publisher colophon
  • Paul Léon and the Publication of The Mime of Mick, Nick and the Maggies

Getting James Joyce's works published during his lifetime was always a complicated—and, for most of his career, an unrewarding—enterprise.1 Many of the obstacles that had to be overcome were related to the daring experimentalism of his writing, which often challenged moral and aesthetic boundaries, but the writer, his agents, as well as his many publishers created a variety of other difficulties that also had to be surmounted before Joyce's works ultimately appeared in print. As a struggling and relatively unknown writer, he was often his own best advocate,2 but (on the advice of H. G. Wells) Joyce was pleased to retain the services of James B. Pinker as his literary agent in April 1915.3 While he conceded a year later that "no doubt Mr Pinker is a better man of business than I am (LI 95),"4 Joyce later seemed to relish criticizing Pinker for his lack of initiative and for his unresponsiveness to Joyce's numerous letters asking for news and, more to the point, royalties. Writers have the right to expect that their agents will negotiate beneficial contracts on their behalf, but Joyce had to realize that Pinker's half-hearted attitude was quite understandable given that his books were difficult to place and that the financial return for the writer and agent hardly seemed worth the effort, especially before Sylvia Beach's Shakespeare and Company published Ulysses in 1922. Up to that point, Harriet Shaw Weaver's Egoist Press was the only one of Joyce's publishers who bothered to pay him his royalties in full and on time.5

Soon after he had arranged the publishing contract for Ulysses in April 1921, Joyce wrote Weaver one of his many letters of complaint about his agent and other publishers:

I would probably have spared myself a great deal of profitless worry if I had forced Mr Huebsch's hand three months ago [about publishing [End Page 125] Ulysses in America]. I perceived a few minutes after my meeting with him that he considered me an embarrassing person and my books bad sellers but could not make up his mind to take a definite step. I may say that it is a year and a half or perhaps more since he forwarded me my royalties on my novel, my play or my stories. It seems strange that there should be no sales, however small. I am glad that you intend to make the arrangement you so promptly and kindly suggest without the intervention of Mr Pinker. If I thought that the matter was passing through his hands I should again give way to dejection.6

The arrangement Weaver proposed was to consolidate Joyce's other earlier works under the Egoist Press imprint in England.7 Just a few months later, after he had corrected the first setting of proofs for Ulysses, Joyce continued to vent his grievances to Weaver:

About three months ago I received a note of four lines from Mr Pinker to which I replied by a note of no lines at all—which is shorter still. I think it would be well if Ulysses makes my name to unify my publishers. Mr Mathews and Mr Richards are two bores quite as incompetent as my agent and swindlers into the bargain. Perhaps they could be induced to turn over their rights and remainders of copies to you. The former never paid me any royalty on either edition, from the later I got about £10 in as many years. Mr Huebsch began rather well but has changed his mind whether he sends any royalties to Mr Pinker or not I don't know. Perhaps he does. I daresay my agent will hold them up until I reply to his fourlined note of challenge.

(See LI 168.)8

Throughout his life Joyce usually trusted his own business acumen and rarely had much confidence in his agents' enterprise or skills; and, with hindsight, he was often right. He also had a propensity to negotiate his own deals with publishers, thereby depriving his agents of their commissions outright.9 Once he arrived in Paris in July 1920, Joyce preferred to rely on his friends to act as his agents in the negotiations with the small press publishers on both sides of the Atlantic who sought to issue his "Work in Progress" fragments as deluxe editions. Sylvia Beach dutifully fulfilled this role from 1928 to 1930,10 but Joyce came to depend almost entirely on his friend and advisor Paul Léon to direct all of his legal and financial affairs during the final decade of his life. [End Page 126]

Joyce's relations with his literary agents steadily deteriorated after James B. Pinker died in February 1922—coincidentally, the week after Ulysses was first published in Paris—and the firm passed into the hands of his sons, Eric and J. Ralph Pinker. Joyce rarely valued the younger Pinkers' efforts on his behalf. When he started to seek new publishing arrangements in the 1930s, Joyce began a prolonged struggle to dissociate himself from the agency of James B. Pinker & Sons, and, as usual, he relied on others to initiate the break. From Paris in May 1932, Joyce had Léon write to his solicitors in London, Monro, Saw & Co.: "Mr Joyce wishes me to inform you that he finds his agent rather careless in his handling of his affairs." Léon pointed out that this was made evident by the fact that in "the rather delicate negotiations with Miss Beach" (to convince her to abandon her rights to continue to publish Ulysses, as well as in the negotiations with the various American publishers who were competing to take them up) the burdens were "laid on his and his son's [Giorgio Joyce's] shoulders." Léon continued Joyce's list of complaints against the Pinkers by stating that the negotiations for the book publication of what would become Finnegans Wake with Faber & Faber and the Viking Press were "entirely conducted and successfully achieved by Mr Joyce himself."

Léon then summed up the current state of affairs: While the Pinkers had been Joyce's agents for over fifteen years, they had been "so mostly nominally and in his opinion have done practically nothing for him." Still speaking on Joyce's behalf, Léon concluded that he "does not blame them entirely because of the exceptional nature of his writing and the character of the public they cater for." While Joyce "believes the firm to be quite honest and capable in their dealings with other authors"—and although he has nothing personally against "the present manager of the firm"—J. Ralph Pinker "seems to have come to him in a round about way." Therefore, Joyce decided that "the moment has come for a much more energetic campaign to be undertaken for the publication of his works." Léon concluded the letter by asking Joyce's solicitors: "in case he is forced to change [agents] (something personally he would dislike doing) he would like to know how he stands legally."11 The solicitors promptly replied that the Pinkers would still be entitled to receive their commissions on all of the contracts that they had concluded and managed up to then. With that news, Joyce dropped the matter for the time being, but his interactions with his literary agents remained problematic for the rest of his life.12


It was in this complex and often overlapping environment of interests and responsibilities that the negotiations to publish the penultimate deluxe [End Page 127] "Work in Progress" fragment began. On November 7, 1932, Carolus Verhulst—the founder of the Servire Press in The Hague, Holland, and an ardent admirer of "Work in Progress"13—wrote directly to Joyce in Paris about the possibility of publishing his forthcoming installment in transition 22 as a limited deluxe edition.14 This was the first appearance in print of the so-called "Children's Games" chapter and was Joyce's only new installment of "Work in Progress" in transition since November 1929.15 Verhulst wrote:

We take the liberty to put a proposal before you in regard with this fragment of Work in Progress. We should be proud if you would allow us to make a book of it and to publish it.

We are, however, a young firm, working with a small capital, and it would be impossible for us to let you have a fixed sum in advance. We would be able however to let you have 40% of the gross proceeds, all costs of production and propaganda [that is, advertising] being for our account, and to be covered by the remaining 60%.16

While the proposed royalties are set out quite clearly in this initial letter, a misunderstanding arose about how the publishers calculated the "gross proceeds" when it actually came time to pay them. Nonetheless, Joyce did not even bother to reply to Verhulst's offer. Instead, he directed Eugene Jolas to ask Verhulst to put the matter to Paul Léon (rather than his London agent):

My firm will be very proud to bring out this fragment and I am sure that we can make the publication a success. By means of Transition we reach a public (a reasonably large one) that is particularly interested in Mr. Joyce's work. Further we have capable agents in the USA, England, France and Germany, who can push the book there. It is not my intention to belittle the work of other publishers, but I can say, that we are specially fitted to make a beautiful edition.

Although we cannot offer Mr. Joyce an advance payment to the royalty offered him, I think the royalty offered him is attractive and may prove to bring in a considerable amount of money.17

While Richard Ellmann paid scant attention to the knotted history of this publication in his biography of the writer (JJ 671), it has been the subject of several informative recent studies.18 Although just a minor [End Page 128] thread in the canvas that constitutes Joyce's oeuvre, the story of its publication illuminates the changing professional and interpersonal dynamics that shaped his works in the mid 1930s.

Verhulst's offer arrived as Léon was actively negotiating with the Albatross Press to issue the first new (continental) edition of Ulysses since Sylvia Beach had relinquished all of Shakespeare and Company's rights to the book in 1932.19 Léon was primarily interested in the more lucrative prospects of this substantial new source of royalties for Joyce. In fact, he did not even know the terms of the contracts for the eventual book publication of "Work in Progress" as Finnegans Wake that Joyce had entered into with its publishers in 1931: Faber & Faber in the United Kingdom and the Viking Press in the United States. Therefore, Léon simply forwarded Verhulst's letter to Joyce's agent in London.20 A few days later, J. Ralph Pinker replied that in his

opinion it would not be a good thing to allow the Servire Press at this juncture to publish any further extracts from Work in Progress, not only from the point of view of Fabers, but also from the point of view of the Viking Press. You see, if an edition is printed on the continent the American copyright is lost and the Viking Press as it is are not very happy over the prior publication of Two Tales of Shem and Shaun.21

This prompted Léon to counter that they had yet to establish what Joyce's rights were regarding publication of these fragments under the "Work in Progress" contracts. Nonetheless, on the one hand, he pointed out that Faber & Faber was certainly entitled to publish the fragment either on its own or (as he had previously suggested) "in conjunction with the Servire Press." On the other hand, as far the American copyright in the new fragment was concerned, it was "up to Messrs Huebsch to act."22 As happened so often in the 1930s, Léon was far more active in protecting and asserting Joyce's legal and financial interests than his titular agent.

