Classics and the Western Canon discussion

In Book 3 of the Odyssey, Mentor says to Telemachus that they must visit Nestor, breaker of horses, for news of Odysseus. Nestor greets them warmly, offers them hospitality and a lengthy history of the Trojan war, but little news of Odysseus.

In Ulysses it is around 9 or 10 am and Stephen Dedalus is on the job, teaching history to a group of schoolboys. The subject is Pyrrhus. When Stephen prompts one of the students for information about Pyrrhus, the boy responds, “--Pyrrhus, sir? A pier.” Which leads Stephen to quip that a pier is a disappointed bridge. (Perhaps a reminder of Stephen’s failure to escape Dublin.) Stephen thinks of Haines’s collection of Irish sayings, but then his thoughts turn to other disappointments of history.

The boys call for a ghost story, so Stephen gives them Milton’s Lycidas. While the boy is reading, Stephen’s thoughts move from the Paris library in which he read about Aristotle’s “actuality of the possible as possible” to “Him that walked the waves” to giving what is Caesar’s unto Caesar. An interesting train of thought.

It is a short day and the brief lesson breaks up quickly for a game of hockey, but before the boys disperse Stephen asks them an obscure riddle. What is the point of this riddle?

One of the boys stays behind for some math tutoring. Steven reminisces about his school days and identifies with him. Though ugly and futile, “ someone had loved him, borne him in her arms and in her heart.” Mother, “a poor soul gone to heaven.”

Stephen visits Mr. Deasy, the school headmaster, who will eventually pay him after delivering a long speech on Irish history (some of which he gets wrong) and the value of English thriftiness. Deasy is a West Briton, a Unionist, who in addition to history and money has an interest in the cattle trade. He gives Stephen the task of having his letter on hoof-and-mouth disease published since Stephen has connections in the local press.

But before Stephen leaves, Deasy reveals himself as a bigot, opining that England is in the hands of the Jews and that, among other things, they “sinned against the light.” To which Stephen responds, “Who has not?”

In the course of this discussion, Deasy says that “All history moves toward one great goal, the manifestation of God.” Stephen first says that history is a nightmare from which he is trying to awake, and when a shout comes from the boys on the field he points to the window and says, “That is God... a shout in the street.” What does Stephen mean by this?

Links

Lycidas
http://www.dartmouth.edu/~milton/read...

The Rocky Road to Dublin
https://www.acousticmusicarchive.com/...

Patrice wrote: "I had an experience recently that came to mind regarding "That is God". I visited the Rothko Museum in Houston. I had heard so much about it, how spiritual it was, how people choose to have their..."

I love this Patrice.

Patrice wrote: "When I opened the door to leave the church I was greeted by a beautiful April day. The fountains were bubbling, the children were laughing and playing, the birds were chirping. It was such an amazing contrast to what was inside that "church" that I was overwhelmed. It felt like Eden. And I thought "This is where you find God, not inside a church, in life." I was left wondering if that was Rothko's intent.

Maybe that is what Joyce is saying?"

Wow, that is an amazing image, Patrice. Your story is a perfect fit for what I thought Joyce was trying to say, but I could not write it better than you did there.

Patrice wrote: "I had an experience recently that came to mind regarding "That is God". I visited the Rothko Museum in Houston. I had heard so much about it, how spiritual it was, how people choose to have their..."

I've been puzzling over Stephen's statement for a long time, and your response is spot on. I don't know if it's right, but it sure feels right.

Thomas wrote: "One of the boys stays behind for some math tutoring. Steven reminisces about his school days and identifies with him. Though ugly and futile, “someone had loved him, borne him in her arms and in her heart.”"

I have to say, as a mother of two myself, I choked up a bit reading this part. And to go on:

But for her the race of the world would have trampled him under foot, a squashed boneless snail. She had loved his weak watery blood drained from her own. Was that then real? The only true thing in life? His mother's prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode. She was no more: the trembling skeleton of a twig burnt in the fire...

