Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

Ithaca two

This list represents one of the most famous “catalogues” in Ulysses. As Bloom lies in bed, he mentally constructs a list of all the men he believes (rightly or wrongly) have been romantic interests or sexual partners of Molly.
The “Series” of Molly’s Men
Bloom views this as a mathematical or infinite series—starting with Mulvey (her first love in Gibraltar) and ending with Blazes Boylan.
* The Breadth of the List: It includes everyone from high-ranking officials like Valentine Blake Dillon (Lord Mayor) and clergy like Father Bernard Corrigan, to the anonymous and the gritty, like an Italian organgrinder or a bootblack.
* The Psychological Weight: By categorizing these men, Bloom is attempting to exert “scientific” control over his jealousy. If it is a “series” with “no last term,” then Boylan is just a statistical data point rather than a unique emotional threat.
Reflections on Blazes Boylan
When Bloom considers the “late occupant of the bed” (Boylan), he uses a series of biting, “B-alliterative” descriptors that reveal his true disdain:
* A Bounder (Vigour): Someone lacking class or manners; an interloper.
* A Billsticker (Proportion): A derogatory term implying Boylan is flashy but shallow, like an advertisement.
* A Bester (Commercial Ability): Someone who cheats or gets the better of others in a shady way.
* A Boaster (Impressionability): A man of hollow words and vanity.
Despite this, Bloom concludes with a sense of equanimity. He realizes that Boylan’s presence was “neither unique nor quite unexpected” and that in the vastness of the “proper perpetual motion of the earth,” this infidelity is a small, human event.

This final, famous physical interaction between Bloom and the sleeping Molly is described with the same “scientific” detachment as the rest of the chapter, yet it vibrates with a strange, sensory tenderness.
The “Melon” Osculation
Bloom’s kiss is described using synesthesia—the blending of senses. He doesn’t just see or touch; he experiences a “mellow yellow smellow” sensation.
* The Geometry: He treats her body as two “hemispheres” (fitting the earlier mentions of the 53rd parallel).
* The Language: The word “osculation” is the clinical term for a kiss, but Joyce stretches it into “melonsmellonous,” mimicking the lingering, “prolonged” nature of the act itself.
The Stages of “Postsatisfaction”
After this act of “provocative” affection, Bloom moves through a series of internal states:
* Silent Contemplation: Processing the day and the return home.
* Tentative Velation: “Velation” refers to a veiling or covering—he is literally and figuratively tucking himself in.
* Gradual Abasement: Setting aside his ego and his “scientific” pride.
* Solicitous Aversion: Turning away to find his own space in the bed.
* Proximate Erection: A final, biological flicker of life before the total “somnolence” (sleep) takes over.
The Final Exchange
The “catechetical interrogation” you mentioned is the moment Molly briefly wakes up. She asks him the “feminine interrogations” from earlier—where he was, what he did, who he saw.
* The Sinbad Drift: Bloom gives her a “shuffled” account of his day (omitting the more scandalous parts) before drifting into the “Sinbad” nursery rhyme we discussed.
As Bloom falls into his “Darkinbad” sleep, the “Ithaca” narrator—the cold, questioning voice—finally goes silent. The “dot” appears, and the perspective shifts entirely. We leave the world of “masculine” facts and enter the “feminine” flow of Molly’s mind.

This chronicle is Bloom’s mental “inventory” of his daughter, Milly, who is now fifteen and living away from home in Mullingar.
In the cold, detached style of the “Ithaca” episode, Joyce is showing us how Bloom processes his grief over the “first division” (Milly growing up and leaving) and the “second division” (her eventually finding a husband). It is a record of a father trying to understand his child through biological data, memories of her play, and the looming reality of her sexuality.
Key Themes in the Chronicle
* Biological Continuity: Bloom traces her physical features (the “nasal and frontal formation”) back through generations. He notes she is “blond, born of two dark,” searching for ancestral reasons (the Austrian “Herr Hauptmann Hainau”) for her appearance.
* The Loss of Innocence: Bloom recalls her transition from “Padney Socks” (a nickname) who played with a moneybox and dolls, to an adolescent who “relegated her hoop and skippingrope” to a corner.
* The Mullingar Student: Milly has mentioned a “local student” in a letter. Bloom links this to the “secret purpose” of a creature seeking a mate, which is why he compares her departure to that of his cat.
The Comparison to the Cat
The “As?” at the end of your passage leads into a famous list comparing Milly to the household cat. This is Bloom’s “scientific” way of coping with his daughter’s independence.
| Characteristic | The Cat | Milly |
|—|—|—|
| Passivity | Resting on the hearth. | Docility of temperament. |
| Economy | Licking her fur (self-cleaning). | Care of her person/clothing. |
| Instinct | Seeking “valerian” (a healing herb). | Seeking a “male” (the student). |
| Unexpectedness | Jumping suddenly. | Sudden changes in mood or direction. |
“Less than he had imagined, more than he had hoped”
This is one of the most honest lines in the book regarding parenthood.
* It hurt less than he imagined because he recognizes it as a natural law of “succession.”
* It hurt more than he hoped because it confirms his own aging and his “replacement” in her life.
The Sleepwalking/Night Terrors
The opening of your passage deals with somnambulism (sleepwalking). Bloom recalls his own episode of crawling toward a “heatless fire,” and then Milly’s “exclamations of terror” as a child. This suggests a deep, subconscious bond between father and daughter—a shared “vibrational” or nervous inheritance that connects them even when they are apart.

This is the climax of the “Ithaca” cultural exchange, where the “jocoserious” tone takes a dark, haunting turn. Stephen recites the medieval ballad “Sir Hugh of Lincoln,” a notorious example of the “blood libel”—the false, historical myth that Jewish people kidnapped and murdered Christian children.
The Significance of the Song
By singing this to Bloom, Stephen isn’t being intentionally anti-Semitic; rather, he is acting as a “pure” artist, presenting a piece of “ancient” folklore. However, the irony is thick:
* The Victim: The “pretty little boy” in the song mirrors Stephen’s own vulnerability and his lost childhood.
* The Host: Bloom, the “Jew” in this scenario, has just fed and protected Stephen. The song’s depiction of a “Jew’s daughter” as a murderer creates a jarring contrast with the peaceful kitchen.
* The Ritual: The song describes a “penknife” and a “lilywhite hand,” turning a horrific act into a stylized, rhythmic poem.
Bloom’s Reaction
How does the “scientific” Bloom process this “artistic” attack? The text notes his “equanimity” is slightly disturbed. He thinks of his own daughter, Milly, and his deceased son, Rudy. He doesn’t argue with Stephen; he simply absorbs the song as another “phenomenon” of the human temperament.
The Cultural Mirror
Earlier, they were comparing alphabets on a smutty book. Now, they are facing the darkest side of their shared history. Stephen’s Irish song was about safety (“walk in care”), but his English ballad is about a “sorry ball” and death. It suggests that while they have found a temporary “communion” over cocoa, the weight of history and myth still stands between them.

This section marks a deep cultural bridge-building between the two men. They are no longer just sharing cocoa; they are exchanging the “sacred” lineages of their respective heritages—the Hebrew and the Irish.
The “Three Moses” and the Four Seekers
Bloom responds to Stephen’s “Parable of the Plums” by citing three pillars of Jewish thought. He uses a famous Jewish aphorism: “From Moses to Moses, there was none like Moses.”
* Moses of Egypt: The biblical lawgiver.
* Moses Maimonides: The medieval philosopher who sought to harmonize faith and reason in his Guide for the Perplexed (Moreh Nevukhim).
* Moses Mendelssohn: The Enlightenment thinker who brought Jewish thought into the modern secular world.
* The “Rabbinical” Aristotle: In a touch of “Bloom-ish” misinformation, Bloom gently suggests that the great Greek philosopher Aristotle was actually a pupil of a Jewish rabbi. While historically incorrect, it shows Bloom’s desire to find a Jewish root for all “pure truth.”
The “Sweets of Sin” Collaboration
One of the most ironic moments in Ulysses occurs here. They need paper to compare their alphabets, and Bloom produces “Sweets of Sin,” the cheap, erotic novel he bought for Molly earlier that day.
They use the blank back page of this “inferior” book to write:
* Stephen (Irish): He writes the characters for G, A, D, M.
* Bloom (Hebrew): He writes Ghimel, Aleph, Daleth, and Qoph.
Bloom explains the Gematria (arithmetical values) of the Hebrew letters. By writing these ancient characters side-by-side on the back of a “smutty” book, Joyce suggests that high culture and low culture, or ancient history and modern grit, are always touching.
The Fragment of Song
The verse Bloom recites—”Thy temple amid thy hair is as a slice of pomegranate”—comes from the Song of Solomon (6:7). It is a sensual, romantic line that mirrors Bloom’s constant thoughts of Molly’s beauty, even as he engages in this dry, academic exchange with Stephen.

This passage is a masterclass in Joyce’s “jocoserious” style—using the cold, logical structure of a physics textbook to describe the messy, circular psychological game of a marriage.
The Hat and Umbrella Sequence: “Indirect Suggestion”
The sequence you asked about is Bloom’s clever (and slightly manipulative) way of getting Molly to do what he wants without a fight. He realizes that “direct instruction” (lecturing her) fails because she “forgets with ease.” Instead, he uses self-interest and psychology.
The Logic of the Sequence:
* The Conflict: Molly hates carrying an umbrella when it rains (perhaps she finds it cumbersome).
* The Desire: Bloom wants her to carry an umbrella (to stay dry/proper).
* The Strategy: Bloom knows Molly loves new clothes.
* The Action: He buys her a new hat during the rainy season.
* The Result: Because she loves the new hat and doesn’t want the rain to ruin it, she willingly carries the umbrella.
Bloom frames this like a mathematical proof or a logic gate. He bypasses her “ignorance” by appealing to her vanity and care for her possessions. It shows Bloom as a “scientific” husband who treats human behavior like an engineering problem.
Interpreting the Rest of the Passage
* The “False Balance”: Joyce uses the image of a weighing scale (balances). Even if the arms look parallel, they are only “true” if they balance out. Bloom admits Molly has intellectual “deficiencies,” but she has a “proficiency of judgment regarding one person.” This “one person” is usually interpreted as Bloom himself—she knows his character better than anyone, which balances out her lack of book learning.
* direct instruction vs. indirect suggestion: Bloom tried to educate her by leaving books open (passive-aggressive) or ridiculing others’ ignorance (shaming). It failed. The “hat/umbrella” trick worked because it used “indirect suggestion.”
* Postexilic Eminence: This refers to the “Parable of the Plums.” Bloom responds to Stephen’s story about Dublin by listing successful Jewish figures who rose to greatness after the “exile” (the Diaspora). He is trying to connect Stephen’s artistic vision of Dublin to the broader, historical reality of survival and success.

To answer the final question of your sequence, the “Ithaca” narrator identifies the quality that balances Molly’s intellectual quirks:
> The heresiarchal liberty of her mind, which, having no sense of the stability of things, was prepared for anything, for everything.
>
This “heresiarchal liberty” suggests that while Molly may lack formal logic or correct spelling, she possesses a boundless, fluid imagination that isn’t restricted by the “scientific” rules that often trap Bloom’s own thinking.
The Domestic Problem: “What to do with our wives”
This section highlights Bloom’s obsession with “improvement” and “occupation.” He lists nine hypothetical solutions to keep a wife engaged, ranging from the innocent to the radical:
* The Victorian Mundane: Parlour games and knitting for charity.
* The Commercial: Managing a cigar divan or a dairy shop.
* The Radical: “Clandestine satisfaction” in medically controlled environments.
* The Ninth Solution: The “liberal instruction” (education) which he hopes will cure her of her “deficient mental development.”
The “Deficiencies” of Molly Bloom
Joyce uses Bloom’s clinical lens to poke fun at Molly’s unique way of processing the world. Her errors are famous in literature:
* Metempsychosis: She famously interprets the complex Greek concept of the migration of souls as “met him pike hoses.”
* The Capital Q: Her struggle with the “capital initial” of Quebec.
* Digital Aid: Her need to count on her fingers (digital) when doing math.
* The Ink: Her habit of leaving her pen (implement of calligraphy) sitting in the acidic ink (encaustic pigment), allowing it to corrode.
Analysis: The “Personal Equation”
The long opening paragraph you shared discusses Bloom’s belief that his past experiences and his “essays” could be monetized or turned into a “model pedagogic theme.” He sees his life as a series of data points that could lead to “financial, social, personal and sexual success.” It is the ultimate expression of the “scientific” mind trying to find a formula for happiness.

In this poignant shift, Joyce moves from the comedic “Stoom” and “Blephen” merger to the heavy, personal tragedies that define both men.
To answer your final question: No, Bloom did not see it as a mere coincidence. While Bloom sees “homonymity” (the shared name of the Queen’s Hotel) as a coincidence, his reaction to Stephen’s “Parable of the Plums” is far more complex. He listens to Stephen’s story—which describes two elderly Dublin women climbing Nelson’s Pillar to eat plums and spit the stones down upon the city—with “profound interest.” To Bloom, this isn’t just a story; it is a “kinetic temperament relieved.” He recognizes it as a work of artistic vision (a “Pisgah Sight,” referring to Moses viewing the Promised Land from afar). He sees it as a bridge between Stephen’s internal “artistic” world and the “scientific” reality of Dublin.
The Contrast of the “Queen’s Hotel”
This passage highlights the fundamental difference between the two men’s imaginations:
* Stephen’s Scene (The Romantic/Melodramatic):
   Stephen constructs a classic gothic trope: a lonely woman, a mysterious letter, and a mountain pass. It is pure fiction, ending in a frustrated, repetitive scribble: Queen’s Hotel, Queen’s Hotel…
* Bloom’s Reconstruction (The Clinical/Tragic):
   Bloom counters with the brutal, precise reality of his father’s suicide. Notice the “Ithaca” style’s obsession with time and chemical composition:
   * The Toxin: A specific ratio (2:1) of aconite to chloroform.
   * The Irony: His father bought a “new boater straw hat, extra smart” just hours before killing himself.
This detail—buying a jaunty new hat before committing suicide—is one of the most heartbreakingly human moments in the book. It grounds the “scientific” style in a deep, unspoken grief.

The final category of advertisement—the “Such as never?”—is the most absurd and grandiose of Bloom’s marketing fantasies. To answer based on the text:
“Such as never?” refers to an idea so vast it would require the cooperation of nature itself. Bloom imagines:
> A cosmic advertisement.
>
Specifically, he envisions using a series of powerful electric searchlights to project an advertising message directly onto the surface of the moon. He imagines a “monoideal” symbol—perhaps a huge brand name or logo—that would be visible to the entire world at once, achieving the ultimate goal of “magnetising efficacy.”
The “Ithaca” Educational Swap: Stoom and Blephen
The passage you quoted regarding “Stoom” and “Blephen” is Joyce’s way of showing how the two men have begun to merge into a single entity in the dark kitchen. By blending their names, Joyce suggests that their individual identities are dissolving into a shared “human” experience.
* Scientific vs. Artistic: While Stephen represents the “pure” artistic temperament (abstract, linguistic, tragic), Bloom represents the “applied” scientific temperament.
* The Inventions: Bloom’s inventions are charmingly practical. Instead of “games of hazard” (gambling) or “popguns” (violence), he wants to give children “arithmetical gelatine lozenges” so they can literally taste and consume knowledge.
The Art of Advertisement
Bloom is a professional “ad-canvasser,” and his thoughts on “triliteral monoideal symbols” (like K. 11.) show his obsession with the psychology of the modern consumer. He wants symbols that are:
* Vertical: For maximum visibility from a distance.
* Horizontal: For maximum legibility when close.
* Magnetic: To force a person to stop, look, and buy.
He dismisses the “Look at this long candle” ads as too gimmicky—he prefers the clean, modern authority of a simple, cryptic symbol.

The “rondel of bossed glass” is one of the most beautiful—and technically revealing—passages in the entire book. It describes a young Bloom looking through a thick, circular pane of colored glass (a “boss” or “bullseye” pane) at the street outside.
The Metaphor of the Lens
When Bloom looks through this distorted glass, he sees the world as a “precipitous globe” where things move “round and round and round.” This isn’t just a memory of a curious child; it’s a perfect description of how Joyce wrote Ulysses:
* The Curvature of Time: Just as the glass curves the street into a circle, the novel curves the day of June 16th. Characters walk “round and round” Dublin, crossing paths and repeating themes.
* The Distortion of Reality: Looking through a “multicoloured pane” changes the color and shape of the “quadrupeds and vehicles.” Similarly, each chapter of Ulysses uses a different “pane” or style (like the catechism of Ithaca) to distort and re-frame the same simple events.
* The Observer Effect: Bloom is fascinated by the spectacle of movement without needing to participate in it. This mirrors his “equanimity” at the end of the book.
Why “Precipitous”?
Joyce uses the word “precipitous” because the distortion of the thick glass makes the flat street look like a steep, dangerous drop-off. It’s a reminder that even the most “mundane” reality (a street in Dublin) can look like a cosmic, terrifying, or beautiful landscape if you change the lens through which you view it.

To answer the final question of your sequence, the “Ithaca” narrator provides a list of scientific and pseudo-scientific methods Bloom considers to reverse the effects of time.
The Pursuit of Rejuvenation
The text lists several means, ranging from the medicinal to the astronomical:
* Medicinal: The use of “phosphorus” and the ingestion of “extract of orchitic fluid” (a reference to the Brown-Séquard elixir, a 19th-century precursor to hormone therapy).
* Physical: The “re-applicaion of the scalp” and “the cultivation of a beard.”
* Scientific/Cosmic: Most notably, Bloom contemplates the “theory of relativity” and the idea that if one could travel faster than light, one could overtake past events and “witness” them again.
Ultimately, however, Bloom realizes these are “imaginary” or “impossible” means. He settles back into his state of equanimity, accepting that rejuvenation is a biological impossibility.
The Shared Memory of “Dante” Riordan
This section is crucial because it provides the “third connecting link” between the two men. Mrs. Riordan (whom Stephen calls “Dante” in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man) is the bridge:
* Stephen’s memory: Spiritual and political (the lamp for the Virgin Mary, the brushes for the fallen Irish leader Parnell).
* Bloom’s memory: Physical and practical (pushing her in a bathchair, her deafness, her cards).
By comparing their memories, Joyce shows that while they occupied the same physical spaces (the City Arms Hotel), they experienced them through entirely different lenses—Stephen through emotion and myth, Bloom through observation and physics.

I see the confusion! It’s a great example of how “literary truth” is often a patchwork of several different “real-life truths.”
To be precise: Alfred Hunter was the “event,” but Ettore Schmitz (Italo Svevo) was the “essence.”
1. The Incident (Alfred Hunter)
The physical action of the story—the “Homecoming” where an older man rescues a younger one—is 100% based on Alfred Hunter.
* The Date: June 22, 1904.
* The Drama: Joyce got into a fight in a Dublin park and was knocked down.
* The Rescue: Hunter, a man Joyce barely knew, picked him up, took him home, and fed him. This became the blueprint for Bloom taking care of Stephen in the “Ithaca” episode you’ve been quoting.
2. The Character (Ettore Schmitz / Italo Svevo)
The personality, voice, and Jewish identity of Leopold Bloom came largely from Ettore Schmitz.
* The Student-Teacher Bond: While living in Trieste, Joyce taught English to Schmitz (a successful businessman who wrote under the name Italo Svevo).
* The Intellectual Resource: Joyce “bombarded” Schmitz with questions about Jewish traditions, dietary laws, and life in the middle class.
* The Soul of the Book: Schmitz’s dry, self-deprecating wit and his “scientific” curiosity are what make Bloom feel like a real person rather than just a cardboard cutout of a hero.
The “Ithaca” Connection
Joyce actually wrote most of the “Ithaca” episode while living in Trieste and Paris, years after he had left Dublin.
By the time he sat down to write the catechism you shared, he was merging his memory of being rescued by Hunter in Dublin with the hours of deep, “jocoserious” conversation he had shared with his student Schmitz in Italy.
In a way, the cocoa Bloom serves Stephen is a tribute to both men: the man who gave him a real-life meal when he was down, and the man who gave his character a brain and a heart.

