An English Murder in Finnegans Wake

Frederick Bywaters (left) with the Thompsons

Here's an extraordinary photograph of a love triangle, taken in July 1921. It shows Edith Thompson sitting between her lover, Frederick Bywaters, and her husband Percy. They seem unaware of the camera. Yet it looks as posed as a painting by Jack Vettriano,

On 3 October 1922, the Thompsons were returning to their Ilford home after a night watching a Ben Travers farce at London's Criterion theatre, when Bywaters leaped out of the bushes and fatally stabbed Percy. 

Bywaters, who was quickly arrested, freely admitted his guilt. He told the police, 'The reason I fought with Thompson was because he never acted like a man to his wife. He always seemed several degrees lower than a snake.'  

Edith soon found herself accused alongside her lover. The police found more than sixty love letters she had sent him, in which she fantasised about Percy's death, and talked about giving him ground-up light bulbs to drink. When the couple were tried together, public sympathy was on the side of Bywaters, who was seen as having been manipulated by an older femme fatale.

They were found guilty, and hanged at exactly the same time, on 9 January 1923, in Holloway and Pentonville prisons. Edith fainted, and had to be held upright on the gallows by four warders. Her hangman, John Ellis, was traumatised by the execution and later killed himself. Bywaters' last words on the scaffold were, 'They are hanging an innocent woman'.      

'The mystery man is the husband.' James Joyce

James Joyce was fascinated by the case, which he followed in the English newspapers. He discussed it with his young Irish friend, Arthur Power:

'–The mystery man in the case is the husband, remarked Joyce, the immovable mass before the irresistible force so deeply bedded in his habits that anything outside seemed to him unreal: and of him we have no clear picture. But one thing I am certain of is that if all this had happened in France they would not have been executed, and I think that English justice was at fault in trying them side by side....I think it was gruesome and inhuman for the judge to try them the way he did....There was no real evidence against her,  in spite of all her letters saying she had given her husband this, and there was not a trace of any poison, glass etc., found in his body, and it took Bywaters' six-shilling knife to finish him off. Also at the trial she swore she had given her husband nothing, and it was all fantasy...for her mind was evidently full of the stuff she had been reading, while she wrote those letters to make her seem romantic in his eyes because in turn he used to taunt her with descriptions of his life while on his voyages.  
   As a picture I can see it all clearly, Ilford – the dark streets with dim lights showing behind the yellow window-blinds, and from a distance a soft wind coming up with a raw smell of fish and chips on it, the Thompsons walking arm in arm under the trees when this young man suddenly dashes out and stabs him, her crying and wailing, and her search, or pretended search, for help. I can smell the English effluvia here – and it reminds me...yes...of the Strand, say, on a Saturday night, the huddles of people in the passage outside the pubs; the sudden fights; the traffic-weary streets; the arc-lights shining down on the muddy tramped pavements. I remember how I disliked it all and I decided that I could never have become part of English life...'
                                                Arthur Power, Conversations with James Joyce, 1974 

From René Weis' Criminal Justice which is online here

Joyce uses the case repeatedly in Finnegans Wake. So Bywaters's description of Percy as 'several degrees lower than a snake' can be found on page 36: 'a creature in youman form who was quite beneath parr and several degrees lower than yore triplehydrad snake.'

FREDERICK BYWATERS AND ST KEVIN

In the spring and summer of 1923, only a few months after the lovers were hanged, Joyce wrote the earliest sketches for Finnegans Wake.  They included this comic hagiography on the childhood of St Kevin of Glendalough:

'Shortly after having swum into this vale of tears the little stranger Kevineen delighted himself by sporting with the sponge on tubbing night. As a growing boy under the influence of holy religion which had been instilled into him across his grandmother old Mrs Jones's knee he grew more and more pious and abstracted like the time God knows when, ejaculating for forty days indulgence and ten quarantines, he sat down on the plate of mutton broth.

He simply had no time for girls and things and often used to say to his dearest mother and dear sisters as how his dearest mother and dear sisters were good enough for him.  Of him we are further told that at the age of six he wrote a school prize essay on kindness to freshwater fish.'

