine gradations. In this sense the rainbow is an apt metaphor for the encyclopaedia or c i r c l e of knowledge, with i t s categories ideally capable of being subdivided in an i n f i n i t e number of ways, according to the perspective taken. With this association of rainbow and circle in mind let us look at a few more rainbows from the Wake. What is striking is that the colours are often associated with g i r l s or g i r l s ' names: Now, to be on anew and basking again in the panaroma of a l l flores of speech, If a human being . . . were at this auctual futule preteriting unstant, in the states of suspensive exanimation, accorded . . . with an earsighted view of old hopeinhaven . . . could such a none . . . byhold at ones what is main and why t i s twain, how one once meet melts in tother wants poignings . . . the nimb now nihilant round the - 140 -glrlyhead so becoming . . . what roserude and oragious grows gelb and greera, blue out the ind of i t ! Violet's dyed! then what would that fargazer seem to seemself to seem seeming of, dimm i t all? Answer: A collideorscape! (143.03-.28) Here, the image of the rainbow, kaleidoscope or "collideorscape" (also "collide or escape") of colours is evoked in a synaesthetic mood of "suspensive exanimation" (suspended animation), in a state, that i s , of epiphany overcoming time in an "auctual futule preteriting unstant." The g i r l glimpsed in such a state, the "girlyhead so becoming," recalls a similar vision in A Portrait of the A r t i s t . The rainbow is here a nimbus (halo, circle again) around her head, with the names for the colours being modified by the cosmic or astronomical/meteorological context. The important concept here, then, is that of timelessness in i t s association with a contemplation of t o t a l i t y , the "ind of i t , " "old hopeinhaven." The notion of a meeting of contraries, so often worked out in the Wake, finds one of i t s incarnations in this context: " . . . byhold at ones what is main and why tis twain, how one once meet melts in tother wants poignings . . . ." Thus timelessness, totality and the principle of ambivalence a l l meet, significantly, as a constellation in 6 7 the context of the rainbow. Let us look at another example: . . . Hadn't he seven dams to wive him? And every dam had her seven crutches. And every crutch had its seven hues. And each hue had a differing cry . . . He married his markets, cheap by foul . . . in their pinky limony creamy birnies and their turkiss indienne mauves . . . Then a l l that was was f a i r . Tys Elvenland! Teems of times and happy returns. The seim anew. Ordovico or viricordo. Anna was, Livia i s , Plurabelle's to be. Northmen's thing made southfoik's place but howmulty plurators made eachone in person? (215.15-.26) - 141 -Here, again, the "seven hues" of the rainbow are linked with seven women ("dams"). The names of the colours, in this feminine context, take on diminutive or feminine forms: "pinky limony . . . indienne mauves." The woman-rainbow complex i s , further, associated with Vico's eternal returns ("The seim anew. Ordovico . . . ") and with an inclusion of a l l time, past, present and future, in one figure—ALP ("Anna was . . . " ) . It seems, here, that Vico's returns are linked with the perception of a l l time in an "auctual futule preteriting unstant"; i t seems that returns in the time of history create, in the midst of time, moments of timeless order. The eternal return is also linked to the female principle i n , for instance, the order of the earth's seasons, the regeneration of the earth in the spring. In the passage above, there is the further interesting development that a variation on Bruno's principle ("howmulty plurators made eachone in person") i s , just as in the last example, part of the major cluster of woman-rainbow-timelessness. It seems as though the meeting of contraries must exist in the context of non-linear notions of time; ambivalence as a suspension between two choices matches forms of temporal suspension. The spectrum doubled as the repeating band of a l l colours is thus a figure in Finnegans Wake of completion or totalization, of the work's c 9 drive to encircle a l l things and repeat them in microcosmic form. It makes sense that such a figure of totality should frequently be found in the company of evocations of eternal time—or timelessness; a