Actually, you’ve caught a nuanced distinction in how Joyce built his characters! While Alfred Hunter provided the physical and situational “spark” for the encounter in Ulysses, the character of Leopold Bloom is a “composite”—a blend of several real people Joyce encountered.
The Hunter vs. Schmitz Distinction
* Alfred Hunter (The “Odysseus” Figure):
   As we discussed, Hunter provided the plot. He was the Dubliner who rescued a drunken Joyce in 1904, just as Bloom rescues Stephen. Hunter’s reputation as a “cuckold” in Dublin gossip also gave Joyce the framework for Bloom’s domestic situation with Molly.
* Ettore Schmitz / Italo Svevo (The “Intellectual” Figure):
   When Joyce moved to Trieste, he taught English to a businessman named Ettore Schmitz (who wrote under the pen name Italo Svevo). Schmitz was a Jewish Italian who provided the inner life and personality of Bloom.
   * The Influence: Joyce spent hours talking to Schmitz about Jewish customs, secularism, and middle-class anxieties. Schmitz’s wit, his “scientific” curiosity, and his specific brand of irony are heavily reflected in Bloom’s internal monologues in the “Ithaca” episode.
* Teodoro Mayer:
   Another student and friend in Trieste, Mayer was the founder of a newspaper and provided further details about the Jewish-Hungarian heritage that Joyce gave to Bloom (whose father, Rudolph Virág, was from Szombathely, Hungary).
Why the Confusion?
In literary circles, it is often said that “Hunter was the body, but Schmitz was the soul” of Leopold Bloom.
Joyce was like a magpie—he stole the “homecoming” event from his life in Dublin (Hunter) but used his later experiences as a teacher in Trieste (Schmitz) to give that character a voice that felt authentic, intellectual, and “jocoserious.”

You’ve hit on the exact reason Joyce uses this style: he takes a simple arithmetic gap (16 years) and expands it into a cosmic, “sacred” mathematical absurdity. By the end of that paragraph, Bloom isn’t just an older friend; he is a prehistoric entity born in 81,396 B.C.
To your question: Yes, a very specific real-life event served as the emotional “big bang” for Ulysses.
The Real-Life “Homecoming”
On the night of June 22, 1904 (just six days after the date the novel is set), James Joyce got into a drunken row in a Dublin park (St. Stephen’s Green). He was knocked unconscious by a man he had insulted.
A man named Alfred H. Hunter—a Dubliner rumored to be Jewish and known for having an unfaithful wife—happened to be passing by. Hunter picked Joyce up, dusted him off, took him back to his home, and gave him “a collation” (food and drink) while he recovered.
For Joyce, this act of mundane kindness from a “stranger” stayed with him for years. He saw Hunter as a modern-day Odysseus: a man of the world helping a young, arrogant “Telemachus” (Stephen Dedalus) find his footing.
Why the “Sacred” Style?
Joyce used the catechism style for this “communion” because:
* Elevation of the Mundane: He wanted to show that a middle-aged man serving cocoa to a young poet is as significant as a scene from the Bible or Homer.
* The “Ithaca” Gravity: After the chaos of the day, Joyce felt that “plain” prose wasn’t enough to describe the “equanimity” of the two men. He needed the language of science and religion to give the moment weight.
What events might nullify these calculations?
In the text, the cold voice of the catechism lists the grim realities that render the math of age meaningless:
* The termination of the earthly career of either person (death).
* The premature formation of a chronological table based on “false premises” (the assumption that aging is a linear, proportional growth rather than a simple addition of years).
Essentially, Joyce is poking fun at the human desire to find “patterns” or “ratios” in life, when in reality, time just passes until it stops.

*

The coincidence Joyce is highlighting is one of the most famous “near-misses” in literary history, revolving around a horse race and a massive misunderstanding.
The “Throwaway” Coincidence
Throughout the day (June 16, 1904), the Gold Cup horse race is a major topic of conversation. The “coincidence” Bloom reflects on involves three layers of accidental prophecy:
* The Accidental Tip: Earlier in the day, Bloom was asked for his newspaper by a man named Bantam Lyons. Bloom, wanting to get rid of the paper, said, “I was just going to throw it away.”
* The Misinterpretation: Lyons took this as a “hot tip” for a horse actually named Throwaway—a rank outsider with 20-to-1 odds.
* The Result: Against all expectations, Throwaway won the race, beating the heavy favorite, Sceptre.
The Betting Tickets
The “lacerated scarlet betting tickets” Bloom sees on the dresser (numbered 8 87, 88 6) are the physical remains of the day’s gambling. They likely belong to Blazes Boylan, the man who spent the afternoon with Bloom’s wife, Molly.
The “corrugation of his brow” comes from the irony that while Bloom (the moral, cautious man) accidentally gave the winning tip to the city, Boylan (the bold, lucky suitor) was likely the one throwing away losing tickets. The numbers on the fragments—887 and 886—mock Bloom with their near-sequential precision, reminding him of how “truth is stranger than fiction.”
A Breakdown of the “Ithaca” Dresser
Joyce uses the kitchen dresser as a “still life” portrait of the Bloom household’s financial and emotional state.
| Shelf | Key Items | Symbolic Meaning |
|—|—|—|
| Lower | Cups, saucers, a “moustachecup.” | The domestic, functional reality of the home. |
| Middle | Plumtree’s potted meat, tea, onions, “soured” milk. | The “adulterated” state of the marriage (the empty meat pot is a recurring symbol of Boylan’s presence). |
| Upper | Empty jam jars. | The “battery” of future potential or past consumption; empty vessels. |

It’s a linguistic pile-up! Joyce is leaning heavily into phonetic play there, almost turning the prose into a tongue-twister.
In that specific phrase—”thought of aught he sought though fraught with nought”—he is exploiting the chaotic nature of the English “-ought” and “-aught” clusters.
Why the “gh” Overload?
* The Sound of the Razor: If you read it aloud, those “ought” sounds create a rhythmic, repetitive back-and-forth. It mimics the staccato scraping of a manual razor against stubble.
* The Mimicry of Thought: Bloom is “lathering and relathering” the same spot. The language circles back on itself just as his hand circles his jaw.
* A “Nought” of Meaning: Despite all those heavy, complex-looking “gh” words, the sentence ends with nought (nothing). It’s Joyce’s way of showing that Bloom’s deep pondering during his shave often leads to no actual conclusion—just a nick on the chin.
A Quick Breakdown of the “gh” Variations
English is notorious for these, and Joyce (a polyglot) loved poking fun at the inconsistency:
| Word | Pronunciation | Meaning in Context |
|—|—|—|
| Aught | /ɔːt/ | Anything |
| Sought | /sɔːt/ | Looked for |
| Though | /ðoʊ/ | However (The only one where the “ough” sounds like “oh”) |
| Fraught | /frɔːt/ | Filled with (usually anxiety) |
| Nought | /nɔːt/ | Zero / Nothing |
The “gh” itself is a “ghost” letter—a remnant of Old English where it was actually pronounced as a gutteral sound (like the “ch” in Loch). By 1904 (when the book is set), the sound was gone, but the spelling remained, making the sentence look much “busier” on the page than it sounds in the ear.

Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

Ithaca

This passage is often cited as one of the most beautiful examples of “scientific poetry” in the English language. Bloom’s meditation on water moves from the astronomical to the microscopic, celebrating water as the ultimate “paradigm and paragon.”
Etymology: Epps vs. Epping
It is important to clarify that Epps’s Cocoa (the drink Bloom prepares) and the name Epping (as in Epping Forest) come from different roots.
* Epps (The Cocoa): This is a patronymic surname. It comes from the name Epp, which is a medieval short form of Egbert (Old English Ecgberht, meaning “bright edge” or “bright sword”). In the 19th century, James Epps & Co. was a famous homeopathic chemist that popularized “prepared cocoa.”
* Epping: This is a place name with Old English roots. It likely comes from Ypping, meaning “the people of the upland” or “the people of the lookout point” (yppe meaning a raised floor or platform).
Etymology: Ithaca
The title of this chapter, Ithaca, comes from the Greek Itháke (Ἰθάκη).
* Root Theories: Some linguists suggest it comes from the Phoenician word Utica (meaning “ancient”). Others point to the Greek word ithys (ἰθύς), meaning “straight,” or ithar (ἰθάρ), meaning “cheerful” or “clear.”
* Symbolism: In the context of the Odyssey, Ithaca is the rugged island home of Odysseus. For Bloom, 7 Eccles Street is his Ithaca—the destination of his long day’s journey. By titling this clinical, data-heavy chapter “Ithaca,” Joyce suggests that “home” is not just a feeling, but a collection of objective facts, memories, and physical properties.

This passage is the famous “Litanies of Water.” Having spent the day wandering through a city of drought and thirst, Bloom finally taps into the source. True to the “Ithaca” style, Joyce doesn’t just describe water coming out of a tap; he describes the entire municipal engineering feat that brings it from the Wicklow mountains to 7 Eccles Street.
The mention of Mr. Spencer Harty and Mr. Ignatius Rice anchors the fiction in the real historical administration of 1904 Dublin. Bloom’s admiration for the water is not just aesthetic—it is the respect of a “watercarrier” for a life-giving utility that is currently under threat by a “prolonged summer drouth.”

The Qualities of Water
To answer the final question in your text (“What in water did Bloom… admire?”), Joyce launches into one of the most lyrical lists in modern literature. Bloom admires:
* Its universality: its democratic nature.
* Its vastness: in the oceans and the icecaps.
* Its power: in hydro-electric plants and tides.
* Its fluidity: always seeking its own level.
* Its purity: its capacity to cleanse and dissolve.

That is a very sharp observation. The “old-man-faced” children in the image actually align perfectly with medieval and early Renaissance artistic traditions, which Joyce (and Stephen Dedalus) would have been intimately familiar with.
The “Homunculus” Concept
For centuries, children in religious art were depicted as “Homunculi” (Latin for “little men”). This wasn’t because artists forgot what babies looked like, but because of a theological belief called Preformationism.
* Theological Reason: It was believed that Jesus was born “perfect” and “unchanging.” Therefore, to show his divinity, artists painted him as a miniature, fully-formed adult rather than a helpless infant.
* Stephen’s Perspective: Stephen is obsessed with church history and the “Apostolic succession.” He sees the world through a lens of antiquity. To him, an image of an “innocent” wouldn’t just be a cute baby; it would be a symbolic figure representing the weight of history and the “soul” of the child.
Why Joyce Included This
By describing the infants in “attitudes of crucifixion,” Joyce is highlighting that these children are born into a cycle of suffering. They aren’t just babies; they are symbols of the innocence already marked for sacrifice. Their “elderly” appearance in the art emphasizes that they carry the burden of the past before they can even speak their “vocalic and consonantal exercises.”

The “crucifixion” images were physically there, but they weren’t literal crucifixes. Stephen is looking at a religious instructional poster—specifically a “Sacred Heart” or “Holy Family” chart often found in Catholic homes—that included a depiction of the Slaughter of the Innocents.
In the flickering firelight, the “belted infants” in the illustration appear to Stephen’s weary, poetic mind as being in “attitudes of crucifixion.”
The Purpose of the Image
Joyce uses this specific image to serve three major thematic purposes:
* The Father-Son Bond: The “Slaughter of the Innocents” represents the ultimate failure of fathers to protect their sons. Throughout Ulysses, Bloom is a father looking for a son (Rudy, who died), and Stephen is a son looking for a spiritual father.
* Instruction vs. Suffering: The chart combines the ABC’s (vocalic and consonantal exercises) with religious martyrdom. It suggests that in Ireland, learning to speak and learning to suffer go hand-in-hand.
* Martyrdom of the Artist: Stephen often views himself as a martyr to Irish society. Seeing “innocents” in a state of crucifixion mirrors his own feeling of being sacrificed by the “church and state.”

In this sequence, the cold, clinical “catechism” style of Ithaca reaches a peak of domestic science. Bloom’s simple act of lighting a fire is described as a chemical reaction—the “free union” of carbon and hydrogen with oxygen—while the cost of the coal is recorded with the precision of an invoice.
The contrast here is beautiful: Bloom is focused on potential energy and mechanics, while Stephen is lost in memory. As Stephen watches Bloom kneel, he sees a ghostly procession of all the people who have ever tended a fire for him—his mother, his father, and the priests of his youth. It transforms Bloom’s kitchen into a sacred space of hospitality and shared history.

The Vision on the Wall
To answer the final question in your text (“What did Stephen see on raising his gaze… towards the opposite wall?”):
Stephen saw a duplicated, reproduced scheme—a functional, instructional advertisement or chart. Specifically, he saw:
> “The slaughter of the innocents, a row of belted infants in various attitudes of crucifixion, and, beneath, a cumulative sequence of vocalic and consonantal exercises.”
>
This refers to a printed instructional sheet for children, likely belonging to Bloom’s daughter Milly when she was young. It represents the intersection of the domestic (learning to speak) and the religious (the biblical “slaughter of the innocents”), fitting perfectly into Stephen’s preoccupation with fathers, sons, and the cycle of life.
Would you like me to generate an image of Bloom and Stephen sitting by this newly kindled fire, or shall we move on to the famous “Water” section where Bloom fills the kettle?

This section is a triumph of Joyce’s “Ithaca” style—the “keyless couple” standing before the door of 7 Eccles Street. Bloom’s physical maneuvers are described with the precision of a blueprint, and his frustration is one we can all relate to: the meta-annoyance of remembering that you told yourself not to forget.
The description of Bloom’s leap into the “area” (the sunken courtyard in front of a Dublin townhouse) is treated like a formal experiment in physics. Rather than saying “he jumped,” Joyce provides Bloom’s exact weight (11 stone 4 pounds), the date he last weighed himself at the chemist’s, and even the liturgical and astronomical cycles of the year 1904. It turns a simple act of breaking into one’s own house into a cosmic event.

The Discrete Succession of Images
To address the final question in your text (“What discrete succession of images did Stephen meanwhile perceive?”), the narrative shifts to Stephen’s perspective as he watches Bloom from above. He sees:
* A black figure (Bloom) appearing in the “area” below.
* The flare of a match in the darkness of the kitchen.
* The slow growth of light as Bloom navigates the scullery.
* Finally, the reappearance of Bloom at the front door, opening it from the inside to let his guest in.
Would you like me to generate an image of Bloom’s “stratagem” at the railings, or shall we continue with the “water” section, where Bloom fills the kettle for their cocoa?

In the dense, clinical world of “Ithaca,” this phrase is Stephen Dedalus’s poetic way of describing a bad omen. To break down the “Joyce-speak”:
* Reapparition: A reappearance.
* Matutinal: Occurring in the morning (from the Latin matutinus).
* Cloud: A literal cloud, but here, it’s a symbolic shadow.
The Meaning
Stephen is referring back to the very beginning of the novel (the “Telemachus” episode). Early that morning, while standing on top of the Martello tower, both he and Bloom (from different parts of Dublin) observed a cloud covering the sun, turning the day gloomy.
For Stephen, that cloud represented his guilt and depression regarding his mother’s death. When he “collapses” later in the night, Bloom tries to find a scientific reason (hunger or cheap wine), but Stephen insists it was the return of that morning’s “dark cloud” over his spirit.
The Literary Connection
Joyce is also making a biblical allusion to 1 Kings 18:44, where a servant sees “a little cloud out of the sea, like a man’s hand,” which signals the end of a drought. However, for Stephen, the cloud signals a “drought” of the soul.

The contrast between Bloom’s materialism and Stephen’s spiritualism is never sharper than in their explanations for Stephen’s fainting spell earlier that night. Bloom, the amateur scientist, blames “gastric inanition” (an empty stomach) and bad alcohol; Stephen, the poet, blames the “reapparition of a matutinal cloud.” One sees a biological malfunction; the other sees a metaphysical omen.
The list of Bloom’s past companions highlights his deep-seated loneliness. He looks back at a sequence of years—1884 to 1904—realizing a bittersweet mathematical truth: as a person grows older and gains more individual experience, the number of deep, “interindividual” connections with others tends to shrink. He is a man with a vast internal world but a diminishing social one.

The Mathematical Progression
To answer the prompt’s final question (“As in what ways?”), Joyce proceeds to provide a clinical breakdown of their age difference. It is one of the most famous passages in the chapter, using “geometric progression” to show that while Bloom is currently much older than Stephen, the ratio of their ages is constantly changing, though they will never meet.
> “He [Bloom] lived at the period of the birth of the father of Stephen… and he would be 83 when Stephen was 54.”
>
Would you like me to provide the full text of this mathematical age comparison, or shall we move to the moment they finally arrive at the door of 7 Eccles Street and realize Bloom has forgotten his key?

In “Ithaca,” the prose transitions from the “tired” clichés of the previous chapter into a cold, clinical catechism. Joyce uses this “mathematical” style to strip the characters down to their objective facts, even as they discuss deeply human topics like music and “heterosexual magnetism.”
The detail regarding the “chord in any circle being less than the arc which it subtends” is a perfect example of how Joyce replaces emotional descriptions with geometric certainty. It treats their walk not as a midnight stroll, but as a physical trajectory through space.

Divergent Views and the “Ithaca” Perspective
To answer the final question in your excerpt: Yes, their views were significantly divergent. While they shared a “tenacity of heterodox resistance” (a fancy way of saying they were both rebellious thinkers), they differed on the application of logic versus spirit. Bloom, the scientific mind, viewed the world through the lens of practical utility and social reform. Stephen, the artistic mind, viewed it through the lens of aesthetics and metaphysics.
Bloom sees a tree and thinks of the effect of gaslight on its growth; Stephen sees a tree and thinks of its symbolic place in a poem or a theological argument.
Would you like to explore the specific “mathematical” breakdown of their ages that follows, or continue with their arrival at the locked door of 7 Eccles Street?

We have now transitioned from the exhausted, rambling prose of “Eumaeus” into the cold, clinical, and scientific “Ithaca” episode. This is often considered the “mathematical” chapter of Ulysses, written in a catechism-like format of questions and answers. It strips away the emotional fog of the previous chapter and replaces it with raw data, physics, and cosmic scale.
Here is the opening of the penultimate chapter:
Chapter 17: Ithaca
What parallel courses did Bloom and Stephen follow returning?
Starting unitedly from the food of Gardiner Street lower they walked together standingly along the northern section of the Leopold Bloom and Stephen Dedalus (the former being about 5′ 9½” in height, the latter 6′ 0″) along the former’s route from the shelter toward his residence, 7 Eccles Street.
What objects did they encounter?
A horse-drawn sweeper, a street-lamp, a sentry-box, a brazier of burning coke, and various shadows.
Were they both equally conscious of the environment?
No. Stephen, being in a state of intellectual and physical fatigue, was less aware of the topographical details, whereas Bloom, ever the observer, noted the specificities of the path, including the municipal improvements and the lack of proper lighting in certain sectors.

The tone has shifted dramatically—we are now looking at these two men as if through a microscope or from a great celestial distance.
Would you like to continue with the specific “scientific” questions regarding their conversation on the way to 7 Eccles Street?