In a brilliant piece of literary detection, Vincent Deane discovered that the source for this was an interview with Bywaters' mother, published in December 1922:

'It was only last year that we knew of his friendship with Mrs. Thompson, and, as far as I know, she was the first woman outside his family circle he ever cared for. In his young days he simply had no time for girls. He used to say that his sisters were good enough for him, and that there was no girl in Manor Park to equal them....His school reports always bore high marks, and he won quite a number of prizes and certificates, especially for essay-writing. One essay I shall always remember. The subject was “Kindness to Dumb Animals,” and it gained for him the first prize in his class.'

'My Boy's Life: By His Mother', The Daily Sketch, 15 December 1922

THE PLEBISCITE

Vincent Deane discovered another article in The Daily Sketch of the 14 December 1922, also used by Joyce. The newspaper placed the blame for the crime on Edith and organised a petition for the reprieve of Bywaters.  Over a million people signed the petition.

In the article, 'Petition for the Reprieve of Bywaters is Ready Today', members of the public were asked for their opinion about Bywaters' guilt. Joyce used this as the basis for his 'Plebiscite' section (pages 58 on), where members of the public give their verdict on the guilt of HCE.

Here's a quote from the newspaper, followed by Joyce's comic and surreal transformation of it in the Wake: 

'Three soldiers were walking together in Fleet-street; one gave an opinion in which all concurred. It was the woman who was to blame. Bywaters played a bad part in the crime, but he was coerced. He proved himself a man afterwards.' Daily Sketch
 

'Tap and pat and tapatagain, (fire firstshot, Missiers the Refuseleers! Peingpeong! For saxonlootie!) three tommix, soldiers free, cockaleak and cappapee, of the Coldstream. Guards were walking, in (pardonnez-leur, je vous en prie, eh?) Montgomery Street. One voiced an opinion in which on either wide (pardonnez!), nodding, all the Finner Camps concurred (je vous en prie, eh?). It was the first woman, they said, souped him, that fatal wellesday, Lili Coninghams, by suggesting him they go in a field.'  58.23

 

Here's the Daily Sketch again:

'A dustman named Churches, in the employ of the City Corporation, said:— "We have been discussing the case at our wharf, and most of the fellows will sign the petition; in fact, I believe we shall all sign it. Bywaters is only a young fellow, and ought to be let off the death sentence. The woman dominated him and led him astray.'  

In the Wake, this became:

'A dustman nocknamed Sevenchurches in the employ of Messrs Achburn, Soulpetre and Ashreborn, prairmakers, Glintalook, was asked by the sisterhood the vexed question during his midday collation of leaver and buckrom alternatively with stenk and kitteney phie in a hash-housh and, thankeaven, responsed impulsively: We have just been propogandering his nullity suit and what they took out of his ear among my own crush. All our fellows at O’Dea’s sages with Aratar Calaman he is a cemented brick, buck it all!' 59.16

'Miss Sheila Courtenay, who is appearing in “The Cat and the Canary” at the Shaftesbury Theatre, put the same view: “I do sincerely hope,” she said, “that Bywaters will not be hanged. He is very young, and was egged on by a woman older than himself to do what he did. And then he has been so wonderful in his behaviour at the Old Bailey.”'  Daily Sketch

This inspired the Wake's actress ('One of our coming Vauxhall ontheboards who is resting for the moment' 58.33) who says 'it has been such a wanderful noyth untirely' 59.13

'A taxicab driver: Bywaters is a silly young fellow, but he ought not to pay the full penalty.'  

Daily Sketch

'A more nor usually sober cardriver, who was jauntingly hosing his runabout, Ginger Jane, took a strong view.' 59.24

'A sailor, on the Embankment, was encouraged to speak by his fiancée, and said: I think the woman was more to blame than Bywaters, but I think there was someone else in it.' Daily Sketch

'Meagher, a naval rating, seated on one of the granite cromlech setts of our new fishshambles for the usual aireating after the ever popular act, with whom were Questa and Puella, piquante and quoite, (this had a cold in her brain while that felt a sink in her summock, wit’s wat, wot’s wet) was encouraged, although nearvanashed himself, by one of his co-affianced to get your breath, Walt, and gobbit and when ther chidden by her fastra sastra to saddle up your pance, Naville, thus cor replied to her other’s thankskissing: I lay my two fingerbuttons, fiancee Meagher, (he speaks!) he was to blame about your two velvetthighs up Horniman’s Hill — as hook and eye blame him or any other piscman? — but I also think, Puellywally, by the siege of his trousers there was someone else behind it — you bet your boughtem blarneys — about their three drummers down Keysars Lane. (Trite!).'  61.13