conception of a totality of knowledge must be inseparable from a conception of a - 142 -knowledge unaffected by any temporal boundaries. The spatial circle of the rainbow evokes i t s temporal counterpart, whether via reference to Vico's returns, or via play with the group "past-present-future." In another passage, in which Shaun gives lascivious advice to g i r l s , we note the familiar constellation of rainbow, g i r l s , recurrent time or timelessness, and the meeting of opposites. The entire cluster, however, is cast in a new, musical mode. Reference to music and to the alphabet suggest other forms in which a preoccupation with completion can be cast: Where the lisieuse are we and what's the f i r s t sing to be sung? Is i t rubrics, mandarimus, pasqualines, or verdidads is in i t , or the bruiselivid indecores of estreme voyoulence and, for the lover of lithurgy, bekant or besant, where's the fate's to be wished for? Several sindays after whatsintime. I ' l l sack that sick server the minute I bless him. That's the mokst I can do for his grapce. Economy of movement, axe why said. (432.29-.35) An ecclesiastical context has been set up prior to this passage ("purgations," "indulgences," 432.27), a context inseparable, in the figure of Shaun, from one of lascivious pursuit ("to a l l practising massoeurses from a preaching freer," 432.23). Shaun is addressing a bevy of "goodwill g i r l s " (430.19); i t is to be expected, then, that a reference to rainbows w i l l be included. This particular rainbow ("rubrics, mandarimus . . . voyoulence") has the names of i t s colours modified by the church and music contexts: "rubrics" refers, among other things, to the red-printed directions in prayer books; "pasqual" or Paschal refers to Easter; "verdidads" evokes Verdi and the opera, - 143 -plus truth (in Spanish, " l a verdad"). In the latter part of the spectrum, colour-names are modified by a context of sexual perversion: "bruiselivid" is blue, "indecores" is indigo, "voyoulence" (voyeurism, violence, "voyou," Rimbaud's coloured "voyelles") is v i o l e t . The familiar rainbow constellation is thus made more complex, betrays a greater "economy of movement," in being traversed by other currents, other series of terms, which have come to characterize Shaun. Church ri t u a l — " l i t h u r g y " — b r i n g s r i t u a l time into play; this notion of time as recurrence is followed up in "whatsintime," which suggests Whitsuntide (seven Sundays after Easter, involving a week or seven days) and which also involves a questioning of time (what's in time?). The convergence of opposites i s , further, evoked in the "sacking"/blessing opposition, along with the reference to the Mookse ("mokst") and the Gripes ("grapce"), one pair of conflicting twins in the Wake. "Economy of movement, axe why said": the "movement" of meaning in the text of the Wake follows a principle of economy, a principle (like Freud's) which makes possible the intersection of as many meanings as possible in the smallest possible space. This principle is enacted in Joyce's wordplay, and in the way several strands of meaning (or metonymic chains) may converge in the sentence-unit. Such "economy" is summed up by the alphabet ("axe why said"), which contains in potential a l l the words of the language; the alphabet i s , paradoxically, both economical and al l - i n c l u s i v e . In this i t is like the wordplay of the Wake, or wordplay in general. This quality is the reason why, next to the rainbow, the alphabet is one of the main images of completion in the Wake. - 144 -2.d.ii The musical scale The musical scale is used in the Wake as a metaphor, like the rainbow, for completion or wholeness. However, the musical scale is not nearly so frequently found as the rainbow or the alphabet. The scale is a gradated series, like the colours of the spectrum; i t is a series of tones, a complete set of values contained within one octave; between "do" and "do," as between "red" and "red," is contained a miniature t o t a l i t y . The musical scale also highlights the number seven, as does the rainbow. For example, on p. 260.23-.24, the musical scale is evoked in the marginal note: "Dont retch meat fat salt lard sinks down (and out)." This note accompanies a text setting out a travel itinerary, a route or passage through both space and