11 20 5655 https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/a88dd048c9d05b5fee98b7c4a86030b9.pdf 8aa15dc4af649b95466decc592cc0aa9 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The Gadfly</em> Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, <em>The </em><em>Gadfly</em> is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the <em>The Gadfly</em> Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 12 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 40 #4 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Barajas, Sebastian (Editor-in-Chief) Title A name given to the resource The Gadfly, Vol. XXXVIII Issue 04 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-11-01 Description An account of the resource Volume XXXVIII, Issue 04 of The Gadfly. Published November 01, 2016. (Misnumbered as Vol. XL, Issue 04). Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Gadfly Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/fa4c981a8b17b557656ae870bd308804.pdf a35d551bed9d5e5039da2d2dd2b1f6e2 PDF Text Text WINTER, 1988 c z c Q ~ oi ... "' ::c Ill Ill u z c ~ z u ~ ,,.: Ill: Ill Ci z iii z c ~ ~ u Ill ::c Ill ::c ... �ENERGEIA: The activity in which anything is fully itself. t1 ... Cover: Acrylic on Paper by Jana Giles Printed by the St. John's College Press St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland vou &vtpy&ta ~coti ... (Aristotle's Metaphysics, 1072b) Staff: Rachel Boyce Carloss Chamberlain Jana Giles Erika Hoffman Daniel Hoh Michael McShane Derick Miller Ange Mlinko Kenneth Paradis Dwayne Rogers Co-Editors: Laurie Cooper Rhonda Datcher Faculty Advisor: Henry Higuera With special thanks to: Tina Davidson Ray Gifford George Turner Ty Yancey Energeia is a non-profit, student magazine which is published three times a year and distributed among the students, faculty, alumni and staff of St. John's College, Annapolis and Santa Fe. The Energeia staff welcomes submissions from all members of the community--essays, poems, stories, original math proofs, lab projects, drawings, and the like . • • ,,..., /J....,-'7 �CONTENTS PHOTOGRAPH Greg Ferguson 4 LOIRE-ET-CHER, 1986 Dahra Latham 5 THE THEME OF THE FUGUE INC MINOR Rachel Boyce 6 THE PROPHET Ange Mlinko 8 DRAWING Marcus Eubanks 9 THE WELL OF LIGHT Claudia Probst 10 ANALYSIS FOR THE DETERMINATION OF A PARAMETER FOR THE PARABOLA Mark Ressler 13 Jana Giles 16 17 18 GREEK MYTHS OF RESPONSIBILITY AND OTHER OBSTACLES TO PITY Donna Strow 19 AUTUMN DAY SALON E =MC Scott Vineberg 24 25 PHOTOGRAPH Greg Ferguson 26 SEEING WITH BOTH EYES OPEN Graham Redgrave 27 VARIANT SONNET: AMAZON MOURNING Dahra Latham 33 UNTITLED POEM Sahana Dharmapuri 34 THE RETURN OF OEDIPUS REX: THE METAPHYSICS OF INCEST Michael McShane 35 PHOTOGRAPH Greg Ferguson 39 A MODERN INVESTIGATION OF THE ECCENTRIC HYPOTHESIS Tim McNicholl 40 AN ADAPTION, 1987 Carolyn Barndt 44 THE BOW OF HERACLES John Pronko 45 THREE LOY AL HAIK US Jana Giles 47 THE LEARNED PRINCESS Erika Wilson 48 PHOTOGRAPH Greg Ferguson 52 I. II. III. KE I PO THE FOX T.J. �Loire-et-Cher, 1986 Dahra Latham ('90) I begin poetry in true face coming home, seal away weed-green contact lenses scrub away molten golden color that the world imposes rise through fathoms of falsehood revealing pearl-pale and storm-eyed body stepped out of Renaissance portrait shining like dolphin through ocean through ragged breaker of hair washed sudden} y from red to brown. I take up the pen. And all the hard-birthed beauties I have ever read fall about me an irrelevant rain. 5 4 �throws off expectations and requires that the more instinctive interval be passed. The second playing of the theme, in G minor, which begins " 7 /\. 4 6 1 1 instead of l 7 f 5 6, solves the problem of reaching down to 4 by introducing 4 earlier in the theme. This change takes away part of the theme's beauty and is not at all preferable. I\ I\ After the third repetition of 1 7 1, the center is not reached again. The 4 5 6 movement is heading in the direction of the original 1 but cannot pass the peculiar f?t interval to reach it. The 6 5 4 movement is heading towards tan octave below the original but stops at 3, E flat. Only the very last repetition of the theme allows the octave-lower 1 to be sounded in the chord: The Thetne of the Fugue in C Minor Rachel Boyce ('90) When I hum the theme of Fugue II from Book 1 of J.S.Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier, I invariably end up off key unless I am co~cent.rat­ ing. This may not seem particularly .puzzling smce many people have difficulty repeatmg even ~hort, simple tunes accurately. It does bother me. First, I picked up the theme almost ~nadverte~tl.y. It remained in my mind after the piece was f ~nished without any distinct effort on my part to fmd and distinguish it. Second, I have now listened ca ref ull Y to the Fugue ar least a dozen times, and the tendency to slip off key remains. . .. I decided to investigate my mab1hty t.o casually hum the catchy and elusive theme of th~s fugue. Since five of the eight times the th~m~ is heard, it begins on a C, it is written here begmnmg on C: though. The other problematic note, the seventeenth, is only a half step from the sixteenth, and there was no difficulty with any of the half steps between C and B natural. The theme isnot merely a series of intervals, and its dynamic qualities must be conside.red. Perhaps the location of the major sixth and mmor second within the melody produces the dif~iculty. The key signature might suggest E flat maJOr, but the B natural, producing a half. step. b.etween B natural and C,indicates that the piece 1s m .the key of C minor, the relative minor of E flat maJor._The center, t, is then C. The theme can now be written as: 7 5 6 7 2 5 "1 7 2 4 5 6 5 4 3. 1 1 1 1 The final E natural of the fugue is heard previously and more distinctly when the melody of the corresponding prelude ends on the same E natural. That last E natural, supported by the two C's in the bass clef, is pre para ti on for the following fugue. It is a 1i ttle unsettling to realize that the very comfortable sound at the conclusion of the prelude involves a melody ending on E natural in a piece with the key signature of E flat major or C minor. When a second inspection of the theme is done, it does not seem so positively C minor. Although it contains the minor half step between ~'nowhere is there the distinctively minor 23 half step. The B natural creates a ~ half step like that in the major scale, and the final E natural makes the previously minor whole step between 4 and 3 into a major half step. The theme verges on the key of C major. The theme may not be completely in the key of C minor, but neither is it completely in C major. The fourth time the theme is heard, it is played in E flat major with no accidentals, and any mystery or sweetness held by the original theme is lost. What is technically lost by playing the theme in a purely major key is the 56 half step.Similarly, the second I\ /'\ playing of the theme which begins with I 7 I 4 6 sounds less beautiful because it removes a half step. The theme's interest depends on the haunting 56 half step. The only flat in the fugue that has a consistently significant role and is not ever made natural is A flat, the note which produces that half step. The theme of Fugue II is between C minor and C major. Though the key signature points to C minor as the primary key, the theme lacks the half step. Though both prelude and fugue are resolved with a C major triad, the theme cannot be played in a major key without ruining it. This 56 23 "' 1 1.2..3 4S The first problematic note is the fifteenth, the first F played. The interval between the fourtee~th. and fifteenth notes is a major sixth, a more ?1ff1cult interval to duplicate than the other large i~tervals present: the perfect fourth between the thud and fourth notes and the perfect fifth between t~e ninth and tenth notes. There is no rea~on that ~his interval could not be memorized with practice, 6 There are three groups of f 7 f. The first swoop down from that grouping is a perfect fourth from 1 to 5 and the second a perfect fifth from 2 down to 5. The third plunge is, like the second one, from 2, but this time it reaches past the comfo~table 5 down to 4. Combined with the fact that 4 is the only note lower than 5 so far, the si~ilarity. of starting points and difference of endmg pomts In this last twist of the prelude's melody, written in the key in which we expect to hear the fugue, a C is played seven separate times and is held in the bass clef throughout. The next most frequent note is G, played four times. These two notes combine with the final E natural to form the C major triad. Both the C minor and the G minor heard in the fugue are explored in the prelude, evidenced by the many B natural and F sharp accidentals, .but the prelude concludes with the sound of C major. minor /major ambiguity causes my difficulty with casually humming the theme. I cannot lean into a fully minor or major key, so when I do not have the support of strong, easily sung intervals, I falter. Bach has not created an u'n easy sound with this ambuity, nor a problem to be resolved. The theme of Fugue II is compelling and delicately balanced, worth the concentration it takes to hum it properly. 7 �The Prophet ·,,. Ange Mlinko ('91) '/ ,, You want too much. To want Anything in this world is an arabesque Inverted desire to die; run instead While the wind fills your cup After mice visions scurrying Beneath trees across a litter Of skyfall; look up to shadows Brooding yellow in the veins Of every leaf. In the east A purple hand unshirts the sky; Left in the west is a blot of blood Where the sun was shot. If the walls had ears, you'd tell the walls. You have letters to send but no sticks And stones to break words with. Outside you sift the ground but wind, Wind like eternal October makes brick Patterns glide at your feet. A day is dying In this mass movement; on the skyline Collapsed in theatrics a dark soul On the playing field, fast scream like a crow And no one to hear it; the ears of the earth Are filled with wind and river. This the town your walls reflect, where Double doors exclaim men in credit shirts Who pause at the top of steps, become one White column on the portico of eternity And descend to the street. They read The Post and walk away the news rewritten On their hands, and two blocks down Two black-skinned boys face the wind All forecasts and headlines, . -\ \ / ...... ; Unearthing little liquor bottles from Underneath the statehouse shrubs. At night, cars jump like knives To a red light. Long-fingered men Hide their eyes when sirens sear by. f '\ I "·.., . \, / i ( ) ./ You are the confessor of all you see-You cannot dispose of your pu r i ty. Raking through leaves for fragments of sky To lift to your walls and nail there; Raking through words to sound out These secrets that trace with detached caress A lock in your head. And voice is no key. You cannot dispose of this purity. Scream then, back at the wind's scream With all insensate joy; you were chosen Out from under leaves to under sky-The world is burning in the glacial Radiance of your sun: It is a hard light to ask forgiveness from. The cup you hold is teeming, Receiving and receiving. You want Nothing but to hear the truth With the truth you see as the day Dies in pieces around you, asking who Unleashes the siren of the sun Upon all deadly mornings, and who Gives it pause at the portals of all ears? 9 8 �The Well of Light Claudia Probst ('88) Ryan held the zoom lens and wiped it gingerly with a piece of lens tissue before sending a blast of pressurized air across its surface. Having cleaned the last one of his six lenses, he replaced it in the box leather camera bag, zipped it closed around the top, and sat back resigned. This waiting was unbearable, when he knew that the picture of a lifetime might occur without him, that a perfect avalanche might go unframed and unrecorded. He wanted to jump up from the molded plastic orange seat in which he'd spent the better part of two hours, he wanted to grab the ticketing agent by her insolent kelly-green necktie and shake her until her heavily made-up eyes showed anything but indifference. Easy now, he cautioned himself; stay in control. He folded his powerful hands with their square-cut nails and sat up straighter. There was nothing he could do: if the mechanics were working on the plane, the mechanics were working on the plane. Slowly, he sent his eyes sidelong to the woman in the seat next to his. Her blonde hair was cut in layers and teased out in last year's style, so that he could see almost nothing of her profile. What did he have to lose? "Are you on your way to visit Salt Lake City too?" he asked, smiling his most winning smile and leaning back. She turned sharply enough for him to guess that her surprise was feigned, that she had only been resting her eyes on the open book in her lap, while her senses were all attuned to him, the stranger in the next seat. She twisted her florid face IO in an answering smile. "Well, not exactly to visit there. I grew up there, but left it for what I thought would be a more glamorous life ... " "Wait, let me guess. You were raised as a Mormon, and now you're returning to make peace with the church of your childhood." She gaped at Ryan as though he were a prophet. "How did you know that?" she squealed. "Oh, I've spent a little time there and I found the church of the Latter-Day Saints very compelling myself." The lies were coming easier now. The seats in the gate area were arranged back to back in rows of five, and two seats down, with his back to Ryan, Zach Himmelstein sat with his head in his hands, trying very hard to cast himself and his sister Rosa back to a time where the light of memory shone, steady and bright, like the sun of their youth on their family's Rhineland farm. He could call nothing up, though, and instead thought only of the wrenching sadness he'd felt two years ago when Rosa had told him her decision to move west. "Trust me Zachariah, the doctor says it would be better for my lungs, and Salt Lake City is very clean-- not like here" she'd said, gesturing with distaste at the grimy vista outside their Brooklyn apartment. He'd gazed down, not trusting himself to meet her eyes, and unable to speak. What was that piece of paper he pretended to be so taken with at that moment? Oh yes, he'd studied the doctor's scrawl on a piece of paper that showed a stylized mortar and pestle in one corner, healing symbols. The writing had reminded him somehow of how he'd teased Rosa, when they were children, and a favorite trick of dipping the tips of her pencils into hot wax just before they left for school. He now recalled his confusion, too, when she'd paused to let the words sink in, how he'd looked up with an apology that died on his lips for all the childhood pranks he'd played, if only she'd stay. Those weren't the right words, though, and it seemed to him that she'd packed and made arrangements and left before he'd had a fair chance to find the right ones. Yet now, dear Rosa, he thought bitterly, I'm going to bury you in that place of raw mountains and ski resorts and Mormon temples. He shook his head sharply to break that chain of thought, which would doubtless lead him to mull over how senseless her accident had been. It would never have happened, if she had still been living in a community that saw that the sidewalk was cleared and salted before the elderly residents wished to go out. If she'd been living with him in the neighborhood where she belonged. His mind, having reached this familiar dead end, began to drift and take in the voices coming from a few seats down and behind his back. Annoyed at the chatter, he stirred himself and rose, looking around for a destination. Across the waiting area there was a coffee and newspaper vending stand. The woman behind it was leaning on the counter, flirting in low, rich Jamaican tones with a security guard. He was struck suddenly by a feeling of kinship with her; neither one of us wants to be here, he thought. Zachariah made his way to the stand in his stiff walk, left leg dragging slightly. When he reached it he took off his fedora, without irony, to address the lady. "I would like a cup of coffee, please" he asked in his precise English, struggling as always to suppress his Yiddish accent. She gazed at him indolently for a moment, shrugged, and raised herself from leaning on her folded arms to pour the coffee into a styrofoam cup. The blue-uniformed guard followed her movements with narrowed eyes. "That be all?" she asked Zach, putting the cup down in front of him. "Yes, thank you." He pushed two quarters toward her with an almost imperceptible bow and picked up the cup. "Sugar and cream are over there," she added. "Thank you but I have my own sweetener, some saccharin tablets. They help keep me fit, you know, and ready ... " He trailed off. Ready for what? Had he been there to clear Rosa's sidewalk of ice? The woman shrugged again, turned her attention back to her friend. Zach flushed, and hastily picking up a napkin and a small container of cream, he retreated to his seat. Was that the guard laughing? It didn't matter; a young man like that wouldn't understand .. After taking his seat he· pulled himself up very straight and tall, and reached purposefully into his breast pocket. He felt his accustomed satisfaction at the power of these little white tablets, which allowed him to indulge his sweet tooth while staying trim. Rosa always said, it was pride, just pride that made him try to hide his age. She would laugh and sprinkle spoonfuls of sugar over her grapefru!t in the mornings. As he balanced his cup on the armrest, he could again hear his neighbors' con versa ti on. "Tell me about the book you're reading." Ryan commanded. "You haven't heard of this book?" The woman asked incredulously. She paused, considered the apparently daunting task. "It's called The Well of Light, and it's written by John P. Smothers, who left our church fifteen years ago and became the owner of a very successful cruise ship line. He describes how unhappy he was, entertaining rich clients and travelling constantly aboard his ships. He says he fell deeper and deeper into despair, drinking all the time and seeing no way out. But then God" - she paused for effect - "God went to work in his life, buoying him up from the depths of his despair, and making him care again. Care about his family and himself, too. That's what that title's about, you see. It was as though he'd fallen down a well of indifference, but then God put a light at the bottom, a light he didn't expect." "Uh-huh. Is this the book that made you think of returning to the church?" Ryan asked, uninterested in her specific answer, but fascinated that she could speak so feelingly about Smothers' well-calculated effort to make a buck. He marvelled inwardly at how people fool themselves. Zach held his metal box of saccharin tablets between his thumb and forefinger. He slid the lid back and was suddenly overwhelmed by the 11 �memory of a scene captured in a snapshot he hadn't seen in decades. It was of Rosa at a family picnic, squinting merrily up in the black and white photo, her wavy dark hair escaping her hair pins as ever. Her grubby hands held a tinderbox that was a relic even then. Zachariah sat, stunned at the memory of that day more than sixty years ago when grandfather Josef had made a demonstration of the tinderbox's use. How had he done it? Fingers twitching, Zach recalled his clumsy attempts to strike a spark. Hold the flint and steel firmly when you strike, Grandfather had said. Make the sparks dance, he'd said, and Zach had looked up, startled once again by the humor buried just under the somber surface of that beloved face. You had to pay close attention to the tiny flame. Grandfather had showered sparks over dry moss and cupped gnarled hands around it to shield it from the wind. The muffled sound of the saccharin tablets falling to the carpet brought him out of his reverie, but he snatched his drooping hand back too late to retain any of them in the metal box. He bent down on the floor to gather them. His urgency was enough to distract Ryan from the hopeful blonde, who by now was holding up both ends of the conversation admirably. She barely noticed his attention was straying, as she continued to talk animatedly of her native city. "In the spring and summer they open the gates and let the mountain run-off flood the streets, and afterwards everything is so clean and new, not a bit of litter or dirt left ..." Ryan's gaze was now fixed on the figure of an old man on his knees carefully picking up some spilled pills. As he straightened a bit to reach under the chair and find by touch any that his eyes might have missed, Ryan noticed that tears were working their way down the old man's deeply lined face. "Pathetic," Ryan muttered to himself, and turning away, saw with relief that the ticketing agent was about to announce that the plane was ready for boarding. Analysis for the Determination of a Paratneter for the Parabola by Mark Ressler '89 The method of analysis requires the assumption of what is to be proven, so that the truth of the proposition is borne out by the consistency of the consequences of that assumption. A proposition is solved by analysis when an accepted truth forms a necessary consequence of the initial assumption. The proof is established by reversing the sequence of consequences so that the argument begins with the established truth and ends with the statement of what is to be proven. Thus, if I want to establish that virtue is desirable, I would first assume virtue to be desirable. I would then examine the consequences of that assumption, with the hope of fin ding some universally accepted truth as one of the consequences--for instance, the existence of God. Then, if my reasoning is not faulty1, I can reverse my steps and argue that since God exists and since what follows from that would be true, virtue, therefore, is desirable. Consider Appolonius and the parabola: Appolonius can establish a simple geometr ic def inition of the parabola by claiming that if the intersection of a cutting plane and the plane that contains the axis of the cone is parallel to the intersection of the plane that contains the axis and the cone itself, then the intersection of the cutting plane and the cone is a para bola. However, this definition says nothing about the shape of the parabola; it may happen that the shape of a parabola is essentially no different than the shape of a hyperbola. A definition which encompasses this consideration might be more useful than a simple geometric definition like the one above. The establishment of a diameter and ordinates provides the means for an examination of the shape of the parabola, for as the parabola extends out away from the vertex, both the ordinates and the abscissa increase. If there is a direct relationship between the abscissa and the ordinates, that relationship would almost define the shape of the parabola. The abscissa may be to the ordinate or the ordinate to the abscissa in three ways: (I) as a given line to a given line, (2) as the abscissa is to a given line, or (3) as the ordinate is to a gi ve lin e. I proceed now to examine each of the cases using the method of analysis. In his notes on Euclid's Elements, Heath makes the following note concerning faulty reasoning in analysis: "Now Aristotle had already made it clear that false hypotheses might lead to a conclusion which is true. There is therefore a possibility of error unless a certain precaution is taken. While for example, B may be a necessary consequence of.A, it may happen thatA is not a necessary consequence of B. Thus in order that the reverse ingerence from the truth of K that A is logically true may be logically justified, it is necessary that each step in the chain of inferences should be unconditionally convertible." Euclid, The Thirteen Books of the Elements, 2nd ed .. , trans. Thomas Heath (New York, Dover Publications, 1956), p. 141. 12 13 �(I) If the abscissa is to the ordinate as a given line X is to a given line Y, then: A FIG. 1 DE: FE:: X :Y and DH: HJ:: X: Y. Therefore, DE: FE:: DH : HJ. Then D, J, and F will be in a straight line, and triangle DHJ and triangle DEF will be similar triangles. [fig. 2] Therefore, the abscissa cannot be to the ordinate as a line is to a line. (2a) If the abscissa is to the ordinate as the abscissa is to a given line X, then: D FIG. 2 DE: FE:: DE:X and FE= X. But FE will vary while X is given, so the abscissa cannot be to the ordinate as the abscissa is to a given line. (2b) If the abscissa is to the ordinate as a given line X is to the abscissa, then: DE : FE :: X : DE and DE 2 = FE, constant. DH : HJ :: X : DH and DH 2 = HJ, constant and, therefore, DE 2 : DH 2 :: FE,X :: HJ,X and DE 2 : DH 2 :: FE : HJ. But DE 2 : DH 2 :: BE 2 : KH 2, therefore, BE 2 : KH 2 :: FE : HJ. 14 Compounding both sides with the ratio KH : BE, KH,BE2 : BE,KH 2 :: FE,KH_: HJ,BE. Removing the common term BE,HK from the left side, BE : KH :: FE,KH : HJ ,BE. Since, EC = HL, BE,EC : KH,HL :: FE,KH : HJ, BE. But BE,EC = EF2, and KH,KL = HJ 2, therefore, EF2 : HJ2 :: FE,KH : HJ ,BE. Alternately, EF2: FE,KH :: HJ 2 : HJ,BE therefore, EF : KH :: HJ : BE. and alternately, EF : HJ :: KH : BE. But KH : BE :: DH : DE so EF: HJ:: DH: DE. Then D, J, and F will be in a straight line, and triangle DHJ and triangle DEF will be similar triangles [fig. 2]. Therefore, the abscissa cannot be to the ordinate as a given line is to the abscissa, for the statements: HJ2 = KH,HL (FE2 = BE,EC) DH2 = HJ,X (DE2 = FE,X) and DH : DE :: HK : BE are incompatible. (3a) If the abscissa is to the ordinate as a given line is to the ordinate, then: DE : FE :: X : FE and DE= X. But DE will vary while X is given, so the abscissa cannot be to the ordinate as a given line is to the ordinate. (3b) But if the abscissa is to the ordinate as the ordinate is to a given line X, then: DE : FE :: FE : X FE 2 = DE,X and DH : JH :: JH : X. JH2 = DH,X. Therefore, FE2 : JH2 :: DE,X : DH,X OR FE2 : JH2 :: DE : DH. But FE2 = BE,EC and JH 2 = KH,HL so BE,EC: KH,HL :: DE: DH. But EC= HL so BE : KH :: DE : DH, since KH is parallel to BE. segments of the diameter of the circle BFCG, in which EC is fixed in size for the parabola in the cone, whether it appears as DM or HL since DE is parallel to AC and KL is parallel to BC. Now since this relationship has been proven to be possible, the relationship itself may be used as a starting point for the determination of the given line. I then assume that X is already given for a given parabola, so that I may deduce a relationship between X and some known line: DE : FE :: FE : X so FE2 = DE,X. But FE2 = BE,EC so BE,EC = DE,X and BE : DE :: X : EC. But BE : DE :: BC : AC so BC : AC :: X : EC. Compounding both sides with the ratio EC : AD, BC : AC comp. EC : AD = X,EC : AD,EC. But EC = DM and DM :AD :: BC : AB so BC2 : AC,AB :: X,EC : AD,EC and inversely, AB,AC: BC 2 :: AD: X. And AB, AC, BC, and AD are all known lines; therefore, X can be found in accordance with this last ratio. If a line, then, is constructed such that as the line between the vertex of the section and the vertex of the cone is to the constructed line, so is the rectanglee contained by the sides of the axial triangle to the square on the base of the axial triangle, then the abscissa will ha vee to the ordinate the same ratio that the ordinate has to the constructed line. The square on the ordinate will be equal to the rectangle of the abscissa and the created line. Proposition 11, Book I, demonstrates these properties. Therefore, a relationship between the abscissa and the ordinate is possible, and it will be as the ordinate is to some given line. The relationship is similar to the relationship of the ordinate to the 15 �I KEIRO II The Fox (KEIPO) Jana Giles ('88) Jana Giles ('88) I would eat the flesh from your bones, such is my love for you, were it not against the law. It is just as well, thoughyour rotting flesh beneath that still mask would poison me, your stinking, stagnant blood would mix with mineone unnamed, untouchable, unknowable in this grief and sacred passion. In your acidulous smile I saw the wisdom and assurance of cloudless days and changeful moons, bitter Satisfactions's cold enterprise indulged by a dei f ic ac cept an ce. The wind wails, waxing fierce; my cold heart grows old . 