JAMES JOYCE

Epiphanies
INTRODUCTI ON AND NOTES

0. A. S ILVERMAN

I 9 5 6

LOCKJVOOD MEMORIAL LIBRARY

UNIVERSITY OF BUFFALO
COPYRIGHT 1956 UNIVERSITY OF BUFFALO
EPIPHANIES
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TH IS book was designed by William

Watson at his Easy Hill Press in Snyder,

New York. Composition was performed

by G. M. Schultz, H. Stenman and

D. J, Schmid; R. H. Kelley completed

presswork at the firm or Wm. J. Keller

Inc. in Buffalo. The binding is the work

or M. M. Bork and Sons. There are 550

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sale. This is number

 CON T ENTS

INTRO DUCTI ON lX

EPIPHANIES 1

APPENDIX 23

NOTE 31

\11
 IN T RODU C T ION

"Ineluctable modality of the visible . . .

thought through my eyes .. . Signatures
of all things I am here to read ... col­
oured sign.Limits of the diaphane."
-Ulysses

OST readers of Joyce first encountered

M his use of the word 'epiphany' on page
41 of Ulysses, in the Proteus episode. On
the strand, Stephen says to himself: "Remem­
ber your epiphanies on green oval leaves, deep­
ly deep, copies to be sent if you died to all the
great libraries of the world, including Alexan­
dria?" Many speculated about Joyce's use of
the word; but until the publication of Profes­
sor Harry Levin's James Joyce: A Critical
Introduction, in 1941, and the late Professor
Theodore Spencer's edition of the hitherto un-

IX
published fragment, Stephen Hero, in 1944,
little more than inspired guesswork associated
the passage from Ulysses with the esthetic the­
ory expounded by Stephen in A Portrait of the
Artist as a Young Man. The central part bf the
passage reads: " The radiance .. . is the scho­
lastic quidditas, the whatness of a thing. This
supreme quality is felt by the artist when the
esthetic image is first conceived in his imagina­
tion. The mind in that mysterious instant Shel­
ley likened beautifully to a fading coal. The
instant wherein that supreme quality of beauty,
the clear radiance of the esthetic image, is ap­
prehended luminously by the mind which has
been arrested by its wholeness and fascinated
by its harmony is the luminous, silent stasis of
esthetic pleasure, a spiritual state very like to
that cardiac condition which the Italian phys­
iologist Luigi Galvani, using a phrase almost
as beautiful as Shelley's, called the enchant­
ment of the heart. "
In the writing of his critical work, Mr. Le­
vin had the advantage of using the manuscript

x
of Stephen Hero, which had been acquired by
the Harvard College Library and was then
awaiting publication. (Spencer had, however,
already described it in the Summer 1941 issue
of The Southern Review.) Mr. Levin gave an
excellent account of the technique of the
epiphany: "the single word that tells the whole
story ...the simple gesture that reveals a com­
plex set of relationships. "
Stephen Hero was published in 1 944; and
readers had available Joyce's or Stephen's own
words. He had heard, passing through Eccles'
street one evening "the following fragment of
colloquy out of which he received an impres­
sion keen enough to afflict his sensitiveness
very severely.
The Young Lady-{drawling discreetly) . . .
0, yes . . . Iwas ...at the ...cha . ..pel . . .
The Young Gentleman-(inaudibly) . . .I.. .
(again inaudibly) ...I...
The Young Lady-{softly) . . . 0 . . . but
you're ...ve ...ry ...wick ... ed . . .

