It is a tricky, archaic construction that feels like it’s missing a word to our modern ears. To understand it, you have to treat “this side” as a preposition, almost like the word “short of.”
1. The Grammatical Breakdown
In modern English, we would say: “I love him just short of idolatry” or “I love him on this side of idolatry.”
* Idolatry: The worship of a physical object or person as a god.
* This side: Imagine a physical line. On one side is “sane, respectful admiration.” On the other side of the line is “insane, religious worship (idolatry).”
* The Grammar: Ben Jonson (and John Eglinton) are saying, “I go right up to the very edge of the line, but I stay on this side of it.” I admire him as much as a human can be admired without it becoming a sin or a mental illness.
2. The Original Source
The phrase comes from Ben Jonson’s timber (or Discoveries), published in 1641. Jonson was Shakespeare’s friend and rival. He wrote:
> “I loved the man, and do honour his memory (on this side idolatry) as much as any.”
>
Jonson was famous for being a “Classicist”—he believed in rules, logic, and order. He was essentially saying, “Look, I’m a rational man who doesn’t believe in worshipping human beings, but Shakespeare was so good that he almost made me break my own rules.”
3. Why it matters in the Library
In this chapter, the intellectuals are debating whether art is divine (Russell’s view) or human (Stephen’s view).
By using the phrase “this side idolatry,” Eglinton is positioning himself as a “rational” critic. He’s saying, “I’m not a mystic like George Russell who thinks Shakespeare is a ‘formless spiritual essence,’ but I’m also not a ‘schoolboy’ who thinks it’s all just academic facts.” He’s claiming the middle ground.
In this passage, Stephen’s internal monologue is a complex blend of Irish nationalist mythology, personal resentment toward his friend Cranly, and a fierce rejection of the “airy” mysticism of the Dublin elite.
1. The Wicklowmen and the Tinahely Twelve
Stephen is thinking about his friend Cranly (based on Joyce’s real-life friend J.F. Byrne), who came from Wicklow.
* Tinahely: A village in County Wicklow.
* The Twelve: Stephen is sarcastically comparing Cranly and his followers to the Twelve Apostles. By calling them the “Tinahely twelve” and saying “ave, rabbi,” he mocks the way he once looked up to Cranly as a leader or a “sire.”
* “In the shadow of the glen”: A reference to the play by J.M. Synge, set in Wicklow. Stephen feels he wasted his “soul’s youth” on Cranly, who has now “betrayed” him by being more conventional than he appeared.
2. Gaptoothed Kathleen and the Four Green Fields
This is a biting, de-romanticized image of Ireland.
* Kathleen ni Houlihan: A traditional personification of Ireland as a beautiful woman (often a “Poor Old Woman”). In W.B. Yeats’s famous play, she calls on young men to die for her.
* Gaptoothed: Stephen rejects the “beautiful” version of Ireland. To him, she is “gaptoothed”—old, decaying, and perhaps a bit ugly.
* Four Beautiful Green Fields: A classic metaphor for the four provinces of Ireland (Ulster, Munster, Leinster, and Connacht).
* The Stranger in Her House: A nationalist code for the British occupation. Stephen is acknowledging the political struggle but viewing it through a lens of exhaustion and cynicism.
3. The Great Debate: Aesthetic vs. Academic
The dialogue between Eglinton and Russell (AE) represents the two “monsters” Stephen must navigate:
* John Eglinton (The Realist): He is the “Saxon” admirer. He wants a great Irish figure but measures everything against Shakespeare. He is skeptical and “censures” the young poets for not being “great” enough yet.
* George Russell (The Mystic): He “oracles” from the shadows. To him, the identity of the artist (was it Shakespeare or Essex?) doesn’t matter. Only the “formless spiritual essences” matter. He cites Gustave Moreau, a French Symbolist painter famous for his dreamlike, mythic canvases.
4. “Saxon” and “Idolatry”
* Saxon: A common nationalist term for the English. Eglinton uses it to remind the “young Irish bards” that their greatest model, Shakespeare, belongs to the colonizer.
* On this side idolatry: This is a famous quote from Ben Jonson, a contemporary of Shakespeare, who said he loved the man “this side idolatry” (meaning he loved him deeply but didn’t worship him as a god).
Stephen listens to all of this and thinks: “Folly. Persist.” He knows he is about to shock them with a theory that is neither purely “academic” nor purely “spiritual,” but deeply, uncomfortably human.
In this passage, Stephen’s mind is a battleground between the “high” art being discussed by the librarians and the “low” vulgarity of his own experiences and frustrations.
1. “Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood / Tears such as angels weep.”
This is Stephen’s internal riff on John Milton’s Paradise Lost. He is using Miltonic imagery to mock the self-importance of the intellectuals in the room.
* “Orchestral Satan”: Stephen views the fallen angel as a grand, dramatic, and aesthetic figure—the ultimate “ineffectual dreamer.” The word “orchestral” suggests a performance; he sees the scholars’ intellectualizing as a loud, symphonic display of ego.
* “Weeping many a rood”: As we discussed, this plays on the rood as a unit of land (one-quarter acre). In Paradise Lost, Satan is so massive that he covers several roods of the burning lake. By saying he is “weeping” many a rood, Stephen suggests a comical, over-the-top level of sorrow—tears that could flood a field.
* “Tears such as angels weep”: This is a direct quote from Milton (Book I, line 620). It refers to the idea that even in damnation, Satan retains a “celestial” quality.
* The Interpretation: Stephen is feeling “fallen” and bitter. He identifies with Satan—the rebel intellectual—but he also mocks the idea of “poetic suffering.” He’s basically saying, “We are all sitting here pretending to be grand, fallen angels, but we’re just talking in a library.”