1985 16 Sparkle, twinkle, said the fox his black tongue tripped him up his red tail white-streaked tripped him up my car struck him and he burst like a swollen sausage his mouth foaming and spilling blood and sequins and rhinestone jewels. Children squat in the blood their greedy, unsubtle fingers undulating like sea anemones stirred by a watery wind search and grab smeared stones in a noisy herd. Soon the birds of prey shall overcome him, naked as iron-grey clouds engulf the setting sun. 1985 17 �Greek Myths of Responsibility and Other 0 bstacles to Pity III LL Donna Strow ('90) Jana Giles ('88) these words are simple but I have nothing else to off er somehow the tide will pull me along reluctant and ignorant and young I only wish that when I sank beneath the muttering murky moonlit waters the fishes did not have your face 1985 "I would not wish either [to do or to suffer wrong]" says Socrates in Plato's Gorgias (Woodhead 469 c), "but if I had either to do or to suffer wrong, I would choose rather to suffer than to do it." He describes the wrongdoer as miserable and says that he is to be pitied (Woodhead 469 a). Is pity appropriate to the wrongdoer? Is it relevant to ask whether he deserves pity? Socrates h olds that wrongdoing is worse than being wronged (Lamb 473 a). Is it appropriate to pity the wrongdoer who has come to suffer and to regret more than we pity the wronged? That would certainly come as a shock to those who delight in saying, "He (the wrongdoer) got his (just dessert)!" or "(If) you make your bed, you lie in it," denying pity to the wrongdoer because they feel somehow that he does not deserve it. In any event, that is the question under investigation. Plato (Gorgias, Phaedo, Republic) and Aristotle (Nicomachean Ethics) will help. Before embarking on this quest, however, it would be good to state just what is meant by "pity." Socrates' word, € >.. € K.oµa i, is very close to our own. In this essay I will recognize two kinds of pity, one meaning a sorrowing over another's misfortune, the other meaning a seeking to end another's distress. because he is wretched), and that he would pref er to be wronged rather than to do wrong, implying that the wrongd oer is more to be pitied than the wronged. Unfortunately, his argument is insubstantial; he simply gets Polus to admit that to do wrong is more shameful and evil than to suffer wrong. Then he asks, "And would you choose the more evil and shameful in preference to the less?" (Woodhead 475 d), to which the latter replies negatively. Would I reply as Pol us does? Yes, I think so, but perhaps this is only because I have been taught to adopt this virtuous attitude. Yet if a wrongdoer were to suffer, either from guilt or from some other consequence of his misdeed, I do believe that his suffering would be the worse because he has himself to blame. Some would say that it is this very notion of "blame" that cancels the wrongdoer's claim to our sympathy. I think that before we subscribe to this notion we should at least determine whether the blame and the pity would both bear the same address if we were to pity the wrongdoer. Does the same man do wrong and then regret it? Is the part of the man that does the wrong the same part that does the suffering? Again, Socrates maintains that to do wrong "is the greatest of evils" (Woodhead 496 a, b), that the wrongdoer is to be pitied (most probably in my mind I have given you a fixed place that you cannot alter from your distance According to Cebes Plato's Phaedo, the body is "continually changing and disintegrating all through life, the soul [replacing] what is worn 19 18 �away" (Tredennick 87 d, e) Now, if we can assume that decisions about how to act are made by a nervous system, which is physical, this readily verifiable observation means that the man who pays for his crime is not quite the man (as he has not quite the faculties of the man) who committed it. In this case, then, we must not blame but rather pity the man who now suffers as a result of the misdeed of his former self. At this point in the dialogue, however, Cebes believes in an entity called the soul which is non-physical and rules the body. Does Cebes then believe that a man (or the soul of a man) is the same throughout life? That would be absurd, for Socrates' willingness to die, which is manifested throughout the dialogue, is founded on his belief that philosophy is carried on in the soul, a belief which all present seem to accept (64 e, 65 a). If a soul can learn, a soul can change. I remain convinced that a man is in fact a different man every instant of his life. How, then, can we blame someone for his past actions, especially one who clearly regrets them? Yet even if the nature of man were such that he remained the same, stagnant throughout life, I would still not be convinced that the faculty that committed the crime is the same faculty that suffers because of it. Both Plato and Aristotle divide the soul into three faculties. Socrates give a good argument to support this assertion in The Republic (Jowett 436): But the question is not quite so easy when we proceed to ask whether these principles are three or one· whether 1 that is to say w~ learn :Vith one pa~t ofour nature, are ;ngrywith another, and with a third part desire the satisfaction of our natural appetites; orwhe ther the whole soul comes into play in each sort of actionto determine that is the difficulty .... The same thing clearly cannot actor be acted upon in the same part or in relation to the same thing at the same time, in contrary ways; and therefore whenever this contradiction occurs in things apparently the same, we know that they are really not the same, but different. To Aristotle, the soul appears to have three parts also, but these are different from Socrates' three parts. Rather, it appears to him that the soul contains a rational principle and irrational, the rational being divided into the calculative or deliberating, part and the scientific part, whi~h is concerned with the truth of unchangeable facts. Given Socrates' argument, it is easy to see that whatever governs the emotions, be it soul or mind of any kind, it must be composed of more than one part, as evidenced by the fact that we some- times experience mixed emotions. We often even act despite misgivings. It seems most likely to me that the part of the soul or mind that suffers is other than the part that prompts us to do wrong. Let me test this idea using Socrates' argument: Are the parts of the mind capable of remorse and the origin of misdeeds respectively affected differently by the same thing at the same time? Yes, insofar as one can regret an action while at the same time perform it. To me this is tantamount to doing something reluctantly. Therefore, it seems that one part misbehaves and another must pay! The objection can be raised, however, that perhaps there is no one part of the soul capable of remorse or misbehavior, that many parts may each be capable of each. In that case it would not matter that one can perform an act reluctantly . It would not prove anything, for it would still be possible f.or the misbehaving element in a certain circumstance to be the very same part that regrets the act later. If this objection is to be sustained, it would seem to me in that case that the one faculty involved had completely changed its nature, as it changed with regard to the same action. I would not, then, blame the new, improved entity for the malefaction of the old. I am willing to assume, however, that one faculty is uniquely capable of remorse, another of action. If, then, the wrongdoer and the one who regrets are two different entities, is it not appropriate at least to pity the latter, both in the sense of commiserating and of seeking to end its pain? But suppose I am wrong and we must regard the same man and the same faculty that did the bad deed as the one that suffers. Many hold notions of justice and r esponsibility that demand this. Let us first examine justice, which some say points to the conclusion that blame somehow renders pity inappropriate, and then concentrate on the difference between th e wro n gdoer an d th e wro n ged , which we will call responsibility. Why do some of us feel it inconsistent to pity the one who is to blame for a misdeed? Can we not blame and pity (in both senses) the same man? Aristotle seems to take it for granted that we cannot (Rackham III. v. 15, 16). Yet, we are all sinners. We all make mistakes. What does the fact that a certain wrongdoer's sin is responsible for his misery have to do with our sorrow over his misery and our willingness to help him to overcome it? Some will answer that the said misery is the fulfillment of justice, and so we should not be willing to help the wrongdoer to escape it. Some will even go so far as to say that we should not even feel sorry fo r someone who suffers according to what they believe to be justice. Socrates and Aristotle present us with many kinds of justice in light of which to examine the above concerns. In the Nicomachean Ethics (Rackham, V. iv. 3) we are introduced to co r rective justice. Corrective justice restores equality between the wrongdoer and his victim by taking from the culprit and redressing, that is, giving to the victim. This serves two purposes. Obviously, it helps the victim, restoring the equality between the wrongdoer and the victim which was lost when the wrong was done. Also, it serves to deter potential malefactors from doing (and actual ones from repeating) crimes. Aristotle says, "la wgivers ...puni sh ... those who do evil... in order to ... repress [it]" (Rackham, III. v. 7). Now, pity of either kind fo r the wrongdoer certainly does no t prevent us from r ed r essing t he wrong for the victim's sake. Does sympathy inter fere with deterrence? I think not. I am sure that many people who have had to mete out justice of this kind have pitied the cr iminals. But what of the kind of pity that seeks relief from the suffering? Recall that the wrongdoer in my i nitial question regrets his action. If this is so, what need have we to dete r him fu r ther? It seems t hat corrective justice is of no use whe re this wrongdoer is concerned, and certainly should not prevent us from pitying him. The Ethics also raises the issue of r etribution. Since either form of pi ty would soften the blow of retributive justice, perhaps neither is appropriate to the wrongdoer if this should prove to be a valid concept of justice. Fortunately, Aristotle does not succeed in proving this. The best he can do is to say, " The very existence of the state depends on proportionate reciprocity; for men demand that they shall be able to requite evil with evil -- if they cannot, they feel they are in the position of slaves" (Rackham, V. v. 6). In other words, man's villainous instinct for revenge is at the root of this so-called justice! The Gorgias, too, contains some possible re ferences to retaliation as justice. Says Socrates, And so again ... supposing it is our duty to injure somebody, whether an enemy or anyone else ... we must make every exertion to trial, or if he does, we must contrive that our enemy shall escape and not be punished. (Lamb, 480 e, 481 a) Socrates, who believes punishment to be good for the malefactor, casually assumes that a man can be bound by duty to injure someone. What else could that be but retaliation? Henry Higuera entertained the idea that the latter part of the Gorgias (523) consists of an attempt on Socrates' part to pay Callicles back for his insulting manners. Callicles has been sarcastic and rude (Lamb 495 d). He calls Socrates "paragon of wisdom." He says also, "You could not speak, I suppose, if there were not somebody to answer you" (Lamb 519 d), and eventually he does stop answering. As Mr. Higuera says, "Tempers [are] high." So why does Socrates start preaching fire and brimstone? It could be that he honors retaliation as a form of justice. Aristotle tries, but in my opinion fails. It will take more than popular demand to convince me that two "wrongs" make a "right." If re taliation is not justice, then the notion thereof should not prevent us from pitying our repentant wrongdoer in any way. The Gorgias also presents Socrates' view of justice as medicinal punishment. "Paying the penalty is a relief from the greatest evil, wickedness" (Lamb 478 d) If this is justice (and indeed it seems to work in child-rearing), we should not seek to ameliorate the wrongdoer's suffering until he evinces his betterment by regretting his evil act, but our repentant wrongdoer is still an appropriate target for both kinds of pity. It seems that no real justice of any kind presented in the Ethics or the Gorgias renders pity for the repentant wrongdoer inappropriate! There are, however, those who insist on the existence of some a priori, cosmic justice involving something like retribution. It may be useful to ask exactly how much suffe r ing and of what kind the wrongdoer must endure as punishment for the satisfaction of this elusive cosmic justice. First let us look at natural consequences. Sometimes a crime will bring these with it. Sometimes, too, the righting of a wrong causes a wrongdoer pain, as in the case of a liar who is made to tell the shameful truth. The pain here is merely a by-product of the aspect of corrective justice that seeks to redress a wrong for the sake of the victim -- not justice itself -- or is it? Does this cosmic retributive justice demand that the wrongdoer of act and word to prevent him from being punished or coming 20 21 �suffer any and all such incidental (not related to the magnitude of the iniquity) consequences? Common sense says that this is ridiculous. Indeed, Socr ates unwittingly poses a broader problem when he suggests that punishment (natural or otherwise) be tailored to fit the crime (Woodhead 480 c,d). Who is to say how much punishment is enough? If the aim of justice is medicinal, the wrongdoer himself is the one to answer. The same goes in the case of justice based on deterrence. If justice means paying back the victim for his loss then the victim should answer. Such it is in the case of constructive forms of justice that the question of how much punishment is enough can be answered. However, if justice is cosmic, who is to answer? The cosmos herself? Does she really have a reputation for being fair and just? It is clear how ridiculous that is. Be that as it may, there are those who insist that blame, or responsibility, renders pity inappropriate to wrongdoers. Yet these same tenacious souls will pity the man who is abused by circumstances (or by a wrongdoer). The best I can do for these is to point out how much alike are those who suffer because of their own misdeeds and those who suffer otherwise, and how shallow and illusory is their concept of responsibility. Aristotelian responsibility is based on the volunta r iness of action, such that a man is responsible for an act that is wrong if he has committed it voluntarily. Again, Aristotle believes that pity cannot go hand in hand with blame. He says, "It is only voluntary actions fo r whiCh praise and blame are given; those that are involuntary are condoned, and sometimes even pitied" (Rackham III. i. 1). I think that this attitude results partly from his restricted use of the word "blame," which he seems to t a ke to mean, "that by virtue of which one is responsible (in the Aristotelian sense)." Aristotle says that voluntary acts are those in which the origin of the movement of the parts of the body instrumental to the act lies in the agent; and when the origin of an action is in oneself it is in one's own power to do it or not. (Rackham, III. i. 6) And again: 'None would be vile, and none would not be blest,' seems to be half false. If it is manifest that a man is the author of his own actions, and if we are unable to trace our conduct back to any 22 other origins than those within ourselves, then actions ... are voluntary (Rackham, III. v. 4-6). If one were hypnotized into committing a base act, I do not think that the act would qualify as voluntary, although we, in so far as we did not know of the hypnotist, would not be able to trace the agent's conduct back to any other origins than those within himself. Therefore I am inclined to believe that Aristotle meant to identify voluntary actions as those which a being equipped with perfect knowledge could not trace back to any origins save the wrongdoer himself. To Aristotle, this would pose no threat to his concept of responsibility, since he imputes spontaneity to our actions (that is, those actions not classified as "involuntary," a concept discussed below); however, the notion of spontaneous action by animals of any kind flies in the face of modern psychology. In a world that is always asking "Why?", searching for causes and patterns and the order of nature which we intuit to be a reality, there is no room for the idea of spontaneity. The truth, I believe, is that our destinies were set before the earth cooled, since nothing transpires without cause and nothing is caused to happen which does not happen, so that strung about the latticework of time and space is an immutable web of cause and effect, the vision of which Aristotle was denied. Thus any actions, theoretically ,should be able to be traced back to origins other than those within the agent. Spontaneity is, as I said before, a chaotic beast which we intuit to be nonexistent. Yet even chaos has intelligent suppo r te rs who point out that the universe may have had a beginning, and, if it did, this beginning would have been spontaneous. Therefore, they claim, spontaneity may be a monster on the loose in our very universe . I n light of the fa ct th at spo ntaneity may be a reality and that human acts may, to spite psychology cruelly, be spontaneous, let us reexamine the notion that, "where we are f ree to act we are also free to ref rain from acting." (Rackham III. v. 2) It seems to me that, while this is in one sense true (in that the action to a large degree depends on the agent), it is possible that the agent may be of suc h a character that he can only choose to act wrongly. If the character of the agent helps to determine his behavior, and the agent is not responsible for his character, it appears to follow that the agent is not responsible for his behavior, in the Aristotelian sense. Is the agent responsible for his character? Aristotle says that he is, since it is our practices that determine our character (Rackham III. iv. 15, 16). And yet, it is our character that determines our practices! It is obvious that, at some point in the past, the agent's character was not his responsibil ity and, therefore, neither are all ensuing actions and modifications of that character. Have I done away with responsibility? Not really. My attack is limited to Aristotelian respon sibility which, some claim, renders the wrongdoer undeserving of pity. I have left ample room for the more pragmatic responsibility that we use in everyday life in conjunction with corrective justice. According to Aristotle, "actions are in voluntary when done (a) under compulsion or (b) through ignorance" (Rackham III. i. 2, 3); ignorance of this kind is ignorance concerning (I) the person affected, (2) the instrument employed, or (3) the result of the action. But Socrates says that all seek the good and act in such a way as they believe will bring it about (Lamb 468 c - 469). In light of this, which seems to me true, are not all wrongdoers shown to act in ignorance of the results of their actions, believing them to be good whereas in reality they are not? Aristotle addresses this notion that the wrongdoer's "aim at his end [which he mistakenly sees as good] is not of his own choosing" (Rackham III. v. 17) by arguing that it destroys the idea of responsibility for good behavior as well as for bad (Rackham III. v. 18, 19). I find the argument insubstantial and Aristotelian responsibility (for both good and bad actions) fictitious. Finally, neither the repentant wrongdoer not the wronged person chooses evil, since "no object of choice belongs to the past" (Ostwald, l l 39b7). It seems that the re pen tan t wrongdoer and the wronged are very much alike, neither of them being responsible for their suffering in the Aristotelian sense, and neither choosing evil. Again, the malefactor is not the same entity as the repentant, nor does justice prescribe that we deny pity of any kind to the wrongdoer. It is clear, then, that the man who is "to blame" for his own suffering and the man who is abused by circumstances and thus suffers are equally to be pitied, both in the sense of commiserating and of seeking to end the sufferer's pain. Bibliography Aristotle: Nichomachean Ethics, Translated by Martin Ostwald, The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., 1962; and Nichomachean Ethics, Trans. by H. Rackham, M.A. William Heinemann, Ltd., 1926. Higuera, Henry: Tutor and Advisor Plato: Gorgias, Trans. by W.D. Woodhead, Phaedo,_Trans. by Hugh Tredennick, from Collected Dialogues of Plato, Princeton University Press, 1961; and The Republic, Trans. by B. Jowett, Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. 23 �Aututnn Day Salon E = MC Scott Vineber g ('88) Scott Vineberg ('88) Combing the follicles of grass, Cleaning-up their natty harvest confetti; Leaves, trees' dandruff. I confess to Boreas My dislike of the season: Petty gossip. But the wind, darling, Is not a good listener. I tease the scalp Of old Miss Nature, Menopausal Spinster Earth, Greying and balding. A last clip. The old bat is just about ready to be embalmed. She's never satisfied with her color: "No," she says, "the tint isn't quite right. I think I want it white for down south this year." I don't think that would be a very good idea, bitch. Well, Then she beckoned to her bully brother Boreas, And he blew the clipping and cleaning Back onto her head. She stormed out. No tip again this yea r. But it was worth it, dear, It was worth it. A gentle, explosive equation. Tight Energy is Mass. Loose mass is energy. The equality flows so easily From dynamic burst power to thick ule. Fire frozen. Stone burning. It works so carefully in the world, Cradling us from inside ourselves And all around us. Papoose wrap Nature Rocks us with minute bursts inside Pinches us with soft solidity. ' We are the naked flame rock babies of the universe. So soft. Gravity is God's kind hand holding me. I feel how we are so cautiously tucked In the dark ch aotic sky; I feel the rigid relenting bed On which I am laid, And I know I am loved. 