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H U G H KEN N ER zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
Hugh Kenner is Professor of English at the University of California,
Santa Barbara, and is the author ofzyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA The Poet ry of Ezra Pound, Wyndham Lewis, and Flaubert , Joyce, and Becket t : The St oic Com edians.
The P O R T R A I T in Perspect ive
L I N K I N G T H E M E S
I n the reconceived Port rait Joyce abandoned the origin al in -
t en t ion of wr it in g t h e account of his own escape from D u b l in .
O n e can n ot escape one's D u b l in . H e recast Stephen Dedalus
as a figure wh o cou ld n o t even detach h im self from D u b l in
because he h ad form ed h im self on a den ial of Du b lin 's values.
H e is t h e egocentric rebel become an u lt im at e. Th ere is no
quest ion whatever of his regenerat ion . "Stephen no longer in t er-
ests me t o the same exten t [as Blo o m ]," said Joyce t o Fran k
Budgen one day. "H e has a shape t h at can 't be changed." H is
shape is t h a t of aesthete. Th e Stephen of the first chapter of
Ulysses wh o "walks wearily," constan t ly "leans" on everyth ing
in sigh t , in variably sits down before he has gone th ree paces,
speaks "gloom ily," "q u ie t ly," "w i t h bit t erness," and "co ld ly,"
an d "suffers" his handkerch ief to be pu lled from his pocket by
t h e exuberant Mu ll iga n , is precisely t h e priggish , humourless
Stephen of the last chapter of the Port rait wh o cannot remem-
ber wh at day of t h e week i t is, sent imentalizes like Charles
Lam b over t h e "h u m an pages" of a second-hand La t in book,
conducts t h e in h u m an ly pedant ic dialogue wi t h Cran ly on
mother-love, writes French ified verses in bed in an erot ic swoon,
an d is epiphan ized at fu ll len gt h , like Shem th e Penm an be-
From Dublin's Joyce by Hugh Kenner. Reprinted by permission of
Indiana University Press and Chatto and Windus Ltd .
416
Hugh Kenner 417
neath t h e bedclothes, sh r in kin g from th e "com m on noises" of
d ayligh t :
Shrinking from that life he turned towards the wall, making a cowl
of the blanket and staring at the great overblown scariet flowers
of the tattered wallpaper. He t ried to warm his perishing joy in
their scarlet glow, imaging a roseway from where he lay upwards
to heaven all strewn wit h scarlet flowers. Weary! Weary! He too
was weary of ardent ways. [P, 221-222.]
Th is new primrose pat h is a private Jacob's ladder let down t o
his bed now t h at he is t oo weary t o do an yt h in g b u t go t o
heaven.
To make epic an d drama emerge n at u rally from t h e in t r in sic
stresses an d distort ions of t h e lyr ic m aterial m ean t completely
new lyr ic techniques for a constat ion exact beyond iron y. Th e
Port rait concentrates on st at in g themes, arranging apparen t ly
t ransparent words in t o configurat ions of t h e u t m ost symbolic
density. Here is t h e d irector proposing t h a t Stephen enter t h e
pr iesth ood :
The director stood in the embrasure of the window, his back to
the ligh t , leaning an elbow on the brown crossblind, and, as he
spoke and smiled, slowly dangling and looping the cord of the
other b lin d . Stephen stood before h im , following for a moment
wit h his eyes the waning of the long summer daylight above the
roofs or the slow deft movements of the priestly fingers. The priest's
face was in total shadow but the waning daylight from behind h im
touched the deeply grooved temples and the curves of the skull.
[P. 153-154-]
Th e looped cord , t h e shadow, the sku ll, none of these is ac-
ciden t al. Th e "wan in g d ayligh t ," twice emphasized, conveys
t h a t den ial of nature wh ich t h e priest 's oflice represented for
Stephen; "h is back t o t h e l igh t " co-operates t oward a sim ilar
effect. So "crossb lin d": "b l in d to the cross"; "b lin d ed by t h e
cross." "Th e curves of t h e sku ll" in t roduces another death-
image; the "deat h bon e" from Levy-Bruhl's Aust ralia, poin t ed by
Shaun in Finnegans Wake, is t h e dram at ic version of an id en t i-
cal sym bol. Bu t t h e cen t ral image, t h e epiphany of the in ter-
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view, is con tained in the m ovem en t of t h e priest 's fingers:
"slowly dan glin g and loop in g the cord of t h e other b l in d . " Th a t
is t o say, coolly proffering a noose. Th is is the lyr ic mode of
Ulysses' epical h an gm an , "Th e lo rd of th ings as they are wh om
the most Rom an of Catholics call dio boia, hangm an god ."
T H E C O N T R A P U N T A L O P E N I N G
Accord in g t o the pract ice inaugurated by Joyce wh en he re-
wrote "Th e Sisters" in 1906, the Port rait , like t h e t wo books t o
follow, opens am id elaborate coun t erpoin t . Th e first t wo pages,
t erm in at in g in a row of asterisks, enact t h e en t ire act ion in
microcosm. An Arist ot elian catalogue of senses, facult ies, an d
m en tal act ivit ies is played against the u n fold in g of the in fan t
conscience.
Once upon a t ime and a very good t ime i t was there was a moo-
cow coming down along the road and this moocow that was com-
ing down along the road met a nicens lit t le boy named baby
tuckoo. . . .
His father t old h im that story: his father looked at h im through
a glass: he had a hairy face.
He was baby tuckoo. The moocow came down along the road
where Bet ty Byrne lived : she sold lemon plat t .
O , t he wild rose blossom s
On t he lit t le green place.
He sang that song. Th at was his song.
O , t he green wot he bot het h.
W h en you wet the bed first it is warm then i t gets cold. His
mother put on the oilsheet. Th at had the queer smell. [P, 7.]
Th is evocat ion of holes in ob livion is conducted in t h e m ode
of each of t h e five senses in t u r n ; hearing ( t h e story of t h e
m oocow), sight (h is father's face), taste ( lem on p la t t ) , t ouch
(warm an d co ld ) , smell ( t h e oil-sheet ). Th e audible soothes:
the visible disturbs. Th rou gh ou t Joyce's work, the senses are
symbolically disposed. Smell is t h e means of d iscr im in at in g
em pirical reahties ( "H is m oth er h ad a n icer smell t h an h is
Hugh Kenner 419
fath er ," is t h e next sen tence), sight corresponds to the phan-
tasms of oppression, hearing to the im aginat ive life . Tou ch and
taste together are t h e modes of sex. Hearin g, here, comes first ,
via a piece of im aginat ive lit eratu re. Bu t as we can see from
th e vantage-point of Finnegans Wake, the whole book is abou t
t h e encounter of baby tuckoo wit h the m oocow: the Gripes
wi t h the mookse. Th e father wit h t h e h airy face is the first
Mookse-avatar, the Freudian in fan t ile analogue of God the
Father.
