Looking at Stephen peering into his cracked mirror, Mulligan
exclaims, "The rage of Caliban at not seeing his face
in a mirror . . . If Wilde were only alive to see you!"
He is alluding to the preface to The Picture of Dorian
Gray (1891), where Oscar
Wilde defines two great movements in 19th century
literature in terms of the reactions of the reading public:
“The nineteenth century dislike of Realism is the rage of
Caliban seeing his own face in a glass. / The nineteenth
century dislike of Romanticism is the rage of Caliban not
seeing his own face in a glass.”
Wilde’s meaning seems clear enough: the benighted bourgeois
are like Caliban, the anti-hero of Shakespeare’s The
Tempest who resists Prospero's civilizing influences.
When realistic art accurately imitates humanity
in all its imperfection—the extreme form was "naturalism" as
practiced by Émile Zola
and other late 19th century writers—middle-class readers are
outraged by an ugliness that they understand all too well. But
when romantic art presents avant-garde visions of what
humanity might be, they howl in protest at having no ability
to relate to it.
But Stephen is himself a romantic artist. Why should Mulligan
compare him to the critics of such art? He probably
intends no exact analogy but is merely playing with the
implicit contrast between external reality and subjective
experience: Stephen is appalled by his appearance in the
mirror because it corresponds so poorly to his internal
self-conception. If so, then Mulligan is only stating in his
own way what Stephen has already thought about himself, using
Robert Burns
rather than Wilde as a touchstone: “As he and others
see me. Who chose this face for me?”
