The Irish Literary Revival (also known as the Celtic Twilight) didn’t have a hard start or end date, as it was more of a cultural tide than a scheduled event. However, historians generally agree on a timeframe that spans roughly 50 years.
The Core Timeline: 1880s – 1930s
* The Spark (Late 1880s): The movement gained momentum following the death of political leader Charles Stewart Parnell in 1891. With the dream of “Home Rule” (political independence) temporarily stalled, the energy of the nation shifted toward cultural independence.
* The Peak (1899 – 1923): This was the “Golden Era.” Key milestones included:
* 1899: The founding of the Irish Literary Theatre.
* 1904: The opening of the Abbey Theatre in Dublin, which became the movement’s spiritual home.
* 1923: W.B. Yeats winning the Nobel Prize in Literature, which served as international validation for the movement.
* The Wane (Late 1930s): By the late 1930s, the original leaders had either passed away (Yeats died in 1939) or the movement had evolved into something more modern and cynical. Writers like James Joyce (as you saw in his parody of the “wolfdog”) and Samuel Beckett began to push back against the romanticized “folk” versions of Ireland.
Key Figures and Their Impact
The movement was driven by a small, influential circle that sought to revive Gaelic heritage through English-language literature.
| Figure | Role | Key Contribution |
|—|—|—|
| W.B. Yeats | The Visionary | Used Irish folklore and mysticism to create a “national” poetry. |
| Lady Gregory | The Organizer | Collected folk tales and co-founded the Abbey Theatre. |
| Douglas Hyde | The Scholar | Founded the Gaelic League to preserve the Irish language. |
| J.M. Synge | The Realist | Wrote plays like The Playboy of the Western World using peasant dialects. |
Why it Ended
The revival “ended” largely because it succeeded. By the time the Irish Free State was established in 1922, the goal of creating a distinct Irish identity through literature had been achieved. The younger generation of writers felt that the “Celtic Twilight” was too “misty” and romantic; they wanted to write about the harsh, modern reality of a new nation.
This passage is a famous parody from the “Cyclops” episode of James Joyce’s Ulysses. The “modern lyrist” being alluded to—along with the “eminent scholar” who translated the verse—is Douglas Hyde.
Here is the breakdown of why and how Joyce is poking fun at him:
The Clues
* The Little Sweet Branch: This is a direct translation of Hyde’s Irish pseudonym, An Craoibhín Aoibhinn. Under this name, Hyde published Love Songs of Connacht, which “familiarised the bookloving world” with Irish oral traditions.
* The Eminent Scholar: The passage satirizes the hyper-academic and often flowery way scholars of the Irish Literary Revival (like Hyde and Lady Gregory) translated rougher Gaelic “ranns” (verses) into English.
* The Dog (Garryowen): In this scene, Joyce is mocking the intense Irish Nationalism of the time. He takes the “Irishness” to such an absurd level that even a dog (Garryowen) is reimagined as a “wolfdog” reciting ancient Celtic poetry through “cynanthropy” (the dog version of philanthropy).
The Satirical Target
The person being “topically alluded to” in the “specimen” (the poem that follows this paragraph in the book) is often interpreted as a swipe at political figures of the day, but the literary target is Hyde’s translation style.
Joyce was often skeptical of the “Celtic Twilight” movement. He felt that people like Hyde were “rechristening” and over-sentimentalizing Irish culture (symbolized here by the dog being “rechristened” from Garryowen to Owen Garry).
This section is a masterpiece of Joycean “inflation.” We go from a mangy, thirsty dog in a pub to a mock-scientific report treating that dog as a literary genius.
1. The Rhyme and the “Duet”
The “hauling and mauling” describes the Citizen physically messing with the dog, Garryowen, while speaking to him in Irish. Joyce describes it as a “duet in the opera” because the Citizen’s guttural Irish sounds (to the narrator’s ears) exactly like the dog’s growls.
It’s a nasty joke: the narrator is suggesting that the “ancient language of heroes” is indistinguishable from the snarling of a rabid animal.
2. Cynanthropy: The Poetry-Reading Dog
Cynanthropy is the central “jawbreaker” here. It is the key to the whole parody.
* Etymology: From the Greek kyon (dog) + anthropos (human).
* Meaning: It is a psychiatric term for the delusion that one is a dog, or a mythological term for a human turning into a dog.
* The Joke: Joyce turns it on its head. Instead of a human acting like a dog, he presents a dog acting like a human—specifically, an Irish Bard.
The passage claims Garryowen is reciting “ranns” (ancient Irish stanzas). By comparing a dog’s growl to the poetry of Raftery (a famous blind Irish poet), Joyce is mocking the “Celtic Twilight” movement. These were poets like W.B. Yeats who were obsessed with finding deep, mystical meaning in every old Irish sound. Joyce is saying: “You think that old Irish poetry is profound? It sounds like my dog when he’s thirsty.”
3. Etymology of Difficult Terms
| Term | Etymology & Meaning |
|—|—|
| Sobriquet | From Middle French; a nickname or “fancy name.” Garryowen’s “real” name is Owen Garry (a more “human” name). |
| Delucidate | From Latin delucidare; to make clear or explain (usually we use “elucidate”). Joyce adds the “de-” to make it sound more pompous. |
| Rann | From Irish rann; a quatrain or verse in ancient Irish poetry. |
| Englyn | A traditional Welsh short poetic form with complex rules of alliteration and rhyme. |
| Hydrophobia | From Greek hydro (water) + phobia (fear). It is the old name for Rabies, because infected animals are afraid to swallow water. |
| Flahoolagh | (From the previous section) From Irish flaithiúlach; meaning princely or generous. |
| Little Sweet Branch | A translation of the pseudonym An Craoibhín Aoibhinn, used by Douglas Hyde, the first President of Ireland and a famous Gaelic scholar. |
4. The “Topical Allusion”
The poem the dog “recites” (which appears right after this passage in the book) is actually a satirical attack on Bloom. The “eminent scholar” mentioned is a jab at Lady Gregory or Yeats, who were famous for translating Irish works into English with a very specific, flowery “peasant” style.
Joyce is using the dog to “growl” a poem that insults Bloom’s lack of Irishness.
Bloom.
The word shoneen is a sharp linguistic weapon in this chapter. It captures the Citizen’s deepest hatred: the Irishman who “forgets his place” and tries to act like an Englishman.
1. The Etymology of Shoneen
* Root: It comes from the Irish name Seon (John), which was the generic name for an Englishman (like “John Bull”).
* Suffix: The suffix -ín is a diminutive in Irish, meaning “little.”
* The Meaning: Literally, it means “Little Johnnie.” It was used to describe an Irishman who was a “small-scale imitation” of an Englishman.
To the Citizen, a shoneen isn’t just someone who likes tea or cricket; it is a “West Briton” who is ashamed of his Irish roots and sucks up to the British authorities at Dublin Castle for social status.
2. The Citizen’s Rant on Language
In the passage you just read, the Citizen is fuming about the shoneens in the Dublin Corporation (the city government) who refuse to use the Irish language.
* The Conflict: The Gaelic League was trying to make Irish a requirement for official business.
* The Insult: The Citizen believes that if you don’t speak the “mother tongue,” you aren’t a man—you’re just a “shoneen” puppet of the King.