True to form, Pinker replied ten days later with this further cautionary advice: "In my opinion it is open to question as to whether Mr Joyce is free to bring out fragments of Work in Progress in limited editions by another publisher without permission from the Viking Press."23 At this stage, Léon became more forceful in his response: "I cannot share your point of view about the fragments of Work in Progress." Although he had not seen the contracts that were with Pinker, Léon presumed that Faber's [End Page 129] rights were limited to the United Kingdom and that Viking's were "entirely limited to America." He argued that, if this were the case, Viking "should be at liberty to issue an American edition [of the fragment] thus securing copyright and my personal opinion is that they should do both for Anna Livia Plurabelle and Haveth Childers Everywhere everywhere which Messrs Faber & Faber have already published. I trust you will be able to induce them to do it both to the satisfaction of Mr Joyce and themselves."24

Meanwhile, Pinker was in contact with his brother in New York who reported that the Viking Press would indeed take out an interim copyright on the fragment when it eventually appeared in transition so as to retain their rights to publish in the United States, if and when they decided to do so. Eric Pinker also noted that

Viking are a little disquieted at the prospect of Joyce's putting out these little editions of every piece of the book as he finished it. It hardly seems possible that this may happen but Viking feel that the point ought to be raised tactfully with Joyce as while it may be all right to give the public a few tastes to whet their appetite for Work in Progress we certainly don't want to give them what may amount to a full meal and end by killing the sale of the book when it comes out as a whole. Viking will welcome a reassuring letter about this.25

Joyce's agent merely forwarded his brother's letter to Léon without comment, expecting him to provide the assurances that the American publisher sought. Léon replied that

all the fragments published up to now, i.e., ALP, HCE, the two Tales and the new one will constitute in all not more than a hundred pages and this is about one twentieth of the entire book. In the publishing of these fragments the interests both of the publisher and the author concur as they make, as your brother says, the public acquainted with the language of Mr Joyce and their mouths water.26

While some of the correspondence has not been located, aspects of the negotiations must also have taken place over the phone. Therefore, it is not known who proposed that the Servire Press would use Lucia Joyce's artwork to illustrate the book. But, given his determination throughout the 1930s to encourage his daughter's artistry,27 it was presumably Joyce [End Page 130] who insisted on this arrangement. Nonetheless, it is also likely that Verhulst, who promoted modernist art in all of his publications,28 would have been quite supportive of the plan as well. As Léon was trying to ascertain Joyce's rights to publish the fragment separately at the end of December 1932, Verhulst wrote again directly to Joyce offering him 30 percent royalty and Lucia Joyce 10 percent on the (as it turned out net) sales of the edition.29 At the start of 1933, Léon instructed Pinker to forward the final proofs of transition 22 to Faber & Faber in the expectation that they would publish the text either as a deluxe or trade edition (or both).30 For once, Pinker showed some initiative and approached Faber & Faber, but they demurred, preferring to wait to see whether Viking was willing "to collaborate in such an edition."31 But, by February 7, the Viking Press had "very definitely" decided that they were not going to issue an edition of the new work and were opposed to anyone else doing so as well. According to Eric Pinker,

The market in America for such limited editions at the moment is practically non-existent and in addition to this Huebsch does not agree that the publication of these fragments will whet the appetite of people for the complete book. He thinks on the contrary that the effect will be exactly the opposite and that the bloom will be taken off the complete book. Huebsch believes that Joyce and everyone concerned will do better in the long run by not putting out these little bits of books but holding everything with a view to making a really big explosion with the complete book when it comes out. Huebsch contemplates of course doing a limited edition of the complete book and I am not at all sure that this policy is not a wise one. My brother, I know, agrees with him and promised that he would put the matter before Mr Joyce. Will you think over the matter carefully and put the point of view to Mr Joyce? I cannot help feeling that one is rather apt to "fitter away" the value of the whole thing by issuing the small fragment.32

Léon was preoccupied with attending to Joyce's other business affairs and so was unable to reply to the Pinkers' letters for over a week, but then he did so quite persuasively:

I cannot agree with Huebsch about the possible effect of the publication of the fragments of W.i.P. The point is that this is not an ordinary novel where once the plot is given away the whole book is [End Page 131] known before hand the problem for the publisher is on the contrary to get the public acquainted with the language and the object of the work. This is most certainly achieved with greater facility with fragments which reach a wider public if published in the form Faber & Faber have given it or reach a certain "highbrow" public which though uninteresting in itself forces sometime the reading of a large class of the public.

This exchange demonstrates that by this stage Léon was well acquainted with the form of "Work in Progress" and the audience it might appeal to, something that cannot be said of Joyce's literary agents or American publisher. Léon conceded that Huebsch must know his market best and so was willing to drop the idea of a limited American edition of the fragment, but then he made it clear that this did "not mean however that we must not bring it out in Europe." So he asked Pinker to contact Faber & Faber again to see if they were interested in jointly publishing a limited edition of the new fragment with the Servire Press, either "a British Isles edition for one and free continental market for the other," or else he suggested that a "limited edition could be entrusted to them (say a few hundred copies) and then Messrs Faber & Faber in six months could bring out a cheap edition, as they are wont to do." Léon ended his letter by stating that "Any arrangement which will satisfy Messrs Faber & Faber without prejudicing the Servire Press […] will do."33

In a most unusual turn of events, Pinker wrote Léon a letter he headed "Personal" because, as he states in conclusion, he wished "it to be a private letter from me to you, as I consider it my duty to put before you all the considerations." Accordingly, he wrote:

I appreciate your opinion, but I must say I think there is more force in the Viking Press argument than appears at first sight. In the first place the American reading public is quite different from the English one. The American will be apt to absorb something with avidity if they think it is new, clever and "the thing to do" to read it, but if they have read one or two extracts beforehand they are most likely to say when the complete book comes, "we've read all this before," and the reviewers are apt to say the same thing. With regard to the limited edition we must remember that this market in America is very badly hit—far worse than in England and if we publish limited editions of [End Page 132] small portions of the book they would undoubtedly destroy the value of the complete volume.34

Pinker's final point was to notify Léon that Huebsch had already advanced Joyce £350 in July 1931 on what would become the American edition of Finnegans Wake, but he also wanted to reassure Léon that he did "not for a moment suggest that it is Joyce's fault" that the book is not yet finished. In fact, Pinker is "not pointing all this out for you to pass on to Joyce."35 Léon replied that he had "made it perfectly clear" that whether Viking chose to issue the fragment in America or not, Joyce was free to pursue a British as well as a continental edition of it. Moving the negotiations forward, Léon pointed out that he presumed that an arrangement could easily be reached between the other two publishers in Europe since Faber & Faber was the Servire Press's representative in the United Kingdom.36

Six months after Verhulst had first shown interest in the project, on March 14, 1933, Pinker informed Léon that Faber had also "decided not to issue a limited edition of the latest fragment from Work in Progress."37 On March 16, F. V. Morley, a Director at Faber & Faber, explained the company's position as follows:

We had, by contract, to consult the Viking Press of New York as to whether they would share a limited edition. We did not consider ourselves bound by their decision, but we had to give them the chance. After some delay they wrote that they did not want to share in such a limited edition; indeed they were afraid it would cut in to the American market for the complete work in progress. We do not hold that view here; we are as you know convinced that such a number of fragments pave the way for the complete work. But along with the Viking refusal to share, a canvas of the English bookshops provided a very disappointing result. As we cannot get American support, and as the market is here so flat, we had better leave the limited edition to the Servire Press who raised the question in the first place and who, as far as the Continent is concerned, are better able to market than we are. We should be glad, of course, to give them whatever help we can in England. I told Pinker this and expect that he has got in touch with you and the Servire Press about it.

Morley concluded the letter by stating: "We are anxious that we should be allowed to do a cheap edition, as with anna livia and haveth [End Page 133] childers, the two tales and pomes, in due course. Though there may be less money in these cheap editions, I am convinced of their value. Personally I have no sympathy with collectors, but a desire to encourage readers."38 In various ways throughout his career, Joyce also made it clear that he wanted as many readers and as much in royalties as possible, though not necessarily in equal measure.

At this juncture, even though the issue of preserving the copyright on "Work in Progress" in the United States was still a major obstacle to its publication, Léon instructed Pinker to notify the Servire Press that they could proceed with the publication of their deluxe edition. Just a few days later, Benjamin W. Huebsch, Vice President of Viking Press and an early and committed supporter of Joyce and his works, tried to intervene by pointing out that while "Joyce has the right to publish serially," he should not do so if it "jeopardizes copyright" in the United States or "tends to reduce the value of the property to us." Huebsch insisted that the Viking Press should not be "penalised by the loss of copyright on every fragment that we refuse to publish" and asked

I wonder whether Joyce is cognisant of the fact that whatever Faber & Faber may publish becomes free for all over here. I don't mind so much copies of their edition of the present excerpt will be sold over here, but I do mind that future anthologists will always be able to pick at will from among uncopyrighted portions, whereas, if the book were withheld until completion, we would be able to control the use of material, except for the two little books that were printed before our contract was made.

[…] I hope that Joyce will agree, in our common interest, to withhold the material of the book until it is ready for publication in its entirety. If he should so agree, we will consent to the present publication and not press our rights. By the way, when will the book be finished?39

In spite of their career-long association, Joyce (via Léon) did not agree with Huebsch's very practical concerns about the negative impact that the publication of these fragments might have on their copyright in America. Furthermore, as it turned out, Léon rather than Huebsch was correct: The deluxe and the ordinary press editions of "Work in Progress" fragments were indeed effective marketing tools. They introduced Joyce's work to new readers and, though the critical reception was more often [End Page 134] than not negative or merely puzzled, these publications also served to sustain international interest during the long gestation of Finnegans Wake.40

Huebsch's principal argument was that any of Joyce's works that were not also published in the United States were not copyrightable there and were therefore subject to piracy. Joyce was already well acquainted with the effects of the problematic copyright situation in America through Samuel Roth's underhanded publications of earlier "Work in Progress" fragments in his magazine the Two Worlds Monthly.41 The joint nature of the international publishing agreement for Joyce's book was equally problematic. The Viking Press could not expect Léon to refuse Faber & Faber if they went ahead and published an edition of the fragment. Therefore, Léon maintained that Viking should take up these issues with their co-publisher, not with the author or his agents.