2. “Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta.”
This is one of the most famous (and crudest) lines in Dante’s Inferno (Canto XXI, line 139).
* Literal Translation: “And he had made a trumpet of his anus.”
* Context in Dante: In the Inferno, a group of demons (the Malebranche) are escorting Dante and Virgil. Their leader, Barbariccia, gives a signal to start their march by… passing gas.
* The Interpretation: Stephen uses this to puncture the “spiritual” atmosphere created by George Russell (AE) and the Librarian. While they talk about “formless spiritual essences” and “Plato’s world of ideas,” Stephen’s mind provides the ultimate biological “noise.”
The “Sizar’s Laugh” Connection
By pairing these two verses, Stephen is performing a mental “high-low” act:
* The High: Milton’s grand, measureless Satan.
* The Low: Dante’s farting demon.
He “laughs low: a sizar’s laugh.” As a sizar (a poor student), Stephen feels the gap between the “pure ideas” being discussed and the “dirty” reality of life (like the medical student’s song about the “female catheter”). He uses the Dante quote to say that all this high-brow talk is just “wind.”
You are absolutely right. In a religious and architectural context, a rood is indeed a crucifix. However, because Stephen Dedalus is a master of double meanings, he is playing with both the religious and the physical definitions of the word.
1. The Religious Etymology (The Cross)
* Root: From the Old English rōd, meaning a “pole” or “stake.”
* The Development: Over time, it specifically came to mean the Holy Rood (the Cross of Christ).
* The Architecture: In medieval churches, a Rood Screen was a decorated screen separating the chancel from the nave, usually topped by a large crucifix called a Rood.
2. The Measurement Etymology (The Land)
* Root: Also from the Old English rōd, but used in the sense of a measuring rod.
* The Measurement: In British Imperial units, a rood is a unit of area equal to one-quarter of an acre (or 40 square perches).
* The Literary Reference: Stephen is quoting (and slightly altering) John Milton’s Paradise Lost, where the fallen Satan is described as being so gargantuan that he lies prone on the burning lake covering “many a rood.”
Why Stephen uses it here:
Stephen is being a “clever young man” by mixing these two meanings:
* The Physical Scale: He is mocking the “grandeur” of the intellectuals’ talk by evoking the image of a massive, sprawling Satan.
* The Religious Weight: By using a word that also means “crucifix,” he injects a sense of martyrdom and “holy” suffering into his own intellectual struggle. He feels “crucified” by the indifference of the older scholars (the “ollavs”).
In the Ninth Episode, Stephen Dedalus enters the National Library to prove his “Hamlet theory” to a group of skeptical, older intellectuals. He must navigate between the high-flying mysticism of the Platonists (Russell/AE) and the hard-headed realism of the Aristotelians (Eglinton).
Etymology of Scylla and Charybdis
The chapter title is taken from Homer’s Odyssey, where Odysseus must sail through a narrow strait guarded by two monsters.
1. Scylla (Σκύλλα)
* Etymology: Derived from the Greek verb skyllō, meaning “to tear,” “to rend,” or “to mangle.” Some linguists also link it to skylax, meaning “puppy” or “dog,” which explains the myth that she had barking dogs protruding from her waist.
* In Ulysses: Scylla represents Aristotle and Dogma. She is the “rock” of hard, cold facts and historical literalism. For Stephen, this is the danger of being too grounded in the material world.
2. Charybdis (Χάρυβδις)
* Etymology: Likely a compound of chaskō (“to gape” or “yawn”) and rhibdō (“to suck in”).
* Meaning: “The Engulfer.” In mythology, she was a whirlpool that sucked the sea down three times a day.
* In Ulysses: Charybdis represents Plato and Mysticism. She is the “whirlpool” of George Russell’s “formless spiritual essences.” The danger here is losing one’s identity in vague, ethereal ideas and “eternal wisdom.”
The “Shining Seven” and Stephen’s Argument
When the Librarian mentions that “Seven is dear to the mystic mind,” he is referencing the Theosophical and occult beliefs popular in 1904 Dublin.
* The Seven: This refers to the “Seven Rays” or the seven planets of antiquity. W.B. Yeats (referred to as “W.B.”) and George Russell believed that human history and the soul were governed by these celestial cycles.
* Stephen’s Counter: Stephen finds this talk “airy.” He wants to bring the discussion down to the “filthy” reality of Shakespeare’s life. He argues that Hamlet is not just an “idea,” but a reflection of Shakespeare’s own pain as a cuckolded husband and a grieving father.
Stephen’s Internal Music
Stephen’s mind is a library of its own. He quotes:
> “Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood / Tears such as angels weep.”
>
This is a riff on Milton’s Paradise Lost. A rood (etymologically from rod) is an old unit of measurement (about a quarter of an acre). Stephen is ironically comparing the “grand” tears of Satan to the “Sorrows of Satan” (a popular, trashy novel of the time) that John Eglinton accuses him of writing.
Welcome to Scylla and Charybdis, the ninth chapter of Ulysses.
While the previous chapter (Lestrygonians) was dominated by Bloom’s stomach and the physical “sludge” of Dublin, we have now shifted to the National Library. Here, the “food” is intellectual. We find Stephen Dedalus engaged in a high-brow, ego-driven debate with the leading intellectuals of the Irish Literary Revival.
The title refers to the Greek myth of the two sea monsters: Stephen must navigate between the “Scylla” of Aristotelian dogmatic materialism and the “Charybdis” of Platonic mysticism.
Etymology of Difficult Terms
1. Sinkapace
* Etymology: From the French cinq pas (five steps).
* Meaning: An old English name for the cinquepace, a lively dance consisting of five steps. Joyce uses it to describe the Librarian’s fussy, rhythmic movements as he steps “forward and backward.”
