I wrote this in undergrad, so be nice !
Self Help, as it pertains to liberalism, champions ideals that one can always “pick themselves up by their bootstraps” and single handedly put oneself in a better position. However, one of the fatal flaws of this ideology is the negligence in acknowledging the reality and cultural circumstances imposed on oneself that make “self help” necessary. These notions of self-help largely run incongruent as it pertains to the Irish people. The Irish culture is one that has been victimized by a blind faith in the church; colonialism by the British; a cultural sense of “hospitality” that has made the Irish vulnerable to exploitation, as well as the reality that the Irish themselves have been complicit in their oppression. Moreover, oppression by the British has rendered the native language almost non-existent. This absence of the language also makes it nearly impossible for the Irish to reckon with the most traumatic event in their history, the Famine. Consequently, this inability to reckon with this traumatic event disconnects the modern Irish from a more tangible sense of their own heritage and culture. In order for the Irish to carry out “self help” they must confront and disillusion themselves from their culture, which has become cyclically toxic due to these circumstances. Ultimately, for the Irish to help their collective “self”, they must remove themselves from Irish culture. This is an incredibly difficult exercise, but in doing so one can be afforded a life they would otherwise not be afforded had they remained part of the culture. This is evidenced by large waves of successful Irish immigrants, and namely, by many Irish writers - once having reckoned with their culture they were placed at the zeitgeist of the modernist movement. Again, for the Irish to help themselves they must first confront what it means to be Irish, and then distance themselves from such bearings. To help oneself as an Irish person you must remove yourself from what it means to be Irish. Much of this disillusionment is illustrated in Joyce’s “The Dead”, specifically in the famous feast and the events leading up to it.
It has been posited that Joyce should be read as “Self Help” in itself, for it is thought that much of his writing is practical in application to Irish life. However, Joyce has long held the reputation as being a “difficult” writer and Joyce is said to have held the “common reader” in low esteem. Therefore, is self-help, proposed by one of the nations greatest writers even attainable to the audience he aims to champion? Can the audience Joyce is trying to reach be reached? Are they capable enough readers? In Blum’s, “Ulysss as Self Help Manual? James Joyce’s Strategic Populism”, Blum notes how Joyce’s “complex narratives”, “forces readers to articulate, perhaps even reconsider, the expectations they bring to literary texts.” Namely, it is the “narratives” which may render Joyce as incomprehensible to the “common reader”. Perhaps Joyce feared his stories being misunderstood in such a way, Blum says, “Joyce published his early stories in the Irish Homestead, a journal founded primarily for farmers by the Irish Agricultural Organisation Society. Joyce, who once disparaged the Irish Homestead as ‘the pigs’ paper’, was apparently so ashamed to see his avant garde art alongside columns about making butter that he used the pseudonym Stephen Daedalus.” However, she importantly points out, “Yet the Irish Homestead was instrumental in establishing village libraries across Ireland and in fostering literacy far from urban centers.” In other words, Joyce underestimated the “common reader”, and they were not only capable of handling such reading material, but also somewhat informed Irish literary sensibilities in “fostering” a literary community, however modest. The common readership was not hopeless, and self-help, in so much as their capability to extract practical aspects from Joyce’s stories, was actually transmittable to the people he aimed to help. The “common reader” was a capable reader, and thus, with the language, and narratives, of Joyce’s stories serving as a guide, self-help could be thought to be possible.
A more authentic sense of Irishness lies in the Irish language itself. The language though has been rendered almost non-existent within the country, and this rendering can be attributed to the language being viewed as a potential weapon of fortification against the conquest of British colonialism. Gabriel in the story is a British sympathizer, and these sympathies run counter to Miss Ivory, who can fairly be described as the most “authentic” Irish person in the story. In an exchange between Miss Ivors and Gabriel in which Miss Ivors tries to convince Gabriel to vacation at the islands off of Galway rather than Europe, namely France and Belgium, which are historically understood to be colonial powers, it is said, “-And haven’t you your own language to keep in touch with- Irish? Asked Miss Ivors. – Well, said Gabriel, if it comes to that, you know, Irish is not my language. Their neighbours had turned to listen to the cross examination. Gabriel glanced right and left nervously and tried to keep his good humor under the ordeal which was making a blush invade his forehead” (pg 387). It should be noted that the phrase “cross examination” and Gabriel’s “glancing left and right” have connotations of Gabriel having committed a crime. He has betrayed his Irishness. Moreover, the blush is said to have “invaded” his face. This militaristic language alludes to the idea that the Irish language itself is an invading force upon Gabriel’s sense of himself as an Irishman. This understanding of his being Irish is largely informed by his sympathies and subordination to the British. Therefore, the Irish language here is being weaponized against Gabriel’s sense of being Irish, as it is defined by his British subordination.
