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Introibo: 27 March 1993
Eliot’s Objective Correlative in Telemachia
A good writer, T S Eliot might argue, does not write, “There was a guiltridden young man standing
near the water”; instead he writes, “He laid the dry snot picked from his nostril on a [seaside] ledge of
rock, carefully” (Joyce, 3.42.500). Eliot would further argue that behind that nosescratch, beneath that
sea, there exist “a set of objects, a situation, a chain of events which shall be the formula of that particular
emotion; such that when the external facts, which must terminate in sensory experience are given, the
emotion is immediately evoked.” Eliot names that set of objects, etc., the objective correlative and asserts
that the use of this device is “the only way of expressing emotion in the form of art” (Eliot, 124). He
insufficient ability to embody her son’s guilt (Eliot, 125). Eliot is apparently overjoyed1 three years later
when Joyce manipulates this device to correlate Stephen Dedalus’ emotions with the surrounding
Dublin bay.
“The snotgreen sea[, t]he scrotumtightening sea” (J, 1.4.78) is for Stephen the inescapable
symbol of his many failed or strained relationships; it is literally and metaphorically capable of
absorbing him and his expansive emotions. Most importantly, the sea calls to his mind his mother and
her bilious vomit, and Buck Mulligan’s powerplays at Martello Tower. The former relationship is over
and irreconcilable, but still the primary source of Stephen’s selfpity, illwill, and insecurity. These
factors deeply affect his involvement with Mulligan, an individual who seems more than willing to
exploit Stephen’s weaknesses to “ask for it...all” (J, 1.17.632). These two relationships, probably the two
most significant in his life, so complicate his psychological schema that Jung likens Ulysses to the
rambling monologue of a schizophrenic (Eco, 34). Eliot’s coining of the “objective correlative” and
Joyce’s subsequent use of it offer further commentary not just on the pathological content of Stephen’s
character, but also on the “Telemachia” relative to the backdrop of Hamlet . By the section’s end, Joyce
establishes nearly all the components of Eliot’s correlative formula, but he leaves somewhat open the
1
“I hold this book to be the most important expression which the present age has found....I will leave it at that.”
Eliot, “Ulysses Order, and Myth.” Selected Prose (New York: HBJ, 1975), 175.
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question of exactly what “expressible” emotion Stephen feels. Joyce’s handling of Stephen at first glance
seems to fit Eliot’s recommendations perfectly, but occasionally Joyce departs from Eliot, almost refutes
him, and relates Stephen’s feelings through Stephen’s own thoughts and actions.
Ulysses begins with the introduction of a set of objects important, although not essential, to the
understanding of the Telemachia as a objective correlative formula. No less important is the character
Joyce chooses to carry those objects: “Stately, plump Buck Mulligan...bear[s] a bowl of lather on which a
mirror and a razor lay crossed” (J, 1.3.12). With the first sentence, Joyce inaugurates at least six themes
of his novel, four of which relate to Stephen’s correlative. The three objects — i.e., the bowl, the razor,
and the mirror — maintain prominent but separate positions in Stephen’s life and mind, and their
bearer, Buck, is Stephen’s incorrigible foil even when absent, a capacity that serves in itself as “a
situation” with which Stephen eventually must cope.
Joyce’s thematic use of mirrors is at times more obviously symbolic than at others. On one basic
level, he uses a mirror to convey Buck’s vanity and Stephen’s insecurity. A laughing and stately
Mulligan handles it as an extension of his body and his persona, gracefully “sweeping the mirror a half
circle in the air to flash the tidings abroad....His curling shaven lips laughed and the edges of his white
Buck’s request, Stephen peers at himself and observes only a pitiful “dogsbody to rid of vermin” (J,
1.6.13037).
