James Joyce and His Early Church the Art of Schism and Heresy
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James Joyce and His Early Church The Art of Schism and Heresy Christopher David Laws Doctor of Philosophy University of York English September 2017 Abstract In ‘Telemachus’, the first episode of Ulysses, Stephen Dedalus declares himself ‘servant of two masters […] The imperial British state and the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church’. Amid clanging church bells there follows in the text, as if in answer to Stephen’s invocation, a ‘horde of heresies fleeing with mitres awry: Photius and the brood of mockers of whom Mulligan was one, and Arius, warring his life long upon the consubstantiality of the Son with the Father’. From the outset critics have tussled with the role of religion in James Joyce’s texts, and with the nature of his attitude towards Catholicism. But though recent years have seen, according to Geert Lernout, attempts to ‘recuperate’ Joyce for a ‘liberal form of Catholicism’, scholarship still dwells on Joyce’s upbringing and the social contexts of his youth, framing the question as one of belief rather than practise. Ignoring the evidence of ‘Telemachus’, which implies their centrality for any discussion of Joyce and the church, the heretics themselves have received scant attention. Against recent scholarship, including Roy Gottfried’s Joyce’s Misbelief and Geert Lernout’s Help My Unbelief, this thesis will show how specific heretics from the early church appear and persist throughout Joyce’s literature. Charting a course from Dubliners through Finnegans Wake, I will focus on a chronological reading of Ulysses and the figures of Arius and Photius. Saint Patrick figures at the conflux of east and west, as I argue that Joyce moved from a combative attitude towards Catholicism to one which used its material as connective tissue. In the process I define Joyce’s ‘early church’ as one stretching until the ninth century. This thesis will significantly expand the scope of Joyce’s library, showing through close reading the hitherto unidentified sources from which Joyce drew his understanding of Arius and Photius. 3 Author’s Declaration I declare that this thesis is a presentation of original work and I am the sole author. This work has not previously been presented for an award at this, or any other, University. All sources are acknowledged as References. 4 Table of Contents Abstract 2 Declaration 3 Table of Contents 4 Introduction 6 1. Joyce’s Early Work: From Gnosticism to Catechism 27 - Gnosticism, Simony, Animalism 27 - The Catechetical Structure and its Immediate Sources 33 - Sources Further Afield: Researching Joyce’s Library 39 - The Religious Aspect of Joyce’s Late Revisions to ‘Ithaca’ 43 2. A Cloacal Obsession and Clotted Hinderparts: Ulysses and Arius 47 - The Roots of Rebellion 47 - Arius Across the Text 48 - Sourcing Joyce’s Sense of Arius’s Death I: Critical Failures 52 - Sourcing Joyce’s Sense of Arius’s Death II: The Church Fathers 56 - Socrates Scholasticus and the Remorse of Conscience 62 - The Impact of the Church Fathers Upon Ulysses 67 - The Culmination of ‘Ithaca’ 71 - Wonderworker 74 3. The Assertion and Elision of Character in ‘Cyclops’ 80 - Character from Nothingness: Bloom as Stereotyped Jew 80 - The Politics of Inflation 85 - Narrative Synthesis and Splendid Waste 90 5 4. ‘Cyclops’ and the Rhetoric of the Early Church 97 - ‘Elijah is Coming’ 97 - Between Irish Nationalism and Judaism 99 - ‘I was just going to throw it away’ 101 - Bloom Implicates Bloom 106 - An Epiphany Procession 108 - The Culmination of ‘Cyclops’ I: Biblical References 111 - The Culmination of ‘Cyclops’ II: Saint Patrick’s Confessio 114 - The Confessio on the Island of Saints and Sages 119 5. Photius and the Theme of Mockery 128 - Buck Mulligan and his Brood 128 - The Photian Schism 132 - Sourcing Joyce’s Sense of Photius: Mockery and the Two Souls Doctrine 137 - Gregory Asbestas and on into the Wake 141 Conclusion 145 Bibliography 154 6 Introduction Early in the course of the day of Ulysses, around half-past eight in the morning as Stephen Dedalus drags his ashplant from the Martello tower towards the Forty Foot promontory in Sandycove, he engages dryly as the Englishman Haines probes him on the subject of religious belief. Buck Mulligan, capering his way down to the Forty Foot hole which opens out onto Dublin Bay, has just provided the pair with his blasphemous rendition of the ballad of joking Jesus. Haines twice asks whether Stephen is a believer, qualifying his question with references to the ‘narrow sense of the word’, ‘miracles’, and a ‘personal God’. But after averring ‘There’s only one sense of the word, it seems to me’, Stephen firmly pronounces, ‘You behold in me, Stephen said with grim displeasure, a horrible example of free thought’ (U, 1.608-626). A freethinker, but struggling against the confines of the world, and the immediate social and political contexts of Ireland at the