The absence of a culturally relevant and present native tongue distances the Irish from their sense of heritage and history. This sense of heritage and history is largely informed by the most traumatic event in the nation’s history, the Famine. Whelan argues, “The language – Irish – in which the experience of the Famine was actually lived by the bulk of the victims was itself one of the casualties… It is this abrupt linguistic transition which differentiates the Irish famine, its representation and its memory from comparable historical disasters.” He goes on to note that these aforementioned historical disasters were reckoned with in the respective language in which it was experienced. Citing as examples, “Palestinians remember the 1948 expulsions from their homeland as Al-nakbah (the Disaster) and do so in Arabic, the language in which they lived the experience. Euopean Jews writing about the Shoah (Holocaust) have mainly utilized the language that they used the time of their experience of it.” He continues, “thus the representation of the Irish Famine in the English language presented remarkable difficulties.” Then states, “The Irish literary itself can be seen as one coping strategy.” However, the Irish revival period was incapable of reckoning with this trauma because it aimed to excavate a sense of Irishness through, if not atavism, than mythology, which Joyce aimed to combat with a more Realistic sensibility in his “The Dead.” This task was daunting, and even Joyce had trouble amending this horrific event in the nation’s history. Therefore, the notion of self help, as it pertains to confronting the Irish people’s own history, on account of the absence of the language in which the Famine was experienced, is nearly impossible. Consequently, a disconnect exists between the modern Irish and their ancestors, a continuum of what it means to be Irish disrupted, and the nation’s psyche perhaps forever scarred. Notions of self help in remedying and confronting such a trauma are not only difficult, the notion is disrespectful, there are no “bootstraps to pull on” regarding such a circumstance.
Joyce, unlike his Revivalist predecessors and contemporaries, sought to undertake the task of addressing the Famine, and did so through a realistic sensibility. However, Roos argues that Joyce is only able to allude to the famine in his story through intertextuality rather than in explicit terms. She argues that the feast scene is an inversion of the lowest, icey, circle of hell that Ugolino is subjected too in Dante’s “Inferno”. Moreover, the character of Gabriel Conroy from “The Dead” was borrowed form Harte’s “Gabriel Conroy”. Both stories deal with issues of being confronted with extreme hunger and cannibalism. This, she argues, is a buried allusion to the harsh realities that the Irish must accept; during the famine The Irish were so deprived of food they ate their dead countrymen. Moreover, she points out that the Irish were complicit in their own depravity, pointing to instances where Irish merchants were making profits trading food while their country was starving. This historical instance is alluded to when we see the table of the feast in “The Dead” fashioned with foods that represent colonial nations, there is hardly any Irish food at the feast, - present only at the margins of the table. Meanwhile, the colonially represented foods are more centered. In other words, the hosts of the party, much like their ancestors, live a life of extravagance, accounted by complicity with colonial powers, while many Irish are hungry. Moreover, Roos argues that hunger in Joyce’s story manifests as such, “Joyce’s Irish have plenty of food, sustained by their sense of economic stability, that serves as an inadequate substitution for their cultural nourishment.” Furthermore, “The result is that the ‘party,’…. Is both quarrelsome, as Aunt Kate and Mary Jane’s actions confirm, and yet not quarrelsome enough. The women refuse to confront the reality of Ireland’s colonial status and to take action against their complacency; instead, they argue amongst themselves, preferring to defend Catholicism against Mr. Browne’s innocuous Protestantism.” Referring back to notions of self help, Joyce’s reckoning with the Famine through allusion illustrates, she says, “he is as much a part of his historical context- deferring and evading the effects of the famine in his writing – as any other Irish writer of his moment. Indeed, “The Dead” serves as testimony to how pervasive the traumatic effects of the Famine were, when even a writer of Joyce’s caliber, with conscious determination to articulate the unspeakable, remains unsuccessful in expressing the truth.” Joyce perhaps ventured closer than any other of his fellow Irish writers to touch upon the trauma of the famine, but like those same writers he was only able to do so by masking and covering the topic. Veiling the subject matter with intertextuality here rather than allusions and mythology as he predecessors had done before; a veiling of the trauma all the same. Again, self-help here, regarding a confrontation and reckoning with the trauma of the Famine, seems impossible.