25 24 �Seeing with Both Eyes Open Graham Redgrave ('90) Both Claudius Ptolemaeus and Nicolaus Copernicus had only their eyes with which to observe the whirling lights in the sky. In addition, each had over a thousand years of pre-Common Era astronomical data at his disposal. Yet Copernicus built an astronomy which is mathematically superi or to Ptolemy's and which has since been shown to be closer to the actual form of the universe. Alth ough some discussion of what makes an astronomy superior is appropriate, this paper will be concerned with the progression of the philosophies of the two astronomers and the links, if any, between each's philosophy and astronomy. Was there, for example, a progression of thought which may have given Copernicus the freed om to see the heavens in a different light than that in which Ptolemy had seen them? A context, in this case astronomical, must be provided in which to judge the philosophies of these two thinkers, for otherwise one would be unable to grasp any possible relevance of the philosophy of the astronome r to his astronomy. Again, in order to make the progression of thought, both astronomical and philosophical, as clear as possible, we will begin with Ptolemy and proceed chronologically to Copernicus. Upon contemplating the Preface to Ptolemy's Almagest, it becomes clear that Ptolemy's conception of astronomy is thoroughly Aristotelian: Aristotle's name appears before the name of any religious entity. Consequently, Ptolemy finds that astronomy is a species of mathematics which, in the realm of theoretical enquiry, surpasses in accessibility both the physical and the the ological; for not only is mathematics the only discipline which "would give its practitioners certain and trustw orthy knowledge ... f rom indisputable procedures"(Pt.,pp.5-6), but also astronomy is "that special mathematical theory [which] would most readily prepare the way to the theological" and make "its followers lovers of that divine beauty"(Pt.,p.6). Irrespective of the virtue in studying astronomy, the fact is that Ptolemy considers astronomy to be kind of mathematics, and therefore subject to the principles of such a discipline, beyond any principles particular to astronomy. With this delineation in mind, let us examine several of Ptolemy's expositions to evaluate their mathematical and / or astronomical excellence. Before we sift through some of his specific ideas, let us first examine his conceptions. Ptolemy, in laudable Aristotelian manner, starts "from the things which are more knowable and obvious to us and [proceeds] towards those which are clearer and more knowable by na ture"(Phys., l 84a 16-1 7), ie., he observes the appearances of heavenly motion, both firsthand and from his charts, and proceeds to find the order in their movements. In accordance with his method, Ptolemy first asserts that the movement of the heavens is spherical (Pt.,1.3). What Ptolemy actually proves is that the heavens appear to move around 27 26 �the earth with spherical motion. Now without a powerful telescope to observe parallax, there is no way to prove which is moving, the heavens or the earth, but Ptolemy says not a word about any other possibility. Ptolemy's proof for the spherical nature of the earth (Pt.,1.4) is reasonable, as is his assertion in Chapter Six that the earth has the ratio of a point to the heavens. But in Chapter Five we encounter another difficulty. The fixed stars are so far away, as he himself says(Pt.,I.6), that there is justification for calling them fixed and saying that we appear to be in the middle of them; but the variable appearances of the sun and the wandering stars, i.e., the planets, seem to suggest that, even if the relationships between the earth and these stars are regular, the earth is not necessarily the center of that regularity. Furthermore, Chapter Six reinforces the contrast between the planets and the sun on one hand, and the planets and the fixed stars on the other (something prevents Ptolemy form postulating that the whole geocentric system might be as a point to the heavens--but what is that hindrance and where else in the Almagest does it manifest itself?). I do realize that hindsight affords a better vista of the problems in a given situation, but at the same time, Ptolemy was not proving what he claimed. As a result of finding the earth at the center of the of the center of the celestial sphere, he reasonably assigns no movement to the earth(Pt.,1.7), which is perfectly in accordance with Aristotle's ideas regarding the relative weight of the earth and the innate tendencies of the simple bodies. Thus far, though his premises are clouded enough to make his proofs almost reasonable assertions, Ptolemy's arguments are self-consistent and logically sound. After he deals with the earth's relationship with the sun and moon, Ptolemy orders the planets and the sun with respect to their closeness to the earth (Pt.,IX. l ), a process which seems substantially less sound than his proofs so far. Indeed, Ptolemy gives no reason for his order except concurrence with all the other top mathematicians of his day. The order is, of course, not without value; the appearances of the planets have begun to be explained. Mercury and Venus, the two planets placed below the sun, are tied to it in that they move with the same speed as the mean sun and, as a result, can never be more than certain elongations (longi tudinal distances) from the sun. This restriction on their movements accounts perfectly for their heliacal anomaly, the first of two anomalies of the 28 planets. Ptolemy's method appears valid: he isolates one appearance of the planet at a time, explicates it, and, if further explication are needed, he takes each in turn and gradually compounds the appearances (anomalies) together. Ptolemy puts both Venus and Mercury on epicycles of specific sizes which move on eccentric deferents at specific rates, in order that the planets appear to retrograde (they appear to stop, move backward, stop again, and then continue forward) at the appropriate time and that their elongations vary correctly (their zodiacal anomaly). He constructs similar hypotheses for the outer planets, at which point strange things begin to happen. To understand the problems which now emerge, let us review the appearances of an outer planet. First, outer planets can be at any elongation from the sun, and retrogradation may happen anywhere in the zodiac, as long as the planet artd the sun are in opposition (i.e., they are 180 degrees from one another). The fact that retrogradation occurs only at opposition ties the planet to the sun in much the same way that the inner planets have limited elongations. The outer planets' zodiacal anomaly arises from the fact that the severity of retrogradati on is contingent upon what part of the zodiac the planet is in when retrogradation takes place. Finally, a coincidence arises which haunts the Ptolemaic universe. For each of the three outer planets (Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars), "the sum of the cycles of longitude [the movement of the epicycle on the deferent] and the cycles of anomaly [the movement of the planet on the epicycle] always equals the number of solar years in which these cycles take place"(S=L+A)(p.24M). The resultin g table looks like this: Saturn Jupiter Mars Solar Years 59+ 7179+ Cycles of L 2+ 6- 42+ the amount by which the d'e f erent's center is displaced from the earth. But in proving that whenever the planet is in opposition it is at its true perigee, he assumes the existence of the equant. What is the equant? When Ptolemy calculates the eccentricity of the inner planets, the data he has gives him an amount of arc which corresponds to twice the amount of eccentricity he had previously calculated. Ptolemy is forced to posit the equant, the center of regular angular motion for the planet, at a point equidistant from the center of the eccentric deferent as the earth. The equanfs existence is problematic at best, since the planet whose regular motion the equant is describing is not on a circle about the equant. The planet, then, relative to the circle it is moving on, is moving with irregular motion! After assuming the equant's existence for the outer planets, Ptolemy makes accurate predictions concerning those planets; but how valid is the equant, an assumed equant at that, even if the predictions made with it are accurate? In summarizing Ptolemy's astronomy, I will say that the nobility of his philosophy far outshines the applications of his mathematics to such a philosophy. His clear, Aristotelian thoughts soon become tangled in an ill-supported muddle, at the heart of which lie three problems. The first is the fact that under the Ptolemaic system, according to the appearances, an outer planet must be at perigee when it is in opposition to the sun. Placing an outer planet on an epicycle, however, does not necessitate this phenomenon, as is shown below (Cp., p.525): Cycles of A 57 65 37 . . I -- - conJ nct10n apogee This coincidence gives rise to the discovery of another, namely that retrogradation occurs only at perigee. Ptolemy's constructions to make the epicycles fit the appearances of the outer planets are fairly complex and hard to capture visually. More imporantly, they are more difficult for him to do simply because the outer planets have unlimited elongations. Ptolemy must determine the correlation between the planet's perigee and its being in L Sun / ' opposition/perigee L - - '\ b ......... " \ \ Earth There is nothing in Ptolemy's mathematics that necessitates that Mars be in opposition at perigee; for it is clear that Mars could be anywhere on the epicycle. It is the appearances that dictate the necessity of having perigee at opposition, but Ptolemy does not construct a system in which this must happen. The second problem is that no explanation can be made for why the number of solar years equals the sum of the planet's cycles of longitude and anomaly. For Ptolemy this is a coincidence which, when explicated according to the appearances, produces the configuration of perigee at opposition, another coincidence! These two configurations would seem to make a strong argument for heliocentricity, simply because it is clear that the orbits of all the planets have far more to do with the sun than they have to do with the earth. The last problem, that of the equant, is more subtle, more elusive. It seems clear that if one wishes to maintain the purity, both from a philosophical and a mathematical viewpoint, of the orbits of the planets, one must use only perfect circles in the explication of phenomena. For without such purity of form, not only is the mathematics far more complicated, but also the philosophy (at least the Ptolemaic/ Aristotelian philosophy) becomes besmirched with something less than divine. Perhaps some discussion of the philosophical principles guiding Ptolemy's thought is here appropriate. In Book Thirteen, Chapter Two, Ptolemy states: But it is proper to try and fit as far as possible the simpler hypothesis to the movements in the heavens; and if this does not succeed, then any hypotheses possible. Once all the appear ances are saved by the consequences of the hypotheses, why should it seem strange that such complications can come about in the movements of heavenly things? (Pt., p.429) The first clause harmonizes with Ptolemy's determined reliance on the most simple and perfect mathematical figure, the circle. Simplicity is desirable beca.u se the simple is pure and therefore divine. And in the heavens, as Aristotle (De Cael~, i,2; Metaphys., xii,8) and Ptolemy (Pt., p.429) say, the simple bodies (stars, planets, etc.) are di vine. It does seem strange, however, that Ptolemy should think that we, as definitely non-divine creatures, should have such direct access to understanding this divine simplicity. For Aristotle says, at least of scientific enquiry, "the natural way [of discovering first principles] is to start from the things which are more knowable and obvious to us and proceed towards those which are clearer and more knowable by na ture"(Phys., l 84a 16-17). Indeed, it seems inconsistent to build a system with the simple elements, viz~, circles, for simplicity's sake, only to 29 �condone the use of those simple uni ts in the building of an edifice of such complexity that simplicity is nowhere to be found in the end product. Saying that the edifice is simple because it is composed of simple elements becomes a bad joke. It is not clear, in all fairness to Ptolemy, whether he is attributing the complications found in the explications of the movements of the planets to the planets themselves, or to man's inadequate astronomy. I cannot help but feel, though, that here Ptolemy is trying to apologize for or rationalize the equant, a step which I may feel necessary but which he may not. Later in the chapter, Ptolemy says that we should "judge [the heavenly occurrences'] simplicity from the unchangeableness of the natures in the heavens and their movement"(p. 429). I find a more subtle revelation of doctrine in this passage, which again is Aristotelian. Man's most exalted faculty, that of reason, is for Aristotle the driving force of the cosmos (Metaphys ., xii,8-9). Aristotle and Ptolemy both posit the unchanging nature of the heavens in order, it seems, to have the universe reflect the supremacy of reason, viz .., in the divine motion of the stars, which, when deified, has recognizable power in the heavens and endows men with the privilege of being able to gaze upon it in its manifestations. This belief in Reason makes Man in a very real sense the measure of all things, at ieast insofar as inquiry is concerned. A man, even recognizing the power of Reason, would still be confined in an inquiry not only by the limitations of his own intellect, but also by the particula r beliefs as to what Reasonable things are. He would only discover as much about the manifestatiosn of Reason (in this case, the heavenly bodies) as his belief in the particular capabilities of Reason (e.g., the setting of the stars in motion) would allow him. His belief would hinder his intellectual pursui t wherever a particular concept (e.g., the planets moving in quasi-circles) seemed un-Reasonable. It seems, then, that Ptolemy was hampered by his philosophy. But surely no man's mind is free to wander about the cosmos unfettered, without any form to shape and direct it? If a man must necessarily have some form of mind, what will be that form, that predisposition, which will work best to enable that man to see truth? And this paper is concernd with astronomical truth; therefore, if one were able to find a verifiably superio r astron ·· omy, one might be able t o compare the philosophy or predisposition of the astronomer in question 30 with that of Ptolemy. But what will be the requirements, at least mathematical if not empirical, by which to judge a work superior? Ptolemy's system is dubious in those places, as has been said, where he cannot produce a mathematical construction that necessarily provides the appearances. If an astronomer could structure his universe to allow for the one correct set of appearances, would not his universe be mathematically superior and probably closer to the truth? Copernicus, of course, is the magician of necessity who solves at least two of the three problems of Ptolemy's system. To reiterate, those problems are: 1) that the outer planets are only at perigee at opposition and vice versa, 2) that there is 'no explanation for the coincidence S=L+A, a coincidence which, in Ptolemy's universe, is intimately linked with the first problem, and 3) that the equant comes dangerously near, in the eyes of some, to astronomical heresy. Problem three is still a problem after Copernicus finishes with it, but in a different respect than it is with Ptolemy. In order to understand how Copernicus solves these problems, we shall summarize the Copernican exposition of the uni verse. To begin with, most of the Ptolemaic ratios dealing with the earth's relationship to the hea venly bodies are kept, for a very good reason . The calculations deriving these ratios are based on fairly accurate observations. The calculations now merely ref er to different relationships; for example, the size of Mars's epicycle now becomes the earth's orbit, while the size of the deferent refers to the size of Mars's orbit. The sun is at the center of the universe, and the planets, proceeding out ward, are ordered thus: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. All the planets are moving in the same direction around centers located very close to the sun, while the earth has three movements which p r eserve the appearance of the zodiac and the daily rotation of the celest ia l sphere. But now to address those three problems-first that of the oppositions and perigees of the outer planets. All we need do is diagram the situation according to Copernicus's system (Cp., p.525): It is clear that Mars (or any out er planet) can ony be at opposition at perigee. The second problem is solved when L is understood to be the speed of the slower planet and A the difference in speeds between the two planets (i.e., the number of times the faster overtakes the slowe r ). Now the planets are ordered from observati on by their angular speeds from the slowest to the fastest, outermost orbit to innermost. Thus, when Saturn has completed two orbits (L), the earth, the faster of the two planets, will have overtaken Saturn fifty-seven times (A) and will have taken fifty-nine years to do so (S). It is also evident that whenever a planet overtakes or is overtaken by the earth, a retrogradation will occur. Whereas Ptolemy had to calculate the rates for each planet and its epicycle and engingeer retrogradations, so to speak, Copernicus shows that with their observed rates of revolution around the sun, each planet must retrograde where and when it does. Copernicus's solution t o the problem of the equant is the most astounding of the three solutions. For Ptolemy, the necessity for the equant arose when he had to compound the heliacal anomaly with the zodiacal. In addressing the same problem, Copernicus, rather than resorting to the equant, changes the shape of the planet's orbit to a quasi -circle, a curve "diff erring imperceptibly" from a circle. Here Copernicus makes a radi cal leap away from Ptolemy. Where Ptolemy understood there to be a necessity for perfect circles in affirmation of the divine simplicity of the heavens, Copernicus sees the necessity for a very different kind of simplicity, namely that there be no loopings or spirals in a planet's movement (which Ptolemy and Brahe posit, respectively). This simplicity requires a denial of the fundamental divinity of the heavens--or does it? Copernicus's opening remarks are more fervent that Ptolemy's, full of praise for the virtue of astronomy and the "godlike" motions of the heavens. Copernicus is anything but an atheistic mechanist out to rend all the spirit from his art. Copernicus has shown himself to be master astronomer over Ptolemy, but what of his philosophy? At the end of Book One, Chapter Nine, in Revolutions of the Heavenly Spheres, Copernicus says, "And the ratio of order. .. teaches us [the astronomical] truth, if only--as they say--we would look at the thing with both eyes." It is doubtful that Copernicus thinks that Ptolemy made his observations with one eye, one physical eye, shut. This being the case, Copernicus might well be making a statement about the mind of the astronomer, a mind not fully utilizing its ability to apprehend truth. But what would the hindrance to that mind be? Earlier in this discussion, Ptolemy was seen to be restricting himself by deifying reason. Copernicus appears to be claiming that his mind is unrestricted in comparison to Ptolemy's, but to investigate the meaning and validity of Copernicus' assertion, we must look at the commentary on Copernicus in Johannes Kepler's Epitome of Copernican Astronomy,JV. In the remarks To the Reader (Kp., p.848), Kepler indirectly quotes Christ in Matthew 24:35: "Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away." Kepler, in proclaiming his Christianity, is making a distinction about the term "heavens," which he goes on to explicate: "But his Most Supreme Highness will not pick a fight concerning the heavens; for he knows that the philosophers speak of the visible heavens; and Christ of the invisible heavens." It seems, then, that Christian dogma dictates that the universe, while "stamped with the adornment of harmonic proportions"(Kp., p.850), is as ephemeral as the ground upon which we stand. Christians are free to think not only of the earth as being related to the stars in a fundamental way, but also of the stars as not eternally moving in their perfect circles. As far as Christians are to be concerned, Aristotle's arguments resulting in the divinity of the (visible) heavens must be false, because he fixes the bounda ries of the divine at the limits of human knowing rather than beyond human knowing, as a Christian would. For Aristotle, the most divine geometrical figure is the perfect circle; consequently he posits that the stars, perceivably the most div .~nc bodies, 31 �move in perfoct circles. With Kepler's linking of Christian dogma to astronomy, however, astronomers are freed to violate certain Aristotelian precepts, simply because that which is Reasonable is no longer divine, merely reasonable. And although Man is made in God's image and, as a result, has some faculty for reason, Man is just that, an image; for him to decipher the unimaginably complex movements of the spheres, he will have to look to God for assistance. Given that Copernicus is a Christian (as is evidenced by his "Preface and Dedication to Pope Paul III"), how does he view the universe? Kepler, in quoting "Copernican Philosophy," uses Copernicus's understanding of astronomy to symbolize the Holy Trinity. The sun is a symbol for the Father, the planetary region a symbol for the Holy Ghost, and the sphere off ixed stars a symbol for Jes us Christ, the Son. Kepler is careful not to say, however, that these regions are the Trinity; he says merely that the tripartite nature of the universe serves as a vehicle for contemplating the Trinity. Now it is possible to see some correlation between the philosophical and the astronomical. Copernicus's assertion that truth can be seen if we open both eyes may be not merely an injunction to see that system which will necessitate the appearances; it may be instead an exhortation to the Christian faith, the faith which allows Copernicus to see man not as the focal point of the universe, but rather as an integral part of God's world. Having examined both Ptolemaic and Copernican astronomies in comparison with their respective philosophies, we have established some sort of correlation between astronomy and philosophy. Ptolemy, in a very Aristotelian manner, conceives of a geocentric universe, a universe whose first principle is Reason. Copernicus, whose universe necessitates the heavenly appearances rather than merely provides for them, is a Christian, and as a result is slightly less hindered that Ptolemy in his thinking about the heavens. We have established a correlation between astronomy and philosophy; but is there a causal relationship between the two? We have seen that ast r onomy is a species of mathematical inquiry, relating to the ordered movements of the heavens, but "philosophy," insofar as it has been used in this paper (and in the term "Copernican Philosophy"), might better be termed "the result of reflection upon one's belief." Ptolemy probably believed in the supremacy of Reason, if we take his Aristotelianism to its logical end, while Copernicus was a Christian. If this "belief" is the farm of mind as was discussed earlier, then it is fundamental in a person and in some way must have given Copernicus the ability to see things differently that Ptolemy. Again if, as Kepler says, "it should not be surprising to anyone that eyesight should learn from r eason,"(Kp., p.854) surely it should not be surprising to anyone that reason learn from belief? Variant Sonnet: ·Atnazon Mourning Dahra Latham ('90) The river sleeps beneath the sun; Her warm, fecund meanders run Through fen and forest drowsily To the cold wakefulness of sea. To rub her eyes and shake her hair, Thinking of sunstruck jungles where She slipped to sleep, having forgot What strange change this night's rest has wrought. So the pard-huntress surely rose At Tibur, surely shook her hair Half of her mind still in repose Forgetting what had brought her there. And raised her head, in sunstruck Syria crowned To see the first strange frost on Roman ground. N.B.: All quotations from Ptolemy, Copernicus, or Ke ple r were taken fr om Gre at Books of the Weste rn World, no. 16, "Ptolemy, Copernicus, Kepler," R.M.Hutchins, ed. All quotations from Aristotle were taken from The Basic Works of Aristotle, R. McKeon, ed. In addition, any quotation followed by "M" is taken from the Sophomore "Ptolemy, Copernicus" Manual. 32 33 �Untitled Sahana Dharmapuri ('91) When her eyes are violets, he is a universe of dandelions to her, and she folds easily into his gentleness. He smells her breasts like plums and rests quietly at her stomach, listening to the chatter of her flesh. He hides but does not hide here. He only hopes to touch her once again; "to fall into the sublime" he says. The conversation of their bodies is insanity, violence, delicate trembling. When they wish on distant nebulas and dying stars, midnight is a mistress to these sorrows. 34 The Return of Oedipus Rex · The Metaphysics of Incest Michael McShane ('88) Writing of Sophocles' Oedipus Rex, Freud asks why it, more than other "tragedies of fatedness," has enjoyed such continued prominence. What is it about Oedipus Rex that has allowed it to hold such powerful sway over minds and imaginations for so many centuries? Freud's answer to the question is well known: Sophocles' tragedy exerts power over us because we all (men presumably) are Oedipal; we all literally but unconsciously desire to kill our fathers and sleep with our mothers. Freud argues that the play touches an unconscious sexual nerve in its audiences and readers; they participate in Oedipus' drama without realizing it. Freud concludes that Oedipus Rex maintains its hold on audiences because Oedipus' sexual complexes and catharses are secretly shared by viewers. I think Freud's question is good but his answer somewhat limited. I am not convinced that everyone shares an unconscious literal desire to kill "his" father and marry "his" mother. Yet it does seem true that Oedipus Rex touches some universal desire, which perhaps Oedipus' murder and incest symbolize. This paper will argue that Oedipus is motivated primarily by a universally shared metaphysical desire. This desire is erotic, certainly, but not merely sexual. To show this the paper will first discuss some Aristotelian meta physics and then--for the sake of contrast--an Homeric corned y before turning to a discussion of the Oedipal tragedy itself. In Greek as well as in much post-Greek thought the form of the circle has held great significance. In the Physics, for example, Aristotle describes the motions of the heavenly bodies as being circular. The planets are divine because they eternally follow circular paths. The major characteristic of the circle, Aristotle argues, is that its end is also its beginning/end. Thus, unlike an object following a rectilinear path, the planet never experiences anything new. To a greater extent than any other movable, the planet's circularity allows it to transcend change and time. For Aristotle, then, the planets are divine; their circular orbits indicate a high degree of self-enclosed, self-sufficient, persistent identity. Following their circular itineraries, the planets recuperate themselves at every moment, suffering minimal intrusion of anything foreign or external to them. Nearly unconditioned, they return to themselves, eternally. The one thing that does condition the planets, Aristotle argues, is the most divine being in the cosmos, the unmoved mover. The prime mover solicits the circular motions of the planets, which are moved by an erotic desire for its perfection. The prime mover also displays a kind of circular quality. It is pure activity: thinking thinking. The prime mover thinks only its own thoughts. It always and immediately returns to itself. The prime mover can be imagined as an extremely tight circle of selfconsciousness. 