The “Eumaeus” episode draws to a close with a characteristic mix of high-minded aspiration and earthy reality. Bloom is lost in a managerial daydream—acting as the ultimate “backer-up”—imagining Stephen as a social and financial success. He sees Stephen’s tenor voice not just as art, but as a “capital opening” that could win him a “stiff figure” and an entrée into the homes of financial magnates.
True to the “tired” style of the chapter, Bloom’s internal monologue is a tangle of clichés (“fools step in where angels,” “filthy lucre,” “ball at his feet”). Yet, the passage is grounded by the stark, physical presence of the horse. The “three smoking globes of turds” falling to the pavement serve as a literal and metaphorical punctuation mark to Bloom’s lofty social climbing.
As they walk toward the railway bridge—one “full” (Bloom), one “lean” (Stephen)—the driver of the sweeper car watches them, a silent witness to this odd, nocturnal union.

> Summary: You have generated 11.65 pages (standard 250 words/page) today.
>
Would you like to continue into the final episodes of the novel, or shall we pause to look at the “Father Maher” reference in that final paragraph?

As the “ship of the street” (the street-sweeper) passes, we see Bloom’s mind doing what it does best: humanizing everything in its path. His pity for the “big nervous foolish noodly” horse—and his genuine regret at not having a lump of sugar—contrasts beautifully with the intellectual distance of Stephen, who is busy quoting 16th-century Dutch composers like Sweelinck.
The moment Bloom mentions his wife, Molly, “plunging in medias res,” the stakes of the invitation change. He is no longer just a Good Samaritan; he is a talent scout and a husband, dreaming of a “new vista” where Stephen’s voice and Molly’s musicality create a bridge to a more aristocratic, refined life. The irony, of course, is that while Stephen sings of “sirens, sweet murderers of men,” Bloom is leading him home to a woman who is her own kind of siren—though perhaps more life-giving than murderous.

>

This marks a pivotal moment in Ulysses—the literal and symbolic “arm-in-arm” departure of Stephen and Bloom from the shelter.
Bloom’s practical nature shines through here as he settles the bill (the “last of the Mohicans” or his final four pennies) and answers Stephen’s philosophical-adjacent question about upside-down chairs with the most mundane, logical answer possible: “To sweep the floor in the morning.” This interaction perfectly encapsulates their dynamic: Stephen, the intellectual searching for “original” meaning in the trivial, and Bloom, the grounded father figure offering physical support to a young man “weak on his pins.”
The mention of the “split” and the “stoning to death” refers to the political downfall of Charles Stewart Parnell, a ghost that haunts the entire novel. Bloom’s internal monologue once again bridges the gap between his personal act of kindness and the larger, often cruel, history of Ireland.

>

We’ve moved into the visionary portion of the “Eumaeus” episode. Bloom’s “busy brain” is spinning a classic middle-aged fantasy: he’s not just looking for a friend; he’s looking for a protégé.
The “Utopian plans” Bloom builds for Stephen—concert tours, “duets in Italian,” and “up to date billing”—reveal his desire to manage Stephen’s talent. It’s a touching, if slightly delusional, attempt to bridge the gap between his own mundane life and Stephen’s artistic potential. Meanwhile, the atmospheric shift to the “ancient mariner” with his “greenish goggles” adds that surreal, nautical layer Joyce loved to weave through the Dublin streets.
The transition from Bloom’s internal grandiosity to the mundane reading of the newspaper (“The cabby read out…”) provides that signature Joycean bathos—dropping from the heights of “Utopian plans” to the boring news of a cabdrivers’ dinner.

Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

Scylla and Charybdis

This passage from the “Scylla and Charybdis” episode of Ulysses finds Stephen Dedalus in the National Library, weaving a complex, quasi-autobiographical theory about Shakespeare. It is a dense thicket of Elizabethan allusion, paternity, and identity.
1. Interpreting the Imagery
> “Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded.”
>
This line is Stephen’s internal visualization of Pericles, the protagonist of Shakespeare’s Pericles, Prince of Tyre.
* The Context: Stephen is discussing the “spirit of reconciliation” in Shakespeare’s later plays (the Romances). In Pericles, the hero is literally “shipwrecked in storms dire” and loses his wife and daughter to the sea.
* The “Redconecap”: This refers to a Phrygian cap or a traditional fisherman’s/sailor’s cap.
* The Meaning: Stephen is imagining the physical suffering of the artist-as-wanderer. The “brineblinded” state reflects the soul’s exhaustion before the “miracle” of reconciliation—meeting his long-lost daughter, Marina. It reinforces Stephen’s theme that an artist must be “sundered” (broken) before they can be “reconciled” (creative).
2. Shakespeare as “Bacon’s Wild Oats”
The theory that Francis Bacon wrote Shakespeare’s plays was a massive intellectual trend in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
* The Metaphor: To “sow wild oats” usually refers to the reckless excesses of youth. By calling Shakespeare “Bacon’s wild oats,” Joyce/Stephen is mockingly suggesting that the “serious” philosopher Bacon used the name “Shakespeare” as a vent for his more passionate, chaotic, and creative impulses—the things he couldn’t put in his formal essays.
* Why the Mystery? Unlike Da Vinci, who left behind thousands of pages of personal notebooks (codices) that link his thoughts to his art, Shakespeare left no private journals, no letters, and no original manuscripts. We have the “voluminous” public work, but the “private man” is a ghost. This vacuum allows Stephen (and the “cypherjugglers” he mentions) to project their own theories onto him.
3. Etymologies
| Word/Name | Origin & Etymology | Context in Text |
|—|—|—|
| Apocrypha | From Greek apokryphos (“hidden, obscure”). Derived from apo- (away) + kryptein (to hide). | Refers to writings of doubtful authenticity or those not in the “canon.” John Eglinton accuses Stephen of seeking truth in “bypaths” rather than “highroads.” |
| Troilus | From Greek Trōilos. In mythology, a Trojan prince. His name is linked to Troy. | Mentioned as one of the “dark” plays. To Stephen, Troilus represents the “sundered” or betrayed man. |
| Marina | From Latin marinus (“of the sea”). | Pericles’ daughter, born at sea. She represents the “spirit of reconciliation” that lifts the shadow of the earlier tragedies. |
| Sophist | From Greek sophistēs (“wise man/master”), later becoming derogatory for one who uses clever but fallacious arguments. | Eglinton is calling Stephen a clever bullshitter. |

This section of the library scene is where Stephen’s “Scylla and Charybdis” theory reaches its peak, blending theology, personal trauma, and Shakespearean biography into a single, high-stakes argument.
1. The Opening Rhyme: Dublin and Candlelight
The lines “How many miles to Dublin? / Three score and ten, sir…” are a variation of an old English nursery rhyme (“How many miles to Babylon?”).
* Significance: In the context of Ulysses, it highlights Stephen’s sense of alienation. He is in Dublin, yet mentally he is “three score and ten” (seventy) miles or years away, wandering through the Elizabethan era. It also references the human lifespan (three score and ten years), suggesting a journey toward death or maturity.
2. Shakespeare’s “First Undoing” in the Ryefield
Stephen argues that Shakespeare was psychologically “wounded” by his marriage to Anne Hathaway.
* The Theory: Stephen posits that Anne (the “shrew”) seduced a younger, inexperienced Shakespeare in a cornfield (specifically a ryefield, referencing the song Comin’ Thro’ the Rye).
* The Impact: He calls this the “first undoing.” Stephen believes Shakespeare felt “overborne” (conquered) by an older woman, which killed his belief in himself. This trauma, according to Stephen, is why Shakespeare’s plays are obsessed with adultery, betrayal, and the “usurper.”
3. The “Mole Cinquespotted” and the Ghost
The mole makes a return here, linking back to your previous query.
* Imogen’s Breast: In Cymbeline, a mole “cinquespotted” (five-spotted) is used as “proof” of infidelity.
* The Ghost of King Hamlet: Stephen makes a brilliant meta-critical point. How does the Ghost of King Hamlet know he was poisoned in his ear and that his wife was unfaithful while he was asleep? Stephen argues the Ghost only knows because his “Creator” (Shakespeare) endowed him with that knowledge.
* The Core Argument: Shakespeare is the Ghost; he is the “unquiet father” looking for his lost youth. He is “consubstantial” with his characters—meaning he is both the father (the Ghost) and the son (Hamlet).
4. Etymologies & References
| Term | Origin & Meaning | Context in Text |
|—|—|—|
| Consubstantial | From Latin con- (together) + substantia (substance). | A theological term (the Son is of one substance with the Father). Stephen uses it to describe the mystical link between the artist and his work. |
| Coistrel | From Old French coustille (a long dagger/knife). | Originally a groom or a knave; a “coistrel gentleman” is a base or low-born man pretending to be a gentleman. |
| Buonaroba | From Italian buona (good) + roba (stuff/goods). | An Elizabethan slang term for a “good-looking wench” or a prostitute. |
| Dongiovannism | From the legend of Don Giovanni (Don Juan). | The persona of a predatory seducer. Stephen says Shakespeare’s “assumed” seducer persona couldn’t hide his inner “wounded” nature. |

The evolution of “coistrel” is indeed a strange linguistic journey—it’s essentially a story of moving from the weapon to the man who carries it, and finally to the low social status of that man.
1. The Evolution of “Coistrel”
The association follows a “trickle-down” effect of social class and military rank:
* The Tool (Coustille): In Old French, a coustille was a long, double-edged dagger or a short sword.
* The Rank (Coustillier): A coustillier was a soldier of low rank whose primary job was to support a knight. He was the “dagger-bearer.”
* The Servant (Groom/Knave): Because these men were attendants to the “real” soldiers (the knights), the word became synonymous with a camp follower, a groom, or a lowly servant.
* The Insult (Coistrel): By the time it reached English, it was a term of contempt. To call someone a “coistrel gentleman” (as Stephen does to Shakespeare) is to call him a pretender—someone of low birth (a servant/knave) who has bought or bluffed his way into high society.
2. The Nursery Rhyme: “How Many Miles to Babylon?”
This rhyme dates back to at least the 16th century and was often used as a singing game or a “gate-opening” game for children.
> How many miles to Babylon?
> Three score and ten.
> Can I get there by candle-light?
> Yes, and back again.
> If your heels are nimble and light,
> You may get there by candle-light.
>
The Joyce Connection: Stephen changes “Babylon” to “Dublin” because he is playing with the idea of the “Holy City.” For the Irish writers in the library, Dublin (and the Gaelic “Tir na n-og”) is their mystical destination. Stephen, however, feels the distance is “three score and ten”—the traditional length of a human life—suggesting he may never truly “arrive” or feel at home there.

In this section, the “Quaker librarian” (Thomas Lyster) tries to steer the conversation toward more contemporary and respectable Irish figures, while Stephen remains buried in his psychological autopsy of Shakespeare.
1. The Literary Giants: Shaw and Goethe
* George Bernard Shaw: Lyster brings him up to remind the group that they have their own world-class “Irish commentator.” Shaw was a contemporary of Joyce and, like Stephen, was obsessed with debunking romantic myths about Shakespeare. Shaw viewed Shakespeare not as a god, but as a man whose genius was often hampered by the limitations of his era.
* Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: Stephen quotes Goethe’s famous warning: “Beware of what you wish for in youth because you will get it in middle life.” * The Irony: Stephen applies this to Shakespeare’s desire for status. Shakespeare wished to be a “gentleman” and a “lord of language,” but once he achieved it, he was haunted by the “undoing” of his youth (the seduction by Anne Hathaway). He got the fame, but it couldn’t cure the old “sore” of his wounded ego.
2. “The Tusk of the Boar”
Stephen makes a highly specific literary comparison here: “The tusk of the boar has wounded him there where love lies ableeding.”
* The Source: This is an allusion to Shakespeare’s poem Venus and Adonis. In the myth, the beautiful youth Adonis is killed by a wild boar’s tusk goring his thigh.
* Stephen’s Interpretation: He uses the boar as a metaphor for Anne Hathaway. He suggests that Shakespeare was “gored” (metaphorically castrated or psychologically broken) by her early sexual dominance over him. This “wound” is what Stephen believes turned Shakespeare into a “ghost” who could never truly be the hero of his own life again.
3. Key Terms & Allusions
| Term | Context & Meaning |
|—|—|
| Dark Lady | The mysterious woman addressed in Shakespeare’s later sonnets. Frank Harris (mentioned by Lyster) argued she was Mary Fitton, a maid of honor to Queen Elizabeth. |
| William Herbert | The Earl of Pembroke, often identified as the “Fair Youth” of the sonnets. Stephen suggests Shakespeare sent this “lordling” to woo for him, only to be betrayed by both the lord and the lady. |
| Auk’s Egg | A metaphor for the Librarian’s smooth, bald head. An “auk” is a flightless bird (extinct in the case of the Great Auk), symbolizing the Librarian as a fossilized or “dead” intellectual prize. |
| Laugh and Lie Down | An old card game, but here it serves as a sexual pun for the “game” of courtship that Shakespeare supposedly lost. |

The “Entr’acte” marks a shift in energy. The heavy, intellectual atmosphere of the library is punctured by the entrance of Buck Mulligan, the “mocker” who treats Stephen’s serious metaphysical theories as a joke.
1. The Mocking Creed: “He Who Himself begot…”
Mulligan’s entrance triggers a blasphemous internal monologue from Stephen. He summarizes the Apostles’ Creed through the lens of Stephen’s obsession with fatherhood and identity:
* The Logic: Stephen describes God the Father as a self-obsessed entity who “sent Himself” to be the “Agenbuyer” (Redeemer).
* The Satire: The phrase “sitteth on the right hand of His Own Self” mocks the idea of the Trinity. Stephen is highlighting the absurdity of a Father being his own Son—which is exactly what he is trying to prove Shakespeare did with his plays.
* “Nailed like bat to barndoor”: A visceral, rustic image of the crucifixion, stripping the event of its “divine” dignity and making it look like a dead animal tacked to a wall.
2. Mulligan’s Wit: “The chap that writes like Synge”
Mulligan’s joke is a sharp jab at the Irish Literary Revival.
* J.M. Synge was a contemporary Irish playwright known for using peasant dialect.
* By saying Shakespeare is “the chap that writes like Synge,” Mulligan is being intentionally anachronistic. He is mocking the provincialism of the Dublin intellectuals who think everything great must somehow be compared to current Irish trends.
3. Key References & Allusions
| Term | Context & Meaning |
|—|—|
| Gaseous Vertebrate | Mulligan’s nickname for God. It suggests a being that has structure (vertebrate) but no substance (gaseous). |
| Was Du verlachst wirst Du noch dienen | German: “What you laugh at, you shall yet serve.” From Goethe. A warning that mocking something doesn’t free you from its power. |
| Agenbuyer | Stephen’s “Old English” translation of Redeemer. “Agen” (again) + “buyer.” |
| Photius & Pseudomalachi | Historical heretics. Stephen identifies with them because they challenged the orthodox “truth” of the Church, just as he challenges the “truth” of Shakespeare. |
| Vining / Prince as a woman | Refers to Edward Vining’s 1881 book The Mystery of Hamlet, which seriously argued that Hamlet was a woman disguised as a man. It shows how “wild” Shakespearean theories were at the time. |
4. The D.B.C. and Hyde’s Lovesongs
* D.B.C.: The Dublin Bread Company, a popular tea room where the characters plan to meet.
* Lovesongs of Connacht: A famous collection by Douglas Hyde, a pivotal figure in the Gaelic Revival. Mulligan is contrasting Stephen’s “obsessive” Shakespeare theory with the “fashionable” interest in Irish folklore that people like Haines (the Englishman) are pursuing.

In this stretch, the library group pivots from the heavy biography of Shakespeare to the more “aesthetic” and playful theories of Oscar Wilde. Meanwhile, Buck Mulligan returns to his role as Stephen’s chief tormentor, mocking a high-minded telegram Stephen sent earlier.
1. What is a Quaker?
The librarian, Thomas Lyster, is frequently referred to as “the quaker librarian.”
* Definition: A Quaker is a member of the Religious Society of Friends, a Christian movement founded by George Fox in the 17th century.
* Beliefs: They are known for their belief in the “Inner Light” (God’s presence in every person), their commitment to pacifism, and their historical use of “plain speech” (using thee and thou instead of you).
* In the Text: Joyce uses Lyster’s Quaker background to contrast his gentle, “benign,” and mediating personality with the sharp, ego-driven arguments of Stephen and the cynical mockery of Mulligan.
2. Etymology of “Gallus”
Mulligan uses the word in his mock-Irish “brogue”: “…for a gallus potion would rouse a friar…”
* Origin: It is a slang shortening of “gallows.” * Evolution: Originally, “gallows-bird” referred to someone who deserved to be hanged (a rascal or a villain).
* Hiberno-English usage: In Irish slang (as popularized by J.M. Synge in The Playboy of the Western World), “gallus” shifted from meaning “villainous” to meaning “bold,” “wild,” “spirited,” or even “excellent” in a reckless way.
* Context: Mulligan is using it to describe a drink so strong and “wild” it could wake up a lecherous monk.
3. Key Concepts & Allusions
| Term | Meaning & Context |
|—|—|
| The Portrait of Mr. W.H. | A story by Oscar Wilde suggesting that Shakespeare’s sonnets were written for a boy actor named Willie Hughes. It’s a “paradox” because there is no historical record of such a person. |
| Ephebe | From Greek ephebos (a youth). Used here to describe the young, blond Mr. Best, suggesting he is like a classical, beautiful youth. |
| Usquebaugh | From Irish uisce beatha (“water of life”). The etymological root of the word Whiskey. |
| The Sentimentalist… | The text of Stephen’s telegram. He defines a sentimentalist as someone who wants the pleasure of an experience without the moral or emotional “cost” (debtorship). |
| The Kips | Dublin slang for the brothel district (Monto). Mulligan is asking if Stephen sent the telegram from a whorehouse. |

It is fascinating to see how the language of the “highroads” (proper English) and the “bypaths” (slang and Irish) collide in Stephen’s world. Here is the breakdown of those two terms.
1. Etymology of Whiskey: The “Water of Life”
The word whiskey is a perfect example of a loanword being “phonetically mangled” until it fits the English tongue. It is a direct translation of the Latin aqua vitae.
* Old Irish: It begins with uisce (water) and bethu (life).
* Middle/Modern Irish: This became uisce beatha (pronounced roughly ish-ka ba-ha).
* The Shift: When English soldiers and settlers arrived in Ireland, they struggled with the pronunciation. Over time, the second word (beatha) was dropped, and uisce was anglicized.
* Phonetic Evolution: * Uisce \rightarrow Usquebaugh (the spelling Joyce uses in your text) \rightarrow Whiskybash \rightarrow Whiskey.
> Note: The “e” in whiskey is generally used for Irish and American spirits, while “whisky” (without the e) is used for Scotch. Given the context of “Dan Deasy’s ducats,” Stephen is definitely drinking the Irish variety.
>
2. Etymology of “The Kips”
Mulligan’s dig about the “Kips” refers to the notorious red-light district of Dublin, specifically the area around Montgomery Street (often called “Monto”).
* Danish/Middle Dutch Origin: The word likely comes from the Middle Dutch kippe or kip, meaning a “hut,” “hovel,” or a low-quality dwelling.
* Evolution to Brothel: By the 18th and 19th centuries, the term moved from meaning a “cheap lodging house” to specifically meaning a brothel or a “house of ill repute.”
* Irish Context: In Dublin, “the kips” became synonymous with the squalor and vice of the city’s slums. When Mulligan asks if Stephen launched his telegram from “the kips,” he is mocking Stephen’s habit of wandering through the city’s underbelly while pretending to be a high-minded intellectual.