The Church and British colonialism are perhaps the greatest hindrances over a liberation of the Irish psyche. One of the most striking instances in the story was previously mentioned within Roos’ analysis, the episode in which, in her words, the women “argue amongst themselves, preferring to defend Catholicism against Mr. Browne’s innocuous Protestantism.” More specifically, they are talking about Aunt Julia’s being thrown out of the choir as an affect of women being banned form such participation. Mary Jane challenged Aunt Kate as to the reasons why one would “slave” over being in the Church choir in the first place, it says, “- Well isn’t it for the honour of God, Aunt Kate? Asked Mary Jane twisting around on the piano stool and smiling. Aunt Kate turned fiercely on her niece and said: - I know all about the honour of God, but I think its not at all honourable for the pope to turn out the women out of the choirs that have slaved there all their lives and put little whippersnappers of boys over their heads. I suppose it is for the good of the Church if the pope does it. But it’s not just, Mary Jane, and it’s not right” (pg 390). Here we see, as Roos describes, Aunt Kate’s “defense of Catholicism”. Furthermore, we see Catholicism being used against her niece, it is being weaponized within and against her own family. Prior to her scolding her, it is said, “Aunt Kate turned fiercely on her niece and said.” “Niece” here is also a pun on “knees”. In other words, Aunt Kate is “turning on her knees”, scolding her niece from a position of prayer. It is also of note that this is one of the times when somebody in the story loses his/her temper. Nevertheless, Aunt Kate is resigned to notions of papal infallibility, after all, “I suppose it is good for the Church if the pope does it.” Following this dispossession of her composure it is said Mary Jane replies, “-Now Aunt Kate, you’re giving scandal to Mr Browne who is of the other persuasion. Aunt Kate turned to Mr Browne, who was grinning at this allusion to his religion….” Shortly thereafter it is said, “- And besides, Aunt Kate, said Mary Jane, we really are all hungry and when we are hungry we are all very quarrelsome.” It should be noted that Aunt Kate and Mary Jane share an exchange over faith that leads to an outburst, before than resigning themselves to the rule of the Church. Their frustrations are present, though they understand it to be in vein, and instead they should accept these frustrations as matters of fact rather than speak upon it. Furthermore, this outburst regarding the Church is followed by an apologetic tone towards Mr Browne, a Protestant and somebody who is alluded to as being English as well, due to his namesake (Dilworth). In other words, the two entities domineering over this exchange are the Church and The English; the alternative to this outburst would be to accept the rule of the church, and appease their guest. Rather than give voice to these frustrations, they should be resigned, they should be quiet, - the solution is always silence. Nevertheless, they can not inhibit these frustrations, and this proves to be a matter that inhibits solidarity within the family. Thus, rendering them vulnerable to subordination from such entities. Following this, they note their hunger, they want to voice their frustrations, and these domineering forces over their lives also render them malnourished. From this position self-help is deeply inhibited by the Church, and the ever-looming English.
The fatal flaw in Irish culture, which hinders self-help, may be the sense of Irish hospitality that Gabriel harps on in his speech. This hospitality is conflated with silence, which is alluded to throughout the story. It is Mr Browne who stands in as the exploitative oppressor throughout the story, often being appeased by his guests. Dilowrth argues that Browne’s namesake is an explicit allusion to the historical Archbishop Browne, saying, “Archbishop Browne was, in fact, the single person most immediately responsible for the suppression of the Irish monasteries in order to transfer their property and wealth to the English King largely for distribution to those who would secure English political power in Ireland.” Monasteries were of great importance at this time, pointing out, "All the burden of supporting schools, hospitals, charitable works, and homes for travellers rested upon monasteries, and their dissolution naturally resulted in the destruction of these most necessary services." Therefore, the conversation regarding Freddy Malins’ retreat to “dry out” at Mount Melleray’s Monastery preceding Gabriel’s speech, and Mr Browne’s interest in it, gain context. It says, “The table then spoke of Mount Melleray, how bracing the air was down there, how hospitable the monks were and how they never asked for a penny- piece from their guests. – And do you mean to say, asked Mr Browne incredulously, that a chap can go down there and put up there as if it were a hotel and live on the fat of the land and then come away without paying anything?” (pg 395). Moreover, “He was astonished to hear that the monks never spoke, got up at two in the morning and slept in their coffins. He asked what they did it for. – That’s the rule of the order, said Aunt Kate firmly. –Yes, but why? Asked Mr Browne”. Shortly after it says, “- The explanation was not very clear for Mr Browne grinned and said: - I like that idea very much but wouldn’t a comfortable spring beddo them as well as a coffin? – The coffin, said Mary Jane is to remind them of their last end. As the subject had grown lugubrious it was buried in a silence of the table” (pg 395). Here we see a direct connection between Browne the historical figure and Browne the character. Indicated by his grin, he does not understand the rationale, but he does understand the potential to exploit such resources. Also again we see an incident in which Browne, the personification of Englishness in this story, is present during an incidence of Aunt