Another obstacle—one that was even more difficult to overcome—was the fact that, because of the Joyce family's domestic issues,42 Léon informed Pinker that he "cannot even mention the subject to Mr Joyce and cannot mention any date for completion of the work." Finally, Léon pointed out that the Viking Press (as they well knew) could secure copyright in the United States by printing a certain number of copies of the fragment and lodging them with the Library of Congress.43 Regardless, other practical matters were uppermost for Joyce as far as this publication was concerned: He wanted to promote his daughter's artwork and secure further, immediate royalties on his latest work. As for Huebsch's last question, Finnegans Wake would only be "finished" about six years later in May 1939, and its publication would generate a variety of other problems for its publishers in New York and London.44

Two weeks later, Huebsch responded to Léon's letter, but again he did so only to Pinker. He complained that it "states little that is to the point except that he cannot mention the subject to Mr Joyce" and that, as "James Joyce's lawyer," he seems "unaware of his client's responsibilities as the seller."45 Léon was preoccupied with dealing with other Joyce matters and so a month elapsed before he turned his attention back to these copyright issues. James Joyce was in Paris from October 19, 1932 to May 22, 1933, but there is not a single extant letter from him to either Pinker or Huebsch during this fraught period of negotiations, and Joyce makes no mention of what would be published as The Mime of Mick, Nick and the Maggies in any of his correspondence with Faber & Faber. By this [End Page 135] stage, he had come to rely almost entirely on Léon to personally manage his financial and legal dealings.

When he did reply to Pinker, Léon noted that he still had not seen the contracts for "Work in Progress" and so his advice was based "on what I make the contract to be judging the attitude of both these firms." He presumed that there was "no clause preventing Mr J. from a publication in a periodical or even in a volume form of parts," and also that the author must have only assigned the Viking Press the rights for publications in the United States. If this were in fact the case, then Joyce was obviously at liberty to have his work published outside the United States either serially or in book form as long as these publications merely constituted fragments of the entire work. Léon also pointed out that Joyce had already been serializing "Work in Progress" in little magazines and publishing deluxe editions with small presses in Paris and London, as well as in New York, when the Viking Press signed their contract for what would become Finnegans Wake. Nonetheless, Léon tried to reassure Huebsch by claiming that the question was "merely academic" since he did not foresee any further publication of fragments.46 It was Léon, Joyce's friend and unpaid advisor—rather than his literary agents or actual solicitors—who provided this sound legal and commercial analysis. At this point, the Viking Press had no alternative but to drop the matter.47

Léon did not wait for the contractual issues with Huebsch to be resolved before he instructed Pinker to accept Verhulst's offer and also to inform him that "Miss Joyce is going to do the capitals in the next few days." But several practical questions still remained. Léon wanted to know when the printers would need the "illuminations" and, more importantly, asked when the book would be published. Furthermore, Léon, who must have been following Joyce's specific instructions, informed Pinker that "it is not necessary to have the contract signed by Miss Joyce" because Joyce's signature would be "sufficient." Nonetheless, he also stressed that it was essential that the contract stipulate that her royalties were to be paid separately from those for her father. Léon concluded by pointing out that "You thus will be entitled to collect the entire sum of royalties as usual."48

Just a week later, on April 3, 1933, Léon sent Pinker four of Lucia's designs: "two capitals and two tail decorations." He marked "the two which Mr Joyce prefers and would like to be chosen," and asked Pinker to forward them from London to Holland because he was "afraid that with the present developments in Germany there might be some difficulties in the post" from Paris. Léon then raised some technical questions [End Page 136] about their reproduction: Could they be made in more than three colors and could all the work be done in Holland?49 More surprisingly, he also intervened on Joyce's behalf in the matter of how the text should be printed. Much has been made of the fact that the Servire Press reverted to a more traditional font for the text of The Mime of Mick, Nick and the Maggies. According to Van Hulle, "it is remarkable that Verhulst did not choose his favourite sans serif Neuzeit Grotesk typeface—the archetype of a modernist font—to print this text by his favourite modernist author, as he did for the version in transition 22. Instead, he chose a serif Grotius typeface, which can hardly be called modernist" (Van Hulle 191), and De Voogd has suggested that "Verhulst thought it fitted Lucia's decorative lettrines better" (De Voogd 244). Actually, it was Joyce (as usual via Léon) who insisted that the publisher use a different font—and he did so for reasons that had nothing to do with Lucia's artwork. Léon told Pinker "that the type that they have chosen for the Transition fragment as published is entirely different from the one in the first proofs (a copy of which I sent to you or to Mr Morley) and has met with a chorus of universal disapproval as being too thick blurred and difficult to decipher."50 None of the transition 22 proofs survive, so it is impossible to know what font was used on its first one, but it was probably the same, more traditional Grotius font as designed by S. H. de Roos that they had used for the other pieces in the issue. At a later stage in the proof process for transition, Verhulst decided to compliment the innovative nature of Joyce's fragment with a more modernist font. Whatever his own preferences might have been, Verhulst was evidently unwilling to challenge Joyce's wishes as relayed by Léon.

Toward the end of April, Pinker informed Léon that, although the Servire Press could reproduce Lucia's illustrations in three or more colors, it would be too expensive. Therefore, they wanted to either reproduce them "only in black or two colours at most." But then, hoping to placate Joyce, they claimed that they would be able to issue the book by the end of 1933. More importantly, it was only at this stage that they proposed for the first time that Lucia should also make a design for the cover.51 Verhulst then asked whether Joyce planned to revise the text for the new publication (as he most likely had done for its appearance in transition). Verhulst also asked what title Joyce would like to give the new book.52

At the start of May, several of these questions came to a head when Léon wrote to Pinker that Joyce approved the new font as long as "it will tally with the illumination of the letters which he would like reproduced [End Page 137] one and a half times larger than those which are on the page," but he would not approve their being reproduced in black and white because they "would hardly do justice to the illuminations as they have been executed now." Léon concluded that

Mr Joyce would like them to be reproduced in as many colours as will be necessary. If this reproduction as is likely and as they allege will cost them a lot, Mr Joyce is even prepared to forego a certain percentage of his and his daughter's royalties in order to enable them to do it as it should be done. Will you please take up the matter with them and inform me how much less the respective royalties will have to be.

As far as the cover is concerned I think there will be no difficulty in asking Miss Joyce to do it but please elicit first what they want for it: colour or black and white. On the other hand the cover design will depend on what Mr Joyce chooses for the title and this has not been done yet.53

Pinker's letter to Verhulst is not known to survive. Therefore, we can only speculate if he raised the question of reduced royalties with the publisher. In reply, Verhulst reported to Pinker that he

had a thorough examination with the printers (the best of the Continent) but a number of colours more than three is impossible. With more colours we have no guarantee, that a perfect piece of work will be turned out. Mr. Joyce has to take into account that the book and the illuminations are made by book-printing, it is not art-printing with specially made plates on special paper. According to this last method we can use as many colours as possible, but it would alter the character of the book entirely, and we could not sell it as an edition-de-luxe.

We hope Miss Joyce will be able to limit the number of colours to three.54

Pinker passed on this information almost verbatim to Léon, who replied, "I see there is nothing to be done and as expected the real art-printing can be done only in Paris," and then instructed the Servire Press to work with the two letters Joyce had chosen and "proceed by way of elimination first of shades then of colours until they obtain a three-colour [End Page 138] reproduction. Could you ask them to send the listing of colours existing in the original letter [sic] and point out the colours proposed for elimination."55

A month later Léon indicated which illustrations should be used as the initial letter and tailpiece and which design should be used for the cover. He also noted that "I do not think it is possible to make any changes in the letters as far as the colours as Miss Joyce is not au courant for the process necessitated for the printing in three colours. I therefore revert to my original proposal i.e. to let the printers eliminate the colours unprintable so as to keep finally only three. By way of indication we could say that they finally keep two predominant and one complementary colours."56 It was only at this stage that Léon finally revealed the book's title. He wrote: "since all the fragments have really no titles but merely quotations of several words I think Mr. Joyce has made up his mind to choose a quotation for this one too" and had settled on "the mime of mick, nick and the maggies."57

There had been no news from Verhulst by the time Joyce returned to Paris at the end of August 1933, so in September, Léon asked the publisher what progress had been made so far. Verhulst replied that they had written directly to Lucia Joyce to ask her to make new designs with fewer colors, and they had also sent Joyce a request for more material to increase the size of the volume.58 Unsurprisingly, it appears that neither of the Joyces replied. Therefore, Léon took charge of the matter and informed Verhulst that he had "communicated the substance of your letter to Mr Joyce" and that there had "never been any question of adding any more material to the publication you have asked Mr Joyce to do and this has never been planned nor could it be achieved without changing altogether the idea of the book."59 As for the reproduction of the designs, he had already told them through Pinker that they "were at liberty to reproduce these by transferring them onto another paper and using the three or four most suitable colours at the choice of your artist." Léon ended the letter by informing Verhulst that "time is pressing" and that he expected to be notified by return mail if and when they planned to bring out the edition—"otherwise I must make use of another offer I have pending. In the latter case will you please return the lettrines."60 Somewhat taken aback, Verhulst replied immediately to confirm all of Léon's instructions, but he also pointed out that they had not yet received a copy of the signed agreement that Pinker should have sent them more than six months before. Finally, Verhulst reassured Léon that they would bring [End Page 139] out the book by the end of May 1934.61 Léon then instructed Pinker to finally send the contract and insisted that the Servire Press must be made to adhere to the agreed-to publication date. He also added one final proviso, that the edition must include the subtitle "(Fragment from Work in Progress)."62