2. Corantoed
* Etymology: From the Italian corrente or French courante (running).
* Meaning: Another dance reference. To move in the manner of a Courante, a dance characterized by running and gliding steps. The Librarian doesn’t just walk; he performs a nervous, academic ballet.
3. Neatsleather
* Etymology: “Neat” is an old English term for bovine cattle (from the Proto-Germanic nautam, meaning “property” or “cattle”).
* Meaning: Leather made from the hide of an ox or cow. Joyce highlights the physical “creak” of the Librarian’s boots, grounding his lofty talk of Goethe in the reality of noisy shoes.
4. Ollav (Ollamh)
* Etymology: From the Old Irish ollam, meaning “highest” or “greatest.”
* Meaning: In ancient Gaelic culture, an Ollamh was a member of the highest rank of learned men (poets, lawyers, or scholars). Stephen uses this term to describe the bearded, “holyeyed” intellectual George Russell (AE), mocking his mystical air.
5. Sizar
* Etymology: Derived from “size” (the fixed portions of food and drink at a college).
* Meaning: A student at Trinity College Dublin (or Cambridge) who received an allowance for food and tuition in exchange for performing menial tasks. A “sizar’s laugh” is the laugh of someone socially inferior but intellectually sharp—bitter and servile at once.
6. Rufous
* Etymology: From the Latin rufus (red).
* Meaning: Reddish-brown or rust-colored. It describes the color of the scholar’s skull/hair under the lamplight.
Key References & Puns
* “Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta”: This is a famous, vulgar line from Dante’s Inferno. It translates to: “And he had made a trumpet of his ass.” Stephen thinks of this as he listens to the “windy” intellectualizing of the scholars.
* Monsieur de la Palice: A French officer famous for a song containing the redundant line “fifteen minutes before his death, he was still alive.” Stephen is calling John Eglinton’s observations “truisms”—stating the obvious.
* The female catheter: This bawdy medical student song is a sharp, “medical” interruption in Stephen’s mind, contrasting the “formless spiritual essences” being discussed by the mystics.
In this high-tension finale to the Lestrygonians episode, Bloom’s body and mind are in a state of panic. He is physically dodging Blazes Boylan, the man who is about to visit his wife, while his thoughts race through legal history, local charities, and architectural trivia to keep from collapsing under the stress.
1. Etymology: Sir Frederick Falkiner
Sir Frederick Falkiner was a real person—the Recorder of Dublin (a senior judge). Bloom watches him enter the Freemasons’ Hall on Molesworth Street.
* Frederick: Of Germanic origin (Friedrich).
* Frid: Means “peace.”
* Ric: Means “ruler” or “power.”
* Meaning: “Peaceful Ruler.” Bloom notes the irony, as Falkiner is a “crusty old toper” who hands out ten-year sentences, though Bloom admits he is a “wellmeaning old man.”
* Falkiner: An occupational surname.
* Origin: It is a variant of Falconer.
* Meaning: Someone who breeds, trains, or hunts with falcons. In the medieval period, this was a high-status job, fitting for a man of the “legal cronies” and “annals of the bluecoat school.”
2. Quopped?
When Bloom sees Boylan’s “straw hat in sunlight,” his heart “quopped softly.”
* Definition: Quop is an archaic or dialect word meaning to throb, palpitate, or quiver.
* The Sensation: It perfectly describes the physical feeling of a “skip” in the heartbeat caused by sudden anxiety. It isn’t a loud bang; it’s a soft, sickening throb of dread.
* Why Joyce uses it: It captures the physical vulnerability of Bloom. He is “heady” from the wine and his heart is literally trembling as he “swerves” away from the man he fears.
The “Potato” and the “Soap”
As Bloom fumbles through his pockets to look “busy” so Boylan won’t notice him, he feels several items:
* Agendath Netaim: The advertisement for the planter’s colony in Palestine he picked up this morning.
* The Potato: Bloom carries a shriveled potato in his pocket as a talisman or lucky charm (a common superstition to ward off rheumatism or bad luck).
* The Soap: The bar of lemon soap he bought for Molly earlier. It’s “stuck” to his papers because of the heat. It is a sensory reminder of his domestic life just as he is fleeing from the man threatening it.
“Safe!”
Bloom ducks into the Museum. The “cold statues” and “quiet” offer a sanctuary from the “wine” and the “sunlight” and the “handsome” Boylan. He has successfully avoided the confrontation, but his heart is still “beating” against the “cream curves of stone.”
Actually, it’s a bit of both, but the humor lies in how the phrase travels between them. Let’s clear up the confusion:
1. The Origin: Molly’s Mispronunciation
Earlier in the morning (in the Calypso episode), Molly is in bed reading a novel and comes across the word. She asks Bloom what it means, pronouncing it something like “met-him-pike-hoses.” She knows it’s a “big” word and can’t quite wrap her tongue around the Greek roots.
2. The Internal Echo: Bloom’s Version
In the passage you just read, we are inside Bloom’s mind. Because he’s been thinking about her all day, he “hears” the word in his head exactly the way she said it.
When Bloom thinks “the reincarnation met him pike hoses,” he is essentially mocking the word himself or simply using Molly’s “translation” as a mental shorthand. It’s a “Bloomism”—he knows the real word is metempsychosis, but the absurd image of “pikes” (weapons) and “hoses” is stickier in his brain.
What does “Met Him Pike Hoses” actually mean?
Literally? Nothing. It is a mondegreen—a mishearing of a phrase that creates a new, nonsensical meaning.
* Pike: A long-handled weapon with a pointed metal head, used by infantry.
