In Nestor Mr. Deasy tries to paper over the gap between his Protestant unionism and Stephen's Catholic nationalism: "We are all Irish, all kings' sons." The saying is proverbial, reflecting the fact that there were many independent kingdoms in pre-Norman Ireland. Given the great number of kings in Irish history, the intricate kinship relationships within clans, and the modest population of the island, many modern Irish people probably could claim descent from some ancient ruling family. But numerous ironies attend Deasy's resort to the patriotic bromide. First, he is a West Briton loyal to the English crown, so identifying himself with symbols of fierce Irish independence is ludicrous. Second, his real-life model was an Ulster Scot, and Stephen thinks of him as Scottish in Proteus, so any Irishness he has may be limited to the last few centuries. Finally, if some of his ancestors do belong to an ancient Irish bloodline, his name threatens to negate the claim of royalty.

There are a few families named Deasy in Scotland, but it is largely an Irish name found in County Waterford, County Cork, and County Mayo. Joyce may have chosen it for his headmaster because of its etymological associations. Slote, Mamigonian, and Turner note that "The Irish name Déisi (whence Deasy is derived) was specifically associated with the subject peoples who pay 'vassal tribute' (deisis) to their rulers," so the Deasy family "would be an exception" to the proverbial commonplace. This detail adds one more layer of scathing irony to the ridiculous circumstance of an Ulster Scot making common cause with an Irish Catholic—and dismissing his aspirations to national independence—by suggesting that they are both "kings' sons."

For Stephen, the notion that the imperially subjugated Irish are royalty manqué is a black joke born of the futility of perpetual disempowerment. In Proteus he thinks about the many "pretenders" who aspired to control all of Ireland as High King, or to establish Ireland's independence from English overlords, or to establish a claim to the throne of England itself through some fabricated genealogy: "All kings' sons. Paradise of pretenders then and now." This long dismal history is not simply a saga of individual ambitious men. It is a national compensatory fantasy.

Joyce lightens the black joke in Cyclops, when Bloom briefly becomes a warlike "O'Bloom" akin to the Gaelic O'More lords of Counties Laois and Kildare, Alf Bergan becomes "the young chief of the O'Bergans," and Paddy Dignam becomes "O'Dignam, sun of our morning." All are participating in a Victorian-era enthusiasm for recapturing national dignity by restoring the lost "Ó" that means "grandson or descendant of."

Read More