To think that the only true thing in life his a mother's love, and now to have his mother's death along with his guilt of not fulfilling her last wish, no wonder Stephen is wracked with guilt. Who is to save Stephen from the race of the world now?

Patrice wrote: "I had an experience recently that came to mind regarding "That is God". I visited the Rothko Museum in Houston. I had heard so much about it, how spiritual it was, how people choose to have their..."

I really like your analogy between Rothko and Joyce. Especially since I use a picture of a Rothko painting in my class this week and all my students made comments about life and death when viewing it.

Thomas wrote: "Stephen first says that history is a nightmare from which he is trying to awake..."

I find this quote very interesting because other authors and stories (such as 1984, Brave New World, The Stepford Wives, The Matrix, The Prisoner etc.) all seem to convey the idea that our perception of society, and by extension history, is malleable. So if Stephen finds history a nightmare then why hasn't he attempted to changed his perception of it?

Also, following the adage that history is written by the victors, this seems to make Stephen the victim of the race of the world (as Linda @6 pointed out). Who then is "the race of the world" in Ulysses? Buck and Haines? Or are they also victims of the world but they don't see it?

Note: I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this. Or where Joyce was going with this. I just know that this particular quote really fascinates and haunts me.

I’m sorry to break this rather serious discussion with my favourite part in the episode: Mr Deasy asking if Stephen owes anything and Stephen going through a long list of borrowings in his mind, then briefly replying “for the moment, no” = always a good laugh!

Tommi wrote: "I’m sorry to break this rather serious discussion with my favourite part in the episode: Mr Deasy asking if Stephen owes anything and Stephen going through a long list of borrowings in his mind, th..."

Yeah, I had a good laugh at that part too! :)

Tiffany wrote: "Also, following the adage that history is written by the victors, this seems to make Stephen the victim of the race of the world (as Linda @6 pointed out). Who then is "the race of the world" in Ulysses? Buck and Haines? Or are they also victims of the world but they don't see it?"

Good questions, Tiffany. The history quote also stuck out when I read it. You asked why can't Stephen just change his perception of history? I wonder if it is because he is the type of person who seeks the absolute truth in things? He seems to be a person who anguishes over all matters and doesn't gloss over them (as evidenced by his difficult decision not to pray for his mother, and then to have so much guilt afterwards), and to just simply change his perception to satisfy his well-being doesn't seem like a plausible solution for him. History is full of terrible acts and just to say "well, things happen for a greater good, so it's OK" (or whatever victors say to spin history in a good light) doesn't make them any less terrible.

Patrice wrote: "...http://houstonmuseumdistrict.org/muse......"

"...The Chapel has two vocations: contemplation and action. Action takes the form of supporting human rights, particularly in its 50 plus public programs per year, and thus the Chapel has become a rallying place for all people concerned with peace, freedom, and social justice throughout the world."

Fascinating! Let's see, Ulysses was "first serialised in parts in the American journal The Little Review from March 1918 to December 1920, and then published in its entirety by Sylvia Beach in February 1922..." (Wiki)

That places it well before WWII. ( The Magic Mountain was published in 1924.) One of the discussions on Stoner the other night was the genesis of the word "Holocaust" and its earlier uses in history. I don't know if I had ever known its meaning as "a burnt sacrifice: a sacrificial offering wholly consumed by fire."

Linda wrote: " I wonder if it is because he is the type of person who seeks the absolute truth in things? He seems to be a person who anguishes over all matters and doesn't gloss over them...."

It isn't easy to see, but this is one of the things Stephen is thinking about in the next episode. He questions whether reality is inside the mind or outside. Is there one true reality outside and independent of the mind, or is it all a shifting mess that changes with our perception?

Just after I read the part about Deasy's concern about hoof and mouth disease possibly bringing an end to exports of Irish beef, I heard on BBC that the U.S. has just lifted a sixteen-year ban on imports of Irish beef. So Mr. Desy's concern was realistic.

Jan. 5 NYT article: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/06/bus...

"His mother’s prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode".

St. Columbanus ignored his mother, throwing herself at his feet begging him not to become a monk. He stepped over (on?) her to do exactly that. Did he feel any remorse? (I forgot to ask him when I stood at his grave last year).