I n t h e Wake
. . . Derzherr, live wire, fired Benjermine Fun klin g outa t h 'Em -
pyre, sin right hand son.
Der Erzherr (arch -lord ), here a Teu t on ic Junker, is the God
wh o visited his wrat h on Lucifer; the h airy at t r ibu t e comes
t h rou gh via t h e music-hall refrain , "There's hair , like wire, com-
in g ou t of the Em p ir e ."
Dawn in g consciousness of his own id en t it y ( "H e was baby
t u ckoo") leads to art ist ic performance ( "H e sang t h at song.
Th a t was his son g."). Th is is hugely expanded in Chapter I V :
Now, as never before, his strange name seemed to h im a prophecy
. . . of the end he had been born to serve and had been following
through the mists of childhood and boyhood, a symbol of the
artist forging anew in his workshop out of the sluggish matter of
the earth a new soaring impalpable imperishable being. [P, 168-
169.]
By changing the red rose to a green and d islocat ing the spell-
in g, he makes the song his own . ( "Bu t you cou ld n ot have a
green rose. Bu t perhaps somewhere in the wor ld you cou ld .")
His mother had a nicer smell than his father. She played on the
piano the sailor's hornpipe for h im to dance. He danced:
Tralala lat a,
Tralala t ralaladdy,
Tralala lala
Tralala lala. [P, 7.]
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Between th is innocence and its Rim bau d ian recapture t h rou gh
th e pu rgat ion of t h e Wake there is t o in tervene the hallucina-
t io n in Circe's sty:
T H E M O T H E R
(Wit h t he subt le sm ile of deat h's m adness.) I was once the
beautiful May Goulding. I am dead. . . .
S T E P H E N
(Eagerly.) Tell me the word, mother, i f you know i t now. The
word known to all men . . . .
T H E M O T H E R
( W i t h smouldering eyes.) Repent! O , the fire of hell! [ U , 580-
581. Reprinted in this volume, p. 306.]
Th is is foreshadowed as the overture t o the Port rait closes:
He h id under the table. His mother said:
— O , Stephen will apologise.
Dante said:
— O , if n ot , the eagles will come and p u ll out his eyes.
Pull out his eyes.
Apologise,
Apologise,
Pull out his eyes.
Apologise,
Pull out his eyes,
Pull out his eyes.
Apologise. [P, 8]
Th e eagles, eagles of Rome, are emissaries of t h e God wi t h t h e
hairy face: t h e pun isher. Th ey evoke Prometheus an d gnawing
gu ilt : again-bite. So t h e overture ends wi t h Stephen h id in g
under t h e t able await in g t h e eagles. H e is h id in g under some-
t h in g most of t h e time: bedclothes, "t h e enigma of a m an n er ,"
an in durat ed rh etoric, or some other carapace of his private
wor ld .
Hugh Kenner 421
T H E M E W O R D S
I t is t h rou gh t h eir names t h at th ings have power over Ste-
ph en .
—Th e language in which we are speaking is his before i t is m ine.
H ow different are the words hom e, Christ , ale, m ast er, on his
hps and on mine! I cannot speak or write these words wit h ou t
unrest of spirit . His language, so familiar and so foreign, will always
be for me an acquired speech. I have not made or accepted its
words. My voice holds them at bay. My soul frets in the shadow of
his language. [P, 189.]
N o t on ly is t h e Dean 's En glish a conqueror's tongue; since
t h e loss of Adam 's words wh ich perfect ly m ir rored th in gs, a ll
language has conquered t h e m in d an d imposed it s own order,
askew from th e order of creat ion . W or d s, like t h e physical
wor id , are imposed on Stephen from wit h ou t , an d i t is i n t h eir
can ted m irrors t h a t h e glimpses a physical an d m oral wor ld
already dyed t h e colour of his own m in d since absorbed, wi t h
language, in t o his personality.
Words which he d id not understand he said over and over to h im -
self till he had leamt t h em by heart; arid through them he had
glimpses of the real world about h im . [P, 62.]
Language is a Tr o jan horse by wh ich t h e universe gets in t o t h e
m in d . Th e first sentence in t h e book isn 't som eth in g Stephen
sees b u t a story he is t o ld , an d t h e overture climaxes i n an in -
sistent brainless rh ym e, it s jin gle corrosively fascinat ing t o t h e
w i l l . I t has power t o t err ify a ch ild wh o knows n o t h in g of eagles,
or of Prometheus, or of h ow his own grown-up failure t o apolo-
gise wi l l b len d wi t h gathering blindness.
I t typifies t h e peculiar achievement of t h e Port rait t h a t Joyce
can cause pat terns of words t o make up t h e very m oral t exture
of Stephen's m i n d :
Suck was a queer word . The fellow, called Simon Moonan that
name because Simon Moonan used to tie the prefect's false sleeves
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behind his back and the prefect used to let on to be angry. But the
sound was ugly. Once he had washed his hands in the lavatory of the
W icklow hotel and his father pulled the stopper up by the chain
after and the d ir ty water went down through the hole in the basin.
An d when it had all gone down slowly the hole in the basin had
made a sound like t h at : suck. On ly louder.
To remember that and the white look of the lavatory made h im
feel cold and then h ot . There were two cocks that you turned and
the water came ou t : cold and hot . He felt cold and then a lit t le
h ot : and he could see the names prin ted on the cocks. Th at was a
very queer th in g. [P,zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA 11.]
"Suck" joins t wo contexts in Stephen's m in d : a p layfu l sinner
t oyin g wi t h his in d u lgen t superior, and t h e disappearance of
d ir t y water. Th e force of t h e con ju n ct ion is felt on ly after Ste-
phen has lost h is sense of the reality of t h e forgiveness of sins
in t h e confessional. Th e h ab it u ally orth odox pen it en t tangles
wi t h a God wh o pretends to be angry; after a recon ciliat ion t h e
process is repeated. An d the m ark of t h a t k in d of play is dis-
graceful servility. Each t im e t h e sin disappears, t h e sinner is
mocked by an impersonal voice ou t of n at u re: "Suck!"
Th is at t it u de t o unreal good an d evil furnishes a con text for
the next con ju n ct ion : whiteness and coldness. Stephen finds
h imself, like Sim on Moon an ,^ engaged in the r h yt h m of obe-
dience t o ir rat ion al au t h or it y, ben d in g his m in d t o a mean ing-
less act , t h e ar it h m et ic contest . H e is bein g obedien t ly "good ."
An d t h e appropriate colour is adduced: "H e t h ou gh t his face
m ust be wh it e because i t felt so cool."