* Bloom’s Position: Bloom tries to stay neutral, but by bringing up the Antitreating League and “civilized” movements, he accidentally aligns himself with the “refined” shoneens in the Citizen’s eyes.
3. Related Slang: The “West Briton” and “Gombeen Man”
The Citizen uses a whole vocabulary of exclusion to define who is “truly” Irish:
| Term | Meaning |
|—|—|
| Shoneen | An Irishman who acts English (the “Little Johnnie”). |
| West Briton | A person living in Ireland who identifies more with Britain than Ireland. |
| Gombeen Man | A shady businessman or moneylender (from Irish aimbin), often accused of profiting from his own people’s misery. |
| Castle Catholic | An Irish Catholic who worked for or supported the British administration at Dublin Castle. |
4. Why this hits Bloom
Bloom is the ultimate target for these labels because he is a cosmopolitan. He doesn’t hate the English, he likes “science,” and he thinks for himself. To a “Cyclops” like the Citizen, if you aren’t 100% a screaming Irish nationalist, you must be a shoneen.
When Bloom defines a nation as “the same people living in the same place,” he is effectively trying to kill the word “shoneen” by saying everyone in Ireland counts as Irish. The Citizen, predictably, isn’t buying it.
The tension has reached its breaking point. The Citizen, fueled by beer and “shoneen”-hating nationalism, is about to turn his one-eyed gaze directly on Bloom.
1. The Trap is Set
In the eyes of the Citizen and the narrator, Bloom is the ultimate outsider. He’s “scientific,” he doesn’t drink (much), he’s “prudent,” and most importantly, he doesn’t fit their narrow definition of “Irish.”
When the Citizen asks Bloom about his nation, he isn’t looking for a geography lesson—he is looking for a fight. He wants to prove that Bloom doesn’t belong.
2. Bloom’s Famous Definition
Bloom, cornered and exhausted, finally speaks up. His answer is one of the most famous lines in 20th-century literature because of its radical simplicity:
> “A nation?” says Bloom. “A nation is the same people living in the same place.”
>
To the Citizen, who believes a nation is built on “blood and soil,” ancient languages, and Catholic martyrs, this is an insult. But to Bloom—the son of a Hungarian immigrant living in Dublin—it is the only definition that allows him to exist.
3. “And I belong to a race too…”
When Joe Hynes asks Bloom, “But do you know what a nation means?”, Bloom’s reply becomes even more personal. He points out that his people (the Jews) are “at this very moment” being “robbed, selfed, and persecuted.”
He is drawing a direct parallel between the persecution of the Jews and the persecution of the Irish. He’s essentially saying: “We are the same. We are both outsiders under the thumb of empires.”
The tension in the pub is shifting from the abstract horror of execution to the “internal” culture war of 1904 Ireland. The narrator is mocking everything—from the language revivalists to the people trying to stop the Irish from drinking.
1. The Language and the “Shoneens”
The Citizen is ranting about “shoneens.”
* Etymology: This comes from the Irish word Seonín (Little John/Johnnie).
* Meaning: It was a derogatory term for an Irishman who imitated British manners, spoke English with an affected accent, and looked down on Irish culture. To the Citizen, a shoneen is a “West Briton”—a traitor to his own blood.
2. The Gaelic League and the Antitreating League
Bloom, trying to be helpful as usual, brings up two major social movements of the time:
* The Gaelic League (Conradh na Gaeilge): Founded in 1893 to encourage the speaking of the Irish language. The narrator mocks the “musical evenings” where people sang songs and wore badges while barely speaking the language correctly.
* The Antitreating League: This was a temperance movement. In Dublin pub culture, “treating” (buying a round for the whole group) was a social requirement. The League argued that this forced people to drink more than they wanted.
* The Irony: The narrator points out that Bloom loves the idea of the Antitreating League because he’s “frugal” (or cheap), yet he’s happy to let others buy him drinks until he’s full.
3. “Ireland Sober is Ireland Free”
This was a famous slogan of the Temperance Movement. The idea was that the British Empire kept the Irish “enslaved” by keeping them drunk and poor.
* Flahoolagh: An Irish-derived word (flaithiúlach) meaning “generous” or “princely,” but used here sarcastically to describe the “cheap” entertainment of dry buns and lemonade.
* Sky Pilots: Slang for clergymen or priests who were there to make sure no “goings on” happened between the “colleen bawns” (pretty girls) and the “gougers” (low-class ruffians).
4. Vocabulary of the Pub
| Term | Meaning |
|—|—|
| Old Goo | Nonsense or “same old talk.” |
| Twopenny Stump | A cheap, partially smoked cigar (Bloom cadged/borrowed it from Joe). |
| Stuck someone for a quid | Conned or borrowed a pound from someone without intending to pay it back. |
| The tune the old cow died of | A way of saying the music was terrible or droning. |
| Ballyhooly blue ribbon | A temperance badge (blue ribbons represented “Total Abstinence”). |
It was indeed gruesome. Joyce uses that horrific detail to contrast the “civilized” language of the British Empire with the “barbaric” reality of how they treated Irish rebels.
To answer your question: the letter was received by Joe Hynes, but it was originally addressed to the High Sheriff of Dublin.
1. The Chain of Possession
Here is how the letter moved through the scene:
* The Sender: H. Rumbold, the “Master Barber” and hangman from Liverpool.
* The Addressee: The High Sheriff of Dublin. (In 1904, the High Sheriff was the official responsible for organizing executions at Mountjoy or Kilmainham jail).
* The “Real” World: Joe Hynes (a journalist and friend of the men in the pub) somehow got his hands on it—likely because he hangs around the courthouse or the Sheriff’s office looking for “scoops.”
* The Pub Scene: Joe Hynes pulls the letter out of his pocket and reads it aloud to the Citizen, Alf Bergan, and the narrator to show them how “barbarous” the English hangmen are.
2. Why the “Gruesome” Details Matter
You mentioned that this was much worse than a bullet or a simple hanging. Joyce is making a political point here:
* The “Simple” Hanging: In the pub, Bloom tries to talk about hanging as a “deterrent” and a “scientific phenomenon.”
* The “Gruesome” Parody: Joyce interrupts Bloom’s science with the “disembowelling” details to show that state-sponsored death is never clean. By bringing up the “intestines” and “quartering,” he is reminding the Irishmen in the pub that the laws they live under were built on a history of public butchery.
3. The Irony of the “Barber”
The fact that a Barber is the one applying for the job of executioner is the ultimate “dark joke.”
* A barber is supposed to “groom” you and make you look better.
* Rumbold wants to “groom” the prisoners by cutting their throats or snapping their necks.
This is why the Citizen calls him a “barbarous bloody barbarian.” He finds it sickening that the British system treats the killing of Irishmen as a “trade” or a business transaction worth “five guineas.”
This is the genius (and the frustration) of the “Cyclops” chapter! To understand why we are suddenly looking at a “blind intestine” while sitting in a pub, we have to look at Joyce’s narrative structure.
1. How did we get to the execution site?
We never actually left the pub. In this chapter, Joyce uses a technique called Gigantism.