* Hose: Either flexible tubing for water or the tight-fitting leg coverings (stockings) worn by men in earlier centuries.
The “meaning” is purely phonetic. If you say “Met-him-pike-hoses” quickly, it sounds remarkably like Met-em-psy-cho-sis.
Why did Joyce do this?
It’s a brilliant joke about Transmigration of Souls. The word metempsychosis (the soul moving into a new body) actually “transmigrates” into a new “body” of words (met him pike hoses). The word itself undergoes the very process it describes!
In this poignant conclusion to the encounter, Bloom uses the blind stripling as a mirror for his own sensory and philosophical preoccupations. He moves from scientific curiosity about the “feeling of white” to a deep, troubled meditation on the lack of justice in the universe.
The Sensory World of the Blind
Bloom, ever the amateur scientist, wonders how the world is constructed without sight.
* The Smell of Streets: He imagines a city mapped by odor—bunched together, each street distinct. He posits that without sight, “shamelessness” increases because the gaze of others is removed.
* The “Feeling” of Color: He wonders if “white” feels different from “black.” This is a classic Bloomian thought—trying to translate a visual quality into a tactile one.
* The Belly: In a characteristic moment of private eccentricity, he tests his own skin. He notes the “downy hair” of his cheek and decides the “belly is the smoothest.” To verify his theory about the blind boy, he even slides his hand under his waistcoat to feel the “slack fold” of his stomach—an act of physical self-mapping.
“Met Him Pike Hoses” (Metempsychosis)
Bloom’s mind wanders to a “Holocaust” (referring here to a great slaughter or disaster) in New York—specifically the General Slocum disaster of June 1904, where over 1,000 people, mostly women and children on an excursion, drowned or burned.
* The Term: He struggles with the word metempsychosis (the transmigration of souls), which Molly asked him to explain earlier that morning.
* The Corruption: Unable to grasp the complex Greek term, his mind renders it as “met him pike hoses.” It’s a perfect Joycean pun: a heavy, philosophical concept is “translated” by the common man into a series of everyday objects (pikes and hoses).
* The Philosophical Conflict: Bloom is a man of “Pity,” but he is also a rationalist. He struggles with “Karma,” finding it hard to believe that children are born blind or burned in fires as punishment for “sins you did in a past life.”
The word stripling is a classic example of how English uses suffixes to describe “smaller” or “lesser” versions of things. In this case, it refers to a youth who is “thin as a strip.”
1. Literal Meaning
* Root: Strip (a long, narrow piece of something).
* Suffix: -ling (a diminutive suffix used to indicate youth, smallness, or unimportance—as in duckling, gosling, or underling).
* Definition: Literally, a “little strip” of a person. It implies a young man who has grown tall but hasn’t yet “filled out” or gained the muscle of adulthood.
2. Historical Evolution
* Middle English: It first appeared around the 14th century.
* The Metaphor: The idea was that a boy in his late teens is like a “strip” of wood or cloth—long, slender, and flexible.
* Usage in Ulysses: Joyce uses it to emphasize the boy’s vulnerability and his “thin elbow.” To Bloom, who is preoccupied with the “heaviness” of the world (food, bodies, statues), the boy is a fragile, narrow figure navigating a wide, dangerous street.
3. The “-ling” Family
Bloom, with his love for words and patterns, might have enjoyed the connection to other -ling words:
* Sapling: A young tree (continuing the wood/strip metaphor).
* Foundling: A deserted infant (linking to Bloom’s thoughts on “pauper children”).
* Yearling: An animal one year old (linking to his thoughts on the Gold Cup horses).
In this movement, Bloom attempts to distract himself from the looming thought of Molly’s 4:00 PM tryst with Blazes Boylan. He tries to focus on his finances (“Keyes” and the “ads”) and performs a random act of kindness for a blind stripling (a young man).
1. “A cenar teco”
Bloom is humming the climactic scene of Mozart’s opera Don Giovanni.
* The Meaning: Teco is a contraction of the Latin-derived Italian te (you) and con (with). So, “A cenar teco” literally means “To dine with you.”
* The Correction: Bloom guesses it means “tonight,” but he is wrong. The full line is: Don Giovanni, a cenar teco m’invitasti (“Don Giovanni, you invited me to dine with you”).
* The Significance: In the opera, the man who was invited to dinner is a stone statue (the Commendatore). This is deeply significant because Bloom has just been thinking about the stone statues in the museum. It also touches on the theme of “invitations”—Bloom has not been invited to his own home this afternoon, while Boylan has.
2. The Blind Stripling
The “blind stripling” is one of the most important symbolic figures in the Lestrygonians episode.
* The Encounter: Bloom sees the young man struggling to cross the street and steps in to help. This highlights Bloom’s genuine empathy—he doesn’t just feel pity; he takes the “limp seeing hand” and guides him.
* Sensory Contrast: This episode is all about food and sight. Bloom has been obsessed with looking at things (sardines, statues, Boylan). The stripling represents a world where sight is absent, forcing Bloom to think about how the other senses work.
* The “Wallface”: Bloom notes the boy’s “wallface.” This reinforces the theme of “blindness” in the book—not just physical blindness, but the spiritual and emotional blindness of the Dubliners who cannot see Bloom’s true worth.
* Bloom’s Internal Kindness: Even while his heart is breaking over Molly, Bloom is careful not to be “condescending.” He treats the boy as an equal, proving he is a “decent man,” as Davy Byrne called him.
3. “The Soupers” (Birds’ Nest)
Bloom passes a bookstore and thinks about “soup to change to protestants.”
* Historical Context: During the Irish Potato Famine, some Protestant missions offered food (soup) to starving Catholics on the condition that they convert. Those who did were derisively called “Soupers.”
