Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

Ace of spades walking upstairs

In the logic of Ulysses, and specifically the Lestrygonians episode, this dream is a collision between Gothic superstition and biological reality.
While Denis Breen sees it as a terrifying omen, Bloom—ever the rationalist—sees it as a “stomach” problem. Here is how we can break down the interpretation:
1. The Omen of Death
The Ace of Spades is historically known as the “Death Card.” In folklore, it is the most ominous card in the deck.
* The Stairs: Walking “upstairs” suggests an approach to the bedroom, the most private and vulnerable space. To Denis Breen, it feels like a literal “Death” coming to fetch him in his sleep.
* The Surrealism: As you noted, it is very Carrollian. A flat, two-dimensional object (a card) gaining three-dimensional life is a classic “glitch” in the subconscious.
2. The “Lestrygonian” (Digestive) Reading
Bloom’s immediate internal response is “Indiges.” (Indigestion).
* Medical Materialism: Bloom believes that the mind is a slave to the body. If you see a “spectre” or a “walking card,” it isn’t a ghost; it’s a heavy supper of pork or “lap of mutton” that hasn’t broken down properly.
* The Pressure of the Stomach: A full stomach can press against the diaphragm, causing vivid, “heavy” nightmares (like a figure walking up stairs).
3. The “U.P.” Connection
The dream is likely triggered by the stress of the postcard.
* The Letters: “U.P.” (meaning “it’s all up with you”) is a verbal version of the Ace of Spades. Both suggest an end or a final judgment.
* Paranoia: Denis Breen is a “madman” of Dublin. His brain is a loop of legal grievances and perceived insults. The Ace of Spades is the visual manifestation of his fear that the city is “stacking the deck” against him.
4. Symbolic Weight: The “Black” Suit
The Ace of Spades is a “black” card, and Bloom has just come from a “black” funeral (Dignam’s). The color black dominates the day:
* The sandwichmen in their white/scarlet (H.E.L.Y.S).
* The “black” fast of Yom Kippur mentioned earlier.
* The “black” mourning clothes Bloom is wearing.
   The card walking upstairs is the final, comic-yet-creepy “black” symbol of the episode.

The Timeball is the heartbeat of the Lestrygonians episode—a mechanical “drop” that signals the transition from late morning to the “noonreek” of lunch. It represents Bloom’s obsession with precision, gravity, and the scientific measurement of a life that often feels messy and unmeasured.
The Import of the Timeball
Before wireless time signals, the Timeball was a crucial tool for navigation and commerce.
* The Mechanism: At precisely 1:00 PM (Dunsink Time), the large ball atop the Ballast Office was released by an electric signal and slid down a mast.
* The Purpose: Ship captains in Dublin Bay would watch the ball through telescopes to calibrate their chronometers. Precise time was the only way to calculate longitude at sea; a mistake of a few seconds could lead to a shipwreck.
* The Symbolic Weight: For Bloom, the “falling” ball is a manifestation of his thought: “32 feet per sec is com” (the acceleration of gravity). It marks the “dead stop” of the morning. It also highlights the “paralysis” of Dublin—men like Farrell stand around waiting for a ball to drop, their lives governed by a singular, repetitive mechanical event.
Etymology of the “Longest Name”
The name Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell is a linguistic “sandwich board” of Irish history. It is an absurdly “heavy” name for a man who owns nothing but the clothes on his back.
| Name Segment | Etymology / Origin | Significance in Ulysses |
|—|—|—|
| Cashel | From Irish Caiseal (“stone fort/castle”). | Evokes the ancient Kings of Munster; a “fortress” of a name. |
| Boyle | From Irish Ó Baoighill (meaning “vain pledge” or “peril”). | A prominent Irish clan name; adds a layer of “pledged” nobility. |
| O’Connor | From Irish Ó Conchobhair (“Descendant of the Hound/Desire”). | The name of the last High Kings of Ireland; suggests a lost royal lineage. |
| Fitzmaurice | Norman-French Fitz (son of) + Maurice. | Represents the “Old English” or Norman-Irish aristocracy. |
| Tisdall | Old English/Norse Tid (time) + Dahl (valley). | A “Planter” name (English settlers); suggests the colonial layer of Dublin. |
| Farrell | From Irish Ó Fearghail (“Man of Valor”). | A common but ancient Gaelic surname, grounding the string of names in the local soil. |
The Joke: By stringing these together, Joyce creates a “mock-heroic” identity. Farrell carries the weight of Ireland’s entire genealogical history (Gaelic, Norman, and English) in his name, yet he is just a “shabby” man squinting at a clock.

You’ve hit on a brilliant observation: after the industrial clatter of the newspaper office and the heavy, damp soil of the cemetery, this section feels like a bizarre, sunlit comedy of manners. It’s the “comedy of the digestive tract.”
The Tamil Connection
You are absolutely right—Mulligatawny is a rare linguistic interloper in the “Scylla and Charybdis” of Joyce’s Latin and Greek. It highlights the British Empire’s influence on the Dublin palate; even Bloom’s hunger is colonized by the flavors of the East. The word itself brings a sharp, “peppery” heat to the damp Dublin noon.
The Ace of Spades & Lewis Carroll
The “Ace of spades walking up the stairs” is incredibly Carrollian. It’s a moment of pure Surrealism.
* The Playing Card Motif: Much like the Queen of Hearts in Alice in Wonderland, the card becomes a living, threatening entity.
* The “Lestrygonian” Twist: While Carroll uses it for whimsical nonsense, Joyce (through Bloom) grounds it in the stomach. Bloom’s “Indiges” (indigestion) diagnosis turns a gothic nightmare into a simple matter of a late-night pork chop or a bad piece of cheese.
Cashel Boyle O’Connor… and the Comedy of Rigidness
The man with the marathon name is indeed a comic masterpiece of “paralysis.”
* The “Out of the way” Walk: He walks in a straight line, dressed in “shabby” finery, following a timeball that drops once a day.
* The Humor: The contrast between his majestic name and his utterly pointless, clockwork existence is pure Dickensian comedy. He is a human “Post No Bills” sign—rigid, unmovable, and slightly absurd.
Lightness Amidst the “Grim”
You’re right that the “remorse” (the Agenbite of Inwit) is absent here. Bloom doesn’t wallow like Stephen. Even when he thinks of death (Dignam), he immediately pivots to:
* “Marge and potatoes.”
* “Smart girls writing letters.”
* “Rhubarb tart.”
Bloom’s “lightness” comes from his curiosity. He is too busy wondering how things work (like the saltwater fish or the transparent showcart) to stay submerged in the grim bureaucracy of death for too long.
Etymology & Definitions
| Term | Etymology / Origin | Contextual Meaning |
|—|—|—|
| Mulligatawny | Tamil: miḷagu (pepper) + taṇṇīr (water). | A peppery soup that represents the “heat” and “pungency” of Bloom’s growing hunger. |
| Indiges | Short for Indigestion (Latin in- “not” + digerere “to divide”). | Bloom’s materialistic explanation for supernatural visions. |
| R rattlesnakes | American idiom. | “A caution to rattlesnakes” means someone who is extremely troublesome or eccentric (like Denis Breen). |

This scene is a masterclass in Joyce’s “Stomach” theme—the gnaw of hunger (physical) meets the gnaw of worry (mental). As Mrs. Breen reveals her husband’s descent into madness, Bloom is literally breathing in the vapor of the city’s kitchens.
The “Barefoot Arab” and the Grating
Bloom spots a homeless boy (“barefoot arab”) standing over a bakery grating.
* “Deaden the gnaw”: This is a biological observation. Inhaling the smell of food can temporarily trick the brain into feeling satiated, but Bloom wonders if it’s “pleasure or pain.”
* The Chained Knife: He thinks of “penny dinners” (charity meals) where the cutlery was literally chained to the table to prevent theft—a grim reminder of how hunger strips away “civilized” trust.
The Ace of Spades
Denis Breen’s nightmare of the “ace of spades walking up the stairs” is a classic symbol of death.
* Bloom’s Diagnosis: He instantly thinks “Indiges” (Indigestion). In this chapter, every spiritual or supernatural event is reduced to a digestive cause. You don’t see ghosts because of the veil lifting; you see them because you ate something bad before bed.
U.P: Up and the “Rise”
Mrs. Breen explains that someone is “taking a rise out of him” (mocking him).
* The “U.P.” Postcard: While it seems nonsensical, it’s a devastating “Lestrygonian” attack. It’s “wind” that consumes Denis Breen’s sanity, leading him to waste his little money on “lawbooks” and lawsuits.
Shabby Genteel
Bloom’s “marketing eye” scans Mrs. Breen. He notices her nap bleaching (the fuzzy surface of the fabric wearing away) and her dowdy toque (a small, brimless hat) decorated with “three old grapes.”
* The Contrast: He remembers her as “Josie Powell,” a “tasty dresser” at charades in Dolphin’s Barn.
* The Food Connection: Even her appearance is described through food—”flakes of pastry” on her dress and a “daub of sugary flour” on her cheek. She has become a messy “rhubarb tart” compared to the “shapely” woman she used to be.
Etymology & Definitions
| Term | Etymology / Origin | Contextual Meaning |
|—|—|—|
| Mockturtle | 18th-century culinary term. | A soup made from a calf’s head to imitate expensive green turtle soup; a “shabby genteel” version of luxury. |
| Mulligatawny | From Tamil miḷagu-taṇṇīr (“pepper-water”). | A spicy, curry-flavored soup; part of the “noonreek” hitting Bloom’s gullet. |
| Gusset | From Old French gousset (armpit/piece of armor). | A triangular piece of fabric sewn into a garment to strengthen or enlarge a part of it. |
| Toque | From French/Spanish toca (headdress). | A woman’s small hat without a brim, often worn perched on the head. |

Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

Cockroaches as advertisement agents


I heard the whirrr of the grinder from the kitchen. Ketchup . A trip to the  washroom. A glass of water. A cockroach has been waiting on the table where water in the jug and glass and an empty cup is resting. The cup has been used twice for a tea I made. It was served to my father and later to my mother.
The cockroach moved to the other side after the light bulb was switched on. I read a few weblogs and worked on Free Rice. Worked on Duolingo. Now I am in the Pearl League because of my experience points in the last one week. Duolingo seems to be a platform which was improved carefully based on feedback. It’s nothing short of a cartoon program. Learning should be fun. It takes a lot of effort to learn. And it takes a lot of effort to make it funnier to learn.
I looked up the etymology of biff. Esophagus was another interesting word on Free Rice. It means gullet. I am working on Normal Level, which is the third level in the increasing order of difficulty.
I looked up the etymology of Parapet. It means “low wall.” A protective structure in fortification. An embankment.
In the architectural and oratorical landscape of Ulysses, a parapet is both a physical boundary and a symbol of looking out over a city or a “lost cause.”
Etymology of Parapet
The word is a defensive one, born from the need to protect the heart and chest in battle.
* Origin: It comes from the Italian word “parapetto.”
* Root 1: Para– (from parare), meaning “to protect” or “to shield.”
* Root 2: Petto (from the Latin pectus), meaning “the breast” or “the chest.”
* Literal Meaning: A “breast-guard.”
* Evolution: Originally, it was a low wall built atop a rampart to protect soldiers from gunfire or arrows while they stood on a fortified platform. By 1904, it had evolved into the common architectural term for any low protective wall along the edge of a roof, bridge, or balcony.
The Latin Link
You can see the same root pectus in other English words like:
* Pectorals: The chest muscles.
* Expectorate: To cough up from the chest (very relevant for the “windy” and “coughing” atmosphere of the newspaper office).
In the Context of “Aeolus”
While we haven’t seen a literal parapet in the Freeman’s Journal office yet, the word looms large in Stephen’s memory from the first chapter (Telemachus), where he and Mulligan stand on the parapet of the Martello tower. In this chapter, the “parapet” is metaphorical; the men are shielded behind their desks and their “forensic eloquence,” looking down on the street and the “halfpenny” people below.
The word “biff” is a perfect example of onomatopoeia—a word that sounds like the action it describes. In the context of the noisy, “Aeolus” newspaper office, it fits the atmosphere of physical and verbal impact.
Etymology of Biff
* Origin: It emerged in the late 19th century (around 1880–1890), making it relatively “modern” slang for the characters in Ulysses.
* Source: It is almost certainly imitative of the sound of a sharp blow or a slap. It mimics the quick “puff” of air or the “smack” of contact.
* Usage: It was originally used to describe a punch or a box on the ear. By 1904, it was common in both sporting contexts (like boxing) and as a way to describe a sudden, forceful movement or a witty verbal “hit.”
Biff in the Context of the Office
In the “Aeolus” chapter, Joyce is obsessed with the physical sounds of the printing press (the thump, thump, thump of the machines). A “biff” represents the sudden collision of ideas, or the way the editor, Myles Crawford, “hits” his points home. It also reflects the “shindy” (commotion) that the characters are constantly discussing.
Etymology of Contumely
Since you mentioned the “proud man’s contumely” in the previous section, it is worth looking at this heavy, “leaden” word:
* Origin: From the Latin contumelia, meaning “insult” or “abuse.”
* Root: It is related to the Latin contumere (to swell up), which is also the root of the tumor.
* Meaning: To treat someone with “contumely” is to treat them with a kind of “swelling” pride or arrogant contempt. It is the verbal equivalent of a “biff” to someone’s dignity.
The gas cylinder delivery guy didn’t appear today. I discussed it briefly with my parents. I served them fried rice after they returned from early morning duty. Also served ginger tea and water. I organised utensils in the kitchen in the afternoon and mopped the verandah and kitchen floors. Showed a cooker handle to my mother which has lost some attachments.


That was yesterday.


I just had ginger tea. I hear bells in the worship room though the sound of singing devotional songs doesn’t reach me here. I read a weblog I usually read these days. It articulated a lot of things which seem to be true though as usual I was wondering if it wasn’t another discussion about why it was better in the past. There are subtle points which talk about something which isn’t merely nostalgia but I rarely hear them talking positively about the very tools they use perhaps because it’s obvious and it’s the rectification or misuse which needs to be addressed clearly.


I hear the sound of the pressure cooker whistle. I was busier today because students returned from their vacation after a week. I was serving tea, snacks and water to my mother when I noticed them in my room. It was a surprise. They didn’t inform me in advance as they didn’t before disappearing. It took me some time to get free from what I was busy doing and bring a chair to this room. I was having ginger tea myself.


