Stephen's earliest memories — intensely vivid and fragmented — are proof that from the first, he always viewed his world from an artist's perspective. Later, as a young man, Stephen retains his childlike curiosity about people and things. He continues to make keen observations and displays an acute sensitivity which eventually causes him to realize that his destiny is to create — to become an artist and to define his artistic soul. Thus, he leaves for the Continent, severing himself from his family, his faith, and his country.
Stephen's journey through life, prior to his leaving for the Continent, is not easy. He is a troubled little boy, and it is little wonder. From his mother, Mary Joyce, while he is learning about piety, he takes on her deeply guilt-ridden sense of duty. In contrast, Stephen's father, Simon, teaches him only the most superficial code of social conduct, advocating irresponsibility as a means of finding personal freedom. Thus, Stephen's earliest morality consists of a combination of his mother's admonition, "Apologise," and his father's advice, "Never . . . peach on a fellow." One parent tells him to confess and feel guilty; the other tells him to lie and feel no guilt. This paradoxical legacy is indeed heavy emotional baggage for Stephen, who, at six years old, is sent out to face the world at Clongowes Wood College.
At this Jesuit boarding school, Stephen is quickly initiated into a life of cruelty, isolation, and injustice; he learns that escape is possible only through short-lived personal victories. Understandably, Stephen is overcome by homesickness, feelings of inadequacy, and actual physical illness, all of which alienate him from his fellow students. Most of Stephen's efforts to adapt to Clongowes result in humiliation; for example, he is mocked when he confesses that Yes, his mother kisses him. Floundering in guilt and confusion, his soul cries out: "Yes, his mother kisses him. Was that right?" If so, why is he teased?