35 �Even more than the planets, the divine prime mover transcends time. As pure activity, it has present in it no potentiality whatsoever. As such, the prime mover cannot change or move, given that Aristotle's definition of motion is "the actuality of potentiality qua potentiality." Aristotle describes time as the "measure of motion." Thus, the potentiality-less prime mover cannot move and consequently is outside of time. Thinking only its own self, the prime mover can be represented as even more self-subsistent and self-enclosed than the planets, which are moved by it. Closed off, the prime mover's world is populated only by itself.Unaffected by anything external to the circle of its own intellectual activity, the prime mover is radically unconditioned and free. From the above I hope it can be seen that in Aristotle's thought the form of the circle is the form of the divine, the eternal, the self-identical, self-enclosed and self-sufficient. From this thought I will try to show that there is a kind of "circle logic" at work in Greek literature as well as philosophy. Two examples of literary circle logic will be adduced. One is comedic--i.e., has a happy ending--and the other tragic: the tales of Odysseus and Oedipus. Odysseus' travels represent a great circle, starting from Ithaca, turning through the events of the Iliad, re-turning through the events of the Odyssey and ending with a triumphal return to his original starting point, Ithaca. Odysseus' r eturning to Ithaca represents the closing of his circle, where end meets beginning. There he recuperates his own origin: he makes peace with his father. There Odysseus kills off the external suitors, restoring the integrity of his family circle. He regains his ever-faithful wife Penelope, his troubled son, his kingship, his place. The return of Odysseus indi cates the recuperation of his very identity, which h a d been a t sta ke th roughout his a r cing journeys. As with the planets, the meshing of the Ithacan scene at the beginning of Odysseus' travels with the scene there at the end in di ca tes a kind of transcendence of time. The great circular reasoner, Hegel, remarks that true forgiveness means negating history; unweaving, Penelope forgives and trusts Odysseus, thus negating the troublesome period between his departure and return, a period when he was out doing godknowswhat with godknowswhom godknowswhere. Another example of temporal transcendence concerns the suitors. They die off relatively expediently. More than 36 that, however, by means of Athena's action, Ithaca somehow eludes the horrible regression of revenge seen in another return story, The Oresteia. As Helen drugged Menelaos into forgetting his past, so Athena somehow induces the families of the slain suitors to forget that Odysseus has wiped out their men. Only by this collective forgetting of the past can Odysseus ever hope to govern in Ithaca. The comedic nature of the Odyssey depends upon Odysseus' ability to transcend time and history. Thus we see two examples of how the triumphal return of Odysseus somehow involves a denial, forgetting, negation or transcendence of the time between. Turned full circle, Odysseus can live at peace with his wife, family, city and self as if he had never left town. Having fully returned to his origin, Odysseus has re-captured his identity, place and independence, in conformity with the circle logic of the circular path he followed. The fin al comedic nature of the Odyssey is guaranteed by its circular form: the end meshes successfully with the beginning. If, as I have suggested, the circular form guarantees perfection and absolute self-suff iciency in Greek philosophy and comic epics, it also presides over the tragedy of Oedipus Rex. An examination of that play will reveal a sense . in which the divine cir cle becomes a vicious circle for human beings. There are many aspects of circularity and broken ci rcularity in Oedipus Rex. I won' t go into all of them here, but the most obvious aspect of circularity in the play is Oedipus' geographical itinerary. Like Odysseus, Oedipus' wanderings form a great circle. He departs originally from Thebes and turns through Cithaera and Corinth, from there re-turning home to Thebes via the illfated crossroads and the interview with the sphinx. Although this itinerary seems to conform to the circular path taken by Odysseus, there obviously remains a tragic difference. For Oedipus, homecoming, although first apparently excessively successful, becomes increasingly and ultimately horrifying. An important difference between Oedipus' and Odysseus' circular paths concerns the tightness of their circles. Whereas Odysseus returns to his wife after killing her suitors, Oedipus returns to his own mother after killing his father. In terms of circle logic, what does it mean to marry mother after killing father? Why do men commonly dream of this kind of return, as Jocasta suggests? To marry one's own mother indicates the most immediate, most intimate form of circular return, where the circle closes back on itself extremely tightly. Oedipus has literally returned to his own place of origin, his mother's body. Conceiving children with her, it is as if he is conceiving himself. He can, in effect, be his own parent and child simultaneously. Returning so closely to his own origin, Oedipus expresses a desire to undo what has been done, to negate his past and start again, to re-create himself by himself. In this way we see in Oedipus' story, as in Odysseus', the Aristotelian premiss of time-transcendence as described by circle logic. The desire to marry one's own mother, it seems to me, comes out of an Aristotelian desire for self-sufficiency. As described above, self-sufficiency means minimal dependence upon anything exterior to the circle of one's own present identity. Such a desire for self-sufficiency accounts for Oedipus'(perhaps unconscious) desire to be selfbegotten, self-raised. It implies a dread of otherness, newness or foreigness. Having children by his own mother indicates Oedipus' desire to populate the world with himself. He desires to be like the unmoved mover, inhabiting a cosmos in which only he is present. Before Oedipus' self-sufficient dread of anything alien all otherness or negativity must be annihilated. Hence essential to Oedipus' return to his maternal origin is the killing of his own father. If self-sufficiency means being conditioned only by oneself then paternity, as a pregi ven and prohibiting condition, must be eliminated. To use the Aristotelian language, killing the father is for the sake of marrying the mother, which is for the sake of circular self-sufficiency. Thus we can see that Oedipus symbolically achieves the closest possible meshing of beginning and end as prescribed by the logic of circularity. Why is it then that Odysseus' circle is comically charmed while Oedipus' becomes vicious, tragic? This question might seem foolish; after all , one could reason, Oedipus committed incest, which is a horrible crime against nature, hence it is no wonder that he ended tragically in Oedipus Rex. Yet, such reasoning misses the point. Odysseus certainly committed a few crimes in his career. We must ask why incest is regarded as a uniquely horrible crime. This question becomes more compelling in light of the doctrine of circle logic set out before. Circle logic, as presented in my interpretation of Aristotle, seems to imply that the tighter the circle followed the more divine the follower. For this reason planets, although divine, are less di vine than the prime mover. As set out above, the planets do move, require externality, are conditioned, do desire some more original other. On the other hand, the tight inner circle of the prime mover implies its wholly original, independent and divine nature. If circle logic be taken as a standard, it would seem that Oedipus should fare better than his counterpart in circularity, Odysseus. For schematically, Odysseus' life (up to the end of the Odyssey) should look something like this: A birth, origin From this diagram we can see that Odysseus doesn't fully return to his origin. There is a rectilinear portion of his lif e(line AB), for which he must be less divine, according to Aristotelian circle logic. On the other hand, Oedipus' life drawing (up to the end of Rex) looks like this: birth, marriage, child begetting Cithaera Sphinx crossroads Here we can see that if circle logic is valid, Oedipus should end up more divine, more outside of time, more self-sufficient than Odysseus, for he more closely approaches his own origin. If this is true we reach the paradoxical conclusion that circle logic seems to sanction, even demand, incest; for incest 37 �represents the closing of the circle. Given, then, that Oedipus' life most closely approximates the divine pattern of the self-enclosed divine circle, we are compelled to ask our question again: "Why is it then that Odysseus' circle is comically charmed while Oedipus' is tragically vicious?" Why is it that Odysseus is able to transcend time while Oedipus remains haunted and destroyed by his own past? Why is it that Odysseus and those around him can forgive and forget, while Oedipus is doomed to remembrance and condemnation? Why is it that Odysseus is able to re-establish his own self-sufficient identity, his place and his kingship while Oedipus is left dependent, dethroned and exiled? Circle logic would seem to indicate that Oedipus should have been the most divinely content, self-satisfied and self-sufficient man ever. He obviously is not that at the end of the play. That contradiction, I think, lies at the heart of the tragedy of Oedipus Rex as human tragedy. It suggests the true meaning of Oedipus' much bruited "tragic flaw." It was not for something idiosyncratic, like his impatience or wrathfulness, that Oedipus had to suffer. It was because he made a bid for something all human beings intrinsically desire: he aspired to be divine, completely circularly self-sufficient. Like Aristotle's planets, Oedipus erotically desired to completely overcome all alien being, transcend time and his own history, to endlessly renew himself in a closed world populated only by himself. In short, Oedipus desired divinity, self-sufficiency and immortality. I think the message of Oedipus Rex is that such a radical transcendence of the human is impossible and dangerous, contrary to what Aristotle claims in the Ethics. Oedipus discovered that human beings must content themselves with human things. This means, in effect, that human beings cannot ever be sufficient unto themselves; Sophocles has Oedipus learn that there is no escape from otherness, newness, time and external conditions. To try to evade mortality, Oedipus finds, is to commit horrible crimes. He cannot close the circle of his history without annihilating his own father, killing off thereby, a part of himself. · I think the real power of Oedipus Rex lies in its depiction of the human soul. Part of being human is dreaming of immortality and self-sufficiency. As the Odyssey perhaps suggests, human nature holds out a vague promise of divine transcendence. Yet, full divinity can never be fully obtained, at least according to Oedipus Rex. Oedipus sensed the divine in him, sensed it perhaps as intellect or good fortune (his "mother"), and erotically pursued this divinity, although perhaps unconsciously. Oedipus' pursuit of his divine self took place in a dream-like state of amnesia. When Oedipus a woke the circle was broken; he had blood on his hands. The tragedy of Oedipus Rex is a tragedy of the impossibility of radical human transcendence. 38 39 �Thus, by substituting (5) and (2). into (6), we arrive at, (sin 2Lz)(3600)(Ui) 2 + [(cosL 2)(60)(U 1)-M(BC)] 2 = M 2(DB) Therefore, (sin2Lz) (3600) (U 1)2+ (cos2Lz) (3600) (U 1) 2 - 120 (U i) (cosLz) * M(BC) + M2(BC) = M2(DB) A Modern Investigation of the Eccentric Hypothesis Therefore, (3600) (U 1) 2 [sin 2L 2+cos 2LiJ (120) (U 1) (cosL 2 * M(BC) + M 2(BC) = M 2(DB) by Tim McNicholl '90 Therefore, (3600) (U 1) =M2(DB) - The circle in the above diagram is the eccentric with center C. Point Bis the position of the Earth, and D is a given position of the planet. Thus Li is the angle of apparent movement and L 2 is the angle of regular movement. The planet moves counterclockwise from point A, the perigee. The drawing is an inversion of the more commonly used diagram in Book III, Chapter Two, of the Almagest. However, this will not affect the results obtained. In the following equations, M(a) denotes the measure of line a. 1. Given the Angle of Regular Motion, to find the Angle of Apparent Motion. A M(DC)=60*U i (sinL 2)*60*U i=M(DE) ( cosLz)*60*U i=M(EC) Therefore, Li= Sin- 1 { (SinLz) (60) / +[ 3600 - 120 (n) ( CosL 2) + n 2] 1h} (15) (8) Q.E.F. Thus, Substituting (8) into (7), 2. Given the Angle of Apparent Motion, to find the Angle of Regular Motion. (3600)(U 1)-( l 20)(n)(U 1)2( cosLz)+(n)2(U 1)2 =M2(DB) Consider the following equations again, Let U i equal the unit that measures DC sixty times. Therefore, (U i) 2 [3600 - (120) (n) (cosL 2) + n2] = M2(DB) Therefore, +U i[3600 - (120) (n) (cosL 2) + n]11 M(DB) 2= (9) M(EC)=(CosLi)(Uz)+n(U i) M(DE)=(SinLi)*U2 M(DC)=60*U 1 M(DE)=(SinLz)(60)(U 1) By this unit, Let U 2=the unit that measure DB one time. From the drawing it follows that, (1) (2) (3) M(EB)=M(EC)-M(BC) (4) M2(EC)+ M2(D E )=M2(DC) (10) (11) +Ui[3600 - (120) (n) (cosLz) + n 2]112= U 2 (12) Equating (12) and (2), Substituting (3) into (4), we obtain, M(EB)=( cosL 2)( 60 )(U i)-M(BC) By this unit, M(DB)=l *U 2 M(DE)=(sinLl )*U 2 Equating (10) and (9), Now then, (13) (5) At the same time, Substituting (11) into (13), (6) 40 (14) (7) (120) (U 1) 2 (cosLz) * M(BC) + M2(BC) M(BC)=n*U i Therefore, SinL 1=(SinLz)*60/ +[3600 - 120 (n) (CosL 2) + n2]1/z This function does not work, however, when 90 > L < 360. For, within these values, CosL 2 is negative, slightly disturbing the value of the denominator of the right side of (15). This is mended by changing the - sign in the radical to a + operand which is - when O~L~90. Accordingly, Li= Sin-i{ (SinL 2) (60) + [ 3600 + (120) (n) (CosL 2) + (16) n2] 1/2} Let n= the number of times U i measures BC. With the publication of De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium in 1543, the heliocentric Hrevolu tion" was heralded along with the decline of the geocentric theory of Ptolemy. The many advances made afterwards in mathematics were used to refine and confirm the heliocentric system while the obsolete system of Ptolemy was given little of their attention. The purpose of this paper is to investigate the eccentric hypothesis of Ptolemy using the mathematics of the heliocentric era. Its goals are to derive formulas that yield the angle of apparent or regular motion when given the other angle, and to verify that mean passage occurs at apparent quadrature. Therefore, (SinLi) ( + [3600 - 120 (n) (CosLz) + n2 ]112) =(SinLz) * 60 (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) Substituting (1), (2), and (3) into (5) , [ (CosL 1) (U 2) + (n) (U 1)]2 + (Sin 2L 1) (U z) 2 =3600 (U 1) 2 Therefore, (Cos 2L 1) (Ut) 2 +2 [(CosL 1) (U z) (n) (U 1) ] + (n) 2 (U 1) 2 + (Sin L 1) (U z)2 = 3600(U 1)2 Therefore, (Uz) 2 + 2 [(CosL 1)(n) (U 2)(U 1)] + (U 1)2[N 2 - 3600] =0 (SinL 1) (U 1) + [3600 - 120 (n) (CosLz) + n2] 1f2 =(SinLz) (60) (U1) 41 �d/dL = (n2cos 2Li - n2+ 3600) 1/~ .5[d ( n2cos2Li /2 n 2 + 3600) I dLi] * [l / (n2cos2L 1 - n2+ 3600) 1 We now have an equation in the form ax 2+bx+c=0 where, L 2=t*m L 2/m=t x=Uz a=l b=2(CosLi)(U i)(n) c=(U i) 2[n-3600] Therefore, dL 1/d[L 2/t] or m*dL 1/dL 2 is sought. =.5 [d/ dL 1 n 2cos2Lil * [l /(n 2cos2L 1-n2+3600) 1/ 2 In addition to the basic rules of diff erentiation, the fallowing axioms have been used: Using the quadratic formula to solve for U 2, we obtain, And so, at apparent quadrature, the apparent and regular velocities are equal, no matter what the distance between the centers is. =n 2 * dcosL 1/dL 1 * cosL 1 * 1/( ... ) 1/ 2 =n 2(-sinL 1)(cosL 1)/(n 2cos 2L 1-n2+3600) 1/ 2 dL 2/dt = dt*m/dt = m*dt/dt = m (6) Q.E.D. 1 dsinx/dx= 1/(l-x2) h dsinx/ dx= cosx dcosx/dx= -sinx Inserting (5) and (6) into (4), (n)2 (U i)2 cos2Li- 4 Consider equation (8) from section two. Diff erentiating both sides with respect to L 1, d/dLi(-1/60 (sinLi) (cosL 1) (n) .±._ 1/60[ n2cos2L 1n 2 + 3600] 1/z =1/60{-n (cos 2L 1 - sin 2L 1) .±_ [-n 2 (sinL 1) (cosL 1) / n 2 cos 2L 1 - n 2+ 3600) 1lz) (7) Therefore, U 2=-2(CosLi)(U iHn)±_2(U 1)[(n) 2(Cos 2Li)n2+3600]11y2 dL 2/dL 1= d/dL 1 sin-1 [-1 /60 (sinL 1)(CosLi)(n).±_l / 60(n2Cos2L 1-n2+3600) 1I] (1) Substituting (7) into (3), Now then, d/dL 1 sin-i (1/60 (sinL 1)(cosLi) (n) + 1/60 [n2 cos 2Li - n2 +3600] 1/z dsin-i (1/60 (sinL 1) (cosL 1) (n) .:t. 1/60 [n 2 cos 2L 1n2 + 3600] 1fz/ d (-1 /60 (sinL 1) (cosL 1) (n) .±._ 1/60 [n 2 cos 2L 1- n2 + 3600] 1/z =1/60 {-n (cos 2L 1 - sin 2L 1) + [-n 2 (sinL 1) (cosLi) I (n 2 cos 2L 1 - n 2 + 3600) 1/U / {l-[-l/60(sinLi) (cosL 1) (n) .±_l /60[n 2 cos2Li -n2+ 3600] 1lz) 1/2 @ =l I (1 - { 1/60 (sinLi) (cosLi) (n) ±_1/60 [n2cos2L 1 - n2+ 3600] 1h) 2) 1 /z And so, substituting (8) into (1) and inverting the result, Uz= -2 (Cos Li) (U i) (n) .:t. (Ui) 2 [ n 2 - 3600 ] } 1h/ 2 {4 Therefore, U 2=-(CosLi)(U 1)(n).±_U i[(n)2(Cos2Li)-n2+3600]1fz (6) Equating ( 4) with (2) and inserting equation (6), SinLi { -cosLi (U i) (n) ±_ (U i) [ n 2 cos 2Li n 2 + 3600 ] 112) = SinL 2( 60) (U 1) -(SinL 1) (CosLi) (U 1) (n) .±._ (SinLi) (U 1) [ (n)2(Cos2Li) - n2+ 3600] 1l~(SinLz)(60)(Ui) - (SinL 1) (CosLi) (n) .:t. (SinLi) [ n 2 (Cos 2Li) n2+3600] 1f2/ 60 = SinL 2 (7) Sin-1 {-(SinL 1) (CosLi) (n) + (SinLi) [ n2 (Cos 2Li) - n 2 + 3600] lfi; 60 } =L 2 (8) (2) Multiplying both sides of (2) by d/dLi(-1 /60(sinL 1)(cosL 1)... ),d /dL 1sin-1( ... ) =d /dL 1 ( 1/60 (sinL 1 ) (cosL 1 ) (n) .±._ 1/ 60 [n 2 cos2L 1 - n2+ 3600] 1'2/ {1- [-1 /60 (sinL 1) (cosL 1) (n) .±._ 1/60 [n2cos2L 1 n 2 + 3600 ] 1/} 112 (3) Where the variable operand is + when O~L 2~.180 and - when 180>L<360. Now, solving for the numerator of the right side of Q.E.F. d/ dL 1(- 1/60(si nLi)( cosL 1) ... ) =l/60[d/fLi~inL 1 )(cosL 1 ) (n) d/dLi (n cos Li... ) 112] 3. To Verify that Mean Passage Occurs at Apparent Quadrature. It is first required to find the apparent velocity when the planet appears to have moved 90 from apogee or perigee. In the language of differentials: what is dLi/dt when L 1=90? Since L 2 is the angle of regular motion, and thus is directly proportional to time, (3), dL 1/dL 2 =[-1/60 (sinL 1) (cosL 1) (n) + 1/60 [n 2 cos 2L 1 n2+ 3600]1/}i/2 - / 1/60{-n (cos2Lr sin 2L 1 ) + [-n2 (sinLi) (cos2L 1) /(n2 cos2L 1n2 + 3600) 1/ 2} (9) Now, let L 1=90, dLi/dL 2= {l -L±_l /60(-n 2+36000) 1l} 1lz/ l/60[+n] = {1-[ 1/3600*(3600-n 2]} 1/z / n/60 .:t. ={1 -[l-n 2/3600]} 1/z / n/60 (4) The first derivative in the right side of (4) can be resolved as follows: d/dL 1 - (sinL 1) (cosL 1) (n) = -n [sinL 1 . dcosL 1/dL 1+cosL 1dsinLi/dLi]= -n [cos 2Li-sin 2L 1 ] (5) Resolving the second derivative in (4), = n/60 I n/60 =1 Now, in the first part of this section, it was determined that the apparent velocity at a point was equal to m * dL 1/dL 2. Thus, at apparent quadrature the perceived velocity ism. Since L 2=t * m, for any value of Li, 43 42 �An Adaptation, 1987 The Bow- of Heracles John Pronko ('90) Carolyn Barndt ('90) This is no garden. Don't think I mistook this for the banks of Euphrates: You are not the only man on the face of th e ea r th Although you might as well be --even as we have both tasted t he f ru i t of that tree whose branches are many bu t finite -I see whe r e we are. Cut off from the past Sa nctuar y, th e blind green re li ef -I found you culti vat ing your thi stles and th orns cursing th e ea rt h fo r n ot yie ld ing up more. --You know tha t story; this is not the begi nn in g. Not being the fi rst I can't take the blame for The pain in your r ibcage and countless transgressions: I' m not the agent of you r fall from grace, I Resist being pushed through the stencils of h isto ry. Far f r om paradise Why try to forget what might have been easy But may not be impossible? --although we need othe r skins , hi des fo r protectio n although we have skins at all --with th e fruit i n us rooted, to speak our own blame: To stand before each other, n aked and not be ashamed. Sophocles's employment of the deus ex machina as agent of resolution in Philoctetes is disturbing. There is a sense that Heracles' appearance completely undermines the events of the play. Philoctetes is understandably unwilling to serve the Atridae and Odysseus. He has for nine years fought his own miserable war on Lemnos and survived. Glory is no longer of interest to him, nor does he care to take steps to avenge himself. Philoctetes wants to go home. Neoptolemus can at least grant him that. He ultimately agrees to do so. One might consider this the human resolution of the play. This is blatantly inadequate, but it seems at least consistent with the rest of the play. Heracles appears and in one line Philoctetes, the play's paradigm of constancy, yields. Yes, Philoctetes will go to Troy. This is difficult to accept unless there is some way to understand the appearance of Heracles as necessary. In addition to the three main characters in the play there is a fourth, the bow of Heracles. It is the bond between Heracles and Philoct'etes. Perhaps this bow is the key to understanding this enigma tic conclusion. Heracles says to Philoctetes that after Troy is taken: "From the spoils of the campaign you must dedi cate some, on my py re, in memory of my bow" ( 1.1431 ). T.B.L. Webster chooses to translate the words, roewe €µwe ,as, "what my bow has achieved." It seems strange that a man should be asked to pay homage to a weapon. Heracles does not ask that homage be paid to himself or for that matter to Zeus. Odysseus' plan is to disarm Philoctetes. Without the bow Philoctetes is not to be feared, but while it is in his possession, it sends arrows that none may avoid, that carry death (1.105). Early in the play it is unclear whether Philoctetes is needed or not. For awhile it seems that the only matter is to get the bow, and Philoctetes is someone standing in the way. When Neoptolemus first speaks to the chorus he hints that the destinies of the bow and Philoctetes are inseparable. Neoptolemus also presents a connection between the bow and Philoctetes' suffering: As for his present loneliness and suffering, this, too, no doubt is part of the God's plan that he may not bend against Troy the divine invincible bow until the time shall be fulfilled, at which it is decreed, that Troy, as they say, shall fall to that bow. (1.194) The fact that Troy shall fall to the bow is echoed much later when Heracles declares that Ilium must twice fall to his bow ( 1.1439). As the play continues it becomes plain that Philoctetes and the bow are inextricably linked. In the mind of Philoctetes it is obvious that he identifies himself with the bow. When he introduces himself to Neoptolemus he is the master of Heracles' arms ( 1.260). This is before he is Phi- 45 44 �loctetes the son of Poias. It is worth noting that Philoctetes was not bitten by the viper until he posessed the bow, which links with Neoptolemus' understanding of the reason for his suffering. The suffering which is synonymous with the name Philoctetes is caused by the bow. This is echoed by Philoctetes' stern suggestion to Neoptolemus that he should bow in prayer to the Gods' envy that the bow may not be to him a sorrow as it was to himself and its former master ( l. 776). This connection between the weapon and Philoctetes' plight is further reinforced by the parallel Heracles draws between his own sufferings and those of Philoctetes: "All this suffering must be your suffering too, the winning of a life to an end in glory, out of this suffering" (1.1422). The divine bow will conquer Troy. Philoctetes suffers because it is his lot to bear the bow and share the glory it will win. The bow is a holy object. When Neoptolemus first beholds it he asks if he might see it closer, touch and adore it like a god ( 1.656). It has passed from the hand of a dying Heracles to the living Philoctetes. There is something immortal about it. It has a destiny of its own that has outlived the original owner. Mythologically the bow is believed to have been a gift from Apollo.