The “real” story is just a few guys in Barney Kiernan’s talking, drinking, and being mean to Bloom. However, whenever they mention a topic (like the “Hangman’s Letters” or the death of Paddy Dignam), the narrative “inflates” into a massive, over-the-top parody of that topic.
* The Trigger: Alf Bergan shows the guys a letter from a hangman (H. Rumbold).
* The Inflation: Because they are talking about hanging, the “narrator” (the epic voice) takes over and describes a fictional, legendary execution of a “hero martyr.”
* The Return: Once the parody is over, we “pop” back into the pub where the men are still just sitting there, leaning on the counter.
2. Why the Intestines and Gut Details?
You’re right to be confused—usually, hanging doesn’t involve “disembowelling.” However, Joyce is mixing two different things here for a specific reason:
A. The History of “Hanged, Drawn, and Quartered”
For centuries, the punishment for High Treason in England and Ireland wasn’t just hanging. It was a three-step process of “Barbarity”:
* Hanged: By the neck until nearly dead.
* Drawn: While still alive, the prisoner was cut open, and their intestines and organs (the “duodenum, colon, etc.”) were removed and burned before their eyes.
* Quartered: The body was chopped into four pieces.
By including these gruesome medical details, Joyce is reminding the reader of the actual history of British executions of Irish revolutionaries. He uses “Messrs John Round and Sons, Sheffield” (a real knife company) to make the horror sound like a polite, commercial transaction.
B. The Parody of Science vs. Sentiment
The “intestine” details also serve to mock Bloom’s scientific mind. Earlier, Bloom was trying to explain the “phenomenon” of the body’s reaction to death using medical terms. Joyce takes those “jawbreakers” and applies them to a scene of slaughter to show how cold “science” can be when it ignores human suffering.
3. Was it not a Guillotine?
In the parody, the executioner uses a “horrible weapon” and a “block.” This suggests a decapitation (beheading) rather than a simple hanging.
* Why? Because beheading was historically reserved for “nobles” or “heroic” traitors. Joyce wants the parody to feel like a grand, royal event, even though the man who started the conversation (Rumbold) is just a “Master Barber” from Liverpool who hangs people for five guineas.
The “mystery” of 17 o’clock is a classic Joycean layered joke. On the surface, it’s a simple impossibility, but in the context of Ulysses, it serves three distinct purposes:
1. The Satire of “Standard Time”
In 1904 (the year the book is set), Ireland was still using Dublin Mean Time, which was 25 minutes behind Greenwich Mean Time (GMT). There was a huge, confusing public debate about “synchronizing” the empire’s clocks. By mentioning “17 o’clock,” Joyce is mocking the obsession with precision and “official time” by providing a time that doesn’t exist on a standard 12-hour analog clock face.
2. The 24-Hour Military Mockery
While we use the 24-hour clock today (where 17:00 is 5:00 PM), it was not the standard for civilian life in 1904 Dublin. By using it in this “epic” passage, Joyce is:
* Parodying Military Precision: The execution is presided over by a “Provost-marshal” and a “Lieutenant-colonel.” Joyce uses “17 o’clock” to make the event sound hyper-regulated and “continental,” contrasting it with the chaotic, sloppy reality of the pub.
* Inflating the Scene: Everything in this chapter is bigger than life (the “ninefooter” policeman, the half-million spectators). A “17-hour” day fits the surreal, distorted atmosphere where the “Cyclops” (the Citizen) sees the world through a warped lens.
3. The “St. Patrick” Math Link
You’ll notice that “17 o’clock” appears shortly after the debate about whether St. Patrick was born on the 8th or the 9th.
* The logic: 8 + 9 = 17.
* The Joke: Since the crowd just “unanimously accepted” that 17 is the holy number for the day, Joyce carries that absurdity into the very fabric of time itself. If the date is the 17th, the time might as well be 17 o’clock.
This passage is the peak of Joyce’s “Cyclops” parody, where he mashes together a brutal public execution with the over-the-top sentimentality of a Victorian “romance” novel and the cold, gruesome details of an anatomy textbook.
Here are the keys to unlocking this bizarre scene:
1. The Multi-National Cheers
When the “worldrenowned headsman” Rumbold arrives, the foreign delegates cheer in their native tongues. Joyce is showing off his linguistic range while mocking the “unity” of the crowd:
* Hoch: German (“High” or “Hail”).
* Banzai: Japanese (“Ten thousand years”).
* Eljen: Hungarian (“Long live”).
* Zivio: Serbo-Croatian (“Live”).
* Polla kronia: Greek (“Many years”).
* Evviva: Italian (“Long live”).
2. Medical and Anatomical Mockery
As Rumbold prepares his tools, the prose shifts into a parody of a surgical manual. Joyce uses the “Sheffield” brand name (famous for steel) to give it a realistic edge, then lists the organs to be “extracted” as if they were ingredients in a recipe:
* Duodenum: The first part of the small intestine.
* Colon: The large intestine.
* Blind Intestine: Another name for the caecum, where the small and large intestines meet.
* Aliquot parts: A mathematical term meaning a portion of a larger whole.
3. The “Sheila, My Own” Romance
The scene where the “bride elect” flings herself on the prisoner is a parody of the sentimental nationalist literature of the time.
* The Contrast: The hero is about to be “launched into eternity” (hanged), yet they are laughing and reminiscing about playing on the banks of the Anna Liffey (the river Liffey) as if they were at a picnic.
* The Souvenirs: Giving the ladies “skull and crossbones brooches” as souvenirs is Joyce’s way of mocking how the public turns gruesome tragedies into fashionable “events.”
4. The Provost-Marshal’s Outburst
The chapter ends this “epic” section with a sudden, jarring shift in tone. Lieutenant-colonel Tomlinson is described as a “stern” warrior who blew sepoys (Indian soldiers) from cannons—a reference to the brutal British suppression of the Indian Rebellion of 1857.
However, when he speaks, he drops the “noble” act and speaks in thick Cockney slang:
* Clinker: A “first-rate” or attractive person.
* Bleeding tart: A vulgar way of referring to a woman.
* Mashtub: Slang for his “old woman” or wife.
* Limehouse: A rough, dockside district in East London.
The Joke: Joyce is revealing that the “noble British officer” is actually just a crude, common man behind the fancy uniform and the “mailed gauntlet.”
5. Historical Puzzles
* 17 o’clock: This is a joke about “military time” or an impossible hour, adding to the surreal nature of the scene.
* Rienzi: A reference to Cola di Rienzo, a 14th-century Italian populist leader.
* Catalani: Angelica Catalani was a famous Italian opera singer (soprano). Calling her a “eunuch” is Joyce being mischievous—she was a woman, but he is likely poking fun at the “castrati” tradition of high-pitched male singers.
This section is a brilliant piece of slapstick comedy disguised as high-stakes international diplomacy. Joyce is parodying the way “official” reports often use dignified language to cover up blatant criminal behavior.
1. The “Affray” and the Pickpocket
The “affray” is simply a legalistic word for a public brawl or riot. In this chaotic fight between the “Friends of the Emerald Isle,” people are hitting each other with everything from cannonballs to meat-choppers.
The joke here is on Commendatore Beninobenone (the Italian delegate):
* The “Theft”: During the fight, Beninobenone’s “legal adviser” (the lawyer Avvocato Pagamimi) admits that Beninobenone has “abstracted” (stolen) hundreds of gold and silver watches from the pockets of his colleagues.
