We stopped at "... once more to the mercy as well as to the bounty of the Supreme Being." (Penguin 534.2), (Gabler 14.879)
Last week we had read about Buck Mulligan and Alec Bannon joining the bash at the Holles street maternity hospital. Mulligan had just produced a specially printed card proclaiming himself as Fertilizer and Incubator, and had announced his resolve to purchase the freehold of Lambay island to pursue his obligation in these roles. This week we read that he proposes to set up there a fertilising farm to be named Omphalos (center of the world) and to offer his services to the poorest kitchenwench as well as to the opulent lady of fashion. Here Joyce is taking on the controversial topic of eugenics of which a chair had been established in the early 1900s at the London university (See Gifford, 14.684-85). Mulligan's description of the project entertains his audience, except for Mr. Dixon, who thinks that it is a useless exercise like carrying coal to Newcastle (at that time coal used to be shipped from Newcastle to other parts of England). Mulligan's attention now turns to the stranger among them, asking him - ironically - whether he (the stranger) was in need of any professional assistance that they could give. As the stranger, who in fact is none other than our Bloom, is answering quite seriously that he had come to see about a lady, Mr. Dixon takes his chance to poke fun at Mulligan, pointing to his incipient ventripotence (big-belly) and using bombastic medical terms. Mulligan's reply gives rise to another storm of mirth.
Next it is Alec Bannon's turn. Written in the style of the Irish novelist, Lawrence Sterne (1713-68), this paragraph (starting with 'Here the listener who was none other than the Scotch student,...'), describes how Bannon accepts a cup and starts talking in flowery language about his meeting a girl (Milly) and her beauty, ending with his thanks to God, the author of his days! (A sigh of affection gave eloquence to these words and, having replaced the locket in his bosom, he wiped his eye and sighed again.) What follows is another play of words with double meanings. Does Bannon really feel that he should have taken his cloak along or something else, does the Marchand de capotes he refers to mean a cloak merchant or a merchant of condoms? (After all this episode is mainly about sterility and fertility.) Lynch comes in with his comments (One umbrella, were it no bigger than a fairy mushroom, is worth ten such stopgaps), with what his girl, Kitty would do/say. Note that umbrella is a slang for diaphragm!
With this kind of bantering going on, the style changes again to that of the 18th century Anglo-Irish novelist, Oliver Goldsmith, the author of The Vicar of Wakefield. A bell rings. Nurse Callan enters and speaks in low tone to Mr. Dixon. The room, which was quiet when the nurse was there, breaks out again in ribaldry, once she leaves. Costello, one of the assembled, very drunk, starts commenting about nurses and doctors. He is joined by Lynch and Mulligan (the young blood in the primrose vest), who again imitates in a female voice, how a nurse would react to a doctor's advances. (Bless me, I'm all of a wobbly wobbly....) Dixon rebukes them, and leaves the room to go and attend to Mrs. Purefoy, who has just given birth.
Attention and style change again: Attention to the musings of Bloom, style to that of another Anglo-Irish essayist, political theorist, Edmund Burke. Bloom reflects about the raucous behaviour of the young men around him. He had borne some impudent mocks he has been subjected to since his arrival as being the result of their age. Even then he cannot excuse Costello's remarks about the nurse. (To those who create themselves wits at the cost of feminine delicacy... to them he would concede neither to bear the name nor to merit the tradition of a proper breeding...) Whatever that be, he is glad to hear from Nurse Callan that the ordeal of Mrs Purefoy, whose status he had to come to enquire about, is finally over.
Last week we had read about Buck Mulligan and Alec Bannon joining the bash at the Holles street maternity hospital. Mulligan had just produced a specially printed card proclaiming himself as Fertilizer and Incubator, and had announced his resolve to purchase the freehold of Lambay island to pursue his obligation in these roles. This week we read that he proposes to set up there a fertilising farm to be named Omphalos (center of the world) and to offer his services to the poorest kitchenwench as well as to the opulent lady of fashion. Here Joyce is taking on the controversial topic of eugenics of which a chair had been established in the early 1900s at the London university (See Gifford, 14.684-85). Mulligan's description of the project entertains his audience, except for Mr. Dixon, who thinks that it is a useless exercise like carrying coal to Newcastle (at that time coal used to be shipped from Newcastle to other parts of England). Mulligan's attention now turns to the stranger among them, asking him - ironically - whether he (the stranger) was in need of any professional assistance that they could give. As the stranger, who in fact is none other than our Bloom, is answering quite seriously that he had come to see about a lady, Mr. Dixon takes his chance to poke fun at Mulligan, pointing to his incipient ventripotence (big-belly) and using bombastic medical terms. Mulligan's reply gives rise to another storm of mirth.
Next it is Alec Bannon's turn. Written in the style of the Irish novelist, Lawrence Sterne (1713-68), this paragraph (starting with 'Here the listener who was none other than the Scotch student,...'), describes how Bannon accepts a cup and starts talking in flowery language about his meeting a girl (Milly) and her beauty, ending with his thanks to God, the author of his days! (A sigh of affection gave eloquence to these words and, having replaced the locket in his bosom, he wiped his eye and sighed again.) What follows is another play of words with double meanings. Does Bannon really feel that he should have taken his cloak along or something else, does the Marchand de capotes he refers to mean a cloak merchant or a merchant of condoms? (After all this episode is mainly about sterility and fertility.) Lynch comes in with his comments (One umbrella, were it no bigger than a fairy mushroom, is worth ten such stopgaps), with what his girl, Kitty would do/say. Note that umbrella is a slang for diaphragm!
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| (Statue of Oliver Goldsmith in front of the Trinity college, Dublin) |
Attention and style change again: Attention to the musings of Bloom, style to that of another Anglo-Irish essayist, political theorist, Edmund Burke. Bloom reflects about the raucous behaviour of the young men around him. He had borne some impudent mocks he has been subjected to since his arrival as being the result of their age. Even then he cannot excuse Costello's remarks about the nurse. (To those who create themselves wits at the cost of feminine delicacy... to them he would concede neither to bear the name nor to merit the tradition of a proper breeding...) Whatever that be, he is glad to hear from Nurse Callan that the ordeal of Mrs Purefoy, whose status he had to come to enquire about, is finally over.