(l) Heracles concludes his speech with the words, Holiness does not die with men that die Whether they live or die it cannot perish" ( 1.1444). Is the bow in some way a symbol of such holiness? Philoctetes is the rightful bearer of Heracles' weapon. He received it as a gift when he agreed to light the dying hero's pyre. Philoctetes himself states that it is as a result of friendly help that he fi rst won it (1.670). In a strange way the will of Heracles was transmitted to Philoctetes when he conceded to execute the man's last wish. Philoctetes is in a way bound to Heracles' will. The gift of the bow mi gh t be. un derstood to re present that bo nd. Until the appointed time arrived when Philoctetes no longer had to suffer because of the bow, it nonetheless was what kept him alive. The bow was what he used to shoot the birds that filled his belly (1.286). Without the bow Philoctetes would have died. Lemnos was the place where the bow and the man who was to use it had to be kept until a predetermined number of years had elapsed. The asocial properties of Philoctetes' disease may have been to further assure that neither bearer nor bow appear before the appointed hour. The bow belongs to Philoctetes, and since i t was acquired through an act of good will, Odysseus' 46 deception cannot successfully work against it. It is interesting to note that Neoptolemus does not falter in his deceit until he acquires the bow. Ultimately he realizes that it must remain with Philoctetes. The two cannot be separated. Any bow may be understood as a symbol of will. When a bow is aimed, before the shaft is released the archer has willed it to strike its target. This bizarre weapon that Philoctetes possesses never misses its mark. Unlike a man's will this bow never fails. Its will is greater than any man's. Philoctetes may believe that it was his own inner strength that allowed him to survive those nine horrendous years, but without the bow he would have perished. He may feel that he is the bow's master, but in the end he is its servant and through it a servant of the gods. He who is conquerable must serve the inconquerable. Heracles must appea r at the end of the play because his is the one voice Philoctetes must listen to. The bow is Philoctetes' provider and master. He will only understand that from the mouth of the person to whom he first subjugated his will, as a result of which he subsequently received the bow. This bow is an executive instrument of the gods, and the man Philoctetes has been chosen to launch its avenging shaft against Troy. The divine destiny of the bow and its se r vant is to kill Paris who is the cause of all this evil and take Troy (1.1426). Philoctetes may want to go home, but he cannot disobey. He h as success fu lly asserted h is will against men, but he cannot against gods. Divine destiny supercedes the aspirations of any man. The employ me nt of th e deus ex machina seemed to deny the h u man r esolution of this play. In fact this was no resolu tion a t all because it failed to consult wha t migh t be · considered the most important cha r acte r, the bow. Philoctetes was blind if he actually belie ved that Heracles' bow was destined me r el y to shoot bi rds and then retire on a dusty shelf i n Oeta. No one other than Heracles could open his exhausted eyes. Just as no man determines when and why he suffers, so also, no man determines when and why he tastes triumph. All men bow before the ins truments of the gods. Three Loyal Haikus Jana Giles ('88) In twilight often finding the geometry of your sonorous world; and from your strong eye I am given a gaze so finite, silent: this I know to be the moment of convergence the second splintered from infinity. 1986 All line mentions and quotations are from David Grene's translation except: ( 1) Larousse, World Mvthologv. p. 141, edited by Pierre Grima!. 47 �11 1 THE LEARNED PRINCESS Erika Wilson ('88) Once upon a time, in a kingdom not so terribly far away, a moderately fair princess was sighing over the lack of a certain something. "Oh," sighed she, "I wish I knew what it all meant." And with a trembling lip and a troubled brow, she returned to the books that lay scattered in a intellectual confusion about her royal chamber. For you see, our princess was a scholar. And though this may seem to be a rather odd occupation for a fairy-tale princess (for indeed she was), it had all come about in a most natural manner. Some years ago, no matter how long, the King had found himself with that rare st of royal commodities: Time on his hands. And so, as it was a most delicious spring day, he decided to take his delightful young daughter for a walk about the castle grounds. At first she ran about in all directions, squealing and chasing butterflies as her father strolled in a stately manner, watching her antics with gentle amusement. Inevitably, she grew tired, so she and her father lay themselves down on a cool green hillside to watch the cloud races in the sky. But now that her body was tired, it seemed that the little princess's mind was free to work without distraction. "Daddy," she piped, "what makes the sky blue?" "Huh?" he grunted, for the warm sunshine had just about put him to sleep. "Sky? Blue? ... uh, 48 Atmosphere ... urm ... Refraction ... ahem,ah ... humph." He paused to pull his eyebrows together, hoping that such a maneuver would aid his memory, but his daughter was too busy to notice, for she had rolled over and had another object in view. "Why is the grass green, Daddy?" "Chlorophyll." He answered triumphantly after a brief pause. "Ah, Photosynthesis ... ahem, ah ... humph." And he was stuck again. Unmindful of the black thunder cloud gathering on his brow, the little princess turned her wide blue eyes on him and asked sweetly; "Papa, what is the nature of _ Man?" His mouth shut with an audible snap, his eyebrows shot up and he answered her in the only way a truly wise king could. "I think I smell chocolate chips. Let's go see if Mama's making cookies." And that was the end of that. But later that night, as he and his queen were getting ready for bed, he mentioned their daughter's precocious curiosity, and the question she had put to him that day. "The nature of Man." He chuckled. "Who would have thought?" And he laughed and ·h ook his head, willing to leave it at that. But the Queen nodded quietly and looked thoughtful, for she had a great deal of that even more rare of royal commodities: Good common sense. And she knew that a mind such as her daughter had shown would be a terrible thing to waste. So as her husband snored, she lay long awake, planning and making notes on the big legal pad she always kept on the bedside table. The next day, she took her daughter bY. the hand and led her into a part of the castle that the little princess had never seen before. They walked down a long cold passageway, thick with dust and cobwebs. Something small and black skittered around a corner and the princess shivered, but ·s aid nothing. They came to an abrupt halt before a huge wooden door with great knobby bars of black metal criss-crossing it in a most uninviting manner. With a loud rattle that startled the Ii ttle princess, her mother pulled a ring of keys out of her pocket and choosing the largest and ugliest one of all, she inserted it into the nasty old padlock tha.t guarded the door. Using both hands, she managed to turn the key around and the unhappy lock snapped .o pen with a mangled sort of sound. The Queen put her shoulder to the door and as it creaked unheathily open, our princess squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that whatever lay begin such a grim facade· must be horrible. Her mother pulled her gently forward and said softly: "Come on dear, it's all right. You can open your eyes now." Unwilling, but trust~ng ·; trre- mater­ nal instinct to keep her from harm, sh'e opened her eyes and gasped at what met her bewilqered gaze. Books! Wall to wall, floor to ceiling; door to door, the entire room was filled with books. "Oh mother!" the princess exclaimed as her glowing eyes caressed the room's occupants with barely restrained eagerness. "Wherever shall I begin?" "Right here," her mother said, and laid three books down on a nearby desk. Her daughter walked over and ran a puzzled finger across the names stamped on the covers. "Yewklid?" she asked. "Didn't he do math or something?" "That's right," her mother replied. "He will show you how to think." "Oh," said her daughter, and nodded vaguely. "And this one, Play-doh?" "He will show you how not to think," said her mother, and smiled at some little inward amusement. "Uh huh," said the daughter, unconvinced. "And the last, Airsdoddle? "Oh yes," said the Queen. "He will show you what you should think and not think about." The princess frowned, and a slight line appeared between her delicate ~yebrows. She wasn't q"4-ite sure what her mother was talking about, out then she felt the srucwth leather beneath her hand~ and smiled a radiant ~mile . . "N~ matter," she thought, "I'll soon understand everything." ·' ' ·· Some weeks later, the line between her delicate brows had become deeper and the residents gf the castle thought it had become a permanent ' feature upon the' little p'rincess's face. "I don't like it," the King told his Queen one d~y. "She spends all her time locked up with t-h ose d us..ty old tome. It's not healthy, I tell you." Quietly the Queen agreed, and soon the peasants that lived about the castle became used to the sight of the 11t'tle 'princess with he·r skirts tucked up about her knees·, dangling her bare feet in a creek while reading a book and munching on an apple. Appealiilg to her daughter's now-found love of logic puzzles, the Queen also began sending her on strange .little errands. . . ·"Go find me something no orie..has ever seen be"ror~,:' she would ask one day. The littl~ princess .w ould smile, then frown, then walk out to saddle ·heT ·fa:vorite little ·horse. Most-of Hre ·da-y.-_wou-1-d be ·sp~rit riding aimlessly . about, trying to see . a solution to the problem. Sometime before dinner, the princess would return, dirty and disheveled to place the acorn in her mother's hand. "Open it," she would say and skip away to wash up and find out whether or not Meno discovered what virtue was. Much time passed smoothly in this fashion and the princess's stack of completed books became_ ·! taller and taller. But the line between her brows grew still deeper and she began to look at all the books lining the walls of the library with something akin to dismay. "Oh mother," she exclaimed finally, "'I feel myself to be floundering amidst all .this knowledge." Her mother raised an eyebrow at this rather ornate language but the distressed princess. never even noticed. "I have no anchor about which to build a secure fortress of understanding." The Queen glanced at the book her daughter clasped. It was Sophocles and her mother smiled. "Choose one thing, child," the Queen an swered. "One topic, one subject that you have seen addressed and wish to truly unders.tand. Then come to me and we shall set up a course of study so that you might come to know this one. thing. For in ·coming to know this one thing, you will pass 0 49 �I through a great many others and once you truly grasp this thing, all else will be made manifest through it." She patted her daughter's cheek. "Now go out and saddle you pony. I'll expect your answer at dinner." And so later, as she was carving the roast swan at the dinner table, the Queen looked expectantly at her daughter's glowing face. "Well?" she asked. "Oh mother," burst out the princes, "I want to understand what Love is." The Queen's face remained impassive, but her eyes twinkled. "Why daughter," she said evenly, "that is a fine thing to study. Most great authors have spent at least some time addressing the subject of Love." "Most of them?" the little princess inquired uncertainly. "How many does that mean?" Her little daughter looked so crestfallen that the Queen could not restrain the little laugh that escaped her. "Oh daughter, don't despair. You have chosen ·a very difficult thing indeed, and the road to true understanding is never an easy one." She looked kindly into her daughter's worried face. "But the rewards will be greater than you can imagine, and I will help you all I can." She placed a tender slice of swan on the princess's plate. "We will begin after dinner." And so it began. The princess studied Plato, Virgil, Ovid and Bacon. She read with wide eyes the Song of Solomon and wept and laughed in quick succession as Shakespeare acted out for her the comedies and tragedies of life. The poets were many and varied and she delved deeply into Donne, Byron, Valery, Browning, Coleridge and Gibran. And though she learned much of Love in all its manifestations, she could not say that she was growing towards an understanding of it. Much of the time she felt that she was actually doing the reverse. And so it was that we found her at the opening of our story: troubled and in doubt. She was just about to pick up the Maxims of La Rochefoucauld when there was knock at her door. With something that just might have been relief, she moved away from La Rochefoucauld to open the door. It was her mother. "Hello dear," she said as she moved easily into the room, ''I'm sorry to disturb you, but we have a visitor." The calm grace of her mother sent a cool wash over troubled spirit and the little princess smiled cheerfully. "Is it someone I know, mother?" she asked. "Oh yes," her mother replied with a smile. "It's your cousin Rolf. He's on vacation from the University and wants to spend some time with us before going back to finish his education." The llttle princess was delighted, for she hadn't seen Rolf for several years. He and his parents had often come to visit, and though he was some years older than she, he had treated her kindly and together they had many pleasant adventures. But he had been sent off to school and had become too busy and intelligent to visit with an old playmate. Until now. "Oh mother," she exclaimed, "Rolf! How is he? Did he learn lots at the University? Has he changed a great deal?" Her mother laughed. "We will all be having tea together on the porch in about an hour. He's in his ro om right now resting after his journey, so why don't you get ready and come to find out for yourself?" The Queen left to prepare the tea and there was a look of amused anticipation lurking in her eyes. The princess was setting a plate of cookies on the table when Rolf stepped out onto the porch. Both of the young people stared at the other in startled recognition, for though it had only been a few years since they had last seen one another, those had been very crucial years. Rolf had changed from a scrawny, self -consci ous teen-ager into a sturdy young man of admirable presence and bearing, while the princess, thanks to he r mother's subtle guidance, had grown from a reedy little scarecrow into a graceful young woman of considerable intelligence. And yet, some things remain constant. The princess still had a light spray of freckles across her nose and Rolf still had the habit, whenever he was unsure of himself, of pulling on the thick lock of hair that was forever tumbling in his eyes. When she saw him doing this, the princess laughed and he smiled as he walked over to give her a cousinly kiss on the cheek. When the Queen arrived with the teapot, she found them already deep in an animated discussion about Rolf's education. They were delighted to find that they had read and enjoyed a great many of the same books. The Queen sat silently and smiled as she watched the tea in their cups grow cold, untouched and forgotten in the rapid flood of conversation between the two young scholars. The princess told Rolf of her studies, and he agreed to help her with her search for understanding. From then on they spent nearly all their time together. He would read to her, or she to him as they sat over the remnants of a picnic lunch in a golden meadow. They would discuss salient points while trotting through the woods on horseback, ceasing only to race across the open spaces where the loser would come galloping up, laughing breathlessly and say: "but if we want to look at the love between a parent and child, what about Cordelia's speech in act one? ... " And in the evenings, sitting silently by the glowing fire, they would each underline relevant passages and hand them to the other, who would read it and nod gravely before returning to his own study. The Queen watched all this without comment, but nodded to herself as she observed the peculiar expression that came over Rolf's face whenever he looked at the princess and thought that he himself was unobserved. The princess was quite blind to such things, for she was totally absorbed in her studies. Learning on her own had been rewarding and satisfying, but studying with another, especially one as perceptive and sympathetic as Rolf, was a joy such as the princess had never before experienced. She was deliriously happy and was quite satisfied with things as they were. Not so Rolf. Finally it was nearly time for Rolf to return to school and he and the princess were up in her room getting in one last study before Rolf had to start preparing for his journey. He was standing stiffly at the window with his back towards the princess who was reading to him: '"It is the joy of the good, the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the gods; desired by those who have no part in him, and precious to those who have the better part in him."' But Rolf, what does Plato mean when he says ... Rolf! What are you doing?" For just as she looked up from the text, Rolf had turned around, snapped the book shu t and with one swift motion, flung it out the window. She stood up to protest, but just then Rolf turned to her and the look in his eyes stopped the words in her throat. Gently, but firmly, he grasped her hands and placed them together, palms upwards, like the leaves of an open book. "Here," he said,"here is one book you haven't read." And he traced his finger lightly across her palms as if he were outlining a passage. "Can you tell me what it says?" She opened her mouth, but shook her head mutely. "Then here," and he pressed one of her hands to his chest. She could feel his heart beating strongly and rapidly. Then he pressed her other hand to his cheek. It was warm and flushed with feeling. "Here is a book open only at your touch, only for your eyes," His voice lowered to a whisper,"Can you say the same to me?" and he released her. For a moment she clasped her hands together between the two of them and stared with wonder into his eyes. Then slowly, like a flower unfolding to the first touch of the sun, her arms opened to him and she began to understand just a little of what she had been studying so diligently for so long and she laughed a light, sweet, and joyful la ugh. Below, the King and the Queen were walking together in the royal rose garden, enjoying one of the last days of warmth, when a waterfall of books suddenly fell with great splashing into the moat, narrowly missing a pair of black swans swimming serenely by. The Queen was startled only for a moment and then she squeezed her husband's arm and laughed softly. For she had known all along that knowledge gleaned form books could carry one only so far, and that true understanding came from within. I guess this is the end of my story, though the princess continued to learn a great many important things. And like her mother before her, she managed to impart much of it to her children in such gentle and unobtrusive ways, that they didn't realize it themselves until many years had passed and they were well along in their own journeys towards understanding. But I can hardly be expected to trace the stories of all those many Ii ves. That, gen tie readers, I leave to you. 51 50 ! �52 �Non-Profit Org . BULK RATE U. S. POSTAGE St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland 21404 PAID PERMIT No. 120 ANNAPOLIS , MD. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Energeia</em> Description An account of the resource <em>Energeia</em> is a non-profit, student magazine, which is published once a year and distributed among students, faculty, alumni, and staff of St. John's College, Annapolis.  Staff welcome submissions from all members of the community -- essays, poems, stories, original math proofs, lab projects, drawings, and the like. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context energeia Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. 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Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Barndt, Carolyn (Editor-in-Chief) Rivera, Ray (Editor-in-Chief) Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1988 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Type The nature or genre of the resource text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Energeia Winter 1988 Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/ef22da382d3d7a8ad05751b558a24454.pdf c78473eefd3d319daef55c117df90116 PDF Text Text WINTER, 1990 L �ENERGEIA: The activity in which anything is fully itself. Ei 8' Ecr'tlU Ti EU8mµouia Kat' apE'tTJU fotpyEta, EUAOyou Km:a tilu KpaticrtT]U" UU'tT] 8' liu ElT] WU apicrtou. Aristotle Nicomachean Ethics X vii Conrad Baugh, Rachel Boyce, Molly Hinshaw, Sharman Levinson, Greg Little, Thomas Madden, Tim Maher, Ange Mlinko, Vanessa Stratton, Shannon Wardell Staff Rachel Boyce Special Thanks, Editing Anne Carpenter, Ray Rivera Assistant Editors Carolyn Barndt, Akiba Covitz Editors-in-Chief Cover: Bajii Vala Rakesh Brennig ('93) Printed by the St. John's College Press St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland Joe Boucher Alumnus Contributing Editor Henry Higuera Faculty Consultant Best Impressions Typesetting & Layout Chris Colby Special Thanks, Production David Murchake, Don Murchake Special Thanks, Production and Composition Energeia is a non-profit, student magazine which is published two times a year and distributed among the students, faculty, alumni, and staff of St. John's College, Annapolis and Santa Fe. Energeia welcomes submissions from all members of the community - essays, poems, stories, original math proofs, laboratory projects, drawings, and the like . �Contents 5 What the ... ? Postulates of Pure Reason? Walter Plourde ('89) 24 Untitled (Photograph) Rakesh Brennig ('93) Senior Prize Winning Essay 1989 2S The Contradictions of Empiricism Craig Thomas ('90) 13 Untitled (Photograph) Scouse ('93) 14 Wedding Ange Mlinko ('91) 15 On the Theaetetus Rachel Boyce ('90) Freshman Prize-Winning Essay 1987 18 Untitled (Photograph) Rakesh Brennig ('93) 19 Pre-Cadent Membrance Anonymous 20 Werner (Photograph) Tara Beall ('92) 21 Some Thoughts on Warmth, Heat, and Temperature Bryan Dorland ('92) Junior Prize-Winning Essay 1989 30 Camel Ride Ange Mlinko ('91) 31 The Poet (woodcut) S.J. Ahn ('90) 32 What is Philosophy? Eva Brann 36 The Philosopher (woodcut) S.]. Ahn ('90) 37 Gubbio' s Festa dei Ceri William Ney (GI '82) 48 Now Is Less Absolute Than You Think Carolyn Barndt ('90) Prize-winning Poem 1989 �What the ... ? Postulates of Pure Reason? Walter L. Plourde ('89) In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness covered the abyss, while a mighty wind swept over the waters. Then God said, "Let there be light,' and there was light. -Genesis: 1, 1-3 You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Men do not light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket. They set it on a stand where it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, your light must shine before men so that they may see goodness in your acts and give praise to your heavenly Father. -Matthew: 5, 14-16 Jesus spoke to them once again: I am the light of the world. No follow er of mine shall ever walk in darkness; no, he shall possess the light of life. - John: 8, 12 I. INTRODUCTION Einstein in his paper On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies gives the following two postulates: 1. The laws by which states of physical systems undergo change are not affected, whether their changes of state be referred to the one or the other of two systems of coordinates in uniform translatory motion. 2. Any ray of light moves in the 'stationary' system of coordinates with the determined velocity c, whether the ray be emitted by a stationary or by a moving body . (p. 41 *) I shall examine these postulates with respect to the transcendental philosophy of Kant's Critique of Pure Reason, or the question arises as to whether these postulates have a priori validity. I will show that, grounded in Kant's Critique, both postulates are valid; and further that both postulates- individually and together-have a definite and vital epistemological significance . *Pagination for the Einstein paper is from the collection of papers entitled The Principle of Relativity. Specifically, I will show that the first postulatethe now famous Principle of Relativity-is only a scientific restatement of Kant's principle of the synthetic unity of the manifold of intuititon in apperception- the "highest principle of understanding." By a simple translation the similarity of these two principles is strikingly obvious, but I shall go into some detail in order that the epistemological aspects of Einstein's principle may be better shown. Secondly, I shall examine the epistemological aspects of Einstein's second postulate. fo particular I will show that the second postulate fills a great need in Kant's Critique-that of fleshing out the faculty of receptivity, which Kant apparently thought inappropriate or unnecessary to do-and further, that the concept of a limiting value, c, may be understood as a postulate of Pure Reason. That is, the concept is a condition independent of any particular object for knowledge of objects. Such a condition, though, may seem to be a movement away from the fundamental principles of Kant' s theory of knowledge . So it is . Thus, the reader must keep in mind that many of the positions and assumptions in the early parts of this paper-positions and assumptions taken simply as Kant gives them-are taken only provisionally. II. THE PRINCIPLE OF RELATIVITY. Kant begins his description of knowledge in general with the distinction between sensibility and understanding: The manifold of representations can be give n in an intuition which is purely sensible, that is, nothing but receptivity ... But the combination (conjunction) of a manifold in general can never come to us through the senses, and cannot, therefore, be already contained in the pure form of sensible intuition . For it is an act of spontaneity of the faculty of representations; and since this faculty, to distinguish it from sensibility, must be entitled understanding, all combination-be we 5 �conscious of it or not, be it a combination of the manifold of intuition, empirical or non-empirical, or of various conceptsis an act of the understanding . (B129-B130*) This distinction between sensibility and understanding is founded on one of Kant's assumptions about our experience: that things in themselves are in no way given to us, but what is given are things as appearances only. From this radical distinction between sensibility and understanding, it follows that any perception of even the simplest object-this page, for example~is ~oss.ibl: only upon the assumption of an act of co.mb~nat~?n m 1m~g!