* The Connection: Since Bloom is currently obsessed with food/digestion and religion, this historical memory fits perfectly. He sees religion as just another form of “bait” used to fill a hungry stomach.
In the context of the passage, “swank” is Dublin slang for something posh, pretentious, or high-class. When Nosey Flynn mentions Molly eating “plovers on toast,” he is signaling that the Blooms have “swanky” tastes—eating expensive game birds while the average Dubliner might be lucky to have a bit of bacon.
Etymology of “Swank”
The word has a fascinatingly energetic history:
* Origin: It likely comes from the Middle High German swanken, meaning “to sway” or “to swagger.”
* The “Swag”: It’s related to the idea of moving one’s body in a boastful, swinging way. By the late 19th century, it shifted from describing a physical movement to describing a lifestyle or behavior intended to impress others.
* Joyce’s Use: Bloom is constantly navigating the line between the “swank” (the elite, the “Crème de la crème,” the ladies with “powdered bosoms”) and the gritty reality of the “casual wards” and “mouldy tripes.”
The “Swanky” Plover
A plover is a small wading bird. In 1904, serving them on toast was a hallmark of a high-end Victorian or Edwardian savory course.
> Bloom’s Internal Irony: While Nosey Flynn thinks Bloom is a “safe man” with a “swank” wife, Bloom is actually wandering the streets worrying about his wife’s infidelity and counting his pennies for a cheese sandwich.
>
As Bloom approaches the National Museum and Library, his scientific curiosity takes a turn toward the anatomical. He is heading specifically toward the Kildare Street entrance, home to the plaster casts of classical antiquities.
The Quest for the Goddesses
Bloom is obsessed with the transition from the “ideal” (statues) to the “real” (the human body). He wants to know if the Greek goddesses—symbols of perfection—possess the same “exit” for food that humans do.
* The Museum Statues: He is thinking of the Venus de Milo and the Venus of Praxiteles. In his mind, these “immortal lovely” forms are superior to humans because they don’t have to “stoke the engine” with food and produce “dung.”
* The Experiment: He plans to drop a piece of paper or “let something fall” so he can bend down and look behind the statues. He wants to see if the sculptor included a “rectum.” It is a hilariously literal, “Bloomian” way of testing whether art can truly escape the messiness of biology.
The Danger: Blazes Boylan
Just as he reaches the gate, his scientific reverie is shattered. He spots Blazes Boylan—the “hairy chap,” the “luck” of the pub talk, the man heading to Molly’s bed at 4:00 PM.
Bloom’s reaction is a masterpiece of social anxiety:
* The Fingernail Check: He suddenly becomes intensely interested in his own fingernails to avoid making eye contact.
* The “Safe” Haven: He duck-walks into the Museum not just to see the statues, but to hide from the man who is cuckolding him. The museum of “dead” statues becomes a sanctuary from the “living” reality of his wife’s affair.
As Bloom walks down Dawson Street, his mind leaps from the physical sensation of his lunch to the cutting-edge science of his day: Röntgen rays.
The “Röntgen Rays” and the Searchlight
When Bloom thinks, “Then with those Röntgen rays searchlight you could,” he is reflecting on the discovery of X-rays by Wilhelm Conrad Röntgen in 1895.
* The Context: At the time, X-rays were a sensational new technology. Bloom, with his scientific curiosity, imagines a “searchlight” version that could look through people.
* The Intent: He specifically wonders about seeing the “green” (spinach) inside a person’s stomach. This ties back to his obsession with the mechanics of the body—how food is processed and moved through the system.
* The Social Taboo: There was a popular (and slightly paranoid) cultural joke at the time that X-ray glasses would soon allow people to see through others’ clothes. For Bloom, who has just been thinking about “half-naked ladies” and the “curves” of statues, the X-ray represents the ultimate voyeuristic tool for a man of “scientific” interests.
Tom Rochford’s Invention
Bloom’s mention of Rochford’s “invention” refers to a real device. Tom Rochford had designed a mechanical “turn-indicator” for music halls.
* The Device: Before digital screens, these were mechanical frames that would flip cards to show which act was currently on stage or the results of a race.
* The Struggle: Bloom feels a kinship with Rochford. Bloom often has “ideas” for advertisements or inventions that never quite take off. He thinks there should be a “hall or a place where inventors could go in and invent free,” reflecting his belief that the state should support the creative and scientific mind rather than leaving it to “cranks.”
Why the Italian Song? (Don Giovanni)
Bloom hums: “Don Giovanni, a cenar teco / M’invitasti.” This is the moment the Commendatore (a ghost/statue) arrives at dinner to drag Don Giovanni to hell.
* The Connection: Bloom has just left a meal (dinner/lunch) and was recently thinking about statues in the museum.
* The Subtext: Bloom often sees himself as a bit of a “Don Giovanni” (a lover of women), but in reality, he is the opposite—a quiet, cuckolded husband. The music provides a grand, operatic soundtrack to his very ordinary walk down a Dublin street.
No, Nosey Flynn, Davy Byrne, and the others are very much “real” within the world of the novel. They are not figments of Bloom’s imagination.
One of the most brilliant (and sometimes confusing) things about Ulysses is how Joyce weaves internal monologue (Bloom’s private thoughts) together with objective reality (what is actually happening in the room).
How to Tell the Difference:
* The Dialogue (The “Real” World): When you see a dash (—), that indicates spoken word. When Nosey Flynn says, “He’s in the craft,” or Paddy Leonard calls for a “small Jameson,” these are actual conversations taking place in the pub. Bloom is either listening to them or, as he leaves, the “camera” stays behind in the pub to record what the other men say about him.