But on a more developed level, and a more decidedly Eliotic one, Joyce uses the mirror to
absorb, not merely reflect, at least one of Stephen’s emotions: his selfpity. Unlike Hamlet’s mother, the
mirror is a vessel with an infinite capacity. Whatever Stephen places before it, it holds for as long as he
looks at the mirror. Stephen’s belief that the mirror reveals him “as [Buck] and others see [him]” and
Buck’s subsequent pejorative remarks, point to a knowledge of Stephen’s problem with selfesteem.
Stephen might feel, then, that however much he dislikes it, the mirror captures and displays his internal
weakness. In other words, a concrete and specific physical trait as shown in the mirror represents
certain intangible aspects of Stephen’s character. The lookingglass is a smallscale objective correlative
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of Stephen’s severe lack of confidence, and, because he is helpless to prevent that circumstance 2, Stephen
may further understand the correlative as an element of “the ineluctable modality of the visible” (J,
3.31.1).
Buck’s razor appears in many different forms throughout the Telemachia, but most often it
represents some means by which Buck subjugates or mocks Stephen, much the same way he uses the
mirror. Buck begins with the mirror and the razor crossed, and utters his first words in mockery of
Stephen’s religion: “In troibo ad altare Dei” (1.3.5) he intones, and walks to the parapet, his altar, where he
sets his mirror. The act of shaving separates Buck from Stephen further. The “dogsbody” of Stephen
implies a hairy beastliness that Buck hopes to remove from himself. Neither Buck nor Stephen seems
able to escape the image of Stephen as animal. “Dogsbody” is his own word, and he recalls “her shapely
fingernails reddened by the blood of squashed lice” from his childhood shirts (J, 2.9.268). Buck, for his
own part, makes the insensitive and unforgettable comment to his own mother that, “It’s only Dedalus
whose mother is beastly dead” (1.7.198).
When the blade is in hand, however, he tempers his wit to stay in control of himself. This
conscious move to control establishes some connection in Buck’s mind between his razor and Stephen.
As he prepares his face for the razor’s glide, Buck takes gentle verbal jabs at Stephen but “ceasing, he
beg[ins] to shave with care,” and “shave[s] warily over his chin” when reminiscing on having dubbed
Stephen “Kinch.” A moment later, when Stephen declares he will leave if Haines stays, Buck frowns “at
the lather on his razorblade,” not at Stephen (J, 1.4.3765). In a series of worsening denigrations, he
commandeers Stephen’s handkerchief, wipes his razor on it (as Stephen would wipe his own nose), and
announces “a new art colour for our Irish poets [such as Stephen]: snotgreen” (1.4.78) As a result of
these continual insults and various other affronts, it is understandable that Stephen feels betrayed, and it
is understandable when later he recollects the image of Caesar’s stabbing (2.21.49).
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Except when there is no light, in which case Stephen can “get on nicely in the dark” (J, 3.31.15). But this is
Joyce first manipulating Eliot’s concrete, static notion of objective correlative through the use of a concrete, yet
dynamic and infinitely absorbent, device such as a mirror, and secondly continuing his theme of Buck’s gold-
mouthed brightness and Stephen’s (like mythic Dedalus’) fear of sun/light. Also, darkness would create the
“ineluctable modality of the invisible” and neither Joyce nor Dedalus mentions any such thing.
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Buck’s introduction of the adjective “snotgreen” is crucial to connect the series of objects that
form the objective correlative. Mulligan’s first connects the tincture of Stephen’s mucus to the sea
around them and all of Ireland, “the ring of bay and skyline [that] held a dull green mass of liquid.” The
language is evocative first of Buck’s shaving bowl, and secondly, but more significantly, of Stephen’s
mother’s bedpan, “a bowl of white china...holding the green sluggish bile which she had torn up from
her rotting liver” (1.5.1068). The welldeveloped thought association at operating here presents much
more than an example of Joyce’s streamofconsciousness facility; it describes Stephen’s view of himself,
“thought through [his] eyes” {3.31.1) and “thought of thought” (2.24.74), and it reveals how subsumed in
his relationship with his mother. Buck’s offhand comment that, “You can almost taste [the snotgreen]”
is less than appealing when he refers to Swinburne’s “great sweet mother,” but it is entirely distasteful
when that sweet mother becomes Stephen’s own, and the taste is that of her vomit. What makes the
connection so powerful and disturbing, however, is that it comes directly from Stephen’s thoughts.
