Stephen's Classical and Scholastic Roots

Stephen Dedalus, the aspiring poet, amateur philosopher, and protagonist of James Joyce's A
Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, while speaking to his dean about philosophy, tells him, For
my purpose I can work on at present by the light of one or two ideas of Aristotle and Aquinas . .
. I need them only for my own use and guidance until I have done something for myself by their
light (164). Here, Joyce is invoking an attitude, common to modernist literature, of blending
traditional and classical perspectives to create new ideas. Although Joyce's work is renowned
for its deviations from narrative convention, he was also learned in ancient and scholastic
thought. Joyce's notebooks have shown scholars that the author was familiar with the writing of
Aquinas and that he studied Aristotle's Poetics. (Eco 332) One cannot break from the past, after
all, without knowing well what it is one's breaking from. The skeletal structure of Portrait is
itself taken from a classical myth, that of Daedalus and Icarus. Stephen's growth as a artistic
inventor is paralleled by the industriousness of his eponym, the legendary artificer Daedalus.
The epitaph that opens the book is a quote from the Daedalus section of Ovid's The
Metamorphoses , which translated means, "He turned his mind toward unknown arts." Like
Daedalus, who used his cunning to create unprecedented devices, such as a set of wax wings
used to escape from the prison of King Minos, Stephen uses his cunning to create art and a new
identity deracinated from his Irish heritage. If the classical model for Stephen's identity is
Daedalus, however, then his philosophical thoughts, as he admits to the dean, come from
Aristotle and Aquinas. Later in the same chapter, Stephen muses with his friend Lynch on pity,
tragedy, and the beautiful: the basic tenets of aesthetic studies. The precocious Stephen occupies
himself outside the classroom by criticizing and formulating an aesthetic theory based on his
classical and medieval readings. Another classmate, Donovan, lets it slip that Stephen is even
writing an essay on the topic, though Stephen seems to deny it ( I hear you are writing some
essay about esthetics. Stephen made a vague gesture of denial" [186]). From the conversation
with Lynch, we can discern that aesthetics is a subject that greatly engrosses Stephen, the
burgeoning artist, and one in which he far surpasses his peer.
From his expatiation in this chapter, it is possible to construct, in general terms, Stephens
beliefs on the nature of art. Such conjecture, however, can be perilous. First, there are only a few
pages of conversation we can use to extrapolate the entire system of thought of an individual.
The conversation on art holds a relatively small claim on the chapter, lasting about seven pages,
let alone on the entire book. Rather than a formal, elaborate discourse, it is a picture of an
ambitious student sharing his philosophic realizations with a sympathetic friend. Second, the
fact that these are spoken words, not a formal, written argument Stephen would intend for
publication, should make us skeptical of how invested he is in what he is saying. If we do
assume that Stephen is telling us what he actually believes, we must still keep in mind that
Stephen himself is a work-in-progress. As Umberto Eco puts it, ". . . Joyce's works might be
understood as a continuous discussion of their own artistic procedures. A Portrait is the story of
a young artist who wants to write A Portrait" (329). Joyce's novel is aKnstlerroman, a novel
about the development of an artist. Stephens immaturity is the whole point. He is an artist

creating an artist. It is also important to note that the Portrait is semi-autobiographical. That
does not mean, however, that we can freely ascribe Stephens aesthetic beliefs to Joyce. As
observed by David Jones, there is much debate among Joycean scholars concerning degree of
influence and by Aristotle and Aquinas in the section (291). This article, therefore, will not try to
interpret the fidelity of Stephen's polemic to ancient and Medieval philosophy; rather, it will
evaluate the relevance of Stephens thoughts to the novel and determine the dramatic function
of Stephens philosophizing.
The Aesthetic Context of Portrait
While Stephen informs us that he draws his aesthetic theory from his own ruminations and
readings in ancient and medieval philosophy, his creative personality is in harmony with the
artistic ethos of Joyce's own time. Stephen defines art as, the human disposition of sensible or
intelligible matter for an esthetic end" (182). The implications of this statement will be fully
examined in the next section, but, for now, the latter part of this definition is especially
significant: the esthetic end. For a pagan such as Aristotle, art mimetically reproduced nature
and divinity. If executed properly, it could praise the gods by accurately and deferentially
telling, and thereby venerating, their stories. It could also, however, slip into blasphemy if the
gods were inappropriately depicted. For a medieval theologian such as Aquinas, art was a
vehicle for celebrating God (perhaps through liturgical music). Art based on the Bible could
teach the illiterate lay Christian parables through stories or poems. As with the ancients, art
served a definite spiritual purpose.
But for the artists of the Fin de Sicle, art existed only for its own existence: lart pour lart; art
for arts sake. While the Aesthetic Movement can be said to have originated in France with the
Symbolist poets in the late 1800s, two of its most luminous proponents, Oscar Wilde and Walter
Pater, were Dubliners, like Joyce. Pater, an influential art critic and essayist, was well regarded
in literary circles for his writings that helped fuel the Aesthetic Movement. In the conclusion of
his most famous work, Studies in the History of the Renaissance(1873), Pater writes of the richness
of a life steeped in artistic appreciation and the usefulness of philosophic thought in the
understanding of art. "The service of philosophy, of speculative culture," he writes, "towards the
human spirit is to rouse, to startle it into sharp and eager observation" (299 Pater). If the full life
is full of aesthetic experience, philosophy is a tool to articulate and understand the beauty one's
experiences. He concludes the chapter saying, "Of this wisdom, the poetic passion, the desire of
beauty, the love of art for art's sake, has most; for art comes to you professing frankly to give
nothing but the highest quality to your moments as they pass, and simply for those moments'
sake" (301). Pater transforms the artistic appreciation into the quasi-religious experience that
gives meaning to the otherwise inane moments of life. Like Pater, Wilde enumerated his own
aesthetic doctrine in the preface to his novel //The Picture of Dorian Gray// (whose title bears
a resemblance to Joyce's novel). Wilde defines the artist as "the creator of beautiful things." Art's
purpose is not to instruct or worship, in contrast to Aristotle and Aquinas, but to be enjoyed for
being beautiful. Didactic or mimetic qualities may contribute to beauty, but they shouldn't be
ends in their own right. He goes on to write, "Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful

things are the cultivated. For these there is hope." This is Pater but with intellectual snobbery.
Those who are capable of appreciating beauty are somehow better off, according to Wilde.
What we read here is quintessentially Stephen. He shares Pater's reverence for the exquisite
moments in life that come from total submersion in the artistic world and Wilde's cultivated
elitism. From Portrait's lengthy title, we read that Stephen is still a puerile artist, but he is
certainly following Pater's instruction in reaching the most exalted state of consciousness
through rigorous contemplation of art.
Beauty and Genre
Stephen makes many points on the purpose of art, but two in particular, his definitions of
beauty and genre, are interesting because they are in conversation with the form
ofPortrait. Stephen defines art as a disposition, that is to say, a natural tendency, recognizing the
human propensity for creation. This impetus for creation is two-fold: first, it is an act of physical
creation akin to childbirth, as the artist puts labor, effort, and love into a subject of her own
creation; second, part of this human disposition is for the viewing of that which is beautiful.
Stephen quotes Aquinas, saying, that is beautiful the apprehension of which pleases (181).
Artistic production is as fundamental as any other human drive. Perhaps the most important
distinction about art that Stephen makes is of its sensible and intelligible aspects. In one
interpretation, sensible could dictate the dual effect art has on the viewer. Art is both sensible,
since we use our five senses to observe it, and intelligible, because we can ponder, criticize,
argue and engage in other cerebral contemplation directed towards art. Shortly after in the
conversation, Stephen says, Though we may not like a statue, we can recognize that theres
something in it to admire. Our senses discern something from it. (181). The conscious mind,
Stephen realizes, may not care for a statue, but senses can still be stirred by it. The sensible and
intelligible may be the routes through which the esthetic end travels into us, first through the
senses and next to the brain. The senses are a mode of apprehension used by our higher
faculties to absorb and understand beauty. It is his acute understanding of art and beauty that
makes Stephen the budding artist. It is because of his ability to absorb the sensible and
intelligible aspects of beauty that, as Wilde says, "there is hope."
Once beauty is defined, Stephen categorizes it into three forms: the lyrical form, the form
wherein the artist presents his image in immediate relation to himself; the epical form, the form
wherein he presents his image in mediate relation to himself and to others; the dramatic form,
the form wherein he presents his image in immediate relation to others (188). These three
forms are really three traditional forms of narrative in literature. The lyrical represents the
subjective, such as a poets mind poured out directly onto paper in a sonnet. The dramatic
represents the objective portrayal of the works action, such as in a play where the audiences
sees rather than is told what is happening. Finally, epical refers to a mix of subjective and object,
in which the narrator describes to a reader what is happening, such as a novel. This passage is
appropriately included in the text because Portrait is a novel that experiments with narrative
form. It is more than epical but less than purely lyrical. The reason for this is Joyce's use of the