* The Stream of Consciousness (The “Mind” World): When the text becomes denser and loses standard punctuation—like “food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food”—you are inside Bloom’s head.
* The “Camera” Shift: In this specific scene, Joyce uses a “literary hand-off.” Bloom leaves the pub, but the narrative stays inside for a moment to show us how the world perceives Bloom. This proves Bloom isn’t just imagining these people; they have their own lives, their own “dyspepsia” (like Tom Rochford), and their own prejudices against him.
Key Details from this Passage:
* Tom Rochford’s “Powder”: Rochford is a real Dubliner. He is seen here taking a “white powder” (likely an antacid) for his indigestion.
* The Invention: Bloom wonders if Rochford will “do anything with that invention.” Rochford actually patented a mechanical device for displaying betting odds or music hall turns—Bloom, the fellow tinkerer, respects this.
* The “Stone Ginger”: Bantam Lyons orders a non-alcoholic ginger beer (in a stoneware bottle). Paddy Leonard mocks him for it, but Lyons is “plunging” his money on the horse race and wants to keep a clear head.
* The Ravenous Terrier: As Bloom walks away, he sees a dog eat its own vomit (“sick knuckly cud”). This is a “real” external event that triggers Bloom’s internal thought about “Ruminants” and digestion. It’s a dark mirror to the human “stoking of the engine” he mused on earlier.
* The Italian Song: Bloom hums from Mozart’s Don Giovanni: “A cenar teco m’invitasti” (“You invited me to dine with you”). This is highly symbolic; in the opera, a statue comes to life to dine with a sinner. Bloom has just been thinking about “statues” and “dining.”
In the 1904 Dublin of Ulysses, Freemasonry was a secretive, largely Protestant-dominated network that provided its members with business advantages and social safety nets. By placing Leopold Bloom in “the craft,” Joyce adds another layer to Bloom’s “outsider” status: he is a man of Jewish descent in a Catholic city, belonging to a secret society that many Catholics viewed with deep suspicion.
The “Juggling Fingers” and the Craft
When Nosey Flynn makes “swift passes in the air with juggling fingers,” he is mimicking the secret signs and grips (handshakes) that Masons use to identify one another.
* “Light, Life, and Love”: This is a common Masonic motto. Flynn uses it to prove he “knows” what goes on inside the lodge.
* The Leg Up: In business, Masons were known to favor their “brethren.” Since Bloom is an ad canvasser for the Freeman’s Journal, having a network of “brothers” in various businesses would be a vital professional asset.
Bantam Lyons and the “Gold Cup”
As Bloom exits to the yard, Bantam Lyons enters. This is a crucial moment for the plot. Earlier in the day, Bloom gave Lyons a crumpled newspaper, saying he was just going to “throw it away.”
Lyons, being a betting man, interpreted this as a “hot tip” for a horse named Throwaway running in the Gold Cup race. This misunderstanding will haunt Bloom for the rest of the day, as the “outsider” horse Throwaway actually wins at long odds, and the Dubliners believe Bloom won a fortune and is “too stingy” to buy a round of drinks.
The “Allsop” and “Plovers on Toast”
* Allsop: A real, popular brand of Pale Ale at the time (Samuel Allsopp & Sons). Bloom considers it a “tanner lunch” (sixpence)—the meal of a practical, middle-class man.
* Plovers on Toast: A much more “swank” dish. By mentioning that Molly eats plovers (a game bird), Flynn is implying that the Blooms live a more “nourished” and luxurious life than Leopold’s modest sandwich suggests.
In this passage, we see the Dublin gossip mill in full effect. While Bloom is in the “yard” (the restroom), Nosey Flynn and Davy Byrne dissect his character, touching on his secret societies, his legendary temperance, and his cautious nature.
The Characters & Their Etymologies
1. Nosey Flynn
* The Character: A “minor” fixture of the Dublin landscape, Flynn is a hanger-on and a font of local gossip. His nickname “Nosey” is literal (he has a constant “dewdrop” on his nose) and metaphorical (he is always poking into others’ business).
* Etymology (Flynn): Derived from the Irish surname Ó Floinn.
* Flann: Means “ruddy” or “blood-red.”
* Significance: It’s a common Irish name, but Joyce likely enjoys the irony of a “red/ruddy” name for a man who is constantly snuffling and seems somewhat sickly or gray in the pub light.
2. Davy Byrne
* The Character: A real historical figure. He was the proprietor of Davy Byrne’s Pub on Duke Street (which still exists today). In the book, he is portrayed as a “decent, quiet man”—a “moral pubkeeper” who doesn’t drink his own profits and keeps a respectable house.
* Etymology (Byrne): Derived from the Irish Ó Broin.
* Bran: Means “raven.”
* Significance: The raven is often associated with wisdom or watching, fitting for a barman who stands behind the counter “reading his book” and observing the “birds” (customers) that fly in and out.
The Man Who is Careful with Drinking
The “decent quiet man” they are discussing is, of course, Leopold Bloom. Flynn and Byrne highlight several traits that make Bloom an outsider in 1904 Dublin:
* “The Craft”: Flynn reveals Bloom is a Freemason (“Ancient free and accepted order”). In a heavily Catholic Dublin, being a Mason was seen with suspicion, though Flynn notes it helps him get “a leg up” in business.
* The Watch: Bloom is famous for his self-control. He checks his watch to see “what he ought to imbibe,” treating drinking like a regulated, scientific necessity rather than a wild social escape.
* “Nothing in Black and White”: Bloom is famously cautious. He won’t sign his name to anything risky or incriminating. This “dry pen signature” refers to his refusal to leave a paper trail—a sign of a man who is always calculating the consequences.
* “God Almighty couldn’t make him drunk”: In a culture of heavy drinking, Bloom’s sobriety makes him “safe” but also slightly “other” to men like Flynn.