As it turned out, the publication of The Mime of Mick, Nick and the Maggies was further delayed and the book only appeared in June 1934.63 It was a beautifully designed and printed work of great craftsmanship,64 and prominently announced at the front and back of the volume that "The initial letter, the tailpiece and the cover were specially designed for these editions by Miss Lucia Joyce." It was issued in 1,000 ordinary and 29 deluxe copies (numbered I–XXIX); the latter were signed by both James and Lucia Joyce, of which the first four copies were not for sale. Joyce chose the seemingly unusual, odd-numbered limitation in homage to Issy and her retinue of 28 rainbow girls: "the Maggies." He also took an avid interest in the book's reception and was especially interested to hear about any mention of Lucia's artwork, telling Giorgio and Helen Joyce: "I hope the book cheers her up. It is very well done" (LIII 306).65 He also had the publisher send copies to C. P. Curran and Thomas Pugh in Dublin,66 as well as to George Goyert and Frank Budgen.67 The unique colophon of number I reads:

This copy is number

(and belongs to Mr. James Joyce)

The copy number was written in black ink (by the printer or publisher) and was double signed by James and Lucia Joyce. It is now part of the Sylvia Beach / Shakespeare and Company collection in the Poetry Collection of the University Libraries, University at Buffalo, The State University of New York.68

In a blurb that reflects Eugene Jolas's conception of this book (and of "Work in Progress" more generally), the publisher's advertisement describes the book as follows:

In this cosmological fairytale of Dublin, the poet presents in nuce his vision of the childhood of mankind, lifting the local elements into universal relationships of Swiftian humour and magic symbolism. [End Page 140]

The revolutionary vocabulary which the poet has created in the present fragment [sic] new heights of invention through his word synthesis of prehistoric, historic and contemporary mythology.69

The Liverpool Post enthusiastically reported that another fragment of Joyce's "Work in Progress" was forthcoming "under the characteristically queer title" of The Mime of Mick, Nick and the Maggies, specifically mentioning that the book was "illuminated by Miss Lucia Joyce, the author's daughter."70 While most reviewers openly admitted that they did not know what to make of Joyce's new work, there is a nuanced and appreciative review in The Scotsman:

The Mime brings the myth of Dublin, the cosmos and mankind a stage farther, though we are hardly any the wiser as to what it is all about. Technically, so far as may be judged of a style and vocabulary which are entirely revolutionary, this is superior to the earlier fragments, and it remains purely Joyceian and quite inimitable. […] Sound suggestion is Mr. Joyce's forte nowadays, owing, it has been hinted to his weakening eye sight, but there are still elements of appeal to the other senses […]. But the main features are the play upon words, the topsy-turvy treatment of elements, genders, numbers, moods, and tenses, and the rhythm which gives a unity to what would otherwise be complete nonsense. It is because it is nonsense intellectualised that the reader is carried on from page to page, and has difficulty in leaving off.71

Writing in The New Statesman, even such patient and well-informed readers like G. W. Stonier were equally awed and intimidated:

Reading the fifty pages of this new "fragment"—so carefully written and written over—we are reminded, with awe and almost with horror, of the parent work, that vast snowball trundling down some hidden slope, of which this is merely a chip thrown into the sky. How many thousand Micks and Anna Livias has it gathered up in its course? And when will it reach the bottom? The reviewer foresees a day when he, too, will be expected to go out with a search party, ice-axe and Vico in hand, to examine the new landmark and scratch his initials in the ice. Meanwhile, he is content with a crystal or two.72 [End Page 141]

Other reviewers were less favorable. According to the conservative Morning Post,

Presumably Mr. Joyce means something, but there is no evidence that the something is a sufficient reward for the excessive toil of acquiring his "revolutionary vocabulary." It is impossible to believe that what Mr Joyce has to say is not to be expressed in the language that sufficed for Shakespeare and Milton. This painfully elaborated jargon is not only an affectation on the part of the author; it is an affront to the reader.73

Meanwhile, the view of the book from the other side of the Atlantic was that it "does not appear to have set the local Thames on fire, to judge by the virtual absence of comment or even interest."74 Quite the contrary, echoing decades of Finnegans Wake criticism to follow, the Irish Times claimed that

It is very easy to make fun of Mr. Joyce; almost too easy, in fact. The intellectual world is fairly sharply divided into those who laugh at his latest style and those who look on these amazing experiments in language with profound reverence. The latter position is more difficult to hold; for "Work in Progress" is as nearly incomprehensible as anything in print can be. Consequently, it has few friends outside that devoted group which will admire anything so long as it is new and strange. […]

We cannot judge it by the usual standards; but we can, if we wish, attack it on one ground. The first duty of an artist is to create; but second is to communicate. If he cannot make others understand what he means, his work might as well remain unwritten. The argument can be (and very often is) carried far. The artist has the right to limit his message to the few who can understand it; in fact, if he wants to communicate a subtle idea he is forced to do this. Shakespeare must not be asked to tell the groundlings "what he means."

Perhaps, Joyce can claim this privilege; but from what one can gather from "Work in Progress" it is doubtful if he can. Special and fortuitous knowledge always has been needed to appreciate the full drift of his meaning and even "Ulysses" is hard to follow if one does not happen to know Dublin life well, and what it was like in 1904. Many of the allusions in "Work in Progress" depend purely on local knowledge ("hercourt street reelway" is an example chosen at random [End Page 142] from the present volume) and one suspects that these form only one symptom of the author's general attitude. Parts of his work never can be understood by those who are not Dubliners, and this would incline one to guess that parts never can be understood by anyone—they depend perhaps on the private knowledge of Joyce himself.75

According to several press reports, Faber & Faber still expected to issue an ordinary press edition of The Mime as late as January 6, 1934, but in fact they never published any other "Work in Progress" fragments. Instead, they acted as the Servire Press's London agents and reported to Slocum and Cahoon in 1948 that they had sold 300 copies of their issue of the ordinary edition in the United Kingdom at 12 shillings 6 pence (SC A43). The Servire Press made a similar arrangement with the Gotham Book Mart in New York to act as their agents in the United States. Their advertisement in transition 26 lists the price of the ordinary editions as $3.50, and $15.00 for the deluxe, signed copies.76

Verhulst also tried to arrange with Sylvia Beach that Shakespeare and Company would act as their agents in Paris, but this plan never materialized. He contacted her on February 1, 1932 to ask if she would act as their Paris agent for transition,77 to which she replied that she would not be able to "guaranty [sic] to dispose of three hundred copies of each issue" because of "the present state of business and the decreasing number of Americans here." She also confessed that her "health has suffered very much from overwork and I do not think it would permit me to undertake the business involved in the distribution of a review."78 In reply, Verhulst expressed his regret that she could not accept his proposal and noted that his "English and American agents guarantee a greater quantity each than I proposed to you. But I am sure you will know your own business best, so I can not press you in this respect." He then offered her a 33 percent bookseller's discount if she would take six copies, and a 45 percent discount if she took 48, noting that "This number [transition 21], partly dedicated to James Joyce's Jubilee, will certainly interest your clients."79 She nonetheless declined to act as their Paris agent for transition.

Then, on November 30, 1933, Verhulst wrote again to ask if Beach would like to act as the Paris agent for their upcoming publication of The Mime, telling her that the ordinary copies would retail at 50 French francs,80 while the 25 deluxe copies would be available at 200 francs. He offered her "a very special price" of 23.50 francs for the ordinary copies (a 47 percent discount) and 100 francs for the deluxe ones (a 50 percent [End Page 143] discount) but specified that they were only able to consign at most 200 of the former and five of the latter. To entice her, Verhulst even sent Beach a proof of the book's opening pages, though without the initial capital.81 She promptly returned the sample, writing that "The printing is very handsome and it promises to be a lovely edition," but she was "sorry that it is quite impossible for me, in my present circumstances, to buy any copies outright. A certain number of them, say one hundred, might be sent to me on consignment."82 He then offered Shakespeare and Company copies 101 to 200 of the ordinary edition at the same price, but allowed for the amount due to be paid six months after receipt. Verhulst concluded by claiming that "We think this is a sporting offer, and we are quite sure you will be able to sell all of them. We are sure, [sic] that we shall not be able to supply you with any more copies because it is as good as a certainty that the whole edition will be sold before the book is out."83 In her final letter to Verhulst, Beach wrote:

I would be very glad to accept your interesting offer if things were different here. But all my English and American customers who buy Joyce have gone home, and of course, the French are out of the question. There seems to be absolutely no prospect of getting rid of a hundred copies at fifty francs in the next six months. You have no idea of what the situation is here in Paris. On the other hand, you will have no trouble disposing of your edition in America. The recent event of the lifting of the ban on "Ulysses" has added to the interest in Joyce's work over there, and there will be great demand for this new fragment of his "Work in Progress," in such a fine edition, and comparatively cheap.84

Ultimately, Messageries Dawson, with premises at 13 rue Albouy in the 10th arrondissement, were the French agents for The Mime of Mick, Nick and the Maggies.