Xl
 "This triviality made him think of collec·
ting many such moments together in a book of
epiphanies.By an epiphany he meant a sudden
spiritual manifestation, whether in the vulgar­
ity of speech or of gesture or in a memorable
phase of the mind itself.He believed that it
was for the man of letters to record these
epiphanieswith extreme care, seeing that they
themselves are the most delicate and evanes­
cent of moments."
Thence he continues, with Cranly, to de­
velop his esthetic theory(which is later refined
in A Portrait): ...the third quality. This is
"

the moment which I call epiphany. First we

recognize that the object isone integral thing,
then we recognize that it is an organized
composite structure, a thing in fact: finally,
when the relation of the parts is exquisite,
when the parts are adjusted to the special
point, we recognize that it is that thing which
it is.Its soul, its whatness, leaps to us from
the vestment of its appearance. The soul of
the commonest object, the structure of which

Xll
is so adjusted, seems to us radiant. The ob­
ject achieves its epiphany."
But the word epiphany, recalled fleetingly,
by Stephen, in Ulysses and now made explicit
to us in Stephen Hero, does not appear in A
Portrait unless by implication in the passage
quoted above.
Is the 'theory of epiphany'-if it may be
so called-to be taken seriously? Or is it
youthful self-consciousness playing with
words? The latter view gains some substan­
tiation if the reader examines the position it
holds in Stephen Hero. Stephen is speaking to
a hostile and stolid Cranly, dramatically and
silently a critic of the deliberate transfer by
his companion of religious terminology to
esthetic. In addition, the passage early in
Ulysses is clearly self-depreciatory. The con­
cluding sentence in that passage from which
I have already quoted suggests the stern judg­
ment of the mature Joyce: 'When one reads
these strange pages of one long gone one feels
that one is at one with one who once .. .'

Xlll
 Yet both Miss Irene Hendry in her ex­
tended essay, "Joyce's Epiphanies, " and Mr.
Levin make, each in his own way, penetrating
comments suggesting that the theory of the
epiphany may explain much of Joyce's major
work.
Mr. Levin is the more connotative; Miss
Hendry is the more strict and limiting. She
discriminates four techniques of epiphany:
"the moment of revelation without its nar­
rative base; " the effect of the moment of
revelation on the beholder-"Stephen or
ourselves through Stephen; " the modification
of the image "with its radiance attached to
itself rather than to a perceiving conscious­
ness;" and the revelation of "an individual
essence by means of a detail or an object to
which it has only a fortuitous relation. " Val­
uable as her definitions are, she does, I think,
demand more precision than the subject
allows.Mr.Hugh Kenner in his provocative
essay, "The Portrait in Perspective, " seems
to me continually to shift the meaning of

XIV
epiphany, suggestively, to be sure: often he
makes the term carry too much weight. Yet
he states succinctly a central point: the
"treatment of particular manifestations as a
signature of metaphysical reality is the com­
mon mode of Joyce's writing."
The notes called Epiphanies in the Wickser
collection in the Lockwood Memorial Li­
brary of the University of Buffalo may be
used to verify any point of view: from the
simplicity that the epiphany was a youthful
esthetic pose soon given up, to the com­
plexity that the epiphany is central to an
understanding even of Finnegans Wake.
There are twenty-two of them, neatly and
carefully written on separate sheets of ruled
paper measuring 24 x 18 centimetres (except
for number 12 which is only 20� centimetres
long). A comparison of the handwriting with
that of Stephen Hero and an acceptance of
the reasoning of Spencer establish the date
between 1904 and 1906. And since they are
recorded with more than usual care, and pre-

xv
served separately from the mass of other
manuscript material in the Wickser collection,
one is tempted to see them not only as youthful
exercises but also as early statements of many
of Joyce's important themes.
Every reader will, of course, make his
own comparisons with the body of Joyce's
work. I have, in an appendix, noted only a
few of the more obvious; but even so cur­
sory a list indicates a close relationship be­
tween these Epiphanies and Stephen Hero.
Resemblances to many other passages will
await serious consideration from literary
scholars; and undoubtedly other materials in
the Wickser collection will clarify and ex­
pand theories of Joyce's methods of work.
Even with the evidence at hand, one may
confidently say that, like another Irishman,
Oliver Goldsmith, Joyce wasted very few of
his early artistic impressions.

