Page 83 (5.546-572) "Your Christmas... floating flower."

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Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Jack Fleming embezzling to gamble then smuggled off to America. Keeps a hotel now. They never come back. Fleshpots of Egypt.

"Jack Fleming" may be the missing husband of the Blooms' housekeeper, Mrs Fleming, thus partly based on 'Dante' Hearn Conway (of PoA fame), whose husband disappeared with her fortune

"They" = Irish emigrants?
on p41 we saw Stephen-- an emigrant who did come back-- use this phrase ironically for his groatsworth of mou en civet

1909 map

He walked cheerfully towards the mosque of the baths. Remind you of a mosque, redbaked bricks, the minarets. 

College sports today I see. He eyed the horseshoe poster over the gate of college park: cyclist doubled up like a cod in a pot. Damn bad ad. Now if they had made it round like a wheel. Then the spokes: sports, sports, sports: and the hub big: college. Something to catch the eye.

This "combination meeting of Dublin University Bicycle and Harrier Club" will occur in episode ten

no one knows what a horseshoe poster looks like: the poster must be rectangular, depicting a sideways horseshoe shape that represents a racing cyclist (maybe head, back, arms, with no legs or wheels?)

the poster is over the gate (on the brick wall to the left?)

"It grieved my heart to see you sail, Though from my heart you took leg-bail; ♬ Like a cod you’re doubled up head and tail, Och, Johnny, I hardly knew ye!"

(is the horseshoe shape also made of words?)

Hamlet II.2.483-484: 'Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel, And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven'



There's Hornblower standing at the porter's lodge. Keep him on hands: might take a turn in there on the nod. How do you do, Mr Hornblower? How do you do, sir?

on p55 Bloom imagined: "come to a city gate, sentry there, old ranker too"
from the context, "on hands" must mean 'on good terms' (Bloom's practical opportunism)
"on the nod" = with the porter's special permission

this bit of dialog is just in Bloom's head, rehearsing a future exploit. nor is 'Hornblower' a name in the Irish census: perhaps it describes his uniform (but Molly will capitalise it too):

photos of Trinity's south gate are scarce

now, from Google StreetView

StreetView now

Delaney: [234]

Heavenly weather really. If life was always like that. Cricket weather. Sit around under sunshades. Over after over. Out. They can't play it here. Duck for six wickets. Still Captain Buller broke a window in the Kildare street club with a slog to square leg.

"like that" why not like this?
lotuseaters lazily watch cricket
Bloom seems more knowledgeable about cricket than he credits the Irish ("They" not 'We')
1895 cricket in Phoenix(?) Park
"Duck for six wickets" implies perfect ineptitude
Buller
StreetView now

(anticipates Harry Hughes in episode 17)


Donnybrook fair more in their line. And the skulls we were acracking when M'Carthy took the floor.

song lyrics

Heatwave. Won't last. Always passing, the stream of life, which in the stream of life we trace is dearer thaaan them all.

"which in the flight of years we trace is dearer than them all" (jump to 2:20)


"Won't last" (global warming not yet a factor)

Delaney: [235]

Enjoy a bath now: clean trough of water, cool enamel, the gentle tepid stream. This is my body.

Luke 22:19 "And he took bread, and gave thanks, and brake it, and gave unto them, saying, This is my body which is given for you: this do in remembrance of me." (cf p77 "Rum idea: eating bits of a corpse why the cannibals cotton to it. ")

He foresaw his pale body reclined in it at full, naked, in a womb of warmth, oiled by scented melting soap, softly laved. He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, lemonyellow: his navel, bud of flesh: and saw the dark tangled curls of his bush floating, floating hair of the stream around the limp father of thousands, a languid floating flower.

"riprippled" joycean onomatopoeia
various nonaquatic plants are nicknamed 'mother of thousands' because they propagate readily ("limp" may imply he's picturing having just masturbated in the bath)
his nightly accounts in ch17 will include one shilling and sixpence (~US2014 $10) for "Bath and Gratification"

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mysteries: horseshoe poster


[DD 02:23-05:34]

[IM 44:08-46:32]

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Page 82 (5.509-545) "No, Mr Bloom... tender turkey."

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— No, Mr Bloom said. Make it up, please. I'll call later in the day and I'll take one of those soaps. How much are they?
— Fourpence, sir.
Mr Bloom raised a cake to his nostrils. Sweet lemony wax.
— I'll take this one, he said. That makes three and a penny.
— Yes, sir, the chemist said. You can pay all together, sir, when you come back.
— Good, Mr Bloom said. 

4p in 1904 = $2 today, 3s/1p = $20

He strolled out of the shop, the newspaper baton under his armpit, the coolwrappered soap in his left hand.

wrapped/unwrapped

as with the milkmaid, there's an impressive level of trust

Delaney: [232]

At his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and hand said:
— Hello, Bloom, what's the best news? Is that today's? Show us a minute.

StreetView now
mentioned on p71 as drinking at Conway's last night with M'Coy and Doran
(how might Bloom have handled this if he still had Martha's letter hidden there?)