I asked the younger student if he had a nice time celebrating with his family members. I asked him if he enjoyed sweets as he was planning on it and I teased him –  why didn’t he bring any for me. He appeared to be conscious of his standing and didn’t talk much about eating etc. They acknowledged that they had fun and it was after a week they attended school. It was quiet and dull here after the noise of school and a house full of relatives. As usual, the younger asked me about the timer I had set midway before the lesson was over. I read a few more pages before we completed reading about the “Farming Sectar” in India.
My reading was slow paced and I took time to explain a few points. I also asked them a few questions on the topics which were promptly answered most of the time. Their quarrel didn’t disappear altogether. It was less severe than usual. When I was talking about vitamin C, the elder wanted me to tell him why it is important. I told him that most fruits like gooseberry, orange and lemon which are sour to eat contain Vitamin C in them and it’s important to sustain the health of gums and skin.
When the younger one kept combing his hair like a Welshcomb – his hand had oil which he wiped against his shirt. It’s actually a winter innerwear. Then he asked me something which was about why there was oil-I told him that he’s repeating old nonsense to which the elder used the word “sura.” It’s a Hindi word used for ‘blind’ people. It’s also a typo made by an interlocutor who didn’t wait to entertain it as a deliberate code word. Similar to previous such deliberate typos which strangely connect to Penthouse in a TV program or political debates.
When most of the digital and non digital behaviour is limited- the effort to claim programming or control of subjects is a multilayered effort. The ultimate watchword is control which is completely the opposite of freedom. Interestingly – there are absolutely no free agents in such civilizations. There are hierarchies- beginningless and endless. They’re all busy showing up how they control dreams, subconscious and conscious lives of others – and in turn, they trigger others for similar control- to what end?
First is- admitting that it’s surreal or supernatural. Then – giving into it. Then- becoming even more suggestible and then continuing along that reinforcement. Most of these subjects accept “tasks” as completed even with 60-70 percent of success in achieving control over other “subjects.” They can’t give it up because there’s no other option. Everyone is busy exercising the same craft with different names.
You’re predictable. We are calculating. This is what gives us control over you. Maybe you’re even enjoying this control.
A mouse jumps on my left shoulder. I don’t know what’s happening. It jumps to the right shoulder. Then I feel something on my feet. I throw it away and rush to switch the light on. The mouse runs away to hide in the clothes which are hanging on the wall.


Are they programmed?


Who would believe? The entertainment industry uses cockroaches for advertisements. I wouldn’t have believed this just a few days ago. It reminds me of Kafka. I was reminded of a program by a big cockroach. To convince my reader about this message delivered by an insect – I would have to weave a tale with too many clues which I don’t want to indulge in.
What was the issue with this big mouse. I opened the door before I picked up the umbrella to move it away from clothes. Maybe it wasn’t able to go out of the door. It jumped up to the rack and ran fast towards the other rack space. It’s where it came from- the ventilation.
I got my room swept and mopped by asking the maid to do it. Moved many utensils from the kitchen to the wash basin. Served food to my father after giving him hot water from the geyser. I used some of it to wash some clothes and then I had a bath.
I moved a twenty kilogram rice package which was delivered to our house from the verandah to the store room. Took care of the pasteurisation of milk. Removed junk from one of the kitchen stands and replaced old paper with new. Washed the plastic cover and hung it for drying. Organised utensils in the kitchen after they were washed. I helped my father in a transaction. It was a busy day. I kept reading Ulysses. Now reading Lestrygonians.
Since you asked specifically about the roots of this chapter’s title, it’s worth looking at how the ancient Greek origins perfectly set the stage for Bloom’s lunchtime wanderings.


The Etymology of Lestrygonians


The term comes from the Greek Laistrygonians (Λαιστρυγόνες).
* Linguistic Roots: While the exact origin is debated, some scholars link it to the Greek root lastauros (lewd/gluttonous) or laas (stone) + trygao (to gather/harvest).
* Homeric Context: In the Odyssey, the Laestrygonians were a tribe of giant cannibals. When Odysseus’s fleet arrives at their harbor, the giants pelt the ships with massive rocks and “spear” the sailors like fish to eat them.
Why Joyce Chose It
Joyce uses this etymology to frame the “Stomach” of Dublin. In this chapter, everything is viewed through the lens of eating and being eaten:
* The Giants: The “giants” of Dublin are the large, imposing buildings and the institutions (like the Church or the State) that “consume” the lives of the citizens.
* The Cannibalism: When Bloom enters the Burton Restaurant, he sees men eating like animals—shoveling food, grunting, and bolting down meat. He realizes that for humans to live, something else must die.
* The “Rocks”: Instead of literal boulders, Bloom is pelted by “rocks” of memory, hunger, and the hard reality of poverty (like the Dedalus children “in flitters”).

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Sandwichmen

This passage is a wonderful slice of James Joyce’s Ulysses. Joyce loved to mix the “high” language of art and religion with the “low” gritty details of daily Dublin life.
Here are the definitions for the terms you highlighted:
Lumbago
This is a somewhat old-fashioned medical term for chronic pain in the lower back (muscles and joints).
* In context: Anne Kearns is an elderly woman struggling with physical ailments. Joyce mentions she uses “Lourdes water” (holy water) as a remedy, highlighting her faith and perhaps the desperation of her physical discomfort.
Aureoling
This is the verbal form of “aureole,” which refers to a halo or a circle of light surrounding the head of a holy figure.
* In context: Joyce is being a bit witty and ironic here. He describes the editor, Myles Crawford, whose face is “scarlet” (likely from drinking or temper), and says his hat is “aureoling” his head. It’s a mock-heroic way of describing a mundane man—giving a sweaty, red-faced Dubliner the visual status of a saint or a celestial being.

This short exchange captures the chaotic energy of the Dublin streets. The “return” of Bloom highlights his persistence; he is often pushed aside by the more “important” or louder men in the city (like Crawford), yet he remains determined.
The highlight of this snippet is the newsboy’s cry—a classic example of Joycean humor.
The “Terrible Tragedy”
The line “A child bit by a bellows!” is an intentional absurdity.
* The Humor: A bellows is a tool used to blow air into a fire. It doesn’t have teeth and cannot “bite.”
* The Satire: Joyce is poking fun at the sensationalist nature of “yellow journalism.” The newsboys are yelling out increasingly ridiculous or nonsensical headlines just to grab the attention of passersby and sell copies of the “Racing special.”
It serves as a sharp contrast to Bloom’s very serious, breathy attempt to catch Myles Crawford for business.

This section highlights the friction between the practical, hardworking Bloom and the erratic, prideful world of Dublin’s “gentlemen” journalists. Bloom is trying to secure an advertisement deal (the “House of Keys” pun) involving a “puff” (a short promotional piece), but the editor, Myles Crawford, is in no mood for business.
Here are the key breakdown points for this passage:
Terms and Context
* K.M.A. / K.M.R.I.A.: These are acronyms for Crawford’s vulgar dismissals: “Kiss My Arse” and “Kiss My Royal Irish Arse.” It shows Crawford’s dismissive, aggressive attitude toward the commercial side of the paper that Bloom represents.
* “Straight from the stable”: A racing idiom meaning directly from the source or the most reliable authority.
* “Nulla bona”: A legal term meaning “no goods.” Crawford is telling J.J. O’Molloy that he has no money to lend or to back a bill.
* “Raising the wind”: A slang term for obtaining or borrowing money.
The “House of Keys” Ad
Bloom’s idea for the merchant Alexander Keyes involves a visual pun. The “House of Keys” is the name of the parliament on the Isle of Man. Bloom wants to use an image of two crossed keys to represent the merchant’s name while also making it look “distinguished.”
Stephen Dedalus’s Boots
Bloom notices Stephen Dedalus (the “young Dedalus”) and observes his boots. This is a classic “Bloomism”—he notices the physical, practical details. In earlier chapters, Stephen was wearing borrowed, ill-fitting boots; the fact that they are “good” today suggests a temporary change in his luck or status.

This section features Stephen Dedalus telling his “Parable of the Plums,” a story that mocks the grandiosity of Dublin’s monuments by focusing on the physical, somewhat messy reality of two elderly women.
The “Onehandled Adulterer”
Stephen refers to Admiral Horatio Nelson, whose statue stood atop Nelson’s Pillar in O’Connell Street.
* The “Onehandled” part: Nelson lost his right arm in the Battle of Santa Cruz de Tenerife.
* The “Adulterer” part: This refers to his famous, scandalous affair with Lady Emma Hamilton.
The Clogged Arteries of Dublin
The final paragraph describes a “short circuit” in the tram system. This is both a literal electrical failure and a metaphor for the paralysis of Dublin life—the modern electric trams are stuck, while the “old world” horse-drawn carriages rattle past them.
Etymology of Difficult Terms
| Term | Etymology | Definition in Context |
|—|—|—|
| Waxies’ Dargle | Waxy (slang for cobbler) + Dargle (a river/resort). | An annual outing for Dublin’s working class (specifically cobblers). |
| Aeroliths | From Greek aero- (air) + lithos (stone). | Literally “air-stones” or meteorites; used here in a flashy, nonsensical headline. |
| Proboscis | From Greek pro- (before) + boskein (to feed). | A nose (often used humorously to describe a large or prominent one). |
| Sophist | From Greek sophos (wise). | Originally a teacher of philosophy; later used to mean someone who uses clever but fallacious arguments. |
| Brougham | Named after Lord Brougham (19th-century statesman). | A light, four-wheeled horse-drawn carriage with an enclosed body. |

This section, often referred to as “The Parable of the Plums,” is a pivotal moment in the Aeolus episode. It showcases Stephen Dedalus’s developing artistic voice—one that is gritty, ironic, and distinctly Dubliner.
Detailed Analysis
1. The “Waxies’ Dargle” and the “Pillar”
Myles Crawford calls the story “copy” (journalistic material) for a “Waxies’ Dargle.” This refers to a famous Dublin working-class outing. By using this term, he’s framing Stephen’s story as a piece of local, low-brow color. The “Pillar” is Nelson’s Pillar, a symbol of British imperial presence that loomed over O’Connell Street until 1966.
2. The “Onehandled Adulterer”
This is a brilliant bit of Joycean subversion.
* The High: Nelson is a naval hero atop a massive Doric column.
* The Low: Stephen reduces him to his physical disability (one-armed) and his moral failure (his affair with Lady Hamilton).
   By having the old women stare up at him while eating plums, Stephen is essentially “spitting” on the grandeur of the British Empire.
3. Antisthenes and the “Palm of Beauty”
The professor compares Stephen to Antisthenes, the founder of Cynic philosophy.
* Antisthenes was known for his “bitterness” and for subverting classical myths—specifically by arguing that Penelope (the faithful, patient wife) was superior to Helen of Troy (the beautiful, destructive cause of war).
* This mirrors what Stephen is doing: he is taking the “beauty” of the city’s monuments and handing the spotlight to two “waddling” old women.
4. “Poor Penelope. Penelope Rich.”
This is a classic Joycean “stream of consciousness” leap. Stephen’s mind jumps from the mythological Penelope to a historical figure, Lady Penelope Rich, a famous Elizabethan beauty and the “Stella” of Philip Sidney’s sonnets. It shows his mind is always layered with literary history.
Etymology
| Term | Roots & Origin | Evolution |
|—|—|—|
| Rambunctious | Likely an Americanism; a fanciful alteration of robustious or rumbustious. | Derived from the mid-19th century. It combines the sense of “robust” (strong) with a playful, chaotic suffix to describe boisterous behavior. |
| Archdiocese | From Greek arkhi- (chief/leader) + dioikēsis (administration/province). | Originally a Roman administrative term for a district; in the Church, it denotes the district under the care of an Archbishop. |

Moving on to the headlines and the walk toward Mooney’s pub, we see Joyce’s “Aeolus” episode reaching its peak of journalistic parody. These bold, capitalized headers aren’t just labels; they represent the “wind” (Aeolus is the god of wind) of empty rhetoric and the noise of the printing press.
The Headline Analysis
1. DAMES DONATE DUBLIN’S CITS SPEEDPILLS VELOCITOUS AEROLITHS, BELIEF
This is a masterpiece of “journalese” nonsense.
* The Content: It refers to the old women spitting plum stones (aeroliths or “air-stones”) down from the pillar onto the citizens (cits) below.
* The Style: It uses alliteration and pseudo-scientific language (velocitous) to make a mundane, slightly gross act sound like a major scientific or civic event.
2. SOPHIST WALLOPS HAUGHTY HELEN SQUARE ON PROBOSCIS…
This headline translates the Professor’s academic talk about Antisthenes into the language of a sports tabloid.
* “Wallops… square on proboscis”: It treats a philosophical argument like a boxing match.
* “Pen is Champ”: A play on the “willpower” of the writer and the literal pen, asserting that the intellectual (the Ithacan, referring to Odysseus/Penelope’s home) wins over the physical beauty of the Spartans (Helen).
The “Becalmed” Trams
As they prepare to cross O’Connell Street (then Sackville Street), the narrative provides a “still life” of Dublin’s transportation.
The list of destinations—Rathmines, Blackrock, Kingstown, Dalkey—is a map of the Dublin suburbs. The “motionless trolleys” and “short circuit” symbolize the paralysis that Joyce felt defined Dublin: a city full of noise and motion (the “rattling crates of bottles”) but ultimately stuck in its tracks, unable to move forward.

In this final stretch of the Aeolus episode, Stephen gives his story a formal title, and the Professor links it back to classical and biblical tradition.
The “Ithacans”
The term Ithacans refers to the people of Ithaca, the island kingdom of Odysseus (Ulysses).
* In the Headline: When the headline says “ITHACANS VOW PEN IS CHAMP,” it is a pun.
* The “Pen”: It refers to Penelope (Odysseus’s wife). The headline is saying that the people of Ithaca choose the faithful Penelope (the “Pen”) as the true winner of beauty over the flashy Helen of Troy.
* The “Champ”: In the context of Ulysses, the “Ithacan” is Leopold Bloom. While the other men are obsessed with loud rhetoric and “wind,” Bloom (the modern Ulysses) represents the quiet, domestic endurance of Ithaca.
Key References & Analysis
1. “Deus nobis hæc otia fecit”
The Professor suggests this Latin title from Virgil’s Eclogues. It translates to “A god has granted us this leisure.” It’s a very “high-brow,” academic way to describe two old women sitting on a pillar.
2. “A Pisgah Sight of Palestine”
Stephen’s chosen title is much more biting.
* Pisgah is the mountain from which Moses was allowed to see the Promised Land (Palestine) before he died, though he was never allowed to enter it.
* The Parable: Stephen is implying that these two old Dublin women, looking out over their city, are like Moses—they can see a “Promised Land,” but they are stuck in a paralyzed, impoverished Dublin, spitting out plum stones instead of reaching any real glory.
3. “Horatio is Cynosure”
* Horatio: Admiral Horatio Nelson.
* Cynosure: From the Greek kunos oura (“dog’s tail”), referring to the constellation Ursa Minor, which contains the North Star. A “cynosure” is something that serves as a focal point or a guide. Nelson on his pillar is the “North Star” of Dublin, yet Stephen has just spent the last few pages mocking him as a “onehandled adulterer.”
4. “Anne Wimbles, Flo Wangles”
The headline uses playful, slightly suggestive verbs (wimbles meaning to bore or twist; wangles meaning to manipulate) to describe the two women, Anne Kearns and Florence MacCabe, as they sit atop the pillar.