XVI
EPIPHANIES
 (( I ))

Dublin:
[ at Sheehy's, Belvedere Place]
Joyce-I knew you meant him. But you're
wrong about his age.
Maggie Sheehy-(/eans forward to speak se­
riously) Why, how old is he?
Joyce-Seventy-two.
Maggie Sheehy-Is he?

1
 (( II ))

[Dublin: at Sheehy's, Belvedere Place]

Fallon-(as he passes)-I was told to con­
gratulate you especially on your performance.
Joyce-Thank you.
Blake-(after a pause) . . I'd never advise any­
one to . . . 0, it's a terrible life! .. ..
Joyce-Ha.
Bla ke-(between puffs of smoke)-Of course
.. .it looks all right from the outside ... to
those who don't know . .. .But if you knew
....it's really terrible.A bit of a candle, no
. .. dinner, squalid ... .poverty.You've no
idea simply . . . .

2
 (( III ) )

[Dublin: atS heehy's, BelvederePlace]

Dick S heehy-What's a lie? Mr.S peaker, I
must ask ...
Mr.S heehy-Order, order!
Fallon-You know it's a lie!
Mr.S heehy-You must withdraw, sir.
Dick S heehy-As I was saying ....
Fallon-No, I won't.
Mr. S heehy-I call on the honourable mem­
ber for Denbigh .... Order, order! ...

3
 (( IV ))

[Dublin: in the National Library]

Skeffington-I was sorry to hear of the death
of your brother .... sorry we didn't know in
time .....to have been at the funeral .....
Joyce-0, he was very young ....a boy ... .

Skeffington-Still ..... it hurts ....

4
 (( v ))

[London: in a house at Kennington]

Eva Leslie-Yes, Maudie Leslie's my sister
an' Fred Leslie's my brother-yev 'eard of
FredLeslie? . (musing) ...0, 'e's a whoite-
. . .

arsed bugger...'E's awoy at present .......

(later)
I told you someun went with me ten toimes
one noight ....That'sFred-my own brother
Fred . .(musing) .. 'Eis 'andsome
. . . 0 I
. . .

do love Fred ....

5
 (( VI ))

[Bray: in the parlour of the houi>e

in Martello Terrace]
Mr.Vance-(comes in with a stick) ... 0, you
know, he'll have to apologise, Mrs. Joyce.
Mrs. Joyce-0 yes . . . Do you hear that,
Jim?
Mr. Vance -Or else -if he doesn't-the
eagles'll come and pull out his eyes.
Mrs.Joyce-0, but I'm sure he will apologise.
Joyce-(under the table, to himself)

-Pull out his eyes,

Apologise,
Apologise,
Pull out his eyes.

Apologise,
Pull out his eyes,
Pull out his eyes,
Apologise.

6
 (( VII ))

A white mist is falling in slow flakes.The path

leads me down to an obscure pool. Something
is moving in the pool; it is an arctic beast with
a rough yellow coat. Ithrust in my stick and
as he rises out of the water Isee that his back
slopes towards the croup and th�t he is very
sluggish.Iam not afraid but, thrusting at him
often with my stick drive him before me. He
moves his paws heavily and mutters words of
some language which I do not understand.

7
 (( VIII ))

[
Dublin: at the corner of Connaught St,
Phibsborough]
The Little Male Chi ld-(at the garden gate)
. Na ..o.
.

The First Young Lady-{ha/f kneeling, takes

his hand)-Well is Mabie your sweetheart?
,

The Little Male Child-Na ... o.

The Second Young Lady-{bending over him,
looks up)- Who is your sweetheart?

8
 (( IX ))

[Dublin: on Mountjoy Square]

Joyce-( concludes) . . . . That'll be forty thou­

sand pounds.
Aunt Lillie--{titters)-0, laus ! . . . .I was like
that too . . . . . . . . . \Vhen I was a girl I was
sure I'd marry a lord ...or something ...
Joyce--{thinks)-Is it possible she's compar­
ing herself with me?