~ nation. Kant entitles this act of combmabon synthesis, as ''indicating that we cannot represent to ourselves anything as combined in the object which we have not ourselves previously combined. " . . . That is all to say, direct perception of objects m consciousness is not possible, a claim which we shall examine in more detail later (Section III). It suffices now to say that what Kant means by all this is that the data of intuition-whatever they might be-must be gathered together, synthesized, to form the perception of an ject. It is as if each moment of existence wer~ a frame m a film, with sensibility as the camera, and with the synthetic faculty, that is, the understanding, the director capturing each scene. . . But this director is no random or capnc1ous creature; rather, as Kant demonstrates, the understanding must be a faculty of rules, for the play of appearances before me keeps to an orderly progression. Order is only possible on the condition of rules of synthe~is, because appearances are "products" of t~e connec.tmg process. These rules are, of course, Kant s categories. This way of understanding the categories, si.n ce it is founded on a feeling of orderliness in actual experience, is merely empirical. While indicating the. basis of !<a~t' s argument in the common sense of experience, this kmd of exposition is not sufficient for Kant's purpose. The p~r­ pose of Kant's transcendental deduction of the ~atego~1e~ is to derive the necessity of the rules of synthesis a prwri, independently of any particular experien~e. . Kant's transcendental deduction has its foundation in the unity of the ''I think'', that is, the unit~ of thou~ht in one self-consciousness, or, as Kant calls 1t, the umty of apperception. As Kant describes it : o?- It must be possible for the 'I think ' to accompany all my representations; for otherwise something would be r:pres~nt­ ed in me which could not be thought at all, and that is eqmvalent to saying that the representation would be impossible, or at least would be n othing to m e. (B131-Bl32) In its simplicity, this statement seems to sum up selfconsciousness, inasmuch as a thing not thought by me *Wherever possible p agination for the Critique is taken from the. second edition-"B" pages. Where the passage is found only m the first edition, it will be so indicated with the A" p ages . /1 6 is certainly a thing I do not think. However, this self-consciousness, if it is to be the foundation of all thought in general, cannot be the vague feeling of "I" that accompanies any particular representation. As Kant puts it: Consciousness of self according to the determinations of our state in inner perception is merely empirical,. and ~lwa~s changing. No fixed and abiding self can present itself m this flux of inner appearance. (Al07) Thus what Kant means by the "I think" is a transcendent~! unity of apperception: a self-conscious~ess wit~ respect to no particular representation, .and a u~ity to this consciousness that is transcendental m that 1t grounds the very possibility of a thought being mine. And Kant moves to knowledge from selfconsciousness: But as self-consciousness is a transcendental representation,. numerical identity is inseparable from it, and is a priori certair:. .. Now, since this identity must necessarily enter the sy~t~esis of all the manifold of appearances, so far as the synthesis is. t~ yield empirical knowledge, the ap~arance~ are subject ~o a pnon conditions, with which the synthesis of therr apprehens101_1 must be in complete accordance. The rep.resent~tion of a urnve:sal condition according to which a certam manifold c~n be posited in a uniform fashion is called a rule, and, when it must be so posited, a law. (Al13) That is all to say, in Kant's way of looking at things, that nature (taken here as the whole of appearances) is lawful because we make it so, that the synthetic faculty lays rules upon the manifold. And further, when w~ "discover" a law of nature, we in fact discover a umversal condition of our own synthesis in an empirical employment. Or rather, we discover the manner in which our own categories and principles are employed in ordering the manifold of intuition into a whole, a unity in selfconsciousness. And when this ordering is given as necessary, admitting of no deviation, the principle is called a law; a~~ wh en this principle applies to experience, to the empmcal, a law of nature (e.g. the law of universal gravitation). This last limitation placed on any principle is really quite superfluous in Kant's system. Kant makes a sharp distinction between phenomena and noumena. We cannot stress strongly enough that the sharpness of Kant's distinction is here simply accepted, but that as our discussion progresses this distinction will be severely strained. We must constantly keep in mind and be aware of this: Kant's transcendental arguments are all based on the assumption that things in themselves are in no way known by us. This assumption is the unstated premise of the transcendental deduction, and Kant simply assumes that there is no ontological "grey area" between things in themselves and things as appearance~ . His whole theory of knowledge is founded on this assumption. Now, one may disagree with, nay, may harshly criticize Kant's phenomena/noumena distinction; but we need give no heed to such criticism here. So far as we are concerned-indeed, so far as we are willing to go along with Kant's method-Kant's categories have employment at least with respect to the empirical. That is to say, the laws of nature must, one and all, relate to possible experience. We are now in a position to make the transition from Kant's transcendental philosophy to Einstein's Principle of Relativity. We may now translate Kant into Einstein, or vice versa . Since, as we have just seen, the synthetic unity of the manifold in apperception is represented by the laws of nature, all laws of nature must refer to the unity of self-consciousness. That is, the laws of nature must present nature as a unity, corresponding to the unity of consciousness . But nature is here taken as the whole of appearances, and thus, the manifold synthesized in accordance with a law of nature is not the manifold of particular intuitions, but the manifold of disparate experiences. In other words, the law of a determinate phenomenon is the synthetic principle presenting all the experiences of the phenomenon as a unity to consciousness. And further, if the synthesis is to have the necessity of a law, the law must present all the possible experiences of the phenomenon as a unity . That is all to say, a law of nature is such only insofar as it is true for every possible experience of the given phenomenon. And in particular, any "asymmetries" such as those in Maxwell's electrodynamics that interested Einstein-are incompatible with a law of nature, if it is to be a law. Furthermore, in keeping with the mathematical basis of science, the expression "possible experience" may also be translated. Since every appearance may be given in relation to a mathematical coordinate-axis system, and since different views of the appearance may be expressed by changing the axes, a possible experience is any such coordinate-axis system. Thus, understanding that a law of nature is a principle of the synthetic unity of the manifold and that a possible experience is a coordinate system, we see that the relationship between Kant's and Einstein's principles is rather evident .* Roughly paraphrased: "The laws of nature are true for every coordinate system'' means ''The principles of the synthetic unity of the manifold must relate to the the possible experience of the manifold ." Thus far, then, we see that Einstein's Principle of Relativity is a p rinciple by which all other laws of nature may be judged. That is, a law for a given phenomenon is such only if it is valid for every possible experience of *That Eins tein s peaks of "systems of coordinates in uniform translatory motion" poses no further difficulty, for a coordinate system in motion is still a " possible experience ." Thus, a law of nature must be valid for such a system . the phenomenon, and this principle derives its validity from the necessary unity of nature in self-consciousness. But now we turn our attention to Einstein's second postulate. Notice that Einstein uses this postulate in such a way that the undesireable asymmetries of Maxwell's equations are nullified. That is, by means of the spacetime transformations based on the constancy of the speed of light. Maxwell's equations are made to yield a unity to the manifold. It is as if the constancy of the speed of light is a condition for the unity of the manifold. On the other hand, though, we notice no such constant arises in Kant's exposition of the synthetic unity of the manifold.* For Kant the unity of the manifold comes about by means of, or rather, as a result of the synthetic faculty through principles, or concepts. And concepts alone. This difference between Kant's and Einstein's methods is of great importance for our discussion, inasmuch as both Einstein and Kant have the same goalsynthetic unity of the manifold. Thus, our understanding of relativity with respect to knowledge in general will turn on our understanding this difference between Einstein and Kant. Therefore, before we turn our full attention to Einstein, we need to examine the extent to which concepts can provide the unity that we call nature. *This statement is, unfortunately, not complete, and for that reason lacks complete accuracy . What this statement lacks may only be a red herring (like any red herring, though, it adds intrigue to the plot), so we will only touch on it briefly . When Kant turns his attention to determinate objects, to science itself, in his Metaphysical Foundation s of Natural Science, it turns out that ' 'Absolute space" is necessary as a concept . Its presence is most notable when Kant deals with the addition of velocities, wherein he proves the following proposition: "The composition of two motions of one and the same point can only be thought of by one of them being represented in absolute space, but instead of the second motion being so represented, a motion of the relative space in the opposite direction and with the same velocity is re presented as being identical with the first motion. " (AK 490 : Kant here is only dealing with the composition of equal velocities .) One may take this concept of absolute space to be a " constant " or condition of the synthetic unity of the manifold-at least in thought-but as this concept possesses a character totally different from Einstein' s second postulate, we need not treat of it here . However, this intriguing question arises : Why does Kant find such a concept necessary, since absolute space is a conce pt that admits of no possible experience? Kant is quite adamant about that in the Critique. But since the scope of this paper doesn ' t allow a full treatment of this question, I will say only that the arguments following on the faculty of receptivity, if taken further than in this paper, may allow an answer to this question . Further of note : the concept of absolute space and that of the ether, which Kant adopts as an h ypothesis later in the Metaph ysical Foundations, both prove to be unnecessary in Eins tein 's theory of re lativity. 7 �III. THE FACULTY OF RECEPTIVITY. We have seen so far that Kant's system for the unity of nature in concepts is founded on a clear distinction between the faculty of receptivity-wherein the data of intuition are received-and the faculty of spontaneitywherein these data are gathered together into appearances, and, indeed, gathered together in the unity of nature-but is this distinction valid? If not, then the synthetic unity of the manifold by means of concepts alone becomes a questionable proposition. The limitations and difficulties of this distinction-at least in Kant's system-are best seen in his refutation of Idealism, wherein the question of receptivity becomes this: Is there anything in any of my representations that necessarily indicates that objects exist outside of me? Idealism holds that any answer to this question is only problematic; Kant's thesis against this position begins like this: The mere, but empirically determined, consciousness of my own existence proves the existence of objects in space outside me. (B275) Kant's proof of this thesis is based on the concept of the permanent; it is only by means of the permanent in perception that time determinations may be made, including the time determination of empirical selfconsciousness. (Empirical self-consciousness is here to be distinguished from the "transcendental unity of selfconsciousness" which is the logical function that subsumes all empirical determinations of self.) Kant goes on: This permanent cannot, however, be something in me, since it is only through this permanent that my existence in time can itself be determined. (B275) And Kant modifies this statement in the preface to B: But this permanent cannot be an intuition in me, for all grounds of determination of my existence which are to be met with in me are representations; and as representations themselves require a permanent distinct from them, in relation to which their change, and so my existence wherein they change, may be determined . (B xl, note) Kant's argument-and yet it still seems to lack, for this argument rests squarely on the distinction between the faculty of spontaneity and that of receptivity. The permanent as a synthetic principle of time-determination (the first analogy of experience, B224f) requires that one have data of intuition to work on; and requires that, if this permanent is to yield representations of objects as existent outside one's own consciousness, the data must be received. That is, it must come from outside, and not be generated in one's consciousness. 8 In other words, Kant is trying to prove that one's sense of "outsideness" to the world is not an illusion, and yet, he tries to do this by means of representations which are one and all subjective. Beyond the feeling of "outsideness" to our representations, the only certainty is that they are at least subjective. But are they really more? Kant feels confident that he has proved they are. In the footnote to B277 he says: The immediate consciousness of the existence of outer things is, in the preceeding thesis [the refutation of Idealism], not presupposed, but proved, be the possibility of this consciousness understood by us or not ." Consider this sentence in relation to the whole of the Critique; Kant's method is to take the world just as we experience it and, by means of the transcendental argument, to demonstrate the possibility and conditions under which the world is just as we say it is. And one of the basic experiences is this consciousness of an outside world. Thus, understanding the possibility of cons~ ciousness of the outside world must play an important part in the theory of knowledge, if that theory is to demonstrate the validity of our knowledge. Now, Kant concludes this footnote about the possibility of immediate consciousness of the existence of outer things: The question as to its possibility would be this: whether we have an inner sense only, and no outer sense, but merely an outer imagination. It is clear, however, that in order even only to imagine something as outer, that is to present it to sense in intuition, we must already have an outer sense, and must thereby immediately distinguish the mere receptivity of an outer intuition from the spontaneity which characterises every act of imagination. For should we merely be imagining an outer sense, the faculty of intuition, which is to be determined by the faculty of imagination, would be itself annulled. " Kant is quite correct, as far as he goes; if our imagination produces not only the form of intuitions, but also the content of them as outer, then surely those intuitions would be presented to consciousness as outer. And thus we would have an outer sense-but in thought only, merely as another subjective representation. One could hold this position that both the form and the content of all experience are only so many states of consciousness, but what follows from this position, as Kant says, is that the faculty of intuition is annulled. If the intuition is annulled, then the outside world and the objective validity of any knowledge of it become, at best, problematic. That is, the assertion that such-and-such concept is true-even with the condition that it applies to appearances only, which, in a purely subjective world, includes the "appearance" of an outer sense-loses most of its meaning. Thus, Kant's argument ends where it began; if there is to be intuition, there must be objects, but, of course, there may be neither. The beginning from the subjective representation of the permanent in appearance fails to go beyond itself to any kind of objectivity. In the refutation of Idealism, however, Kant leaves a clue to a possible resolution of the problem: time. Time is the link between my existence as 'consciousness and the outside world. Time is the form of both inner and outer intuition, but it is not so much the mere form of time that is our clue; it is the "content" of time, timedetermination. If we can define a way of identifying the validity of time-determination distinct from appearances-which are one and all subjective representations-then it would be possible to assert that time-determination is not wholly subjective. If there is a way of establishing that timedetermination in the appearances is not merely a creation of my own consciousness in its representations, that would indicate that indeed something is received, that my sense of "outsideness" is no chimera. But how could this work? Let us consider: the modes of time-determination, as Kant gives them in the general principle of the analogies of experience (B219), are duration, succession and co-existence. As an analogy, the concept that an object endures through all change, or that one object follows another, or that one is simultaneous with another is only a synthetic principle; and no fault is found in these principles, for these are just what we say about actual time determinations . But let us consider these principles in actual experience, for, as Kant says, "There can be no doubt that all our knowledge begins with experience." (Bl) The law of the permanent in appearance is given from experience as the law of the conservation of matter (or energy); but this law is derived from the successive changes in appearance, since that which endures is known only if it endures through change . Laws of change-cause and effect-however are known only through time determinations of succession; but time determinations are possible only in the permanent. In practice this little circle poses no difficulty, but in the theory of knowledge it poses grave difficulties. On the one hand, taking the permanent as fundamental, one must assert that the permanent in appearance is directly perceived, so that time-determination is made valid. But direct perception is the foundation of the arguments of Idealism, for with a direct perception it is not possible to know whether the object is perceived exactly as it is, only as self-consciousness wants it to be, or what. If one accepts direct perception, then one cannot forestall the arguments of the Idealists . On the other hand, taking changes in appearance as fundamental, one must give a condition of appearance- different from a perceived permanent in the appearances-that validates time determinations of succession, or for that matter, simultaneity-the other "object" in a science of time-for succession may be given in a formal science of time as merely the negation of simultaneity. Such a condition of time-determination, if it is given as truly distinct from the appearances, would clearly indicate that the ''time'' of the appearances is dis- tinct from any of our representations. This is not to say that time is a thing in the objects; we do not want to admit things in themselves. But this condition is meant to indicate that the placing of objects in time-the content of the synthetic process-is not wholly a product of one's own consciousness. Or again, this condition indicates only that, while the form of appearance is wholly subjective, the relations of the form are not wholly subjective; the Other, the outside, is required. As we shall see next, Einstein's second postulate fulfills the requirements for such a condition. IV. c. The time of an event is that which is given simultaneously with the event by a stationary clock located at the place of the event, this clock being synchronous, and indeed synchronous for all time determinations, with a specified stationary clock. (p.40) So Einstein says in his paper On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies. Einstein is interested in empirical events, so he speaks of clocks. The clocks themselves are unimportant to us. In Kant's terms, a clock is merely an empirical representation of the pure form of intuition, namely, time. As he puts it: [Time] cannot be a determination of outer appearances; it has to do neither with shape nor with position, but with the relation of representations in our inner state, and just because this inner intuition yields no shape, we endeavor to make up for this want by analogies . We represent the time-sequence by a line progressing to infinity, in which the manifold constitutes a series of one dimension only. (B49-B50) Or we make up for this want by representing the timesequence in the hands of an analog clock (thus the name), or the numbers on a digital clock-both of which are much more practical than a line drawn to infinity. Thus, clocks present no conceptual difficulty; however, the synchronism of the clocks does. First of all, Einstein makes this statement: We have to take into account that all our judgements in which time plays a part are always judgements of simultaneous events. If, for instance, I say, 'That train arrives here at 7 o'clock,' I mean something like this : 'The pointing of the small hand of my watch to 7 and the arrival of the train are simultaneous events.' (p .39) We will make two comments on this. First, we must recognize that what Einstein means by "judgements of simultaneous events" is just what Kant is trying to define in his schematism (for that matter, in all of the Critique) . The schemata are the formal principles of experience; judgements are simply statements about this experience. And all judgements are true only so far as they represent this experience; that is, only so far as the knowledge that the judgement is meant to 9 �express conforms to the object, or phenomenon. This relationship between judgements and formal principles of experience is what justifies Kant's taking the table of judgements as the "clue" to the table of categories, and thus, for Kant the judgement is valid only when it is in conformance with the schemata, the "forms" of experience. Since the schemata are all principles of determinations of experience in respect of the time-sequence, whatever can be known about an object-and, of course, any valid judgement about an object-will come by means of the connections of the time determinations of the object in experience. Simultaneity being the "object" of time-determination, Einstein's statement is seen to be valid; in fact, the way Kant looks at things, this is the only valid thing to be said. Second, we must again be clear about Einstein 's discussion of actual time-pieces . The time-pieces, themselves, are only tools, objective representations of the time-sequence; and further, they are here employed as mere representations of the determination of time. That is, the clock gives evidence of simultaneity, but in itself does not give the time of the simultaneous events. Another way of expressing this would be to say that one could represent the arrival of Einstein's train as simultaneous with any phenomenon, for example, the explosion of a firecracker; and no one would say that "explosion o'clock" gives the time of the train' s arrival. Next, Einstein goes further into the difficulty inherent in clock time. Einstein says: It might appear possible to overcome all the difficulties attending the definition of 'time' by substituting 'the position of the small hand of my watch' for 'time.' And in fact such a definition is satisfactory when we are concerned with defining a time exclusively for the place where the watch is located; but it is no longer satisfactory when we have to connect in time series of events occurring at different places1 or-what comes to the same thing- to evaluate the times of events occurring at places remote from the watch. (p.39) This is key to our discussion of Einstein and our way of looking at relativity. Specially important is Einstein's comment about connecting events in time. The word ''connect'' is very suggestive after we have examined Kant's Critique. To connect events in time means nothing other than to synthesize events in time, to synthesize the manifold . In Kant's system, the synthesis of the manifold is the job of the understanding through the principles represented by the categories. As we discussed earlier, however, there is a difficulty in establishing that the relation of objects in time represents anything more than the subjectivity of synthesis in consciousness. Einstein is addressing this difficulty by discussing what it means to define a time, what it means to actually place an object in time. Specifically, he is talking about what it means to prove that an object has been placed in time in a valid relation to other objects. He is talking about evidence of "time" in appearances. 