Modernist convention of stream-of-consciousness. The novel eschews a traditional first or thirdperson narrator and instead often leads us from one of Stephen's thoughts to the next: "Eleven!
Then he was late for that lecture too. What day of the week was it? He stopped at a newsagent's
to read the headline of a placard. Thursday. Ten to eleven; English: eleven to twelve; French:
twelve to one; physics" (155). An everyday mental conversation ("Eleven!" and "What day of the
week was it?") is inserted into typical third-person narration (such as, "He stopped at a
newsagent's to read the headline of a placard"). Although Stephen discriminates narrative form
into categories, one of Joyce's most famous achievements is writing outside this three-pronged
mold.
The Aesthetic Speech and Stephen's Development
Philosophy aside, the inclusion of Stephens aesthetic theory is indicative of both his artistic
acumen and social alienation. We know from the opening of the book that Stephen stands aloof
from his fellow Irishmen. His last name itself, Dedalus, is obtrusively non-Irish. As Hugh
Kenner puts it: "Why, a name like a huge smudged fingerprint: the most implausible name that
could conceivably be devised for an inhabitant of lower-class Catholic Dublin: a name that no
accident of immigration, no freak of etymology, no canon of naturalism however stretched, can
justify: the name of Stephen Dedalus." (Kenner 351) Stephen is horribly chided by his classmates
in Clongowes Woods and fails to assimilate into his pre-adolescent social environment. Upon
hearing Stephens last name, a school bully virulently inquires, What kind of a name is that?
(6). His name--the word that gives him identity--and his shyness make his first years in
Clongowes a nightmare. Later in chapter five, preceding his conversation with Lynch, there is
an encounter between Stephen and the dean of his school, in which the two dabble in aesthetic
theory. This heady tte-- tte displays how distant Stephen feels from the dean and contrasts
his energized later conversation with this tepid one. The interactions between the Stephen and
the dean are somewhat perfunctory. Each character responds briefly to each other and merely
make a few general comments about aesthetics. It begins with some avuncular questioning on
the definition of beauty, but the dean soon loses interest and Stephen even catches him not
paying attention: The use of the word in the marketplace is quite different. I hope I am not
detaining you. Not in the least, said the dean politely. No, no, said Stephen smiling, I
mean (164-165) The dean, an adult figure who should have the utmost interest in stimulating
Stephens intellect, is seen only as passing the time with him. We know, however, from the
conversation with Lynch, that Stephen is capable of elaborate philosophic discourse. The
conversation would more accurately be called pontification, as Lynch does little more than
humor Stephen by listening to his theories. Lynch even professes that he has no interest in the
subject and is probably only there to take cigarettes from Stephen. What we see is a lone
aesthete, completely devoted mentally and spiritually to his craft but alienated from his peers
and teachers by his own abilities. Earlier, Stephen dolefully muses:

but yet it wounded him to think that he would never be but a shy guest at the feast of
the worlds culture and that the monkish learning, in terms of which he was striving to
forge out an esthetic philosophy, was held no higher by the age he lived in that the
subtle and curious jargons of heraldry and falconry. (157)

Stephen despairs that not only at the interminable store of human knowledge but that his own
contributions to the feast of the worlds culture will be thought esoteric or irrelevant by his
community. The realization that his passion is but a specialized curiosity, such as heraldry and
falconry, to the world is undoubtedly a painful one.
Portrait as a Knstlerroman
Stephen is a character in development. The trajectory of the novel takes him from his early
fascination with sounds as a youth to an adolescent aesthete. His artistic theories are a phase in
his development and thus they should be approached with incredulity, knowing his growth is
not yet complete. Cordell Yee observes that there is a lack of sophistication to Stephen's
aesthetics: Stephens lack of this understanding shows that by the end of A Portrait he is not an
artist in a fundamental way. He is immature: the would-be artist is also a would be theorist.
(68) Joyce, he argues, deliberately misapplies Aquinas's teachings when he places them in
Stephen's mouth. (69) This suggests that this section of chapter five, rather than a coherent
philosophic treatise, is indicative of character building by Joyce. Aesthetic theorizing is a
milestone in Stephen's artistic growth. His conversation and thoughts, reminiscent of
Pater's Renaissance, are inevitable parts of artistic life he is leading so there should be no surprise
in that Stephen, the young aesthete, will grow up into someone who thinks seriously about the
nature of art. Yee further notes the early evidence of Stephens interest in the beautiful: "As a
child, Stephen has a questioning mind: he wonders about the world and shows a philosophic
bent. He does not take things for granted and seems to recognize a distinction between nature
and convention. He often thinks about language, asking why certain words are used, why they
mean what they mean." (77) A young Stephen is hypnotized by the pick, pock, puck (52) of
the balls striking cricket bats in the school yard. His childhood fears manifest themselves in his
consciousness as verse as he hides under a table: Pull out his eyes,/Apologise,/ Apologise,/
Pull out his eyes (6). Indeed, his whole life seems to resonate with artistic and intellectual
preoccupation. Joyce, here, has traced the path of an artist from his rawest form to the more (but
not completely) refined. The novel begins with a story read to infant Stephen by his father and
ends with a diary entry, "Old father, old artificer, stand me now and ever in good stead" (224).
Significantly, the novel ends with the invocation of Daedalus, Stephen's assumed artistic father
and, implicitly, the casting off of Stephen's old parentage and his entrance into his own self
fashioned heritage. The classical world provides both Stephen's new identity and the roots of
his understanding of aesthetics.