All true heroes must enter the realm of the dead. Aeneas, Orpheus, Odysseus, and
Leopold Bloom—yes, Leopold Bloom—all take their turns as the living amongst the dead.
James Joyce’s Ulysses remains a vast labyrinth filled with classical allusion, formulating an
impressively modern epic. During the episode “Hades,” the Odysseus stand-in traverses the
cemetery, and like his predecessor, meets old souls. Scholars point towards a specific incident
when Joyce alludes to Odysseus’s encounter to Ajax. While scholars support that Bloom indeed
runs into an Ajax-like character in John Henry Menton, the allusion feels too short and anecdotal
to have a tangible meaning. I will suggest that by applying the Odysseus-Ajax relationship to
Bloom’s relationship with his father, and that perceiving their relationship through this classical
lens better articulates his nightmarish journey through the cemetery.
Scholars have already identified portions of “Hades” as an allusion to Odysseus’s and
Ajax’s encounter in the Odyssey. Towards the episode’s end, Leopold1
tells Menton that his “hat
is a little crushed,” who coldly “stares at him a little moment without moving” (Joyce 95). Only
when Marty Cunningham intervenes does Menton recognize the friendly gesture that he “bulged
out the dinge” and thanked him for his courtesy (95). This does represent the stony silence Ajax
gives Odysseus when their paths meet in the underworld, when Ajax “gave [Odysseus] no
answer, and turned away / into Erebus to join the other shades of the departed dead” (Homer 563-564). Menton’s disdain for Leopold reflects the cold shoulder Ajax offers Odysseus.
Additionally, Leopold waffles between getting back at Menton or continuing his day, until he
decides against it, figuring that when Menton realizes what he did Bloom will “get the pull over
him that way” (95). Odysseus, like his literary descendant, also ponders if he could begin a
conversation with Ajax despite “all his bitterness” (Homer 565). Eventually he chooses “to see
the shades of others,” but not before he reveals his own bitterness that he and Ajax cannot bury
the hatchet (568). For its brevity, Bloom’s exchange (or lack of) with Menton has a genuine
Homeric origin.
Although Ajax’s existence in Ulysses can be scholastically supported, the allusion’s
purpose remains relatively lackluster when viewed remotely. The reference could help Joyce
equal Homer’s seemingly exhaustive list of the famous Greek heroes Odysseus meets while in
the underworld. This may add depth to the relationship between Book XI and “Hades”
Additionally, both events occur towards their respective episode’s endings; the match is not
exact, but Joyce rarely considers exact congruence as requisite for his allusions. Neither Bloom’s
quip nor Odysseus’s soliloquy impacts the overarching plot of either tale. The reasoning for this
Ajax-like encounter in Ulysses could be a checkpoint for the story: one more nod from Joyce that
he is marrying his book with Homer’s, and further implications are not needed.
Rather than determining Ajax’s influence in “Hades” to this single occurrence, I suggest
that Joyce resurrects him into the text prior to Bloom’s incident with Menton, this time with a
stronger influence on Bloom’s character. Although “chapfallen,” the anguish that Bloom feels
derives from Menton’s stiff negligence (95). This differs from the anguish expressed by
Odysseus upon seeing Ajax, whose sorrow seeps much deeper than receiving a childish silent
treatment. Odysseus feels such strong sadness when seeing Ajax because of his proximity to him
at the time of his death. Sophocles’ Ajax recounts a funeral game for the fallen Achilles between Odysseus and Ajax. In response to Odysseus’s upset win, Ajax enters into a state of bloodlust
and kills the Achaean (Greek) flocks before he takes his own life. Verity’s translation mentions
the immense impact his suicide has on Odysseus, who says “we Achaeans grieve ceaselessly for
you now you are dead,” even “as much as we do for hero Achilles” (Homer 557-558). While the
emotions properly align, their intensity and their direction do not. The incident between Bloom
and Menton lacks the weight as the Odysseus-Ajax encounter. Rather, the context of Odysseus
and Ajax reflects a different character pairing in “Hades:” Leopold and Methuselah Bloom.