[The following appears in pencil in the ms.]

Kinahan
Civilizing work of the Jesuit in Paraguay,
Mexico and Peru and in the Seychelle Islands,
described as an earthly paradise the nomad
races into seductions, wardance.

9
 (( x ))

Yes, they are the two sisters. She who is

churning with stout arms (their butter is fa­
mous) looks dark and unhappy: the other is
happy because she had her way. Her name is
R . . .Rina.I know the verb 'to be' in their
.

language.
-Are you Rina?-
1 knew she was.
But here he is himself in a coat with tails and
an old-fashioned high hat. He ignores them:
he walks along with tiny steps, jutting out the
tails of his coat ....My goodness! how small
he is! He must be very old and vain . . . . .
Maybe he isn't what I ...It's funny that those
two big women fell out over this little man
. . . . But then he's the greatest man in the
world ....

10
 (( XI ))

[
Dublin: at Sheehy's, Belvedere Place]
Hanna Sheehy-0, there are sure to be great
crowds.
Skeffington-In fact it'll be, as our friend Jo­
cax would say, the day of the rabblement.
Maggie Sheehy-(declaims)-Even now the
rabblement may be standing by the door!

11
 (( XII ))

She stands, her book held lightly at her

breast, reading the lesson. Against the dark
stuff of her dress her face, mild-featured with
downcast eyes, rises softly outlined in light;
and from a folded cap, set carelessly forward,
a tassel falls along her brown ringletted
hair .
. .

What is the lesson that she reads-of

apes, of strange inventions, or the legends of
martyrs? Who knows how deeply meditative,
how reminiscent is this comeliness of Raf­
faello?

12
 (( XIII ))

[
Dublin: in the Stag's Head,Dame Lane ]
O'Mahony-Haven't you that little priest
that writes poetry over there-Fr Russell?
Joyce-0, yes ...I hear he has written verses.
O'Mahony--{sm;/ing adroitly) . Verses, yes
. .

• •that's the proper name for them ....

.

13
 ({ XIV ))

Two mourners push on through the crowd.

The girl, one hand catching the woman's
skirt, runs in advance. The girl's face is the
face of a fish, discoloured and oblique-eyed;
the woman's face is small and square, the
face of a bargainer. The girl, her mouth dis­
torted, looks up at the woman to see if it is
time to cry; the woman, settling a flat bonnet,
hurries on towards the mortuary chapel.

14
 (( xv ))

She comes at rught when the city is still; in­

visible, inaudible, all unsummoned. She
comes from her ancient seat to visit the least
of her children, mother most venerable, as
though he had never been alien to her. She
knows the inmost heart; therefore she is
gentle, nothing exacting; saying, I am sus­
ceptible of change, an imaginative influence
in the hearts of my children. Who has pity
for you when you are sad among the stran­
gers? Years and years I loved you when you
lay in my womb.

15
 (( XVI ))

The human crowd swarms in the enclosure,

moving through the slush. A fat woman
passes, her dress lifted boldly, her face noz­
zling in an orange. A pale young man with a
Cockney accent does tricks in his shirtsleeves
and drinks out of a bottle. A little old man
has mice on an umbrella; a policeman in
heavy boots charges down and seizes the
umbrella: the little old man disappears.
Bookies are bawling out names and prices;
one of them screams with the voice of a
child-"Bonny Boy!" "Bonny Boy! " .. .
Human creatures are swarming in the en­
closure, moving backwards and forwards
through the thick ooze. Some ask if the race
is going on; they are answered "Yes" and
"No." A band begins to play ... ..A beau-
.

tiful brown horse, with a yellow rider upon

him, flashes far away in the sunlight.

16
 (( XVII ) )

Dublin:
[ in the house in Glengariff
Parade: evening]
Mrs. Joyce-(crimson, trembling, appears at
the par/ow door) ...Jim!
Joyce-(at the piano) . .Yes?
.