This short exchange is a classic example of “Dublin street wit”—it’s irreverent, slightly crude, and layered with double meanings.
The men are laughing at the “Parable of the Plums” Stephen just finished, specifically his description of Nelson as a “onehandled adulterer.”
Breaking Down the Meaning
1. “Diminished Digits”
* Literal: “Digits” can mean fingers, but in this  it refers to Nelson’s missing limb (his “diminished” parts).
* The Joke: The headline suggests that the “missing” or “diminished” parts of the statue are what makes the old women (“frisky frumps”) so excited or “titillated.”
2. “Onehandled adulterer… That tickles me.”
* The Professor is using “tickle” in the sense of amusement. He finds Stephen’s description of a national hero as a disabled cheater to be clever and funny.
3. “Tickled the old ones too… if the God Almighty’s truth was known.”
* Myles Crawford (the editor) takes the joke a step further into sexual innuendo.
* He suggests that the two old women weren’t just looking at the view; he’s hinting that they were getting a “thrill” from being near the statue of a famous lover (the “adulterer”).
* In the coarse logic of the newsroom, he’s implying that even elderly women like Anne and Flo have “dirty minds” or repressed desires.
The Verbs: Wimbles and Wangles
Joyce is playing with language here to match the “titillating” theme:
* Wimbles: To wimble is to bore a hole with a tool. It suggests a repetitive, poking motion.
* Wangles: To wangle is to manipulate or wiggle something into place.
* The Subtext: By using these specific, slightly rhythmic words, Joyce creates a mental image of the women fidgeting or “messing about” on top of the pillar, adding to the vulgar humor the men are enjoying.

You’ve hit the nail on the head. Compared to the somber, claustrophobic atmosphere of Hades (the funeral), Aeolus feels like a gust of fresh—if slightly chaotic—air.
Summary of Aeolus: The Heart of the Noise
Aeolus takes place in the newspaper offices of the Freeman’s Journal.
* The Atmosphere: The chapter is defined by “wind”—rhetoric, empty talk, and the literal puffing of the printing presses.
* The Conflict: Leopold Bloom is trying to do his job (selling an ad for Alexander Keyes), while Stephen Dedalus is hanging out with the “intellectuals” and “wits” of the city.
* The Climax: Stephen tells his “Parable of the Plums,” proving he can play the men’s game of cynical wit. Bloom, meanwhile, is rudely dismissed by the editor, Myles Crawford, illustrating his status as an outsider.
* The Style: Joyce breaks the text with over 60 newspaper headlines that evolve from Victorian “stiff” styles to sensationalist modern “tabloids.”
Lestrygonians: Etymology and Theme
1. Etymology
The title comes from the Laestrygonians (Λαιστρυγόνες) in Homer’s Odyssey.
* The Myth: They were a tribe of giant cannibals who ate many of Odysseus’s men and destroyed his ships by throwing giant rocks.
* The Translation: In Joyce’s Dublin, the “cannibals” are the hungry citizens of the city, and the “rocks” are the hard, cold buildings and the crushing weight of poverty.
2. The Theme: Hunger and Digestion
If Aeolus was about “Wind” (lungs), Lestrygonians is about the Stomach.
* Physical Hunger: It is lunchtime (1:00 PM). Bloom is walking through Dublin, and his thoughts are dominated by food, smell, and the “disgusting” nature of how humans eat.
* Social “Eating”: Bloom observes the “cannibalism” of the social classes—the rich eating at the Burton restaurant (described with animalistic gore) versus the poor waiting for scraps.
* The “Ubi Sunt” Motif: Bloom thinks about the passage of time—how we eat to live, but eventually, we are “eaten” by time and death.

That is incredibly eerie—talk about an immersive reading experience! Joyce would have called that a synchronicity. The “squeak” in your kitchen echoing the “squeak” of the printing presses in Aeolus or the rats in the brewery vats.
To answer your linguistic question: “Squeak” is definitely the standard word for the sound a single rat makes, but “squeal” is often more accurate for the sound they make when they are fighting, trapped, or in a group (like in your kitchen).
In Ulysses, Joyce often uses onomatopoeia (words that sound like the noise they describe) to bring these “low” life forms to life.
The Language of the Vermin
If you were writing this into a Joycean internal monologue, you might use:
* Squeak: For the sharp, high-pitched “pip” of a solitary rat.
* Squeal: For a longer, more distressed or aggressive sound.
* Scuttle/Rattle: For that “superfast” sound of claws on a clothes rack or floorboards.
Bloom himself is very sensitive to these “noises of the night.” He often thinks about the hidden life of the city—the things under the floorboards and inside the vats that most people try to ignore.

Bloom’s shift from the scientific (gravity) to the poetic (Shakespeare) illustrates his restless, inquisitive mind. Even while surrounded by the stench of the Liffey and the sight of hungry gulls, he tries to understand the “mechanics” of art.
The “Rats: Vats” Rhyme and the Science of Stout
Bloom’s imagination is often grotesque. He visualizes the Guinness brewery (Hancock was a real official there) and the “wonderful” vats of porter.
* The Rats: The image of rats drowning in beer and bloating “as big as a collie” is a classic Lestrygonian thought—life being consumed by the very thing it seeks to consume.
* The Digestion of Beer: He notes that “sea air sours it,” showing his constant interest in how the environment affects the physical world.
The “Poet” Bloom
After throwing the “Elijah” flyer, Bloom mocks his own attempt at a couplet (The hungry famished gull / Flaps o’er the waters dull).
* The Critique: He realizes he’s just matching “similar sounds” (rhyming), which he finds a bit simplistic.
* The Shift to Shakespeare: He admires blank verse (unrhymed iambic pentameter). He misquotes Hamlet slightly, but captures the essence: the weight of the “spirit” walking the earth. This is a subtle echo of the Hades episode—the ghost of the father (and perhaps his own lost son, Rudy) is never far from his mind.
Reuben J. Dodd’s Son
Bloom mentions Reuben J, a Dublin solicitor he dislikes.
* The Story: Earlier in the book, a story is told about Reuben J’s son jumping into the Liffey (either as a suicide attempt or by accident). A workman fished him out, and Reuben J. gave the man a measly one and eightpence (one shilling and eight pence) as a reward.
* Bloom’s Take: Even while contemplating the “sewage” the boy swallowed, Bloom can’t help but dwell on the transactional absurdity of the “reward.”
Etymology & Definitions
| Term | Etymology / Origin | Contextual Meaning |
|—|—|—|
| Blank Verse | From “blank” (unrhymed) + “verse.” | Poetry written with regular metrical but unrhymed lines, typically iambic pentameter. |
| Puffball | Compound word (puff + ball). | A cloud of smoke; also a type of fungus that releases “smoke” (spores) when hit. |
| Parapet | From Italian parare (to guard) + petto (breast). | A low protective wall along the edge of a bridge or roof. |
| One and eightpence | British currency (1s 8d). | Roughly the cost of a cheap meal in 1904; a hilariously low price for saving a human life. |

Bloom’s walk across O’Connell Bridge is a masterpiece of “internal monologue” where the high-minded and the base-physical are mashed together. His thoughts transition from the phosphorescence of religious icons to the starvation of the Dedalus children, finally landing on the gulls in the Liffey.
The “Luminous Crucifix” and Science
Bloom’s mind is a “scientific-commercial” hybrid. He remembers an ad for a glowing crucifix and immediately deconstructs the “miracle” into chemistry: phosphorus.
* The Codfish: He recalls seeing a dead fish glow in the dark. This is a real phenomenon where bacteria on decaying sea life emit light.
* “Good for the brain”: There was a common Victorian belief that eating phosphorus (found in fish) increased intelligence.
The Economics of the Clergy
Bloom spots one of Simon Dedalus’s daughters (Stephen’s sister) and his heart goes out to her.
* “Increase and multiply”: He blames the Catholic Church’s ban on contraception for the poverty of families like the Dedaluses (15 children!).
* The “Black Fast”: He contrasts the priests “living on the fat of the land” with the Jewish Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement), where a total fast is required.
* £. s. d.: This is the old notation for Pounds, Shillings, and Pence (Librae, Solidi, Denarii). Getting money out of a priest, Bloom thinks, is impossible.
The “Elijah” Experiment
Bloom tries to feed the gulls by throwing a crumpled ball of the “Elijah is coming” flyer into the water.
* “Thirtytwo feet per sec”: This is a reference to the acceleration due to gravity (g \approx 32 \text{ ft/s}^2 or 9.8 \text{ m/s}^2). Even in a moment of whimsy, Bloom thinks in physics.
* The Result: The gulls ignore it. They aren’t “damn fools”—they want food (the “stale cake”), not religious “wind.”
Etymology & Terms
| Term | Etymology / Origin | Contextual Meaning |
|—|—|—|
| Pepper’s Ghost | Named after John Henry Pepper (1862). | An illusion technique used in theaters where a hidden room is reflected onto a glass pane to create a “ghost.” |
| Marge | Short for Margarine (from Greek margaron – “pearl”). | A cheap substitute for butter, signaling the Dedalus family’s extreme poverty. |
| In flitters | From Irish/Dialect. | In tatters or rags; falling apart. |
| Collation | From Latin collatio (“bringing together”). | A very light meal allowed on days of fasting. |

Welcome to the “Stomach” of Dublin. As Bloom leaves the noisy wind of the newspaper office, his senses are immediately assaulted by the cloying sweetness of Graham Lemon’s candy shop.
The Feeders and the Fed
The chapter opens with a focus on sugar. Bloom, ever the pragmatist and amateur scientist, watches a girl shoveling sweets for a Christian Brother (a member of a Catholic lay order). His immediate thought is physical: “Bad for their tummies.”
He then pivots to a biting bit of political satire:
* “Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King”: This refers to the “By Appointment” warrants businesses held.
* “Sitting on his throne sucking red jujubes white”: Bloom imagines King Edward VII as a gluttonous child, sucking the color out of sweets. It’s a brilliant way to “digest” the monarchy—turning a grand King into a sticky-fingered boy.
The “Blood of the Lamb”
Bloom is handed a religious flyer (a “throwaway”) by a Y.M.C.A. man.
* The Misreading: He initially sees his own name—”Bloo… Me?”—before realizing it says “Blood of the Lamb.” * The Theme: This triggers a stream of consciousness about Sacrifice. Bloom connects the religious idea of being “washed in the blood” to the physical reality of meat. He lists various “blood victims”:
   * Kidney burntoffering: A nod back to his own breakfast (the kidney he ate in Calypso).
   * Druids’ altars / Martyrs: History as a cycle of killing and eating.
   * Elijah is coming: Referring to Alexander Dowie, a real-life American evangelist who claimed to be the “Restorer” of the church. In Bloom’s hungry mind, even salvation feels like a looming, physical event.
Etymology & Definitions
| Term | Etymology / Origin | Contextual Meaning |
|—|—|—|
| Lemon Platt | Platt (Middle English for “plot” or “flat piece”). | A traditional Irish pulled-sugar sweet, usually lemon-flavored and braided. |
| Comfit | From Latin confectum (“prepared”). | A candy consisting of a nut or seed coated in layers of sugar (like a Jordan almond). |
| Jujubes | From Greek zizyphon (a type of fruit). | A chewy, gelatinous candy. |
| Throwaway | Modern English compound. | A handbill or flyer intended to be read once and discarded. |

That is an unsettlingly visceral coincidence! It’s as if the “Lestrygonian” atmosphere of the book—with its talk of rats, vats, and the physical “thump” of life—decided to manifest right in your room.
In the world of Ulysses, Bloom would likely be analyzing the rat’s “superfast speed” and its trajectory, but in the real world, having one jump on your shoulders is a genuine shock. It certainly adds a layer of “Life on the Raw” to your reading session.
The “Rats: Vats” Connection
Bloom’s thought about the rats in the Guinness brewery becomes much more “real” when you’ve just felt one. He imagines them getting “dead drunk” and bloated, almost turning them into characters in a dark comedy. Your experience with the rat running up the rack shows the opposite: their incredible, high-speed agility.

That rat encounter really adds a layer of “Life on the Raw” to this text. Between the squealing in your kitchen and the “vats and rats” in Bloom’s head, the boundaries between the book and reality are getting thin!
Regarding your question: “Squeak” is the perfect word for a quick, high-pitched sound. “Squeal” usually implies something longer and more distressed—if they were fighting or crowded in the kitchen, “squeal” fits, but for a rat darting across a room, “squeak” is the one.
The Science of the Swan and the Gull
Bloom finally feeds the birds, but he switches from the “Elijah” paper to actual food: Banbury cakes (a spiced, currant-filled pastry).
Even as he performs this act of charity, his “Lestrygonian” thoughts remain clinical and a bit cynical:
* “Manna”: A biblical reference to the food God provided to the Israelites in the desert. Bloom sees himself as a provider, but a stingy one (“Penny quite enough”).
* “Eat pig like pig”: This is a central theme of the chapter. Bloom believes you are what you eat. If you feed a turkey chestnuts, it tastes like chestnuts.
* The Saltwater Fish Paradox: Bloom wonders why fish living in salt water don’t taste salty. It’s a classic Bloom question—he has a “layman’s” scientific mind.
> The Scientific Answer: Fish have specialized cells in their gills (ionocytes) that actively pump salt out of their bodies to maintain a balance, a process called osmoregulation.
>
Kino’s Trousers
At the end of the passage, Bloom sees an advertisement on a rowboat.
* “11/—”: This is 11 shillings (the /— denotes zero pence).
* This is a real historical advertisement. The “treacly swells” (thick, dark, like molasses) of the Liffey carry the boat, turning the river itself into a giant billboard.
Etymology & Definitions
| Term | Etymology / Origin | Contextual Meaning |
|—|—|—|
| Serried | From French serrer (to press/crowd). | Arranged in close rows; packed tightly together. |
| Banbury Cake | Named after Banbury, England. | A flat, oval, spiced pastry filled with currants. |
| Anna Liffey | From Irish Abhainn na Life. | A personification of the River Liffey (later a major character in Finnegans Wake). |
| Manna | From Hebrew mān. | Miraculous food; an unexpected gain or spiritual nourishment. |