In the first draft, from the Digital Archive, Joyce's text was very close to the source: 

'Three soldiers of the Coldstream Guards were walking in Montgomery street. One gave an opinion in which all concurred. It was the women, they said, he showed himself a man afterwards. A coming actress who has been called by 1 critic ‘a vestpocket Siddons’ was interviewed in a beauty parlour and while righting her cartwheel hat, said she hoped he would get an Xmas pardon as the world had been unkind to him. Then he has been so truly wonderful, she added. A dustman named Churches in the employ of Bullwinkle and McTigue was asked the question in a hashhouse and replied: We have just been discussing the case. All the fellows say he is a gameya one. A taxidriver took a strong view and said: Earywigger is a damned scoundrel in private life but folks say he has parliamentary privilege. A barmaid: it would be a shame to jail him on account of his health. Brian Linskey the boy curser, was questioned & gave a snappy comeback: I'm for caveman sex life, curse it! Them two whores ought to get strangled or axed. Mrs Ida Wombwell, the 17 old daring revivalist said of the fusiliers incident with the rosiest of cheeks: That man is a brute — but he is a magnificent brute. Sylvia Silence, the girl detective, said when told of all the facts:  Have you thought Greatness was his tragedy but he should pay the full penalty. The ends of justice must not be earwigged. A sailor seated on the granite setts of the fish market, was encouraged to speak by his fiancée & said I think he was to blame about the two slaveys |bas he had a perfect right, but I think there was someone else behind it about the 3 drummers.'

 

EDITH AND THE VOICE OF ISSY

In 1931, Joyce read Filson Young's 1923 book of the Trial, which presents the execution of Edith as a miscarriage of justice:

'Bywaters was not the innocent young lad that his defenders presented to the jury; Edith Thompson was not the corrupt, malignant sorceress portrayed by the prosecution.... Bywaters, as I read his character, was totally devoid of imagination; actions were his only realities. Edith Thompson had an excess of imagination. To her actions were unimportant. Her chief consciousness was hardly ever in what she was doing at. the time, but inhabited a world of dreams and make-believe.'

The book includes transcripts of Edith's letters, where she often addresses Bywaters as 'darlint'.  Just as Joyce used Bywaters as a model for Shaun (Kevin), he used Edith's letters in creating the voice of Issy.

Here's a key letter quoted on p.78 of the book, used in the cross-examination of Edith:

In Finnegans Wake, Joyce used this in a description of Issy, stuck with Chuff (Shaun) while pining for Glugg (Shem):

'If he's at anywhere she's therfor to join him. If it's to nowhere she's going to too.'  226.08

A few lines later, we have the chilling phrase, 'Glugg's got to swing' (226.20).

There's another echo, of 'like things are', in a few pages:

'Stop up, mavrone, and sit in my lap, Pepette, though I'd much rather not. Like things are m.ds. is all in vincibles' 232.25-6

'm.ds' is probably an abbreviation of 'my darlingest'.  The echoes of this letter were spotted by Adaline Glasheen in  her Third Census of Finnegans Wake, 1977.

Here's Issy speaking:

'My latest lad’s loveliletter I am sore I done something with. I like him lots coss he never cusses. Pity bon- hom. Pip pet. I shouldn’t say he’s pretty but I’m cocksure he’s shy. Why I love taking him out when I unletched his cordon gate. Ope, Jack, and atem! Obealbe myodorers and he dote so. He fell for my lips, for my lisp, for my lewd speaker. I felt for his strength, his manhood, his do you mind? There can be no candle to hold to it, can there?' 459.33

This echoes another letter on p187 of the trial book.

