Pondering the wonderful effect that the Sweny's lotion has on
Molly's skin, Bloom thinks, "Skinfood. One of the old
queen's sons, duke of Albany was it? had only one skin.
Leopold, yes. Three we have. Warts, bunions and pimples
to make it worse." This unfortunate son of Queen Victoria who
shared Bloom's given name died prematurely of hemophilia, a
genetic bleeding disorder which popular lore attributed to
having "only one skin."
A significant number of Hanovers suffered from hemophilia,
perhaps as a result of inbreeding among the royal families of
Europe. The disorder interferes with the formation of blood
clots, exposing people to the risk of catastrophic
uncontrolled bleeding. Leopold died in 1884 at the age of 30
when he slipped, fell, and hit his head, probably suffering a
cerebral hemorrhage.
Although scientific understanding of the condition had been
increasing throughout the 19th century, folk wisdom apparently
clung to the explanation that people who bleed easily must be
missing some layers of skin. Gifford calls this an "old wives'
diagnosis." I have not found any published discussions of such
a folk belief, but Joyce seems to have been familiar with some
very precise version of it. Of unafflicted human beings Bloom
thinks, "Three we have."