Kate’s blind faith in the rationale proposed by the Church, “that’s the rule of the order.” He grins both times in such instances, alluding to his being privy to such vulnerabilities. Furthermore, this silence by which the monks live by is then analogously applied to those at the table in, “As the subject had grown lugubrious it was buried in a silence of the table.” In other words, notions of hospitality when conflated with silence renders these people, not only in a position to be exposed, but renders them dead. Gabriel then begins his speech and speaks of similar sentiments, “I feel more strongly with every recurring year that our country has no tradition which does it so much honor and which it should guard so jealously as that of it’s hospitality” (pg 396). This is not only consistent ethically with that of the monks, but also grants context to Gabriel’s aforementioned exchange with Miss Ivors. Miss Ivors alludes to getting in touch with a tradition that is honorable and more authentically Irish. This is precisely what Gabriel is “guarding” against, for that tradition runs incongruent with the tradition he understands, his tradition allows for hospitality, or more explicitly stated, their exploitation. Gabriel continues, “the tradition of genuine warm hearted courteous Irish hospitality, which our forefathers have handed out to us and which we in turn must hand down to our descendants, is still alive among us” (pg 397). Joyce here may as well spell out “we gracious oppressors…”. This also echoes the points that Roos made in her analysis, the continuum of a complicit oppression that harkens back to the Famine. Moreover, this also refrains another point of hers as well, for Gabriel here is relying on sentimentality, much like the Irish Revivalists who relied on mythology and folklore to address their problems. Joyce here is criticizing such revivalists through Gabriel but is also rendering him as a man who is insufficiently performing within his gender role. The party eagerly awaited Gabriel’s arrival at the beginning of the party, and was somewhat a master of ceremonies, cutting the goose, giving the speech, but he is ultimately a failure incapable of being a sufficient leader, he is only able to spew sentimentality. Yet, this is much the case for many of the men of Ireland. Their absence of leadership can be attributed to the culture of silence that allows for their subordination, but also their absence can be attributed to those possible leaders leaving. Roos articulates this point, “By Joyce’s own account, the ‘individual’, free thinking, masculine men – like Joyce himself – leave Catholicism and Ireland behind; those who remain are feminized and lack, as Joyce’s Gabriel does, ‘self respect.’ Joyce’s Gabriel’s sense of his own inadequacy is perpetuated by the fact that he has been left behind as feminized nurse figure to care for his elderly aunts instead of emigrating in search for better possibilities.” Gabriel, a weak man among weak men; for all of the possible leaders have already reckoned with their culture, freed themselves from it, and then left. Joyce wonderfully illustrates a culture devoid of leadership that is cyclically toxic, devoid of solidarity, Religiously fanatical, and “hospitable” to a fault. All of this renders them ripe for exploitation when their hosts aren’t already supporting their oppressors directly.
To be able to confront this culture affords oneself the possibility to gain new insights that then allow for self-help to be plausible. Whelan says, “Modern Ireland was haunted by the afterlife of that deeper world from which it was permanently estranged. And here lay Joyce’s most profound insight: The Irish in this condition were not deprived of modernity – they literally embodied it.” Moreover saying, “It is a world of shadows, condemned always to the second hand, to an identity based on alienation from self and others.” Joyce, Beckett, Shaw, including other were among a number of Irish writers who were at the zeitgeist of the modernist movement. This is no coincidence, for modernity aimed to refute a classical understanding of the world. The disconnect of the people from the trauma of the famine, the rule of the church over the rationale of the people, and the colonizing of Ireland by the British all posed a bearing over the Irish psyche that needed to be abandoned before one could consider oneself an “individual.” However, in going about this departure, one was afforded a worldview that was synonymous with the values of the modernist movement.
Self-help is possible for the Irish, but in order to do so one must first reckon with what it means to be Irish, and then abandon such sensibilities before putting oneself in a position where such help is attainable. This is unfortunately incredibly difficult for a country that has long held onto these aforementioned worldviews. With the Church and British oppressors maintaining a strong hold over the Irish psyche, and many Irish even complicit in their oppression, it is understandable if one can not escape from such cultural clamps. To be freed form such bearings, one must depart from the culture, and only then can they be an “individual.”
Works Cited
Blum, B. “Ulysses as Self-Help Manual? James Joyce's Strategic Populism.” Modern Language Quarterly, vol. 74, no. 1, Jan. 2013, pp. 67–93., doi:10.1215/00267929-1892726.
Dilworth, Thomas. “Mr. Browne in ‘The Dead.’” James Joyce Quarterly, The U niversity of Tulsa, 23 Jan. 2014, muse.jhu.edu/article/535900
Roos, Bonnie. “James Joyce's &Quot;The Dead&Quot; and Bret Harte's Gabriel Conroy: The Nature of the Feast.” The Yale Journal of Criticism, vol. 15, no. 1, 2002, pp. 99–126., doi:10.1353/yale.2002.0013.
Joyce, James, and Don Gifford. Dubliners ; A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Barnes & Noble, 1992.
Whelan, Kevin. “The Memories of ‘The Dead.’” The Yale Journal of Criticism, The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1 Apr. 2002, muse.jhu.edu/article/36914.