* The Excuse: The lawyer claims his client only took the watches “in the hope of bringing them to their senses”—as if stealing someone’s watch is a logical way to calm them down during a riot.
* The Name: The lawyer’s name, Pagamimi, is a pun on the famous Italian violinist Paganini mixed with the Italian phrase “Paga mi”—”Pay me!”
2. The Satire of “Official Harmony”
Joyce is mocking how organizations like the F.O.T.E.I. (Friends of the Emerald Isle) claim to be united by noble causes, but are actually composed of people who would rob each other the moment a fight breaks out.
The fact that “general harmony reigned supreme” only after everyone got their stolen watches back shows that their “friendship” for Ireland is secondary to their own greed.
3. The “St. Patrick’s Day” Math Problem
You mentioned the 8th and 9th of March earlier. This is based on a real 19th-century comic song by Samuel Lover called “The Birth of St. Patrick.” In the song, a faction from the North (fighting for March 8th) and a faction from the South (fighting for March 9th) have a violent clash. A priest (Father Ned) settles the “affray” with the same absurd logic as the policeman in your text:
> Now, boys, don’t be fightin’ for eight or for nine,
> Don’t be always dividin’, but sometimes combine;
> Give up your foolishness—eight and nine is seventeen,
> So let’s celebrate it on the seventeenth of March!
>
This is one of the most brilliant “interruptions” in the chapter. Joyce is parodying the official journalism of the era—the kind of florid, self-important reporting found in the Irish Times or Freeman’s Journal—while mixing it with the absolute chaos of a public execution.
The sheer scale is ridiculous: half a million people, a “steam crane” to move a delegate, and a list of names that mocks every nationality under the sun.
1. The “Nationalgymnasiummuseum…” Compound Word
You are likely correct—this is almost certainly the longest compound word in Ulysses.
Joyce is satirizing the German academic tradition of creating massive compound nouns (Bandwurmwörter or “tapeworm words”). He is mocking the overly-specialized, bureaucratic titles held by German professors.
* The Breakdown: It combines “National Gymnasium” (School), “Museum,” “Sanatorium,” “Suspensorium” (a jockstrap/athletic support), “Ordinary,” “Privatdocent” (an unsalaried lecturer), “General History,” “Special Professor,” and “Doctor.”
* The Name: The professor’s name, Kriegfried Ueberallgemein, roughly translates to “War-peace Over-everything” or “Over-general.” It’s Joyce’s way of saying these “experts” are actually just puffed-up blowhards.
2. Who are the “Friends of the Emerald Isle”?
This “foreign delegation” is a parade of ethnic stereotypes. Joyce is making fun of how nationalists love to claim international support. The names are all puns:
* Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone: Italian for “Kiss-kiss, well-well-very-well.”
* Ali Baba Backsheesh Rahat Lokum Effendi: A “backsheesh” is a bribe/tip; “Rahat Lokum” is Turkish Delight.
* Hiram Y. Bomboost: A parody of a “boastful” American name.
* Olaf Kobberkeddelsen: “Copper-kettle-son” in a mock-Scandinavian style.
3. The March 8th vs. 9th Fight
The delegation gets into a violent brawl over St. Patrick’s birthday.
* The Legend: According to Irish folklore, there was a dispute over whether the Saint was born on the 8th or the 9th of March.
* The Solution: A priest (or in this parody, a “baby policeman” who is actually a “ninefooter”) suggested adding the two dates together: 8 + 9 = 17.
* The Result: This is why we celebrate St. Patrick’s Day on March 17th. Joyce uses this “miraculous” logic to show how easily the mob can be swayed from violence to “unanimous” harmony.
4. Speranza and the “Larry” Song
* Speranza: This was the pen name of Lady Jane Wilde, the mother of Oscar Wilde. She was a famous revolutionary poet.
* “The Night before Larry was stretched”: This is a famous Dublin “gallows ballad” written in thick Dublin slang about a man’s last night before being hanged.
* The Contrast: Joyce loves the irony of a high-society “viceregal houseparty” watching a “genuinely instructive treat” (a hanging) while listening to a song about a criminal being “stretched.”
The narrator’s use of “wampum” to describe a Dublin inheritance is a classic example of how global slang filtered into the city’s docks and pubs.
1. Wampum Etymology
The word wampum is not Irish or English; it is an Algonquian word from the Native American tribes of the northeastern United States (specifically the Narragansett or Wampanoag).
* Original Root: It is a shortened version of the word wampumpeag.
* Literal Meaning: “White shell beads.” (Wompi = white; umpe = string; ag = plural suffix).
* Historical Usage: These were intricate beads made from quahog or whelk shells. While they were used for storytelling and ceremonial gifts, European settlers mistakenly viewed them as “money.” By the 19th century, the word became a common slang term for cash, wealth, or a “stash” of money.
2. Did Sara Curran “Pine Away”?
The story of Sara Curran is one of Ireland’s most famous romantic tragedies, and the narrator’s “Tommy Moore touch” refers to the sentimental way her life was portrayed.
* The Tragedy: After her fiancé, Robert Emmet, was executed in 1803, Sara was essentially cast out by her father (who feared for his own legal reputation). She was devastated by Emmet’s death.
* The “Pining”: Popular legend and Thomas Moore’s song “She is Far from the Land” suggest she died of a broken heart.
> “She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, / And lovers around her are sighing: / But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, / For her heart in his grave is lying.”
>
* The Reality: While she was deeply depressed, she did eventually marry a British army officer, Captain Henry Sturgeon, in 1805 and moved to Sicily. However, she died only three years later in 1808.
* Cause of Death: Officially, it was tuberculosis (consumption), but in the romantic tradition of the 19th century, any young woman who died shortly after a tragedy was said to have “pined away” from grief.
Why the Narrator mentions it
The narrator is mocking the “Tommy Moore touch.” He thinks this kind of sentimental, flowery nationalism is “swank” and fake. He prefers the grit of the pub and the “wampum” of a will to the “snivelling” stories of pining lovers.
The tension in Barney Kiernan’s pub is palpable now. The narrator is mocking Bloom’s “scientific” detachment by digging up every embarrassing story he can find, while the Citizen is getting increasingly “pious” and patriotic.
1. Not Eating Meat of a Friday
This refers to the Catholic practice of abstinence. For centuries, the Church mandated that Catholics abstain from eating “warm-blooded” meat on Fridays to honor the day of the Crucifixion.
* The Narrator’s Jab: Bloom is Jewish, but the narrator claims he pretended to follow Catholic dietary laws (“not eating meat of a Friday”) just to stay in the good graces of the wealthy old lady at the City Arms Hotel.
* “Thumping her craw”: This refers to the Mea Culpa prayer during Mass, where a person strikes their chest (the “craw” or throat/stomach area) in repentance. The narrator is painting a picture of Bloom playing the part of a “good Catholic boy” to inherit her wampum (money).
2. Loodheramaun Etymology
This is a wonderful Hiberno-English word that Joyce uses to capture the character of the nephew.
* Irish Root: It comes from the Irish word lúdramán.
* Meaning: It refers to a lazy, lanky, good-for-nothing fellow, or someone who is a bit of a “half-wit.”