"... the infinite possibilities ... can those have been possible seeing that they never were? Or was that only possible which came to pass? Weave, weaver of the wind.

What can history mean if life brings - at best - just pyrrhic victories? Stephen is young, but certainly no idealist. And I do not believe we can change our view of history, or life, at will.

Patrice wrote: "I had an experience recently that came to mind regarding "That is God". I visited the Rothko Museum in Houston. I had heard so much about it, how spiritual it was, how people choose to have their..."

I love that.

Tommi wrote: "I’m sorry to break this rather serious discussion with my favourite part in the episode: Mr Deasy asking if Stephen owes anything and Stephen going through a long list of borrowings in his mind, th..."

One of my favorites: "The boy's blank face asked the blank window."

Mmm Willing to entertain ideas on the fringes...since Joyce is.

regarding the "and when a shout comes from the boys on the field he points to the window and says, “That is God... a shout in the street.” What does Stephen mean by this?"

Maybe SD is for Irish independence. Just a few paragraphs prior to "That is God...a shout in the street, " SD had thought on or Mr. Deasy had said a couple of lines from Blake:

"The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding sheet."

Then SD and Mr. Deasy talk of merchants... buying and selling... a harlot sells...a shopkeeper sells.."England is a nation of shopkeepers."

"That is God. A shout in the street.
Perhaps SD is thinking still of "the harlot's cry." England, the harlot, focused on buying and selling ...

Maybe SD is thinking the harlot England's God is the profit of shopkeepers. England in a "winding sheet" would be independence for Ireland. Which would be God answering the prayers of the Irish.

"Stephen raised the sheets in his hands."

Perilously close to sheer nonsense.
Yet...Joyce seems to be writing stream of consciousness...so...I think that's how I'm going to read him.

Has anyone said anything about the riddle? My brain was riffing on that tonight but it hasn't completely gelled for me yet.

I thought it meant that SD was thinking about souls...AND that he thought it all was stupid nonsense. I thought maybe that meant that SD was thinking "It's all nonsense. There is no meaning to life."

Then I read in "Allusions " that there really WAS such a riddle...and SD had given--ALMOST--the real answer to the riddle ("a nonsense solution.")

But note, says "Allusions," the original riddle answer is actually "the fox burying his mother under a holly tree"...."it is significant...that he substitutes grandmother for mother"...

Make of that what you will.

Adelle wrote: "regarding the "and when a shout comes from the boys on the field he points to the window and says, “That is God... a shout in the street.” What does Stephen mean by this?""

One thought is that Stephen is punning on Deasy's statement that "all history is moving toward one great goal." Apparently one of the boys has just scored.

Paula wrote: "Has anyone said anything about the riddle? My brain was riffing on that tonight but it hasn't completely gelled for me yet."

I had the same question. Was surprised that nobody had asked about it earlier (but the discussion of Patrice's experience of the Rothko chapel was commanding a lot of very much deserved comments).

But the riddle?

Thomas wrote: "?""

One thought is that Stephen is punning on Deasy's statement that "all history is moving toward one great goal." Apparently one of the boys has just scored. ."

Saw that too. I liked it.

Patrice wrote: "Tiffany wrote: "Patrice wrote: "I had an experience recently that came to mind regarding "That is God". I visited the Rothko Museum in Houston. I had heard so much about it, how spiritual it was,..."

Thanks for the link! I'll have to see what my students think about the chapel.

He came forward a pace and stood by the table. His underjaw fell sideways open uncertainly. Is this old wisdom? He waits to hear from me.
-- History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.
From the playfield the boys raised a shout. A whirring whistle: goal. What if that nightmare gave you a back kick?
-- The ways of the Creator are not our ways, Mr Deasy said. All history moves towards one great goal, the manifestation of God.
Stephen jerked his thumb towards the window, saying:
-- That is God.
Hooray! Ay! Whrrwhee!
-- What? Mr Deasy asked.
-- A shout in the street, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders.

