Policemen in 1904 Dublin were large human beings, at least by
the standards of the day. Several chapters of Ulysses
comment sardonically on these towering hulks entrusted with
maintaining public order. In Circe, trying to curry
favor with two constables, Bloom praises the "Metropolitan
police, guardians of our homes, the pluckiest lads and the
finest body of men, as physique, in the service of our
sovereign."
As Gifford observes, "The minimum height requirement for the
Dublin Metropolitan Police in 1904 was five feet nine inches,
well above the stature of the ordinary Dubliner." Photographs
from the period show burly specimens, made more imposing by
their tall helmets, standing literally head and shoulders
above the citizens around them. Many of them were fresh off
the farm, and some city dwellers resented having their heads
cracked open by these rural Jethros.
In Calypso Bloom nurtures envy, remembering or
imagining the servant girl next
door being fondled by an off-duty constable. "They
like them sizeable," he thinks. In Lestrygonians
he indulges his contempt for the troglodytic bulk of
constables converging on their mess hall, some "Bound for
their troughs" and others marching contentedly away:
"Foodheated faces, sweating helmets, patting their truncheons.
After their feed with a good load of fat soup under their
belts. . . . Let out to graze. Best moment to attack one in
pudding time. A punch in his dinner."
Two paragraphs later, Bloom reflects that these men are "Nasty
customers to tackle." If anyone resists arrest
"they let him have it hot and heavy in the bridewell."
Typically, though, he thinks, "Can't blame them after all with
the job they have especially the young hornies." He recalls an
assault by mounted police on a political demonstration
that he attended in 1899, registering both the fact that
he was nearly "souped" and the fact that the policeman chasing
him fell off his mount and "Must have cracked his skull on the
cobblestones."
Cyclops continues the comic attacks when a riot
breaks out over the question of whether St. Patrick's birth
should properly be celebrated on March 8 or March 9: "The baby
policeman, Constable MacFadden, summoned by special courier
from Booterstown, quickly restored order and with lightning
promptitude proposed the seventeenth of the month as a
solution equally honourable for both contending parties. The
readywitted ninefooter's suggestion at once appealed to all
and was unanimously accepted. Constable MacFadden
was heartily congratulated by all the F.O.T.E.I., several of
whom were bleeding profusely."
By 1904 the D.M.P. had suppressed many political
demonstrations, but they became especially unpopular in 1913
when they helped
suppress striking laborers demonstrating for the right
to unionize under the leadership of James Larkin and James
Connolly. The backlash against the police brutality of those
months helped redefine the powers of the constabulary.