Here's Issy again:

'As for she could shake him. An oaf, no more. Still he’d be good tutor two in his big armschair lerningstoel and she be waxen in his hands. Turning up and fingering over the most dantellising peaches in the lingerous longerous book of the dark. Look at this passage about Galilleotto! I know it is difficult but when your goche I go dead. Turn now to this patch upon Smacchiavelluti!' 251.21

This is taken from three of Edith's letters. Here she's describing a character in Robert Hichen's novel, The Slave:

'Aubrey — I could shake him — no go — no initiative of his own... oh an ass — nothing more'

The 'good tutor' comes from another letter:

 'I was told I was the vilest tempered girl living & "you used not to be, but you're under a very good tutor"'

The rest comes from this letter:

'Darlingest lover of mine, thank you, thank you, oh thank you a thousand times for Friday – it was lovely – its always lovely to go out with you. And then Saturday – yes I did feel happy – I didn’t think a teeny bit about anything in this world, except being with you – and all Saturday evening I was thinking about you – I was just with you in a big arm chair in front of a great big fire feeling all the time how much I had won – cos I have darlint, won such a lot – it feels such a great big thing to me sometimes – that I can’t breathe....It seems like a great welling up of love – of feeling – of inertia, just as if I am wax in your hands – to do with as you will and I feel that if you do as you wish I shall be happy, its physical purely and I can’t really describe it – but you will understand darlint won’t you? You said you knew it would be like this one day – if it hadn’t would you have been disappointed. Darlingest when you are rough, I go dead – try not to be please.'

Raphael Slepon's wonderful Finnegans Wake Extensible Elucidation Treasury website lists almost fifty uses of the case, including all the letter quotations. These were all identified by Vincent Deane in his article 'Bywaters and the Original Crime', which is online here.

Deane was able to identify Joyce's sources thanks to his working notebooks, now in the University of Buffalo. These Buffalo notebooks are full of lists of foreign words, overheard conversations, and phrases lifted from hundreds of books and newspapers, which Joyce used as the basic building blocks of his book. His notes on the newspaper reports of murder case are all in VI.B.10, dated to October 1922-January 1923. His notes from Edith's letters are in VI.B.33, from February-April 1931.

'I am quite content to go down to posterity as a scissors and paste man for that seems to me a harsh but not unjust description.'

Joyce to George Antheil, 3 January 1931.

'Every dimmed letter in it is a copy and not a few of the silbils and wholly words I can show you in my Kingdom of Heaven....The last word in stolentelling!' 424.32

The names Bywaters and Thompson never appear in Finnegans Wake. Without Joyce's notebooks, and the detective work of Vincent Deane and Adaline Glasheen, it's unlikely that anyone would have spotted the book's references to the famous murder case.  

So what was Joyce up to in writing a book in this extraordinary way? I think that J.S.Atherton provides the answer in The Books at the Wake:

'Joyce believed that his words were 'Words of silent power' (345.19)....The book was indeed his life and he believed that he was entrapping some part of the essence of life within its pages....Joyce was not in his own opinion simply writing a book, he was also performing a work of magic.'

In Joyce's mind, phrases taken from other sources carried over the power of those sources, which then charged Finnegans Wake with significance. Joyce told a party of friends, 'Really it is not I who am writing this crazy book. It is you, and you, and you, and that man over there, and that girl at the next table.'  

...and Edith Thompson and Frederick Bywaters.

Here's the whole Daily Sketch article, from Vincent Deane's article

At the Gaiety

On Sunday, our last day at Dublin Theatre Festival,  Lisa and I went to the Gaiety Theatre to see the matinee of Waiting for Godot. The Gaiety is one of the most beautiful theatres in the world, with a stunning interior by Frank Matcham. It was also James Joyce's favourite theatre, and it appears in almost all his books. Just as the Mullingar House is the principal pub in Finnegans Wake, the Gaiety is the book's main theatre.

We've been to the Gaiety once before, in 1987, to see Niall Toibin in Borstal Boy. Toibin, who has spent most of his life impersonating Brendan Behan, did a brilliant job, catching the North Dublin accent and the suggestion of a stammer. Have a listen to Toibin reading the end of Borstal Boy, from his album, 'Being Behan'. Back in 1987, we were annoyed by the audience, who burst into applause every time Toibin swore.

The Gaiety is a major Dublin institution, and the palm prints of the performers who've played there are cast in bronze on the street outside. Here's Milo O'Shea, who played Leopold Bloom in the film of Ulysses.

Here's the great Ronnie Drew of the Dubliners.

The Godot production was by Gare St Lazare, who specialise in Beckett. They usually stage one-man shows by the brilliant Conor Lovett, who speaks Beckett's prose in the most natural way. We went to a post-show talk by him in Brighton in May when he said that, if he could write, he would write just like Beckett.

