Past & Present

At the dawn of the new day rests the corpse of the old at its feet. Those that survive the transition between the two must greet the horizon’s new challenges and endeavors, must carry on despite what is lost and what never will be again. To compensate for this bleary fate, individuals cling to habits and routines which act as kindling for their furnaces to start up once more. The rise of the morning, however, is sometimes overshadowed by the mourning that seeps up from memories. More specifically memories of limitations, lamenting what once was, what is not now, or what never will be.

James Joyce’s Ulysses possesses two characters in the form of Stephen Dedalus and Leopold Bloom, which mirror and juxtapose one another during their mornings on “16 June 1904” (Joyce 229). Stephen, the younger of the two, finds himself mourning what is, which limits his ability to overcome his past and to improve his potential future. Bloom, on the other hand, is mourning what was, resulting in a dreary present, despite his ability to foresee a brighter future.

Both characters start this journey in a similar manner, interacting with those who live with them. In Stephen’s case he is in a tower with Buck Mulligan and Haines. He interacts with Buck first, who gives him a friendly ribbing stating, “—The mockery of it…Your absurd name, an ancient Greek” (3).  Stephen, unfortunately, seems to not be in the mood for it as he shifts the topic to the other roommate, Haines, who was, according to Stephen, “Out here in the dark with a man I don’t know raving and moaning to himself about shooting a black panther,” which proceeds to him making the ultimatum, “If he stays on here I am off” (4).

Bloom, by contrast, interacts with a cat, rather than a human. He banters with it in a similar manner, though, with the line, “—Afraid of the chickens she is, he said mockingly…” indicating a commonality between his role and Buck’s role in the semi-familial relationships the characters find themselves a part of (55). This places Stephen into the position of the cat, which is the entity that is causing Haines’ distress, thus highlighting the indirect tension between the two characters. This tension is mediated by their respective third parties, Buck or Bloom, and in Blooms case the tension is between another character, his wife, Molly.

The morning continues apace with breakfast. The common thread of milk is interwoven into their meals, however the way in which it is gained and utilized is altered. With Stephen, the trio notice that, “…there’s no milk…[left, but they also know that]…That woman is coming up with the milk,” and all they have to do is wait (12). When she does come, Stephen notes that, “He watched her pour into the measure and thence into the jug rich white milk…[feeling the need to clarify that it is]…not hers,” showing that he is knowledgeable and potentially crude enough to understand the nuances of their relationship (13).

While Stephen and his roommates both partake and have to wait for their milk, Bloom does neither. In his case he simply, “…went to the dresser, took the jug Hanlon’s milkman had just filled for him, poured warmbubled milk on a saucer and set it slowly on the floor,” for his cat (56). The distinctions are additionally compounded by both the sex of the person delivering the milk and the manner in which they interact with one another. Bloom, having a milkman with whom he does not talk to, emphasizes his isolation, forethought, and wealth compared to Stephen, who is with companions, not thinking ahead, and, seeing as he does not fully pay the milkwoman, not wealthy (15).

The next similarity in their days is their choice of dress, as both wear black clothes, and each clothing choice is also in line with the challenges that they both face in their mourning. Stephen, refusing to let go of the past, rejects Buck’s offer to wear his clean pants as he, “…can’t wear them if they are grey,” because he is still in mourning for his dead mother (6). Buck indignantly protests the irony behind his choice stating that, “He can’t wear them…Etiquette is etiquette. He kills his mother…[because he refused to kneel and prey for her when she was ill]…but he can’t wear grey trousers,” on account of still mourning her death (6). Despite this comment, Stephen refuses to relent, insisting on wearing his black clothes, regardless of the fact that her funeral, and anything he can do to change the events that transpired, has already passed.

Bloom, though, is wearing black clothes out of obligation because he is going to a funeral during the day for a man called Dignam. He laments that it is going to, “Be a warm day I fancy. Specially in these black clothes feel it more,” showing that, while he does not want to exacerbate his suffering in the present, he is willing to do so to mourn the passing of someone he knows (57).

One thing that truly bridges the gap between the two characters is a shared experience, that of watching a cloud overtake the morning sun. In Stephen’s case, when the, “…cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly, shadowing the bay in deeper green…[he started to examine the ocean, which]…lay beneath him, a bowl of bitter waters” (9). This gazing upon the ocean waters entrances him into a nightmarish state where his unaddressed regret for not praying for his mother comes bubbling to the surface. He envisions:

Her glazing eyes, staring out of death, to shake and bend my soul. On me alone. The ghost candle to light her agony. Ghostly light on the tortured face. Her hoarse loud breath rattling in horror, while all prayed on their knees. Her eyes on me to strike me down…No mother. Let me be and let me live… (10)

As he festers in his fears he is only broken from his stupor when, “Buck Mulligan’s voice sang from within the tower. It came nearer up the staircase, calling again. Stephen, still trembling at his soul’s cry, heard warm running sunlight and in the air behind him friendly words” (10). This event illustrates how all-encompassing Stephen’s mourning is and how he is unable to combat it when it arises. Instead, he only manages to set it aside when others engage him back into reality, one which he can play a role in, a role that allows him to go through the motions, but not plan effectively towards a brighter future. Bloom’s battle with the cloud likewise starts out bleak with the:

…cloud…[that]…began to cover the sun wholly slowly wholly. Grey. Far…A dead sea in a dead land, grey and old. Old now. It bore the oldest, the first race. A bent hag crossed from Cassidy’s clutching a noggin bottle by the neck…Wandered far away over all the earth, captivity to captivity, multiplying, dying, being born everywhere. It lay there now. Now it could bear no more. Dead: an old woman’s: the grey sunken cunt of the world. Desolation… (61)

         The allegory that Bloom is depicting is an illusion to his aforementioned relationship with his wife, Molly. This illusion depicts the barrenness of their sexless marriage and how their second-born lived a brief life in captivity, dying shortly after he was born, leaving only the oldest child alive. Said loss brings desolation to them both, leading to the grey and old world that is depicted. This is not explicitly stated though, which further confounds the disconnect that Bloom has in focusing on this tragedy of the past.

Bloom, nevertheless, is able to reconnoiter his thoughts again, simply stating that he, “Got up on the wrong side of the bed…[so he]…Must begin again those Sandow’s exercises” (61). This difference not only shows that Bloom is wiser and more experienced with confronting his grief, but it also shows that he too has unresolved conflicts that he must misdirect to move on.

Side effects of this blockage limiting their ability to plan and reason can additionally be found in the surrendering of their convictions when conflict arises, notably in the relinquishing of a kidney and a key. In Bloom’s circumstance, when he is making his breakfast his, “…cat mewed hungrily against him,” requesting part of the kidney he is cooking (62). He decides against giving her some of the kidney because if he gives, “…her too much meat she won’t mouse,” which is something he wants her to do (62).

However, when he regrettably gets distracted, he burns the kidney. He examines it and determines that it is, “Only a little burnt. He tossed it off the pan on to a plate and let the scanty brown gravy trickle over it…[then, directly counter to what he was initially intending to do]…He shore away the burnt flesh and flung it to the cat,” which makes it less likely to mouse but also ends in the cat getting what it wants (65).

Correspondingly, Stephen notices that Buck, “…wants that key,” but he resolves himself to not give it to him because Stephen claims that, “It is mine…[and]…I paid the rent” (20). He, of course, ends up capitulating, as Buck wishes to swim and needs to have something to hold his clothes down. As Stephen needed something heavy to way it down, “Stephen handed him the key…[and]…Buck Mulligan laid it across his heaped clothes,” to keep them from blowing away, but also to acquire the key in the process (23).

Another intersection between the two is their fall into their vices in order to cope with their mourning. The most notable is lust, which both feed through peeping. Stephen, who leaves his friends near the later half of the morning, sees, “A woman and a man” on the beach and he states that, “I see her skirties. Pinned up, I bet” (46). What is notable is that in this act, the woman is accompanied by a partner, which does not dissuade him from looking, something which Bloom also ignores in his letters under the alias of “Henry Flower” (72). Bloom also attempts to see beneath a woman’s skirt but as he is in a crowd, the opposite of Stephen, he is only able to get a glimpse of, “Proud: rich: silk stockings…[as]…A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between…[him and his unsuspecting victim, forcing him to admit that she is]…Another gone,” that he cannot reach or see (74)

The difference between the two characters’ fantasies is expressed in how deep the daydreaming about sexual encounters goes. Stephen indulges in want as he thinks, “Touch me. Soft eyes. Soft soft soft hand. I am lonely here. O, touch me soon, now. What is that word known to all men? I am quiet here alone. Sad too. Touch, touch me,” which highlights his youthful wanton abandon unbridled by the consequences of the act itself (49).

Bloom, on the other hand, has experience and knowledge about the consequences of unchecked desires, and as a result, he stamps them down. An example of this is how he never intends to meet his pen pal, Martha, and how he recounts the conception of his dead son. He states that Rudy’s conception:

Must have been that morning in Raymond terrace she was at the window watching the two dogs at it by the wall of the cease to do evil. And the sergeant grinning up. She had that cream gown on with the rip she never stitched. Give us a touch, Poldy. God, I’m dying for it. How life begins (89).

While conceiving a child from the desire to mate like dogs is not a thing that causes ill health in the future baby, the guilt and shame of doing something immoral coupled with the loss that is suffered at the hands of fate still caused the disillusion of Molly and Bloom’s romance. This additional loss further compounds the suffering of the two individuals, which results in both trying to escape their circumstances, rather than face them. As a consequence, both fall further apart, mourning what was separately, creating a bleak present, in spite of the threads of propinquity still binding them together.

Stephen, who has yet to form a family of his own, finds himself mourning what is, what he lacks, what is not present in his life, forcing him to be stuck in both his past, present, and future. Bloom too, mourning what was, shackles himself to the past, which subsequently overshadows his present and future in the same malevolent cloud.