The full retail price of the deluxe copies was 20 Dutch guilders (ƒ) and ƒ4.90 for the ordinary ones (the equivalent of 200 and 50 francs or $15.00 and $3.50, respectively). This means that the maximum gross revenue that the entire edition could have earned was ƒ5,400 (or 55,000 francs or $3,725), but—and this was the most important factor for the Joyces—royalties for the writer and the artist were ultimately based on the publisher's actual receipts, which was the retail price minus the variable discount they provided to distributors and booksellers. The publisher's first [End Page 144] accounting of sales at the end of June 1934 showed that Verhulst's optimism concerning the book's sales was well founded. By the time it was published, the Servire Press had already sold 714 copies of the 1,000 ordinary copies as well as 18 of the 25 deluxe copes, with a total receipt of ƒ1918.05, though nothing was due to either of the Joyces then because the publisher was only required to settle their accounts in March 1935.85

On May 1, 1935, Joyce wrote to Weaver: "Minor Matters first. I cannot or rather Léon [cannot] collect a penny from the Dutch publisher who owes Lucia and myself 40,000 francs" (SL 374). Joyce's version of the financial situation here is characteristically unreliable. Although he may not have been aware of the precise arrangements he had agreed to (via Léon) with Verhulst, Joyce would have known the edition's price and limitation, so a simple calculation would have made it clear that his claim to Weaver amounted to over 70 percent of the maximum revenue for the entire edition; an impossible figure for royalties for the author and artist. Therefore, it seems that Joyce was grossly exaggerating to Weaver what the publisher actually owed him and his daughter simply for effect; such are some of the pitfalls of relying solely on Joyce's financial accounting in his correspondence.

Joyce's most notable other exaggerated claim about the royalties he would earn is in his April 10, 1921 letter also to Weaver in which he claimed that Shakespeare and Company had offered him "66% of the net profit" on the first edition of Ulysses (LI 162 and JJ 504).86 Archival material that I uncovered in the Sylvia Beach/Shakespeare and Co. collection in Buffalo almost twenty years ago confirms that Joyce actually earned about 40 percent of the net receipts on the edition.87 While obviously still a large sum—in fact, more than double the minimum percentage he would earn in royalties from future publishers for Ulysses—it is nonetheless a typically hyperbolic claim that cannot be used as the foundation of an accurate appraisal of Joyce's status as a writer in the modernist marketplace.

On July 27, 1922, almost six months after the first copies of Ulysses were delivered to Shakespeare and Company, Sylvia Beach prepared the most definitive statement available of the costs and revenue for the edition. Headed "Ulysses Accounts Rendered," it sets out the expenses Sylvia Beach incurred producing and shipping the book, as well as the total royalty paid to Joyce and herself by that date (along with various sundry expenses as well as bills Joyce had charged to her account).88 The most basic accounting of the edition must begin with the total gross revenue it could have earned: 185,000 francs for the three limitations. Based on this [End Page 145] figure, Beach recorded on the second page of her accounting that the net receipts Shakespeare and Company had received so far was 142,000 francs (so 76 percent of the total gross receipts possible), and, more important, that "Publishing expenses & payments to Mr James Joyce and S. Beach" were 109,700 francs (therefore almost 60 percent of the total gross receipts possible or 76 percent of the net receipts to date).

The first page of the accounting provides more specific details about these payments. By far the largest expense was the actual printing of Ulysses: 42,492 francs (or almost 23 percent of the total gross receipts possible, and twice as much as had been originally estimated), and Joyce received a hefty royalty of 39,505 francs (or 27.8 percent of the net receipts), while Beach only paid herself 13,978.80 francs (or less than 10 percent of the net receipts). By August 12, 1922, Beach had paid Joyce a further 20,000 francs (or another 14 percent of the net receipts, which was also 61 percent of the credit she had left on hand on July 27).89 This brought Joyce's total royalty to about 60,000 francs (or the equivalent of 41 percent of the net receipts).90 While still an inordinate royalty rate, it was far short of the 66 percent Joyce claimed in his early letter to Weaver. On July 28, 1921, the exchange rate quoted in Le Figaro was 46.25 francs to £1; therefore, Joyce earned about £1,300, which had the real wealth value in 2018 of £56,650.91 This was an enormous sum, especially in comparison to what Joyce had earned in royalties so far and more than what Beach paid herself as publisher of the edition, but (as I discuss more fully in the material that follows) this amount was only 20 percent of what he earned from the American edition of Ulysses when it was first published in 1934.

Returning to the publication history of The Mime of Mick, Nick and the Maggies, Joyce was right to claim at the start of July 1935 that the Dutch publisher's royalty payment was delinquent. Therefore, it fell to Léon once again to try to spur Joyce's agent into action. So, he wrote to Pinker:

A year has now elapsed since the publication of the last fragment of Work in Progress by Verhulst in the Hague and we have not had no [sic] reply to the numerous inquiries concerning its sale. I think that we [have] shown sufficient patience and that it is time to claim whatever is due with all necessary energy.

Will you therefore please write again claiming an account up to date i.e. for the 1st of June and at the same time remittance of the sum due. As far as I know Messrs Faber bought some 700 copies so [End Page 146] that even should the American market have proved bad there is a considerable amount due to Mr Joyce. Please ask for a definite reply by return post. Failing this will you please send me the contract and I will proceed against them in the Hague through a lawyer friend of mine.92

By the end of the month, Pinker informed Léon that Verhulst had finally sent a current accounting, though, unfortunately, no royalties.93 The Servire Press reported that by the end of December 1934 they had sold a further twenty-seven ordinary and four more deluxe copies of The Mime with a net receipt of ƒ1,934.31 (19,807.33 francs), of which they had received payments of ƒ863.70 (8,844.28 francs).94 At a 30 percent royalty, this meant that they owed Joyce ƒ259.11 (a mere 2,663.65 francs), of which they had already charged him ƒ69.80 (714.75 francs) for the presentation copies of the deluxe edition that he had ordered, leaving a deficit owed to Joyce of just ƒ189.31 (1,938.53 francs). Furthermore, Lucia Joyce's 10 percent royalty meant that she was still owed ƒ86.34 (884.12 francs).95 Based on total possible net receipts, the entire edition would have earned ƒ2,554.60, and so Joyce's royalty could have been ƒ766.38 (7,847.46 francs) and Lucia's ƒ255.46 (2,623.57 francs),96 all of which adds up to just a quarter of the 40,000 francs that Joyce had claimed to Weaver that the publisher owed them.

Six months after the royalty payment was due, Pinker reported to Léon that he had contacted Verhulst and warned him "that unless we receive the amount due to Mr. Joyce within seven days you [Léon] would be reluctantly compelled to place the matter in the hands of your lawyer." He also noted that the royalties were "reckoned on the gross proceeds, that is on the amount they received from the booksellers," that "40% is not an unusual discount to allow booksellers on such works," and that he would ask Verhulst "what price he charges Mr. Joyce for the copies supplied to him."97 Two weeks later, Pinker notified Léon that he had received a check from Verhulst for ƒ275.60 (or 2,822.14 francs),98 which was little more than the total royalty owed just to Lucia.99 Adding insult to injury, it was post-dated to October 15, so they would have to wait to cash it. On October 24, Pinker forwarded almost £35 to Joyce, which included the agent's usual deduction of his 10 percent commission.100 It is not known if the Servire Press ever paid Joyce's royalties in full for this edition, or if they ever paid any royalties at all to Lucia Joyce for her work, but it seems unlikely. [End Page 147]

Measuring comparative worth in different countries across decades is a notoriously difficult endeavor, but here are some proportional comparisons. According to, the £35 Joyce received in royalties for the publication of The Mime would have been worth about £2,300 in 2018.101 Even if Joyce were to have received his maximum royalties on the edition it would have amounted to just about £105, which would only have had a real wealth value of about £7,300 in 2018; while Lucia's total royalty would have been worth just under £2,500 that year. These are certainly not excessive sums; nonetheless, they were a further income from royalties for Joyce as well as financial recognition of Lucia's artwork.

From 1934 to 1939, there is virtually no documentation in the surviving correspondence to indicate that Joyce took any direct role in negotiating his contracts with his publishers or pursuing what was owed to him. Unable to rely on his literary agent in London, he delegated the responsibility to manage and mediate all of his legal and financial affairs to his most trusted friend and advisor, Paul Léon. What did matter to Joyce was the income from his royalties, and these finally started to pour in from the Random House edition of Ulysses in 1934. To put Joyce's meager royalties from The Mime in perspective, in 1934 Joyce also earned £50 in advance on the Bodley Head edition of Ulysses,102 which left him with about £33, once the more than 20 percent in British taxes and Pinker's 10 percent commission were deducted. Over the next few years Joyce increasingly came to resent paying his inactive agent his commission for royalties that Léon was actually negotiating for him.

More important, Random House sold 36,366 copies of its edition of Ulysses in the first year it appeared.103 According to Pinker's statements, this means that Joyce earned over £3,100 in royalties just from this book in that year (including Pinker's 10 percent commission, the most he ever earned on Joyce's works, as well as the sporadic payment of American income tax).104 This was a tremendous success for the book and was the largest royalty the writer ever earned for any of his works in his entire career; just as decisively, it came at a crucial juncture. Joyce's royalty from this book alone would have been worth just over £230,000 in 2018. This is a significant income from royalties by most writers' standards, especially for a book that had been almost continuously in print for twelve years, but it was not enough for Joyce to meet his ever-mounting expenditures, which included Lucia's increasing medical expenses in those difficult years.