Shaved off his moustache again, by Jove! Long cold upper lip. To look younger. He does look balmy. Younger than I am.
Bantam Lyons' yellow blacknailed fingers unrolled the baton. Wants a wash too. Take off the rough dirt. Good morning, have you used Pears' soap? Dandruff on his shoulders. Scalp wants oiling. 
 

current thinking is that mineral oil is better than vegetable for dandruff


— I want to see about that French horse that's running today, Bantam Lyons said. Where the bugger is it?
He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his high collar. Barber's itch. Tight collar he'll lose his hair. Better leave him the paper and get shut of him.

tight collar


— You can keep it, Mr Bloom said.
— Ascot. Gold cup. Wait, Bantam Lyons muttered. Half a mo. Maximum the second.

race odds:
Zinfandel: 5 to 4
Sceptre: 7 to 4
Maximum II: 10 to 1
Throwaway: 20 to 1


— I was just going to throw it away, Mr Bloom said.
Bantam Lyons raised his eyes suddenly and leered weakly.
— What's that? his sharp voice said.
— I say you can keep it, Mr Bloom answered. I was going to throw it away that moment.
Bantam Lyons doubted an instant, leering: then thrust the outspread sheets back on Mr Bloom's arms.
— I'll risk it, he said. Here, thanks.
He sped off towards Conway's corner. God speed scut.

Delaney: [233]

Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a neat square and lodged the soap in it, smiling. Silly lips of that chap. Betting. Regular hotbed of it lately. Messenger boys stealing to put on sixpence. Raffle for large tender turkey.

(belief in lucky omens is another lazy Lotus-eaters motif)
Lyons respects Bloom enough to take the 'tip' seriously
the adman in Bloom includes the "large tender" hype

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mysteries:


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[DD 00:00-02:23]

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Page 81 (5.470-508) "I changed... a bottle?"

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I changed a sovereign I remember. First of the month it must have been or the second. O, he can look it up in the prescriptions book.

20/0 - 2/9 = 17/3 = 3 crowns, 2 shillings, and 3 pence
= $130 now
StreetView now
1909 map

The chemist turned back page after page. Sandy shrivelled smell he seems to have. Shrunken skull. And old. Quest for the philosopher's stone. The alchemists. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Lethargy then. Why? Reaction. A lifetime in a night. Gradually changes your character. Living all the day among herbs, ointments, disinfectants. All his alabaster lilypots. Mortar and pestle. 

"lilypots" seems to be joyce's coinage, maybe after Lilypot Lane in London (cf Lillyput)
alabaster jars suggests Egypt
vintage apothecary jars
renaissance pharmacy conventions

Delaney: [229]

Aq. Dist. Fol. Laur. Te Virid.

Aqua Distillata = distilled water
Folia Lauri = laurel leaves
Thea Viridis = green tea

Sidney-tribute: 'Laurus poetam te viridis probat,
Divina virtus progeniem Iovis,
Virtute divine, Philippe,
Et viridi celebrande lauro.' [etext] [notes]

1907 chemist's shop

Smell almost cure you like the dentist's doorbell. Doctor Whack.

(ie, sometimes a good whack will cure you)

He ought to physic himself a bit. Electuary or emulsion. The first fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a bit of pluck. Simples.

"Electuary" and "emulsion" refer to how it's prepared, not the ingredients
"Simples" means a single ingredient
"pluck" is witty
"picked an herb" echoes the doctrine of signatures (cf p37)

Want to be careful. Enough stuff here to chloroform you. Test: turns blue litmus paper red. Chloroform. Overdose of laudanum. Sleeping draughts. Lovephiltres. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for cough. Clogs the pores or the phlegm. Poisons the only cures. Remedy where you least expect it. Clever of nature.

misspelling of 'paregoric' (painkiller)

Delaney: [230]

— About a fortnight ago, sir?
— Yes, Mr Bloom said.
He waited by the counter, inhaling slowly the keen reek of drugs, the dusty dry smell of sponges and loofahs. Lot of time taken up telling your aches and pains.
— Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom said, and then orangeflower water...
It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax.
— And white wax also, he said.
Brings out the darkness of her eyes. Looking at me, the sheet up to her eyes, Spanish, smelling herself, when I was fixing the links in my cuffs. Those homely recipes are often the best: strawberries for the teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say steeped in buttermilk. Skinfood.

loofahs

Delaney: [231]

One of the old queen's sons, duke of Albany was it? had only one skin. Leopold, yes.

hemophiliac
Bloom is Leopold too

Three we have. Warts, bunions and pimples to make it worse. But you want a perfume too. What perfume does your? Peau d'Espagne.

Bloom is mistaken here-- it's opoponax

That orangeflower water is so fresh. Nice smell these soaps have. Pure curd soap. Time to get a bath round the corner. Hammam. Turkish. Massage. Dirt gets rolled up in your navel. Nicer if a nice girl did it. Also I think I. Yes I. Do it in the bath. Curious longing I. Water to water. Combine business with pleasure. Pity no time for massage. Feel fresh then all day. Funeral be rather glum.
— Yes, sir, the chemist said. That was two and nine. Have you brought a bottle?

A Dublin guidebook (1895) lists the following baths (arranged here by proximity to Swenys):
* The Turkish Baths, in Lincoln place (same block)
* 11 Leinster street. Turkish and other baths (likeliest)
* Nassau Place. (2 more blocks west)
* St Stephen's Green Baths (1/2 mile away)
* The Hammam Hotel and Turkish Baths (3/4 mile)

masturbation motif
neologism: underwater jacking

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mysteries:


[DD 03:12-03:25]
[DD 00:00-04:35]

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