10 Thus, when Einstein speaks of a time for an event at place A and that for an event at B (p .39), he recognizes that there is no necessary connection between the times . If the times were immediately connected, then it must be that the "time" of the two events is somehow immediately perceived in the events. This much we have already disallowed, as it tends toward Idealism. Therefore, with no necessary connection between the times, no synthetic principle may be adduced about the events at A and B. That is, since synthetic principles of events-e .g. that A causes B-are one and all principles of time-determination, and since no timedetermination may be made until the relationship between the two times has been established, any law of A and B remains problematic . Einstein's solution of this problem is founded on his second postulate : We have so far defined an 'A time ' and a 'B time .' We have not defined a common 'time' for A and B, for the latter cannot be defined at all unless we establish by definition that the 'time' required by light to travel from A to B equals the 'time' it re~ quires to travel from B to A. (p.40) A nice prosaic way to understand this definition of time, indeed, to demonstrate the difficulty of defining time is this: place one clock in the attic and another in the basement. The question is," Are they reading the same time, are they determining the same time?" Of course, the way to find out is to go upstairs, note the time, turn around, retreat to the basement, and note the time there . We are at first surprised that the two clocks don' t read the same time, because we cheated and had set them to the same time in the kitchen before we started. Now, if we were machines or were feeling rather obtuse on the day of the experiment, we could run back and forth between the basement and the attic until the clocks matched, or until we dropped from exhaustion. The latter would be, of course, the most likely result of this experiment, because it obviously takes "time" to run up the stairs and "time" to run down the stairs. Furthermore, if it takes more time to run up the stairs than down-as seems very likely-then we could never tell if the two clocks were giving the same time. That is, we could run from attic to basement, keeping note of the time interval of the run as given by the two clocks, but if the velocity of ascent were different from that of descent, upon returning to the attic, we would find the time interval different . We might conclude from this that the clocks were not synchronous. But that would be absurd! For this conclusion assumes that the clocks were synchronous when we ran dow nstairs- an d thus that the taking of a time interval could provide useful informationbut then they weren't synchronous when we went back upstairs. In fact-forgetting for the moment that we cheated and set them in the kitchen-whether we determine that the clocks are synchronous or not, we can never be sure what the real cause of that determination is- maybe the clocks are really synchronous, or not; maybe the ve- locity upstairs and downstairs is the same, or not; maybe a combination of both. Or not. By now we're pretty tired of running up and down all those stairs, but if we assume that our velocity up the stairs is the same as that down-if we assume that we are propagated always with the same velocity- then this little experiment yields positive results in about thirty seconds. This experiment works in the same way if we let light be our messenger, and thus, only upon the assumption of the constancy of the speed of light is a time established for a "stationary system", wherein the time for all events may be established. Furthermore, as is quite clear in Einstein's paper, the constancy of the speed of light is also the factor that allows one to relate the times of events experienced in systems in motion to the time of the stationary system. That is, Einstein's second postulate provides the factor that establishes the validity of all time-determination . Of course, many propositions follow from Einstein's method of establishing time-determination, but what concerns us here is simply the phrase ''by definition" in Einstein's definition of time . The status of the constant speed of light as a postulate means a great deal to the theory of knowledge. As we discussed in the previous section, Kant's system lacked a way of establishing the validity of synthetic principles. The proposed solution to this problem was that a condition of time-determination be given; Einstein's second postulate seems to provide such a condition. However, one requirement in order for this postulate to be the condition of time-determination is that it be given as distinct from the appearances wherein the time determination is made, for only in this way would the validity of time-determination be established as distinct from the consciousness of the subject. Thus, we must determine whether Einstein's postulate fulfills this requirement. Consider this statement by Einstein: The th eory to be de veloped is based-like all electrodynamics-on the kinematics of the rigid body, since the assertions of any such theory have to do with the relationships betw een rigid bodies (systems of coordinates), clocks, and electromagnetic processes. (p.38) In this statement Einstein is quite explicit about what the phenomena in question are. And as far as we are 'concerned, we need not worry about the electromagnetic phenomena, since with respect to the condition of timedetermination the only phenomena are rigid bodies and clocks . Notice, th ou gh, that w hen we consider the appearances of rigid bodies and clocks, neither of these present themselves as indicating that special property of light, i.e. that the velocity of the light remains the same no matter what the condition of the body from which it is propagated . Indeed, such a concept goes against common experience, which tells us that the velocity of an object emanating from a moving system is conditioned by the motion of the system. Or again, the speed of light is postulated as unconditioned, but the unconditioned is never given in appearances . To be blunt: Einstein's second postulate doesn't make any "sense", and that's the beauty of it. The usual assumption is that what makes "sense" is correct. Usually that is true, but if Einstein's postulate made sense it would be of no use to us. Why? because in a system that employs subjective principles of synthesis to represent appearances and to connect those representations, what makes sense in appearances is that which we have placed in them ourselves. What doesn't make sense indicates that which we have not, ourselves, placed in appearances . Thus, Einstein's second postulate is a condition of time-determination that is distinct from the appearances wherein time-determination is made. This is what we wanted. Finally, let us consider what all this means about knowledge . What does a condition of time-determination indicate about knowledge in general? As we saw earlier, Einstein's Principle of Relativity and Kant's highest principle of understanding-the synthetic unity of the manifold in apperception-amount to the same thing, indicating, surely, that the goal of both is the same. This goal is the unity of nature in consciousness, which is only possible if the synthetic principles of consciousness have that property of unity . Einstein provides for the synthetic unity of nature- that is, he nullifies the asymmetries of Maxwell's equations, shows the validity of the composition of velocities, and demonstrates the law of the permanent, the law of the conversation of mass-energy-by means a condition of time-determination. But inasmuch as a condition of time-determination grounds the unity of nature, it grounds the possibility of preesenting nature to consciousness in such a way that it makes sense. In other words, by connecting nature together by means of his two postulates, by connecting these two postulates together, Einstein is saying : "I cannot present nature as making sense in a rational way, unless I present a postulate differing from the rest of nature, all of which is understood relatively .' ' And this indicates one thing : Einstein's second postulate is a correlate in pure reason of Kant's postulates of practical reason, namely, God, freedom and immortality. Strange as this may be, we cannot avoid this conclusion . The postulates of practical reason are provided so that morality, the moral laws, may be presented as making sense, as being rational; and, clearly, Einstein provides his postulate of pure reason so that the obj ect of pure reason, nature, may be presented as rational, as conforming to the highest principle of understanding. But if Einstein's second postulate is a postulate of pure reason, what becomes of the highest principle of understanding, the Principle of Relativity? The indications are that this principle, too, has a parallel in practical reason . The Principle of Relativity appears to be a physical 11 �imperative, so called to correspond to a moral imperative. An imperative, though, is given in such a way that the phenomenon (in a moral world, the action) follows on the concept as on a cause. To a certain extent, Kant's highest principle of understanding is an imperative, inasmuch as the categories produce the unity of nature in consciousness. But in Kant's system the unity of nature is founded on the unity of the ''I think'', and is in no way related to the content of intuitions, or sensibility, for that would indicate that there were things in themselves which, at least in a limited way, could be known by us. Einstein's second postulate, his condition of timedetermination, does indeed return the status of things in themselves to the appearances, but only in a limited way. A condition of time-determination is given as separate from the appearances, as a datum not in the appearances. But, since the laws of nature must conform to this condition, Einstein's method indicated that knowledge does consist of concepts conforming to objects. On the other hand, the relativity of space and time-although founded on the condition of timedetermination-demonstrates that objects are appearances only. If things in themselves were given to us, then the space and time wherein they exist would have objective reality. Einstein clearly demonstrates that this is not the case, since the space and time of all objects is conditioned by the frame of reference of the subject. And, since all objects must conform to the relativity of space and time, Einstein's method also indicated that knowledge consists of objects conforming to concepts. Thus, Einstein's method, since it indicated both of the opposed positions-things in themselves and things as appearances-lays out a dialectical middle ground wherein the question of knowledge is neither "How do concepts conform to objects?" nor, "How do objects conform to concepts?'' The theory of knowledge must address this question: How much do objects conform to concepts and how much do concepts conform to objects? late of pure reason, then shouldn't there be two others conforming to two other moments of thought? To give these other postulates is not possible here, but to determine the moments of thought that these postulates must belong to, it is only necessary to consider the frame of reference of special relativity. Special relativity deals with frames of reference in uniform translatory motion. The "opposite" motion to this is uniformly accelerated motion. And the combination of these two is surely wave motion, since a wave is an accelerated system in translatory motion. General relativity, clearly enough, is the science of systems of uniformly accelerated motion; and quantum mechanics, at least as given in Schrodinger' s wave equations, appears to be the science of systems of wave motion. One might say the postulates of these two systems are, respectively, that gravitational potential conditions curvature of space-time and that energy comes in discrete quanta; but these are not very clear in the way that the postulate of special relativity is, nor do they exhibit any · clear connection among the three systems . One thing becomes clear, though, upon consideration of the science of quantum mechanics. As Heisenberg lays it out in his paper on the uncertainty principle, there is a difficulty in the imperative of science that Einstein gives. Since Heisenberg shows a dichotomy between giving the space-time of objects and connecting the objects in causal relations, perhaps the principle that the laws of nature should yield a unity to nature in consciousness is not really valid, or even possible. Thus, the direction of the theory of knowledge seems to be a forked road: one path to establish a valid imperative-whether it be the Principle of Relativity of something else-and the other to give the number and nature of the postulates necessary to present nature to consciousness in accordance with that imperative. V. POSTSCRIPT: POSTULATES OF PURE REASON. I think it appropriate to end this paper with a question. Knowledge is always a question, and answers are boring. But I want to give a direction, at least, to the question of knowledge, and the preceeding speculations are quite suggestive of that direction, especially with respect to natural science. When I consider postulates of pure reason, I cannot help but consider the moments of thought as given in Kant's categories. I am always presented in each category with two extremes and a third moment which is a synthesis of these two-for example, in the category of quantity, the moments are unity, plurality, and then totality. Kant presents the postulates of practical reason as if they conformed to the moments of thought in the categories. Thus, if Einstein's second postulate is a postu- 12 I �Wedding On The Theaetetus Ange Mlinko ('91) Rachel Boyce ('90) The bridled gelding is hooked to its trap, Grazing the widow's weeds that line the lot Between the church and cemetery. In the restaurant window I stock and set The salt and pepper shakers, apiece Each bride and groom by the sugar packets. What for, what for, what for? I beg the horse, full of dolor. First young, then courted, then feted; Dosed with your sugar pill, honeymoonA hard pillow, the moon, once you have itWhat then, what then, what then? Ground and scattered, both of you cured Pat, in a vat of tears, all that's incurred Between the church and cemetery. At the top of the flight, they emerge: She stands, mouth frilled, stiff as baker's icing. One finger is stiffer than all the rest With the prize of a black coal mine. She walks as though salt had been tossed On her plait, a kind of confetti, And though legends are leery of cutlery, Fork by knife, husband and wife, Her face is stainless, shallow as teaspoons, Her table set for a miracle. 14 Socrates' interest in Athenian youths ''thought likely to distinguish themselves"(143d) is not casual. In the Republic, he describes the nature of the true philosopher and the many dangers of corruption that youths of philosophical nature must face. He also describes the proper course of studies for such youths. In the Theaetetus, we see Socrates put his concern for potential philosophers into practice. Socrates searches out a promising student, Theaetetus, and, drawing him into a dialogue, attempts to discover whether his nature is that of the philosopher and to help him along in his training. Theaetetus receives a remarkable commendation of his abilities from his teacher, Theodorus. Theodorus says that he has a ''combination of a rare quickness of intelligence with exceptional gentleness" plus "an incomparably virile spirit" (144a). Additionally, "his approach to learning and inquiry, with the perfect quietness of its smooth and sure progress, is like the noiseless flow of a stream of oil"(144b). Theaetetus shows himself to possess "a certain keeness for study" and "a good memory and doggedness and industry in every sense of the word'' (Republic, 535b-c) which he will need to pursue the philospher's studies. He must also possess the trueborn nature of the philosopher, who loves the labors of both body and mind, is angered at voluntary lies and distressed by ignorance, and discriminates ''with reference to sobriety ... and bravery, and loftiness of soul and all the parts of virtue" (536a). A subtle indication that Theatetus has this nature is that the first definite thing Theodorus mentions about Theaetetus is his resemblance to Socrates. The likeness between Socrates as an old man and Theaetetus as a young man must be striking for a geometer to recognize it. It seems that the likeness might go deeper than mere physical appearance. Theaetetus confirms the reported quality of his abilities with his descrip tion of his approach and solution to the problem of finding common terms for all roots. He does not progress nearly so smoothly in the dialogue, though one would expect a trueborn philosopher to take to it almost immediately. Theaetetus has difficulty understanding many of Socrates' speeches and does not recognize most of Socrates' bogus arguments. Socrates, however, does not give up on Theaetetus, but tells him that "those who frequent my company at first appear, some of them, quite unintelligent"(150d). Theaetetus' difficulties are not due to any inadequacies of intelligence but to his ignorance of the dialectic. When Socrates inquires about Theaetetus' education under Theodorus, we hear that Theaetetus has been pursuing the very course of studies prescribed for the young philosopher in the Republic: arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and harmonics. The only thing which Theodorus has neglected is the dialectic. Since Socrates and Theodorus appear to be old acquaintances, Socrates is no doubt familiar with Theodorus' dislike of participation in dialogues. Theodorus criticizes Socrates' love of argument which never seems to definitely establish anything other than refutations. He also complains of the Ephesians' refusal to state their views specifically and concludes ''We must take over the question ourselves and try to solve it like a problem"(180c) . Theodorus is an educated man and a respected teacher, but he ~uch prefers problemsolving to the pursuit of the elusive nature of things. Theaetetus is so inexperienced with the dialectic as Socrates practices it that, when asked what knowledge is, he lists all the things he considers to be knowledge . Even after Socrates has explained that he wants to discover the nature of knowledge, Theaetetus still puzzles, ''But I cannot persuade myself that I can give any satisfactory solution or that anyone has ever stated in my hearing the sort of answer you require'' (l 48e) . Socrates waits until the very end of the dialogue before he states specifically what is gained by the experience of a dialogue. Then supposing you should ever henceforth try to conceive afresh, Theaetetus, if you succeed, your embryo thoughts will be the better as a consequence of today's scrutiny, and if you remain barren, you will be gentler and more agreeable to your companions, having the good sense not to fancy you know w h at you do not know (210b-c). For Socrates, the dialectic is set "above all other studies to be as it were the coping stone" (Republic, 534e). However, Theaetetus has never practiced the dialectic and believes knowledge to be no more than the things Theodorus teaches him and the crafts of workmen. It is 15 �impossible that the inexperienced Theaetetus comprehend Socrates' last speech until he has participated in a dialogue . Socrates must utilize the dialectic itself so that Theaetetus may understand the dialectic to be the highest and most important part, the culmination, of his education. Socrates prepares Theaetetus for the dialogue itself by describing his practice of the dialectic, which he likens to midwifery. He describes it later and more concisely as ''the skill to get some account of the matter from another's wisdom and entertain it with fair treatment" (161b). Socrates does not teach as Theodorus does, for he claims to have no wisdom in him and to have made no discoveries, and thus has nothing to teach to students. The people who frequent his company make progress without learning from him but are, at the same time, dep en dent on his assistance. The dialectic is not a mystical process which produces truths. It requires an interplay of presentation and testing of ideas for progress to occur . Theaetetus presents his second idea for Socrates to test: ''knowledge is perception.'' Socrates associates the doctrine of Protagoras with Theaetetus' s definition and pursues a series of arguments about the doctrine which take up nearly half the bulk of the dialogue. There are a number of good reasons for Socrates to bring in Protagoras's doctrine. Theodorus is kept interested in the dialogue since it concerns the philosophy of his friend. The dialogue is less threatening for Theaetetus, because Socrates attacks his idea indirectly. But the most important result of this is that Socrates is able to take on the persona of the necessarily absent Protagoras and, as an outsider, critique the progression of the dialogue. This is the doctrine of Protagoras as outlined by Socrates and Theaetetus. When a thing which can perceive and a thing which can be perceived meet, two things come into being: the perception received by the thing which can percieve and the qualities attributed to the thing which can be perceived. These things, the perception and the qualities perceived, are unique . Subsequent perceptions and qualities perceived will be necessarily different since the thing which can perceive and the thing which can be perceived are both in the process of constant change . In short, as Socrates says at the beginning, "nothing is one thing just by itself, nor can you rightly call it by some definite name, nor even say it is of any definite sort" (152d). Each individual's perception is absolutely true for that individual. Socrates does not give a fair treatment of the idea just established, but latches onto the first inconsistency he can find and uses it to demolish not only the doctrine but Protagoras' personal integrity too. If each person's beliefs resulting from perception are equally true, Socrates argues, then no one is wiser than anyone else, not even Protagoras . Either Protagoras is a shyster who cannot justify his well-paid position as teacher, or he is lying to flatter the public. Theaetetus is understandably taken aback at this attack and can find no way to defend his idea. Socrates gives a number of examples of prediction i-n which an expert's opinion is superior to an untrained person's opinion. Protagoras himself, according to both Socrates and Theodorus, claimed to judge better than any other ~'what was going to be and appear in the future'' (179a). Therefore, Socrates concludes, "one man is wiser than another''(179b). The wisdom which Socrates has shown to exist is not the ability to substitute a sound opinion for an unsound one, as was stated in Protagoras' defense, but the wisdom which "lies in thinking truly"(170b), as Socrates proposed. Socrates' third argument attacks the Heraclitan principle of continual change which was stated at the beginning as a necessary part of the Protagorean doctrine . The previous two arguments dealt with the truth of the individual's opinion. This argument deals with the truth of th e individual' s perception . Socrates describes "two kinds of change-alteration and local movement''(181d). All things, in order to be completely in change, must change continually in both ways . According to this idea, even the faculties of hearing and seeing change, and nothing may be rightly called perception. Thus, the principle of continual change makes the statement ''knowledge is perception" nonsensic al inste ad of supporting it. Three possibilities arise . Some things may change continually only in location and so possess definite qualities. Some things may change continually only by alteration and so be at rest . Some things may not change at all, eternally stable in location and quality. It seems that Socrates makes an elaborate effort to expose Theaetetus to ideas through the dialectic when he might simply tell Theaetetus directly. There are several reasons why Socrates does not tell Theaetetus his ideas. The first is that Theaetetus has the nature of the true philosopher. Although he makes faulty statements and becomes confused, Theaetetus always struggles patiently onward. He never becomes completely discouraged in his pursuit of the answer to the question he could not get out of his mind from the start. Several times Socrates praises the spirit he shows. Theaetetus acknowledges his errors and takes Socrates' criticism constructively . He remains honest, straightforward, and respectful. Even when Socrates teases him, asking, " Will you accept it as palatable to your tas te?", h e responds mildly, "Really, I am not sure, Socrates. I cannot even make out about you, w hether you are stating this as somethin g you believe or merely putting me to the test" (157e). By th e final part of the dialogue, which deals with true opinion combined w ith rational explanation, Theaetetus is able to keep up with Socrates quite well. The second reason is that Theaetetus' teacher is Theodorus . Theodorus is not a bad teacher, but his teaching stops short of the education Theaetetus needs as a young p h ilosopher. Socrates, in the Republic, warns of the many dangers of corruption a young philosoph er faces: he risks being swept away by the lure of public approval an d fame. ' 'His kinsmen and fellow citizens, then, will desire . . . to make use of him when he is older fo r does not intend to fool Theaetetus into believing his argument. He wants to expose Theaetetus to such attacks so that he will neither succomb to them nor use them as valid arguments. "We profess," he says, "to be seeking wisdom, not competing for victory"(164e) . Socrates interrupts the dialogue, in the persona of Protagoras, to scold both Theaetetus for taking claptrap seriously and himself, Socrates, for arguing from probability. Socrates is not yet ready to settle down and argue seriously with Theaetetus. He plays the part of a "mercenary skirmisher in a war of words'' (165d) and introduces three paradoxical examples: Do we know the words of an unlearned foreign language when we perceive them? Does a man who stops perceiving by closing his eyes also stop knowing? When a person covers one eye, seeing and not seeing, is he then knowing and not knowing simultaneously? Theaetetus manages to d efuse the foreign language example by saying that one knows the shapes and sounds one perceives, even if not their meaning. He is not able to untangle the other two examples . Speaking as Protagoras, Socrates interrupts for the second time and makes a long speech to defend Protagoras' doctrine . At this point, an interruption is necessary, for Theaetetus is unable and Theodorus unwilling to defend Protagoras against Socrates. "No one can elude the toils of argument you spin for him," says Theodorus, as Socrates draws him into the argument. In fact, none of Socrates' three dialogue partners escape. Protagoras is conjured up from the realm of the dead. Theodorus is forced to participate. Theaetetus, too intimidated and hesitant to continue productively, is rather harshly criticized and sent to the bench . Socrates, accompanied by Theodorus, attacks Protagoras ' doctrine from three different angles . None of these arguments satisfactorily refutes the doctrine as a whole. Instead, Socrates whittles away at it until it suits him. Each argument points out a paradox which can only be resolved if a certain aspect of Protagoras' doctrine is rejected as false . Each time, an alternative idea, never stated directly, must replace the Protagorean idea in order to resolve the paradox. This is the closest Socrates can get to stating his own views to Theaetetus without presenting them as another doctrine . For the first argument, Socrates brings opinions, true to the individuals who hold them, into the realm of public dispute . Neither Theodorus nor any Protagorean is ''prepared to maintain that no one regards anyone else as ignorant or as making false judgements"(170c). In order to defend himself against his opponents, Protagoras must admit that false judgments do exist. Otherwise, Protagoras is forced to "acknowledge his own belief to be false, if he admits that the belief of those who think him wrong is true"(171b). This argument implies that, even if the individual who holds an opinion believes it to be true, it is possible that the opinion, under proper scrutiny, may be conclusively proved false. In the second argument, Socrates casts the individual's true opinion into the realm of prediction. He their own affairs'' and ''they will fawn upon him with petitions and honors, anticipating and flattering the power that will be his"(494b-c). It is up to Socrates not merely to expose Theaetetus to the practice of the dialectic, but to convince him that it is the appropriate pursuit for him. There are a number of places, early in the dialogue, where Socrates associates invalid arguments with "professional controversialists"(164c) and the like. Socrates also makes an abrupt change in topic, during his dialogue with Theodorus, to compare the orator and the philosopher. He presents the education of the orator as a harsh and fearful process that produces a trained orator when it "has dwarfed and twisted his growth and robbed him of his free spirit, driving him into devious ways"(173a) . In contrast, "the free man always has time at his disposal to converse in peace at his leisure" (172d) . Socrates also vividly describes the public mockery that a philosopher risks. However, orators, Socrates claims, ''if they are men enough to face a long examination without running away .. . end by finding their own arguments unsatisfying"(l77b). At least the philosopher follows the pattern "of divine happiness", seeking not apparent but true righteousness. We know, from the description of Theaetetus as a grown man in the prelude to the dialogue, that Theaetetus did evade the corrupting influences that Socrates warned him to avoid and did become a "remarkable man"(142d) as Socrates predicted . The image a reader might create of the two men conversing, old and young, but like to like, has similarities to Socrates ' description of his meeting with Parmenides. Parmenides himself is in my eyes, as H omer says, a 'reverend and awful' figure . I met him when I was quite young and he quite elderly and I thought there was a sort of depth in him that was altogether noble(183e-184a) . It is impossible to determine how much Socrates actually influenced Theaetetus, but perhaps Socrates hoped to leave as lasting an impression on Theaetetus as Parmenides had on him. The translations quoted in this paper are F.M. Cornford's translation of the Theaetetus and Paul Shorey's translation of the Republic, both of which are fo und in Th e Collected Dialogu es of Plato, edited by Edith Hamilton and Hu ntington cairns, Princeton University Press, 1961. 