Joyce also earned about £125 in royalties on the Odyssey Press continental edition of Ulysses in 1934, which would have been worth just over [End Page 148] £8,000 in 2018. Meanwhile, he also earned $122.26 in royalties from the Viking Press in America,105 which would have been worth just over £1,000 in 2018. Finally, Joyce's £5 half-yearly royalties on the four trade edition titles published by Faber & Faber in 1934 provides further perspective; this would have been worth about £350 in 2018. But his royalties are just one-half of the story of his income. At the same time, Joyce earned £600 in annuity on his stocks in 1934, which would have had a real wealth value of almost £42,000 in 2018, and he further divested himself of almost £900 of stocks that year, which would have been worth over £62,000 in 2018.106 In all, his revenue from his annuities was 30 percent of his annual income.

The following chart sets out Joyce's income that year in greater detail. By most measures, Joyce's combined income was quite a considerable amount of money, but—unsurprisingly—it was not enough for the Joyces. According to Léon's accounting to Weaver on March 11, 1934, they were spending about 7,000 francs a month taking care of Lucia in her Swiss sanatorium.107 This was about £100 a month, or twice the total amount of his monthly return on the dividends from his stocks. 1934 was a particularly lucrative year for Joyce, and so that year Lucia's medical bills amounted to just 20 percent of his principal income. But taken year on year, as the royalties from the American edition of Ulysses diminished, Joyce's financial situation became more desperate.

In 1935, Joyce earned only $2,666 in royalties from Random House, which was £545 or 41,500 francs,108 or just 15 percent of what he had earned the year before, which was about half of what was required to pay [End Page 149] for Lucia's expenses, if they had remained the same, but they actually increased that year. In 1937, the next year for which we have a full accounting of the Random House royalties, Joyce earned only £375 or 28,500 francs.109 That was just 10 percent of what he had earned from his American royalties in 1934, and only 33 percent of what was most likely required to pay for Lucia's expenses. With his ever-decreasing royalties and ever-increasing expenses, clearly Joyce could not maintain his family on his current income, either from his royalties, the dividends from his stocks, or both combined, so he continued to divest himself of his stocks outright at an alarmingly increasing pace, which, of course, diminished his future dividends proportionately.

Royalty Sources Value in 1934 Real Wealth Value in 2018
Random House £3,100 £216,200
Odyssey Press £125 £8,717
Servire Press £35 £2,441
Bodley Head (advance) £33 £2,301
Viking Press £25 £1,046
Faber & Faber (half yearly) £5 £349
Total: £3,573 £230,854
Stocks and Bonds Value in 1934 Real Wealth Value in 2018
Annuity £600 £41,840
Sale of Stock £900 £62,760
Total: £1,500 £104,600
Grand Total: £5,073 £335,454

In mid-July 1934, the Joyces had given up their apartment and left Paris for an extended tour of Belgium and Luxemburg, finally settling into the Carlton Elite Hotel in Zurich, Switzerland in late September, where he and Nora remained until the start of February 1935. A bill from the Carlton Elite from this period happens to have survived in the NLI Joyce/Léon collection. For just one week at the hotel, from January 8 to 14, 1935, James and Nora Joyce spent about 127 Swiss francs, which was worth more than 600 francs at the time.110 Therefore, one week's stay in the Carlton Elite cost about half a month's rent on what would become their new Paris apartment. Nonetheless, the Joyces stayed in this luxury Zurich hotel from late September 1934 to the end of January 1935 (19 weeks), and, based on a rough calculation, it appears that it was at a total expense of almost 12,000 francs, which was about a year's rent on their currently unoccupied Paris apartment. Looked at from another angle, just four months of the year in that hotel cost almost £160 (that is, more than a quarter of his annual income from his dividends from stocks that year or £10,910 in real wealth value in 2018), and this figure does not include any of their other expenses, including the extraordinary costs they were also incurring for Lucia's treatments and care at this time, or the generous tips and extravagances Joyce was famous for. This was clearly a desperate financial crisis, and it was happening in one of Joyce's most financially successful years, just as his largest ever royalty payments were finally coming in. By August 1935, Joyce and Nora had decided to return to Paris and moved into their new apartment at 7 rue Edmund Valentin, which they had completely renovated while they were in Zurich; yet another major expense. They lived in this apartment from February 1935 to April 1939, and so it was their last settled home in Paris. As it turned out, Léon also administered the task of managing their rent during those years, so [End Page 150] we know that it cost 14,250 francs per year (or about £190, which was about £13,000 in real wealth value in 2018).111 This was equivalent to four months of his dividends on his stock, or about 35 percent of his royalties on the Random House edition in 1935. This would have been a reasonable expenditure if Joyce did not have so many other expenses as well.

The image of James Joyce as the "millionaire" writer in the 1930s, eating in the best restaurants, staying in the finest hotels, tipping lavishly, and sparing no expense to take care of his daughter, is merely a muchmythologized generalization. But now, with the abundance of archival material that is available to us, we can begin to fill in a more accurate picture of Joyce's financial position as a modernist writer who struggled to live on his royalties (as well as on the investments Harriet Shaw Weaver bequeathed to him and his family). This microhistory is a step toward that goal. [End Page 151]

Luca Crispi

Luca Crispi is a lecturer in James Joyce studies and modernism in the School of English, Drama and Film at University College Dublin and cofounder (with Ann Fogarty) of the Dublin James Joyce Journal. He is currently working on a monograph entitled "The Genesis of 'Ulysses,'" and is editing, with Alexis and Maria Anna Léon, a forthcoming collection of archival material: James Joyce and Paul L. Léon: The Story of a Friendship Revisited (Bloomsbury, June 2020).

Appendix. A Current Census of Deluxe Edition Copies of the Mime of Mick, Nick and the Maggies

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1. Publishing Joyce's books has not become any less complicated since the writer's death in 1941, or since the Estate's copyright on some of Joyce's works lapsed in 2012, but those are other stories altogether.

2. Joyce was a particularly ardent proponent of his work in his letters to Grant Richards about Dubliners; see their correspondence in LII and in Robert Scholes's "Grant Richards to James Joyce," Studies in Bibliography 16 (1963): 139–60; see also the various accounts of the ordeals surrounding the publication history of Dubliners; for example, Clare Hutton, "Chapters of Moral History: Failing to Publish Dubliners," Papers of the Bibliographical Society of America 97, no. 4 (December 2003): 495–519.

3. See Joyce to Harriet Shaw Weaver, April 30, 1915, LI 80. The most insightful study of the evolving role of the literary agent in English letters in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries is Mary Ann Gillies, The Professional Literary Agent in Britain, 1880–1920 (Toronto: University of Toronto, 2007).

4. Joyce to Weaver; September 16, 1916.

5. Pinker deducted his standard 10 percent commission on Joyce's royalty income on Egoist publications; see Pinker to Joyce, February 27 and October 10, 1917, in John Firth, "James Pinker to James Joyce, 1915–1920," Studies in Bibliography 21 (1968): 219 and 222; royalty statements dated December 18, 1918 and December 18, 1919; Pinker to Joyce in the Harriet Shaw Weaver Papers, British Library ADD MS 57360, ff. 16 and 20, unpublished.

6. Joyce to Weaver, April 17, 1921, unpublished extract; see LI 162 for the rest of the letter. B. W. Huebsch was the only publisher of Joyce's works in America from 1916 until Random House issued Ulysses in 1934.

7. Sixty-six years after it was first published, John J. Slocum and Herbert Cahoon, A Bibliography of James Joyce: 1882–1941 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1953) remains the only standard source of information on the publication of Joyce's works. Although not as precise as one would wish, I have cited their bibliographic references parenthetically as SC, with publication number, throughout this essay.

8. Joyce to Weaver, August 7, 1921; only the first two sentences of this paragraph are published.

9. The firm of James B. Pinker & Sons did not earn a commission on any of the Shakespeare and Company or the Odyssey Press editions and printings of Ulysses. They did earn their standard 10 percent fee on the Random House Ulysses that was published in New York in 1934.

10. Virtually all of the relevant correspondence between Sylvia Beach, James R. Wells, and Crosby Gaige for the publication of Anna Livia Plurabelle (Crosby Gaige: New York, 1928; SC A32), between Beach, Harry, and Caresse Crosby for the publication of Tales Told of Shem and Shaun (Paris: Black Sun Press, 1929; SC A36), as well as between Beach, Henry Babou, and Jack Kahane for the publication of Haveth Childers Everywhere (Paris: Fountain Press, 1930; SC A41) is in the Poetry Collection of the University Libraries, University at Buffalo, The State University of New York; hereafter cited simply as Buffalo in the notes. My catalogue of the Joyce collection at Buffalo is available online at Also see Dirk van Hulle's informative publishing histories and perceptive analyses of these editions in his James Joyce's "Work in Progress": Pre-Book Publications of "Finnegans Wake" Fragments (London: Routledge, 2016).

11. Léon to Monro, Saw & Co., May 9, 1932, James Joyce–Paul Léon Collection, National Library of Ireland, unpublished; hereafter cited simply as NLI in the notes. For a comprehensive catalogue of this collection, along with very useful summaries of the contents, see Catherine Fahy (compiler), The James Joyce–Paul Léon Papers in the National Library of Ireland (Dublin: National Library of Ireland, 1992).

12. The brothers' partnership in the firm of James B. Pinker & Sons was formally dissolved in 1930 when Eric relocated to New York to set up a literary and film agency. J. Ralph continued to run the business in London but often relied on his brother for advice about the American market and often referred to his brother running the "New York office" of the firm in his correspondence with Joyce and Léon. Joyce finally decided to sever his association with the firm in mid-1937, but it was a messy arrangement in which the agent continued to earn his 10 percent commission on the contracts that he had nominally managed so far. From then on, Joyce began to rely on Monro, Saw & Co., his solicitors, to handle most of his financial dealings with his publishers, a responsibility that they would rather not have undertaken.

