For all its maniacal specificity, Ulysses contains
numerous omissions, mysteries, lacunae, silences. One of the
more important ones is the question of how Bloom knows that
Boylan is planning to visit Molly at 4:00. In Sirens
he thinks, "At four, she said." The thought
becomes a repeated motif over the next few pages: "At
four. . . . At four she. . . . At
four he. All said four. . . . At four."
The action of Sirens proves Bloom right: Boylan
leaves the bar a few minutes after 4:00. But the book does not
represent any conversation in which Bloom receives this
information from his wife. How does he know?
In a valuable article, "The Rhetoric of Silence," JJQ
14.4 (Summer 1977): 382-94, Hugh Kenner addresses this and
other narrative ellipses, arguing that Joyce intended them
just as carefully as he intended the novel's countless precise
details. He observes that Calypso ends with the
sound of the church bells
signifying "Quarter to," leaving
fifteen minutes "set aside for a major scene that Joyce does
not write at all: the scene in which Bloom takes leave of
Molly for the day, in the knowledge that when he sees her
again she will have cuckolded him." "It would be callow and
un-Bloomlike to just slip out through the front door" after
using the privy, Kenner argues. "And he would have meant to
retrieve his latchkey too, from the trousers in the bedroom
wardrobe, though given the emotional import of the scene it is
not surprising that in fact he forgot it again" (385).
But Joyce provides more than mere speculation to go on. In Lotus
Eaters, when Bloom is talking to M'Coy, he thinks of
his wife still in bed with her "Blackened court cards
laid along her thigh," and "Cat furry black
ball. Torn strip of envelope." She had called to
the cat to come join her when Bloom left for the outhouse, and
the torn strip of envelope from Boylan's letter further marks
the day as June 16. In Penelope Molly too thinks of
laying out her tarot cards "this morning," and she adds
another detail: "he said Im dining out and going to
the Gaiety." So, Kenner infers, Molly must have
told her husband during this final meeting in the bedroom that
Boylan was coming at 4, and Leopold must have given her reason
to think that he would not interrupt the lovers, by declaring
an intention to eat out and then attend a show at the Gaiety Theatre.
Why does Joyce not represent the conversation? It must have
been an exceedingly awkward one, and many awkward topics are
glossed over by silence in the Blooms' house. Kenner writes,
"We ought to observe, in this connection, how much silence
pervades such of their conversation as we do hear. They are
agreed to pretend that Blazes Boylan is coming to hear Molly
sing. They agree to regard the concert tour as a fund-raising
project. They are agreed that Molly may put Boylan's letter
not quite under the pillow, and that Leopold will see it, and
that she will see him see it, and that neither will comment.
They agree that 'Mrs Marion'
will pass without remark. They are so much agreed on all this
that they even agree to let the time of Boylan's arrival be
unspecified—a casual drop-in merely?—until (in that hidden
interview) either Bloom asks for the time of the assignation
or Molly volunteers it, on the shared understanding that Poldy
must know how long to stay out of the house. Their
conversation is guided by a set of elaborate agreements not to
ask, not to comment" (388). Joyce's representation of the
conspiratorial silences in a sexual relationship rivals that
of Shakespeare's sonnet 138.
Bloom's pretext is plausible enough. Lotus Eaters
discloses that "Mrs Bandman Palmer" is performing in Leah "tonight," and not
only does Bloom appreciate her acting, but the play holds deep
meaning for him. In the next chapter, Hades, he
thinks that perhaps Martin Cunningham could secure him a
complimentary "pass for the Gaiety." Near the
end of Nausicaa he thinks that it's "Too
late for Leah," and in Ithaca
he reflects on his having failed "to obtain admission
(gratuitous or paid) to the performance of Leah by
Mrs Bandmann Palmer at the Gaiety Theatre, 46, 47, 48, 49
South King street." But in Circe, in a
fantasized encounter, he tells Josie Breen, "I was
at Leah. Mrs Bandmann Palmer."
And he tells his wife the same thing at the end of Ithaca.
It is psychologically interesting that, even after the
cuckolding, Bloom feels compelled to uphold his end of the
shared lie.