It is as though the sea around Stephen is composed of all his failures and fears. His bitterness
regarding his dead mother, his envy and fear of Buck Mulligan, his disagreements with Ireland and its
church, are joined merely by their common color, but other problems are associated with the sea as well.
The “scrotumtightening sea” threatens Stephen’s questionable sexuality just as the tailor’s shears
(associated with Buck’s razor) threaten to “debag” young Clive Kempthorpe (1.7.170). Because Stephen
cannot flee his land or fly over the sea, he might be tempted to swim in it, but doing so would be to
water becomes a vomit of sins. Stephen is, with good reason, reluctant to bathe in these waters. “The
unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month” (1.13.475) notes Buck. Within the text, the sea is
so vast and so vile, perhaps infinitely so, Stephen would need an almost eternally inexpressible emotion
for it to fail as his objective correlative.
In identifying the sea as the objective correlative, the “situation, [and] chain of events which
shall be the formula of that particular emotion” also became evident. Through Buck’s manipulation of the
objects and of Stephen it becomes clear in Telemachia that there is a deep moral and perhaps sexual
tension between the two, and it is a tension that exaggerates Stephen’s problems with his late mother.
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The simplified chain of events in approximate chronological order begins with the death of Stephen’s
mother, continues with Stephen’s leaving home “to seek misfortune” (16.506.252), Buck’s “beastly dead”
Joyce explores most of these events in great detail, and like the sea, Stephen’s life “is an organism made
up of ‘events’ which may be taken as infinitely inclusive or infinitely small and each of which involves
all the others; and each of these events is unique” (Wilson, 177). And because these events form the
correlative sea, it is necessary to determine exactly what emotion the sea represents.
Read against Hamlet, Telemachia could reveal a form of guilt as Stephen’s dominant emotion.
Eliot writes that, “The essential emotion of the play is the feeling of a son towards a guilty mother”
name in a word, cannot find “an adequate equivalent” in Gertrude. So, Eliot concludes, Hamlet
stumbles around looking for an appropriate representation of his emotion, as does Shakespeare. Finding
none, Shakespeare ends his drama without concluding it. It is of note that Ellman describes Ulysses as
“one of the most concluded books ever written” (J, xiv).
The dominant emotion of Telemachia may be said to be that of a guilty son toward his mother,
but Stephen’s situation is more complicated than that and Hamlet’s. Stephen’s mother was
Catholic woman, and, from this at least, Stephen has and had no legitimate reason not to like her, except
for his being the nearpolar opposite of her. So far, his animosity toward her is inexplicable. Neither did
he stab her, poison her, or otherwise physically contribute to her death. Yet Buck insists that Stephen
“crossed her last wish in death” (1.7.213) and “kill[ed] his mother” (1.5.122). Stephen’s dream vision of
his mother reflects both his guilt and his animosity toward his mother. “No, mother!” he cries. “Let me
be and let me live” (1.9.279). It is rare that Stephen thinks in particular terms about how he feels. When
remembering his mother and his dream, he describes “pain, that was not yet a pain of love” (1.5.100) and
considerably later, when alone, he adds, “Sad, too” (J, 3.41.436). A sad pain is similar to guilt, but guilt
implies a culpability that Stephen doesn’t seem (consciously, at least) to believe he has. It appears
instead that his mother assigns him culpability, but can do so only in the unconscious realm of Stephen’s
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dreams. For this reason, whatever guilt, or emotion akin to guilt, Stephen might feel does not reveal
itself explicitly in the text, because it could be contained only in a streamofsubconsciousness, a narrative
style beyond even Joyce. That emotion, like Hamlet’s, whatever it is, is hidden beneath Stephen’s
consciousness and, by extension of Eliot’s objective correlative theory, beneath the surface of the waters
surrounding Ireland.