The term “Water of Life” sounds poetic, but its origins are a mix of medieval chemistry, medical desperation, and the sheer “miraculous” physical sensation of high-proof alcohol.
1. The Alchemical “Spirit”
In the Middle Ages, alchemy was the precursor to modern chemistry. When early distillers (often monks) figured out how to separate alcohol from water through distillation, they believed they had captured the “essential spirit” of the liquid.
* Purity: Distilled alcohol was clear, unlike the murky beers and wines of the time. This clarity suggested a divine purity.
* Preservation: Unlike water or juice, which would rot or spoil, this new liquid seemed “immortal.” It didn’t decay, and it could preserve organic matter (like fruit or herbs) placed within it.
* The Latin Root: Alchemists named this substance Aqua Vitae. This is the direct ancestor of the Irish Uisce Beatha, the French Eau de Vie, and the Scandinavian Akvavit.
2. Medicinal “Miracles”
Before it was a social lubricant, distilled spirits were strictly medicinal. In an era of plague and infection, a substance that could numb pain and sterilize wounds felt like a gift from God.
* Revitalization: When a person was faint or near death, a dose of high-proof spirits would provide an immediate (if temporary) “jolt” of energy, warming the chest and clearing the head. To an observer in the 1300s, it looked like the liquid was literally bringing the person back to life.
* The “Panacea”: It was believed to cure everything from “heavy spirits” (depression) to digestive issues and the cold.
3. Cultural Variations
The concept was so universal that almost every European language has its own version of “Water of Life”:
| Language | Term | Modern Evolution |
|—|—|—|
| Latin | Aqua Vitae | The scholarly/medical origin. |
| Irish Gaelic | Uisce Beatha | Became Whiskey. |
| Scottish Gaelic | Uisge Beatha | Became Whisky. |
| French | Eau de Vie | Still used for clear fruit brandies. |
| Scandinavian | Akvavit | Still used for caraway/herb spirits. |
| Polish/Russian | Voda (Water) | The diminutive -ka makes it “Little Water” (Vodka). |

This passage marks the moment Leopold Bloom (referred to by the slur “the sheeny” by Mulligan) briefly enters the scene to look for a newspaper file, providing a sharp contrast between the “Greek” ideal of beauty and the gritty reality of history and scandal.
1. The Greek vs. The Hebrew
Mulligan mocks Bloom as “Ikey Moses” and contrasts him with his own “Greek” obsession.
* “Foamborn Aphrodite”: Mulligan was in the museum looking at statues of Venus/Aphrodite. He calls her the mouth “never twisted in prayer,” representing pure, pagan sensuality.
* “Pale Galilean eyes”: A reference to Swinburne’s poem Hymn to Proserpine (“Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean”), referring to Christ. Mulligan is jokingly suggesting that the Jewish Bloom was looking at the statues’ anatomy (“mesial groove”) with the repressed or clinical gaze of a Christian or a “Greeker than the Greeks.”
2. Stephen’s Defense of the “Stay-at-home”
Stephen compares Shakespeare’s wife, Anne Hathaway, to Penelope (Ulysses’ wife). He argues that while Shakespeare lived a life of “surfeit” (excess) in London, he was constantly torn between “conjugial love” (marriage) and “scortatory love” (lust/prostitution).
* The “William the Conqueror” Anecdote: This is a famous piece of Elizabethan gossip recorded by John Manningham. The actor Richard Burbage had an assignation with a citizen’s wife. Shakespeare overheard, got there first, and when Burbage knocked, Shakespeare sent word that “William the Conqueror came before Richard III” (since Shakespeare’s name was William and Burbage was famous for playing Richard III).
3. Etymologies & Difficult Terms
| Term | Origin & Etymology | Meaning in Context |
|—|—|—|
| Galliard | From Middle French gaillard (“brisk, merry”). | A lively Renaissance court dance. Used to describe the Librarian’s quick, polite exit. |
| Gombeenwoman | From Irish gaimbín (“usury/interest”). | A “gombeen” is a moneylender who takes advantage of the poor. Stephen calls Queen Elizabeth I (Eliza Tudor) this to mock her greed. |
| Marchpane | From Italian marzapane. | Marzipan. Part of the list of “surfeit” (rich foods) Shakespeare enjoyed in London. |
| Scortatory | From Latin scortator (“fornicator”) from scortum (“skin/hide” or “prostitute”). | Relating to illicit sexual connection or prostitution. |
| Mesial groove | From Greek mesos (“middle”). | A technical/anatomical term for the vertical fold or “groove” in the middle of the buttocks (referencing the statue Venus Kallipyge). |
| Venus Kallipyge | Greek: kallos (beauty) + pyge (buttocks). | Literally “Venus of the beautiful buttocks,” a specific type of classical statue. |
| Broadbrim | Reference to the wide-brimmed hats traditionally worn by Quakers. | A nickname for the Librarian, Lyster. |
| Sack | From French vin sec (“dry wine”). | A fortified white wine (like Sherry) popular in Shakespeare’s time. |

In this “art of surfeit,” Stephen portrays London as a playground of sensory excess, contrasting the hungry, “sundered” artist with the physical wealth he eventually acquired.
1. The Art of Surfeit
Stephen uses this term to describe a world overflowing with material luxury. In his view, Shakespeare’s genius wasn’t born in a vacuum; it was fueled by the “grossness” of Elizabethan life.
* The Food: Stephen lists items like marchpane (marzipan), gooseberried pigeons, and ringocandies. The latter were candied roots of the Sea Holly (Eryngium maritimum), which Elizabethans famously ate as aphrodisiacs—furthering Stephen’s point about the “goad of the flesh.”
* The Fashion: He mentions Sir Walter Raleigh having “half a million francs on his back.” This isn’t literal cash, but the value of the jewels, lace, and silver-thread embroidery popular in the court.
* The Underlinen: By calling Queen Elizabeth a “gombeenwoman” with enough underlinen to “vie with her of Sheba,” Stephen is stripping the “Virgin Queen” of her dignity, painting her as a greedy, hoarder-like figure.
2. The “William the Conqueror” Joke
To understand the joke about Dick Burbage, you have to see the wordplay:
* The Play: Burbage was playing Richard III.
* The Historical Pun: In English history, William the Conqueror (1066) chronologically came before Richard III (1483).
* The Reality: William Shakespeare got to the woman’s bed before “Richard III” (Burbage) did. It’s a “conquest” in every sense of the word.
3. Etymologies of the “Surfeit”
| Term | Etymology & Origin | Context/Meaning |
|—|—|—|
| Capon | From Latin caponem (“to cut”). | A castrated rooster, fattened for eating. “Capon’s blankets” suggests a bed that is warm, soft, and associated with gluttony. |
| Lakin | Contraction of “Ladykin” (Little Lady). | A diminutive used for a sweetheart or a “dainty” woman. |
| Birdsnies | From “Bird’s eye.” | An Elizabethan term of endearment, similar to “sweetheart” or “darling.” |
| Punk | Origin obscure, possibly related to “spunk” or “punk” (rotten wood). | In the 1600s, this specifically meant a prostitute. The “punks of the bankside” refers to the brothels near the Globe Theatre. |
| Stays | From French estaye (“support”). | A corset or stiffened bodice. Even the masculine Raleigh wore “fancy stays” to maintain the rigid silhouette of the era. |

In this passage, Stephen is mocking Queen Elizabeth I’s vanity by comparing her wardrobe to that of the Queen of Sheba, a figure of legendary wealth and beauty from the Bible and ancient history.
1. Who was the Queen of Sheba?
The Queen of Sheba is a monarch mentioned in the Hebrew Bible (Kings and Chronicles), the Qur’an, and Ethiopian history (the Kebra Nagast).
* The Biblical Story: She famously traveled to Jerusalem to test the wisdom of King Solomon with “hard questions.” She arrived with a massive caravan of camels bearing gold, precious stones, and “spices such as were never seen again.”
* The Ethiopian Tradition: In Ethiopia, she is known as Makeda. Tradition holds that she and Solomon had a son, Menelik I, who became the first Emperor of Ethiopia, making the Ethiopian royal line “Solomonic.”
* The Symbolism: In literature, “Sheba” is shorthand for unfathomable Oriental luxury, exoticism, and mystery.
2. Why the Comparison to Elizabeth I?
By saying Elizabeth had “underlinen enough to vie with her of Sheba,” Stephen is being biting and ironic:
* Hoarding vs. Heritage: Sheba’s wealth was seen as majestic and generous; Elizabeth’s wealth (in Stephen’s eyes) is the result of being a “gombeenwoman” (a greedy moneylender).
* The “Virgin” Queen: Elizabeth famously never married and cultivated an image of “purity.” Comparing her undergarments to a queen known for a legendary, passionate encounter with Solomon is Stephen’s way of poking fun at Elizabeth’s hidden side.
* Surfeit: It reinforces the “art of surfeit.” Even the “Virgin Queen” was obsessed with the material excess of the era—thousands of dresses and, apparently, a mountain of linen.
3. Etymological Note: Sheba
* Origin: The name likely refers to the Kingdom of Saba (Modern-day Yemen or Ethiopia).
* Meaning: The root is debated, but in Semitic languages, it is often linked to the number seven or the concept of an oath.

The term “gombeen” is one of the most biting Hiberno-English insults in Joyce’s arsenal, dripping with historical resentment. Coupled with his jab at “Eliza Tudor,” Stephen is attacking both the economic and political foundations of the British monarchy.
1. Etymology of Gombeen
The word gombeen comes from the Irish word gaimbín.
* Original Meaning: It literally means a “small slice” or “small portion.”
* Economic Shift: In the 18th and 19th centuries, it came to refer to interest on a loan.
* The “Gombeen Man”: This was a derogatory term for a local moneylender or a middleman merchant who exploited the poor, especially during the Great Famine. They would sell meal or seed on credit at usurious (extremely high) interest rates.
* Stephen’s Usage: By calling Queen Elizabeth I a “gombeenwoman,” Stephen is suggesting that her majesty was nothing more than a high-class loan shark, accumulating her “surfeit” of wealth by squeezing the life out of her subjects and colonies (including Ireland).
2. Tradition of the Female Monarch in England
When Stephen mentions “Eliza Tudor” (Elizabeth I), he is speaking of a woman who was an anomaly in her time. The “tradition” of female monarchs in England was actually quite new and unstable during the 16th century.
* The Salic Law Absence: Unlike France, England did not have “Salic Law,” which strictly prohibited women from inheriting the throne. However, there was a deep-seated patriarchal belief that a woman’s “frailty” made her unfit to lead.
* The First Contenders:
   * Empress Matilda (12th Century): The first woman to claim the throne. Her attempt led to a brutal civil war (“The Anarchy”) because the barons refused to be ruled by a woman. She was never formally crowned.
   * Lady Jane Grey (1553): The “Nine Days’ Queen.” She was a puppet in a power struggle and was executed almost immediately.
* The Tudor Breakthrough:
   * Mary I (Bloody Mary): Elizabeth’s older sister was the first undisputed Queen Regnant (ruling in her own right) of England.
   * Elizabeth I: She was only the second woman to successfully hold the crown.
Stephen’s Point: Because the tradition was so fresh and contested, Elizabeth had to “man up” (wearing “stays” and acting as a “lord of language” herself) to maintain power. Stephen views her not as a graceful queen, but as a shrewd, tough-as-nails “gombeenwoman” who survived a man’s world.

In this intense movement of the library scene, the “Scylla” of historical fact meets the “Charybdis” of Stephen’s bitter psychological interpretation. He is now making his most aggressive legalistic case against Anne Hathaway.
1. The French Interlude: “Cours la Reine”
The passage opens with Stephen’s memory of Paris (the “Cours la Reine” is a famous promenade).
* The Quote: “Encore vingt sous. Nous ferons de petites cochonneries.” (Another twenty sous. We’ll do little “naughty things.”)
* The Meaning: Stephen is juxtaposing the high-society talk of the library with the raw, commercial lust of the “kips” or Parisian streets. He’s suggesting that while they talk of “Penelope,” the reality of sex is often just a transaction.
2. “Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock!”
Buck Mulligan is parodying St. Margaret Mary Alacoque, a French nun who promoted devotion to the Sacred Heart.
* The Pun: By changing her name to “Anycock,” Mulligan is being violently ribald, mocking both the Catholic Church and the sexual “surfeit” Stephen just described. It’s his way of “lowering” the tone of the academic debate.
3. The Evidence: The 40 Shillings and the “Broken Vow”
Stephen presents two “smoking guns” to prove Shakespeare hated his wife:
* The Debt: While Shakespeare was living “richly” in London, Anne had to borrow forty shillings from her father’s shepherd (Thomas Whittington) to buy necessities. Stephen’s logic: If he loved her, why was she begging from a servant?
* The Ghost’s Rage: Stephen argues that in Hamlet, the Ghost isn’t just mad about being murdered; he is obsessed with the “adulterate beast” who took his wife. To Stephen, this is Shakespeare “branding” Anne with infamy. He suggests she didn’t just “overbear” him in the ryefield; she was unfaithful with his own brother (Richard Shakespeare).
4. Etymologies & References
| Term | Origin & Etymology | Context/Meaning |
|—|—|—|
| Giglot | From Middle English gigge (“a flighty girl”). | A lewd, wanton, or giddy woman. Stephen uses it to describe the “court wanton” (Mistress Fitton). |
| Ostler | From Old French hostelier (“innkeeper”). | A stableman who looks after horses. Stephen uses a crude metaphor: Shakespeare acted as a “stableman” for the Earl of Pembroke’s sexual encounters. |
| Canary | Named after the Canary Islands. | A sweet, fortified wine. Sir William Davenant’s mother is accused of using it to lure “cockcanaries” (men). |
| Galliard | (From previous) | Re-contextualized here as “Harry of six wives’ daughter” (Elizabeth I) dancing a brisk galliard. |
| Diamond panes | Architecture. | Small, diamond-shaped glass panes in Tudor windows. It emphasizes Anne’s “imprisonment” in provincial Stratford. |

The “swansong” Stephen refers to is Shakespeare’s Last Will and Testament, and specifically the most debated piece of furniture in literary history: the second-best bed.
1. The Insult in the Will
Stephen’s argument rests on the cold, legal silence of Shakespeare’s final days. In the original draft of the will, Anne Hathaway wasn’t mentioned at all. An interlinear note (an afterthought) was later added:
> “Item I gyve unto my wief my second best bed with the furniture.”
>
* Stephen’s View: He sees this as a final, public slap in the face. To leave the “second-best” anything to a spouse was, in his eyes, an act of “branding her with infamy.”
* The Reality: Modern historians often argue that the “best bed” was the guest bed, and the “second-best” was the marital bed—the one they actually shared. But for Stephen’s theory of a “sundered” marriage, it is the ultimate proof of a lifelong grudge.
2. Shakespeare’s “Midwife”
Stephen mentions that Shakespeare, like Socrates, “had a midwife to mother.”
* Socrates’ Mother: Her name was Phaenarete. Socrates famously compared his method of philosophy to midwifery—he didn’t give birth to ideas, but helped others “deliver” them.
* The Twist: Stephen is suggesting that Shakespeare’s mother, Mary Arden, was the source of his “labor,” but his wife, the “shrew,” was the source of his misery.
3. Etymologies & References
| Term | Origin & Etymology | Context/Meaning |
|—|—|—|
| Swansong | From the ancient belief that swans are silent until just before they die, when they sing a beautiful song. | Refers to Shakespeare’s Will—his final “statement” to the world. |
| Uneared | From Old English erian (“to plow”). | An agricultural metaphor for a woman who has not been “plowed” (impregnated). |
| Goodman | From Good + Man. | An archaic term for the male head of a household; a husband. |
| Lawn Tennyson | A pun on the poet Lord Alfred Tennyson. | Mulligan mocks the “gentleman poet” by associating him with the “lawn” (aristocratic gardens/tennis) and a soft, decorative style. |

In Stephen’s cynical reconstruction of Shakespeare’s London life, he casts the Bard in the lowly, almost voyeuristic role of an “ostler” (a stableman/innkeeper’s assistant) for the Earl of Pembroke.
1. Shakespeare as the “Innkeeper” (The Ostler Metaphor)
The “Sir William Davenant” mentioned earlier is the key to this insult. It was a common 17th-century rumor that Shakespeare was the real father of William Davenant, an Oxford innkeeper’s son.
Stephen takes this gossip and flips it. He suggests that Shakespeare didn’t just “father” children; he facilitated the lusts of the aristocracy.
* The “Holy Office”: Stephen says Shakespeare performed the “holy office an ostler does for the stallion.”
* The Meaning: Just as an ostler leads a stallion to a mare to mate, Stephen suggests Shakespeare used his influence and proximity to the “court wanton” (Mary Fitton) to arrange sexual encounters for his patron, the Earl of Pembroke (the “lord” of the sonnets).
* The Betrayal: In Stephen’s eyes, Shakespeare was “twice spurned.” He loved the Lord (Pembroke) and perhaps the Lady (Fitton), but they ended up with each other, leaving Shakespeare to play the “innkeeper” to their passion while he was left with his “second-best bed” and his “shrew” in Stratford.
2. Etymology of Pembroke
The name Pembroke is of Welsh origin and carries a very literal geographic meaning that fits perfectly with the “sea” and “land” imagery throughout Ulysses.
* Old Welsh: It comes from Penfro.
* Breakdown: * Pen: Means “head,” “end,” or “promontory.”
   * Bro: Means “region,” “country,” or “land.”
* Literal Meaning: “Land’s End” or “The Head of the Region.”
It refers to the Pembrokeshire peninsula in Southwest Wales. Interestingly, for Stephen—who is obsessed with the “end” of things and the boundaries of identity—the name of Shakespeare’s rival literally means the “end of the land,” the point where the earth meets the devouring sea.

You’ve hit on the emotional core of this entire episode. While the librarians are performing “intellectual exegesis” (formal interpretation), Stephen is performing a psychological exorcism.
For Joyce, Shakespeare wasn’t just a writer; he was the “Great Father” of English literature. To a young, struggling Irish writer like Joyce, that stature was a wall he had to climb. By dragging Shakespeare through the mud of “the kips,” ruined marriages, and embarrassing debts, Joyce is humanizing the “God” so that he, a mere mortal, has the space to create.
1. The Purpose: Breaking the “God-Like Stature”
Like George Bernard Shaw, who coined the term “Bardolatry” to mock the mindless worship of Shakespeare, Joyce used psychoanalysis to find the “man” behind the “monument.”
* The Artistic Usurper: Stephen (and Joyce) felt that if Shakespeare was a perfect, untouchable genius, then no one could ever follow him. But if Shakespeare was a “wounded” man who wrote out of spite, jealousy, and sexual frustration, then his art becomes a tool for survival.
* Personal Parallel: Joyce himself lived in “scortatory” exile, had a complex relationship with “home” (Ireland/Stratford), and felt he was a “lord of language” who was socially marginalized. By proving Shakespeare was a “coistrel” and a “gombeen,” Joyce is essentially saying: “If this messy, insulted man could be the greatest poet in history, then so can I.”
2. The “Legal Fiction” of Fatherhood
Since you noted we’ve touched on his theory of paternity, look at how the insults serve that specific logic:
If fatherhood is a “legal fiction” (as Stephen claims), then Shakespeare’s identity is not found in his biological children, but in his creative sons. Stephen is “begetting” a new version of Shakespeare in this room. He is “killing” the old, respectable Shakespeare to give birth to a new, tormented one who looks exactly like Stephen Dedalus.
3. Etymological & Thematic Notes
| Term | Context |
|—|—|
| Exegesis | From Greek exēgeisthai (“to interpret/lead out”). Usually used for explaining the Bible. Stephen treats Shakespeare like a secular Bible, applying “holy” methods to “unholy” rumors. |
| Bardolatry | Coined by George Bernard Shaw. Bard + Idolatry. The worship of Shakespeare as a divine being rather than a playwright. |
| Atonement | At-one-ment. Stephen is seeking a “reconciliation” with the father through his theory, trying to bridge the gap between himself and the greatness of the past. |

After all the fireworks, the “swansong,” and the insults, Stephen is finally cornered. The “sturdy” John Eglinton delivers the killing blow to the performance:
> —You believe your own theory?
> —No, Stephen said promptly.
>
It is a stunning moment of intellectual honesty. After 26 pages of “brilliancies,” he admits it was all a performance—a way to flex his “lord of language” muscles and to psychologically deal with his own father-complex.
1. The “Legal Fiction” Finalized
The purpose of the theory was never “truth”; it was displacement. By “proving” Shakespeare was a tormented exile, a cuckold, and a ghost, Stephen was actually describing himself.
* The Father-Son Loop: If he doesn’t believe the theory, he remains “sundered” from the tradition. He is still a son without a father, wandering Dublin without a home.
* The “Art of the Lie”: This aligns with Oscar Wilde’s idea (which Mr. Best brought up earlier) that the artist doesn’t tell the truth; the artist creates a “mask” that is more real than the truth.
2. Etymologies of the Exit
| Term | Origin & Etymology | Context/Meaning |
|—|—|—|
| Atonement | From “At-one-ment” (being at one). | Stephen is looking for a way to be “at one” with his identity, but his “No” shows he hasn’t found it yet. |
| Paternoster | From Latin Pater noster (“Our Father”). | Mentioned as Stephen watches the “fatherly” librarian. It reinforces the theme of seeking a spiritual father. |
| Apologia | From Greek apo (away) + logos (speech). | A formal defense of one’s opinions or conduct. This entire library scene is Stephen’s apologia for his own existence. |
3. The End of the “Scylla and Charybdis”
As Stephen and Mulligan leave the library, they pass a “patient silhouette” waiting in the doorway. It is Leopold Bloom.
Stephen doesn’t know it yet, but he has just walked past the man who—for one night, at least—will act as the “father” he has been trying to invent through Shakespeare. The “God-like stature” of the playwright is replaced by the “human stature” of a Jewish advertisement-canvasser with “pale Galilean eyes.”