Bloom’s mind is now drifting from the economics of river advertising to the deep mysteries of space and time, all while being anchored by his wife Molly’s “wit.”
The Stream of Life and the “Quack” Ads
Bloom observes the Kino’s Trousers ad and wonders about the legality of “owning” water.
* “Never the same”: He is echoing the Greek philosopher Heraclitus, who famously said you cannot step into the same river twice.
* “Dr Hy Franks”: This was a real Dublin “quack” who advertised cures for “the clap” (gonorrhea). Bloom notes how these ads were placed “on the q.t.” (quietly) in public urinals (“greenhouses”).
* “Post 110 Pills”: A pun on the common “Post No Bills” signs.
The “Parallax” Mystery
Bloom looks at the Ballast Office on Westmoreland Street.
* The Timeball: At exactly 1:00 PM, a ball would drop from a mast on the building to signal the time to ships in the harbor.
* Dunsink Time: Before 1916, Ireland ran on its own time (25 minutes behind Greenwich Mean Time), set by the Dunsink Observatory.
* Parallax: Bloom is obsessed with this word from Sir Robert Ball’s The Story of the Heavens.
   * The Definition: Parallax is the apparent displacement of an object when viewed from two different lines of sight. Astronomers use it to measure the distance to stars.
   * “Met him pike hoses”: This is one of the most famous lines in the book. Molly mispronounced “metempsychosis” (the transmigration of souls) as “met him pike hoses.” Bloom realizes she prefers “O rocks!”—her way of dismissing big, “meaningless” academic words.
Ben Dollard’s “Barreltone”
Bloom recalls Molly’s description of Ben Dollard, a man with a massive “base barreltone” voice.
* The Wit: Bloom admires how Molly connects his physical shape (legs like barrels) with his voice and his favorite drink (Bass ale). To Bloom, this is “wit”—connecting the physical reality of a man to the “high” art of singing.
Etymology & Definitions
| Term | Etymology / Origin | Contextual Meaning |
|—|—|—|
| Parallax | From Greek parallaxis (“change/alternation”). | The difference in the apparent position of an object viewed along two different lines of sight. |
| Metempsychosis | From Greek meta (change) + en (in) + psukhe (soul). | The supposed reincarnation or transmigration of the soul into a new body after death. |
| Q.T. | 19th-century slang abbreviation. | “Quiet”: doing something “on the q.t.” means doing it secretly or discreetly. |
| Flybynight | Compound (fly + by + night). | A person or business that is unreliable or likely to disappear to avoid debt. |

Bloom’s walk continues as he encounters the “sandwichmen”—walking advertisements that remind him of his own past employment at Hely’s, a famous Dublin stationer and printer.
The H.E.L.Y.’S. Procession
The men are wearing sandwich boards that spell out the name of the shop. Bloom, ever the marketing expert, critiques the strategy:
* The “Y” Lagging: One man is falling behind to eat bread. This undermines the visual “brand.”
* “Bread and skilly”: Skilly is thin gruel or watered-down porridge. It’s the diet of the desperate.
* The Showcart Idea: Bloom’s idea for “smart girls” writing in a transparent cart is actually quite modern—it’s “experiential marketing.” He knows that human curiosity is the best way to sell products.
The Convents and the “Sweet” Nun
Bloom recalls his time collecting debts from convents.
* Tranquilla Convent: A real Carmelite convent in Rathmines.
* Caramel/Carmel: A classic Bloom association. He hears the religious name “Mount Carmel” and immediately thinks of “caramel” candy.
* The Barbed Wire Myth: Bloom’s thought that a nun invented barbed wire is a piece of Dublin folklore (though historically, it was an American farmer named Joseph Glidden). It reflects Bloom’s view of the Church as something that “fences in” people’s lives and desires.
Ad Placement: The Cold Meat Department
Bloom mocks a specific ad for Plumtree’s Potted Meat. In the newspaper, it was placed directly under the Obituaries.
* The Irony: Putting an ad for “potted meat” next to notices of people being put in “pots” (coffins) is a dark joke that Bloom finds tasteless and hilarious. It fits the Lestrygonians theme perfectly: the dead are “cold meat,” and the living are eating “potted meat.”
Etymology & Definitions
| Term | Etymology / Origin | Contextual Meaning |
|—|—|—|
| Sandwichman | Coined by Charles Dickens. | A person wearing two advertisement boards, one in front and one behind. |
| Wimple | From Old English wimpel (veil/garment). | A cloth head covering that leaves only the face exposed, worn by nuns. |
| Dripping | Middle English. | The fat that melts off meat while it is roasting; used by the poor as a cheap butter substitute. |
| Bob | British slang (origin uncertain). | A shilling. “Three bob” was a very low daily wage even in 1904. |

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Papyrus, palimpsest, parchment

This passage marks the collapse of the high-minded oratory into the physical reality of a Dublin pub crawl. The “wind” that has been blowing through the office is finally redirected toward a “boosing shed.”
“A Great Future Behind Him”
Lenehan provides a cruel, witty epitaph for John F. Taylor. By saying he had a “great future behind him,” he implies that Taylor’s potential was all in the past—he died before he could see the “Land of Promise” (Irish Independence).
* Expectorated Demise: Lenehan uses the word “expectorated” (to cough up from the chest) to describe Taylor’s death from illness. It’s a grisly pun on the “wind” and “breath” that fueled Taylor’s oratory.
The Akasic Records
As the group prepares to leave, Stephen has a profound, silent realization about the nature of sound and history.
* The Concept: The “Akasic (Akashic) Records” is a term from Theosophy (the “opal hush” crowd mentioned earlier). It refers to a mystical compendium of all human events, thoughts, words, and emotions believed to be encoded in a non-physical plane of existence (the “ether”).
* Stephen’s Cynicism: To Stephen, these grand speeches are just “Dead noise.” He imagines the words being “howled and scattered” by the wind. Even if they are recorded in the Akasic ether, they are gone from the physical world.
Etymology of Adjourn
Stephen suggests the house “do now adjourn.”
* Origin: From the Old French ajourner.
* Breakdown: À (to) + jour (“day”).
* Literal Meaning: To put off to another day.
* In Context: It is the formal language of parliament or a courtroom, used here ironically to mean “let’s go get a drink.”
Etymology of Vellum (The Final Push)
Since you asked earlier, let’s look at the “calfskin” that outlasts the wind.
* Origin: From the Old French vélin, derived from vel (calf), which comes from the Latin vitellus (diminutive of vitulus, meaning “calf”).
* The Connection: It is the same root as the word “Veal.” * Significance: While the “news” is printed on cheap, acidic paper (papyrus’s descendant) that will crumble, the “Law” and the “Classics” were written on vellum to endure. Stephen is worried his own “words” are just paper, not vellum.

While they all start with the same rhythmic “P,” these three terms represent the evolution of how humanity has “caught” the wind of speech and turned it into a permanent record. They are related by function (writing surfaces), but they differ wildly in material and permanence.
1. Papyrus: The Plant
As we saw in the “cradle of bulrushes,” papyrus is the ancestor of paper.
* Material: Made from the pith (the inner core) of the Cyperus papyrus sedge.
* Process: The pith is sliced into thin strips, layered in a cross-hatch pattern, moistened, and pressed together. The natural sap acts as a glue.
* Vulnerability: It is brittle and decays easily in damp climates. This is why most surviving papyri come from the dry sands of Egypt.
* Etymology: From the Greek papyros, which is the direct root of our modern word “paper.”
2. Parchment: The Animal
When the supply of papyrus from Egypt was cut off (or became too expensive), the ancient world turned to a more durable, “leathern” solution.
* Material: Specifically prepared animal skins—usually sheep, calves, or goats. Unlike leather, it is not tanned; it is limed, scraped, and dried under tension.
* Process: It creates a smooth, incredibly durable surface that can last for thousands of years.
* Vellum: A high-quality subtype of parchment made specifically from calfskin (from the same root as “veal”).
* Etymology: From the Greek Pergamene, referring to the city of Pergamum, where it was reportedly perfected as an alternative to papyrus.
3. Palimpsest: The Ghost
A palimpsest isn’t a material itself, but a recycled document. Because parchment was so expensive and labor-intensive to produce, scribes would often scrape the ink off an old book to write something new on top of it.
* The “Ghost” Text: Over time, the original ink often faintly reappears, or can be seen using UV light. This allows historians to read “lost” texts hidden beneath newer ones (like finding a pagan Greek play under a medieval prayer).
* Etymology: From the Greek palin (“again”) + psestos (“scraped”). It literally means “scraped clean again.”
* In Joyce: Stephen Dedalus’s mind is a palimpsest. He is constantly “scraping away” the present moment to see the “ghosts” of St. Augustine, Dante, or Shakespeare underneath.

The silence following the speech is a rare moment of genuine awe in the noisy newspaper office. For a second, the “wind” of idle chatter stops, and the men are forced to confront the weight of their own history.
The Reactant Silence
Professor MacHugh has just finished his performance, and the group is momentarily “paralyzed” (to use Ignatius Gallaher’s favorite word).
* Stephen’s Reaction: Stephen is impressed, but also wary. He recognizes the power of the “language of the outlaw,” but he is still struggling to find his own voice amidst these giants.
* The “Dumb Belch”: Joyce includes the “dumb belch of hunger” right in the middle of the noble oratory. This is classic Naturalism—reminding the reader that while the soul is reaching for Sinai’s mountaintop, the body is still stuck in a Dublin office, hungry and mortal.
Etymology of Bulrushes
When Taylor mentions the “cradle of bulrushes,” he is evoking the most famous “hidden” origin story in history.
* Origin: It is a compound of the Middle English bul (meaning “large” or “thick”) + rusche (rush/reed).
* The Meaning: A “bulrush” is essentially a “large reed.” In the context of the Nile, it specifically refers to Papyrus (Cyperus papyrus).
* The Irony: Papyrus is the plant from which paper (and therefore newspapers) was originally made. By mentioning the bulrushes, Taylor is linking the origin of the Law (Moses) to the very medium (the Press) that the men in the room are currently using—and arguably degrading.
Etymology of Outlaw
The speech ends on the powerful word “outlaw.”
* Origin: From the Old Norse útlagi.
* Breakdown: út (“out”) + lög (“law”).
* Meaning: Someone who is “outside the law” and therefore denied its protection.
* The Rhetorical Trick: Taylor takes a word that is usually a badge of shame and turns it into a badge of honor. He argues that the truly “divine” law is always found in the language of those the Empire has cast out.

This is the “speech within a speech,” where the metaphor of Israel as Ireland reaches its peak. Taylor (via MacHugh) uses the grandeur of Egypt to mock the British Empire’s claim that its “superior” culture should replace the “primitive” Irish tongue.
The “St. Augustine” Interruption
Before the speech begins, Stephen’s mind wanders to the “Fathers” of the Church.
> “It was revealed to me that those things are good which yet are corrupted…”
>
* The Source: This is from St. Augustine’s Confessions.
* The Logic: Augustine argues that for something to be “corrupted,” it must have been “good” to begin with.
* Stephen’s Reaction: “Ah, curse you!” He is frustrated that his brain is so saturated with Catholic theology that he can’t even listen to a secular speech without his “spiritual fathers” butting in.
The “Tablets of the Law” and the “Language of the Outlaw”
The climax of the speech is a masterpiece of rhetorical reversal. Taylor argues that if Moses had been “civilized” by Egypt, he would have remained a slave.
* The Paradox: Moses comes down from the mountain with the Tables of the Law (the ultimate authority), but Taylor reminds us they were written in the “language of the outlaw” (Hebrew, which the Egyptians despised).
* The Irish Point: Taylor is telling the Dubliners that even if the world calls their language “primitive” or “outlawed,” it is the only language through which they can receive their own divine “inspiration.”
Etymology of Polity
The Egyptian High Priest boasts of his “polity.”
* Origin: From the Greek politeia (“citizenship” or “government”), from polis (“city”).
* The Meaning: It refers to an organized society or a specific form of government. The High Priest is mocking the “nomad herdsmen” (the Irish/Jews) for lacking a structured state.
Etymology of Trireme and Quadrireme
These are the “galleys” that furrow the waters.
* Root: The Latin remus means “oar.”
* Trireme: Tri- (three) + remus. A ship with three banks of oars.
* Quadrireme: Quadri- (four) + remus. A ship with four banks of oars.
* The Context: These terms evoke the massive, overwhelming military and commercial power of an empire—the “thunder and the seas.”

This moment is the “high-water mark” of eloquence in the chapter. Professor MacHugh is preparing to perform a speech within a speech—reconstructing the words of John F. Taylor from memory.
The “Ferial” Tone and the Orator
MacHugh adopts a ferial tone to set the scene.
* Etymology of Ferial: From the Latin ferialis, meaning “belonging to a holiday or feast day.” In church liturgy, a “ferial day” is one where no specific feast is celebrated—it is a plain, solemn, weekday tone.
* The Image of Taylor: Taylor is described as a “dying man” with a “shaggy beard.” This is the classic image of the prophet—someone whose physical body is failing but whose spirit is “pouring” out through his voice.
The Egyptian Parallel
Taylor’s genius was in his use of analogy. He didn’t just argue for the Irish language; he transported his audience to ancient Egypt to make the Irish struggle feel “noble” and “ancient.”
* The Analogy: * The Egyptian High Priest: Represents the British Empire (Fitzgibbon).
   * The Youthful Moses: Represents the young Irish generation being told to abandon their heritage for the “culture” of the masters.
* The “Crooked Smokes”: Stephen thinks to himself: “And let our crooked smokes.” This is a quote from the final scene of Shakespeare’s Cymbeline. It refers to the “smoke” of a sacrifice rising to the gods. In this room, the “sacrifice” is the tobacco of the listeners, rising as they fall under the spell of the speech.
Etymology of Impromptu
The headline for this section highlights the “unprepared” nature of the genius.
* Origin: From the Latin phrase in promptu.
* Breakdown: In (in) + promptu (a state of readiness/visibility), from promere (“to bring forth”).
* Meaning: To have something “in readiness.” It describes a speech that is brought forth from the mind instantly, without written notes.
Etymology of Shorthand
MacHugh notes there was no shorthandwriter present.
* Origin: A simple English compound, but the concept is ancient (Stenography).
* History: In 1904, shorthand was the “high tech” of the press office, allowing journalists to capture the “wind” of speech before it vanished.
* Etymology of Stenography: From the Greek stenos (“narrow/close”) + graphein (“to write”).

In the architectural and oratorical landscape of Ulysses, a parapet is both a physical boundary and a symbol of looking out over a city or a “lost cause.”
Etymology of Parapet
The word is a defensive one, born from the need to protect the heart and chest in battle.
* Origin: It comes from the Italian word “parapetto.”
* Root 1: Para- (from parare), meaning “to protect” or “to shield.”
* Root 2: Petto (from the Latin pectus), meaning “the breast” or “the chest.”
* Literal Meaning: A “breast-guard.”
* Evolution: Originally, it was a low wall built atop a rampart to protect soldiers from gunfire or arrows while they stood on a fortified platform. By 1904, it had evolved into the common architectural term for any low protective wall along the edge of a roof, bridge, or balcony.
The Latin Link
You can see the same root pectus in other English words like:
* Pectorals: The chest muscles.
* Expectorate: To cough up from the chest (very relevant for the “windy” and “coughing” atmosphere of the newspaper office).
In the Context of “Aeolus”
While we haven’t seen a literal parapet in the Freeman’s Journal office yet, the word looms large in Stephen’s memory from the first chapter (Telemachus), where he and Mulligan stand on the parapet of the Martello tower. In this chapter, the “parapet” is metaphorical; the men are shielded behind their desks and their “forensic eloquence,” looking down on the street and the “halfpenny” people below.