turn of the twentieth century. When Haines seizes upon Stephen’s use of ‘free thought’ and ponders ‘After all, I should think you are able to free yourself. You are your own master, it seems to me’, Stephen brusquely rejoinders: – I am a servant of two masters, Stephen said, an English and an Italian. – Italian? Haines said. A crazy queen, old and jealous. Kneel down before me. – And a third, Stephen said, there is who wants me for odd jobs. – Italian? Haines said again. What do you mean? – The imperial British state, Stephen answered, his colour rising, and the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church. (U, 1.636-644)1 More than one of the boldest declarative statements in James Joyce’s novel, this amounts to a statement of intent for Stephen, who – from his place of isolation at the Martello tower in the opening pages of ‘Telemachus’, to the chiming of St. George’s bells as he makes his departure down Eccles Street in ‘Ithaca’ – struggles incessantly to free himself from the dual masters of state and church. As such, Joyce places ‘the imperial British state’ and ‘the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church’ at the very forefront of Ulysses.2 1 Towards the end of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Stephen Dedalus tells his friend Cranly, ‘I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it call itself my home, my fatherland, or my church’. As Ireland under British rule relates to his ‘fatherland’, it seems safe to assume that the master who wants Stephen for ‘odd jobs’ in Ulysses refers to his ‘home’, or more precisely his family (The Essential James Joyce, 361). 2 In James Joyce and the Act of Reception: Reading, Ireland, Modernism, John Nash describes how through Stephen, Joyce expounds a Catholic and Irish intellectual tradition whose sites and subjects imply a particular audience. At 7 The relationship between Joyce and religion, and the precise nature of his attitude towards the Catholic church, has been a theme of Joyce criticism from the earliest reception of his works. The protracted publication history of Dubliners, which was passed between publishers for nine years as they variously objected to its supposed immorality and anti-Irish sentiment (Ellmann, 328), was followed by an obscenity trial over Ulysses before the novel was even complete, but accusations of indecency and immorality against Joyce not only carried irreligious, anti-Catholic connotations, instead often giving way to the reading of his texts as anti-Catholic tracts or treatises.3 In an early review of Ulysses published in the Catholic Dublin Review, Shane Leslie – writing as ‘Domini Canis’, a self-styled Dominican ‘Dog of the Lord’ - opined that ‘since the entire setting of this book is Catholic Dublin, and since the seven hundred pages contain a fearful travesty of persons, happenings, and intimate life of the most morbid and sickening description, we say not only for the Dublin Review but for Dublin écrasez l’infâme!’ (in Lernout, 215). The Joyce scholar Geert Lernout, writing in his book Help My Unbelief: James Joyce and Religion, has described this as a ‘fundamentally religious reaction’ in which Leslie ‘makes it clear that he sees the book as an anti-catholic attack by turning Voltaire’s famous anticlerical phrase against the author of Ulysses’ (Lernout, 215). Leslie went on in his review to demand the censure of Ulysses, writing that ‘the Inquisition can only require its destruction or, at least, its removal from Catholic houses […] no Catholic publicist can even afford to be possessed of a copy of this book, for in its reading lies not only the description but the commission of sin against the Holy Ghost’ (in Lernout, 216).4 Even where the religious evaluations were less condemnatory and less explicit, in their appraisal Joyce’s works could scarcely escape a religious context. In a review of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man published in February 1917 in the Nation, H. G. Wells praised ‘this most memorable novel’ for ‘its quintessential and unfailing reality’ (Ellmann, 414), and stated that Joyce had preserved for the ‘amazement of posterity’ in the figure of Stephen Dedalus the type and the product of a Catholic education (Pound/Joyce, 148). This was something of a backhanded compliment however, for Wells also made it clear that he saw in Stephen a reminder of the ‘limitations of a great mass of Irishmen’ (Ellmann, 414). There was therefore something decidedly the same time however, through Stephen’s private confessions and his identification to Haines as ‘servant’ and freethinker, Joyce abnegates any responsibility towards the same audience he summons (Nash, 64). 3 Objecting particularly to the ‘Nausicaa’ episode as published in The Little Review, in which Leopold Bloom masturbates in rhythm with the Sandymount fireworks, the New York Society for the Prevention of Vice lodged an official complaint which led to a trial beginning 14 February 1921 (Ellmann, 502-503).