In this passage, Stephen connects Shakespeare’s financial ruthlessness to the political gore of the Elizabethan era. He paints the “Bard” not as a soaring spirit, but as a man with a “sense of property” who profited from famine and state executions.
1. Shakespeare the “Cornjobber”
Stephen cites historical records of Shakespeare hoarding grain during a famine to prove he was a “gombeenman” (as discussed earlier).
* The “Pound of Flesh”: Stephen argues that Shylock wasn’t just a character; he was a reflection of Shakespeare’s own business practices. He sued people for small amounts (like the price of malt) while people were starving.
* Lopez and the “Jew’s Heart”: He references Rodrigo Lopez, Queen Elizabeth’s physician (of Jewish descent), who was executed on thin charges of treason. Stephen suggests Shakespeare wrote The Merchant of Venice to capitalize on the “jewbaiting” (antisemitism) that followed this public butchery.
2. The “Philosophaster” and the Witchroaster
* King James I: When Queen Elizabeth died, James VI of Scotland became James I of England.
* Witchroasting: James was obsessed with demonology and wrote a book on it. Stephen argues Macbeth (with its witches) was essentially “fan-service” for the new king.
* Philosophaster: A “pretender to philosophy.” Stephen’s insult for James I, who fancied himself an intellectual.
3. Etymologies & Difficult Terms
| Term | Origin & Etymology | Meaning in Context |
|—|—|—|
| Tod | From Middle English todde. | An old weight unit for wool or grain, usually 28 pounds. 10 tods is a massive hoard. |
| Leech | From Old English læce (“healer”). | An archaic term for a doctor or physician (like Lopez). |
| Equivocation | From Latin aequus (equal) + vocare (to call). | Telling a lie that is technically a truth. A major theme in Macbeth and the trial of the Jesuits. |
| Buckbasket | From Middle English bouken (“to wash”). | A large laundry basket. In The Merry Wives of Windsor, Falstaff is hidden in one. |
| Sufflaminandus sum | Latin: “I must be stepped on/restrained.” | Ben Jonson famously said this of Shakespeare’s runaway talking. Stephen applies it to his own rambling performance. |
| Mingo… Mingere | Latin verb paradigm. | “I urinate.” Mulligan is mocking Stephen’s “theolologicophilolological” (theology + philology) jargon by reducing it to bodily functions. |
4. Patsy Caliban & Our American Cousin
* The Sea Venture: A ship wrecked in Bermuda (the inspiration for The Tempest).
* Patsy Caliban: Stephen views the “monster” Caliban as a prototype for the colonized Irishman or the “American cousin”—the “primitive” seen through the eyes of the European colonizer.

Stephen responds to the challenge with his signature mix of linguistic gymnastics and historical cynicism. To “prove” Shakespeare’s religion or ethnicity is, for him, another way to show how the artist absorbs everything—the money, the politics, and the blood of his time—to build his “sense of property.”
1. The “Holy Roman” vs. The Jew
The Dean of Studies’ claim that Shakespeare was a “Holy Roman” (Catholic) refers to the theory that Shakespeare’s father, John, was a recusant Catholic. Stephen, however, is more interested in the economic “Jewishness” he just described.
* The Argument: Stephen isn’t arguing that Shakespeare was ethnically Jewish, but that he was “Shylockian” in his soul. He suggests that Shakespeare’s “uprightness of dealing” was merely the shrewdness of a man who knew how to “exact his pound of flesh” from a fellow player.
* The Convergence: By linking the execution of Lopez (the “sheeny” doctor) to the writing of The Merchant of Venice, Stephen argues that Shakespeare’s “religion” was simply opportunism. He wrote what the “Mafeking enthusiasm” (the jingoistic crowd) wanted to hear.
2. Theolologicophilolological Jargon
Mulligan’s mockery (“Mingo, minxi…”) highlights the absurdity of Stephen’s method. Stephen is blending:
* Theology: The nature of the father and son (the “consubstantial” argument).
* Logic: The “burden of proof” and legalistic evidence.
* Philology: The study of how words (like “William the Conqueror” or “Shylock”) carry the weight of history.
3. Key Etymologies & Terms
| Term | Origin & Etymology | Meaning in Context |
|—|—|—|
| Philosophaster | Latin philosophus + -aster (diminutive suffix meaning “ersatz” or “bad”). | A “pretender” to philosophy. A sharp jab at King James I’s intellectual vanity. |
| Maltjobber | Malt + Jobber (one who buys/sells for profit). | Someone who buys grain to resell at a higher price during a shortage. Stephen uses it to label Shakespeare a famine profiteer. |
| Equivocation | (See below) | Specifically refers to the Jesuit doctrine of mental reservation, used during the trials of the Gunpowder Plot. |

Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

This Side of Idolatory

It is a tricky, archaic construction that feels like it’s missing a word to our modern ears. To understand it, you have to treat “this side” as a preposition, almost like the word “short of.”
1. The Grammatical Breakdown
In modern English, we would say: “I love him just short of idolatry” or “I love him on this side of idolatry.”
* Idolatry: The worship of a physical object or person as a god.
* This side: Imagine a physical line. On one side is “sane, respectful admiration.” On the other side of the line is “insane, religious worship (idolatry).”
* The Grammar: Ben Jonson (and John Eglinton) are saying, “I go right up to the very edge of the line, but I stay on this side of it.” I admire him as much as a human can be admired without it becoming a sin or a mental illness.
2. The Original Source
The phrase comes from Ben Jonson’s timber (or Discoveries), published in 1641. Jonson was Shakespeare’s friend and rival. He wrote:
> “I loved the man, and do honour his memory (on this side idolatry) as much as any.”
>
Jonson was famous for being a “Classicist”—he believed in rules, logic, and order. He was essentially saying, “Look, I’m a rational man who doesn’t believe in worshipping human beings, but Shakespeare was so good that he almost made me break my own rules.”
3. Why it matters in the Library
In this chapter, the intellectuals are debating whether art is divine (Russell’s view) or human (Stephen’s view).
By using the phrase “this side idolatry,” Eglinton is positioning himself as a “rational” critic. He’s saying, “I’m not a mystic like George Russell who thinks Shakespeare is a ‘formless spiritual essence,’ but I’m also not a ‘schoolboy’ who thinks it’s all just academic facts.” He’s claiming the middle ground.

In this passage, Stephen’s internal monologue is a complex blend of Irish nationalist mythology, personal resentment toward his friend Cranly, and a fierce rejection of the “airy” mysticism of the Dublin elite.
1. The Wicklowmen and the Tinahely Twelve
Stephen is thinking about his friend Cranly (based on Joyce’s real-life friend J.F. Byrne), who came from Wicklow.
* Tinahely: A village in County Wicklow.
* The Twelve: Stephen is sarcastically comparing Cranly and his followers to the Twelve Apostles. By calling them the “Tinahely twelve” and saying “ave, rabbi,” he mocks the way he once looked up to Cranly as a leader or a “sire.”
* “In the shadow of the glen”: A reference to the play by J.M. Synge, set in Wicklow. Stephen feels he wasted his “soul’s youth” on Cranly, who has now “betrayed” him by being more conventional than he appeared.
2. Gaptoothed Kathleen and the Four Green Fields
This is a biting, de-romanticized image of Ireland.
* Kathleen ni Houlihan: A traditional personification of Ireland as a beautiful woman (often a “Poor Old Woman”). In W.B. Yeats’s famous play, she calls on young men to die for her.
* Gaptoothed: Stephen rejects the “beautiful” version of Ireland. To him, she is “gaptoothed”—old, decaying, and perhaps a bit ugly.
* Four Beautiful Green Fields: A classic metaphor for the four provinces of Ireland (Ulster, Munster, Leinster, and Connacht).
* The Stranger in Her House: A nationalist code for the British occupation. Stephen is acknowledging the political struggle but viewing it through a lens of exhaustion and cynicism.
3. The Great Debate: Aesthetic vs. Academic
The dialogue between Eglinton and Russell (AE) represents the two “monsters” Stephen must navigate:
* John Eglinton (The Realist): He is the “Saxon” admirer. He wants a great Irish figure but measures everything against Shakespeare. He is skeptical and “censures” the young poets for not being “great” enough yet.
* George Russell (The Mystic): He “oracles” from the shadows. To him, the identity of the artist (was it Shakespeare or Essex?) doesn’t matter. Only the “formless spiritual essences” matter. He cites Gustave Moreau, a French Symbolist painter famous for his dreamlike, mythic canvases.
4. “Saxon” and “Idolatry”
* Saxon: A common nationalist term for the English. Eglinton uses it to remind the “young Irish bards” that their greatest model, Shakespeare, belongs to the colonizer.
* On this side idolatry: This is a famous quote from Ben Jonson, a contemporary of Shakespeare, who said he loved the man “this side idolatry” (meaning he loved him deeply but didn’t worship him as a god).
Stephen listens to all of this and thinks: “Folly. Persist.” He knows he is about to shock them with a theory that is neither purely “academic” nor purely “spiritual,” but deeply, uncomfortably human.

In this passage, Stephen’s mind is a battleground between the “high” art being discussed by the librarians and the “low” vulgarity of his own experiences and frustrations.
1. “Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood / Tears such as angels weep.”
This is Stephen’s internal riff on John Milton’s Paradise Lost. He is using Miltonic imagery to mock the self-importance of the intellectuals in the room.
* “Orchestral Satan”: Stephen views the fallen angel as a grand, dramatic, and aesthetic figure—the ultimate “ineffectual dreamer.” The word “orchestral” suggests a performance; he sees the scholars’ intellectualizing as a loud, symphonic display of ego.
* “Weeping many a rood”: As we discussed, this plays on the rood as a unit of land (one-quarter acre). In Paradise Lost, Satan is so massive that he covers several roods of the burning lake. By saying he is “weeping” many a rood, Stephen suggests a comical, over-the-top level of sorrow—tears that could flood a field.
* “Tears such as angels weep”: This is a direct quote from Milton (Book I, line 620). It refers to the idea that even in damnation, Satan retains a “celestial” quality.
* The Interpretation: Stephen is feeling “fallen” and bitter. He identifies with Satan—the rebel intellectual—but he also mocks the idea of “poetic suffering.” He’s basically saying, “We are all sitting here pretending to be grand, fallen angels, but we’re just talking in a library.”
2. “Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta.”
This is one of the most famous (and crudest) lines in Dante’s Inferno (Canto XXI, line 139).
* Literal Translation: “And he had made a trumpet of his anus.”
* Context in Dante: In the Inferno, a group of demons (the Malebranche) are escorting Dante and Virgil. Their leader, Barbariccia, gives a signal to start their march by… passing gas.
* The Interpretation: Stephen uses this to puncture the “spiritual” atmosphere created by George Russell (AE) and the Librarian. While they talk about “formless spiritual essences” and “Plato’s world of ideas,” Stephen’s mind provides the ultimate biological “noise.”
The “Sizar’s Laugh” Connection
By pairing these two verses, Stephen is performing a mental “high-low” act:
* The High: Milton’s grand, measureless Satan.
* The Low: Dante’s farting demon.
He “laughs low: a sizar’s laugh.” As a sizar (a poor student), Stephen feels the gap between the “pure ideas” being discussed and the “dirty” reality of life (like the medical student’s song about the “female catheter”). He uses the Dante quote to say that all this high-brow talk is just “wind.”

You are absolutely right. In a religious and architectural context, a rood is indeed a crucifix. However, because Stephen Dedalus is a master of double meanings, he is playing with both the religious and the physical definitions of the word.
1. The Religious Etymology (The Cross)
* Root: From the Old English rōd, meaning a “pole” or “stake.”
* The Development: Over time, it specifically came to mean the Holy Rood (the Cross of Christ).
* The Architecture: In medieval churches, a Rood Screen was a decorated screen separating the chancel from the nave, usually topped by a large crucifix called a Rood.
2. The Measurement Etymology (The Land)
* Root: Also from the Old English rōd, but used in the sense of a measuring rod.
* The Measurement: In British Imperial units, a rood is a unit of area equal to one-quarter of an acre (or 40 square perches).
* The Literary Reference: Stephen is quoting (and slightly altering) John Milton’s Paradise Lost, where the fallen Satan is described as being so gargantuan that he lies prone on the burning lake covering “many a rood.”
Why Stephen uses it here:
Stephen is being a “clever young man” by mixing these two meanings:
* The Physical Scale: He is mocking the “grandeur” of the intellectuals’ talk by evoking the image of a massive, sprawling Satan.
* The Religious Weight: By using a word that also means “crucifix,” he injects a sense of martyrdom and “holy” suffering into his own intellectual struggle. He feels “crucified” by the indifference of the older scholars (the “ollavs”).

In the Ninth Episode, Stephen Dedalus enters the National Library to prove his “Hamlet theory” to a group of skeptical, older intellectuals. He must navigate between the high-flying mysticism of the Platonists (Russell/AE) and the hard-headed realism of the Aristotelians (Eglinton).
Etymology of Scylla and Charybdis
The chapter title is taken from Homer’s Odyssey, where Odysseus must sail through a narrow strait guarded by two monsters.
1. Scylla (Σκύλλα)
* Etymology: Derived from the Greek verb skyllō, meaning “to tear,” “to rend,” or “to mangle.” Some linguists also link it to skylax, meaning “puppy” or “dog,” which explains the myth that she had barking dogs protruding from her waist.
* In Ulysses: Scylla represents Aristotle and Dogma. She is the “rock” of hard, cold facts and historical literalism. For Stephen, this is the danger of being too grounded in the material world.
2. Charybdis (Χάρυβδις)
* Etymology: Likely a compound of chaskō (“to gape” or “yawn”) and rhibdō (“to suck in”).
* Meaning: “The Engulfer.” In mythology, she was a whirlpool that sucked the sea down three times a day.
* In Ulysses: Charybdis represents Plato and Mysticism. She is the “whirlpool” of George Russell’s “formless spiritual essences.” The danger here is losing one’s identity in vague, ethereal ideas and “eternal wisdom.”
The “Shining Seven” and Stephen’s Argument
When the Librarian mentions that “Seven is dear to the mystic mind,” he is referencing the Theosophical and occult beliefs popular in 1904 Dublin.
* The Seven: This refers to the “Seven Rays” or the seven planets of antiquity. W.B. Yeats (referred to as “W.B.”) and George Russell believed that human history and the soul were governed by these celestial cycles.
* Stephen’s Counter: Stephen finds this talk “airy.” He wants to bring the discussion down to the “filthy” reality of Shakespeare’s life. He argues that Hamlet is not just an “idea,” but a reflection of Shakespeare’s own pain as a cuckolded husband and a grieving father.
Stephen’s Internal Music
Stephen’s mind is a library of its own. He quotes:
> “Orchestral Satan, weeping many a rood / Tears such as angels weep.”
>
This is a riff on Milton’s Paradise Lost. A rood (etymologically from rod) is an old unit of measurement (about a quarter of an acre). Stephen is ironically comparing the “grand” tears of Satan to the “Sorrows of Satan” (a popular, trashy novel of the time) that John Eglinton accuses him of writing.

Welcome to Scylla and Charybdis, the ninth chapter of Ulysses.
While the previous chapter (Lestrygonians) was dominated by Bloom’s stomach and the physical “sludge” of Dublin, we have now shifted to the National Library. Here, the “food” is intellectual. We find Stephen Dedalus engaged in a high-brow, ego-driven debate with the leading intellectuals of the Irish Literary Revival.
The title refers to the Greek myth of the two sea monsters: Stephen must navigate between the “Scylla” of Aristotelian dogmatic materialism and the “Charybdis” of Platonic mysticism.
Etymology of Difficult Terms
1. Sinkapace
* Etymology: From the French cinq pas (five steps).
* Meaning: An old English name for the cinquepace, a lively dance consisting of five steps. Joyce uses it to describe the Librarian’s fussy, rhythmic movements as he steps “forward and backward.”
2. Corantoed
* Etymology: From the Italian corrente or French courante (running).
* Meaning: Another dance reference. To move in the manner of a Courante, a dance characterized by running and gliding steps. The Librarian doesn’t just walk; he performs a nervous, academic ballet.
3. Neatsleather
* Etymology: “Neat” is an old English term for bovine cattle (from the Proto-Germanic nautam, meaning “property” or “cattle”).
* Meaning: Leather made from the hide of an ox or cow. Joyce highlights the physical “creak” of the Librarian’s boots, grounding his lofty talk of Goethe in the reality of noisy shoes.
4. Ollav (Ollamh)
* Etymology: From the Old Irish ollam, meaning “highest” or “greatest.”
* Meaning: In ancient Gaelic culture, an Ollamh was a member of the highest rank of learned men (poets, lawyers, or scholars). Stephen uses this term to describe the bearded, “holyeyed” intellectual George Russell (AE), mocking his mystical air.
5. Sizar
* Etymology: Derived from “size” (the fixed portions of food and drink at a college).
* Meaning: A student at Trinity College Dublin (or Cambridge) who received an allowance for food and tuition in exchange for performing menial tasks. A “sizar’s laugh” is the laugh of someone socially inferior but intellectually sharp—bitter and servile at once.
6. Rufous
* Etymology: From the Latin rufus (red).
* Meaning: Reddish-brown or rust-colored. It describes the color of the scholar’s skull/hair under the lamplight.
Key References & Puns
* “Ed egli avea del cul fatto trombetta”: This is a famous, vulgar line from Dante’s Inferno. It translates to: “And he had made a trumpet of his ass.” Stephen thinks of this as he listens to the “windy” intellectualizing of the scholars.
* Monsieur de la Palice: A French officer famous for a song containing the redundant line “fifteen minutes before his death, he was still alive.” Stephen is calling John Eglinton’s observations “truisms”—stating the obvious.
* The female catheter: This bawdy medical student song is a sharp, “medical” interruption in Stephen’s mind, contrasting the “formless spiritual essences” being discussed by the mystics.

