PROTEUS:
ULYSSES EPISODE 3: 'Ineluctable modality of the visible...'
The “Proteus” episode is the third Episode of Ulysses and serves as the grand finale of the “Telemachiad“ (the first three Episodes, which are focused on Stephen Dedalus). If the previous Episodes were about Stephen’s social and academic stifling, “Proteus” is an invitation into the raw, churning machinery of his mind.
This is one of the most challenging Episodes in the Book.
If you are a first-time reader of Ulysses, and you have found reading it difficult, you are not alone. It is a stumbling block upon which many readers before you have fallen
Set at 11:00 AM on Sandymount Strand, the Episode is a masterclass in the stream-of-consciousness technique, where the external world (the sea, the sand, a dog) constantly collides with Stephen’s encyclopaedic internal knowledge. It is full of obscure references and stylistic shifts, as well as foreign languages and Georgian ‘underclass’ slang (known as ‘cant), which can either drive readers to distraction or to looking up all the annotations in various learned guidebooks. You may be thinking, ‘No wonder people say ULYSSES is unreadable, but it also includes passages of superb description and poetry, and, once you have got to grips with it, I think you will understand why it is well worth your while to persevere.
For those of you reading it for the first time, I hope the guidance I have provided here will help you do so.
1. The Theme of Flux (The Protean Nature)
The title refers to the Greek sea god Proteus, a shape-shifter who would only answer questions if captured.
Stephen is at the stage in his life when he has many questions to answer. He feels ‘stuck’ because his past life has led to a series of disappointments and perceived failures. Where is he going? Joyce masterfully recreates the confusion in his mind, its twists and turns as he tries to make sense of things.
In this Episode, everything is in a state of “becoming.”
The Landscape: The tide is moving, the sand is shifting, and the debris on the beach (seaweed, shells, a dead dog) represents the constant cycle of decay and rebirth.
The Language: Joyce’s prose shifts styles rapidly—from Aristotelian philosophy to ribald humour, from Latin liturgical phrases to “patter” in Italian or Old English.
Stream of Consciousness repeatedly shifts to Narrative, then back to Stream of Consciousness
The Dog: A crucial moment occurs when Stephen watches a dog on the beach. To his poetic eyes, the dog becomes a wolf, a hare, a buck, and a “vulture.” This is the “Protean“ element in action—identity is not fixed; it is dictated by the observer’s perception.
2. “Ineluctable Modality of the Visible”
Stephen begins the episode with one of the most famous opening lines in literature: “Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought through my eyes.”
This is Stephen’s attempt to grapple with epistemology (the study of how we know what we know). He is testing the limits of reality:
The Experiment: He closes his eyes while walking to see if the world disappears when he stops perceiving it.
The Result: He realises that even without sight, the “ineluctable modality of the audible” remains. He hears his boots “crush, crack, crick, crick” on the shells.
The Takeaway: Stephen is a prisoner of his own senses and his own intellect. He cannot escape the “signatures of all things”—the idea that objects are signs that must be read.
While Stephen is ostensibly looking at the sea, he is actually drowning in his own history. His thoughts are “beaded” with his failures and anxieties:
The “Agenbite of Inwit”: This Middle English phrase for “remorse of conscience” haunts him. He is plagued by guilt over his mother’s death and his refusal to pray at her bedside.
Family and Poverty: He imagines visiting his uncle Richie Goulding, capturing the decay and “back-slapping” false bravado of his father’s side of the family. ‘Houses of decay’ refers to the failures and poverty not only of his own immediate family and all his relatives, but to all of the Irish under British rule.
Exile: He reminisces about his time in Paris, realising he was not the “great artist” he pretended to be, but a lonely student eating “crusts” and avoiding his debts. The man he met there, Kevin Egan, was an Irish Nationalist ‘Patriot’ who had fled to Paris after escaping from Prison, and who tried to recruit Stephen to the Nationalist cause. Stephen rejects him, viewing Irish resistance as a series of defeats and failures.