* Linguistic Nuance: In the 1904 Dublin context, it implies someone who is physically awkward and mentally slow—exactly the kind of person Bloom would try to “reform” with a disastrous drinking trip.
3. Curran Etymology
Sara Curran was the daughter of the famous lawyer John Philpot Curran. The name has deep Irish roots.
* Irish Root: It comes from the Gaelic surname Ó Corraidhín, derived from the word corradh.
* Meaning: “Spear.” Specifically, it means “descendant of the person armed with a small spear.”
* Historical Weight: In this passage, mentioning “Curran” immediately invokes the tragedy of Robert Emmet. Sara Curran was his fiancée; after his execution, she was reportedly so heartbroken that she “pined away.”
4. The “City Arms” and the “Boiled Owl”
The narrator is referencing real locations. The City Arms Hotel was located near the Dublin cattle market (where Bloom actually worked for a time).
* The Joke: Bloom’s “scientific” attempt to teach a “loodheramaun” about the dangers of drink by making him “drunk as a boiled owl” is a perfect example of Bloom’s logic backfiring. Instead of being disgusted by alcohol, the nephew became a “professional” taster at Power’s Distillery!
The narrator is really ramping up the venom here. We’re seeing a classic Dublin “hatchet job” where every character’s history is dragged through the mud.
Here is the breakdown of the historical and slang-heavy references in this passage:
1. The Nationalist “Roll of Honour”
The Citizen is listing the great martyrs of Irish history to needle Bloom:
* The Brothers Sheares: Henry and John Sheares, lawyers and United Irishmen executed in 1798.
* Wolfe Tone: The “Father of Irish Republicanism” who died in prison in 1798.
* Robert Emmet: Led a rebellion in 1803. His “Speech from the Dock” (where he asked that his epitaph not be written until Ireland was free) made him a romantic icon.
* The Tommy Moore Touch: Thomas Moore was a famous poet. He wrote a sentimental song, “She is Far from the Land,” about Sara Curran, who was Robert Emmet’s grieving fiancée. The narrator calls it a “touch” to suggest it’s a bit over-dramatic or sappy.
2. The “Wampum” and the “Loodheramaun”
The narrator tells a story about when Bloom lived at the City Arms Hotel. He accuses Bloom of being a “mollycoddle” (a teacher’s pet type) to a wealthy old lady to get into her will.
* Wampum: North American Indigenous term for shell beads used as currency. Here, it just means “money” or “inheritance.”
* Loodheramaun: From the Irish lúdramán, meaning a lazy, clumsy, or foolish person.
* Bézique: A trick-taking card game popular in the 19th century.
* Thumping her craw: A vivid way of describing someone very religious (striking one’s chest during prayer/confession).
3. The “Boiled Owl” Experiment
This is a classic Bloom story. To “teach the evils of alcohol” to the old lady’s nephew, Bloom took him out and let him get “as drunk as a boiled owl” (completely wasted). Bloom’s logic was that the hangover would cure the boy of drinking; instead, the boy apparently loved it and ended up becoming a professional drunk working at a whiskey blender’s!
4. Linguistic Gems
| Term | Meaning |
|—|—|
| Golloped | Ate greedily and noisily (Gulped). |
| Back like a ballalley | A “ballalley” is a handball court (a flat, wide stone wall). He’s insulting Molly Bloom’s physical size/stature. |
| Never cried crack | Never stopped; kept going until the end. |
| Footless | So drunk you cannot stand on your own feet. |
| Give you the bloody pip | To make you feel annoyed or disgusted (originally a disease in poultry). |
Joyce is hitting you with a double-whammy here: first, a “jawbreaker” parody of medical jargon (turning Bloom into the German-sounding “Professor Blumenduft”), and then a dive into the deep, bloody history of Irish rebellion.
When the Citizen starts “gassing” about the Men of ’67 and ’98, he is invoking the “Holy Trinity” of Irish Nationalist history. To the Citizen, these aren’t just dates; they are sacred sacrifices for the cause of a “New Ireland.”
1. The Men of ’98 (The Rebellion of 1798)
This was the big one. Inspired by the French and American Revolutions, the United Irishmen (led by Theobald Wolfe Tone) rose up against British rule.
* The Goal: To unite Catholics and Protestants to create an independent Irish Republic.
* The Outcome: It was a bloody failure. Over 30,000 people died, and it led directly to the Act of Union (1800), which abolished the Irish Parliament and tied Ireland directly to London.
* The Phrase: “Who fears to speak of Ninety-Eight?” is the first line of a famous nationalist ballad. The Citizen uses it to challenge anyone who might be “soft” on Irish independence.
2. The Men of ’67 (The Fenian Rising of 1867)
This refers to the Fenian Brotherhood, a secret revolutionary society.
* The Goal: An armed insurrection to establish an independent republic.
* The Outcome: The rising itself was poorly coordinated and easily suppressed by the British. However, it created a generation of “Fenian” martyrs who were hanged or “transported” (sent to prison colonies in Australia).
* Significance: The “Old Guard” the Citizen mentions are the survivors of this era.
3. Bloom’s “Medical Evidence”
Notice how Joyce renames Leopold Bloom as “Herr Professor Luitpold Blumenduft” (Blumenduft is German for “flower-scent”—a play on the name “Bloom”).
The passage explains the “poker” effect Alf mentioned using highly technical terms. Here is the translation of that medical “word salad”:
* Scission of the spinal cord: The snapping of the neck.
* Corpora cavernosa: The sponge-like tissue in the penis that fills with blood.
* In articulo mortis: Latin for “at the moment of death.”
* Per diminutionem capitis: A legal/medical pun meaning “by the loss of the head” (or status).
4. The “Invincibles”
The Citizen also mentions the Invincibles. This was a radical splinter group of Fenians who, in 1882, assassinated the Chief Secretary for Ireland in Phoenix Park. Joe Brady (the man Alf said had the erection) was the leader of this group and was hanged for the crime.
To the Citizen, Joe Brady is a hero; to the British law, he was a “bloody barbarian.” This is the core conflict of the chapter: One man’s “invincible” hero is another man’s “Toad Smith” murderer.
This passage is a perfect example of Joyce’s “Cyclops” style: shifting from the gritty, prejudiced atmosphere of a pub to a mock-heroic epic, and then into a “scientific” debate about a very awkward biological fact.
1. Is “Barbecue” a Cognate?
It’s a great guess because they sound so similar, but no, barbecue is not a cognate of barbarian.
* Barbarian: As we discussed, comes from the Greek barbaros (mimicking “foreign” speech like “bar-bar”).
* Barbecue: Comes from the Spanish barbacoa, which they borrowed from the Taíno people (indigenous Caribbean). It originally referred to a wooden raised platform used for drying or smoking meat.
The similarity is a coincidence of phonetics—one comes from ancient Greece, the other from the Caribbean.
2. The “Crude” Description of Barbarians
The “vengeful knights of the razor” passage is Joyce’s parody of epic poetry (specifically Homer or Dante).
* “Erebus”: In Greek mythology, this is the personification of darkness and a region of the underworld.
* “Wight”: An archaic Middle English word for a person or creature.