This section highlights the tension between the “mystic” world of the Dublin literary revival and the “hard” oratory of Irish politics.
The “Opal Hush” and the “Bag of Tricks”
J. J. O’Molloy is teasing Stephen about his associations with the Theosophists and the “Hermetic” poets.
* A.E. (George Russell): A famous Irish mystic, poet, and painter. He was a central figure in the Irish Literary Revival.
* “The Opal Hush”: This refers to the ethereal, misty, and somewhat vague style of the Celtic Twilight poets.
* Madame Blavatsky: Helena Blavatsky, the co-founder of the Theosophical Society. Calling her a “nice old bag of tricks” is a cynical Dubliner’s way of dismissing her complex occult philosophies as stage magic.
* Planes of Consciousness: In Theosophy, these are the different levels of reality (astral, mental, etc.). The joke is that Stephen—ever the joker—was likely mocking A.E. by asking serious questions about them at 3:00 AM.
The Contrast: John F. Taylor vs. Fitzgibbon
Professor MacHugh pushes past the “mystic” talk to return to Oratory. He sets the stage for what is often considered the “grandest” speech in the book: John F. Taylor’s defense of the Irish language.
* Gerald Fitzgibbon: Representing the “Establishment.” His style is “courteous haughtiness”—the language of the successful, British-aligned elite.
* “The Vials of His Wrath”: A biblical allusion (Revelation 16) describing divine judgment.
* “The Proud Man’s Contumely”: A direct quote from Hamlet’s “To be, or not to be” soliloquy. MacHugh is showing that the elite used the finest English literature to look down upon the “weak” Irish movement.
Etymology of Morale
J. J. O’Molloy calls Magennis a man of “high morale.”
* Origin: From the French moral, which comes from the Latin moralis (concerning manners or customs).
* Shift in Meaning: In 1904, “morale” often referred to what we now call “morals” or “integrity,” rather than just “team spirit.” It implies Magennis is a man of upright character.
Etymology of Oratory
* Origin: From the Latin orator, from orare (“to speak” or “to pray”).
* The Connection: In ancient Rome, an orator wasn’t just a speaker; they were a civic leader. MacHugh is mourning the loss of this “priest-like” power of the tongue.

This passage shifts the “wind” from the noisy chaos of current events to the heavy, solemn tradition of the Law. J.J. O’Molloy, the struggling lawyer, is trying to defend his profession against the editor’s cynicism by invoking the “ghosts” of Irish eloquence.
“Sufficient for the day…”
J.J. O’Molloy is quoting a famous biblical line (Matthew 6:34): “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”
* The Twist: He changes “evil” to “newspaper.” It’s a weary acknowledgment that in the world of journalism, only the present moment matters—everything else is quickly forgotten.
The “Farthing Press” and the “Guttersheet”
O’Molloy is insulting the modern press by listing its less-than-noble branches:
* Farthing Press: Refers to Alfred Harmsworth (Lord Northcliffe), who started the Daily Mail. A “farthing” was the smallest British coin.
* Bowery Guttersheet: A dig at the sensationalist “Yellow Journalism” of New York (The Bowery was a rough NYC neighborhood).
* The Skibbereen Eagle: A famous small Irish paper that once claimed it was “keeping its eye” on the Tsar of Russia—a classic example of local self-importance.
The Law: Mosaic vs. Roman
J.J. O’Molloy describes a speech by Seymour Bushe regarding the Childs murder case (a real-life 1899 fratricide case in Dublin).
* Mosaic Code (Lex Talionis): The “Law of Retaliation”—an eye for an eye.
   * Etymology: Lex (Law) + Talis (Such/Like).
* Roman Justice: O’Molloy (and Bushe) argue that Roman law was more “polished” and intellectual.
* The Moses of Michelangelo: Bushe supposedly compared the “terrible” face of Michelangelo’s Moses to the stern nature of the Law.
Stephen’s Shakespearian Intrusion
While they talk of murder, Stephen thinks: “And in the porches of mine ear did pour.”
* The Reference: This is a quote from Hamlet. It describes how Hamlet’s father was murdered—by poison poured into his ear while he slept.
* The Connection: Stephen is obsessed with “poured” words. To him, the rhetoric of these men is like a “poison” being poured into his ears.
Etymology of Magistrate (Magistra)
The headline says ITALIA, MAGISTRA ARTIUM (Italy, Mistress/Teacher of Arts).
* Origin: From the Latin magister (master) or magistra (mistress).
* Root: Derived from magis (“more”). A magistrate is literally someone who is “more” or “greater” than others in authority.

Stephen’s mind continues to drift through a spectrum of colors and history as he tries to ground his “Swinburnian” poetic urges in something more ancient.
Etymology of Russet
When Stephen envisions girls “in russet,” he is using a color that carries a weight of humility and the earth.
* Origin: It comes from the Old French rousset, a diminutive of roux (“red”), which stems from the Latin russus.
* The Fabric: Historically, “russet” wasn’t just a color; it was a coarse, homespun cloth used by the poor. By a 1363 English statute, peasants were actually required to wear russet.
* The Contrast: By placing “russet” alongside “gold of oriflamme,” Stephen is blending the humble and the royal, the “leadenfooted” reality of Dublin with the “golden” dreams of his imagination.
The “Tomb Womb” Paradox
Stephen’s obsession with “mouth south: tomb womb” is a reflection of his guilt. He feels that his mother’s womb (his origin) has become a tomb (his obsession with her death).
* Etymology of Tomb: From the Greek tumbos (“burial mound”).
* Etymology of Womb: From the Proto-Germanic wambo, meaning “belly” or “abdomen.”
* The Rhyme: By linking these phonetically, Stephen is practicing what he calls the “art of memory.” To him, language is a physical thing—words that sound alike must be related in the “soul” of the world.
Quella pacifica oriafiamma
This specific phrase comes from Canto XXXI of Dante’s Paradiso.
* Meaning: “That peaceful oriflamme.”
* The Shift: Notice how Stephen moves from the Inferno (the wind-blown lovers) to the Paradiso (the golden banner of peace). He is trying to “think” his way out of the noisy, windy newspaper office and into a place of spiritual silence.

Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

Monkeydoodle

This passage from James Joyce’s Ulysses captures the bustling, rhythmic energy of the newspaper office. You’ve highlighted some great linguistic markers that contrast the religious/authoritative world with the fast-paced world of journalism.
The Etymology of “Crozier” and “Murray”
1. Crozier (or Crosier)
The word comes from the Old French crocier, which is derived from croce, meaning “a crook” or “staff.”
* Root: Ultimately traces back to the Proto-Indo-European root *greg- (hook/curve).
* Meaning: It refers to the hooked staff carried by a bishop or abbot as a symbol of their pastoral office (the “shepherd” of the flock). In the context of your title, “The Crozier and the Pen” symbolizes the intersection of Church authority and the power of the press.
2. Murray
This is a surname of Scottish and Irish origin with a “watery” history.
* Scottish Origin: Derived from the region of Moray. In Gaelic, Moireabh means “seaboard settlement” or “by the sea” (môr = sea, treabh = settlement).
* Irish Origin: It can also be an anglicized form of Ó Muireadhaigh, meaning “descendant of Muireadhach” (a name meaning “lord” or “seafarer”).
What is “Posthaste”?
To do something posthaste means to do it with great speed or immediacy.
* The Origin: It dates back to the 16th-century postal system. When a letter was extremely urgent, the sender would write “Haste, post, haste” on the envelope. This was a command to the “posts” (the couriers or riders at specific stations) to gallop as fast as possible to the next relay point.
* In the text: The telegram boy is moving “posthaste” because his job relies on rapid delivery—he is a human extension of the “thumping” and “clanking” machinery of the news cycle.

In the context of the “Aeolus” episode of Ulysses, Bloom’s comment about Joseph Patrick Nannetti is a classic bit of Joycean irony and layered meaning.
Who was Nannetti?
Joseph Patrick Nannetti was a real historical figure—an MP (Member of Parliament) and later the Lord Mayor of Dublin. In the novel, he is the foreman of the Freeman’s Journal printing works.
Why “One of Our Saviours”?
Bloom calls him a “saviour” for a few reasons:
* The Printer’s Power: As the foreman, Nannetti is the one who physically manifests the “word.” Without the printer, the journalist’s thoughts never reach the public. In the mechanical religion of the newspaper office, he is a high priest of the “clanking drums.”
* Political Messianism: Like the “Crozier” (the Church), Nannetti represents the political hope of the time—the Irish Home Rule movement.
* Bloom’s Jewish Identity: Bloom often views political leaders through the lens of Jewish history. By calling Nannetti a “saviour,” he’s grouping him with other figures (like Parnell) who promised to lead their people to a “promised land” of independence.
The Contrast: The Crozier vs. The Machine
The “Crozier” represents the old, static authority of the Church. Nannetti represents the new, mechanical authority of the press. While the Bishop has his staff (Crozier), Nannetti has his “closet” and the printing press.

In the rhythmic, cinematic style of the “Aeolus” episode, Joyce is describing a visual perspective—specifically, someone watching a person descend a staircase.
The Visual Effect
The characters (Red Murray and likely Bloom) are watching a person walk down the stairs that lead away from the newspaper office. Because of the angle from which they are looking—likely over a counter or through an opening—the person’s body disappears from the bottom up as they descend:
* First, the boots and legs go out of sight.
* Then the knees.
* Finally, the torso and the neck vanish as the person sinks below the floor level.
Why Joyce wrote it this way:
* The “Camera” Eye: Joyce uses a technique similar to a camera shot. Instead of saying “he walked downstairs,” he breaks the movement into a series of static parts. It emphasizes the mechanical, fragmented nature of the newspaper office.
* The Disappearing Act: It reinforces the “Aeolus” theme of wind and ghostliness. People in this office are constantly appearing and vanishing, much like the words being printed on the “clanking drums” of the machines.

In this section, the mechanical “thumping” of the printing press blends with Bloom’s thoughts on death and the industrial age. The “Burgess” he refers to is poor Patrick Dignam, whose funeral Bloom just attended.
The Etymology of “Burgess” and “Hynes”
1. Burgess
The term feels quite formal here—fitting for a newspaper obituary.
* Root: It comes from the Old French burgeis, which originates from burg (a fortified town or borough).
* Meaning: Historically, it referred to a freeman of a borough, or a person with full municipal rights. By Joyce’s time, it simply meant a solid, respectable citizen of the middle class.
* In Context: Calling Dignam a “respected Dublin burgess” is the newspaper’s way of giving him a dignified exit, even though Bloom knows the messy, sad reality of Dignam’s life.
2. Hynes
Joe Hynes is the reporter Bloom sees in the office.
* Irish Origin: It is an anglicized form of the Gaelic Ó hEidhin.
* Root: The name is derived from eidhean, which means “ivy.”
* Significance: There is a subtle irony here. Ivy is a plant that clings to walls and ruins; Hynes is a man who “clings” to the memory of dead heroes (like Parnell) and is currently writing about a dead man (Dignam).
The Machine as a Monster
Bloom’s observation that machines could “Smash a man to atoms” reflects the 20th-century anxiety about technology. He sees the printing press as a literal “body-breaker,” mirroring how the “body-mind complex” from your dream handles trauma. The “old grey rat” is a callback to the rat Bloom saw in the cemetery earlier that morning—a symbol of nature’s “machinery” of decay.

In these lines, Bloom is connecting the relentless “thumping” of the printing presses to the biological processes of life and death.
Why “Fermenting”?
Bloom looks at the machines and sees something biological. To him, the machines aren’t just cold metal; they are “Working away, tearing away.”
* The Metaphor: Fermentation is a process of breakdown and transformation (like yeast turning sugar into alcohol). Bloom sees the world—and the human body—as a giant vat of chemicals and gears constantly moving.
* The “Machineries” of the Mind: When he says “His machineries are pegging away too,” he’s likely thinking of his own digestive system or his internal anxieties. Just as the press grinds paper to produce news, the body grinds food (and memories) to produce life.
* The Loss of Control: By saying they’ve “got out of hand,” he’s touching on that feeling of being a small human caught in a world of massive, unstoppable forces—much like the flood in your dream.
The “Old Grey Rat”
The rat is one of the most famous symbols in Ulysses.
* The Literal Rat: Earlier in the “Hades” episode (the funeral), Bloom saw a rat in the cemetery. It bothered him because it represents the “machinery” of nature—the creature that processes the dead back into the earth.
* The Tearing: Here in the office, he imagines the rat “tearing to get in.” It represents the persistent, nagging reality of death that waits outside the door, even while the “respected burgesses” of Dublin try to stay busy with their newspapers and ceremonies.

This section highlights Bloom’s practical mind. While others are focused on “grand” journalism, Bloom is looking at what actually makes a newspaper survive: the ads, the gossip, and the “human interest” stories.
Etymology & Difficult Terms
1. Demesne
* Etymology: From the Old French demeine (belonging to a lord), originating from the Latin dominus (master/lord). It is a legal doublet of the word “domain.”
* Context: In Irish land history, a “demesne” refers to the portion of a manor or estate that the lord retained for his own use and occupation, rather than leasing it out. Bloom is reading a dry, official legal notice about land.
2. Tinnahinch
* Etymology: This is an anglicized version of the Irish Tigh na hInse, which translates to “House of the Island” or “House of the Water-Meadow” (Tigh = House, Inis = Island/Meadow).
* Context: It is a real barony in County Laois. Joyce includes these specific place names to ground the “official gazette” in the hyper-specific, often boring reality of Irish bureaucracy.
3. Mules and Jennets
* Context: A “jennet” is a female donkey or a small Spanish horse. Bloom is skimming a government report on livestock exports. It’s “stale news” that contrasts with the “Personal Note” he prefers.
4. Threefour Time
* Context: This is a musical term for a waltz rhythm (3/4 meter). Bloom’s internal ear hears the machines as a dance: Thump, thump, thump. It shows his tendency to find patterns and art in the mechanical.
5. Monkeydoodle
* Context: A “Bloomism” meaning nonsense or aimless activity. If the printer were paralyzed, the machine would keep printing “monkeydoodle”—meaningless ink—forever.
6. “Tap him”
* Context: Slang for asking someone for money. Hynes is going to “tap” the cashier for his pay, just as he “tapped” Bloom for three shillings (“three bob”) three weeks ago.
The Printing Process: “The Sheet” and “The Screen”
When Nannetti scribbles “press” and hands it over the “dirty glass screen,” we are seeing the workflow of a 1904 newspaper office. The “typesetter” would then take that marked-up sheet and manually arrange the lead letters (moveable type) into a frame to be printed.