time, envisioning both locations in Dublin and stages in intellectual history (" . . .up Tycho Brache Crescent, shouldering Berkeley Alley, querfixing Gainsborough Carfax . . .", 260.21-.23). This itinerary Is further characterized by a marginal note, on the opposite side of the text, which plays off against the musical scale note: "Imaginable Itinerary Through The Particular Universal" (260.19-.24). This is a reference to Vico's "ideal eternal history," his tracing of an "itinerary" through successive stages of world history. Vico also appears in the annotated text i t s e l f , as "Old Vico Roundpoint" (260.25-.26). The musical scale (in a gross 7 0 deformation attributable to Shem) thus appears in a Viconian context. A figure of containment or totality is made to comment upon a space-time itinerary, Vico's model of eternal recurrence applied to a l l the nations of the world: "In this way the certain origins and the - 145 -uninterrupted progress of the whole universe of nations should be discovered . . . this Science comes to be an ideal eternal history, 71 traversed in time by the history of a l l nations." In just this way, we have seen, the rainbow as another figure of totality evokes the "happy returns" of the "Ordovico" (215.23). And just as the rainbow and the eternal return usually evoke a feminine context, so the musical scale, in the example at hand, comments upon an itinerary opened and closed (and opened again) by Anna Livia : "Long Livius Lane . . . by New Livius Lane t i l l where we whiled while we whithered" (260.20-.25). Another musical scale is to be found in the f i r s t Shaun chapter ( I l l . i ) . As noted above, the Shaun text is f i l l e d with references to music: — A l o , alass, alladin, amobus! Does she lag soft f a l l means rest down? Shaun yawned, as his general address rehearsal, ( . . . with the memories of the past and the hicnuncs of the present erabelliching the musics of the futures from Miccheruni's band) . . . to dye his paddycoats to morn his hesternmost earning . . . (407.27-408.01) Shaun, in his "general address rehearsal," warms up his voice by running through two scales or complete sets—the f i r s t being a deformation of a Latin verb conjugation, the second being the musical "do s i la so fa mi re do." The musical scale is closely followed by a reference to time, in the form of "past-present-future" ("with the memories of the past . . . the hicnuncs of the present . . . the musics of the futures"). This group is the temporal equivalent for figures of totality like the rainbow, musical scale and alphabet. Past, present - 146 -and future sum up a l l time, time as seen from a l l possible perspectives, from a global and ultimately atemporal perspective. The group is repeated in "to dye . . . to morn . . . hesternmost" (today-tomorrow-yesterday), which also contains a reference to the cycle of the day in the dawn ("to dye . . . morn . . . hesternmost [easternmost]"), and to the cycle of l i f e and death in "to dye [die] . . . to morn [mourn] . . . ." The musical scale is thus again associated with figures of temporal completion and recurrence. This is not surprising, as music is a temporal art. More importantly, however, such repeated association indicates that images of completion subsume, in the Wake, any distinction between space and time. The virtual encyclopaedic Book, in other words, is a limit towards which actual encyclopaedias, both fict i o n a l and non-fictional, tend; as such a v i r t u a l i t y , totality is a matter both of a l l things and of a l l time. 2 . d . i i i Alpha-Omega An all-subsuming totality is often figured, in Finnegans Wake, in the movement from nought to i n f i n i t y , from Alpha to Omega, or from A to Z. For example: . . . whereat samething Is r i v i s i b l e by nighttim, may be involted into the zerolc couplet, palls pell inhis heventh glike noughty times 00 . . .( . . . Now t e l l me, t e l l me, t e l l me then! What was it? A ! ? 