Here is my take:

It starts with Stephen’s attempt at wisdom. A one-liner on history as a meaningless and painful process. He is not ironic yet, though his remark is a bit banal. But that’s the way of wisdom, isn’t it?

Then, outside, a goal is scored and Stephen realizes that history might become something more real, which seems the beginning of a more interesting thought.

Deasy however interrupts with the Christian view (shared by the like of Hegel and Marx) on the purpose of history. Another tired cliche. To which Stephen answers that we might as well hear God at work on the hockey field (as so many historians do).

When the slow witted Deasy doesn’t get the irony, Stephen expands on it with a reference to Proverbs: "Wisdom crieth without: she uttereth her voice in the streets: … How long, ye simple ones, will ye love simplicity?".

The funny thing is, that the sentences Joyce offers as banalities seem to figure among his most often repeated gems.

Linda wrote: “History is full of terrible acts and just to say "well, things happen for a greater good, so it's OK" (or whatever victors say to spin history in a good light) doesn't make them any less terrible.”

I agree that they are still terrible but perhaps having good spin makes it more livable. And perhaps that’s the question. Should we know the bloody terrible truth of history even if it gives us nightmares or should we clean it up and/or avoid it? I'm thinking of how the Japanese did horrible things during WWII but that part of history has receive noticeably less attention than the Germans and the holocaust. So do we avoid talking about what the Japanese did because then we'd have to talk about the A-bomb and we wish to avoid that? Personally, I think we should know it all but perhaps Stephen and more so Mr. Deasy wish to avoid the bad aspects of history.

Paula wrote: "Has anyone said anything about the riddle? My brain was riffing on that tonight but it hasn't completely gelled for me yet."

The riddle itself almost sounds like it's a prayer from Stephen. Like he's wishing for death.

The answer made me think of Stephen at his mother's death bed.

I also noticed that it rhymed. Do riddles normally rhyme?

For reference:

The cock crew
The sky was blue:
The bells in heaven
Were striking eleven.
‘Tis time for this poor soul
To go to heaven.

Answer: The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush.

(Ulysses, loc 463-474, Classic Illustrated Edition for Kindle)

Like others I was really impressed by Patrice's description of her visit to the Rothko exhibit. One thing it makes me wonder is to consider that it was the exposure to the darkness that made the vitality of the outside world so vibrant to her. Without the darkness would we see the light?

If we need to come through darkness (and there is plenty of it in Stephen's mind) to see the light, what happens to those who get stuck in the dark places? Was Rothko stuck there? Or was he a creative genius who knew how to be the catalyst for the Patrice to experience enlightenment?

I am not really sure how my comments relate to the chapter. Perhaps more so to chapter 3. But, so far at least, there is little light for me in the book. My understanding is that this may change when we meet Mr. Bloom. If that is the case, perhaps part of the purpose of these early chapters is similar to the function of the exhibit in Patrice's experience.

Patrice wrote: "Is it possible that SD is trying to escape his own personal history (his mother's death)? ..."

He strikes me as someone who rather would wallow in his despair. His attitude towards his mother just proves that his decisions (and therefore he himself), are to be taken seriously. And what can an artist do without a past? His desire to escape from the past is just a figure of speech.

This may be beside the point, but re: the riddle. I don't get how one can come up with that specific answer to the riddle. How does one get a fox and mother and hollybush from that? I thought riddles were things that one could actually solve if thought about long enough?

Thomas wrote: "In Book 3 of the Odyssey, Mentor says to Telemachus that they must visit Nestor, breaker of horses, for news of Odysseus. Nestor greets them warmly, offers them hospitality and a lengthy history of..."
In this section while Stephen is tutoring Sargent Stephen's mind wonders back to his mother and how she, like Sargent's mother, must have "saved him from being trampled underfoot". Stephen is identifying with others, the "ugly and futile" and also the compassion of his mother toward him as a child. To me this begins the journey that kneeling at the funeral could not.

Patrice wrote: "Wendel wrote: "He came forward a pace and stood by the table. His underjaw fell sideways open uncertainly. Is this old wisdom? He waits to hear from me.
-- History, Stephen said, is a nightmare fro..."