* The Joke: Joyce is taking these “barbers” (the hangmen) and turning them into mythological guardians of death. He calls the hangman’s rope a “deadly coil” to make a common rope sound like a legendary weapon.
3. The “Scientific” Phenomenon (The “Poker”)
Alf Bergan mentions that Joe Brady (a real historical figure, one of the “Invincibles” who committed the Phoenix Park Murders) had a persistent erection after being hanged.
Bloom, the amateur scientist, tries to explain this with “jawbreakers” (big words). In modern medicine, this is called a terminal erection or priapism.
* The Science: It is caused by the sudden, violent pressure on the spinal cord (specifically the cerebellum and spinal nerves) during the “drop” of a hanging.
* Bloom’s Struggle: Bloom is trying to be “civilized” and “scientific” to avoid the crude humor of the pub. But to the narrator and the Citizen, his “phenomenons” are just annoying “codology” (nonsense).
4. The Narrator’s Prejudice
The narrator’s comment about the dog smelling a “queer odour” on Bloom is a nasty bit of antisemitism common in 1904 Dublin. It shows that no matter how “scientific” or “prudent” Bloom acts (choosing a cigar instead of a drink to stay sober), the men in the pub will always find a reason to treat him as a “barbarian” or an outsider.
In the context of Mleccha and Yavana, Meerati (or variants like Marhati) likely refers to the Marathi people or their language, though it has an interesting intersection with the “barbarian” labels in ancient India.
The terms Mleccha and Yavana were historically fluid—they were “bins” that ancient writers threw people into if they didn’t follow the Vedic social order (Dharma) or speak Sanskrit.
1. The Linguistic Connection
In ancient texts and Prakrit (the “common” speech of the people, as opposed to the “refined” Sanskrit), the word Mleccha often shifted phonetically.
* In Pali (Buddhist texts), it became Milakkha or Milakkhu.
* In some later dialects and regional tongues like Marathi, you see variations like Menchha or Marhati.
2. The Marathi / “Marhati” Context
As the Indo-Aryan culture moved from the North into the Deccan (the region of modern Maharashtra), the local populations and their languages were sometimes initially viewed through the Mleccha lens because their speech was “indistinct” to a Sanskrit scholar.
However, the Marathi-speaking people eventually became a powerhouse of the “Hindu” identity. By the time of the Maratha Empire, the roles had flipped: the Marathas were the defenders of Dharma, and they used terms like Mleccha to describe foreign invaders (like the Mughals or the British).
3. Summary of the “Outsider” Hierarchy
If we were to look at how a 2nd-century Sanskrit scholar might have classified these groups:
| Term | Target Group | Reason for the Label |
|—|—|—|
| Yavana | Greeks / Ionians | Originally geographical; seen as “technologically advanced barbarians.” |
| Mleccha | Central Asians / Tribals | “Incomprehensible speech” (Mlech = to stammer/speak indistinctly). |
| Marhati / Meerati | Regional Southerners | Initially “outsiders” to the Northern Vedic core, but later absorbed into the fold. |
Why this matters in Ulysses
The reason this is so relevant to your reading of James Joyce is that Joyce is obsessed with vowels and phonetics.
In the passage you read, the ghost of Paddy Dignam uses fake Sanskrit-sounding words like tālāfānā and ālāvātār. Joyce is making fun of how “refined” people take everyday common objects (like a telephone or an elevator) and give them “exotic” names to make them sound spiritual.
Just as an ancient Indian scholar might call a Greek a Yavana to categorize him, the Dubliners in the pub call Bloom a “Freemason” or “Hungarian” to categorize him. They are using “labels of the other” to exclude him from their tribe.
That is a fascinating historical pivot! You’ve touched on a classic case of “the mirror effect” in history: while the Greeks were calling everyone else barbaros, the ancient Indians were looking at the Greeks and thinking exactly the same thing.
The relationship between the two cultures is one of the great “clashes of civilizations” that actually resulted in a beautiful hybrid of ideas.
1. The Etymology of Yavana
The word Yavana is the Sanskrit transliteration of “Ionian” (the Greeks of Asia Minor).
* To the Greeks, they were Iōnes.
* To the Persians, they were Yauna.
* To the Indians, they became Yavana.
Initially, it specifically meant “Greek,” but over centuries, it evolved into a generic term for any “foreigner” coming from the West (later including Arabs and even Europeans).
2. The “Barbarian” Label: Mleccha
While the Greeks used the word “Barbarian,” the Sanskrit equivalent used by Indians was Mleccha.
* The Meaning: Much like the Greek barbaros (the “blah-blah” talkers), Mleccha originally referred to those who did not speak Sanskrit or follow the Vedic rituals.
* The Judgment: To the ancient Indian elite, the Greeks (Yavanas) were “mighty” and “scientific,” but they were also Mleccha because they didn’t follow the caste system or the purity laws of the Dharma.
3. The “Scientific” Respect
Despite the cultural friction, the Indians had immense respect for Greek science. There is a famous quote from the Gargi Samhita (an ancient astronomical text) that perfectly captures this:
> “The Yavanas are barbarians (Mleccha), but the science of astronomy originated with them and for this they must be reverenced like gods.”
>
This is why you see such a heavy Greek influence in Indian astronomy and sculpture (the Gandhara style, where the Buddha starts looking like a Greek Apollo).
4. Connecting it back to Ulysses
This is exactly what Joyce is doing in the “Cyclops” chapter!
* The Citizen sees Bloom as a Mleccha—an outsider, a “freemason,” someone who doesn’t fit the local “tribe.”
* Bloom, however, is like the Yavana of the old texts: he is interested in science, “the drop” in hanging, and the mechanics of the world.
* The conflict in the pub is the same ancient conflict: Tribal Identity (The Citizen/Mleccha-labeler) vs. Scientific Universalism (Bloom/The Yavana).
You’ve hit on a fascinating linguistic and historical evolution! You are exactly right: what started as a single, messy role eventually split into the distinct categories we know today.
In the world of Ulysses, the Citizen is using the shared etymology of these words to insult Rumbold’s “English” lack of civilization. Here is how that history actually unfolded:
1. The Barber-Surgeon: The “All-in-One” Professional
For centuries (roughly from the 1100s to the 1700s), if you needed a haircut and a tooth pulled, you went to the same person.
* Why? Physicians (the “medicine men”) considered themselves scholars. they spoke Latin and studied theory, but they thought cutting the human body was “beneath” them—it was manual labor.
* The Skills: Barbers already had the sharpest razors and steady hands. Therefore, they became Barber-Surgeons. They performed:
* Haircuts and shaves.
* Bloodletting (to “balance the humors”).
* Amputations and setting broken bones.
* Pulling teeth.
2. The Great Split
By the mid-18th century, the professions began to diverge based on “refinement,” just as you suggested:
* The Surgeon: They broke away from the barbers to join the world of science. They stopped cutting hair and started studying anatomy formally.
* The Barber: They remained focused on “grooming.” In the passage you read, Rumbold calling himself a “Master Barber” while bragging about hanging people is a dark callback to the days when barbers were the ones “handling the flesh.”
* The Physician: Always the “expert of medicine” who diagnosed through books rather than knives.