Th e pallor of lu n ar obedien t goodness is next associated wi t h
dam p repulsiveness: the limpness of a wet b lan ket an d of a
servant's ap ron :
He sat looking at the two prints of but ter on his plate bu t could
not eat the damp bread. The tablecloth was damp and lim p . But he
drank off the h ot weak tea which the clumsy scullion, girt wit h a
^Joyce's names should always be scrutinized. Simon Moonan: moon:
the heatless (white) satellite reflecting virtue borrowed from Simon Peter.
Simony, too, is an activity naturally derived from this casually businesslike
attitude to priestly authority. [H.K.]
Hugh Kenner ^ j f
white apron, poured in to his cup. He wondered whether the^lOpK'
lion 's apron was damp too or whether all white things were, cold and
damp. [P. 12-13.]
Th rou gh ou t the first chapter an in t r in sic linkage, wh ite-cold-
damp-obedien t , insinuates it self repeatedly. Stephen after say-
in g his prayers, "h is shoulders shaking," "so t h a t he m igh t n o t
go t o h ell when he d ied ," "cu r ied h im self together under the
cold wh it e sheets, shaking an d t rem blin g. Bu t he wou ld n ot go
t o h ell when he d ied , an d t h e shaking wou ld st op ." Th e sea,
mysterious as the t err ib le power of God , "was cold day an d
n igh t , b u t i t was colder at n igh t "; we are rem in ded of An n a
Livia's gesture of submission : "M y cold father, m y cold m ad
father, m y cold m ad feary fath er" [in F W ] . "Th ere was a cold
n igh t smell in the chapel. Bu t i t was a h oly sm ell." Stephen is
puzzled by the phrase in t h e Lit an y of t h e Blessed Vi r g in :
Tower of Ivory. "H o w cou ld a wom an be a tower of ivory or a
house of gold?" H e ponders u n t i l the revelat ion comes:
Eileen had long white hands. One evening when playing t ig she
had put her hands over his eyes: long and white and t h in and cold
and soft. That was ivory: a cold white t h in g. Th at was the meaning
of Tower of Ivory. [P, 36.]
Th is in st an t of in sigh t depends on a sudden reshuffling of asso-
ciat ions, a sudden con vict ion t h at the Mot h er of God , and the
symbols appropriate to her, belong wi t h t h e cold , t h e wh it e , and
t h e unpleasant in a b lin d fo ld m oralit y of obedience. Con tem pla-
t io n focussed on language is repaid:
Tower of Ivory. House of Gold. By t h in kin g of things you could
understand them. [P, 43.]
Th e white-damp-obedien t association reappears when Ste-
phen is about t o make his confession after t h e celebrated re-
t reat ; it s pat terns provide the language in wh ich he t h in ks. Sin
has been associated wi t h fire, wh ile t h e prayers of the pen iten ts
are epiphan ized as "soft wh ispering cloudlet s, soft wh ispering
vapour, whispering an d van ish in g." An d h avin g been absolved:
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W h it e pudding and eggs and sausages and cups of tea. How simple
and beautiful was life after all! An d Hfe lay all before h im . . . .
The boys were all there, kneeling in their places. He knelt among
them, happy and shy. The altar was heaped wit h fragrant masses of
white flowers: and in the morn ing ligh t the pale flames of the can-
dles among the white flowers were clear and silent as his own soul.
[P, 146.]
W e cannot read Finnegans Wake u n t i l we have realized t h e
significance of t h e way the m in d of Stephen Dedalus is b ou n d
in by language. H e is n ot on ly an ar t ist : he is a Du b lin er .
T H E P O R T R A I T AS L Y R I C
Th e "in st an t of em ot ion ," of wh ich t h is 300-page lyr ic is t h e
"sim plest verbal vesture" is the exalted in st an t , emerging a t the
end of the book, of freedom, of vocat ion , of Stephen's dest iny,
win gin g his way above the waters at the side of t h e h awklike
m an : t h e in st an t of promise on wh ich t h e crush ing ironies of
Ulysses are to fa ll. TTie epic of t h e sea of m at t er is preceded
by t h e lyr ic image of a growin g d ream : a dream t h at like Rich -
ard Rowan 's i n Exiles disregards t h e fall of m an ; a dream
nourished by a sensitive you t h of flying above th e sea in t o an
uncreated heaven :
The spell of arms and voices: the white arms of roads, their
promise of close embraces and the black arms of t all ships that
stand against the m oon , their tale of distant nations. They are held
out to say: W e are alone. Come. An d the voices say wit h t h em :
W e are your kinsmen. An d the air is th ick wit h their company as
they call to me, their kinsman, making ready to go, shaking the
wings of their exultant and terrible youth . [P, 252.]
Th e em ot ion al qu alit y of th is is con t in uous wit h t h a t of t h e
Cou n t of Mont e Crist a, t h a t fantasy of t h e exile retu rn ed for
vengeance ( t h e p lo t of the Odyssey) wh ich kin d led so m an y of
Stephen's boyh ood dreams:
The figure of that dark avenger stood forth in his m in d for whatever
he had heard or divined in childhood 6f the strange and terrible.
At n igh t he bu ilt up on the parlour table an image of the wonder-
Hugft Kenner 42$
fu l island cave out of transfers and paper flowers and coloured tis-
sue paper and strips of the silver and golden paper in which choco-
late is wrapped. W h en he had broken up this scenery, weary of its
t insel, there would come to his m ind the brigh t picture of Mar-
seilles, of sunny trellisses and of Mercedes. [P, 62.]
Th e prose su rroun din g Stephen's flight is em purpled wi t h
transfers and paper flowers t oo. I t is n ot im m at u re prose, as
we m igh t suppose by comparison wit h Ulysses. Th e prose of
"Th e Dead " is m ature prose, and "Th e Dead " was wr it t en
in 1908. Rather, i t is a met iculous past iche of im m at u r it y. Joyce
has his eye constan t ly on the epic sequel.
He wanted to meet in the real world the unsubstantial image which
his soul so constantly beheld. He did not know where to seek i t or
how: but a premonit ion which led h im on told h im that this image
would, without any overt act of his, encounter h im . They would
meet quietly as if they had known each other and had made their
t ryst , perhaps at one of the gates or in some more secret place. They
would be alone, surrounded by darkness and silence: and in that
moment of supreme tenderness he would be transfigured. [P, 65.]
As t h e vaginal imagery of gates, secret places, and darkness im -
plies, t h is is t h e dream t h at reaches t em porary fu lfilm en t in t h e
plun ge in t o profane love, P, 100-101. Bu t t h e u lt im at e "secret
place" is t o be Mab b o t Street , outside Bella Cohen 's b rot h el;
the unsubstan t ial image of his quest, t h at of Leopold Bloom ,
advert isement canvasser—Monte Crist o, retu rn ed avenger, Ulys-
ses; an d the t ransfigurat ion , in t o the phan tasmal dead son of a
sen t im en tal Jew:
Against t he dark wdl a figure appears slowly, a fairy hoy of
eleven, a changeling, kidnapped, dressed in an Et on suit wit h glass
shoes and a lit t le bronze helm et , holding a book in his hand. He
reads from right t o left inaudibly, sm iling, kissing t he page. [U,
609.]