In this high-tension finale to the Lestrygonians episode, Bloom’s body and mind are in a state of panic. He is physically dodging Blazes Boylan, the man who is about to visit his wife, while his thoughts race through legal history, local charities, and architectural trivia to keep from collapsing under the stress.
1. Etymology: Sir Frederick Falkiner
Sir Frederick Falkiner was a real person—the Recorder of Dublin (a senior judge). Bloom watches him enter the Freemasons’ Hall on Molesworth Street.
* Frederick: Of Germanic origin (Friedrich).
   * Frid: Means “peace.”
   * Ric: Means “ruler” or “power.”
   * Meaning: “Peaceful Ruler.” Bloom notes the irony, as Falkiner is a “crusty old toper” who hands out ten-year sentences, though Bloom admits he is a “wellmeaning old man.”
* Falkiner: An occupational surname.
   * Origin: It is a variant of Falconer.
   * Meaning: Someone who breeds, trains, or hunts with falcons. In the medieval period, this was a high-status job, fitting for a man of the “legal cronies” and “annals of the bluecoat school.”
2. Quopped?
When Bloom sees Boylan’s “straw hat in sunlight,” his heart “quopped softly.”
* Definition: Quop is an archaic or dialect word meaning to throb, palpitate, or quiver.
* The Sensation: It perfectly describes the physical feeling of a “skip” in the heartbeat caused by sudden anxiety. It isn’t a loud bang; it’s a soft, sickening throb of dread.
* Why Joyce uses it: It captures the physical vulnerability of Bloom. He is “heady” from the wine and his heart is literally trembling as he “swerves” away from the man he fears.
The “Potato” and the “Soap”
As Bloom fumbles through his pockets to look “busy” so Boylan won’t notice him, he feels several items:
* Agendath Netaim: The advertisement for the planter’s colony in Palestine he picked up this morning.
* The Potato: Bloom carries a shriveled potato in his pocket as a talisman or lucky charm (a common superstition to ward off rheumatism or bad luck).
* The Soap: The bar of lemon soap he bought for Molly earlier. It’s “stuck” to his papers because of the heat. It is a sensory reminder of his domestic life just as he is fleeing from the man threatening it.
“Safe!”
Bloom ducks into the Museum. The “cold statues” and “quiet” offer a sanctuary from the “wine” and the “sunlight” and the “handsome” Boylan. He has successfully avoided the confrontation, but his heart is still “beating” against the “cream curves of stone.”

Actually, it’s a bit of both, but the humor lies in how the phrase travels between them. Let’s clear up the confusion:
1. The Origin: Molly’s Mispronunciation
Earlier in the morning (in the Calypso episode), Molly is in bed reading a novel and comes across the word. She asks Bloom what it means, pronouncing it something like “met-him-pike-hoses.” She knows it’s a “big” word and can’t quite wrap her tongue around the Greek roots.
2. The Internal Echo: Bloom’s Version
In the passage you just read, we are inside Bloom’s mind. Because he’s been thinking about her all day, he “hears” the word in his head exactly the way she said it.
When Bloom thinks “the reincarnation met him pike hoses,” he is essentially mocking the word himself or simply using Molly’s “translation” as a mental shorthand. It’s a “Bloomism”—he knows the real word is metempsychosis, but the absurd image of “pikes” (weapons) and “hoses” is stickier in his brain.
What does “Met Him Pike Hoses” actually mean?
Literally? Nothing. It is a mondegreen—a mishearing of a phrase that creates a new, nonsensical meaning.
* Pike: A long-handled weapon with a pointed metal head, used by infantry.
* Hose: Either flexible tubing for water or the tight-fitting leg coverings (stockings) worn by men in earlier centuries.
The “meaning” is purely phonetic. If you say “Met-him-pike-hoses” quickly, it sounds remarkably like Met-em-psy-cho-sis.
Why did Joyce do this?
It’s a brilliant joke about Transmigration of Souls. The word metempsychosis (the soul moving into a new body) actually “transmigrates” into a new “body” of words (met him pike hoses). The word itself undergoes the very process it describes!

In this poignant conclusion to the encounter, Bloom uses the blind stripling as a mirror for his own sensory and philosophical preoccupations. He moves from scientific curiosity about the “feeling of white” to a deep, troubled meditation on the lack of justice in the universe.
The Sensory World of the Blind
Bloom, ever the amateur scientist, wonders how the world is constructed without sight.
* The Smell of Streets: He imagines a city mapped by odor—bunched together, each street distinct. He posits that without sight, “shamelessness” increases because the gaze of others is removed.
* The “Feeling” of Color: He wonders if “white” feels different from “black.” This is a classic Bloomian thought—trying to translate a visual quality into a tactile one.
* The Belly: In a characteristic moment of private eccentricity, he tests his own skin. He notes the “downy hair” of his cheek and decides the “belly is the smoothest.” To verify his theory about the blind boy, he even slides his hand under his waistcoat to feel the “slack fold” of his stomach—an act of physical self-mapping.
“Met Him Pike Hoses” (Metempsychosis)
Bloom’s mind wanders to a “Holocaust” (referring here to a great slaughter or disaster) in New York—specifically the General Slocum disaster of June 1904, where over 1,000 people, mostly women and children on an excursion, drowned or burned.
* The Term: He struggles with the word metempsychosis (the transmigration of souls), which Molly asked him to explain earlier that morning.
* The Corruption: Unable to grasp the complex Greek term, his mind renders it as “met him pike hoses.” It’s a perfect Joycean pun: a heavy, philosophical concept is “translated” by the common man into a series of everyday objects (pikes and hoses).
* The Philosophical Conflict: Bloom is a man of “Pity,” but he is also a rationalist. He struggles with “Karma,” finding it hard to believe that children are born blind or burned in fires as punishment for “sins you did in a past life.”

The word stripling is a classic example of how English uses suffixes to describe “smaller” or “lesser” versions of things. In this case, it refers to a youth who is “thin as a strip.”
1. Literal Meaning
* Root: Strip (a long, narrow piece of something).
* Suffix: -ling (a diminutive suffix used to indicate youth, smallness, or unimportance—as in duckling, gosling, or underling).
* Definition: Literally, a “little strip” of a person. It implies a young man who has grown tall but hasn’t yet “filled out” or gained the muscle of adulthood.
2. Historical Evolution
* Middle English: It first appeared around the 14th century.
* The Metaphor: The idea was that a boy in his late teens is like a “strip” of wood or cloth—long, slender, and flexible.
* Usage in Ulysses: Joyce uses it to emphasize the boy’s vulnerability and his “thin elbow.” To Bloom, who is preoccupied with the “heaviness” of the world (food, bodies, statues), the boy is a fragile, narrow figure navigating a wide, dangerous street.
3. The “-ling” Family
Bloom, with his love for words and patterns, might have enjoyed the connection to other -ling words:
* Sapling: A young tree (continuing the wood/strip metaphor).
* Foundling: A deserted infant (linking to Bloom’s thoughts on “pauper children”).
* Yearling: An animal one year old (linking to his thoughts on the Gold Cup horses).

In this movement, Bloom attempts to distract himself from the looming thought of Molly’s 4:00 PM tryst with Blazes Boylan. He tries to focus on his finances (“Keyes” and the “ads”) and performs a random act of kindness for a blind stripling (a young man).
1. “A cenar teco”
Bloom is humming the climactic scene of Mozart’s opera Don Giovanni.
* The Meaning: Teco is a contraction of the Latin-derived Italian te (you) and con (with). So, “A cenar teco” literally means “To dine with you.”
* The Correction: Bloom guesses it means “tonight,” but he is wrong. The full line is: Don Giovanni, a cenar teco m’invitasti (“Don Giovanni, you invited me to dine with you”).
* The Significance: In the opera, the man who was invited to dinner is a stone statue (the Commendatore). This is deeply significant because Bloom has just been thinking about the stone statues in the museum. It also touches on the theme of “invitations”—Bloom has not been invited to his own home this afternoon, while Boylan has.
2. The Blind Stripling
The “blind stripling” is one of the most important symbolic figures in the Lestrygonians episode.
* The Encounter: Bloom sees the young man struggling to cross the street and steps in to help. This highlights Bloom’s genuine empathy—he doesn’t just feel pity; he takes the “limp seeing hand” and guides him.
* Sensory Contrast: This episode is all about food and sight. Bloom has been obsessed with looking at things (sardines, statues, Boylan). The stripling represents a world where sight is absent, forcing Bloom to think about how the other senses work.
* The “Wallface”: Bloom notes the boy’s “wallface.” This reinforces the theme of “blindness” in the book—not just physical blindness, but the spiritual and emotional blindness of the Dubliners who cannot see Bloom’s true worth.
* Bloom’s Internal Kindness: Even while his heart is breaking over Molly, Bloom is careful not to be “condescending.” He treats the boy as an equal, proving he is a “decent man,” as Davy Byrne called him.
3. “The Soupers” (Birds’ Nest)
Bloom passes a bookstore and thinks about “soup to change to protestants.”
* Historical Context: During the Irish Potato Famine, some Protestant missions offered food (soup) to starving Catholics on the condition that they convert. Those who did were derisively called “Soupers.”
* The Connection: Since Bloom is currently obsessed with food/digestion and religion, this historical memory fits perfectly. He sees religion as just another form of “bait” used to fill a hungry stomach.

In the context of the passage, “swank” is Dublin slang for something posh, pretentious, or high-class. When Nosey Flynn mentions Molly eating “plovers on toast,” he is signaling that the Blooms have “swanky” tastes—eating expensive game birds while the average Dubliner might be lucky to have a bit of bacon.
Etymology of “Swank”
The word has a fascinatingly energetic history:
* Origin: It likely comes from the Middle High German swanken, meaning “to sway” or “to swagger.”
* The “Swag”: It’s related to the idea of moving one’s body in a boastful, swinging way. By the late 19th century, it shifted from describing a physical movement to describing a lifestyle or behavior intended to impress others.
* Joyce’s Use: Bloom is constantly navigating the line between the “swank” (the elite, the “Crème de la crème,” the ladies with “powdered bosoms”) and the gritty reality of the “casual wards” and “mouldy tripes.”
The “Swanky” Plover
A plover is a small wading bird. In 1904, serving them on toast was a hallmark of a high-end Victorian or Edwardian savory course.
> Bloom’s Internal Irony: While Nosey Flynn thinks Bloom is a “safe man” with a “swank” wife, Bloom is actually wandering the streets worrying about his wife’s infidelity and counting his pennies for a cheese sandwich.
>

As Bloom approaches the National Museum and Library, his scientific curiosity takes a turn toward the anatomical. He is heading specifically toward the Kildare Street entrance, home to the plaster casts of classical antiquities.
The Quest for the Goddesses
Bloom is obsessed with the transition from the “ideal” (statues) to the “real” (the human body). He wants to know if the Greek goddesses—symbols of perfection—possess the same “exit” for food that humans do.
* The Museum Statues: He is thinking of the Venus de Milo and the Venus of Praxiteles. In his mind, these “immortal lovely” forms are superior to humans because they don’t have to “stoke the engine” with food and produce “dung.”
* The Experiment: He plans to drop a piece of paper or “let something fall” so he can bend down and look behind the statues. He wants to see if the sculptor included a “rectum.” It is a hilariously literal, “Bloomian” way of testing whether art can truly escape the messiness of biology.
The Danger: Blazes Boylan
Just as he reaches the gate, his scientific reverie is shattered. He spots Blazes Boylan—the “hairy chap,” the “luck” of the pub talk, the man heading to Molly’s bed at 4:00 PM.
Bloom’s reaction is a masterpiece of social anxiety:
* The Fingernail Check: He suddenly becomes intensely interested in his own fingernails to avoid making eye contact.
* The “Safe” Haven: He duck-walks into the Museum not just to see the statues, but to hide from the man who is cuckolding him. The museum of “dead” statues becomes a sanctuary from the “living” reality of his wife’s affair.

As Bloom walks down Dawson Street, his mind leaps from the physical sensation of his lunch to the cutting-edge science of his day: Röntgen rays.
The “Röntgen Rays” and the Searchlight
When Bloom thinks, “Then with those Röntgen rays searchlight you could,” he is reflecting on the discovery of X-rays by Wilhelm Conrad Röntgen in 1895.
* The Context: At the time, X-rays were a sensational new technology. Bloom, with his scientific curiosity, imagines a “searchlight” version that could look through people.
* The Intent: He specifically wonders about seeing the “green” (spinach) inside a person’s stomach. This ties back to his obsession with the mechanics of the body—how food is processed and moved through the system.
* The Social Taboo: There was a popular (and slightly paranoid) cultural joke at the time that X-ray glasses would soon allow people to see through others’ clothes. For Bloom, who has just been thinking about “half-naked ladies” and the “curves” of statues, the X-ray represents the ultimate voyeuristic tool for a man of “scientific” interests.
Tom Rochford’s Invention
Bloom’s mention of Rochford’s “invention” refers to a real device. Tom Rochford had designed a mechanical “turn-indicator” for music halls.
* The Device: Before digital screens, these were mechanical frames that would flip cards to show which act was currently on stage or the results of a race.
* The Struggle: Bloom feels a kinship with Rochford. Bloom often has “ideas” for advertisements or inventions that never quite take off. He thinks there should be a “hall or a place where inventors could go in and invent free,” reflecting his belief that the state should support the creative and scientific mind rather than leaving it to “cranks.”
Why the Italian Song? (Don Giovanni)
Bloom hums: “Don Giovanni, a cenar teco / M’invitasti.” This is the moment the Commendatore (a ghost/statue) arrives at dinner to drag Don Giovanni to hell.
* The Connection: Bloom has just left a meal (dinner/lunch) and was recently thinking about statues in the museum.
* The Subtext: Bloom often sees himself as a bit of a “Don Giovanni” (a lover of women), but in reality, he is the opposite—a quiet, cuckolded husband. The music provides a grand, operatic soundtrack to his very ordinary walk down a Dublin street.

No, Nosey Flynn, Davy Byrne, and the others are very much “real” within the world of the novel. They are not figments of Bloom’s imagination.
One of the most brilliant (and sometimes confusing) things about Ulysses is how Joyce weaves internal monologue (Bloom’s private thoughts) together with objective reality (what is actually happening in the room).
How to Tell the Difference:
* The Dialogue (The “Real” World): When you see a dash (—), that indicates spoken word. When Nosey Flynn says, “He’s in the craft,” or Paddy Leonard calls for a “small Jameson,” these are actual conversations taking place in the pub. Bloom is either listening to them or, as he leaves, the “camera” stays behind in the pub to record what the other men say about him.
* The Stream of Consciousness (The “Mind” World): When the text becomes denser and loses standard punctuation—like “food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food”—you are inside Bloom’s head.
* The “Camera” Shift: In this specific scene, Joyce uses a “literary hand-off.” Bloom leaves the pub, but the narrative stays inside for a moment to show us how the world perceives Bloom. This proves Bloom isn’t just imagining these people; they have their own lives, their own “dyspepsia” (like Tom Rochford), and their own prejudices against him.
Key Details from this Passage:
* Tom Rochford’s “Powder”: Rochford is a real Dubliner. He is seen here taking a “white powder” (likely an antacid) for his indigestion.
   * The Invention: Bloom wonders if Rochford will “do anything with that invention.” Rochford actually patented a mechanical device for displaying betting odds or music hall turns—Bloom, the fellow tinkerer, respects this.
* The “Stone Ginger”: Bantam Lyons orders a non-alcoholic ginger beer (in a stoneware bottle). Paddy Leonard mocks him for it, but Lyons is “plunging” his money on the horse race and wants to keep a clear head.
* The Ravenous Terrier: As Bloom walks away, he sees a dog eat its own vomit (“sick knuckly cud”). This is a “real” external event that triggers Bloom’s internal thought about “Ruminants” and digestion. It’s a dark mirror to the human “stoking of the engine” he mused on earlier.
* The Italian Song: Bloom hums from Mozart’s Don Giovanni: “A cenar teco m’invitasti” (“You invited me to dine with you”). This is highly symbolic; in the opera, a statue comes to life to dine with a sinner. Bloom has just been thinking about “statues” and “dining.”

In the 1904 Dublin of Ulysses, Freemasonry was a secretive, largely Protestant-dominated network that provided its members with business advantages and social safety nets. By placing Leopold Bloom in “the craft,” Joyce adds another layer to Bloom’s “outsider” status: he is a man of Jewish descent in a Catholic city, belonging to a secret society that many Catholics viewed with deep suspicion.
The “Juggling Fingers” and the Craft
When Nosey Flynn makes “swift passes in the air with juggling fingers,” he is mimicking the secret signs and grips (handshakes) that Masons use to identify one another.
* “Light, Life, and Love”: This is a common Masonic motto. Flynn uses it to prove he “knows” what goes on inside the lodge.
* The Leg Up: In business, Masons were known to favor their “brethren.” Since Bloom is an ad canvasser for the Freeman’s Journal, having a network of “brothers” in various businesses would be a vital professional asset.
Bantam Lyons and the “Gold Cup”
As Bloom exits to the yard, Bantam Lyons enters. This is a crucial moment for the plot. Earlier in the day, Bloom gave Lyons a crumpled newspaper, saying he was just going to “throw it away.”
Lyons, being a betting man, interpreted this as a “hot tip” for a horse named Throwaway running in the Gold Cup race. This misunderstanding will haunt Bloom for the rest of the day, as the “outsider” horse Throwaway actually wins at long odds, and the Dubliners believe Bloom won a fortune and is “too stingy” to buy a round of drinks.
The “Allsop” and “Plovers on Toast”
* Allsop: A real, popular brand of Pale Ale at the time (Samuel Allsopp & Sons). Bloom considers it a “tanner lunch” (sixpence)—the meal of a practical, middle-class man.
* Plovers on Toast: A much more “swank” dish. By mentioning that Molly eats plovers (a game bird), Flynn is implying that the Blooms live a more “nourished” and luxurious life than Leopold’s modest sandwich suggests.