Mrs. Joyce-Do you know anything about

the body? ..What ought I do? ... There's
some matter coming away from the hole in
Georgie's stomach ....Did you ever hear of
that happening?
Joyce-(surprised) ... I don't know ....
Mrs. Joyce-Ought I send for the doctor, do
you think?
Joyce-I don't know . . .... \Vhat hole?
Mrs. Joyce-(impatient) ..The hole we all
'·

have . .. ..here (points)

Joyce-(stands up)

17
 (( XVIII ))

[Dublin, on the North Circular Road:

Christmas]
Miss O'Callaghan-(/isps)-1 told you the
name, The Escaped Nun.
Dick Sheehy-(/oud/y)-0, I wouldn't read
a book like that ... I must ask Joyce. I say,
Joyce, did you ever read The Escaped Nun?
Joyce-I observe that a certain phenomenon
happens about this hour.
Dick Sheehy-What phenomenon?
Joyce-0 ... the stars come out.
Dick Sheehy-(to Miss O'Callaghan) . Did.

you ever observe how ...the stars come out

on the end of Joyce's nose about this hour?
.. (she smiles) ..Because I observe that phe­
.

nomenon

18
 (( XIX ))

[Mullingar: a Sunday in July: noon ]

Tobin-(walking noisily with thick boots and
tapping the road with his stick) .... 0 there's
nothing like marriage for making a fellow
steady. Before I came here to the Examiner I
used to knock about with fellows and boose ....
Now I've a good house and .....I go home
in the evening and if I want a drink ..... .
well, I can have it .... My advice to every
young fellow that can afford it is: marry young.

19
 (( xx ))

[ In Mullingar: an evening in autumn}

The Lame Beggar-(gripping his stick) . . . ..

It was you called out after me yesterday.
The Two Children-(gazi11g at lzim) ... No,
sir.
The Lame Beggar-0, yes it was, though . . . .

(moving his stick up and down) . ..But mind

.

what I'm telling you . D' ye see that stick?

...

The Two Children-Yes, sir.

The Lame Beggar-Well, if ye call out after
me any more I'll cut ye open with that stick.
I'll cut the livers out o' ye .. .(explains him­
.

seff) ... D' ye hear me? I'll cut ye open. I'll

cut the livers and the lights out o' ye.

20
 (( XXI ))

[
Dublin: at Sheehy's, Belvedere Place]
O'Reilly-(with developing seriousness) . . . .

Now it's my turn, I suppose . . .(quite seri­

. .

ously). .Who is your favourite poet?

. .

(a pause)
Hanna Sheehy-....... German?
O'Reilly -. ... Yes. . .

(a hush)
Hanna Sheehy-.. I think .....Goethe .....

21
 (( XXII ))

I lie along the deck, against the engine-house,

from which the smell of lukewarm grease ex­
hales. Gigantic mists are marching under the
French c liffs, enveloping the coast from head­
land to headland. The sea moves with the
sound of many scales ....Deyond the misty
\Yalls, in the dark cathedral church of Our
Lady, I hear the bright, even voices of boys
singing before the altar there.

22
 A P P E ND X
I

I N reading the Epiphanies alongside several

selected passages which I have reprinted here
from Joyce's published works, the reader will
have, I hope, not only the shock of recogni­
tion but also the gentler pleasure of evocation.
Some of the resemblances will be obvious to
all readers of Joyce; and many students will
recall significant passages which I have over­
looked.Passages reflecting some of the Epiph­
anies are too well known to be quoted.I have
also added several notes.