Key Symbolic Elements
The Tide:
The relentless passage of time and the “Great Mother” (the sea).
The Midwife:
Stephen sees a woman with a bag and imagines her carrying a “misbirth,” symbolising his own struggling creativity.
The Urinating Dog
A “low” biological reality that grounds Stephen’s high-flying philosophical musings.
The Ashplant
Stephen’s walking stick, which he treats as a wizard’s staff or a protective totem.
4. Linguistic Alchemy
In “Proteus,” Joyce isn’t just writing about change; he is changing the language itself. He uses portmanteaus and complex allusions to show that language is as fluid as water. When Stephen thinks of the sea as a “mighty mother,” he uses the phrase “dies irae” (Day of Wrath) and links it to the “swollen” belly of the ocean.
The episode ends with Stephen urinating behind a rock and picking his nose, a quintessentially Joycean move to remind the reader that, for all of Stephen’s intellectual soaring, he is still a biological animal bound to the physical world.
Summary: “Proteus“ is the moment Stephen Dedalus tries to “read” the universe. He fails to find a definitive answer, but in the process, he creates a rich, sensory tapestry that bridges the gap between the ancient world and the modern psyche.



I hope this is not inappropriate, if so please delete. I have been looking at that odd first paragraph. Here are some thoughts.
TL;DR
I have a a deeper look at the opening paragraph, to learn how much I could extract from Joyce’s prose and what that does to my understanding. The twelve lines on page 45 of the Kiberd introduction edition are full of alleyways, offshoots and densely covered ground. Within the lines I read Aristotle, Johnson, Dante, invented words and worlds within worlds. I learned a great deal and for me, well worth the effort.
Proteus
“This is the most beautiful thing we’ll ever have. We’ll print it if it’s the last effort of our lives.”
Margaret Anderson after reading the opening lines of Proteus in February 1918. She would go on to publish chapters of Ulysses from March of that year in the magazine, Little Review, she produced with Jane Heap.
The lines that so enthused Margaret Anderson were;
“Ineluctable modality of the visible; at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide. . . .”
My first reading of the opening lines were dispiriting. What on earth did they mean? I remember reading the whole paragraph and being non the wiser about anything. My line was to ignore what I did not understand, read it but do not dwell on it, move on to the next paragraph, line, word. Move on to something I could understand. The pages fly by, you could easily read the whole thing in a weekend. And still be non the wiser.
My second deeper reading—having worked my way there via Odyssey, Dubliners and Portrait of the Artists as a Young Man—proved more fruitful. I dissected the bits I did not understand, there were many, perhaps more than I did understand at that time.
That first sentence before the semi-colon seemed to be a key; “Ineluctable modality of the visible:” what does that actually mean?
OED
ineluctable > adjective unable to be resisted or avoided; inescapable: the ineluctable facts of history
ORIGIN early 17th century: from LATIN ineluctabilis, from in-‘not’ + eluctari ‘struggle out’.
modality > noun 1/ a particular mode in which something exists or is experienced or expressed. 2/ a particular method or procedure: the modalities of troop withdrawals. 3/ a particular form of sensory perception: the visual and auditory modalities.
visible > adjective 1/ able to be seen 2/ within the range of wavelengths to which the eye is sensitive 3/ able to be perceived or noticed easily: a visible improvement.
My first port of call is always my Oxford English Dictionary to look what it said about the key words. Then I can begin to form an understanding of this string in my own everyday language. Therefore, “Ineluctable modality of the visible:” becomes: (The inescapable presence of something seen).
It doesn’t really get me far at first: (There is something there.) If that’s it why doesn’t Joyce just say that?
Maybe the colon(:) is of help. Stephen says, “at least that if no more, thought through my eyes.” Stephen begins a list. Why? Perhaps he is still dealing with the resonant turmoil following his meeting with Mr. Deasy. It would certainly have me ruminating for a few days and nights, going over and over the discussion, trying to have that devastating last come back. In my head, anyway.