Maybe history is the conjunction of time and space from which the awakening is spiritual.

Patrice wrote @36: "But at the end of Portrait he did try to escape by leaving Ireland .."

It's good you mention the theme of exile Patrice, it is never far away with Joyce. But I believe that in Portrait Stephen wanted to leave Ireland to find the space to develop as an artist, not to forget the past. And the one coming home must be Odysseus, not Telemachus. But maybe we are moving a bit too far from the present chapter.

Anyway, I am enjoying the book much more than I thought I would. So I will stay a bit longer - though I'll skip episode 3 for now and go right on to meet the famous Bloom in episode 4.

Wendel wrote: "History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake. "

But in some ways, the bit of history we have already been given in episode 1 is indeed something of a nightmare. His mother dying and his refusal to accede to her final wish. Ireland still being under the thumb of the English. Haines in the house, obviously not wanted by Stephen. His inability to write, even though that is what he longs to do. Perhaps it is his own history that, at least in part, he is referring to as a nightmare.

Everyman wrote: "But in some ways, the bit of history we have already been given in episode 1 is indeed something of a nightmare. His mother dying and his refusal to accede to her final wish. Ireland still being under the thumb of the English. Haines in the house, obviously not wanted by Stephen. His inability to write, even though that is what he longs to do. Perhaps it is his own history that, at least in part, he is referring to as a nightmare."

I like this interpretation.

I'm having sufficient trouble following the narrative that I can't base this question on any specific text. And there may well be text that shows it to be a ridiculous question.

Qualifiers aside...

Are we certain that SD, in fact, refused his dying mother's request? We know that Buck teases him about it. But Buck would have heard it from Stephen. Is it not possible that this is something he has imagined rather than reliable fact? His overall psychology might suggest this possibility.

Zeke wrote: "Are we certain that SD, in fact, refused his dying mother's request? "

I am certain of nothing in this book. That said, that's one of the things about which I am least uncertain.

"Silently, in a dream she had come to him after her death, her wasted body within its loose brown graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her breath, that had bent upon him, mute, reproachful,..." Why else would he imagine her reproachful right after Mulligan had chided him for that?

Patrice wrote: "I think Susan might be right, SD might be on the journey his mother wished for him, to find a heart."

And as Telemachus was, to find a father. (view spoiler)[He does: Leopold Bloom (hide spoiler)]

Linda wrote: "This may be beside the point, but re: the riddle. I don't get how one can come up with that specific answer to the riddle. How does one get a fox and mother and hollybush from that? I thought ri..."

The riddle is very puzzling, but I find Stephen's whole "history" lesson to be puzzling. Even the students ask, "and the history, sir?" There is a little history, about Pyrrhus, but mostly it seems to be Stephen's personal history in veiled form.

The ghost story the boys ask for becomes Milton's Lycidas, in which the ghost is Milton's friend drowned in the Irish sea:

So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,
Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves;

(This might relate back in Stephen's mind to the previous episode where there is news of a man drowned at sea, and forward to the next episode where Stephen imagines the body washed ashore.)

Lycidas, like the fox's grandmother, is gone to heaven. But what about Stephen's mother? Is the fox's "grandmother" instead of "mother" Stephen's attempt to avoid something consciously that he can't escape subconsciously? Was his refusal to pray at his mother's deathbed a Pyrrhic victory?

@37Linda wrote: "This may be beside the point, but re: the riddle. I don't get how one can come up with that specific answer to the riddle. How does one get a fox and mother and hollybush from that? I thought ri..."

I had similar thoughts about the riddle!

@49Thomas wrote: "Lycidas, like the fox's grandmother, is gone to heaven. But what about Stephen's mother? Is the fox's "grandmother" instead of "mother" Stephen's attempt to avoid something consciously that he can't escape subconsciously? Was his refusal to pray at his mother's deathbed a Pyrrhic victory? ..."

I like the interpretation, but I'm not really seeing where the fox comes into play in this riddle. Why a fox? why not some other animal?