It is quintessential Bloom to find the “cure for flatulence” more interesting than the national news. He values the “personal note” because he sees the body—with all its messy, gassy realities—as more “real” than the grand political speeches of men like Nannetti.
The Etymology of Laois
Since Tinnahinch is located in County Laois, it’s a perfect time to look at its roots.
* Root: The name comes from the Irish Laoighis.
* Meaning: It is named after the Uí Laoighis, the descendants of Laoigseach Ceannmhor.
* Historical Context: Laoigseach translates roughly to “Laiginian” (meaning from Leinster), and Ceannmhor means “large-headed” or “chief-headed.” Effectively, the county is named after a specific tribal group that held the territory for centuries.
Why “Bob” for a Shilling?
Bloom is ruminating on the “three bob” Hynes owes him.
* Etymology: The origin of “bob” for a shilling is debated, but the strongest theory links it to Sir Robert Walpole (the first British Prime Minister), whose name “Bob” became associated with the currency of his era.
* Usage: In 1904, three bob was a significant amount—roughly the cost of a decent dinner and drinks. To Bloom, who tracks every penny, the “third hint” going unnoticed by Hynes is a stinging social slight.
The Appeal of “Flatulence Cures”
Bloom’s interest in “Dear Mr. Editor, what is a good cure for flatulence?” isn’t just a joke.
* Instructional Mindset: Bloom says, “Learn a lot teaching others.” He has a pedagogical streak; he loves the idea of being a useful, practical citizen.
* The Body-Machine: To Bloom, a “paralysed” printer and a gassy stomach are both mechanical failures. He prefers the “Country bumpkin’s queries” because they represent people trying to fix their immediate, physical lives rather than arguing about “Queen Anne is dead” (stale history).

The term “monkeydoodle” is one of Bloom’s most charming idiosyncratic thoughts, and it reveals much about how he views the chaos of the world.
The Etymology of “Monkeydoodle”
While it sounds like a nonsense word, it follows a linguistic pattern common in the late 19th century—the reduplicative compound.
* Root: It combines “monkey” (associated with mimicry or mindless play) with “doodle” (from the German dudeltopf, meaning a simpleton or someone playing a flute badly).
* Meaning: In Bloom’s mind, it signifies a total breakdown of meaning. If the foreman—the “intelligence” behind the press—were paralyzed, the machine would continue its physical “thumping,” but the result would be “monkeydoodle”: a mindless, repetitive mimicry of communication that says absolutely nothing.
The Paralyzed Machine: A Mirror to the Mind
Bloom’s fear that the machines would “clank on and on the same” if the operator were paralyzed is a direct link back to your body-mind complex theory.
* Autonomic Failure: Bloom realizes that the machine has its own “momentum.” Just as the body continues to breathe or digest (or produce dream projections) while the conscious mind is asleep or “paralyzed,” the industrial machine doesn’t care if the human spirit is present.
* The Loop: He imagines the press printing “over and over and up and back.” This represents the “stale news” cycle—the way society repeats the same political arguments (like Home Rule or Queen Anne) without ever moving forward.


Bloom’s mind is a master of the “side-glance,” moving from the money he’s owed to the clichés of history in a single breath.
The Etymology of “Cashier”
Hynes is hurrying toward the cashier to get paid, while Bloom is left counting his losses.
* Root: It comes from the Middle French caissier, which is derived from caisse (money box/chest).
* Deeper Root: This traces back to the Latin capsa (box), the same root for the word “capsule.”
* Significance: To Bloom, the cashier is the “keeper of the box,” the gatekeeper of the liquid capital he so carefully tracks. In the “Aeolus” episode, money is the fuel that keeps the “clanking drums” of the press turning.
“Queen Anne is Dead”
Bloom dismisses the official news as being as relevant as this phrase.
* The Origin: Queen Anne died in 1714. Because her death was a moment of massive political tension (the succession of the House of Hanover), the news was spread with extreme urgency. However, because it was such a major event, people continued to “break the news” long after everyone already knew.
* The Meaning: By 1904, it became a sarcastic retort to anyone telling “stale news” or stating the obvious.
* In Context: Bloom is critiquing the newspaper industry. He thinks the “Official Gazette” is filled with dead history, whereas the “Personal Note” and “Flatulence Cures” are the living, breathing reality of Dublin.
Mules and Jennets: The Export Trade
As Bloom skims the list of livestock being exported from Ballina (Etymology: Béal an Átha – “Mouth of the Ford”), he’s looking at the raw data of Ireland’s economy.
* Mule: The offspring of a male donkey and a female horse.
* Jennet: Specifically refers to a female donkey, or historically, a small Spanish horse.
   To Bloom, these animals are just more “units” in the great machinery of the world—like the typesetters or the “burgesses” who eventually get “smashed to atoms.”

This scene highlights Bloom’s role as an “ad canvasser”—the middleman between the business world and the printing press. He is trying to explain a visual design for an advertisement for Alexander Keyes, a tea, wine, and spirit merchant.
The Design: The “Two Keys”
Bloom wants to make a visual pun for the ad. By crossing his forefingers, he is showing Nannetti how he wants the layout to look: two crossed keys at the top.
* The Symbolism: The crossed keys are the symbol of St. Peter (the keys to the kingdom of heaven). Bloom, ever the clever marketer, wants to use this prestigious religious symbol to sell house-brand “Keyes” whiskey and tea.
* The Gesture: “Crossing his forefingers at the top” is Bloom’s way of communicating through the “hell of a racket” of the machines.
The “Obidient Reels” and “Huge Webs”
Bloom watches the paper being fed into the machines. Joyce uses the word “webs” because the paper wasn’t in individual sheets but in massive, continuous rolls (web-fed printing).
* The Life Cycle of News: Bloom’s thought, “What becomes of it after? O, wrap up meat, parcels,” is a classic Bloomism. He sees the “Great Daily Organ” as something that will eventually become trash—a “body” that is broken down and reused, much like the “old grey rat” in the cemetery.
Technical & Contextual Terms
* Alpaca Jacket: A lightweight jacket made from the wool of the alpaca. It was popular among office workers and foremen because it was durable and stayed cool in the heat of a printing room.
* Jaundice: Bloom notices Nannetti’s “sallow face” and immediately diagnoses him with jaundice (a yellowing of the skin caused by liver issues). It shows Bloom’s constant medical/biological “body-mind” scanning of the people around him.
* Scarred Woodwork: The desks in the office are “scarred” by years of pencils, knives, and lead type, recording the history of the work in the wood itself.

Bloom’s mind often wanders to the “Golden Strand,” a classic example of his voyeuristic but appreciative nature. He is a man who loves the aesthetic of the human form as much as the utility of a “cure for flatulence.”
M.A.P. (Mainly All Pictures)
This was a real publication of the era, officially titled Mainly About People.
* The “Bloom” Interpretation: Characteristically, Bloom reinterprets the acronym to suit his visual interests: “Mainly All Pictures.” * Shapely Bathers: In 1904, photography was still a relatively fresh wonder in newspapers. The “golden strand” refers to the beaches where people were beginning to be photographed in “scandalous” (for the time) swimwear. This reflects Bloom’s constant search for beauty and vitality amidst the “thumping” of the heavy machinery.
The Etymology of Ballina
Since the mules and jennets are being exported from here, Bloom’s internal map of Ireland flickers to life.
* Irish Root: Béal an Átha.
* Meaning: “Mouth of the Ford.” (Béal = mouth, Áth = ford).
* Context: Ballina, in County Mayo, was a major port for livestock. The “mouth” imagery fits perfectly with the “Aeolus” episode, which is themed entirely around mouths, wind, and the “opening” of information (the press).
“Cuprani too, printer. More Irish than the Irish.”
Bloom mentions Cuprani, a fellow worker in the office.
* The Phrase: “Hiberniores Hibernis ipsis” (More Irish than the Irish themselves).
* Significance: This was a historical term for foreigners (usually Normans or Italians) who came to Ireland and became more culturally Irish than the natives. Bloom, an Irishman of Jewish descent, likely identifies with this. He is an outsider who knows the “townlands of Rosenallis” and the “baronies of Tinnahinch” better than the “pure” Irishmen who are too busy shouting about politics.


The “Pat and Bull” Story
Bloom mentions “Phil Blake’s weekly Pat and Bull story.” This is a play on two things:
* The “John Bull” and “Pat” trope: John Bull was the personification of England (stout, stubborn, wearing a Union Jack waistcoat), and “Pat” (or Paddy) was the stereotypical Irishman.
* Cock and Bull Stories: These were far-fetched, ridiculous tales. Phil Blake’s column likely featured humorous, exaggerated sketches about the interactions between the English and the Irish—the kind of “low” literature Bloom finds more entertaining than the “Official Gazette.”
Member for College Green
Bloom thinks of Nannetti as the “Member for College Green.”
* Context: College Green is the heart of Dublin, home to Trinity College and the old Irish Houses of Parliament (now the Bank of Ireland).
* The Irony: Nannetti was indeed an MP for this district. Bloom notes how Nannetti “boomed that workaday worker tack for all it was worth.” Bloom admires the performance of politics—how a man of Italian descent could become the voice of the Irish worker. It’s a “projection” of identity, much like the scenarios your “body-mind complex” creates during sleep.


The Etymology of Mule and Jennet
1. Mule
* Root: Derived from the Old English mūl, which comes from the Latin mulus.
* Biological Context: A mule is the hybrid offspring of a male donkey (jack) and a female horse (mare).
* Symbolism in the Press: Mules are famously sterile. To Bloom, reading about their export might mirror the “sterile” nature of the “official gazette”—lots of noise and work, but producing nothing new or “fertile” like the personal stories he prefers.
2. Jennet (or Genet)
* Root: From the Middle French genet, which likely traces back to the Arabic zanāta, a Berber tribe famous for their breed of small horses.
* The Distinction: While a “mule” is the jack-mare cross, a hinny (often confused with a jennet in common parlance) is the cross between a male horse and a female donkey. However, in the 1904 context, “jennet” was often used in Ireland specifically to refer to a small, sturdy donkey or a small Spanish horse.
“Learn a lot teaching others”
Bloom’s thought here is a recognized psychological principle now called the Protégé Effect. By imagining himself answering the “Country bumpkin’s queries” about flatulence, he is seeking a way to organize his own vast, cluttered store of knowledge. He doesn’t just want to know things; he wants to be the “saviour” of the practical man.

Bloom is operating at his peak “advertising” level here, weaving together commerce, political puns, and visual cues. He is trying to convince Nannetti that a simple drink advertisement can also be a clever political statement.
1. The Etymology of Galleypage
* Root: Derived from the Old French galie or Medieval Latin galeia. In a nautical sense, a “galley” was a low, flat ship.
* Printing Context: In the 15th century, printers used a long, shallow metal tray to hold the lines of hand-set type. Because of its long, narrow shape, it was called a galley.
* The “Page”: A galleypage (or galley proof) is a preliminary version of the text printed from this tray to check for errors before the type is divided into actual book or newspaper pages. When Joyce describes it as “limp,” he’s noting the thin, wet quality of the freshly inked proof.
2. The Etymology of Kilkenny
* Irish Root: Cill Chainnigh.
* Meaning: “Cell (or Church) of Canice.” (Cill = church/cell, Chainnigh = Canice).
* Significance: St. Canice was a 6th-century abbot. Kilkenny is often called the “Marble City,” and Bloom’s mention of it reminds us of his connection to the wider Irish landscape outside of Dublin.
3. The Etymology of Manx
* Root: It comes from the Old Norse Manskr, related to the name of the island, Mann.
* Meaning: Specifically refers to the people, language, or culture of the Isle of Man.
* Linguistic Link: The native name for the island is Ellan Vannin. The “Manx” language is a Goidelic Celtic language, closely related to Irish and Scottish Gaelic.
4. The “Innuendo of Home Rule”
Bloom is being very “deft” here.
* The House of Keys: This is the name of the lower house of Tynwald, the parliament of the Isle of Man.
* The Pun: By calling the shop the “House of Keyes,” Bloom is making a joke. The Isle of Man had its own legislative autonomy (Home Rule). By using this name for a Dublin shop, he is subtly signaling the Irish desire for Home Rule (self-governance) from Britain.
* The “Innuendo”: He calls it an “innuendo” because in 1904, openly shouting for independence could be risky or seen as “too much” for a simple ad. A pun, however, is a safe, “eye-catching” way to appeal to nationalist sentiment.
Where was this symbol of two keys?
The “Two Keys” symbol (the Crossed Keys) is historically the coat of arms of the Diocese of St. Peter. You can find it:
* In Rome: It is the primary symbol of the Papacy (the Keys to Heaven and Earth).
* In Public Houses: Many British and Irish pubs are named “The Crossed Keys.”
* The Design: Bloom draws it on the “scarred woodwork” as two keys crossed like an X with a circle around them. It is both a religious icon and a brand mark for Alexander Keyes.

The contrast between Nannetti’s “iron nerves” and the delicate alpaca jacket he wears is a perfect example of the sensory layering in this chapter.
Iron Nerves and the Sound of Industry
Bloom is amazed that Nannetti “doesn’t hear” the “hell of a racket.”
* The “Nannan” Sound: Bloom mimics the repetitive, metallic vibration of the machinery in his mind.
* Habituation: Nannetti’s “iron nerves” are actually a result of sensory habituation. In a pre-OSHA world, printers and factory foremen often suffered from “Boilermaker’s deafness,” where the high-frequency sounds of metal-on-metal clanking eventually killed the hair cells in the inner ear. Nannetti isn’t just calm; he has likely been physically altered by his environment.
* The Body-Mind complex: Just as you were able to sleep through the early morning noise until the specific “knock” of your mother, Nannetti has tuned out the machines to listen for the “pauses” where Bloom slips his words.
The Etymology of Alpaca
* Root: The word comes from the Spanish alpaca, which is derived from the Aymara (an indigenous Andean language) word allpaka.
* The Animal: The alpaca is a species of South American camelid. Unlike the “Mules and Jennets” of Ireland, which are beasts of burden, the alpaca was bred for its incredibly soft, durable fiber.
* Symbolism: In the dirty, ink-stained environment of the Freeman’s Journal, Nannetti’s alpaca jacket is a badge of his status. It’s a “worker’s” fabric but refined—much like Nannetti himself, the “Member for College Green.”
Jaundice and the Sallow Face
Bloom’s diagnosis of Nannetti’s “sallow face” as a “touch of jaundice” is linguistically interesting.
* Etymology of Jaundice: From the Old French jaunice, from jaune (yellow).
* Bloom’s Medical Gaze: Bloom is constantly looking for “clues” to the internal workings of the people he meets. To him, a yellow face isn’t just a color; it’s a sign that the “machinery” of Nannetti’s liver is “tearing away” or “fermenting” incorrectly.