13. According to Peter de Voogd, the thirteen surviving copies of transition in Verhulst's library show that he was primarily interested in "Work in Progress"; see "Modernism and the Art of Printing: transition and Carolus Verhulst" in Modernism Today, edited by Sjef Houppermans, Peter Liebregts, Jan Baetens, and Otto Boele (Amsterdam and New York: Rodopi, 2013), 303–15 (307). I would like to thank De Voogd and Christie Stuut-Klaucke for sharing their knowledge of the Servire Press and their library. See Christie Klaucke, "The Servire Press: Publishing transition and 'Work in Progress' in the Netherlands: 1932–1936" (University of Utrecht: unpublished dissertation, 1995).

14. Founded by Maria and Eugene Jolas, transition published all of what would become Book I of Finnegans Wake more or less monthly from April to November 1927. Further installments of "Work in Progress" appeared only sporadically in 1928 and 1929 (a part of II.2 and all of Book III) in transition 11–13, 15, and 18 (SC C70). In June 1930, transition ceased publication when Jolas was no longer able to fund the venture. The Servire Press revived the magazine as an annual in March 1932 with the appearance of transition 21, though without a contribution from Joyce. This issue, which commemorated Joyce's fiftieth birthday and the tenth anniversary of the publication of Ulysses by Shakespeare and Company, featured an "Homage to James Joyce" and included contributions by Padraic Colum, Eugene Jolas, Thomas McGreevy, Philippe Soupault, Louis Gillet, and Stuart Gilbert, as well as the iconic caricature of Joyce by César Abin.

15. This text was eventually published as Finnegans Wake, Book I, Chapter 1 (London: Faber & Faber, 1939), 219–59.

16. Carolus Verhulst to Joyce, November 7, 1932, box 2, folder 71, James Joyce Collection, General Collection, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University; hereafter cited simply as Beinecke, with box and folder number.

17. Verhulst to Léon, November 5, 1932, Beinecke, box 2, folder 71.

18. Besides De Voogd's and Van Hulle's studies, Carol Loeb Shloss devotes considerable attention to the production and publication of this edition, but readers should note that her bibliographical account is not entirely accurate because there was only one edition of the book and it was published in 1934; see Lucia Joyce: To Dance in the Wake (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2003), 245–48.

19. For an account of Léon's pivotal role in negotiating the contract for Ulysses with the Albatross Press, see Luca Crispi, "Ulysses in the Marketplace: 1932," Joyce Studies Annual 2012 (2012): 29–65; also see Michele K. Troy, Strange Bird: The Albatross Press and the Third Reich (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2017), 43–44.

20. Léon to Verhulst, November 17, 1932, NLI; Léon's correspondence with Verhulst in the NLI consists primarily of the bottom copies that Léon retained.

21. Pinker to Léon, November 21, 1932, NLI. Faber & Faber was about to publish Two Tales Told of Shem and Shaun on December 1, 1932 as their second ordinary edition of Joyce's fragments (SC A37).

22. Léon to Pinker, November 23, 1932, NLI. Top copies of Léon's correspondence with Pinker are in the Beinecke while some bottom copies are at the NLI.

23. Pinker to Léon, November 28, 1932, NLI. Pinker's correspondence with Léon in the NLI consists primarily of top copies.

24. Léon to Pinker, December 1, 1932, NLI (SC A33 and A42).

25. Eric Pinker to J. Ralph Pinker, December 14, 1932, NLI; typed top copy prepared by J. Ralph Pinker for Léon-Joyce.

26. Léon to J. Ralph Pinker, December 27, 1932, NLI.

27. Joyce supported Lucia Joyce's endeavors with the recent deluxe edition of Pomes Penyeach in 1932 (Paris: Obelisk Press, and London: Desmond Harmsworth Ltd; SC A27), and later with Storiella as She is Syung (London: Corvinus Press, February 1938; SC A46), which contained the "Opening and Closing Pages" of Finnegans Wake Book II, Chapter 2.

28. According to De Voogd, "All of Servire's transitions are beautifully designed, with covers by Hans and Sophie Arp, Paul Klee, Fernand Léger, Marcel Duchamp, Joan Miró and Wassilij Kandinski, and ample use of photomontage, facsimile, and lithographed designs," 306.

29. Verhulst to Joyce, December 28, 1932, NLI. As there was no change in the overall royalty rate, Verhulst was apparently unwilling to pay for Lucia Joyce's art work separately; instead, he simply reduced Joyce's accordingly. Although it is unlikely that Joyce bothered to reply to Verhulst's offer, for a brief time at least the writer and publisher established a cordial relationship. In an unusual gesture of goodwill toward his publisher, Joyce even invited Verhulst to his home more than once where they discussed a scheme for Servire Press to issue the Chaucer ABC illustrated by Lucia Joyce, but nothing came of these negotiations.

30. Léon to Pinker, January 3, 1933; top copies of the correspondence are in the Charles E. Feinberg Collection, Southern Illinois University, and bottom copies are in NLI.

31. Pinker to Léon, January 10, 1933, NLI.

32. Eric Pinker to Léon, February 7, 1933, NLI.

33. Léon to Pinker, February 18, 1933, NLI.

34. Pinker to Léon, February 21, 1933, NLI.

35. Pinker to Léon, February 21, 1933, NLI. £350 in 1933 would have the real wealth value of £24,410 in 2018.

36. Léon to Pinker, February 25, 1933, top copy in the Beinecke and bottom copy in the NLI.

37. Pinker to Léon, March 14, 1933, NLI.

38. Morely to Léon, March 16, 1933, top copy in the NLI and bottom copy in the Beinecke.

39. Huebsch to Eric Pinker, March 17, 1933, NLI; typed top copy prepared by J. Ralph Pinker for Léon-Joyce.

40. Exactly one year later, Léon returned to the issue of the publicity surrounding "Work in Progress" and told Weaver that it had been "done haphazardly without any real direction by people only exteriorly acquainted with his work or thought." Then he adopted a more dramatic tone: "It is true that in spite of this his work does penetrate and is being acknowledged more and more but it is also indisputable that it penetrates only very slowly and for a mind of the character of Mr Joyce's every moment of delay acquires the significance of death." Nonetheless, Léon reported that the slow but mounting appreciation of Joyce's works is proven by the "huge amount of criticism which is pouring in from America," Léon to Weaver, March 11, 1934, NLI.

41. Between 1928 and 1930, five volumes of "Work in Progress" were published solely for copyright reasons in the United States. For further details about these publications, see SC A30, A31, A34, A35, and A38, as well as Robert Spoo, Without Copyrights: Piracy, Publishing, and the Public Domain (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 104–5.

42. On April 17, 1932, Lucia Joyce refused to accompany her parents when they attempted to establish residence in London. At the end of May 1932, she was institutionalized at Dr. Gaston Maillard's clinic at l'Hay-les-Roses for over a month, after which her parents took her with them to Feldkirch, Austria. A year later, at the end of July 1933, Lucia Joyce was taken to Les Rives de Prangins in Nyon, Switzerland, where she was under the care of Dr. Oscar Forel for the first time. After an outburst at her father's birthday celebration in 1934, Lucia Joyce was returned to the sanatorium in Nyon.

43. Léon to Pinker, April 3, 1933, NLI. As far as is known, no effort was made to copyright this or any the subsequent "Work in Progress" fragment in the United States.

44. For a ground-breaking analysis of the publication of Finnegans Wake, see Geert Lernout, "Finishing a Book Without Title: The Final Years of 'Work in Progress,'" Joyce Studies Annual 2013 (2013): 3–32.

45. Huebsch to Eric Pinker, April 18, 1933, NLI; typed top copy prepared by J. Ralph Pinker for Léon-Joyce.

46. Léon to Pinker, May 12, 1933, NLI.

47. In fact, as far as is known, the Viking Press did not raise any issues in October 1937 when Joyce decided to have his final deluxe small press fragment, Storiealla As She is Syung, published.

48. Léon to Pinker, March 27, 1933, NLI. As far as is known, none of Lucia Joyce's original artwork for The Mime of Mick, Nick and the Maggies survives.

49. Léon to Pinker, April 3, 1933, NLI.

50. Léon to Pinker, April 3, 1933, NLI.

51. Pinker to Léon, April 24, 1933, NLI.

52. Pinker to Léon, April 24, 1933, NLI. Because the setting typescript of this text for transition is also missing, it is impossible to know how much Joyce added and changed, though presumably it was as heavily emended as all of the previous installments that had appeared in transition. For the most detailed discussion of the genesis of the "Children's Games" chapter, see Sam Slote, "Blanks for When Words Gone: Chapter II.1" in How Joyce Wrote "Finnegans Wake": A Chapter-by-Chapter Genetic Guide, edited by Luca Crispi and Sam Slote, 181–213 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2007). The surviving manuscripts of this chapter were reproduced over forty years ago as black-and-white, high-contrast photo-facsimiles in the James Joyce Archive (New York: Garland Publishing, 1977), edited by Michael Groden et al., vol. 51.

53. Léon to Pinker, May 1, 1933, Beinecke, box 2, folder 72.

54. Verhulst to Pinker, May 18, 1933, Beinecke, box 2, folder 72.

55. Léon to Pinker, May 29, 1933, NLI. No listing of the original colors has been located; also see Pinker to Léon, May 19, 1933, NLI.