0! (94.20-.22) - 147 -Miss Oodles of Anems before the Luvium doeslike. So . . . And miss Endles of Eons efter Dies of Eirae doeslike. So. (226.35-.36) His cheekmole of allaph foriverever her a l l i n a l l . . . (242.31) A. 1 . . . to find a locus for an alp get a howlth on her bayrings as a prisme 0 and for a second 0 unbox your compasses . . . Mux your pistany at a point of the coastmap to be called ji but pronounced o l f a . (287.08-.15) Begob, he's the crux of the catalogue of our antediluvial zoo . . . (47.03-.04) For Ark see Zoo . . . (104.32) ^Huntler and Pumar's animal alphabites, the f i r s t in the world from aab to zoo. (263.29-.30) ARCHAIC ZELOTYPIA AND THE ODIUM TELEOLOGICUM. (264.01-.15) Every letter is a godsend, ardent Ares, brusque Boreas and glib Ganymede like zealous Zeus, the O'Meghisthest of a l l . (269.17-.19) . . . apple, bacchante, custard, dove, eskimo, feldgrau, hematite, isingglass, j e t , kipper, l u c i l e , mimosa, nut, oysterette, prune, quasimodo, royal, sago, tango, umber, v a n i l l a , wisteria, xray, yesplease, zaza, Philomel, theerose. (247.35-248.02) . . . he stands in a lovely park, sea is not far, importunate towns of X, Y and Z are easily over reached . . . (138.04.06) In calculus, 00 or i n f i n i t y is a limit towards which a variable may tend. It is a kind of hypothetical fina l Number whose use is in i t s positing, in i t s virtual rather than actual existence. In just this way we have characterized the encyclopaedic Book as having its value for books in i t s virtual existence. "Noughty times °°" is a meaningless operation unless we understand i t to characterize the movement from zero - 148 -to i n f i n i t y — t h e movement, that i s , through a l l the numbers, through everything that i s . It may also characterize the coupling ("zeroic couplet" is heroic couplet-or (0,0); "noughty" is naughty in the "nighttim") of HCE and ALP who, as primordial parents, conceive and create a l l people for a l l time. The Alpha-Omega couple is similar to the 0-°° pair. The beginning and the end of time, the f i r s t and last thing, are summed up in God: I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, saith the Lord, which i s , and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty. • • • I am Alpha and Omega, the f i r s t and the last . . . (Revelation 1. 8-11) God as such is absent from the Wake; the numerous local gods mentioned of different religions, cultures or times, point to Him—as does the rainbow to the white light i t refracts. He is absent and yet present everywhere. He is the Father or Lawgiver whose will has been transgressed—and He is HCE the transgressor. The Father thus evades Himself in the Wake, in the practice of narrative repetitions and digressions, character ambiguities, and lexical indirections. This absent Presence can only be referred to indirectly, via the Alpha-Omega connection (and by "I yam as I yam," 604.23). The reference is at Its most cryptic in the brief "A . . . 0!." This abbreviation may be made even more indirect by being reversed: "Miss 0_odles of Anems . . . miss Endles of Eons" contains Omega, Alpha, plus "Amen" and a reference to endless time ("Endles . . . Eons") or to the end of time ("End . . . of - 149 -Eons"). This version of the Alpha-Omega couple occurs in a feminine context ("Miss . . . miss"), one of desire ("Dies . . . Eirae," desire*e) personified by ALP ("Luvium"). In a similar way, we saw, the rainbow as 72 symbol of totality is always associated with seven women or g i r l s . "Alpha-Omega" may also be referred to indirectly by a mention of only one of it s members. This is what happens in "Allaph" (alpha), which comes to stand for the pair (also referred to by it s definition " a l l i n a l l " ) . The reference becomes even more e l l i p t i c a l in "the point of the coastmap to be called a_ but pronounced olfa." Here, "olfa" conflates "alpha" and "omega"; the resulting sound both accords with and diverges from an expected pronunciation of "a". "Olfa" thus enacts in miniature the transformation of the Name informing the Wake. Another indirection practised on "Alpha-Omega" makes the i n i t i a l s "A" and "0" the f i r s t and final letters of certain other words. This play on letters also involves making the "A" of "Alpha-Omega" function doubly as the "A" or f i r s t letter of the alphabet. In this case a "Z," or last letter of the alphabet, is naturally found in the words involved. Some examples from above illustrate this merging of the "A-0" and "A-Z" groups: the f i r s t and last letters of "antediluvial zoo" are "a" and "o", while the f i r s t letters of each word are "a" and "z." This happens again in "For Ark see Zoo" and in "Huntler and Pumar's animal alphabites, the f i r s t in the world from aab to zoo." The configuration is slightly changed in "Archaic Zelotypia and the Odium Teleologicum." These examples, besides playing with letters, also contain references to the Old Testament, to the beginning of time ("antediluvial" or - 150 -antediluvian, "the f i r s t in the world"), to the Flood or the Ark and i t s animals ("For Ark see Zoo," "animal alphabites"). It seems that in the Viconian context of the Wake a Christian concern with the totality or beginning and end of things ("Archaic . . . Teleologicum") must be matched by an emphasis placed on primordial beginnings—or returns and re-beginnings. 