> The Saint Leger Story: Flynn mentions Elizabeth Aldworth (née St. Leger), a real historical figure known as “The Lady Freemason.” Legend says she was caught eavesdropping on a lodge meeting in Doneraile Court and was initiated to protect their secrets.
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In this meditative moment, Bloom transitions from the “relish of disgust” of his lunch to an appreciation of pure form. As he stares at the bar counter, he moves from the physical wood to the “immortal” curves of Greek statues.
The “Silent Veining of Oaken Slabs”
The phrase refers to the natural grain pattern of the oak wood used to make the bar counter at Davy Byrne’s.
* “Silent Veining”: Bloom is a man of science and observation. He sees the patterns in the wood (the medullary rays and growth rings) as “veins,” much like the veins in a human body or the marble of a statue. It is “silent” because it represents a life (the tree) that is now still, frozen in the furniture.
* The Aesthetic Pivot: This visual observation triggers his philosophy on beauty: “curves are beauty.” He moves from the curves of the wood grain to the “shapely goddesses” (statues of Venus and Juno).
* The Contrast: He contrasts these perfect, “clean” goddesses—who eat nectar and drink “electricity”—with the messy human reality of “stuffing food in one hole and out behind.” To Bloom, the wood grain and the statues represent a world free from the “dung” of human digestion.
Bloom’s Scientific Mind: Food to Blood
Even in his reverie, Bloom cannot help but think of the biological process. He outlines the cycle of life as a mechanical process:
> “food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food”
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* Chyle: (Etymology: Greek chylos, meaning “juice”) This is a milky fluid consisting of lymph and emulsified fats that is formed in the small intestine during digestion. Bloom sees the body as an engine that must be “stoked.”
It is a very “Bloomian” connection to make—finding the Du in both and linking them—but etymologically, they are entirely unrelated. They spring from two completely different linguistic wells: Old Irish and Old French/Occitan.
1. Dublin (The Dark Pool)
The name Dublin comes from the Irish Dubh Linn.
* Dubh: Means “black” or “dark.”
* Linn: Means “pool.”
* The Origin: It refers to a dark tidal pool where the River Poddle met the River Liffey (near where Dublin Castle stands today).
* Linguistic Path: This is Goidelic (Celtic) in origin.
2. Dubedat (The Forbidden Grove)
As we touched on earlier, Dubedat is a Huguenot (French) surname.
* Du: Is simply the French contraction of de le (“of the”).
* Bedat: Comes from the Occitan/Gascon word bedat, meaning a “protected” or “forbidden” place (from the Latin vetatum, meaning “forbidden”).
* Linguistic Path: This is Romance (Latin) in origin.
Why the confusion?
The “Du” in Dublin is a root word (Black), whereas the “Du” in Dubedat is a preposition (Of the).
In the passage you shared, Bloom actually performs a bit of amateur linguistics himself. He notes: “Du de la is French.” He correctly identifies the French origin of the name but then immediately pivots to a pun (“do bedad”), showing that he’s more interested in the sound and social status of the name than its literal history.
If they were related, Dublin would have to mean “Of the Blin,” which, as any Dubliner would tell you, doesn’t quite have the same ring to it!
In Ulysses, Bloom’s mind flashes to Bleibtreustrasse while thinking about “Orangegroves” and “irrigation.” This isn’t just a random German street; it carries significant thematic weight for the novel and has a literal, “loyal” meaning.
1. Literal Meaning
The name is German for “Stay-True Street”:
* Bleib: The imperative form of bleiben, meaning “to stay” or “remain.” (Etymologically linked to the Old High German bilīban, and distantly related to the English word “leave” in the sense of what is “left” over).
* Treu: Meaning “true,” “faithful,” or “loyal.” (Cognate with the English “true” and “trust”).
2. Historical Origin
The street in Berlin was named in 1897 after Georg Bleibtreu (1828–1892), a famous German painter known for his large-scale, meticulously accurate scenes of historical battles (such as the Battle of Königgrätz). He lived in a street parallel to what became Bleibtreustrasse.
3. The Joyce Connection (Why is it in the book?)
Joyce likely included this specific street for two reasons:
* The Advertisement: Scholars believe Joyce saw a “bizarre” newspaper advertisement for the Palestine Industrial Syndicate, which had its offices at Bleibtreustrasse 34 in Berlin. This explains why Bloom’s thoughts jump from “Orangegroves” and “artificial irrigation” (Zionist agricultural projects in Palestine) directly to this German street name.
* The Irony of “Faithfulness”: The name “Stay-True” is deeply ironic in the context of Ulysses. As Bloom walks through Dublin, he is constantly haunted by the knowledge that his wife, Molly, is being unfaithful to him with Blazes Boylan. The mention of a street named “Stay True” serves as a subconscious “sting” regarding his own domestic situation.
While the name Sennheiser doesn’t appear in the 1904 world of Ulysses (the company wasn’t founded until 1945), its etymology is rooted in the same Germanic linguistic traditions that Leopold Bloom ponders when he thinks of names like Bleibtreustrasse.
The German Roots
Sennheiser is a German habitational surname, meaning it originally described where a person lived or what they did for a living. It is a compound of two parts:
* Senn (or Senne):
* This refers to an Alpine dairy farmer or a herdsman.
* In the High German dialects, a Senn was specifically someone who tended cattle on mountain pastures during the summer months.
* Heiser (or Häuser):
* This is a variant of Haus (house), specifically meaning “houses” or “dweller at the houses.”