Bloom is constantly trying to bridge his home life with his work life. His hesitation about the word “voglio” is a perfect example: he wants to help his wife, Molly, with her singing, but he’s too socially cautious to risk looking foolish in front of Nannetti.
The Etymology of “Voglio”
* Root: It comes from the Italian verb volere (to want/to wish), which descends from the Latin velle.
* Meaning: Voglio means “I want.”
* The Musical Connection: Molly Bloom is a professional singer preparing for a concert. She is rehearsing the duet “Là ci darem la mano” from Mozart’s opera Don Giovanni. The line is “Voglio e non vorrei” (“I want to, and yet I would not”).
* Bloom’s Dilemma: Bloom knows Nannetti is of Italian descent. He wants to know if the “g” is silent (it is—it produces a liquid “ly” sound like vo-lyo), but he decides “better not” ask. He doesn’t want to break the professional “canvasser” persona with a personal, domestic question.
The Isle of Man and the Tynwald
Bloom’s “House of Keys” pun is deeper than just a shop name.
* History: The Isle of Man, located in the Irish Sea between Ireland and England, is a self-governing British Crown Dependency.
* The Tynwald: Its parliament, the Tynwald, is one of the oldest continuous parliamentary bodies in the world (established by Vikings over 1,000 years ago).
* The “Keys”: The House of Keys is the popularly elected branch. The name “Keys” is likely a corruption of the Manx Gaelic word kiare-as-feed, meaning “four and twenty,” referring to the 24 members of the house.
* Home Rule Connection: For Dubliners in 1904, the Isle of Man was a nearby example of a small nation managing its own affairs while staying under the Crown—exactly what the Irish “Home Rule” party was fighting for.
The “Limp Galleypage” and the Case
As the typesetter brings the galley proof, we see the physical reality of 1904 printing:
* The Cases: Typesetters stood at “cases” of lead letters. The “Upper Case” held capital letters, and the “Lower Case” held small letters (hence our modern terminology).
* Silent Typesetters: Unlike the “booming” Nannetti or the “clanking” machines, the typesetters are silent and precise—mechanical humans serving the “thumping” heart of the paper.

Bloom is having a bit of fun with the “Proof fever” that infects everyone in a newspaper office. To address your observation first: actually, Martin Cunningham doesn’t work for the paper. He works at Dublin Castle (the seat of British administration). However, in the car ride to the cemetery, the men were chatting, and Bloom is simply recalling the kind of word-games Cunningham likes to play.
Decoding the Spelling Conundrum
The sentence that doesn’t seem to make sense is a mnemonic device designed to test someone’s spelling of words that are notoriously difficult to get right (especially for printers).
Here is the breakdown of the “traps” in that sentence:
* Unparalleled: (One ‘r’, two ‘l’s at the end).
* Embarrassment: (Two ‘r’s, two ‘s’s).
* Harassed: (One ‘r’, two ‘s’s—people often double the ‘r’).
* Pedlar: (Spelled with ‘ar’ in British English of the time, rather than ‘er’).
* Gauging: (The ‘au’ is the tricky part).
* Symmetry / Cemetery: (The ‘y’ vs. the ‘e’). Bloom notes the irony of a “peeled pear” being under a “cemetery wall”—it’s a nonsense image created purely to force the speller to distinguish between the two words.
“Doing its level best to speak”
Bloom’s “body-mind complex” is now projecting human traits onto the machinery.
* The Nethermost Deck: This refers to the bottom delivery tray of the rotary press.
* Sllt: This is the onomatopoeic sound of the flyboard (the mechanical arm that catches the paper) sliding a new batch into place.
* Quirefolded: A “quire” is a traditional measure of paper (24 or 25 sheets). The machine is automatically folding and grouping them.
* Everything speaks: This is a major theme in Ulysses. Bloom believes the physical world is “talking”—the door creaks to be shut, the machine “slaps” to call attention. It’s his way of making sense of the “hell of a racket.”
“Clapped on his topper”
Bloom is feeling socially awkward. He remembers Martin Cunningham’s hat was looking a bit shabby earlier. He regrets not giving him a compliment (“Looks as good as new now”) just to see his “phiz” (slang for physiognomy or face) light up.

You are spot on—it is a Spelling Bee test, not a piece of literary prose.
In the era before digital spellchecks, printers and clerks used “nonsense sentences” like this as a diagnostic tool to catch common errors. It’s essentially a linguistic obstacle course.
Why the “Peeled Pear” and the “Cemetery Wall”?
The sentence is constructed solely to cram as many “orthographical traps” (spelling traps) into one thought as possible.
* Symmetry vs. Cemetery: This is the core of the joke. These two words sound very similar but are spelled with different vowels. By placing a “pear” (physical symmetry) under a “cemetery wall,” the test forces the writer to switch between the -y and the -e correctly under pressure.
* The “Irony”: Bloom thinks it’s “silly” because the image is absurd. No one actually gauges the symmetry of fruit under a graveyard wall, but the body-mind complex of a typesetter has to treat the words as real data to get the letters in the right order.
Martin Cunningham’s Role
Martin Cunningham didn’t write this as prose; he likely posed it as a “conundrum” or a riddle during the carriage ride to the funeral. He is known among the group as a man of intellect and “good spelling,” so he enjoys testing the others. Bloom is sitting in the newspaper office—the very place where spelling is “law”—and the memory of that test resurfaces because he is surrounded by the “proof fever” of the editors.
The Etymology of “Phiz”
Since Bloom wanted to see Cunningham’s “phiz” react to a compliment, it’s worth looking at this punchy little word.
* Root: It is a clipping (a shortened version) of the word physiognomy.
* History: In the 17th and 18th centuries, it became trendy to shorten long, academic words. “Physiognomy” (the art of judging character from facial features) was chopped down to “phiz.”
* Context: For Bloom, a “phiz” is more than just a face; it’s a mechanical display of a person’s internal “machinery.”

Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

As you are now so once were we

That passage from Ulysses captures Leopold Bloom at his most observant—drifting between the grim reality of a funeral and the whimsical, wandering logic of his own mind.
Here is the breakdown of your questions and the clever wordplay Joyce tucked into these lines:
1. Caesar and the Ides of March (or June)
Bloom’s mind jumps to the famous line from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar: “I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.” * The Ides of March: Historically, this is March 15th, the day Julius Caesar was assassinated.
* Why “or June”?: This scene takes place on June 16, 1904. Bloom is cheekily modernizing the tragedy. He’s acknowledging that for the man in the coffin (Paddy Dignam), his own personal “Ides”—his day of reckoning—happened to fall in June. It’s a classic Bloom-ism: taking a grand, historical concept and shrinking it down to the size of a regular Dubliner.
2. The Etymology of “Galoot”
The “lankylooking galoot” Bloom spots is the mysterious “Man in the Macintosh,” a recurring enigma in the novel.
* Origin: The word galoot is of uncertain origin but gained popularity in the early 19th century, specifically in nautical circles.
* Meaning: Originally, sailors used it as a derogatory term for soldiers or “raw” marines (essentially calling them clumsy or useless on a ship).
* Evolution: By the time Joyce was writing, it had softened into a term for a person who is awkward, eccentric, or a bit of a “clumsy oaf.” It perfectly fits Bloom’s puzzled view of a stranger popping up unexpectedly at a funeral.
3. “Every Friday buries a Thursday”
This is one of Joyce’s most poetic puns. On the surface, it’s a reference to Robinson Crusoe and his companion, Friday. But deeper down:
* Temporal Burial: It’s a metaphor for the passage of time. Each new day effectively “buries” the one that came before it.
* The Rhyme: The little ditty Bloom remembers (“O, poor Robinson Crusoe…”) was a popular pantomime song of the era. Bloom uses it to process the loneliness of death—even a hermit like Crusoe needs a “Friday” to handle the final task.

The Man in the Macintosh is one of the most famous “riddles” in Ulysses. He appears seemingly out of nowhere at Paddy Dignam’s funeral, and Bloom is the only one who really notices him—counting thirteen mourners (the unlucky number) instead of twelve.
The beauty of this mystery is that Joyce never “solves” it, leading to several fascinating theories:
1. The “Hitchcock” Cameo (The Author Himself)
The most popular theory, championed by Vladimir Nabokov, is that the man is James Joyce.
* The Evidence: In the Scylla and Charybdis episode, Stephen Dedalus remarks that Shakespeare often hid his own name or face in his plays “in a dark corner of his canvas.”
* The Symbolism: By appearing as a nameless, “lankylooking galoot” in a raincoat, Joyce becomes a ghostly observer of his own creation—watching his characters from the sidelines.
2. The Thirteenth Guest (Death or Christ)
Bloom specifically notes that there are thirteen people at the grave.
* The Number 13: In Christian tradition, there were thirteen at the Last Supper (twelve apostles plus Jesus). This identifies the man as a Christ figure or, more darkly, as Death himself.
* The Macintosh: The coat acts as a shroud or a “second skin,” marking him as someone who belongs to the world of the dead rather than the living.
3. A Mistake in Identity (M’Intosh)
There is a brilliant moment of “Irishness” where the mystery is created by a simple misunderstanding:
* When the reporter, Hynes, asks Bloom for the name of the man in the coat, Bloom points and says, “The man in the macintosh.” * Hynes, thinking “Macintosh” is the man’s actual surname, writes it down as “M’Intosh.” Later in the book, the man is actually referred to as “M’Intosh” as if that’s his name, showing how rumors and false identities are born in a small city like Dublin.
4. James Duffy (from Dubliners)
Some scholars believe he is Mr. Duffy from Joyce’s short story “A Painful Case.” * In that story, Duffy is a lonely man who “loves a lady who is dead.”
* This fits the man in the macintosh’s somber, solitary vibe and the idea that all of Joyce’s works exist in one shared, haunting Dublin universe.

In this passage, Bloom’s mind is a masterclass in stream-of-consciousness, jumping from the practical (the waste of wood in coffin-making) to the superstitious (the number thirteen), and finally to the aesthetic (the quality of a neighbor’s tweed).
Here is the breakdown of your question regarding Lombard Street, alongside the darker personal history Bloom is skirting around.
1. Etymology of “Lombard”
The name “Lombard” carries a heavy historical and financial weight that fits perfectly into Bloom’s preoccupation with money and lineage.
* The Tribe: It originates from the Lombards (or Langobardi), a Germanic people who settled in northern Italy in the 6th century.
* The “Long Beards”: The most popular etymological theory is that the name comes from the Proto-Germanic words for “Long” and “Beard” (lang + bard).
* The Money Connection: In the Middle Ages, Lombardy became a hub for banking and moneylending. Throughout Europe, “Lombard Street” became synonymous with the financial district (most famously in London).
* Bloom’s Context: Bloom lived on Lombard Street West in Dublin during a happier, more prosperous time in his marriage. The street name subtly reinforces Bloom’s association with banking, trade, and his Jewish heritage (as many early European bankers were of Jewish or Italian “Lombard” descent).
2. “Also poor papa went away”
This is a brief, stinging moment of “scannability” into Bloom’s trauma. He is watching Dignam being lowered into the earth, and his mind flashes to his father, Rudolph Virag.
* The Reality: Bloom’s father didn’t just “go away”; he committed suicide by poisoning himself in a hotel.
* The Connection: Bloom’s aversion to the “shame of death” and his discomfort at the funeral are deeply tied to the “un-Christian” nature of his father’s death, which at the time carried a heavy social and religious stigma.
3. “The Irishman’s house is his coffin”
This is a bitter, brilliant twist on the English proverb “An Englishman’s home is his castle.” Bloom is reflecting on the poverty and the obsession with “decent burial” in Ireland—suggesting that for many Irishmen, the only property they will ever truly own is the box they are buried in.

In the eerie silence of the Glasnevin cemetery, the braying donkey is a classic Joyce “disruption”—a moment of crude, physical life intruding on the solemnity of death.
Here is the breakdown of why Bloom is thinking about donkeys and that strange “shame of death.”
1. “Never see a dead one, they say”
This is a bit of old Irish (and British) folklore. The saying goes that “you never see a dead donkey or a dead postman.”
* The Practical Reason: Donkeys are incredibly hardy animals. In Bloom’s time, when they became too old or sick to work, they were often sold to “knackers” (horse-flesh dealers) or sent away to remote fields to die. Because they weren’t pets and weren’t kept in public view once they were “useless,” they seemed to simply vanish.
* Bloom’s Interpretation: He links this to the “shame of death.” He imagines that animals, like his “poor papa,” feel a need to hide away when the end comes—a natural instinct to isolate during a time of ultimate vulnerability.
2. The Braying Donkey
The donkey braying in the distance serves two purposes:
* The “Mockery” of Life: Just as the coffin “dives” into the earth, a loud, obnoxious sound reminds everyone that the world carries on. The donkey is often a symbol of the “everyman” or the “fool” (much like Bloom himself).
* The Ass and the Funeral: There is a subtle religious irony here. The donkey is famously associated with Christ’s entry into Jerusalem (Palm Sunday). Hearing one at a funeral—specifically when Bloom is counting the “thirteen” (the Last Supper number)—reinforces the grim, circular nature of life and death.
3. “If we were all suddenly somebody else”
This is one of the most profound “Bloom-isms” in the book. Standing over a grave, Bloom experiences a flash of radical empathy.
* He realizes that the “I” is fragile. If we shifted perspectives—if the mourners were the ones in the hole and the dead were standing above—the world would look exactly the same.
* It’s a moment of ego-dissolution. Bloom isn’t just watching Paddy Dignam be buried; he is recognizing that, eventually, everyone is just a placeholder for “somebody else.”