Th a t Dedalus t h e art ificer d id violence t o nature is t h e p oin t
of the epigraph from O vid , Et ignot as anim um dim it t it in art es;
t h e Icarian fall is in evit able.
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I n tedious exile now too lon g det ain 'd
Dedalus languish 'd for his nat ive lan d .
Th e sea foreclos'd his flight; yet thus he said,
Th ou gh earth and water in subject ion la id ,
O cruel Min os, t h y d om in ion be.
W e ' l l go t h rou gh air; for sure t h e air is free.
Then t o new art s his cunning t hought applies.
And t o im prove t he work of nat ure t ries.
Stephen does n ot , as the careless reader may suppose, become
an art ist by reject ing church an d coun t ry. Stephen does n ot
become an art ist at a ll. Cou n t ry, ch u rch , an d mission are an
inext ricable u n it y, an d in reject ing t h e t wo t h at seem to hamper
h im , he rejects also t h e one on wh ich he has set h is heart . Im -
provin g t h e work of nature is h is obvious am bit ion ( "Bu t
you cou ld n ot have a green rose. Bu t perhaps somewhere in
the wor ld you co u ld ") , and i t logically follows from th e aes-
th et ic he expounds t o Lyn ch . I t is a neo-platonic aesthetic; the
crucial p r in cip le of epiphan izat ion has been wit h d rawn . H e
imagines t h at "t h e loveliness t h a t has n o t yet come in t o t h e
wo r ld ," is t o be fou n d in his own soul. Th e earth is gross, and
wh at i t brings fo r t h is cowdung; sound an d shape an d colour are
"t h e prison gates of our sou l"; an d beauty is som eth ing mys-
teriously gestated wi t h in . Th e genuine art ist reads signatures,
the fake art ist forges t h em , a process adum brated in t h e ob-
session of Shem the Penman ( from Jim t he Penm an, a forgot-
t en drama about a forger) wit h "Macfearsome's Ossean," t h e
most famous of lit erary forgeries, st udyin g "h ow cutely t o
copy a ll t h eir various styles of signature so as one day t o u t t er an
epical forged cheque on the pu b lic for h is own private p r o fit ."
O n e can sense a ll t h is in t h e first four chapters of t h e Port rait ,
an d Ulysses is un equivocal:
Fabulous artificer, the hawklike man. You flew. Whereto? New-
haven-Dieppe, steerage passenger. Paris and back. [U,zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA 210.]
Th e Stephen of t h e end of the fou r t h chapter, however, is st ill
unstable; he h ad t o be brough t in t o a final balance, an d shown
Hugh Kenner 427
at some len gt h as a being whose developm en t was vir t u ally
ended. Un for t u n at ely, t h e last chapter makes t h e book a pecul-
iar ly d ifficu lt one for the reader to focus, because Joyce h ad t o
close i t on a suspended ch ord . As a lyr ic, i t is finished in it s
own terms; b u t t h e themes of the last for t y pages, t h ough they
give t h e illu sion of focussing, d on 't really focus u n t i l we have
read well in t o Ulysses. Th e final chapter, wh ich in respect to t h e
juggernaut of Ulysses m ust be a vulnerable flank, in respect t o
wh at has gone before m ust be a conclusion . Th is problem Joyce
d id n ' t wh olly solve; there remains a m oral am bigu it y (h ow
seriously are we to take Stephen?) wh ich makes t h e last forty
pages pain fu l reading.
N o t t h at Stephen wou ld stand in defin it ely if Ulysses d id n ' t
t opple h im over; h is equ ilib r iu m in Chapter V, t h ough good
enough to give h im a sense of unusual in t egr it y in Un iversity
College, is precarious unless he can manage, in t h e manner of so
many perm anen t undergraduates, t o prolon g t h e college con text
for t h e rest of his life. Each of t h e preceding chapters, in fact ,
works t oward an equ ilib r iu m wh ich is dashed wh en in the next
chapter Stephen's wor ld becomes larger an d t h e frame of refer-
ence more complex. Th e terms of equ ilib r iu m are always stated
wi t h d isqu iet in g accuracy; at t h e end of Ch apt er I we find:
He was alone. He was happy and free: but he would not be anyway
proud wit h Father Dolan . He would be very quiet and obedient:
and he wished that he could do something kin d for h im to show
h im that he was not proud. [P, 59.]
An d at the end of Chapter I I I :
He sat by the fire in the kitchen , not daring to speak for happi-
ness. T i l l that moment he had not known how beautiful and peace-
ful life could be. The green square of paper pinned round the
lamp cast down a tender shade. O n the dresser was a plate of sau-
sages and white pudding and on the shelf there were eggs. They
would be for the breakfast in the morning after the communion
in the college chapel. W h it e pudding and eggs and sausages and
cups of tea. How simple and beautiful was life after all! An d life
lay all before h im . [P, 146.]
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N o t "ir o n y" b u t sim ply t h e t r u t h : t h e good life conceived in
terms of wh it e pudd in g and sausages is unstable enough t o
need no u n d er lin in g.
Th e even-numbered chapters make a sequence of a differen t
sort . Th e en d in g of I V, Stephen's pan t in g submission t o an
art ist ic vocat ion :
Evening had fallen when he woke and the sand and arid grasses
of his bed glowed no longer. He rose slowly and, recalling the rap-
ture of his sleep, sighed at its joy. [P, 173],
—hasn 't qu it e t h e fin alit y oft en read in t o i t wh en t h e explicit
parallel wit h the en din g of I I is perceived:
He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to her, body and m in d ,
conscious of noth ing in the world but the dark pressure of her
softly part ing lips. They pressed upon his brain as upon his lips as
though they were the vehicle of a vague speech; and between them
he felt an unknown and t im id pressure, darker than the swoon of
sin , softer than sound or odour. [P, 101.]
W h e n we l in k these passages wi t h t h e fact t h a t t h e one piece of
lit erary com posit ion Stephen actually achieves in t h e book
comes ou t of a wet dream ("Towards dawn he awoke. O wh at
sweet music! H is soul was a ll dewy we t ") we are in a posit ion t o
see t h at t h e con clud in g "W elcom e, O l i fe !" has an air of fin alit y
an d balance on ly because t h e d iary-form of the last seven pages
disarms us wi t h an illu sion of auctorial im p ar t ia lit y.