In this passage, we see the Dublin gossip mill in full effect. While Bloom is in the “yard” (the restroom), Nosey Flynn and Davy Byrne dissect his character, touching on his secret societies, his legendary temperance, and his cautious nature.
The Characters & Their Etymologies
1. Nosey Flynn
* The Character: A “minor” fixture of the Dublin landscape, Flynn is a hanger-on and a font of local gossip. His nickname “Nosey” is literal (he has a constant “dewdrop” on his nose) and metaphorical (he is always poking into others’ business).
* Etymology (Flynn): Derived from the Irish surname Ó Floinn.
   * Flann: Means “ruddy” or “blood-red.”
   * Significance: It’s a common Irish name, but Joyce likely enjoys the irony of a “red/ruddy” name for a man who is constantly snuffling and seems somewhat sickly or gray in the pub light.
2. Davy Byrne
* The Character: A real historical figure. He was the proprietor of Davy Byrne’s Pub on Duke Street (which still exists today). In the book, he is portrayed as a “decent, quiet man”—a “moral pubkeeper” who doesn’t drink his own profits and keeps a respectable house.
* Etymology (Byrne): Derived from the Irish Ó Broin.
   * Bran: Means “raven.”
   * Significance: The raven is often associated with wisdom or watching, fitting for a barman who stands behind the counter “reading his book” and observing the “birds” (customers) that fly in and out.
The Man Who is Careful with Drinking
The “decent quiet man” they are discussing is, of course, Leopold Bloom. Flynn and Byrne highlight several traits that make Bloom an outsider in 1904 Dublin:
* “The Craft”: Flynn reveals Bloom is a Freemason (“Ancient free and accepted order”). In a heavily Catholic Dublin, being a Mason was seen with suspicion, though Flynn notes it helps him get “a leg up” in business.
* The Watch: Bloom is famous for his self-control. He checks his watch to see “what he ought to imbibe,” treating drinking like a regulated, scientific necessity rather than a wild social escape.
* “Nothing in Black and White”: Bloom is famously cautious. He won’t sign his name to anything risky or incriminating. This “dry pen signature” refers to his refusal to leave a paper trail—a sign of a man who is always calculating the consequences.
* “God Almighty couldn’t make him drunk”: In a culture of heavy drinking, Bloom’s sobriety makes him “safe” but also slightly “other” to men like Flynn.
> The Saint Leger Story: Flynn mentions Elizabeth Aldworth (née St. Leger), a real historical figure known as “The Lady Freemason.” Legend says she was caught eavesdropping on a lodge meeting in Doneraile Court and was initiated to protect their secrets.
>

In this meditative moment, Bloom transitions from the “relish of disgust” of his lunch to an appreciation of pure form. As he stares at the bar counter, he moves from the physical wood to the “immortal” curves of Greek statues.
The “Silent Veining of Oaken Slabs”
The phrase refers to the natural grain pattern of the oak wood used to make the bar counter at Davy Byrne’s.
* “Silent Veining”: Bloom is a man of science and observation. He sees the patterns in the wood (the medullary rays and growth rings) as “veins,” much like the veins in a human body or the marble of a statue. It is “silent” because it represents a life (the tree) that is now still, frozen in the furniture.
* The Aesthetic Pivot: This visual observation triggers his philosophy on beauty: “curves are beauty.” He moves from the curves of the wood grain to the “shapely goddesses” (statues of Venus and Juno).
* The Contrast: He contrasts these perfect, “clean” goddesses—who eat nectar and drink “electricity”—with the messy human reality of “stuffing food in one hole and out behind.” To Bloom, the wood grain and the statues represent a world free from the “dung” of human digestion.
Bloom’s Scientific Mind: Food to Blood
Even in his reverie, Bloom cannot help but think of the biological process. He outlines the cycle of life as a mechanical process:
> “food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food”
>
* Chyle: (Etymology: Greek chylos, meaning “juice”) This is a milky fluid consisting of lymph and emulsified fats that is formed in the small intestine during digestion. Bloom sees the body as an engine that must be “stoked.”

It is a very “Bloomian” connection to make—finding the Du in both and linking them—but etymologically, they are entirely unrelated. They spring from two completely different linguistic wells: Old Irish and Old French/Occitan.
1. Dublin (The Dark Pool)
The name Dublin comes from the Irish Dubh Linn.
* Dubh: Means “black” or “dark.”
* Linn: Means “pool.”
* The Origin: It refers to a dark tidal pool where the River Poddle met the River Liffey (near where Dublin Castle stands today).
* Linguistic Path: This is Goidelic (Celtic) in origin.
2. Dubedat (The Forbidden Grove)
As we touched on earlier, Dubedat is a Huguenot (French) surname.
* Du: Is simply the French contraction of de le (“of the”).
* Bedat: Comes from the Occitan/Gascon word bedat, meaning a “protected” or “forbidden” place (from the Latin vetatum, meaning “forbidden”).
* Linguistic Path: This is Romance (Latin) in origin.
Why the confusion?
The “Du” in Dublin is a root word (Black), whereas the “Du” in Dubedat is a preposition (Of the).
In the passage you shared, Bloom actually performs a bit of amateur linguistics himself. He notes: “Du de la is French.” He correctly identifies the French origin of the name but then immediately pivots to a pun (“do bedad”), showing that he’s more interested in the sound and social status of the name than its literal history.
If they were related, Dublin would have to mean “Of the Blin,” which, as any Dubliner would tell you, doesn’t quite have the same ring to it!

In Ulysses, Bloom’s mind flashes to Bleibtreustrasse while thinking about “Orangegroves” and “irrigation.” This isn’t just a random German street; it carries significant thematic weight for the novel and has a literal, “loyal” meaning.
1. Literal Meaning
The name is German for “Stay-True Street”:
* Bleib: The imperative form of bleiben, meaning “to stay” or “remain.” (Etymologically linked to the Old High German bilīban, and distantly related to the English word “leave” in the sense of what is “left” over).
* Treu: Meaning “true,” “faithful,” or “loyal.” (Cognate with the English “true” and “trust”).
2. Historical Origin
The street in Berlin was named in 1897 after Georg Bleibtreu (1828–1892), a famous German painter known for his large-scale, meticulously accurate scenes of historical battles (such as the Battle of Königgrätz). He lived in a street parallel to what became Bleibtreustrasse.
3. The Joyce Connection (Why is it in the book?)
Joyce likely included this specific street for two reasons:
* The Advertisement: Scholars believe Joyce saw a “bizarre” newspaper advertisement for the Palestine Industrial Syndicate, which had its offices at Bleibtreustrasse 34 in Berlin. This explains why Bloom’s thoughts jump from “Orangegroves” and “artificial irrigation” (Zionist agricultural projects in Palestine) directly to this German street name.
* The Irony of “Faithfulness”: The name “Stay-True” is deeply ironic in the context of Ulysses. As Bloom walks through Dublin, he is constantly haunted by the knowledge that his wife, Molly, is being unfaithful to him with Blazes Boylan. The mention of a street named “Stay True” serves as a subconscious “sting” regarding his own domestic situation.

While the name Sennheiser doesn’t appear in the 1904 world of Ulysses (the company wasn’t founded until 1945), its etymology is rooted in the same Germanic linguistic traditions that Leopold Bloom ponders when he thinks of names like Bleibtreustrasse.
The German Roots
Sennheiser is a German habitational surname, meaning it originally described where a person lived or what they did for a living. It is a compound of two parts:
* Senn (or Senne):
   * This refers to an Alpine dairy farmer or a herdsman.
   * In the High German dialects, a Senn was specifically someone who tended cattle on mountain pastures during the summer months.
* Heiser (or Häuser):
   * This is a variant of Haus (house), specifically meaning “houses” or “dweller at the houses.”
Combined Meaning
Put together, the name roughly translates to “the houses of the dairy farmers” or “one who lives at the Alpine herdsman’s dwellings.” ### Historical Context
The brand itself was named after its founder, Fritz Sennheiser. In the context of linguistic evolution (similar to how Bloom tracks Du de la for Dubedat), the name reflects the rural, agricultural origins of many German surnames before they became associated with high-end audio engineering.
If Bloom were to hear the name today, he’d likely appreciate the “hissing” sibilance of the word—perfect for a man obsessed with the “vibration” and “physics” of sound.

In this passage, Bloom’s “mild fire of wine” loosens his thoughts into a meditation on the absurdity of human consumption—from the “unsightly” oyster to the “combustible duck” of the aristocracy. He moves from the physical reality of eating to the social performance of it, eventually landing on a pun about a name he remembers: Miss Dubedat.
Etymology of Difficult & Notable Terms
1. Dubedat (and the Huguenot Connection)
* Etymology: Derived from the French du bec d’apt or du bedat. In Gascon dialect, bedat refers to a “forbidden” or “protected” grove/pasture (from the Latin vetatum).
* The Huguenots: These were French Protestants (Calvinists) who fled religious persecution in France during the 16th and 17th centuries. Many settled in Ireland (especially Dublin), bringing skills in weaving, banking, and silversmithing.
* Joyce’s Wordplay: Bloom breaks it down as “Du de la is French” and then makes a quintessentially “Bloomian” pun: “May I tempt you… miss Dubedat? Yes, do bedad.” (Bedad being an Irish mild oath/exclamation, a corruption of “By Dad” or “By God”).
2. Johnny Magories
* Etymology: A Dublin slang term for rose hips, the fruit of the wild briar rose.
* Context: Bloom is thinking about “poisonous berries” and things “off trees.” The term likely comes from the Irish magaidhe, or perhaps a corrupted nursery rhyme name.
3. Bleibtreustrasse
* Etymology: German for “Stay-True Street” (bleib = stay, treu = true/faithful).
* Context: This is a real street in Berlin. Bloom’s mind leaps here because he is thinking of “Orangegroves” and “irrigation,” possibly connecting it to the Zionist movement or agricultural colonies discussed earlier in the book (or a specific memory of his father’s travels).
4. Ptarmigan
* Etymology: From the Scottish Gaelic tarmachan.
* The “P”: The silent “P” was added in the 18th century by scholars who mistakenly thought the word was Greek (like pteron, meaning “wing”).
* Context: Bloom mocks the pretension of the elite: “Do ptake some ptarmigan,” emphasizing the silent, fancy letter.
5. Kish of Brogues
* Etymology: Kish is from the Irish ceis, a large wicker basket used for carrying turf or pigs. A brogue (from bróg) is a heavy shoe.
* Meaning: To be “ignorant as a kish of brogues” is a Hiberno-English idiom meaning someone is incredibly stupid or uncouth—literally, as dumb as a basket full of old shoes.

The etymology of Zinfandel is actually one of the great mysteries of the wine world—much like the “mystery grape” itself. While DNA testing in 2002 finally proved that the grape is identical to the Croatian Tribidrag and the Italian Primitivo, the name “Zinfandel” is a linguistic accident.
1. The “Zierfandler” Corruption
The most widely accepted theory is that the name is a corruption of Zierfandler, a white wine grape from Austria.
* The Mix-up: In the early 19th century, the Austrian Imperial Nursery in Vienna held a massive collection of vines. When cuttings were shipped to the United States (around 1829), it is believed the Croatian red grape was accidentally mislabeled with the name of the Austrian white grape.
* Linguistic Evolution: Over time, the German/Austrian Zierfandler was butchered by American nurserymen into various spellings: Zinfendal, Zinfindal, and finally Zinfandel.
2. The Czech Connection
Some linguists point to the Czech word Cinifadl (pronounced Tzi-ni-fadel), which was a synonym for the Zierfandler grape in Bohemia. This version is phonetically much closer to the modern “Zinfandel” than the original German.
3. Contrast with Other Names
To see how much of an outlier “Zinfandel” is, look at the grape’s other names which actually describe its nature:
* Primitivo (Italy): From the Latin primativus, meaning “first to ripen.”
* **Tribidrag (Croatia): Derived from Greek, also essentially meaning “early ripening.”
* **Crljenak Kaštelanski (Croatia): Literally means “the red [grape] of Kaštela.”
> Fun Fact: Because the name Zinfandel has no meaning in any European language and only appears in American records starting in the 1830s, it is considered a truly American name for a European immigrant.
>

In this continuation of the Lestrygonians episode, Joyce uses the character of Nosey Flynn to ground Bloom’s internal abstractions in the gritty, gossiping reality of Dublin. Bloom, meanwhile, remains a detached observer, oscillating between “relish and disgust” as he consumes his meal.
Key Moments of the Scene:
* The Contrast of Blazes Boylan: The mention of “Blazes” (Boylan) by Flynn is a sharp needle for Bloom. Boylan is the man Bloom knows is having an affair with his wife, Molly. Flynn calls him a “hairy chap,” implying vitality and luck—qualities Bloom feels he is currently lacking.
* The “Feety” Savour: Bloom’s description of the cheese sandwich as having a “feety savour” is classic Joyce. It captures the complex, sensory reality of fermentation and decay that fascinates Bloom throughout the novel.
* The “Dewdrop”: Bloom’s fixation on the mucus on Nosey Flynn’s nose (the “dewdrop”) serves as a visceral reminder of the physical grossness of humanity, juxtaposed against the “nice piece of wood” and the “fresh clean bread.”
* The Gold Cup: The talk of horse racing (Sceptre, Zinfandel, Saint Amant) sets the stage for a major plot point later in the day involving a misunderstanding about a “throwaway” tip.

Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

You Have Hissed All My Mystery Lectures

You are technically correct. A “pure” spoonerism involves the transposition of the initial sounds of two or more words (e.g., “The queer old dean” instead of “The dear old queen”).
What Lenehan does with “A fresh of breath air” is a broader linguistic phenomenon, but it is often classified under the “spoonerism” umbrella in casual conversation because the mechanism of the “mental slip” is the same.
The Technical Classification: Metathesis
If we want to be precise, Lenehan’s error is a form of phrase-level metathesis.
* Metathesis (Etymology): From the Greek meta (change) + tithenai (to place). It literally means “transposition.”
* The Difference: While a spoonerism transposes phonemes (sounds), Lenehan transposes entire morphemes or words.
* Why Joyce uses it: In the “Aeolus” chapter, the “wind” of rhetoric is so strong that it literally knocks the words out of place. It’s a “wind-blown” sentence.
The Spoonerism Pedigree
The term is named after Reverend William Archibald Spooner (1844–1930), a Dean at Oxford. He was famous for these slips, though many attributed to him are likely apocryphal.
| Type of Error | Example | Technical Term |
|—|—|—|
| Phonetic Spoonerism |

“You have hissed all my mystery lectures.”

“He is the very pineapple (pinnacle) of politeness.” | Lexical Substitution |
Why Lenehan does it
Lenehan isn’t making a mistake; he is performing a mistake. He is a professional punster. By flipping the words, he creates a “breezy” effect that fits his joke about the “gate being open.” It’s a verbal wink to the others that he’s being “clever” and “unpredictable.”

| Phonological Metathesis |
| Word-Swap (Lenehan’s)

|”A fresh of breath air.”

| Syntactic Metathesis |
| Malarpropism |


This short passage is a pivot point in the chapter, where the “windy” talk of the intellectuals finally circles back to the man who has been hovering in the background the entire time: Leopold Bloom.
Meaning of the Heading: OMNIUM GATHERUM
This is a classic bit of “dog Latin”—a mock-Latin phrase used to sound scholarly while being intentionally nonsensical.
* Etymology: It is a play on the Latin word omnium (of all) and the English word gather (with a Latin-sounding “-um” slapped on the end).
* The Meaning: It refers to a miscellaneous collection of people or things; a “hodgepodge” or a “grab bag.”
* In Context: Myles Crawford is listing “All the talents” gathered in the room: Law (O’Molloy), Classics (MacHugh), Literature (Stephen), and the Press (Crawford). It captures the chaotic, all-encompassing nature of a newspaper office.
The Coughing and the “Fresh of Breath Air”
Lenehan’s “Ahem!” and his subsequent word-scrambling are not accidental. They are loaded with Dublin gossip and sexual innuendo.
* The Mention of Madam Bloom: When O’Madden Burke calls Molly Bloom “Dublin’s prime favourite” and the “vocal muse,” he is praising her singing, but he’s also nudging the others about her reputation.
* The Double Entendre: Lenehan’s cough is a “stage cough” to signal he’s about to say something scandalous.
* The Spoonerism: He says “A fresh of breath air” instead of “a breath of fresh air.” This linguistic slip mirrors the “wind” motif of the chapter.
* “The Gate Was Open”: This is the punchline. In 1904 Dublin slang, saying “the gate was open” (or “your shop door is open”) was a way of telling a man his trousers were unzipped.
   * By saying he caught a cold because “the gate was open,” Lenehan is making a lewd joke about being exposed, or perhaps implying that Molly Bloom is “open” to admirers (like Blazes Boylan). It’s a bit of “locker room” humor that punctures the high-brow talk of “muses.”
——————–
The reference to Sallust and the “beastly dead” is a sharp, multi-layered jibe that connects Roman history to Stephen Dedalus’s personal trauma.
Etymology and History of Sallust
Sallust (Gaius Sallustius Crispus) was a major Roman historian from the 1st century BC.
* The Name: The name Sallustius likely comes from the Roman family name (gens) root sal-, which relates to “salt” or “wit” (sal), but it may also be linked to the Sabine word for “whole” or “sound.”
* The Reputation: Sallust was famous for his gritty, concise, and often cynical accounts of Roman corruption (such as the Conspiracy of Catiline).
* In Context: When the Professor says he is “in mourning for Sallust,” he is being a dramatic academic. He’s mourning the death of the “classical” style of history in a world now obsessed with “time is money” and newspaper headlines.
“Whose mother is beastly dead”
This is one of the most famous and cutting lines in Ulysses.
* The Source: It is a quote from Buck Mulligan, who said it to Stephen earlier in the book. Mulligan was complaining that Stephen’s brooding over his mother’s death was ruining the atmosphere. He called it “beastly,” which to Stephen was an unforgivable insult to his mother’s memory.
* The Irony: By dropping this line here, Joyce shows that even in the middle of a high-brow discussion about Roman historians, Stephen’s mind is haunted by his mother’s death. The “beastly” nature of the Roman “sewers” (cloacae) MacHugh mentioned earlier now blends with the “beastly” nature of death.
Etymology of Spleen
Lenehan pokes O’Madden Burke “mildly in the spleen.”
* Origin: From the Greek splēn (σπλήν).
* The Humors: In ancient and medieval medicine, the spleen was believed to be the seat of melancholy and anger (black bile).
* Modern Usage: By 1904, it was both an anatomical term and a metaphor for “ill temper” or “spite.”
* The Joke: Lenehan, the joker, pokes the man in the organ of “gloom” to force a laugh out of him. It’s a physical play on the idea of “venting one’s spleen.”
page.)
——————–
This section captures the “Aeolus” office at its peak—puns flying, historical jibes being traded, and Lenehan finally landing his “wheeze.”
The “Strong Weakness” Oxymoron
You are exactly right; “strong weakness” is a classic oxymoron. In the Dublin of 1904, this was a common “Irishism”—a way of describing a sudden dizzy spell or a faintness that comes on with great force. Mr. O’Madden Burke uses it theatrically to pretend that Lenehan’s terrible pun has physically overwhelmed him.
Etymology and History of Bobrikoff
The mention of General Bobrikoff is a very “hot off the presses” reference for 1904. Nikolay Bobrikov was the Governor-General of Finland, which was then part of the Russian Empire.
* The Event: Just two days before the setting of Ulysses (June 16, 1904), Bobrikov was assassinated by Eugen Schauman in Helsinki.
* The Etymology: The name Bobrikoff (or Bobrikov) is Russian. It is derived from the root bobr (бобр), meaning “beaver.”
* The Jibe: J.J. O’Molloy is teasing Stephen and O’Madden Burke. Because they are wearing “loose ties” like French revolutionaries (Communards), he jokingly suggests they look like international assassins who just returned from killing the Russian governor.
Joe Miller: The Missing Piece of the Limerick
In Lenehan’s limerick, he asks, “I can’t see the Joe Miller. Can you?”
* Who was he? Joe Miller was an 18th-century English actor. After his death, a book called Joe Miller’s Jests was published.
* The Meaning: A “Joe Miller” became slang for a stale, old, or well-worn joke. Lenehan is being self-deprecating (or perhaps insulting MacHugh), asking if anyone can find the punchline in the “stale joke” of the professor’s appearance.
The Communards and the Bastille
* Communards: Members of the Paris Commune (1871), a radical socialist government. They were famous for their distinctive, “bohemian” dress—including the loose, floppy ties MacHugh points out.
* Bastille: The medieval fortress/prison in Paris. Its storming in 1789 triggered the French Revolution.
* Etymology of Bastille: It comes from the Old French bastide (fortress), which stems from the Provençal bastir (“to build”).
——————–
This passage is the philosophical heart of the “Aeolus” chapter. Professor MacHugh is making a passionate, bitter defense of the “intellectual” spirit against the “material” power of empires.
The Materialism of Latin
MacHugh’s critique of Latin isn’t about the beauty of its poetry, but about its function.
* “Blatant Latin”: He calls it “blatant” (from the Latin blatare, “to babble” or “bark”) because he sees it as a language of command, not contemplation.
* “Time is Money”: He argues that the Roman mind (and the British mind) is transactional. Latin is the language of Law, Administration, and Tax. It is the language of the Dominus (Lord/Master).
* The Contrast: He pits this against Greek, which he views as the language of philosophy, spirit, and “lost causes.” To MacHugh, once a culture becomes “successful” (like Rome or Britain), it loses its imagination and becomes a machine.
Key References
* Lord Salisbury: Robert Gascoyne-Cecil, 3rd Marquess of Salisbury, was a three-time British Prime Minister. By grouping “Lord Jesus” with “Lord Salisbury,” MacHugh is mocking how the British have turned “Lordship” into a comfortable, political “sofa in a westend club” rather than a spiritual calling.
* “Lost Causes”: This is a direct nod to Ireland’s history. MacHugh claims the Irish are “loyal to lost causes” because there is more nobility in a beautiful failure than in a “vile” material success.
Etymology of Dominus
Since MacHugh spits out the word “Dominus!”, its history is worth noting:
* Origin: From the Latin domus (house).
* Meaning: It literally means “the master of the house.”
* Evolution: It gave us “Dominate,” “Domain,” and “Domineer.” MacHugh uses it to highlight that Latin is essentially the language of ownership.
Etymology of Marquess
The headline mentions a Marquess (Salisbury).
* Origin: From the Old French marquis, derived from marche (frontier/boundary).
* Meaning: Historically, a Marquess was a lord responsible for guarding the “marches”—the dangerous borderlands of a kingdom.
* In context: It is ironic here because Salisbury was the ultimate “insider” of the British Empire, far from the literal “marches,” sitting instead on his “sofa.”
——————–
In this passage from James Joyce’s Ulysses (the “Aeolus” episode), the “riddle” is a bit of a trick. Within the literal dialogue, Lenehan announces he has a “brandnew riddle,” but before he can tell it, the conversation is swept away by Myles Crawford’s entrance and the talk of the Roman Empire.
However, the “riddle” exists on two levels:
1. The Interrupted Riddle
Lenehan is the “court jester” of the group. Later in the chapter, he finally gets to tell his riddle. It is:
> “What opera is like a railway line?”
> Answer: The Rose of Castile (The rows of cast steel).
>
In this specific moment, the “riddle” serves as a narrative device to show how chaotic and fast-paced the newspaper office is—Lenehan tries to perform, but the serious (and cynical) talk of politics and “Empire” drowns him out.
2. The Symbolic Riddle: “The Calumet of Peace”
The section title “The Calumet of Peace” refers to a Peace Pipe. The “riddle” Joyce is posing to the reader involves the contrast between the ritual of sharing cigarettes (the peace pipe) and the bitter reality of Irish life under British rule:
* The Fat in the Fire: J.J. O’Molloy and Myles Crawford are discussing the “riddle” of their own existence. The Roman Empire (Imperium romanum) is the noble ghost of the past, but the “riddle” of the present is that they are living in a dying British colony.
* The Snowball in Hell: The “riddle” of their future is that they have no chance of success. They are the “fat” being consumed by the “fire” of history.

