108
PARTISAN REVIEW
Paris was invited to the opening of the exhibition he did not even
send a reply. But he would have gone to greet an Irish team on
its way to the Olympic Sports. The English Ambassador in Berne,
Lord Derwent, went to Zurich to attend my brother's funeral and
made a speech there which, far from being official in tone, showed
genuine appreciation and admiration. But I do not blame the Irish
Minister in Paris for his official silence. It is in all probability attributable
to shyness, due to brooding on the suspicion that an Irish Minister
abroad is nobody and represents nothing.
My brother's reputation was made abroad. In the course of time
Dublin will follow as it did in the case of Wilde and Shaw and Yeats
and Moore. And in any case it doesn't matter a damn whether it does or
not. At present all distinctively Irish criticism aims at belittling the
man and his work. I quote a typical instance from
Irish Writing.
Mr.
Myles na gCopaleen writes:
Joyce shared with jackdaws the talent of picking such bright things
as suited his purpose while ignoring immensely more important things.
He displays small Latin and less Greek
passim,
his attempts at reproduc–
ing elementary Irish phrases (even as to ascertainable spelling) are
painful, while, on the other hand, there is nothing wonderful about
a man who spent his adult life on the Continent being exact in French,
German and Italian. It is evident that he knew next to nothing about
philosophers, not even his beloved Aquinas.
Mr. gCopaleen should write at once to Benedetto Croce, the
Neapolitan philosopher (well known all over the cultured world but
not, of course, of Mr. gCopaleen's caliber) to put him on his guard. He
has innocently devoted three pages of his
Bibliographia Vichiana
to
my brother without perceiving that he "knew next to nothing about
philosophers"-by which Mr. gCopaleen doubtless meant philosophy.
One point Mr. gCopaleen has missed. My brother "ignored the
im–
mensely more important things"
purposely.
He felt unequal to them
and left them for Mr. gCopaleen with his formidable gifts.
Some time ago part of what I was informed was a rather long
exchange of letters regarding my brother in the
Irish Times
was for–
warded to me.
It
probably represents a fair cross-section of public
opinion. In spite of vigorous defense which appears over some foreign–
looking and a few Irish signatures, in the main there is no appreciation
of
Ulysses
even in its most obvious aspect, as a wonderful picture, that
seems to live and move while you read it, of the daedal life of a large
city. Instead, there is hedge school criticism and abuse. Two anonymous
patriots--T. C. T. and R. D.--outdo Mr. gCopaleen in blatancy. My