C O N T R O L L I N G I M A G E S :
C L O N G O W E S A N D B E L V E D E R E
Ego VS. au t h or it y is the them e of t h e three odd-numbered
chapters, D u b l in vs. the dream t h at of the t wo even-numbered
ones. Th e generic Joyce p lo t , t h e encounter wit h t h e alter ego,
is consummated wh en Stephen at t h e end of the book ident ifies
h im self wi t h t h e sanctified Stephen wh o was stoned by t h e
Jews after repor t in g a vision (Act s V I I , 56) an d claims sonship
wit h t h e classical Daedalus wh o evaded th e ru ler of lan d and
sea by t u r n in g his soul t o obscure arts. Th e episodes are b u i l t
Hugh Kenner 429
abou t adum brat ions of t h is encoun ter: w i t h Father Conm ee,
w i t h Mo n t e Cr ist o, w i t h t h e whores, wi t h t h e broad-shouldered
moustached studen t wh o cu t t h e word "Foet u s" in a desk, wit h
t h e weary m i ld confessor, wit h the b ird -gir l. Th rou gh th is re-
peated p lo t in t er t win e con t rollin g emot ions an d con t rollin g
images t h at m ou n t in com plexit y as t h e book proceeds.
I n Chapter I t h e con t ro llin g em ot ion is fear, an d the d om i-
n an t image Father Do lan and his pandybat ; t h is, associated
wi t h the hangman-god and t h e priest ly den ial of t h e senses, was
t o become one of Joyce's standard images for Ir ish clericalism —
hence the jack-in-the-box appearance of Father Dolan in Circe's
n igh tm are im broglio , h is pandybat cracking twice like thun der
[ in Ulysses]. Stephen's com m en t , in t h e mode of Blake's repudi-
at ion of the God wh o slaughtered Jesus, emphasizes the in clu -
siveness of the im age: " I never cou ld read H is h an d wr it in g
except H is cr im in al t h u m b p r in t on t h e h addock."
Chapter I I opens wi t h a t r ip le image of Du b lin 's f)reposses-
sions: music, sport , religion . Th e first is exh ibit ed via Un cle
Charles singing sen t im en tal ballads in t h e outhouse; the second
via Stephen's r it u a l r u n aroun d t h e park under t h e eye of a
superannuated t rain er, wh ich his uncle en joins on h im as t h e
wh ole d u t y of a Du b lin er ; the t h ir d via t h e clumsy piety of-
Un cle Charles, kn eelin g on a red handkerch ief and reading
above h is breath "fr o m a t h um bblacken ed prayerbook wherein
catchwords were p r in t ed at t h e foot of every page." Th is t r in it y
of themes is u n wou n d an d en twin ed t h rou gh ou t t h e chapter,
like a n et woven rou n d Stephen; i t underlies the cen t ral in -
ciden t , t h e W h it su n t id e play in t h e Belvedere chapel ( r e ligion ) ,
wh ich opens wit h a display by the dum b-bell team (sport )
preluded by sen t im en tal waltzes from th e soldier's band (m u -
sic) .
W h i l e he is wait in g t o play his part , Stephen is t aun ted by
fellow-students, wh o rally h im on a fancied love-affair an d
sm it in g his calf wi t h a cane b id h im recite t h e Confit eor. H is
m in d goes back t o an analogous in cid en t , wh en a sim ilar pun -
ish m en t had been visit ed on his refusal t o "a d m it t h at Byron
was no good ." Th e further analogy wi t h Father Dolan is ob-
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vious; love, ar t , an d personal independence are thus u n it ed in
an ideogram of t h e prepossessions Stephen is det erm in ed t o
cu lt ivat e in t h e t eeth of persecut ion .
Th e dream-world Stephen nourishes wi t h in h im self is played
against manifestat ions of music, sport , an d religion t h rou gh ou t
t h e chapter. Th e constan t iron ic clash of D u b l in vs. t h e Dream
animates Chapter I I , as t h e clash of t h e ego vs. au t h or it y d id
Chapter I . Al l these themes come t o focus d u r in g Stephen's
visit wi t h his father to Cork. Th e dream of rebellion h e has
silen t ly cu lt ivat ed is externalized by the discovery of t h e word
Foet us carved in a desk by a forgot t en medical st uden t :
I t shocked h im to find in the outer worid a trace of what he had
deemed till then a brutish and individual malady of his own m in d .
His recent monstrous reveries came thronging in to his memory.
They too had sprung up before h im , suddenly and furiously, out of
mere words. [P, 90 .]
Th e possibility of shame gain in g t h e upper h an d is dashed,
however, by t h e sudden banal in t iu sion of his father's conversa-
t ion ( "W h e n you kick ou t for yourself, Stephen—^as I daresay
you wi l l one of those days—remember, whatever you do, t o m ix
wit h gen t lem en .") . Against t h e standards of D u b l in his
monstrous reveries acquire a Satanic glamour, and the t raum a
is slowly d ivert ed in t o a resolu t ion t o rebel. Aft er his father
has expressed a resolve to "leave h im t o his Maker " ( r e ligion ) ,
and offered to "sin g a tenor song against h i m " (m usic) or "vau lt
a fivebarred gate against h i m " ( sp o r t ) , Stephen muses, wat ch in g
his father an d t wo cronies d r in k in g to t h e m em ory of t h eir
past :
An abyss of fortune or of temperament sundered h im from them.
His m in d seemed older than theirs: i t shone coldly on their strifes
and happiness and regrets like a moon upon a younger earth. No
life or youth stirred in h im as i t had stirred in them. He had known
neither the pleasure of companionship wit h others nor the vigour
of rude male health nor filial piety. Not h in g stirred wit h in his soul
but a cold and cruel and loveless lust . [P, 95-96.]
Hugft Kenner 431
Aft er one final effort t o compromise vwth D u b l in on Du b lin 's
"terms has collapsed in t o fu t i l i t y ( "Th e p ot of p in k enamel pain t
•gave ou t and the wainscot of his bedroom remained wi t h it s
t in fin ished and illplastered co a t ") , he fiercely cult ivates his
rebellious though t s, an d m ovin g by day an d n igh t "am on g dis-
' t or t ed images of the ou ter wo r id ," plunges at last in t o the arms
•o f whores. "Th e h oly encounter he h ad t h en im agin ed at wh ich
weakness an d t im id i t y and inexperience were to fall from h i m , "
finally anives in inversion of Father Dolan 's an d Un cle Charles'
religion : h is descent in t o n igh t -t own is accompanied by lu r id
•evocations of a Black Mass:
Th e yellow gasflames arose before his t roubled vision against the
vapoury sky, bum in g as if before an altar. Before the doors and in
the hghted halls groups were gathered arrayed as for some rite. He
was in another world : he had awakened from a slumber of cen-
turies. [P, 100.]