2.d.iv The alphabet The alphabet has an important symbolic function in the Wake. It contains, like the "Alpha-Omega" pair, the f i r s t and l a s t , the totality (potentially) of a l l words; It contains an entire verbal universe in miniature. As a hen's Letter is the crux of the Wake's narrative, so the letter Itself is highlighted via the frequent references to the alphabet. There is an awareness in the book as to i t s own nature as writing—the world created therein being made, ultimately, of other books, words, letters. The alphabet, nonetheless, also indicates a nostalgia for a state of completion, for a beginning and an end to creation—a state belied, paradoxically, by an emphasis on the l e t t e r , this emphasis bringing in the spectre of multiple, ever-shifting interpretation and recreation. The Wakean alphabet ("apple . . . theerose," above) adds two terms beyond Z, creating the possibility of many more terms; as in the Viconian structure of the Wake, there are always new terms or beginnings. The "apple" alphabet is also missing a letter ("g"), thus evading the ideal of completion i t would summon up. - 151 -3. Time and timelessness If i t is to be seen as a fictional encyclopaedia, Finnegans Wake should exhibit an evasiveness toward time resembling that of the pedagogical encyclopaedia. The l a t t e r , we r e c a l l , seeks to escape limitations in knowledge by escaping the constraints of time; i t s need to extend i t s e l f through successive editions, through revisions and supplements and so on, is an expression of a desire to push back the temporal horizon limiting what can be known or understood. Ultimately the desire is to extend i t s e l f into a single, virtual Book containing a l l of i t s corrections, editions, or rendering them unnecessary. The drive is to rise above time and the limitations i t places on the encyclopaedic project, to include the past, present and future (making them one time) within i t s c i r c l e . Swift mocks this aspiration (noted earlier in the writings of Diderot) which would pass over the specificity of the past: " . . . how exceedingly our Illustrious Moderns have eclipsed the weak glimmering Lights of the Antients, and turned them out of the Road of a l l fashionable Commerce, to a degree, that our choice Town-Wits of most refined Accomplishments, are in grave Dispute, 7 3 whether there have been ever any Antients or no. . . ." Swift is concerned, here, with satirizing a desire for utter contemporaneity. In the Wake, a desire to overcome temporal differences results in an emphasis on the continuity of past, present and future: " . . . for ancients link with presents as the human chain extends, have done, do and w i l l again . . ." (254.08-.09). - 152 -It is equally necessary for the encyclopaedia that i t recognize i t s own temporal limitation. This spl i t between an actual recognition and an ideal desired is the basis for an ambivalence towards time. In the fictional encyclopaedia, this ambivalence is picked up and replayed In forms responding to the specificity of f i c t i o n . Thus, a tension between time and timelessness is worked out in the areas of motif, character and narrative: a desire to escape time, or a nostalgia for "prefall paradise peace" (30.27), is worked out in an obsession with the group "past-present-future," in the atemporal or multitemporal resonance of the characters, and in the replacement of linear narrative by the repetition and transformation of a few smaller narratives, myths or 74 "nodes." A l l this creates an effect of sameness in the midst of flux, of timeless order or epiphany breaking through the pressure of particular events, the mass of items of knowledge. A