And for me, that is another key to the text. (IN MY HEAD ANYWAY); there I am again, on the page. What do I do to get rid of these recirculating thoughts? I focus on something else, anything that will take my mind somewhere new.
Here is Stephen, in his torment saying to himself; why don’t I list the things I can see and think about them. Then, “Signatures of all things I am here to read.”
Why is he seeing those things now? What purpose are they fulfilling, is there a message they are trying to transmit to Stephen? And what is the significance of Stephen being there at that time? The list of things: seaspawn, seawrack, the approaching tide, a rusty boot. And the colours, Snotgreen (again) (the seawrack), bluesilver (the tide), rust (boot).
Then he has it. These are signs, coloured signs. And he is back to Nestor and Aristotle and the disappointed bridge leading to unrealised possibilities of what is and what could have been. Stephen is now thinking about the present and how it links to something as yet unknown or seen. His possible ruminations about Mr. Deasy have been erased by his looking around him. With this displacement he can now concentrate on the meaning of it all.
But something is missing. There is something that connects his thoughts and those objects and events that he cannot quite grasp hold off. He is back to Aristotle: Limits of the diaphane. Aristotle’s transparent medium in which elements and things exists.
From Aristotle’s De Anima and Sense and Sensibilia we learn that seeing (modality) requires a medium by which things can be and this interlocutor exists between the object and our eyes. An object is visible when its colour acts as a boundary between it and its surroundings, making it three dimensional.
Those boundaries are Joyce’s, Limits of the diaphane. Colour is the characteristic of an object that enables Aristotle to see it, his “ineluctable modality of the visible”.
Stephen realises that colour only allows him to see the shape of bodies but that does not determine if the bodies are there, therefore they must have existed before he saw them. Thus there must be a conversation between the outside world and Stephen’s mind that he is not immediately aware of; Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. I think the emphasis in this sentence is was Stephen’s realisation of how his eyes see before his mind understands.
Joyce has yet to tell us it is Aristotle Stephen is thinking of. And he has a playful joke with us. “How (he asks himself). By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Does he visualise Aristotle crashing around his house at night looking for something and forever banging his head and toes into things. I hope so.
Then he points the finger at Aristotle with the help of Dante’s Inferno. “Bald he was and a millionaire,” . Joyce then underlines the object, because he could be describing the majority of bald millionaires, by quoting Dante from the Divine Comedy: Inferno. Canto IV 131; “maestro di color che sanno.”
In my Penguin Classic copy of Inferno the line translates as “I saw the master sage of those who know,”. Dante saw the teachings of Aristotle resulting in man being of the highest order that of reasoning and intellect outside of any spiritually revelatory experience.
I am almost at the end. What is adiaphane? My OED does not have the word. My guess is that Joyce had Stephen invent this word as the opposite to diaphane used earlier. It does not mean translucent, it means solid or opaque. Stephen asks himself, “If you can put your fingers through it, it is a gate, if not a door.” Here he is thinking of how Samuel Johnson differentiated the two, Door is used for houses, gates for cities” and we are back where we began. The inescapable presence of something seen. If you don’t believe me, “Shut your eyes and see.” If your hand goes through then it is a gate, if not, a door.
I think that is what Joyce is doing here. At the beginning of the chapter that swings the whole work away from conventional territory to the white empty space off the map. Joyce is preparing us for what comes ahead. This will not be a rainy weekend read in a comfy chair. He is telling us we will have to work, we will have to think beyond the words on the page. He is teaching us how to read the book. His opening line is an instruction, a command, a guidepost.
This has been an interesting and very enjoyable exercise for me, and I am pretty sure I have only covered a small amount of ground that that one paragraph covers. I hope it may be of interest to the rest of the group. It probably isn’t sensible to treat each paragraph in the whole text like this, though I think it would be a worthy exercise, a lifetime of work. For me it shows the skill, craft and complexity of James Joyce’s writing. It is very much like one of those images where the closer your look the more layers there are to see.
Thanks Elizabeth. Super helpful. I'm going one page at a time on this one and then plan to read the whole thing back