C O N T R O L L I N G I M A G E S :
S I N A N D R E P E N T A N C E
Each chapter i n t h e Port rait gathers up t h e t h em at ic m aterial
o f t h e preceding ones an d entwines t h em wi t h a d om in an t
•t h em e of it s own . I n Chapter I I I the fear-pandybat m o t if is
present in Father Am all's crudely m aterialist ic h ell, of wh ich
even t h e thickness of t h e walls is specified; and t h e Dublin -vs.-
dream m o t if has iron ic in flect ions in Stephen's terror-st ricken
broodings, wh en t h e dream has been twist ed in t o a dream of
holiness, and even D u b l in appears t ransfigured:
How beautiful must be a soul in the state of grace when God
looked upon i t wit h love!
Frowsy giris sat along the curbstones before their baskets. Their
dank hair hung trailed over their brows. They were not beautiful
t o see as they crouched in the mire. But their souls were seen by
God; and if their souls were in a state of grace they were radiant to
see: and God loved th em , seeing them. [P, 140.]
A rapprochem ent i n these terms betweert t h e outer wor id and
Stephen's desires is t oo inadequate t o need commentary; an d
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i t makes vivid as n o t h in g else cou ld t h e hopeless inversion of
his at t em pt ed self-sufficiency. I t underlines, in yet another way,
his persistent sin : and the d om in an t them e of Chapter I I I is Sin .
A fugue-like open ing plays upon t h e Seven Deadly Sins in t u r n ;
glu t t on y is in t h e first paragraph ("Stu ff i t in t o you , h is belly
counselled h i m ") , followed by lust , t h en sloth ( "A cold lu cid
indifference reigned in his so u l") , p r ide ( "H is pride in h is own
sin , his loveless awe of God , t o ld h i m t h at h is offence was too
grievous t o be atoned fo r ") , anger ( "Th e b lu n der in g answer
st irred the embers of his con t em pt for his fe llows") ; fin ally, a
recapitu lat ion fixes each t erm of t h e m or t al catalogue in a
phrase, en um erat in g h ow "fr o m t h e evil seed of lust a ll t h e
other deadly sins h ad sprung fo r t h ."
Priest an d punisher in h ab it Stephen h im self as well as Du b -
l i n : wh en he is deepest in sin he is most t h orough ly a the-
ologian . A paragraph of gloom y in t rospect ion is juxtaposed wi t h
a list of theological questions t h a t puzzle Stephen's m in d as he
awaits the preacher:
Is baptism wit h a mineral water valid? How comes i t that while the
first beatitude promises the kingdom of heaven to the poor of
heart, the second beatitude promises also to the meek that they
shall possess the land? . . . If the wine change in to vinegar and
the host crumble in t o corrupt ion after they have been consecrated
is Jesus Christ st ill present under their species as God and as man?
—Here he is! Here he is!
A boy from his post at the window had seen the rector come from
the house. All the catechisms were opened and all heads bent upon
them silently. [P, 106-107.]
W i n e changed in t o vinegar an d t h e host crum bled in t o corrup-
t ion fits exact ly t h e Ir ish clergy of "a ch urch wh ich was t h e
scullery-maid of Ch r ist en d om ." Th e excited "H ere he is! Here
he is!" followin g h ard on t h e m en t ion of Jesus Ch r ist an d sig-
n allin g n o t h in g more porten tous t h an t h e rector makes t h e
p o in t as dram at ically as an yt h in g in t h e book, an d t h e clin ch in g
sentence, w i t h t h e students suddenly ben d in g over t h eir cate-
chisms, places t h e rector as t h e vehicle of pandybat m oralit y.
Th e last of t h e theological questions is the t ellin g quest ion .
Hugh Kenner 433
Stephen never expresses d o u b t of t h e exist en ceof God n or of
t h e essential valid it y of t h e priest ly office—his Non serviam is
n ot a non credo, and he talks of a "m alevolen t realit y" beh in d
these appearances—but t h e win e and bread t h a t were offered for
his venerat ion were changed in t o vinegar an d crum bled in t o cor-
r u p t ion . An d i t was th e knowledge of t h at un derlyin g valid it y
clash ing wit h h is refusal t o do homage t o vinegar and rot t h a t
evoked his am bivalen t poise of egocentric despair. Th e h ell of
Father Am all's sermon, so em ot ion ally overwh elm in g, so pica-
yune beside the horrors t h a t Stephen's im agin at ion can gen-
erate, h ad no more on tological con t en t for Stephen t h an h ad
"an et ern ity of bliss i n t h e company of the dean of studies."
Th e conflict of th is cen t ral chapter is again between the
phan tasmal an d the real. W h a t is real—psychologically real,
because realized—is Stephen's anguish an d remorse, and its
con text in the life of t h e flesh. W h a t is phan tasmal is t h e
."heaven" of the Ch u rch and the "good l i fe " of t h e priest . I t is
: on ly fear t h at makes h im clu t ch after the lat t er at a ll; his reach-
i n g ou t after orthodox salvat ion is, as we have come t o expect,
presented in terms t h at judge i t :
Th e win d blew over h im and passed on to the myriads and myriads
pf other souls on whom God's favour shone now more and now
iess, stars now brighter and now dimmer, sustained and failing.
An d the glimmering souls passed away, sustained and failing,
merged in a moving breath. One soul was lost; a t in y soul: his. I t
flickered once and went out , forgotten, lost . The end: black cold
void waste.
Consciousness of place came ebbing back to h im slowly over a
vast tract of t ime u n lit , unfelt , unlived. The squalid scene composed
itself around h im ; the common accents, the burn ing gasjets in the
shops, odours of fish and spirits and wet sawdust, moving men and
women. An old woman was about to cross the street, an oilcan in
her hand. He bent down and asked her was there a chapel neat.
[P, 140-141.]
Th a t wan waste wor ld of flickering stars is t h e best Stephen
has been able t o do towards an im aginat ive grasp of t h e cort i-
m u n io n of Saints sustained by God ; "u n l i t , un felt , u n lived "
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explains succinct ly wh y i t h ad so l i t t le h o ld on h i m , once fear
had relaxed. Equally per t in en t is t h e vision of h u m an t em poral
occupat ions t h e sermon evokes:
W h a t d id i t profit a man to gain the whole world if he lost his soul?
At last he had understood: and human life lay around h im , a plain
of peace whereon antlike men laboured in brotherhood, their dead
sleeping under quiet mounds. [P, 126.]
To m ain t ain t h e life of grace i n t h e m idst of n ature, sus-
tained by so cramped a vision of t h e life of nature, wou ld mean
m ain t ain in g an in tolerable tension . Stephen's un relen t in g p h il-
osophic bias, his det erm in at ion t o understand wh at he is abou t ,
precludes his adopt in g the double standard of t h e Dublin ers; t o
live b o t h the life of nature and t h e life of grace he m ust en joy
an im aginat ive grasp of t h eir relat ionsh ip wh ich stun ts n either .