view of history as "not so much a continuous sequence of significant action/reaction as an impasto of activities breeding and feeding upon one another, producing nothing but more of the same in a slightly different order," suggests the temporal/atemporal tension that we have argued to underlie the enterprise of encyclopaedic gathering. Such a view of history recognizes the pressure of time upon events, but sees such pressure or limitation as working from a multitude of directions, thus creating an effect of c i r c u l a r i t y , or of an ultimate participation in something larger than, or escaping, time. This view of history, enacted in the fi c t i o n of the Wake, creates something like a "continuous present tense Integument slowly unfolded a l l marryvoising moodmoulded cyclewheeling history" (186.01-.02). - 153 -3 . a . P a s t - p r e s e n t - f u t u r e groups Joyce is preoccupied in the Wake with the alphabet, with that set suggesting both a totality ( a l l words are contained potentially within i t ) and i t s limitation ( i t is only letters, i t can always be exceeded, totality thereby being deferred). Often associated with an evocation of the alphabet, and occurring as regularly, is the temporal figure "past-present-future." This group enacts in the domain of time the same movement of indecision as is to be found in the alphabet, placing totality against its exceeding or against incompletion. In other words, the notion of a group, of a triad whose parts are never lacking, whose parts necessarily imply one another, suggests a totality or completed figure, even while a linear movement from past into future, always in progression (and hence in incompletion) is signified. The repetition and variation of this group in the text thus indicates i t s importance, indicates a fascination—in the midst of a feverish gathering and dispersal of elements of knowledge from a l l times—with the idea of a circl e of time what would fix and master such a process. The group, 7 6 then, in this indecision replays the Wake in miniature. Let us look at some variations on the "past-present-future" group or motif: But the world, mind, i s , was and w i l l be writing i t s own wrunes for ever . . . (19.35-.36) Time: the pressant. With futurist onehorse balletbattle pictures and the Pageant of Past History worked up with animal variations amid everglaning mangrovemazes and beorbtracktors by Messrs Thud and Blunder. (221.17-.21) - 154 -And among the shades that Eve's now wearing she'll meet anew fiancy, tryst and trow. Mammy was, Mimmy i s , Minuscoline's to be. . . . The same renew. (226.13-.17) . . . Thyme, that chef of seasoners, has made his usual astewte use of endadjustables and whatnot willbe isnor was . . . (236.27-.28) PANOPTICAL PURVIEW OF POLITICAL PROGRESS AND THE FUTURE PRESENTATION OF THE PAST. (272.09-.15) Then's now with now's then in tense continuant . . . who having has he shall have had. (598.28-.30) This selection should indicate the insistence of the temporal figure. We can see the variety of contexts in which i t is found, and the extent of the deformations or variations i t undergoes. A striking trait of i t s presentation is the frequent mixing of its parts; i t is not always given in the form "past-present-future," but present or future may precede past, and so on. This disrupts linear sequence and suggests an attitude toward time favouring circularity over lin e a r i t y , or at least breaking the line apart to create an impression of simultaneity. In the f i r s t example, a change in the order of the tenses suggests the simultaneity of a l l time in the world mind ("world, mind"). Such a mind contains a totality of secret knowledge, a knowledge that would take an in f i n i t e time to write down: " . . . w i l l be writing i t s own wrunes for ever. . . . " An i n f i n i t y of repeated action, of writing, suggested by "for ever," is inseparable from a temporal simultaneity, an instant in the world mind. In the second example, a l l time is contained in a series of pictures, where events are "worked up" and varied ("with animal variations") according to the logic - 155 -of the labyrinth ("mangrovemazes") and the circle ("beorbtracktors"). Past, present and future are mixed in one total picture; time, "the pressant" (pressing) appears to have no over-all order, events appear to follow