Joyce manipulates Eliot’s theory once more in his creation of “the external facts, which must
terminate in sensory experience.” Just as his consciousness does not constrain Stephen’s emotions,
neither does surface reality exclusively define his external facts. Walking on the strand, Stephen waxes
solipsistic. “Thought through [his] eyes” (J, 3.31.1) for Stephen soon becomes “eyes through his
thought,” the process by which Stephen observes an object and almost immediately transmutes it into
something from his memory; it is the process by which he escapes the tootrue mirror, the ineluctable
modality of the visible. He thus makes his world and each of its components, as Wilson says, unique.
From that point, J Mitchell Morse glosses the passage,
In the next few lines, Stephen’s walking stick is changed into a sword, his legs into
Buck Mulligan’s legs, the word nebeneinander into solid ground under his feet,
Blake’s Los into Plato’s demiurge, and Sandymount Strand into Blake’s way out of
time into eternity, where the nebeneinander and the nacheinander are one....Thus, in
less than a page, Stephen, not knowing who he is or where he is going, has
identified himself with Aristotle, Boehme, Hamlet, Blake, perhaps Lessing, perhaps
Gutzkow, and an upsidedown Berkeley...The whole chapter is a chapter of such
changes (Hart, 36).
Joyce has created an upsidedown (or an insideout) Eliot as much as Stephen developed an
upsidedown Berkeley. Stephen’s internal facts are substituted for what once was external reality. All
that is left to complete the Eliot’s formula for Stephen is to “terminate [the external facts] in sensory
experience, [after which] the emotion is immediately invoked. The passage in which Stephen undergoes
his sensory experience is the subject of much debate regarding the specific experience undertaken, but
either of the possibilities serves essentially the same purpose. First, it is possible that Stephen urinates
on the beach as people pass by. Simply stated, this is a beautifully written parallel between Stephen’s
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literal and metaphorical catharsis as he expels whatever that snotgreen fluid, whatever that deep
subconscious emotion, is into the “upswelling tide” of his correlative sea. Or, second, it is conceivable
that Stephen masturbates on the beach as people pass by. Still recovering from his “Touch me...soft soft
soft hand...O, touch me soon, now” thoughtflow (3.41.436), Stephen may have decided to use his own
soft hand to achieve a simulacra of a sensory experience equivalent in nature to the solipsistic mutations
earlier in the episode. If Stephen is masturbating, and he does ejaculate, it seems fitting that his sperm
can find no mother womb and must fall into the sea, spent. “Flop, slop, slap...its speech ceases” is
onomatopoeia worthy of micturation and masturbation, and perhaps it is best to let the individual
choose his cathartic preference (U, 3.41.45560).
According to Eliot, immediately after the sensory experience — in this case the purging — the
emotion must be evoked. Accordingly, Stephen summarizes his earlier solipsism with the observation
that “God becomes man becomes fish becomes barnacle goose becomes featherbed mountain” and then
touches on the source of all his emotion, conscious and subconscious, correlated and not correlated.
Hinting at his mother’s waxen, ashen odor, Stephen realizes his dead mother’s influence on him: “Dead
breaths I living breathe” (U, 3.42.479). His mother is around Stephen and within him, green and bilious.
2659 words
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BIBLIOGRAPHY
Eliot, T S. Selected Essays. (New York: HBJ, 1934)
Joyce, James. Ulysses. (New York: Random House, June 1986)
Hart, Clive and Hayman, David. James Joyce’s Ulysses. (Los Angeles: University of California Press,
1977)
Eco, Umberto. The Aesthetics of Chaosmos: The Middle Ages of James Joyce. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard, 1989)
Wilson, Edmund. Axel’s Castle. (New York: Scribner’s, 1969)
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