"N o one d o t h well against h is w i l l , " writes Sain t August in e,
"even t h ough wh at he d o t h , be we ll"; and Stephen's w i l l is
firm ly hamessed to his understanding. An d there is no one in
D u b lin t o help h im achieve understanding. Father Am all's
sermon precludes rather t h an secures a desirable ou tcom e, for
i t follows t h e modes of pandybat m oralit y an d D u b l in m aterial-
it y. It s on ly possible effect on Stephen is t o lash his d orm an t
conscience in t o a frenzy. Th e descript ion of H e ll as "a st rait an d
dark an d foulsmeUing prison , an abode of demons an d lost
souls, filled wi t h fire an d smoke," wi t h walls four thousand
miles t h ick , it s damned packed in so t igh t ly t h a t "t h ey are n ot
even able to remove from the eye t h e worm t h at gnaws i t , " is
ch ild ish ly grotesque beneath it s sweeping eloquence; an d t h e
h air -sp lit t in g catalogues of pains—pain of loss, pain of con-
science (d ivided in t o three heads), pain of extension , pain of
in t en sity, pain of etern ity—is cast i n a brainlessly an alyt ic
mode t h at effectively prevents any corresponding Heaven from
possessing any reality at a ll.
Stephen's unstable pact wi t h t h e Ch u rch , an d its d issolu t ion ,
follows t h e pat t ern of com posit ion an d dissipat ion established
by h is other dreams: the dream for example of the t ryst w i t h
"Mercedes," wh ich fou n d iron ic realit y am ong harlot s. I t paral-
Hugh Kenner 435
exactly h is earlier a t t em p t t o "b u i ld a breakwater of order
an d elegance against t h e sordid t ide of life wit h o u t h i m , " whose
failu re, wit h the exhaust ion of his money, was epiphan ized in
t h e run n in g-dry of a p ot of p in k enamel pain t . H is regimen at
t h a t t im e : zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA\
He bought presents for everyone, overhauled his rooms, wrote out
resolutions, marshalled his books up and down their shelves, pored
over all kinds of price lists . . . [P, 97-98.]
is m irrored by his searching after sp ir it ual im provem en t :
H is daily life was laid out in devotional areas. By means of ejacula-
tions and prayers he stored up ungrudgingly for the souls in purga-
t ory centuries of days and quarantines and years. . . . He offered
,up each of his three daily chaplets that his soul m igh t grow strong
in each of the three theological virtues. . . . O n each of the seven
days of the week he further prayed that one of the seven gifts of
the Holy Ghost m igh t descend upon his soul. . . . [P, 147-148.]
Th e "loan ban k" he h ad opened for t h e fam ily, ou t of wh ich
h e h ad pressed loans on will in g borrowers "t h a t he m igh t have
t h e pleasure of m akin g ou t receipts and reckon ing t h e interests
on sums len t " finds it s coun terpart in t h e benefits he stored up
for souls in purgatory t h a t he m igh t enjoy t h e sp ir it ual t r iu m p h
o f "ach ieving wi t h ease so many fabulous ages of canonical
penances." Bo t h projects are parodies on t h e doct r in e of econ-
om y of grace; b o t h are at t em pt s, corrupted by m ot ivat in g self-
in terest , t o make peace wi t h D u b l in on Du b lin 's own terms;
an d b o t h are short -lived .
As th is precise analogical st ructure suggests, t h e act ion of
each of the five chapters is really t h e same act ion . Each chapter
closes wi t h a synthesis of t r iu m p h wh ich t h e n ext destroys.
Th e t r iu m p h of t h e appeal t o Father Conm ee from lower
au t h or it y, of the appeal t o the harlots from D u b l in , of t h e
appeal t o the Ch u rch from sin , of t h e appeal t o ar t from th e
priesthood ( t h e b ird -gir l instead of t h e Vi r g in ) is always t h e
same t r iu m p h raised t o a more comprehensive level. I t is an
a t t em p t t o find new parents; new fathers i n t h e odd chapters.
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new objects of love in t h e even. Th e last version of Father
Conmee is t h e "priest of the eternal im agin at ion "; t h e last
version of Mercedes is t h e "lu re of t h e fallen seraph im ."
Bu t t h e last version of t h e m oth er wh o said, "O , Stephen wi l l
apologise" is t h e m oth er wh o prays on the last page "t h a t I
may learn in m y own life and away from hom e an d friends wh at
t h e heart is an d wh at i t feels." Th e m ot h er remains. zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
T H E D O U B L E F E M A L E
As in Dubliners and Exiles, t h e female role i n t h e Port rait
is less t o arouse t h an t o elucidate masculine desires. Hence t h e
complex fu n ct ion in t h e book of physical love: the physical
is t h e analogue of t h e sp ir it ual, as St . August in e insisted in his
Confessions (wh ich , w i t h Ibsen's Brand, is the ch ief archetype
of Joyce's b o o k ) . Th e poles between wh ich th is affect ion
moves are those of St. August in e an d St . Joh n : t h e W h o r e of
Babylon an d t h e Bride of Ch r ist . Th e relat ion between t h e
t wo is far from simple, an d Stephen moves in a constan t t en -
sion between t h em .
H is desire, figured in t h e visions of Mo n t e Cristo's Mercedes,
"t o meet in t h e real wor ld the unsubstan t ial image wh ich h is
soul so constan t ly beh eld " draws h i m toward t h e p rost it u t e
( "I n her arms h e felt t h a t he h ad suddenly become st rong
an d fearless an d sure of h im self") an d simultaneously t oward
the vaguely sp ir it ual sat isfact ion represented wit h equal vague-
ness by t h e wrait h like E — - C , t o wh o m he twice writes
verses. Th e Em m a Clery of St ephen Hero, w i t h her lou d
forced manners an d her body com pact of pleasure, was re-
fined in t o a wra it h wit h a pair of in it ials t o parallel an in -
t angible Ch u r ch . She is con t in u ally assimilated t o t h e image
of t h e Blessed Vir g in an d of t h e heavenly Bride. Th e t or t u re
she costs h im is t h e t or t u re his apostasy costs h im . H is flir t a-
t ion wi t h her is h is flirtation wi t h Ch r ist . H is profane villan elle
draws it s imagery from religion —t h e incense, t h e eucharist ic
h ym n , the chalice—and her heart , followin g Dan te's image,
is a rose, and in her praise "t h e earth was like a swinging
swaying censer, a ball of incense."
Hugh Kenner 437
Th e wom an is t h e Ch u rch . H is vision of greet ing Mercedes
w i t h "a sadly p roud gesture of refusal":
—Madam , I never eat muscatel grapes. [P, 63.]
