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Stephen’s birth. Although editor of a major (though steadily
declining) newspaper, Crawford cannot even correctly identify
the year of a crucial event in modern Irish history. His
incompetence bespeaks the perceptible decline of the
Freeman
in 1904. Shortly after making his appearance in the episode, in
fact, Crawford confuses fantasy and history. He bursts out all
of a sudden: “North Cork militia! . . . We won every time!
North Cork and Spanish officers!” (105). When Ned Lambert
asks where that was, the editor shouts, “In Ohio!” (105).
Crawford’s information is simply dubious. The North Cork
Militia was loyal to the English ruler, not the nationalists, in
the Rebellion of 1798. It suffered defeat in every battle rather
than having “won every time.” The mention of Spanish officers
and Ohio can only be baffling: the battles had nothing to do
with either. Don Gifford and Robert J. Seidman suggest that
Crawford may have confused the North Cork Militia with the
Irish Brigade, which did distinguish itself in battles and was
commanded by officers of Spanish-Irish descent (1988: 135).
Crawford’s “mad historical confusions,” Platt remarks, “have
the rousing tone of radical discourse but . . . in content
hopelessly conflate centuries, allegiances, and failures with
victories”; these confusions, as Platt sees them, are “[p]erhaps
the most poignant sign of the times” (1998: 743). Most
poignant is the fact that these “mad historical confusions” are
made by the editor of a major newspaper responsible for
inspiring and directing the people in troubled times.
Crawford is not the only editor in “Aeolus.” Before his
encounter with the editor of the evening daily, Bloom catches a
glimpse of William Brayden, a barrister and the actual editor of
the morning daily, the
Freeman’s Journal
:
a stately figure entered between the newsboards of
the
Weekly Freeman and National Press
and the
Freeman’s Journal and National Press
. . . . It passed
statelily up the staircase, steered by an umbrella, a