3. The “Barbarian” Connection (Etymology)
While “Barber” and “Barbarian” sound similar, they actually come from two different roots, which is why the Citizen’s pun is so clever:
| Word | Root | Meaning |
|—|—|—|
| Barber | Latin Barba (Beard) | A person who tends to beards. |
| Barbarian | Greek Barbaros | Literally “blah-blah-er.” The Greeks thought foreign languages sounded like “bar-bar-bar,” so a barbarian was anyone who didn’t speak Greek. |
The Citizen’s Logic: By calling him a “barbarous bloody barbarian,” he is saying that Rumbold (the Englishman) might have the title of a “Barber” (a trade), but he has the soul of a “Barbarian” (an uncivilized savage). He’s essentially saying Rumbold is a “bearded savage who talks nonsense.”
You’re absolutely right to notice the spelling. In this passage, Joyce is using eye-dialect and intentional misspellings to characterize H. Rumbold.
The “messed up” spelling serves a few purposes: it shows Rumbold’s lack of formal education, his chillingly casual attitude toward death, and it sets up the pun at the very end.
1. The “Errors” and Their Meanings
Joyce writes the letter exactly as a “Master Barber” of low education might.
* “Fowl murder”: He means foul (wicked/disgusting), but he spells it like a bird (chicken/duck). This makes the murder of Jessie Tilsit sound absurdly domestic or animalistic.
* “Nack”: He means knack (a special skill).
* “Ginnees”: He means guineas (a gold coin worth 21 shillings).
* “Febuary”: A common phonetic misspelling of February.
2. Who is H. Rumbold?
Interestingly, H. Rumbold is based on a real-life person (Sir Horace Rumbold), but Joyce reimagines him here as a “Master Barber.” Historically, barbers and surgeons were often the same profession (the Barber-Surgeons). By having a barber apply for the job of hangman, Joyce is playing on the idea of a man who is “skilled with his hands” and “sharp instruments”—only here, he’s “neck-shaving” people to death.
3. The Citizen’s Pun
The Citizen’s closing line is a classic Joycean triple-threat:
> —And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too.
>
He is playing on:
* Barber: Rumbold’s stated profession.
* Barbarous: Cruel or brutal.
* Barbarian: An uncivilized, savage person.
4. The Hanging References
The names Rumbold mentions—Billington, Joe Gann, and Toad Smith—add to the “grimy realism.” James Billington was a real, famous English executioner. Joyce mixes real history with fictionalized names to make the pub’s atmosphere feel increasingly morbid and “heavy.”
This section is a masterpiece of “the drunk and the dead.” We see the transition from high-flown Celtic mourning to the messy, tearful reality of a pub at midday.
1. The Lament for “Patrick of the Beamy Brow”
The passage opens with a parody of Ossianic poetry (ancient Irish epic style).
* “Wail, Banba”: Banba is one of the ancient, poetic names for Ireland (along with Ériu and Fódla).
* The Irony: Joyce describes Paddy Dignam as a “sun of our morning” and “fleet of foot,” which is hilarious because, in reality, Paddy was a slow-moving, heavy-drinking process server who died of a heart attack.
2. Bob Doran’s Theological Crisis
Bob Doran, now “snoring drunk,” provides the dark comedy here.
* “Who said Christ is good?”: Bob is in the “angry/depressed” stage of intoxication. He’s furious at God for taking “poor little Willy” (he keeps getting the name wrong—it’s Paddy).
* “I beg your parsnips”: This is Alf’s sarcastic version of “I beg your pardon.”
* The “Respectable” Pub: Terry (the barman) “tips him the wink.” In Dublin pub culture, you could curse all you wanted, but blasphemy against “The Good Christ” was a quick way to get kicked out, as it could cost the owner their license.
3. The Gossip: “The Little Sleepwalking Bitch”
While Bob Doran is crying about Paddy’s “pure character,” the narrator (the unnamed “I”) gives us the gritty backstory on Bob’s wife, Polly Mooney.
* The “Kip”: Slang for a brothel or a very low-end boarding house.
* Bumbailiff: A low-level debt collector (her father).
* Stravaging: Wandering or roaming about aimlessly.
* The Story: This is a direct callback to Joyce’s short story “The Boarding House” in Dubliners. Bob Doran was essentially trapped into marrying Polly after her mother caught them together. The narrator has no sympathy for Bob’s “weeps,” seeing him as a fool married to a woman of ill repute.
4. Vocabulary Breakdown
| Term | Meaning |
|—|—|
| Physog | Short for physiognomy; a person’s face. |
| Bawways | Crooked, askew, or “all at sea” (confused). |
| Poll | The back of the head. |
| Skeezing | Peeking, squinting, or looking in a suspicious/shifty way. |
| Garryowen | The name of the citizen’s dog (a famous Irish breed, the Irish Setter/Wolfhound mix). |
This passage is another “interrupting” parody. After Alf Bergan is shocked (“flabbergasted”) by the news of Paddy Dignam’s death, Joyce shifts the style into a hilarious parody of Theosophy and Spiritualism.
In 1904 Dublin, there was a huge fad for séances and Eastern mysticism (led by people like W.B. Yeats). Joyce mocks this by describing Paddy Dignam’s “ghost” appearing, but instead of saying anything profound, the ghost just worries about his old boots.
1. The Theosophical Jargon
Joyce uses a mix of Sanskrit and pseudo-spiritual terms to make the scene sound like a high-brow occult meeting.
* Etheric Double & Jivic Rays: Terms used in Theosophy to describe the energy body and life force (Jiva).
* Prālāyā: The period of “dissolution” or rest between cosmic cycles.
* Māyā: The Hindu concept of “illusion”—the physical world we live in.
* Atmic Development: Refers to the Atman (the soul or true self).
* The Seven Chakras: Joyce references the pituitary body, solar plexus, and sacral region, which correspond to the energy centers through which the ghost is supposedly communicating.
2. The “Modern Home Comforts” (The Wordplay)
This is one of the funniest linguistic jokes in the book. The ghost says the spirit world is equipped with “modern comforts,” but Joyce gives them a fake Sanskrit/Eastern flair. If you read them phonetically, they are just everyday items:
* Tālāfānā: Telephone.
* Ālāvātār: Elevator (Lift).
* Hātākāldā: Hot and Cold (running water).
* Wātāklāsāt: Water Closet (the toilet).
3. The Message from the Beyond
While the “adepts” expect a message about the universe, Paddy Dignam’s ghost remains a practical Dubliner:
* The Boots: His biggest concern in the “afterlife” is that his son Patsy can’t find his other boot. He reveals it’s under the commode (a chest of drawers/portable toilet) and gives specific instructions to have them “soled only” because the heels are still good.
* C.K.: He warns them to watch out for Corny Kelleher, the real-life Dublin undertaker, making sure he doesn’t “pile it on” (overcharge for the funeral).
This is one of the most famous comedic moments in Ulysses. It perfectly captures the chaotic, “broken telephone” nature of pub gossip, where the living and the dead often cross paths over a pint.
1. The “Bloody Freemason”
The “citizen” (the aggressive, nationalist narrator of this chapter) is looking out the window at Leopold Bloom.
* The Slur: Calling Bloom a “freemason” is a way of calling him an outsider or a “secretive” non-Catholic. In 1904 Dublin, being a Mason was associated with British loyalty and “un-Irish” activities.
