Gemini.Finnegans.Wake.15
Jute. - Yutah!
Mutt. - Mukk’s pleasurad.
Jute. - Are you jeff?
Mutt. - Somehards.
Jute. - But you are not jeffmute?
Mutt. - Noho. Only an utterer.
Jute. - Whoa? Whoat is the mutter with you?
Mutt. - I became a stun a stummer.
Jute. - What a hauhauhauhaudibble thing, to be cause! How, Mutt?
Mutt. - APut the buttle, surd.
Jute. - Whose poddle? Wherein?
Mutt. - The Inns of Dungtarf where Used awe to be he.
Jute. - You that side your voise are almost inedible to me. Become a bitskin more wiseable, as if I were you.
Mutt. - Has? Has af? Hasatency? Urp, Boohooru! Booru Usurp! I trumple from rath in mine mines when I rimimirim!
Jute. - One eyegonblack. Bisons is bisons. Let me fore all your hasitancy ross your qualm with trink gilt. Here have sylvan coyne, a piece of oak. Ghinees hies good for you.
Mutt. - Louee, louee! How wooden I not know it, the intellible greytcloak of Cedric Silkyshag! Cead mealy faulty rices for one dabblin bar. Old grilsy growlsy! He was poached on in that eggtentical spot. Here were the liveries, Monomark. There where the missers moony, Minnikin passe.
On this Thursday night in Dublin, we get to listen in on the “exchange of verbs” proposed in the last paragraph. It’s a dialogue between Jute, the modern interrogator, and Mutt, the primitive man on the hill who is an incarnation of HCE.
The Stutterer’s Secret
The dialogue begins with Jute trying to understand Mutt, who is hard of hearing (Somehards) and a stutterer (stummer). When Jute asks what caused his stutter, Mutt reveals it was APut the buttle, surd (“About the battle, sir”).
The battle in question is a foundational event in the city’s history:
The Inns of Dungtarf where Used awe to be he.
This is a reference to the Battle of Clontarf (1014), where the Irish High King Brian Boru defeated the Vikings. Mutt’s stutter, and therefore HCE’s fall, is directly linked to this ancient, violent conflict.
The Transformation
When Jute acts condescendingly (Become a bitskin more wiseable), Mutt becomes agitated, crying out a conflicted view of the battle’s hero: Boohooru! Booru Usurp! He identifies with Brian Boru but also acknowledges him as a usurper, embodying the complex and contested nature of Irish history.
Jute quickly calms him down by dismissing the past (Bisons is bisons, for “bygones is bygones”) and offering to buy him a drink, using a classic Dublin slogan:
Ghinees hies good for you. (Guinness is good for you.)
This simple offer works like a magic key. The promise of a pint in a dabblin bar (Dublin bar) transforms Mutt completely. The sullen, inarticulate primitive vanishes, and in his place stands a friendly, knowledgeable local historian.
The Local Historian
Suddenly articulate, Mutt becomes the guide. He recognizes the ghosts of history in the landscape (the intellible greytcloak of Cedric Silkyshag—a mix of Cedric the Saxon and the Viking king Sitric Silkenbeard). He joyfully points out the history of the very ground they stand on:
He was poached on in that eggtentical spot. Here were the liveries… There where the missers moony…
The paragraph brilliantly shows that history, for Joyce, is not an academic subject to be interrogated. The past, embodied by Mutt, is defensive and inarticulate when questioned directly. But it becomes open, friendly, and willing to share its secrets when approached with a simple act of communion—the offer of a pint of Guinness.
14/08/2025, P.17.2, to be continued.