Like Daedalus', Stephen's escape is dependent upon his art and creativity. Daedalus' freedom depends on flying at a carefully balanced distance between the too hot sun and the sea. It's not really clear what results in the landing in "freedom", but I think it's the journey that's important. Daedalus himself was nearly lost forever in the labyrinth of his own creation so extricating himself from the labyrinth and then launching the flight from the island are heroic feats which I think Stephen metaphorically replicates.

For me Stephen's non-kneeling is less a refusal to do his mother's bidding--neither an omission nor a commission, but the beginning of finding personal alternatives to religious or cultural expectations. His reflection on his mother's compassion during the tutoring session shows he meant no disrespect. This reminds me of the trial in The Stranger when the defendant is accused of not properly mourning at his mother's funeral.

Thomas wrote: "The riddle is very puzzling, but I find Stephen's whole "history" lesson to be puzzling. Even the students ask, "and the history, sir?" There is a little history, about Pyrrhus, but mostly it seems to be Stephen's personal history in veiled form."

Thanks Thomas! I think this is one part which will remain puzzling to me. Even the reference to Lycidas is unknown to me.

Susan wrote: "Like Daedalus', Stephen's escape is dependent upon his art and creativity. Daedalus' freedom depends on flying at a carefully balanced distance between the too hot sun and the sea. It's not reall..."
As I am struggling through this, I loved this post Susan! Makes me view this "journey" more broadly. I am so analytic in my thinking that trying to see parallels in the stories & references at times or analogies is difficult. This was lovely & insightful.

Great analogy Patrice.

"Had Pyrrhus not fallen by a beldam's hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been knifed to death. They are not to be thought away. Time has branded them and fettered they are lodged in the room of the infinite possibilities they have ousted. But can those have been possible seeing that they never were? Or was that only possible which came to pass? Weave, weaver of the wind."

I thought that this was a very powerful paragraph. I interpreted it to mean that we are somewhat bound by fate and God-the weaver of the wind. We are stuck in an inpenetrable weave/cloth. I find it interesting that this is Stephen's attitude-if I'm reading this passage right. He seems to make so much of his artistic powers and his ability to do the "right" thing under difficult circumstances. (I'm taking that from reading Portrait as well.) So, I would have thought he might have believed in free will/ability to change our own fate.

Hollyinnnv wrote: "I thought that this was a very powerful paragraph. I interpreted it to mean that we are somewhat bound by fate and God-the weaver of the wind. We are stuck in an inpenetrable weave/cloth. I find it interesting that this is Stephen's attitude-if I'm reading this passage right."

Nice comment. It's a very interesting paragraph you quoted. In addition to your thought, I think perhaps it also embodies the question whether there could have been any other futures -- whether any of these people had the possibility of doing other than they did. In which case, it raises the question for ourselves, do we have to the power to do other than we do? Or are we fated to act a certain way, and there is no free will that can change what we are fated to do?

Bit off-topic. I had googled Parnell.

Joyce wrote: "In his final desperate appeal to his countrymen, he begged them not to throw him as a sop to the English wolves howling around them. It redounds to their honor that they did not fail this appeal. They did not throw him to the English wolves. They tore him to pieces themselves. "

Patrice wrote: "I was listening to Heffernan and he said something about how Joyce wanted to escape history to make myth, or something like that. I may have gotten it wrong, I'm not sure of much when it comes to ..."

I'm still stuck on the idea that history is bound by time and space and that the the escape is spiritual, some kind of transcendent consciousness, universal in that it's beyond the self/other, maybe mythic is the word, but I haven't grasped how the individual shares the mythic--through art, maybe????

Hollyinnnv wrote: ""Had Pyrrhus not fallen by a beldam's hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been knifed to death. They are not to be thought away. Time has branded them and fettered they are lodged in the room of the..."

I go back to the myth of sisyphus to think about will/fate. There's no escaping having to push the rock, but the "victory" of the absurd man is in his ability to embrace the rock, enjoy the process, find humor in the situation, rather than obsess about the futility of the task. It's his rock. He has a special relationship with the burden.