* The Reality: Bloom isn’t a Mason, but his tendency to wander, look at things scientifically, and stay sober makes the local drinkers suspicious of him.
2. Alf Bergan’s “Rhino” and the Letters
* Rhino: This is old Victorian slang for money (specifically cash). Alf is “chucking out the rhino” to pay for the drinks he just ordered.
* Hangmen’s Letters: Alf works for the sheriff’s office, so he has access to the strange mail they receive. These are applications from people wanting the job of “executioner.” It highlights the dark, morbid humor of the Dublin underclass.
3. The “Ghost” of Paddy Dignam
This is the peak of the comedy in this passage.
* The Mix-up: Alf claims he just saw Paddy Dignam walking down the street with Willy Murray.
* The Reality: The reader knows (from earlier chapters) that Paddy Dignam is dead. In fact, Bloom and Joe were at his funeral earlier that morning.
* Why the mistake? Alf likely saw someone who looked like Dignam, or he’s so caught up in his own stories that he hasn’t heard the news.
* The Reaction: Joe’s dry remark—”They took the liberty of burying him this morning anyhow”—is classic Dublin wit. He uses the phrase “paid the debt of nature” as a polite, mock-religious way of saying he died.
4. Key Terms
* Codding: Pranking or joking. (“Are you codding?” = “Are you kidding me?”)
* Honest Injun: An old-fashioned (and now dated/offensive) way of saying “I’m telling the truth.”
* As plain as a pikestaff: An idiom meaning something is very obvious or clear to see.
* A bit of a dust: A fight or a row.
* The porter’s up in him: He is getting drunk and aggressive (Porter is a type of dark beer, similar to stout).
You’re right to catch that! Joyce is obsessed with the “meaning” behind the name, so let’s dig into the Irish and Greek roots he’s playing with.
1. The Guinness Titles: Iveagh and Ardilaun
While “Bung” is the barrel stopper, the suffixes are actual places in Ireland associated with the Guinness family’s peerage.
* Iveagh (Uíbh Eachach):
* Etymology: Derived from the Irish Uí (descendants) and Eachach (a personal name meaning “of the horse”).
* Meaning: “Descendants of Eochu.” In a broader sense, it refers to a territory in County Down. When Edward Guinness was made a Lord, he chose this ancient tribal name to sound more “royal.”
* Ardilaun (Ard Oileán):
* Etymology: Ard (High) + Oileán (Island).
* Meaning: “High Island.” This is a real island off the coast of Galway. Arthur Edward Guinness took this title because he was a philanthropist and a “lord of the land,” and the name gave him a sense of ancient, rugged Irish heritage.
2. The Children of Leda: Greek Etymology
The names of the four siblings (two mortal, two divine) have meanings that often reflect their tragic or heroic roles in mythology.
The Dioscuri (The Brothers)
* Castor (Kastōr): * Meaning: Likely derived from the Greek kekasmai, meaning “to shine” or “to excel.” It is also the Greek word for “beaver,” though the “shining” hero root is what Joyce is likely nodding to.
* Pollux (Polydeuces/Polydeukēs): * Meaning: “Much sweet wine” or “very sweet.” (Poly = much/many; deukēs = sweet/bright). This is hilariously appropriate given that Joyce uses the “noble twin brothers” to describe the men brewing “ebon ale.”
The Sisters
* Helen (Helenē): * Meaning: Most likely derived from helane (torch/bright light) or hēlios (sun). It essentially means “The Shining One.” (Appropriate for the woman whose beauty “burned the topless towers of Ilium”).
* Clytemnestra (Klytaimnēstra): * Meaning: “Famous Plotter” or “Praised Courtship.” (Klytos = famous/noble; mēstōr = counselor/planner). Given that she famously murdered her husband Agamemnon, “Famous Plotter” is the definition history remembers.
Joyce is at it again with his “Epic” style! In this passage, he is describing a very simple transaction—Alf Bergan buying a pint of Guinness and paying with a coin—but he’s writing it as if it were a scene from the Iliad or the Odyssey.
1. The Myth of Leda
In Greek mythology, Leda was a queen of Sparta who was seduced by Zeus in the form of a swan.
She gave birth to two sets of twins:
* The Sons (The Dioscuri): Castor and Pollux (Polydeuces). They are the “deathless” brothers mentioned in your text.
* The Daughters: Helen of Troy and Clytemnestra.
Why Joyce uses it here: The “noble twin brothers” mentioned in the text are the brewers. By comparing them to the “sons of deathless Leda,” Joyce is jokingly elevating these two Dublin brewers to the status of Greek demigods.
2. Bungiveagh and Bungardilaun Etymology
These are two of Joyce’s most clever “mock-epic” inventions. He is referring to the Guinness family (the famous brewers), but he gives them fancy, ancient-sounding titles.
The names are a mix of English (brewing terms) and Irish (place names/topography):
* Bung: This is the wooden stopper used in a beer barrel (cask).
* -iveagh: This refers to Iveagh, the title held by the Guinness family (Lord Iveagh). It comes from the Irish Uíbh Eachach.
* -ardilaun: This refers to Ardilaun, another title held by a branch of the Guinness family (Lord Ardilaun). It comes from the Irish Ard Oileán, meaning “High Island.”
The Joke: He has turned the prestigious family titles of the Guinness lords into “Lord of the Barrel-Stopper of Iveagh” and “Lord of the Barrel-Stopper of Ardilaun.”
Additional Context: The “Testoon of Bronze”
When the passage mentions a “testoon of costliest bronze” with the image of a “queen of regal port,” it is simply a penny coin with Queen Victoria’s face on it. Joyce describes the coin’s inscription and the British Empire’s reach with the same over-the-top grandeur he uses for the beer.
In the context of James Joyce’s Ulysses, calling Denis Breen a “pantaloon” is both a specific insult and a literary reference.
1. The Meaning of “Pantaloon”
In early 20th-century slang, a “pantaloon” referred to a foolish, tottering old man who is an object of ridicule.
The term comes from Pantaloon (Pantalone), a stock character in the Italian Commedia dell’arte. He was typically portrayed as a thin, elderly, greedy merchant wearing tight trousers (whence we get the word “pants”). He was constantly the butt of the joke, usually being tricked by younger characters or his own servants.
By calling Breen a “bloody old pantaloon,” the narrator is saying he looks like a ridiculous, pathetic caricature—specifically because he is wandering the streets in “bathslippers” (house slippers) while carrying heavy law books, looking completely out of place and mentally “unraveling.”
2. The Denis Breen Affair (Recap)
You likely remember seeing him earlier in the Lestrygonians episode (Episode 8).
* The Postcard: Bloom sees Breen and his wife, Josie, on the street. Breen is already fuming about the postcard he received that morning.
* The Text: The postcard simply says “U.p: up.” * The Obsession: Breen is convinced this is a massive legal “libel” (defamation of character). He is spending his entire day walking from one lawyer’s office to another, trying to find someone who will sue the anonymous sender for £10,000.
* The Tragedy: While the men in the pub (like Alf Bergan) think it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever seen, the “unfortunate wretched woman” (Mrs. Breen) is exhausted from chasing him around Dublin to keep him out of trouble.
Dancing light of grace 