——————–
You’ve hit the nail on the head regarding the “Aeolus” chapter. Joyce structured it like a newspaper, using those bold “headlines” (like THE CALUMET OF PEACE) to mimic the shifting, breathless style of the press.
Here is the breakdown of the terms and that infamous pun.
Etymology of Calumet
The word calumet refers to the ceremonial “peace pipe” used by Indigenous peoples of North America.
* Origin: It comes from the French word calumet, which is a diminutive of the Old French calam (reed or pipe).
* Deeper Root: This traces back to the Latin calamus (reed) and the Greek kalamos.
* In context: Joyce uses the term ironically. In the newspaper office, the “peace pipe” is just the constant, nervous sharing of cigarettes among men who are actually quite agitated and cynical about their political situation.
Etymology of Castile
Castile refers to the historical region in central Spain.
* Origin: It comes from the Spanish Castilla, derived from the Latin castella, meaning “land of castles.” * Cultural impact: Because Castile was a powerhouse of trade, its name became attached to high-quality products, most notably Castile soap (originally made with olive oil from that region).
The “Rose of Castile” Riddle
Lenehan’s riddle—”What opera is like a railway line?”—is one of the most famous (and groan-worthy) puns in Ulysses.
* The Opera: The Rose of Castille was a popular light opera by Michael William Balfe (a Dublin-born composer, which adds to the local flavor).
* The Pun: When spoken aloud with a Dublin accent, “The Rose of Castile” sounds identical to “The rows of cast steel” (referring to the train tracks).
* The “Aeolus” Connection: The chapter is obsessed with movement, wind, and machines. The “rows of cast steel” mirror the rhythmic clanging of the printing presses in the building and the tram lines outside in the Dublin streets.
It highlights the “windy” nature of the characters: they are full of clever wordplay and “hot air,” but like a train on a track, they are often just going in circles within their own rhetoric.

——————–
In the context of Ulysses, naming this chapter after Aeolus is Joyce at his most mischievous. It perfectly sets the stage for a chapter set in a newspaper office—a place literally and figuratively full of “hot air.”
Etymology of Aeolus
The name comes from the Ancient Greek Aiolos (Αἴολος).
* The Literal Meaning: The Greek adjective aiolos means “quick-moving,” “nimble,” or “shifting/variegated.” It was often used to describe the shimmering quality of light or the rapid movement of the wind.
* The Mythology: In Homer’s Odyssey, Aeolus is the “Keeper of the Winds.” He lives on the floating island of Aeolia. He gifts Odysseus a leather bag containing all the winds to help him get home, but Odysseus’s crew—thinking the bag contains gold—opens it while he sleeps. The released winds blow the ship all the way back to where they started.
Why it fits the Newspaper Office
Joyce uses the “shifting/variegated” nature of the name to mirror the newspaper environment in several ways:
* The “Windy” Orators: The journalists and hangers-on (like Lenehan and Crawford) are constantly “blowing” rhetoric, gossip, and puns. They are masters of speech that, like the wind, is powerful but often lacks substance.
* The Printing Press: The literal “wind” in the chapter is the gust of air from the heavy machinery and the “pneumatic” sounds of the office.
* The Frustrated Journey: Just as Aeolus’s winds blew Odysseus off course, the distractions, headlines, and “hot air” in this chapter prevent Leopold Bloom from successfully placing his advertisement. He is “blown” about by the whims of the editor.

——————–
This passage is a masterclass in Joyce’s “Aeolus” style—high-brow academic roasting mixed with low-brow Dublin wit. The central theme here is the contrast between spiritual aspiration (the Jews/Greeks) and material plumbing (the Romans/English).
Elaborating on the Terms
* Cloacae: Latin for “sewers.” The Cloaca Maxima was one of the world’s earliest sewage systems, located in Rome. Professor MacHugh is being deeply insulting here, suggesting that while other cultures built altars to God, the Romans (and by extension, the British) only cared about where to put their waste.
* “It is meet to be here”: This is a deliberate echo of the New Testament (specifically the Transfiguration, Matthew 17:4), where Peter says to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.” The word “meet” is archaic English for “fitting” or “proper.” MacHugh uses it to mock the Romans: instead of a holy epiphany, they just find a “fitting” spot for a toilet (watercloset).
* “First chapter of Guinness’s”: A classic Dublin joke. Instead of the first chapter of Genesis (the Bible), Lenehan refers to Guinness, the famous Irish stout. He’s suggesting the “running stream” the Irish ancestors loved wasn’t just nature—it was drink.
Pontius Pilate: The Prophet of Law
J.J. O’Molloy defends Rome by mentioning Roman Law, which is the foundation of Western legal systems. MacHugh’s retort—”And Pontius Pilate is its prophet”—is a stinging critique.
* The Point: Pilate was the Roman prefect who presided over the trial of Jesus. He famously “washed his hands” of the matter, allowing an innocent man to be executed to maintain civil order.
* The Subtext: MacHugh is saying that Roman/British law isn’t about “justice”; it’s about cold, bureaucratic administration that kills the spirit to keep the “sewers” running.
Donegal Tweed & O’Madden Burke
* Donegal Tweed: A high-quality, hand-woven woolen fabric from County Donegal, Ireland. It is known for its “heathered” look—flecks of different colors (like moss, gorse, and earth) woven into the grey. By dressing O’Madden Burke in “copious” Donegal tweed, Joyce marks him as a “gentleman” of the Irish middle class, perhaps a bit pompous.
* O’Madden Burke: A real-life Dublin figure of the time. In the book, he represents the “Notoriety” mentioned. He is a local “character”—well-spoken, well-dressed, but essentially a fixture of the city’s bars and offices.
“Entrez, mes enfants!”
This is French for “Come in, my children!” Lenehan, ever the performer, uses French to sound sophisticated and welcoming. It adds to the “windy” atmosphere of the office where everyone is trying to out-talk or out-culture one another.

——————–
Since you mentioned J.J. O’Molloy was just getting into the story of Chief Baron Palles, it’s worth noting how that fits into the “Aeolus” theme of failed oratory. Palles was a legendary Irish judge, and O’Molloy (a struggling lawyer) views him with almost religious awe.
The Legend of Chief Baron Palles
Christopher Palles was the “Last of the Barons,” a man of terrifyingly precise legal mind.
* The Reputation: He was famous for being so obsessed with the “letter of the law” that he once reportedly found himself in a legal dilemma about whether he could legally pay for his own dinner at a university function.
* The Irony: O’Molloy tries to tell a story about Palles’s brilliance, but—fittingly for this chapter—he is constantly interrupted. The “wind” of the office (the arrival of Stephen Dedalus and the banter of the others) blows his serious legal anecdote off course.
Etymology of Tweed
Since O’Madden Burke arrived in that “copious grey of Donegal tweed,” the history of the fabric adds a layer to his character:
* Origin: It was originally called “tweel” (the Scots word for twill).
* The Legend of the Error: Around 1830, a London merchant received a letter from a firm in Hawick, Scotland, regarding some “tweels.” The merchant misread the handwriting as “tweed,” likely associating it with the River Tweed which flows through the Scottish Borders.
* The Branding: The name stuck. It became the definitive term for the rough, unfinished woolen fabric. By having Burke wear Donegal tweed (the Irish version), Joyce is subtly signaling a brand of rugged, middle-class Irish identity.
“Youth led by Experience visits Notoriety”
This is O’Madden Burke’s “headline-worthy” introduction for Stephen Dedalus (Youth) and himself (Experience) as they visit the Editor (Notoriety).
* The “Riddle” of Stephen: Stephen has just come from the beach (the “Proteus” episode) and is carrying a poem he wrote. He is the “suppliant” seeking to have his work noticed.
* The Layout: Just like a newspaper, these characters are “typeset” into their roles: the Cynic (Crawford), the Jester (Lenehan), the Scholar (MacHugh), and now the Poet (Stephen).
——————–
In this snippet, we see the collision of high art (Stephen’s poetry), low humor (Lenehan’s riddle), and the mundane reality of the newspaper office.
“Bit torn off?”
When the editor asks, “Who tore it? Was he short taken?”, he is making a crude joke. To be “short taken” is a 1904 slang term for having a sudden, urgent need to use the toilet. He’s suggesting that Garrett Deasy (the headmaster from the second chapter) was so desperate for toilet paper that he tore a piece off his own letter. This ties back to Professor MacHugh’s earlier obsession with cloacae (sewers).
The Verse: The “Pale Vampire”
The four lines Stephen is thinking of are actually from a poem he composed earlier that morning on the beach in the “Proteus” episode.
> On swift sail flaming / From storm and south / He comes, pale vampire, / Mouth to my mouth.
>
* The Meaning: This is Stephen’s highly dramatic, “Swinburnian” poetry. The “vampire” represents several things: death, the ghost of his mother, and perhaps even the “vampiric” nature of history and the British Empire sucking the life out of Ireland.
* The Contrast: While Stephen is lost in these dark, romantic thoughts of vampires and “mouth to mouth” kisses, the men around him are talking about… Foot and Mouth disease.
“Bullockbefriending Bard”
The “typed sheets” Stephen hands over are not his poetry, but a letter written by Garrett Deasy about Foot and Mouth disease (a cattle virus).
* Bullock: A young bull or steer.
* Bard: A poet.
* The Irony: Professor Mac

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Leopold Bloom’s Fanciful Notions

So warm. His right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and hair. Then he put on his hat again, relieved: and read again: choice blend, made of the finest Ceylon brands. The far east. Lovely spot it must be: the garden of the world, big lazy leaves to float about on, cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them. Wonder is it like that. Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the sun in dolce far niente, not doing a hand’s turn all day. Sleep six months out of twelve. Too hot to quarrel. Influence of the climate. Lethargy. Flowers of idleness. The air feeds most. Azotes. Hothouse in Botanic gardens. Sensitive plants. Waterlilies. Petals too tired to. Sleeping sickness in the air. Walk on roseleaves. Imagine trying to eat tripe and cowheel. Where was the chap I saw in that picture somewhere? Ah yes, in the dead sea floating on his back, reading a book with a parasol open. Couldn’t sink if you tried: so thick with salt. Because the weight of the water, no, the weight of the body in the water is equal to the weight of the what? Or is it the volume is equal to the weight? It’s a law something like that. Vance in High school cracking his fingerjoints, teaching. The college curriculum. Cracking curriculum. What is weight really when you say the weight? Thirtytwo feet per second per second. Law of falling bodies: per second per second. They all fall to the ground. The earth. It’s the force of gravity of the earth is the weight

Ulysses, James Joyce

This is a fantastic observation that touches on one of the most debated aspects of Joyce’s writing: is he mocking the subject, or the person observing the subject?
The answer is likely a bit of both. In this passage, Joyce is using Bloom to critique the “Colonial Mindset” of 1904 Dublin, while also showing Bloom’s specific psychological state.
1. Bloom’s “Elementary” Ignorance
You are right that his views on Sri Lanka are fanciful and objectively wrong. However, Joyce isn’t necessarily making Bloom “unintelligent” so much as he is making him provincial.
* The Information Gap: In 1904, the average Irishman’s knowledge of the “East” came from tea packets, missionary pamphlets, and “Exotic” travelogues.
* Intellectual Laziness: Bloom is usually very inquisitive, but here he wants to be lazy. He is projecting his own desire for a “painless” life onto a distant culture. He doesn’t want to know the real Sri Lanka; he wants to imagine a place where nobody has to work or deal with unfaithful wives.
2. Joyce’s Satire of “Orientalism”
Joyce is likely satirizing Orientalism—the tendency of Westerners to view the East as a static, mystical, and “lazy” place.
* By having Bloom think these cliché things while looking at a commercial tea shop window, Joyce is showing how global capitalism (the Belfast and Oriental Tea Company) packages and sells “exoticism” to the masses.
* Bloom is literally “buying” the marketing of the tea company as if it were a geographical fact.
3. The “Lotus Eaters” Parallel
Structurally, this chapter corresponds to the Lotus Eaters episode from the Odyssey.
* In Homer, the Lotus Eaters are people who eat a plant that makes them forget their homes and their duties.
* Bloom’s “Lotus”: For Bloom, his “lotus” is his daydreaming. He uses these “fanciful notions” about lianas and waterlilies to numb himself against the “thumping” reality of the funeral and Boylan.
4. The Science Confusion
His confusion about gravity (32 \text{ ft/s}^2) and buoyancy isn’t just a lack of education; it’s a distraction. He is throwing “facts” at his brain to stop it from thinking about Molly. It’s “Cracking curriculum”—a bit of noise to drown out his internal silence.

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Meme, Swag, Swagger, The Meme Machine

I first came across the word meme in the book The Meme Machine by Susan E Blackmore. After two decades it became a buzz word like reel for small byte sized videos.

A summary of The Meme Machine by Susan E Blackmore:

In The Meme Machine, Susan Blackmore takes Richard Dawkins’ concept of the meme and expands it into a “grand unified theory” of human consciousness. Her central argument is that humans are unique not because of our intelligence, but because we are the only species on Earth that functions as a meme machine.
Here is a summary of the core pillars of her book:
1. The Second Replicator
Blackmore argues that just as genes are the first replicators (using our bodies to survive and spread), memes are a second, independent replicator.
* Memes are cultural units—ideas, habits, skills, stories—that use human brains as their “hosts.”
* They don’t care if they are “true” or “good” for us; they only care if they are reproducible. (e.g., a catchy but annoying song or a dangerous “viral” challenge).
2. We are “Meme Fountains”
Why do humans have such massive brains? Blackmore suggests a process called memetic drive:
* Once our ancestors started imitating (the birth of memes), those who were better at imitating had a survival advantage.
* Because being a “good imitator” required a better brain, memes essentially “drove” the evolution of the human brain to be larger and more complex. Our brains were built by and for memes.
3. The Illusion of the “Self”
This is perhaps the most controversial part of the book. Blackmore argues that the “I” or the “Self” is not a biological reality.
* She calls it the “Self-plex”—a massive cluster of memes that have teamed up for mutual defense.
* The idea that “you” are in control is just another meme that helps other memes stay organized and protected. You are not the driver of the machine; you are the machine.
4. Language and Religion as “Viral” Systems
Blackmore analyzes complex systems like religion and language through a memetic lens:
* Religion: She describes religions as “memeplexes” (complexes of memes) that use threats (hell) and rewards (heaven) to ensure they are passed from parent to child.
* Language: Language evolved because it is a highly efficient way to “package” and transmit memes more accurately than simple gestures.
How this Jibes with Your Dream
Your dream is a perfect illustration of Blackmore’s theory:
* The Law: The strange law about the floor is a meme that has infected the “Local Presidents” and is now being forced onto you.
* The Chip: A literal piece of hardware representing the “data” of identity—it’s the meme becoming physical.
* The Vision Test: If you follow Blackmore’s logic, the “elderly man” giving you new glasses is essentially updating your “Self-plex” with a new way to filter the memes you see.
Summary Table: Gene vs. Meme
| Feature | Gene (1st Replicator) | Meme (2nd Replicator) |
|—|—|—|
| Storage | DNA / Cells | Human Brains / Digital Media |
| Transmission | Biological reproduction | Imitation / Teaching / Social Media |
| Goal | Survival of the species | Survival of the idea |

Swagger: bluster : Swag etymology

The evolution of swag from the 16th-century word swagger to a modern social media titan is one of the most successful “rebrands” in the history of the English language.
1. The Shakespearean Birth of “Swagger”
While the root swag (meaning to sway or lurch) is older, William Shakespeare is credited with first using “swagger” to describe a specific type of behavior.
* In A Midsummer Night’s Dream, he writes: “What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here…?”
* The Etymology: It comes from the Middle English swaggen (to swing or sway), which likely has Scandinavian origins. At the time, it described a person who walked with a defiant, swaying gait—literally “swinging” their body to take up more space.
2. The “Bluster” Connection
As you noticed on Free Rice, bluster and swagger are close cousins.
* Bluster is the noise (loud, aggressive talk).
* Swagger is the movement (the arrogant walk).
   Together, they create the “Braggadocio” persona we discussed earlier.
3. The “Swag” Metamorphosis
The journey from “arrogant swaying” to “coolness” happened in distinct waves:
* The Loot (1600s-1800s): “Swag” became slang for stolen goods or “booty.” This connects back to our earlier discussion of the spree (cattle raiding). The “swag” was the heavy bag of loot that made you “sway” as you carried it.
* The Freebies (1960s-1990s): It shifted to mean promotional “Stuff We All Get” (though that’s a backronym, not the true origin).
* The Persona (2000s-Present): In the last decade, popularized by Hip-Hop culture, “swag” (and later “swagger”) returned to its Shakespearean roots but lost the negative “bully” connotation. It became a word for effortless style, confidence, and “aura.”