Lovett's Vladimir formed a great comic double-act with Gary Lydon's Estragon. By the way,

A Gaiety pint to suspend my disbelief

Lydon is the spitting image of Brendan Behan! I also loved Gavan O'Herlihy's American accented Pozzo and Tadgh Murphy's astonishing Lucky, whose long speech got the Gaiety audience applauding again. But this is no place to be reviewing Samuel Beckett, except to say that his career was a reaction against James Joyce. He told his biographer, James Knowlson:

'I realized that Joyce had gone as far as one could in the direction of knowing more, [being] in control of one’s material. He was always adding to it; you only have to look at his proofs to see that. I realized that my own way was in impoverishment, in lack of knowledge and in taking away, in subtracting rather than in adding.'

In the theatre programme, the director, Judy Hegarty Lovett quoted the physicist Richard P. Feynman, to describe her feelings about the play:

'I can live with doubts and uncertainty and not knowing. I think it's more interesting to live not knowing than to have answers which might be wrong...I don't feel frightened by not knowing things, by being lost in a mysterious universe without having any purpose, which is the way it really is so far as I can tell. It doesn't frighten me.'

That strikes me as even more applicable to Finnegans Wake. When you read Joyce's book, you are certainly 'lost in a mysterious universe'.

The Gaiety was built in 1871 by the Gunn brothers, Michael and John. There's a bust of John Gunn on the stairs, but it's Michael who appears repeatedly in Ulysses and Finnegans Wake. He was a friend of Joyce's father, John Stanislaus, who often took his family to the Gaiety. In the Wake, Gunn is another identity for the hero, HCE, appearing as 'Mr Makeall Gone' (220.24) and 'Daddy Gunne' (104.08) among others.

The theatre is also named many times, and is described in detail on page 32: 'that king's treat house of satin alustrelike above floats and footlights...' (a play on the address, South King's Street).

The Gaiety has always been famous for its Christmas pantomimes, and in Ulysses there are memories of seeing Turko the Terrible and Sinbad the Sailor there. One of Stephen Dedalus's most touching memories of his recently dead mother is of her laughing at the Gaiety pantomime:

'She heard old Royce sing in the pantomime of Turko the Terrible and laughed with others when he sang:

I am the boy
That can enjoy
Invisibility.'

W.G.Wills' A Royal Divorce, about Napoleon and Josephine, was another play the young
Joyce saw at the Gaiety and never forgot. It starred the actor manager, W.W.Kelly as Napoleon, with his wife playing Josephine. J.S.Atherton, who tracked a manuscript copy of the play down, describes its astonishing final tableau:

'A backcloth showing the scene of Waterloo was pierced with holes which were
intermittently lit up to represent the firing of cannon. In front of this models of cavalrymen were wound forward on glass runners while 'Pepper ghosts' of cuirassiers produced by a sort of magic lantern, fell dramatically to their death in the clouds of white smoke that filled the stage. In the foreground on a big white horse, rode Napoleon, or sometimes - apparently when Mr Kelly wanted a rest - Wellington. It made no difference to the play who was on the horse as nothing was said.' The Books at the Wake.

This scene is re-enacted in Finnegans Wake ('This is the Willingdone on his same white harse....This is the Willingdone hanking the half of the hat of lipoleums up the tail on the buckside of his big white harse' pages 8-9) and referred to many times elsewhere in the book.

In his library, Joyce owned a copy of an 1896 booklet called the Souvenir of the Twenty-Fifth Anniversary of Gaiety Theatre. The cover shows the Gunn brothers at the top, with Michael on the right.

You can read the whole booklet here. I looked it up in Raphael Slepons' wonderful 'Finnegans Wake Estensible Elucidation Treasury' website, and found that Joyce quotes from the booklet in the Wake twelve times.

J.S.Atherton also talks about Joyce's use of the booklet and the many appearances in the Wake of the actors and actresses who once performed at the Gaiety:

'Nearly all of them are now dead and many of them were not very well known outside Ireland when they were alive. But they were part of the set-up that 'made the world and how they used to be at that time in the vulgar ear...in the good old bygone days of Dion Boucicault the Elder...in the otherworld' (384.36). And Joyce recreates his 'other world' of the 'vulgarera' without any thought of making things easy for his readers to understand. In fact he seems to have decided that readers who were not prepared to study the Dublin of his youth did not deserve to understand his book.'

The Books at the Wake p151