23
 I
-I knew you meant him.But you're wrong about
his age.
Others had heard this: but she was impressed by a
possible vastness of the unknown, complimented to
confer with one who conferred directly with the excep­
tional. She leaned forward to speak with soft serious­
ness.
-Why, how old is he?
-Over seventy.
-ls he?
-Stephen Hero, page 46

III
-Mr. Speaker, I must ask . . •

-Order! Order!
-You know it's a lie!
-You must withdraw, Sir.
-As I was saying before the honourable gentleman
interrupted we must ...
-I won't withdraw.
-I must ask honourable members to preserve or-
der in the House.
-I won't withdraw.
-Order! Order!
-Stephen Hero, page 45

24
 IV
-I was sorry to hear of the death of your sister . . .
sorry we didn't know in time ...to have been at the
funeral.
Stephen released his hand gradually and said:
-0, she was very young ... a girl.
Mccann released his hand at the same rate of re­
lease, and said:
-Still ...it hurts.
-Stephen Hero, page 169
VII
He doubled backwards into the past of humanity
and caught glimpses of emergent art as one might have
a vision of the pleisiosauros emerging from his ocean
of slime.
-Stephen Hero, page 33

From farther away, walking shoreward across from

the crested tide, figures, two. The two maries. They
have tucked it safe among the bulrushes. Peekaboo. I
see you. No, the dog. He is running back to them.
Who?
Galleys of the Lochlanns ran here to beach, in
quest of prey, their bloodbeaked prows riding low on
a molten pewter surf. Dane vikings, tores of toma­
hawks aglitter on their breasts when Malachi wore the

25
collar of gold. A school of turlehide whales stranded
in hot noon, spouting, hobbling in the shallows. Then
from the starving cagcwork city a horde of jerkined
dwarfs, my people, with flayers' knives, running, scal­
ir.g, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. Famine,
rlague ar.d slaughter. Their blood is in me, their lusts
my waves. I moved among them on the frozen Liffey,
that I, a changeling, among the spluttering resin fires.
I spoke to no-one: none to me.
The dog's bark ran towards him, stopped, ran
back. Dog of my enemy. I just simply stood pale, si­
lent, bayed about. Terribilia meditans.
- Ulysses, page 46

See also Finnegans Wake, pages 15-18.

VIII
-Tell us who is your sweetheart, spoke Edy
Boardman. Is Cissy your sweetheart?
-Nao, tearful Tommy said.
-Is Edy Boardman your sweetheart? Cissy que-
ried.
-Nao, Tommy said.
-I know, Edy Boardman said none too amiably
with an arch glance from her shortsighted eyes.I know

26
who is Tommy's sweetheart, Gerty is Tommy's sweet·
heart.
-Nao, Tommy said on the verge of tears.
-Ulysses, page 341

There is a situation somewhat similar in "The En·

counter."

XIII

"I presume this refers to Fr. Matthew Russell, S.J.,

1834-1912, brother of Lord Russell of Killowen. In
1906 he was in the community at St. Francis Xavier
Church, Upper Gardiner Street, where Fr. Conmee
was Provincial. He edited the "Irish Fireside " for
years, published a lot of the early Yeats verse, and
wrote much "verse " himself. I can't find that he was
teaching at University College Dublin in Joyce's time,
but he may well have been."

-A letter from Professor John Vincent Kelleher

XIV

Two of them who were late pushed their way vi­

ciously through the crowd. cA girl, one hand catching
the woman's skirt, r=!n a pace in advance. The girl's
face was the face of a fish, discoloured and oblique-

27
eyed; the woman's face was square and pinched, the
face of a bargainer. The girl, her mouth distorted,
looked up at the woman to see if it was time to cry:•
the woman, settling a flat bonnet, hurried on towards
the mortuary chapel.
-Stephen Hero, page 167

Mourners came out through the gates: woman and

a girl. Leanjawed harpy, hard woman at a bargain, her
bonnet awry. Girl's face stained with dirt and tears,
holding the woman's arm looking up at her for a sign
to cry. Fish's face, bloodless and livid.
-Ulysses, page 100

xv
His sin, which had covered him from the sight of
God, had led him nearer to the refuge of sinners. Her
eyes seemed to regard him with mild pity; her holiness,
a strange light glowing faintly upon her frail flesh, did
not humiliate the sinner who approached her. If ever
he was impelled to cast sin from him and to repent,
the impulse that moved him was the wish to be her
knight. If ever his soul, re-entering her dwelling shyly
after the frenzy of his body's lust had spent itself, was
turned towards her whose emblem is the morning star,
"bright and musical, telling of heaven and infusing
peace," it was when her names were murmured softly

