Lord Roberts commanded the British forces in South Africa for
one year, from January to December 1900. He remained very
popular after handing the reins over to Lord Kitchener, so it
makes sense that Molly would have worn "a brooch"
bearing his image in a patriotic concert. The pin with the
general's image shown here was one of many sold in the UK. The
song
that Molly sang, "the absentminded beggar," was a
collaborative effort between Rudyard Kipling (words) and Sir
Arthur Sullivan (music) designed to raise money for veterans
and their families. But "the map of it all" is obscure.
A 50-year string of commentary has interpreted these words as
referring either to Molly's face or to that Lord Roberts.
There is a much more plausible explanation: Molly once owned a
handkerchief which displayed a map of South Africa.
In a personal communication, Vincent Van Wyk has called my
attention to the existence of these handkerchiefs. For nearly
three years Britain fought a war of imperial conquest in an
unfamiliar land on the other side of the globe, and newspapers
sometimes printed maps to help their readers make geographical
sense of what they were reading. Some enterprising
manufacturers also reproduced maps of the Transvaal and the
Orange Free State on pocket handkerchiefs which people could
buy and carry about. The handkerchiefs were produced and sold
in great numbers.
It is quite plausible that Molly, after she recalls wearing a
patriotic brooch at the concert, would then recall owning one of
these patriotic handkerchiefs. Perhaps she even brought it to
the show, conspicuously displayed on her person. At similar
British concerts today, singers often wear
clothes and accessories befitting
the patriotic theme.
Penelope makes clear that
Molly has many uses for handkerchiefs and appreciates showy
ones: "how did we finish it off yes O yes I pulled him off into
my handkerchief"; "weeks and weeks I kept the handkerchief under
my pillow for the smell of him"; "and the four paltry
handkerchiefs about 6/- in all sure you cant get on in this
world without style."
This literal reading of "the map of it all" makes far better
sense than the usual, figurative interpretation. In
The
Chronicle of Leopold and Molly Bloom (1977), John Henry
Raleigh writes that Molly's phrase "is an oblique reference, I
believe, to the common saying that someone has the map of
Ireland written all over his, or her, face. This constitutes the
only reference in the book to the fact that she looks Irish as
well as Spanish-Jewish" (182). In the second edition of
Ulysses
Annotated (1988), Don Gifford repeats Raleigh's reading:
"That is, she has the map of Ireland all over her face:
colloquial for 'it's obvious that she is Irish'." Sam Slote too
(2012, 2022) affirms this sense of the phrase, but he applies it
to Lord Roberts, who was born in India to Anglo-Irish parents:
"He has the map of Ireland written all over his face: 'he is
unmistakably Irish'."
None of these commentators makes any effort to explain how
the figurative meaning might mesh with a coherent
understanding of Molly's thought and syntax. When one attempts
to do so its limitations become obvious. Why would Molly think
that she looked Irish, and why would she recall one occasion
"when" she "had" it? People normally think of others having a
certain ethnic look, not themselves, and if she thinks she had
the look of the Irish when she sang at the concert, does that
mean she has since lost it? Still another implausibility is
that, as Raleigh admits, this would be the only time in the
novel when Molly is said to appear distinctively Irish: a
Spanish Jew, she has a dark complexion that makes her look
exotic. The difficulties continue. Does Molly remember looking
Irish at the time of the concert because she thinks it somehow
advantaged her? Even among relatives of the Irishmen fighting
in the British army in South Africa, it is hard to imagine how
an Irish-looking singer on the stage would make them support
English aggression more enthusiastically.
But perhaps Raleigh supposes that the phrase connects not
with the preceding words but with what comes after: "I had
the map of it all and Poldy not Irish enough was it him
managed it this time I wouldnt put it past him."
Construed in this way, Molly is jumping from thoughts of South
Africa to the issue of being hired for concerts: Bloom has
trouble getting gigs for her because he doesn't look Irish
enough, but she had the map of it all.... This reading too is
hard to square with the fact that Molly looks exotically dark,
and with the temporal limitation of only at one time having
had the look. Even more importantly, though, her Irish
appearance seems irrelevant to landing gigs, because Molly
never once thinks of finagling concert appearances herself. In
the male-dominated concert world of turn-of-the-century Dublin
(vividly represented in "A Mother,"
and Kathleen Kearney has popped into her thoughts only seconds
before), she leaves that to people like her husband and Blazes
Boylan.
Slote avoids these problems by assuming that "I had the map
of it all" refers not to Molly but to Lord Roberts, and his
reading has one advantage: an Irish audience supporting Irish
troops might well respond favorably to a British general who
looked Irish. But in addition to the tense problem (did he
subsequently lose the look?), the grammar of the sentence
makes this reading completely absurd. The grammatical subject
is "I." How could "I had the map of it all" possibly mean that
Lord Roberts had it?