Two different people describe Methuselah Bloom’s death, Cunningham in “Hades” and
the narrator of “Cyclops.” Both agree that he “poisoned himself,” the account in Cyclops adding
“with prussic acid” (Joyce 275). The relationship between Methuselah and Ajax translated
beyond suicide. The “Cyclops” narrator recollects Methuselah as a “robbing bagman,” guilty of
“swamping the country with his baubles and penny diamonds” (275). And while his business
skills appeared appealing, offering “loans by post on easy terms” and “advancing any amount of
money with note on hand,” he remains a condemnable figure (275). Recalling the second-class
nature of Methuselah’s merchandise may allude to when Ajax spoils the cattle flocks during his
unconscious rage; both activities tarnish both a commendable product. Metuhuselah counterfeits
precious jewely and Ajax desecrated cattle preserved for the slaughter. They also carry a similar
importance to the protagonist in Ulysses and the Odyssey. Menton has no sentimental connection
with Leopold, whereas Methuselah, at minimum, hereditarily affects him. This more properly
aligns with the intense emotion Odysseus feels for his fallen comrade and rival. As strictly
following the immediate events between Odysseus and Ajax produces the allegory of Bloom and
Menton, adhering to the same event’s context produces another allegory between Leopold and
his father.
This new Odysseus-Ajax allegory sheds new light to the awkward but overall harmless
interaction Bloom has in the car with Mr. Power, Martin Cunningham, and Simon Dedalus.
Leopold’s does not physically approach his father during his descent into the underworld, but as
Power and Dedalus critique suicide as “the worst of all [death],” they inadvertently force him to
confront his father’s fate (Joyce 79). Compatible with many instances in Ulysses, where
Odysseus zigged, Bloom zagged. Again, silence follows the one-sided conversation, but this time
Leopold, Joyce’s Odysseus, “about to speak, closed his lips again,” and enters into roiling
thoughts (79). This moment plays upon Odysseus’s call for Ajax to “restrain his fury;” the fury
that Bloom restrains becomes his own (Homer 762). Odysseus capitulates his grief for Ajax
when he encounters him, while Bloom subverts whatever emotions he has for his Ajax, instead
mounting a snarling thought-rant against his oppressors (Joyce 80). In the Odyssey, Odysseus
argues for Ajax’s commemoration, downplaying his suicide to the point that he claims Zeus
“brought him to his doom” (Homer 560). Bloom, aided by Cunningham, had the opportunity to
defend his father’s death, parrying the stigmatism Power and Dedalus place on suicide. Instead,
he allows the conversation to die, and begins an inner dialog focused more on resent than
remorse. Never once does Bloom acknowledge how his father died, but through his response
when the memory surfaces, we see a slightly different unrest than the conflict from Greek
tradition. This presents an intriguing trichotomy between the three Odysseus-Ajax conflicts that
have been discussed. In the previously established allusion, Ajax (Menton) carries his bitterness
with him from the Odyssey; in the allusion I propose, Odysseus (Leopold) retains bitterness.
When analyzing where Joyce redirects this Odysseus-Ajax relationship, the distance
between Leopold and his nightmarish visions of the dead in “Hades” becomes more personal,
and perhaps more explainable. When he enters the cemetery, Leopold becomes enamored with
the dead and their keepers. Despite the grave humor which riddles the conversations while in the cemetery, interiorly Leopold slowly unfolds. Upon leaving the funeral party he admits he has had
“enough of this place. Brings you a bit nearer every time” and one more small quip during his
errant train of thought: “poor papa too. The love that kills” (Joyce 94). Entrenched between a
reference to a Dubliners character and the grotesque image of necrophilia is a bizarre reference
to Leopold’s father. Leopold associates two traditionally incompatible actions—loving and
killing—together, exposing the tension attached to the memory. This anguish better reflects
Odysseus’s emotions when meeting Ajax. The two greatest Achaean heroes remaining after the
sacking of Troy are now unable to talk with each other. This tension better explains why Leopold
struggles with the dead in “Hades.” Like Odysseus, Leopold feels the immense pressure between
his life and his father’s death, unable to release “the tale [he has] to tell” (Homer 561). How
Leopold handles the silence greatly differs, and taints his vision of the other deceased, turning
the funeral into a ghoulish procession. If Leopold’s relationship with Methuselah does not allude
to Odysseus and Ajax, then the episode loses a concreteness to Joyce’s nightmares.
The contrast between the Odysseus-Ajax and Leopold-Methuselah relationships
generates a more literary allusion than the more established Leopold-Menton pairing. While the
Leopold-Menton allusion is easily identifiable, it also feels incredibly ornamental. Contrarily, the
contrast between Homer’s heroes and Joyce’s premier father-son relationship enriches the
conversation behind “Hades,” further bonding the episode’s theme. Both the scholastically established allusion and the one I have presented increasingly authenticates Leopold as a
classical hero entering the underworld, but only one captures the character of the Greek hero—
tragically confronting a failed relationship of the past. The other struggles under the light of
function.
Works Cited
Homer. “Book XI.” The Odyssey, translated by Anthony Verity, Oxford UP, 2016, p. 223
Joyce, James. Ulysses. Ed. by Hans Gabler, 1984. http://www.joyceproject.com/#
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