Ulysses

Black Rod, Deputy Garter, Gold Stick, the master of horse, the lord great chamberlain, the earl marshal, the high constable carrying the sword of state, saint Stephen’s iron crown, the chalice and bible. Four buglers on foot blow a sennet. Beefeaters reply, winding clarions of welcome. Under an arch of triumph Bloom appears bareheaded, in a crimson velvet mantle trimmed with ermine, bearing Saint Edward’s staff, the orb and sceptre with the dove, the curtana. He is seated on a milkwhite horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with golden headstall. Wild excitement. The ladies from their balconies throw down rosepetals. The air is perfumed with essences. The men cheer. Bloom’s boys run amid the bystanders with branches of hawthorn and wrenbushes. Bloom’s Boys

The wren, the wren,
The king of all birds,
Saint Stephen’s his day
Was caught in the furze.

A Blacksmith Murmurs. For the honour of God! And is that Bloom? He scarcely looks thirtyone. A Pavior and Flagger

That’s the famous Bloom now, the world’s greatest reformer. Hats off!

All uncover their heads. Women whisper eagerly. A Millionairess Richly. Isn’t he simply wonderful? A Noblewoman Nobly. All that man has seen! A Feminist Masculinely. And done! A Bellhanger A classic face! He has the forehead of a thinker. Bloom’s weather. A sunburst appears in the northwest. The Bishop of Down and Connor I here present your undoubted emperor president and king chairman, the most serene and potent and very puissant ruler of this realm. God save Leopold the First! All God save Leopold the First! Bloom In dalmatic and purple mantle, to the bishop of Down and Connor, with dignity. Thanks, somewhat eminent sir. William, Archbishop of Armagh In purple stock and shovel hat. Will you to your power cause law and mercy to be executed in all your judgments in Ireland and territories thereunto belonging? Bloom Placing his right hand on his testicles, swears. So may the Creator deal with me. All this I promise to do. Michael, Archbishop of Armagh Pours a cruse of hairoil over Bloom’s head. Gaudium magnum annuntio vobis. Habemus carneficem. Leopold, Patrick, Andrew, David, George, be thou anointed! Bloom assumes a mantle of cloth of gold and puts on a ruby ring. He ascends and stands on the stone of destiny. The representative peers put on at the same time their twentyeight crowns. Joybells ring in Christ church, Saint Patrick’s, George’s and gay Malahide. Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from all sides with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs. The peers do homage, one by one, approaching and genuflecting. The Peers I do become your liege man of life and limb to earthly worship. Bloom holds up his right hand on which sparkles the Koh-i-Noor diamond. His palfrey neighs. Immediate silence. Wireless intercontinental and interplanetary transmitters are set for reception of message. Bloom My subjects! We hereby nominate our faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and announce that we have this day repudiated our former spouse and have bestowed our royal hand upon the princess Selene, the splendour of night. The former morganatic spouse of Bloom is hastily removed in the Black Maria. The princess Selene, in moonblue robes, a silver crescent on her head, descends from a Sedan chair, borne by two giants. An outburst of cheering. John Howard Parnell Raises the royal standard. Illustrious Bloom! Successor to my famous brother! Bloom Embraces John Howard Parnell. We thank you from our heart, John, for this right royal welcome to green Erin, the promised land of our common ancestors. The freedom of the city is presented to him embodied in a charter. The keys of Dublin, crossed on a crimson cushion, are given to him. He shows all that he is wearing green socks. Tom Kernan You deserve it, your honour. Bloom On this day twenty years ago we overcame the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith. Our howitzers and camel swivel guns played on his lines with telling effect. Half a league onward! They charge! All is lost now! Do we yield? No! We drive them headlong! Lo! We charge! Deploying to the left our light horse swept across the heights of Plevna and, uttering their warcry, Bonafide Sabaoth, sabred the Saracen gunners to a man. The Chapel of Freeman Typesetters Hear! Hear! John Wyse Nolan There’s the man that got away James Stephens. A Bluecoat Schoolboy Bravo! An Old Resident You’re a credit to your country, sir, that’s what you are. An Applewoman He’s a man like Ireland wants. Bloom My beloved subjects, a new era is about to dawn. I, Bloom, tell you verily it is even now at hand. Yea, on the word of a Bloom, ye shall ere long enter into the golden city which is to be, the new Bloomusalem in the Nova Hibernia of the future. Thirty two workmen wearing rosettes, from all the counties of Ireland, under the guidance of Derwan the builder, construct the new Bloomusalem. It is a colossal edifice, with crystal roof, built in the shape of a huge pork kidney, containing forty thousand rooms. In the course of its extension several buildings and monuments are demolished. Government offices are temporarily transferred to railway sheds. Numerous houses are razed to the ground. The inhabitants are lodged in barrels and boxes, all marked in red with the letters: L. B. Several paupers fall from a ladder. A part of the walls of Dublin crowded with loyal sightseers, collapses. The Sightseers Dying. Morituri te salutant. They die. A man in a brown macintosh springs up through a trapdoor. He points an elongated figure at Bloom. The Man in the Macintosh Don’t you believe a word he says. That man is Leopold M’Intosh, the notorious fireraiser. His real name is Higgins. Bloom Shoot him! Dog of a christian! So much for M’Intosh! A cannonshot. The man in the macintosh disappears. Bloom with his