' is fu lfilled wh en he refuses his Easter com m u n ion . Emma's
eyes, in t h eir one exp licit encounter, speak t o h i m from beneath
a cowl. "Th e glories of Mar y h eld his soul capt ive," and a
t em porary recon ciliat ion of his lust and his sp ir it ual t h irst
is achieved as he reads the Lesson ou t of t h e Song of Solom on .
I n t h e m idst of his repentance she funct ions as imagined
m ed iat or : "Th e image of Em m a appeared before h i m , " an d ,
repen t in g, "h e im agin ed t h at he stood near Em m a in a wide
lan d , an d , h u m b ly an d in tears, ben t an d kissed the elbow
of her sleeve." Like Dan te's Beatrice, she manifests in his
earth ly experience t h e Ch u rch Tr iu m p h an t of his spir it ual
d ream . An d wh en he rejects her because she seems to be
flirting wit h Father Mo r a n , h is anger is couched in the an t i-
clerical terms of his apostasy: "H e h ad done well t o leave her
' t o flirt wi t h her priest , t o t oy wi t h a ch urch wh ich was the
SCuUerymaid of Christ endom ."
Th a t Kath leen n i H ou lih an can flirt w i t h priests is t h e un -
forgivable sin un der lyin g Stephen's reject ion of Irelan d . Bu t
h e makes a clear d ist in ct ion between t h e st up id clericalism
wh ich makes in t ellect ual an d com m un al life impossible, an d his
long-nourished vision of an art ist 's Ch u rch Tr iu m p h an t upon
ear t h . H e rejects the actual for daring to fall short of his vision .
T H E F I N A L B A L A N C E
Th e clim ax of t h e book is of course Stephen's ecstatic dis-
covery of his vocat ion at t h e end of Ch apt er I V. Th e prose
rises in nervous excit em en t t o beat again an d again the t am -
bours of a fin-de-si^cle ecstasy:
His heart trembled; his breath came faster and a wild spirit
passed over his limbs as though he were soaring sunward. His heart
t rembled in an ecstasy of fear and his soul was in flight. His soul
was soaring in an air beyond the worid and the body he knew was
purified in a breath and delivered of incert itude and made radiant
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438zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA Criticism zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
and commingled wit h the element of the spirit . An ecstasy of flight
made radiant his eyes and wild his breath and tremulous and wild
and radiant his windswept limbs.
—One! Two! . . . Lookou t !
— O , cripes, I 'm drownded! [P, 169.]
Th e in t er ject in g voices of course are those of bathers, b u t t h eir
iron ic appropriateness t o Stephen's Icarian "soaring sun ward"
is n ot m ean t to escape us: divers have th eir own "ecstasy of
fligh t ," an d Icarus was "d rown d ed ." Th e imagery of Stephen's
ecstasy is fetched from many sources; we recognize Shelley's
skylark, Icarus, t h e glorified body of t h e Resurrect ion (cf. "H is
soul had arisen from the grave of boyh ood , spurn ing her grave-
cloth es") an d a tremulousness from wh ich i t is d ifficu lt t o
dissociate adolescent sexual dreams (wh ich t h e Freudians t e ll
us are frequen t ly dreams of flyin g) . Th e en t ire eight-page
passage is cun n in gly organized wi t h great variety of rhetoric
an d in ciden t ; b u t we cannot h elp n ot icin g t h e lim it s set on
vocabulary an d figures of t h ou gh t . Th e em purpled triteness
of such a cadence as "rad ian t h is eyes and wi ld h is breath
and t remulous an d wild and rad ian t his windswept lim b s" is
enforced by recurrence: "Bu t her lon g fair hair was gir lish :
an d gir lish , an d touched wi t h t h e wonder of m or t al beauty, her
face." "Ecstasy" is the keyword, indeed . Th is r io t of feelings
corresponds t o no vocat ion definable in m ature terms; t h e para-
graphs come t o rest on images of irresponsible m o t io n :
He turned away from her suddenly and set off across the strand.
His cheeks were aflame; his body was aglow; his limbs were t rem-
bling. O n and on and on and on he strode, far out over the sands,
singing wild ly to the sea, crying to greet the advent of the life
that had cried to h im . [P, 172.]
W h a t "l i fe " connotes i t skills n ot t o ask; the word recurs and
recurs. So does the m ot ion on ward an d on ward and on ward :
A wild angel had appeared to h im , the angel of mortal youth and
beauty, an envoy from the fair courts of hfe, to throw open before
h im in an instant of ecstasy the gates of all the ways of error and
glory. O n and on and on and on l [P, 172.]
Hugh Kenner 439
| I t may be well t o recall Joyce's account of t h e rom an t ic
| t em per:
. an insecure, unsatisfied, impat ien t temper which sees no fit
labode here for its ideals and chooses therefore to behold them
| under insensible figures. As a result of this choice i t comes to dis-
card certain lim itat ions. Its figures are blown to wild adventures,
acking the gravity of so lid bodies. . . . [SH.]
| oyce also called Prometheus Unbound "t h e Schwarmerei of a
3ung jew."
An d i t is qu it e p lain from th e final chapter of t h e Portrait
hat we are n ot to accept t h e mode of Stephen's "freedom "
th e "message" of the book. Th e "priest of the eternal
Pagin at io n " turns ou t t o be indigest ibly Byron ic. No t h in g is
acre obvious t h an his t o t a l lack of h u m ou r . Th e dark in -
ensity of the first four chapters is m ovin g enough , b u t our
[ipulse on being con fron ted wi t h the final ed it ion of Stephen
pedalus is t o laugh ; an d laugh at th is m om en t we dare n ot ;
is after all a vict im bein g prepared for a sacrifice. H is shape,
Joyce said, can no longer change. Th e ar t he has elected
• n o t "t h e slow elaborat ive patience of t h e ar t of sat isfact ion ."
an d on an d on an d o n " wi l l be it s inescapable mode. H e
n ot see the gir l wh o symbolizes the fu ll revelat ion ; "she
emed like one wh om magic h ad changed in t o t h e likeness of
strange and beau t ifu l seabird ," and he confusedly appre-
ads a sequence of down y an d feathery in can tat ion s. W h a t ,
t h e last chapter, he does see he sees on ly t o reject , in favour zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcbaZYXWVUTSRQPONMLKJIHGFEDCBA
\ ,:0i an incan tatory "loveliness wh ich has n ot yet come in t o t h e
l^'^yorld."
Th e on ly creative a t t it u d e t o language exemplified in t h e
ok is t h at of Stephen's father:
—Is i t Christy? he said. There's more cun n in g in one of those
; on his bald head than in a pack of jack foxes. [P, 28.]
vit a lit y is established before the book is t h ir t y pages under
Ihiy. Stephen, however, isn 't enchanted at any t im e by t h e
if J>roximity of such t alk. H e isn 't , as a m at t er of fact , even in -
i'lt t est ed in i t . W i t h o u t a backward glance, he exchanges th is
'"'ather for a m yt h .