Combined Meaning
Put together, the name roughly translates to “the houses of the dairy farmers” or “one who lives at the Alpine herdsman’s dwellings.” ### Historical Context
The brand itself was named after its founder, Fritz Sennheiser. In the context of linguistic evolution (similar to how Bloom tracks Du de la for Dubedat), the name reflects the rural, agricultural origins of many German surnames before they became associated with high-end audio engineering.
If Bloom were to hear the name today, he’d likely appreciate the “hissing” sibilance of the word—perfect for a man obsessed with the “vibration” and “physics” of sound.
In this passage, Bloom’s “mild fire of wine” loosens his thoughts into a meditation on the absurdity of human consumption—from the “unsightly” oyster to the “combustible duck” of the aristocracy. He moves from the physical reality of eating to the social performance of it, eventually landing on a pun about a name he remembers: Miss Dubedat.
Etymology of Difficult & Notable Terms
1. Dubedat (and the Huguenot Connection)
* Etymology: Derived from the French du bec d’apt or du bedat. In Gascon dialect, bedat refers to a “forbidden” or “protected” grove/pasture (from the Latin vetatum).
* The Huguenots: These were French Protestants (Calvinists) who fled religious persecution in France during the 16th and 17th centuries. Many settled in Ireland (especially Dublin), bringing skills in weaving, banking, and silversmithing.
* Joyce’s Wordplay: Bloom breaks it down as “Du de la is French” and then makes a quintessentially “Bloomian” pun: “May I tempt you… miss Dubedat? Yes, do bedad.” (Bedad being an Irish mild oath/exclamation, a corruption of “By Dad” or “By God”).
2. Johnny Magories
* Etymology: A Dublin slang term for rose hips, the fruit of the wild briar rose.
* Context: Bloom is thinking about “poisonous berries” and things “off trees.” The term likely comes from the Irish magaidhe, or perhaps a corrupted nursery rhyme name.
3. Bleibtreustrasse
* Etymology: German for “Stay-True Street” (bleib = stay, treu = true/faithful).
* Context: This is a real street in Berlin. Bloom’s mind leaps here because he is thinking of “Orangegroves” and “irrigation,” possibly connecting it to the Zionist movement or agricultural colonies discussed earlier in the book (or a specific memory of his father’s travels).
4. Ptarmigan
* Etymology: From the Scottish Gaelic tarmachan.
* The “P”: The silent “P” was added in the 18th century by scholars who mistakenly thought the word was Greek (like pteron, meaning “wing”).
* Context: Bloom mocks the pretension of the elite: “Do ptake some ptarmigan,” emphasizing the silent, fancy letter.
5. Kish of Brogues
* Etymology: Kish is from the Irish ceis, a large wicker basket used for carrying turf or pigs. A brogue (from bróg) is a heavy shoe.
* Meaning: To be “ignorant as a kish of brogues” is a Hiberno-English idiom meaning someone is incredibly stupid or uncouth—literally, as dumb as a basket full of old shoes.
The etymology of Zinfandel is actually one of the great mysteries of the wine world—much like the “mystery grape” itself. While DNA testing in 2002 finally proved that the grape is identical to the Croatian Tribidrag and the Italian Primitivo, the name “Zinfandel” is a linguistic accident.
1. The “Zierfandler” Corruption
The most widely accepted theory is that the name is a corruption of Zierfandler, a white wine grape from Austria.
* The Mix-up: In the early 19th century, the Austrian Imperial Nursery in Vienna held a massive collection of vines. When cuttings were shipped to the United States (around 1829), it is believed the Croatian red grape was accidentally mislabeled with the name of the Austrian white grape.
* Linguistic Evolution: Over time, the German/Austrian Zierfandler was butchered by American nurserymen into various spellings: Zinfendal, Zinfindal, and finally Zinfandel.
2. The Czech Connection
Some linguists point to the Czech word Cinifadl (pronounced Tzi-ni-fadel), which was a synonym for the Zierfandler grape in Bohemia. This version is phonetically much closer to the modern “Zinfandel” than the original German.
3. Contrast with Other Names
To see how much of an outlier “Zinfandel” is, look at the grape’s other names which actually describe its nature:
* Primitivo (Italy): From the Latin primativus, meaning “first to ripen.”
* **Tribidrag (Croatia): Derived from Greek, also essentially meaning “early ripening.”
* **Crljenak Kaštelanski (Croatia): Literally means “the red [grape] of Kaštela.”
> Fun Fact: Because the name Zinfandel has no meaning in any European language and only appears in American records starting in the 1830s, it is considered a truly American name for a European immigrant.
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In this continuation of the Lestrygonians episode, Joyce uses the character of Nosey Flynn to ground Bloom’s internal abstractions in the gritty, gossiping reality of Dublin. Bloom, meanwhile, remains a detached observer, oscillating between “relish and disgust” as he consumes his meal.
Key Moments of the Scene:
* The Contrast of Blazes Boylan: The mention of “Blazes” (Boylan) by Flynn is a sharp needle for Bloom. Boylan is the man Bloom knows is having an affair with his wife, Molly. Flynn calls him a “hairy chap,” implying vitality and luck—qualities Bloom feels he is currently lacking.
* The “Feety” Savour: Bloom’s description of the cheese sandwich as having a “feety savour” is classic Joyce. It captures the complex, sensory reality of fermentation and decay that fascinates Bloom throughout the novel.
* The “Dewdrop”: Bloom’s fixation on the mucus on Nosey Flynn’s nose (the “dewdrop”) serves as a visceral reminder of the physical grossness of humanity, juxtaposed against the “nice piece of wood” and the “fresh clean bread.”
* The Gold Cup: The talk of horse racing (Sceptre, Zinfandel, Saint Amant) sets the stage for a major plot point later in the day involving a misunderstanding about a “throwaway” tip.
Dancing light of grace 