56. Anne Brady, founder of Vermillion Graphic in Dublin, who examined the three copies of the ordinary edition in the NLI and the copy of the deluxe edition in UCD Special Collections, Curran Collection, writes: "The front cover is printed initially in black line (single colour) using a letterpress line block. Three additional colours appear to be used and possibly applied by an overprinted screen printing method or alternatively by hand. […] The tailpiece […] is again printed in black initially as a line block in letterpress. This graphic line block would have been locked up in the same printing form potentially as the text on the page (for speed of printing) and printed on the same pass as the text. The colours on the tail piece have been applied separately and look hand painted. [… Each] book might have taken an hour each to paint x 1,000 books 1,000 hours (plus a contingency of 100 hours) 1,100 hours x 4 people working at 8–10 hours per day approx 1 month in hand-painting time. [The initial] appears to have been printed using slightly separate printing processes. The black line of the initial letter is printed in letterpress line. eg. a solid line. There is then an overprinting of three other colours including magenta (pink), cyan (blue) and yellow. This technique could have been produced using halftones for letterpress printing […] or alternatively by halftones for lithographic printing […] with each colour being screened into dots and printed separately in different colour passes through the press. […] The aesthetic result is satisfying although I imagine the commercial reality of employing hand painters and delaying the launch date in 1934 may have been quite challenging for the original publisher" (email to the author, February 17, 2019).

57. Léon to Pinker, June 20, 1933, NLI. Joyce used the same title when he gave an excerpt from this fragment to appear in the only issue of the Bulletin Hebdomadaire de l'Academie de la Couple (Paris, February 23, 1934; see SC C91).

58. Verhulst to Léon, September 30, 1933, NLI.

59. Because Joyce almost always added to the text when a new publication opportunity presented itself, the fact that he refused to either correct, revise, or amplify this text is a most unusual occurrence in the genesis of "Work in Progress." Nonetheless, Joyce made up for this anomaly by the time Finnegans Wake appeared. According to Van Hulle, "Of all the separately published fragments, The Mime is the text that expanded most spectacularly after the pre-book publication" (Van Hulle 195). Such a significant amount of expansion at a relatively late stage of revision can be accounted for by the fact that Joyce had not been willing or able to revise it earlier when the opportunity arose.

60. Léon to Verhulst, October 3, 1933, NLI. There is no evidence in the surviving correspondence that Léon actually had any other offer for the fragment.

61. Verhulst to Léon, October 5, 1933, NLI.

62. Léon to Pinker, October 21, 1933, NLI.

63. Carol Shloss erroneously tries to correct Ellmann's account of the publication history of The Mime (248 and 501n120). Two dates inadvertently appear in the volume: "MCMXXXIV" on the title page and "1933" on the notice of design and copyright page. Nonetheless, all of the available information indicates that the book was, in fact, issued in June 1934, just as Slocum and Cahoon recorded in 1953.

64. The firm of G. J. Thieme in Nijmegen, Holland, printed the book and S. H. de Roos designed the Grotius typeface they used (see SC A43).

65. Joyce to Giorgio and Helen Joyce, June 1, 1934.

66. Verhulst to Léon, August 15, 1934, NLI. On August 13, 1934, Verhulst also confirmed to Léon that another deluxe copy was sent to Frau Leni Vogt-Wiederkehr, NLI.

67. Pinker to Léon, November 17 and 22, 1934, NLI.

68. A note in Beach's hand that accompanies the book reveals an unexplained story about how this copy came into her possession: "purchased by Adrienne Monnier/paid by cheque/from a man who came to her/library to offer this copy/(Mme Leon's brother she said)."

69. Publicity leaflet, Servire Press correspondence, NLI.

70. Liverpool Post, January 6, 1934, Buffalo Joyce newspaper clippings collection.

71. The Scotsman, October 15, 1934, Joyce/Léon newspaper clippings collection in the NLI; see Fahy, section 9, page 232.

72. G. W. Stonier, New Statesman (September 22, 1934), viii, 364; reprinted in Robert Deming, James Joyce: Critical Heritage (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1970), vol. 2, 609–10 (610).

73. Morning Post, October 5, 1934, NLI.

74. New York Evening Sun: "A Dublin Letter" by Diarmuid O'Mahony: June 1934 [day not legible on clipping], NLI.

75. Irish Times, "James Joyce's Experiment with Language: 'Circumveiloped by Obscuritads': Another Instalment 'Work in Progress,'" October 27, 1934, NLI.

76. As far as is known, the Viking Press was not informed of this arrangement, nor did they complain about it.

77. Verhulst to Beach, February 1, 1932, Buffalo: "XIII. Correspondence to Beach and/or Shakespeare and Company." Verhulst's letters to Beach in the Buffalo collection are all top copies.

78. [Beach] to Verhulst, February 13, 1932, Buffalo: "XII. Correspondence from Sylvia Beach & Shakespeare and Company." Beach's letters to Verhulst in the Buffalo collection are all bottom copies.

79. Verhulst to Beach, February 15, 1932, Buffalo.

80. Unless otherwise specified, all further references to francs are to French francs.

81. Verhulst to Beach, November 30, 1933, Buffalo.

82. Beach to Verhulst, December 13, 1933, Buffalo.

83. Verhulst to Beach, December 15, 1933, Buffalo.

84. Beach to Verhulst, December 20, 1933, Buffalo.

85. The Servire Press accounting to June 30, 1934, NLI; also see Pinker to Léon, November 23, 1934, NLI. One Dutch guilder was worth 10.28 francs, Le Figaro, Saturday, June 30, 1934, 7; all published rates refer to the previous day's valuation.

86. Ellmann describes this as an "astonishing royalty" (JJII 504). Joyce's claim has fueled some persistent misinterpretations about his financial status as a modernist writer; see, for example, Lawrence Rainey, "Consuming Investments: Joyce's Ulysses," James Joyce Quarterly 33, no. 4 (Summer 1996): 531–67. In his Literature, Money and the Market (Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire; New York: Palgrave, 2002), Paul Delany puts forward a persuasive corrective argument, but, given the large amount of archival material that exists, it is just one aspect of the broader investigation of modernism in the marketplace that needs to be undertaken.

87. Buffalo Joyce collection, XVIII, "Miscellaneous Material Related to Joyce's Works," section E. See Luca Crispi, "Sylvia Beach's Joyce Collection at Buffalo" in Discovering James Joyce: The University at Buffalo Collection, edited by James Maynard (Buffalo: The Poetry Collection, University at Buffalo, The State University of New York, 2009), 29–37 (32–33).

88. Buffalo: "XVIII. Miscellaneous Material Related to Joyce's Works," section E, folder 21.

89. Buffalo: "XX. Miscellaneous Sylvia Beach & Shakespeare and Company Material," folder 5.

90. There was still 4,475 francs to come in to Shakespeare and Company, which was only about 2.5 percent of the total possible gross revenue for the edition.

91. The pound sterling was worth $1.33 in 2018, according to Lawrence H. Officer, "Dollar-Pound Exchange Rate From 1791," MeasuringWorth, 2019, Therefore, Joyce's royalties in dollars would have had a real wealth value of $75,344.50 in 2018.

92. Léon to Pinker, July 3, 1935, NLI.

93. Pinker to Léon, July 25, 1935, NLI.

94. I Dutch guilder was worth 10.24 francs. Le Figaro, Saturday, December 30, 1934, 7.

95. James B. Pinker & Sons accounting statement for the Servire Press, August 2, 1935.

96. The August 2, 1935 royalty statement also allows us to extrapolate the discount rates the Servire Press offered to retailers: 41 percent on the deluxe copies (that is, they charged ƒ11.65 or 119.29 francs) and 34 percent on the ordinary ones (ƒ2.26 or 23.14 francs). The statement also allows us to calculate the amount outstanding on the three deluxe and the 259 ordinary unsold copies: ƒ620.29 (6,351.46 francs), of which Joyce's royalty would have been ƒ186.08 (1,905.45 francs) and Lucia's ƒ62.02 (or 635.05 francs).

97. Pinker to Léon, August 30, 1935, NLI. It is not known if Pinker received answers to these questions.

98. Le Figaro, September 12, 1935, 7.

99. Pinker to Léon, September 11, 1935, NLI.

100. Pinker to Joyce, October 24, 1935, NLI.

101. £1 in 1934 was worth about £70 in 2018.

102. This first English edition of Ulysses printed in England was published on October 3, 1936 (SC 23).

103. [Pinker] to Léon, April 17, 1935, NLI. To put the success of the Random House edition of Ulysses in perspective, from February 1922 to May 1930, Sylvia Beach's Shakespeare and Company printed only 25,000 copies of the Paris edition of Ulysses. Similarly, from December 1932 to December 1938, the Odyssey Press in Hamburg printed even fewer copies of their edition of Ulysses: only 17,600, of which they sold just 15,317 copies. On the other hand, just in 1934, Random House printed 50,000 copies; that is, 8,000 copies more than Shakespeare and Company and the Odyssey Press combined ever printed; Pinker to Léon, June 6, 1935, NLI.

104. Pinker to Joyce, Random House royalty statements for 1934, NLI.

105. According to Le Figaro, on December 30, 1934, $1 was worth 1,513 francs, p. 7.

106. Munro, Saw and Co. annual statements for 1933–34 and 1934–35, NLI.

107. Paul Léon to Harriet Shaw Weaver, March 11, 1934, top copy is in British Library and bottom copy in NLI.

108. Pinker to Joyce, Random House royalty statements, April 4 and September 18, 1935, NLI; and Le Figaro, Saturday, January 12, 1935, 9.

109. Pinker & Sons' Random House royalty statements, March 23 and September 16, 1937, NLI.

110. Carlton Elite Hotel bill, NLI; see section 11.6 of Fahy catalogue (p. 236). One Swiss franc was worth 4.90 francs; Le Figaro, Saturday, January 12, 1935, 9.

111. "Correspondence of Paul Léon with L. Petit, landlord of James Joyce's flat at 7 rue Edmond Valentin," NLI; see section 12.9 of Fahy catalogue (238).

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