28
by lips whereon there still lingered foul and shameful
words, the savour itself of a lewd kiss.
-A Portrait of the Artist
in The Portable James Joyce, page 356

Ugly and futile: lean neck and tangled hair and a

stain of ink, a snail's bed. Yet someone had loved him,
borne him in her arms and in her heart. But for her the
race of the world would have trampled him under foot,
a squashed boneless snail.She had loved his weak wa­
tery blood drained from her own.Was that then real?
.
The only true thing in life? His mother's prostrate body
the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode. She was no
more: the trembling skeleton of a twig burnt in the fire,
an odour of rosewood and wetted ashes. She had
saved him from being trampled under foot and had
gone, scarcely having been.
-Ulysses, page 28

THE MOTHER
Who saved you the night you jumped into the train
at Dalkey with Paddy Lee? Who had pity for you when
you were sad among the strangers? Prayer is all power­
ful. Prayer for the suffering souls in the Ursuline man­
ual, and forty days' indulgence. Repent, Stephen.

STEPHEN
The ghoul! Hyena!

29
 THE MOTHER
I pray for you in my other world. Get Dilly to make
you that boiled rice every night after your brain work.
Years and years I loved you, 0 my son, my firstborn,
when you lay in my womb.
-Ulysses, page 566

See also Finnegans Wake, pages 215-216, and 626

to end.

XVIII
Eugene Jolas, in his essay, "My Friend James
Joyce,'' reprinted in Givens' James Joyce: Two Decades
of Criticism tells of a sketch of Joyce he had commis­
sioned by the Spanish artist, Cesar Abin, for transi­
tion. "For more than two weeks (Joyce) kept <'.dding
new suggestions, until he was finally satisfied with it
. • . He asked that a star be put on the tip of his nose,
in memory of a criticaster's description of him as a
'blue-nosed comedian'."
-pages 8-9

30
 NOTE

I AM grateful to the copyright owners or the publish­

ers for permission to quote:
From Stephen Hero by James Joyce, edited by
Theodore Spencer, New Directions Books, New York,
1944.
From A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Afan by
James Joyce. Cop-yright 1916 by B. W. Huebsch, 1944
by Nora Joyce. Reprinted by permission of the
Viking Press, Inc., New York. Page references are
made to The Portable James Joyce, edited by Harry
Levin, The Viking Press, Inc., New York, 1947.
From Ulysses, Random House, New York, 1934.
From Finnegans Wake by James Joyce. Copyright
1939 by James Joyce. Reprinted by permission of
The Viking Press, Inc., New York.
From James Joyce: Two Decades of Criticism,
edited by Seon Givens, The Vanguard Press, New
York, 1948.

Miss Harriet Weaver, co-executor of the estate of

James Joyce, has kindly permitted the printing of the
Epiphanies which are now pHrt of the Wickser collec­
tion of Joyce's manuscripts and books in the Lock­
wood Memorial Library of the University ci Buffalo.
The drawing of Joyce by Brancusi is reproduced

31
through the kindness l't. the owner, Mrs. Marcel
Duchamp.
I have received valuable assistance from Profes­
sors Harry Levin and John Vincent Kelleher of Har­
vard Colkge, and especially from Mr. Charles D. Ab­
bott, Professor of English and Director of the Lock­
wood Memorial Library of the University of Buffalo.
Final checking of the manuscripts and printed
books has been done by Miss Anna Russell to whom
I offer my thanks. Any errors in transcribing are,
however, my own responsibility.

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