the jungle-path, from moment to moment, of the labyrinth; yet the thunder of the gods ("Messrs Thud and Blunder") intervenes and sets cycles turning where no order prevailed. Vico's "orbs" or cycles of history also appear with our time-figure in the third example, above. Here, Eve (Anna) meets her "shades" or figures at a l l ages; as the f i r s t seductress, she sees herself "anew" in the figure of Isolde or Issy (suggested by the reference to Tristan, "tryst") and in a l l love-situations ("fiancy, tryst and trow"). This return of the same seduction is "the same renew," an echo of "the seim anew. Ordovico . . ." (215.24). Vico's "order," again, is the order of "was . . . i s . . .'s to be" as i t is worked through and prepares to turn upon i t s e l f (to "was") once again. The twist here is that as we work from past to future, we also go backward in time via the negative progression, 7 7 "Mammy was, Mimmy i s , Minuscoline's [Italian for "very tiny"] to be," the movement from Eve as mother to l i t t l e g i r l to baby (and from thence to some point of innocence from original s i n). This coordination of two 7 8 cycles of opposing direction recalls Yeats' negative gyres, and 79 repeats in miniature the over-all structure of the Wake. The fourth and f i f t h examples, by reversing the normal temporal perspective, by playing time backward, as i t were, create a perspective that might best be termed a "panoptical purview," an all-englobing or global view of time. This i s , of course, the perspective contained in - 156 -Vico's "ideal eternal history" or "universal history." Such a view is non-teleological: Instead of a progression toward a single end, there is a great circling toward no particular end, or toward "endadjustables." A l l tenses are "continuant" upon one another, as in the sixth example; they are indistinguishable ("who having has he shall have had"), in a manner especially evoked in Book IV. Here is the 81 " s t i l l point of the turning world" evoked by Eliot; i t is a moment of simultaneity or rest through which pass the flux, the repetitions and transformations, the voices, the information of the Wake. 3 . b . Multitemporal figures The tension in the fictional encyclopaedia between time "the pressant" and timelessness, a conflict enacted in the paradoxical "tense continuant" of Finnegans Wake and of Vico's historical cycles or s p i r a l s — t h i s tension is as much in evidence in the nature of character in the Wake as i t is in the "past-present-future" groups, above. Each character (or, more accurately, f i g u r e — i n the sense of figuration) is resonant with a number of different significations in time; each character exhibits, as archaeological strata, a number of avatars, "shades" or versions. This makes HCE, ALP, Shem, Shaun and Issy (as well as the Four Old Men and the Twelve Questioners) each something like the intersection of many times, many figures, in one figure. Their various incarnations belong to different Viconian ages, taking on 8 2 different properties according to the age; they are nonetheless, as repetitions, pointing to the same figure in this difference. Each, in - 157 -other words, embodies time in timelessness. Roland McHugh refers to this tra i t as "personality condensation"; there are so many persons in each character that he or she may be designated by a symbol—and each was designated as such by Joyce in his manuscripts: Personages such as j~H » & » C > /\ an& ~\, are fluid composites, involving an unconfined blur of h i s t o r i c a l , mythical and fi c t i t i o u s characters, as well as nonhuman elements. Joyce's technique of personality condensation is ultimately inseparable from his linguistic condensation. Coincidences of orthography and pronunciation are enforced wi^th indifference to the ostensible logic of their past. Characters from different times, as well as from different levels of re a l i t y , intersect in the composite figures which are the personages of the Wake. It is important to note here the emphasis on the linguistic nature of this "condensation." As the dream creates the rebus, so the Wake creates personages who conjoin and spell out a number of names. We may "read" behind HCE and ALP, via the punning principle of a similarity of sound, other names and hence other figures, just as we may read behind certain words or p