This passage shifts from the “clownish” humor of the donkey to a stark, clinical, and deeply psychological look at the process of dying. Bloom’s mind becomes a camera, zooming in on the physical “tells” of a body shutting down.
1. Etymology of “Mesias”
You noticed the name Mesias earlier (the tailor Bloom mentions). In a book as layered as Ulysses, even the tailor’s name is a pun.
* Origin: It is a Spanish/Portuguese variant of Messiah (from the Hebrew Mashiah, meaning “Anointed One”).
* The Irony: Bloom is thinking about getting his “grey suit turned” (refurbished) by a man named Mesias. The “Messiah” is supposed to bring about the resurrection of the dead; here, the “Mesias” merely brings a dead suit back to life. It’s a classic Joyce touch—the divine reduced to the mundane.
2. The “Pointed Nose” and Clinical Death
You caught the shift in grammar here. Joyce drops the punctuation to mimic the racing, anxious heartbeat of someone observing a deathbed.
* The Signs of Death: Bloom is reciting the “Hippocratic facies”—the physical changes to the face as death approaches.
   * Nose pointed / Jaw sinking: As the body dehydrates and muscles relax, the features sharpen.
   * Soles of the feet yellow: A sign of failing circulation.
* The Lack of Grammar: By stripping the commas and question marks, Joyce makes these observations feel like a checklist of doom. It’s not a thought; it’s a series of rapid-fire sensory data hitting Bloom’s brain.
3. “The Last Act of Lucia”
Bloom’s mind jumps to the opera Lucia di Lammermoor.
* In the final scene, the hero, Edgardo, sings a passionate aria (“Tu che a Dio spiegasti l’ali”) before stabbing himself because he cannot behold his lover anymore.
* The “Bam!”: Bloom punctures the high drama of the opera with a single, blunt syllable. To Bloom, death isn’t a beautiful aria; it’s a sudden, silent “Bam!” and then… nothing.
4. Ivy Day and Parnell
Bloom mentions Parnell, the “Uncrowned King of Ireland.”
* Ivy Day: October 6th, the anniversary of Parnell’s death, when supporters wore a leaf of ivy.
* The Reflection: Bloom is being cynical. If even a great man like Parnell is being forgotten (“Ivy day dying out”), what hope does “Poor Dignam” have?

Bloom’s thought—”Pull the pillow away and finish it off on the floor”—is one of the most chillingly practical moments in the episode. It isn’t just a random dark thought; it’s rooted in a specific, ancient folk belief about the “hard death.”
1. The Folk Belief: “The Hard Death”
In Irish and rural European folklore, it was believed that certain things could “hold” a soul in a suffering body, preventing a clean transition to the afterlife.
* Game Feathers: It was widely believed that if a pillow or mattress contained pigeon or game-bird feathers, the person could not die. They would linger in agony.
* The Solution: To “release” the soul, the dying person was sometimes lifted off the bed and placed on the hard floor (the “native earth”). Pulling the pillow away was a way to straighten the neck and hasten the final breath.
* Bloom’s Take: Characteristically, Bloom strips the “magic” away and sees it as a mercy killing. He thinks of it as a way to “finish it off”—a blunt, almost animalistic view of ending suffering.
2. “Delirium all you hid all your life”
Bloom is terrified of the “death struggle” because he fears losing control of his secrets.
* Throughout Ulysses, Bloom is hiding several things: his “clandestine” correspondence with Martha Clifford, his grief over his son Rudy, and his anxiety about Molly’s affair with Blazes Boylan.
* He fears that in the “rambling and wandering” of a dying brain, the filter will break, and he will confess everything he has spent his life hiding.
3. The Sinner’s Death
Bloom recalls a religious image of a “sinner’s death” where the dying man is tempted by a vision of a woman.
* This represents the struggle between the spirit and the flesh.
* Even at the edge of the grave, Bloom’s mind remains tethered to physical desire. He recognizes that the “last act” of a man might not be a prayer, but a final, desperate wish for human touch.

The tension in this scene is palpable. Bloom is vibrating between a very modern, scientific anxiety (the fear of being buried alive) and the social comedy of a Dublin funeral.
1. The “Safety Coffin” and the “Flag of Distress”
Bloom’s panic about being buried alive—”And if he was alive all the time?”—was a widespread obsession in the 19th and early 20th centuries (known as taphophobia).
* The Telephone/Clock: Bloom’s mind races toward practical inventions. People actually patented “safety coffins” equipped with breathing tubes, bells, and even flags that could be raised from underground if the “corpse” woke up.
* “Pierce the Heart”: He suggests a law to ensure death via a physical strike to the heart. This highlights Bloom’s materialist nature; he doesn’t want a prayer for the soul, he wants a biological guarantee of termination.
2. The Birth of “M’Intosh”
Here we see the hilarious birth of a legend.
* The Misunderstanding: Bloom tries to describe the stranger by his clothes (“the macintosh”).
* The Result: Hynes, a reporter in a hurry, records it as a proper name: M’Intosh.
* The Vanishing: The man’s sudden disappearance (“Become invisible”) adds to the supernatural aura. Bloom’s thought—”Has anybody here seen? Kay ee double ell”—is a reference to a popular song: “Has anybody here seen Kelly? K-E-double-L-Y.” Even in a cemetery, Bloom’s brain is a jukebox of pop culture.
3. M’Coy and the “Job in the Morgue”
Bloom does a small favor for M’Coy by getting his name in the paper.
* The “Job”: M’Coy works at the morgue. Bloom’s mind immediately connects this to postmortems.
* The Critique of Doctors: “Find out what they imagine they know.” Bloom has a healthy skepticism of authority. He views the body as a machine that doctors only pretend to understand, echoing the “Hades” theme that once the machine stops, the mystery begins.
4. Is Bloom Delirious?
You mentioned Bloom might be delirious. While he isn’t hallucinating, he is experiencing sensory overload.
* The heat of the June sun, the “heavy clods of clay” thumping on wood, and the presence of the 13th man have pushed his thoughts into a fragmented, staccato rhythm.
* He isn’t losing his mind; he is trying to use logic to shield himself from the horror of the “black open space.”

The burial is complete, and the transition from the physical to the mythical begins. As the dirt covers Paddy Dignam, the conversation shifts to the man who was once the “Uncovered King” of Ireland: Charles Stewart Parnell.
1. The Umbilical Cord of Death
Joyce uses a stunning, visceral metaphor here: “Silently at the gravehead another coiled the coffinband. His navelcord.”
* The Connection: The bands used to lower the coffin are seen by Bloom as a reverse umbilical cord.
* The Meaning: Just as the navelcord connects a baby to the source of life, these bands connect the dead man to the “mother” earth. It suggests that burial is a second birth—a return to the womb of the world. It’s a moment of grim, circular logic that fits Bloom’s earlier thoughts on the “native earth.”
2. The Messianic Myth of Parnell
Mr. Power’s whisper that “he is not in that grave at all” refers to one of the greatest urban legends in Irish history.
* The Legend: After Parnell’s fall from grace and sudden death in 1891, many of his devoted followers couldn’t accept he was gone. Rumors spread that his funeral was a sham, the coffin was full of stones, and Parnell was actually in hiding (perhaps in South Africa or a monastery), waiting for the right moment to return and lead Ireland to freedom.
* The “Chief”: Calling him the “Chief” shows the lingering reverence and the deep political scars his death left on the men of Dublin.
3. “All that was mortal of him”
Hynes’s response is more grounded. He is a Fenian and a nationalist, but he is also a realist.
* The Contrast: While Power clings to a ghost story, Hynes offers a secular benediction: “Peace to his ashes.” * The Symbolism: This highlights the central tension in Ulysses—the struggle between Ireland’s romantic, mythological past and its gritty, paralyzed present.
4. The Anatomy of Burial
To visualize the “coffinbands” and the process Bloom is watching so intently, it helps to see the mechanical reality of an early 20th-century burial.

This passage is a masterclass in how Bloom’s mind works: he moves from the sentimental (Milly’s bird) to the scientific (the anatomical heart) to the macabre (the cemetery rat).
1. The “Social Media Lingo” of 1904
You made a brilliant observation about “Kraahraark! Hellohellohello…” being the “lingo” of the era.
* The Technology: Bloom is imagining a phonograph (or gramophone). In 1904, this was cutting-edge tech. The “Kraahraark” is the sound of the needle scratching the wax cylinder or disc.
* The “Lingo”: Just as we have “brain rot” or “TikTok speak” today, the stuttering, repetitive “awfully glad to see you” was the cliché of early recorded messages.
* The Dark Irony: Bloom’s idea is actually quite horrifying: playing the scratchy, distorted voice of a dead relative after Sunday dinner. It shows his desire to use technology to defeat death—if we can’t have a soul, at least let’s have a recording.
2. The Anatomy of the Sacred Heart
Bloom looks at a statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and, as a pragmatist, finds it medically inaccurate.
* “Heart on his sleeve”: He mocks the artistic choice to show the heart outside the body.
* “Ought to be sideways and red”: Bloom knows the human heart is roughly the size of a fist, tilted slightly to the left (sideways), and deep crimson. To him, the religious icon is a poor “biological” diagram.
3. Robert Emmet vs. Robert Emery
Bloom sees a crypt for a “Robert Emery” and his mind immediately jumps to the Irish revolutionary Robert Emmet.
* The History: Robert Emmet was executed in 1803. His “Speech from the Dock” is legendary, ending with: “When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written.”
* The Mystery: Because of this, Emmet was buried in an unmarked grave. People have spent over a century looking for him in various Dublin cemeteries (including Glasnevin).
4. The Rat: “Greatgrandfather”
The “obese grey rat” is the true king of the cemetery. Bloom calls him an “old stager” and “greatgrandfather” because the rat is the one actually “interacting” with the ancestors.
* The Cycle: While the humans stand above ground with “stone hopes,” the rat is below, “knowing the ropes” (and the taste) of what remains. It is a stark, “un-poetical” reminder of the physical reality of death.

This passage marks Bloom’s emotional “resurrection.” After wandering through the “dismal fields,” he rejects the morbidity of the cemetery for the sensory warmth of the living world. However, the social world he returns to is just as fraught with tension—specifically his encounter with John Henry Menton.
1. “The Love That Kills” and Mrs. Sinico
Bloom mentions Mrs. Sinico. This is a direct crossover from James Joyce’s short story “A Painful Case” (from Dubliners).
* The Connection: Mrs. Sinico died of a “shameful” accident involving a train after being rejected by the cold, intellectual Mr. Duffy.
* The Contrast: Bloom connects her death to his father’s (“Poor papa too”). Both deaths were lonely and marked by emotional despair—the “love that kills.”
2. “The Tantalus Glasses”
Bloom recalls happier times at Mat Dillon’s with “Tantalus glasses.”
* Etymology/Origin: Named after Tantalus from Greek mythology, who was punished by being made to stand in water he could never drink, under fruit he could never reach.
* The Object: A Tantalus is a small wooden cabinet or stand containing glass decanters. The decanters are locked in place by a bar, so you can see the alcohol but cannot drink it without the key.
* Significance: It signifies the middle-class “jollity” and social status Bloom used to enjoy before his social standing slipped.
3. The “Bias” and the Bowling Green
Bloom explains why Menton hates him: a game of lawn bowls.
* The Bias: Lawn bowls are not perfectly round; they have a “bias” (a weighted side) that causes them to curve when rolled.
* The Fluke: Bloom “sailed inside” Menton (beat him) by pure luck. Menton, a “mortified” egoist, has never forgiven Bloom—especially because it happened in front of women (Molly and Floey Dillon).
4. “The Irishman’s Heart” vs. “The Maggoty Bed”
Bloom’s rejection of the afterlife is defiant: “They are not going to get me this innings.” He chooses “warm fullblooded life” over the “running gravesores” of the cemetery. It is a moment of pure, stubborn vitality.

Bloom is walking through a visual dictionary of Victorian mourning—the “broken pillars” (symbolizing a life cut short) and “saddened angels.” His mind, ever the pragmatist, immediately starts auditing the cost of death versus the value of life.
1. Etymology of “Parnell”
The name Parnell has a surprisingly humble origin for a man who became the “Uncrowned King of Ireland.”
* Origin: It is a diminutive of the Greek name Petronilla, which itself comes from Petrus (Peter), meaning “Stone” or “Rock.”
* Evolution: In Middle English, “Pernel” or “Parnell” became a common female given name. Over time, it transitioned into a surname.
* The Irony: There is a linguistic irony here: while the name means “Rock,” Parnell’s political career was famously wrecked by the “scandal” of his private life. Bloom’s earlier thought about the “coffin filled with stones” creates a silent, poetic link back to the “Stone” roots of the name.
2. “Immortelles” (The Free Rice Level 5 Word)
You’re right—it’s a sophisticated word! In this context, Bloom is looking at the graves and seeing Immortelles.
* Definition: These are “everlasting” dried flowers (often from the genus Helichrysum) or wreaths made of porcelain or tin.
* Bloom’s Critique: He finds them “tiresome” because they never wither. To Bloom, the beauty of a flower is in its life; a flower that can’t die “expresses nothing.” It is a fake tribute.
* Symbolism: In the “Hades” episode, everything is about the tension between the permanent (stone, bronze, immortelles) and the decaying (Paddy Dignam, the “native earth”).
3. “Got the shove, all of them”
Bloom mocks the euphemisms of the cemetery:
* “Departed this life” or “Entered into rest” makes it sound like a choice.
* “Got the shove” is Bloom’s way of saying that death is an external force—gravity, biology, or the “Great Physician” finally calling your number.
* The Poem: He’s trying to remember Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard. It wasn’t Wordsworth or Campbell; it was Thomas Gray. Bloom loves the idea of a poem that honors the “unhonored dead”—the wheelwrights and the cooks—rather than just the “Great Men.”

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Let’s look at the “ant” theory and those classical references.
1. Is Emmet an “Ant”? (Etymology)
You have a sharp ear for linguistics! There is a direct connection between the name Emmet and the insect.
* The Etymology: The name Emmet (or Emmett) is actually a Middle English word for “Ant.” It comes from the Old English word æmette.
* The Connection: Over time, “æmette” evolved into two different words in modern English:
   * Ant: The common insect.
   * Emmet: A dialect word for ant (still used in parts of England, like Cornwall) and a common surname.
* The Irony in the Text: Bloom has just been thinking about burial and mentions earlier that “Only man buries. No, ants too.” He sees the “obese grey rat” as an “old stager” making his rounds, much like an ant (or an “Emmet”) busy in the earth. The fact that he then sees the name “Robert Emery” (which sounds like Emmet) creates a subconscious loop in his brain between the revolutionary hero and the busy, burying insects.
2. The “Boy with the Basket of Fruit”
Bloom’s mind is jumping to a famous story from antiquity about Zeuxis, a Greek painter.
* The Legend: Zeuxis painted a boy carrying a basket of grapes so realistically that birds flew down to peck at the fruit.
* The “Apollo” Confusion: Bloom misremembers the artist as “Apollo.” (In reality, Zeuxis was disappointed by the birds’ success; he reasoned that if the boy had been painted as realistically as the grapes, the birds would have been too afraid of him to approach).
* Why it matters here: Bloom is looking at the statue of the Sacred Heart. He’s wondering if the statue is “realistic” enough. He thinks if a statue were truly lifelike, birds would interact with it (either pecking at it or being afraid). It’s Bloom’s way of testing “faith” against “physical reality.”
3. “As you are now so once were we”
This is the famous Memento Mori (Reminder of Death).
* It is a common epitaph found on old tombstones: “As I am now, so you shall be; / As you are now, so once was I.”
* Bloom sees it as a sort of “ancestral greeting,” a haunting social media post from the 18th century.
4. Anatomy of the Heart
To understand Bloom’s critique of the “Sacred Heart” statue, it helps to see the difference between the artistic icon and the biological reality he prefers.