17 16 - �Pre-Cadent Metnbrance Anonymous ! ,/ I I Bring or be brung anyhow try to come and perhaps you'll agree this hall I believe wants to see your evocative smile as fervent as mine. With radiant glory like of a Mount descent enheartened souls will meet the floors to make life in Dance slurred with effervescence enhanced. Swing or be swung in some blurred form of flung over eyes near unmoved there's this streaked world in blue, amber white, red and brown racing right only round and to see is to be lie that wide-open eye; Impassioned celebration of embodied revelationCulmination spirited brings the Post-cad.e nt Trance: of Ambient resonance. 19 �Sotne Thoughts On Warinth, Heat, and Tetnperature Bryan Dorland ('92) When one talks of the warmth, heat, and temperature of an object, it seems that one specific aspect of that object is being discussed, for the three appear at first closely related to each other. Upon closer scrutiny, however, the three terms are radically different in their meanings and the phenomena they describe. So what is this certain aspect which is capable of being described in three related yet quite unlike terms? Before this question can be answered the three terms must be differentiated. Thus, what is meant by warmth, heat, and temperature when talking of an object? Warmth is the most elemental. When someone touches an object, he decides whether it is cold, warm, or hot. A man grasping an ice cube in his left hand and a cup of tea in his right can say the ice cube is cold and the cup warm. He can also say that the cup is warmer than the ice cube. Thus it a pears that the man has given places to these two objects on an innate, internal, ordinal scale of warmth, for an ordinal scale as defined in the Freshman laboratory manual Measurement and Equilibrium is one which " ... enable(s) us to ascertain the existence of sameness or difference between two instances of a variable characteristic ... '' The man can say the cup is warmer than the ice cube because he can compare them directly with each other. But if the man just picks up the ice cube, what is it in the obj ect that allows him to make a judgement on its warmth without direct comparison? Is it that he compares it with himself, an idea that is readily contested by anyone who has ever swum in 90 degree water. · The water is very warm to the swimmer, yet it is below his body's temperature. What if the man makes the comparison between his environment and the object? That is, if an object is below "room temperature" is it thus judged to be "cold"? What about the person who, while sitting in a room with no heat and the window open, remarks that the room is cold? He cannot be comparing the temperature of the room to itself and corning to the conclusion that the room is cold for it would have to be colder that itself, which is absurd. It would seem that each human body has a certain range of warmth within which it is comfortable. A man being placed in the Arctic Circle during winter will say "it is cold", and a man being placed in the Amazon basin during summer will say "it is hot". Thus there appears to be an internal notion-a meter-against which things are compared to in order to judge their warmth. If this is so, is this meter universal-is it an "absolute"? The man who travels into the tropics will feel the oppresive heat, yet will eventually "acclimatize" to the environment to the point that what was once hot now seems normal. I would further assert that the meter is not universal, in the sense that to a Phillipino, Maryland might seem cool, yet to a Norwegian, Maryland would seem very warm. Thus, this internal meter seems to fluctuate and tends toward the warmth that surrounds the observer, although this adjusting seems to take some time. What of the case of the observer who first places his left hand in ice water and his right in hot water, then both in lukewarm water? He judges the water to be both hot (using his left hand) and cold (using his right) simultaneously. I would say that the man, by first introducing his senses to different extremes, has in essence, substituted the meter of the warmths of the two containers of water for his own. This is not a concious decision on his part, but it certainly is a result of exposing his senses to the two extremes before attempting to judge the mean. Furthermore, if the man were to withdraw his hands from the water for five or ten minutes and then test the third glass, would the results be similar? I would say that the senses would rapidly return to the internal meter of the body, and thus the third glass would be judged equally warm or cold by both hands. So the concept of warmth is one of comparison, both between any number of objects and also with an internal "warmth meter" . The relative warmth of a thing can then be used to give it a place on one's own internal ordinal scale of warmth. But it has been shown that while warmth is logically consistent, it is also completely subjective to the observer both as a person and as a product of his environment. Is it possible to construct a measure of warmth which is objective? Further, is it possible to con- 21 �struct a ration scale of warmth? Farenheit, by observing the expansive effects of warmth on mercury, devised the objective form of measurement. The name of the instrument which is su pposed to be this obj ective measure-thermometer is derived from th e Gr ee k '' E>E pµo c; ' ' meaning warmt h a n d " TO µ£ Tpou" meaning measure, h ence the me asurer of warmth . By translating volume of m ercury into an absolute measure of warmth. By translating volume of mercury into an absolute measure of w armth itself, the idea of "temperature" comes into being. A sealed tube containing a constant amount of mercury, and large enough to allow for a fluctuation of the volume, will, by its nature, be subject to only one variable: temperature. Thus by measuring the length, and so volume, one measures temperature . Because all other variables have been removed, it would follow that whenever a given volume of mercury is duplicated, the temperature it is measuring will be duplicated. Is this so? Without knowing much about boiling and melting, common sense says that when either of these two occur, it represents a change in state (i.e. solid, liquid, and gaseous states). The change in state seems to be dictated by the fact that for any given material, the thing can only be in one such state at any one temperature, and further, that which governs the state the thing is in does not fluctuate. This means that when it is very cold out, water is in the form of a solid because it can only exist as such. When it is gradually warmed, a point is reached at which it will simply be unable to exist as a solid because of its very nature. Thus it becomes liquid at that specific temperature. No matter how hard one tries to heat the solid, one cannot heat it above this point because it cannot be so. It is similar with liquid and gas. No matter how many logs you throw on the fire, you cannot heat liquid water past a certain point, because it loses its essence of liquidness and becomes a gas. If this hypothesis can be agreed to, then it will be shown that if our thermometer reads the same volumes of mercury when repeatedly exposed to these '' transformation" or "becoming" temperatures, then it will truly be a measure of absolute warmth, and the concept of temperature will be proved true . And indeed this is the case, as experiments demonstrate. Water melts at a certain length of mercury no matter how many times the measurement is attempted, as it also boils at a certain temperature. So temperature is absolute warmth, and a thermometer is the measure of the temperature. But is a thermometer a ratio scale? It would seem both yes and no. The temperature of two liquids mixed together is shown in experiments to be inversely proportional to their volumes. This means that a volume twice the second will, when mixed with the second, suffer only half the temperature fluctuation of the second volume no matter what temperatures they are measured at. In other words, the temperature gradients, or the units assigned to measure the temperature (a function of the length of mercury) are the same near the bottom of the scale as the 22 gradients near the top of the scale. So they are additive, which is a step in the right direction, for to be additive means that temperature is at least an interval scale. Yet to be a ratio the gradients must also be sh own to be multiplicative (for what is multiplication but repeated addition starting from the unity). So is one hundred degrees farenheit twice as warm as fifty? If one were to argue th at the melti ng point of the brine mixture is as cold as it can be (i .e. totally lacking warmth itself), then Farenh eit's scale w ould p ass the test. But this is absurd, as frozen brine is manifestly colder then the zero reading. If we consider our measure of the temperaturethe volume of our mercury-then we might find the answer. If it truly measures temperature, then the volume will continue to decrease until it either freezes or stops becoming smaller. If it freezes, it becomes useless to us, as we have no indication that solid mercury fluctuates with the temperature. But if it were the case that the second were true, then we would have truly reached a zero point for our absolute ratio scale. But our problem, and Farenheit's, is that with our equipment in the lab it is· plainly impossible to reach this absolute point, and thus it appears to us that temperature is not in a ratio scale. Is it the case that an absence of absolute zero prohibits our instruments from detecting it, or simply that we can not measure it with the instruments at hand? The problem is similar to a man standing on the roof of an eighty story building looking towards a ninety story building standing side by side with a hundred story one. Is the third building twice the height of the second? To our rooftop observer it appears to be, but it is not. The only vantage point that would show their true ratios would be from the ground. So we now have warmth as the subjective measure of warmness and temperatures as the absolute measure of warmness. But what is this warmness? What is it that your hand really measures when you touch ice, and a thermometer measure when in boiling water? It is heat. Heat is that which gives something its temperature . Heat is that which makes something warmer than another. Heat is that which blends proportionally when two substances are mixed . But is heat a quantity or a quality? Aristotle, in Categories, discusses what it means to be one or the other. I find his stringent distinction between a quantity (e.g. three feet) and a quality (e.g. white) is that " ... a quantity has no contrary" while "contrariety with respect to quality is possible.'' So, no matter how hard you look, an opposite of three feet will not be found, yet whiteness and blackness are plainly opposed. Is there, then, an opposite to heat? If there is, let u s call it "cold". Not cold in the sense that on our ordinal scale one might say that "ice is cold", but rather as opposed to heat, and equal to it in the sense that they are both qualities. Does the quality of cold exist in an object alongside the quality of heat? Plato investigates the nature of hot and cold in the dialogue Sophist (line 243): say, "Ye, who affirm that hot and cold or any other two principles are the universe, what is this term which you apply to both of them, and what do you mean when you say that both and each of them are? How are we to understand the word 'are'? Upon your view are we to suppose that there is a third principle over and above the other two-three in all, and not two? For clearly you can not say that one of the two principles is being, and yet attribute being equally to both of them; for, if you did, whichever of the two is identified with being, will comprehend the other; and so will be one and not two. So if we are to say that the nature of anything that is is to have a certain amount of heat we cannot say at the same instant a thing has a certain amount of cold. They cannot both define being as principles, for they are contrary. Thus if the contrary to heat is "not", it must be a quantity. So it has been shown that a thing partakes of the quantity of heat. The degree of this partaking is enumerated by the temperature of the thing. Finally, our interpretation of the temperature of a thing, dependent on both the observer and his environment, and completely subjective, is what we term warmth . So three are both different and at the same time similar. But we must now deal with two new phenomena which present themselves to the laboratory experimentor. How do the ideas of heat capacity and latent heat affect the arguments? Equal heat in two different objects does not necessarily mean equal temperature or warmth. Joseph Black demonstrated this with his experiments on water and mercury. Differing materials have a different "capacity" for heat, which is to say that the lower the capacity for heat, the greater the effect on the temperature or warmth. In the case of equal amounts of mercury and water being exposed to an equal amount of heat, the temperature of the mercury will be higher than the temperature of the water in direct proportion to the ratio of the heat capacities. So different materials act differently when exposed to equal amounts of heat, the only variable is the nature of the materials. Stranger still is the idea of "latent" heat. While heat and temperature still seem to behave "normally" (i.e. in direct correspondence) in most instances (given that you do not change materials), the object behaves "abnormally" when near its "becoming" temperature. Solid water, at 31 degrees farenheit will absorb much more heat for the sake of melting than would normally be required to raise it one or two degrees either as a solid or as a liquid. the same phenomena occurs when liquid water is nearing 212 degrees. The act of becoming seems to require heat, thus heat cannot also affect the temperature or warmth of an object. It appears that some work is being done inside the material itself, preparing for the change in state. What this means to the observer is that additional heat does not necessarily mean additional temperature. So it seems that heat itself is a quantity contained within a thing and that is principle of all things that are. It manifests itself through the object, and this manifestation is what we experience as both warmth and temperature. But while heat manifests itself through a thing, the thing somehow effects this manifestation. The object, with its heat capacity, dictates in what ratio the heat will translate into temperature. Further, as an object's temperature approaches a becoming point, the object requires heat to transform itself into the next state, heat which does not affect the temperature. So a thing is acted upon by heat, and through the nature of that thing, heat is manifest as warmth and temperature. The right method .. . w ill be to call into our presence the dualistic philosophers and to interrogate them . " Come," we will 23 �The Contradictions of Einpiricisin: Hunte's Relations as Necessary Non-Etnpirical Ideas Craig Thomas ('90) Hume's pervasive skepticism, as it evolves in the first book of his Treatise of Human Nature, depends largely on his principle that all ideas are derived from impressions. From the optimistic subtitle which opens the treatise, "An Attempt to Introduce the Experimental Method of Reasoning into Moral Subjects," to the gloomy metaphor of the ship-wrecked sailor in the conclusion of Book I, Hume proceeds down a path of increasing doubt and disillusion. In the process of developing this thought, however, he ends by contradicting himself. Since he later asserts the irrational origin of our belief in causality, he cannot contend that ideas are derived from (i.e., caused by) impressions. We must restate his principle thus: all ideas in our experience have immediately followed impressions similar to them. His later explanation of causality as a mental habit can be similarly criticized by his own standards, but we shall postpone this discussion for now. First we must ask if we are willing to accept even the restatement of his principle. Have all of our ideas followed similar and antecedent impressions? If we answer no, we are left with two alternatives. We can contend that one or more ideas are innate to the mind-that is, prior to all experience and so not consequent to any impression. We can also hypothesize that, in the midst of our experience, ideas spring into begin which are in no way traceable to impressions . Although experience may be the spur to their first appearance, these ideas are not mere copies of the objects of sensation. We need not worry about the old scholastic objection .that such ideas would have no explicable cause; Hume himself has shown us that reason does not recognize the necessity of a cause. Whichever alternative we prefer, we face the same task-namely, to provide at least one example of an idea which does not appear to be derived from an impression. If we can find such an idea, we have taken our first step toward refuting several of Hume's most troubling claims: that we have no real idea of causality, no real idea of the self, no real idea of external body. Perhaps these are innate ideas, or are in some part derived from them. Hume's own rejection of the possibility of innate ideas is brief and unsatisfying. In Part I Section I he presents several examples of ideas which obviously reflect sense impressions: an apple, his chamber, the city of Paris, the color red. Apparently Hume believes these to be an adequate sampling of our myriad ideas, for he then concludes that every idea must similarly reflect an impression. The only possible exception he can find is the ability to imagine a never-before-experienced shade of color between two given shades. The very singularity of this case, however, leaves him confident that he can generalize his principle to a universal truth . At the end of Section I he scoffs at those philosophers who have defended the existence of innate ideas. Again he considers only a couple of uncontroversial cases: We may observe, that in order to prove the ideas of extension and colour not to be innate, philosophers do nothing but shew, that they are conveyed by our senses. To prove the ideas of passion and desire not to be innate, they observe th at we have a preceding experience of these emotions in ourselves. Now if we carefully examine these arguments, we shall find that they prove nothing but that ideas are preceded by other more lively perceptions, from which they are derived, and wh ich they represent. (Treatise, p. 7) In light of Kant, we might see extension as a controversial contender for status as an innate idea. But although extension is a priori for Kant (since it is known simply by analysis of the concept of body), it is not pure a priori like all innate ideas. (Critique of Pure Reason, Intro., IV) Hume has really ignored all the ideas which philosophers, before and after his day, have most often suggested as nonempirical. These we can divide into two groups for convenience. The first are these ideas which Plato frequently discussed as eternal "forms'~such as goodness, justice, truth, and beauty. Hume ignores these difficult, abstract ideas entirely in the first book of his Treatise, so we cannot know how he would attempt to trace them back to impressions. The second group, however, he deals with at great length, so we can certainly use it as a line of criticism. This group comprises certain ideas which we employ to order and understand our sense experiences. Kant's pure concepts of the understanding, the categories, are examples of this type of non-empirical 25 �knowledge which renders experience possible . We shall investigate whether Hume's "relations" are not also of this type, and as such may be termed "innate ideas." In Part III Section II of the first book, Hume writes: ''All kinds of reasoning consist in nothing but a comparison, and a discovery of those relations, either constant or inconstant, which two or more objects bear to each other ." (Treatise, p. 73) Reason, then, is really only the observation of relations between objects. Consequently, these relations are of great importance to Hume, and he enumerates and analyzes them in detail . All philosophical relations fall under seven general heads, which are: resemblance, contrariety, degrees of a quality, proportions in quantity or number, identity, relations of space and time, and cause and effect . Of particular importance is resemblance, since all the other relations incorporate it to some extent . In H u m e' s own words, " No relation of any kind can subsist without some degree of resemblance." (Treatise, p. 15) Hume splits the seven relations into two types: those which cannot vary without changing the ideas of the objects which are related, and those which can vary. The first four relations listed above, according to Hume, are of the kind that cannot vary; the remaining three can. One of these latter, causation, receives extensive treatment in the Treatise. Hume's conclusion about it, of course, is that it cannot be inferred from experience. We never have an impression of causation but only of constant conjunction. This immediately casts suspicion on his other relations . If causation is a mere fiction of the imagination, so might be the other six types. If on the other hand, we uphold the belief that we have real ideas of resemblance, contrariety, and the others, then perhaps we can salvage the idea of causation. Hume' s own argument against the existence of innate ideas, as we have already remarked, is that for every idea he could think of, he could remember a similar and antecedent impression. Let us submit one of his relations to the same test. Since he considers resemblance fundamental to all the other relations, we shall use it as our example. First we must agree that we do indeed have an idea corresponding to the word "resemblance." And even more p rimary, we need to settle upon an acceptable definition of an idea. Hume's definition is of course unacceptable, as it assumes the point in dispute-that is, that ideas are less vivid copies of impressions. Rather than discuss the origin of ideas, we should inquire exclusively into what they are once they do exist. Taking common usage as our guide, an idea is virtually synonymous with a thought. We cannot limit its meaning to mental "pictures," for we also have ideas of incorporeal abstractions (e.g., justice, truth) and even entire statements . In its standard, though admittedly broad, definition, an idea is any element of our understanding or our reason considered as a single entity. By defining it as an element of the understanding or the reason, I mean to exclude impressions as they initially appear to the senses (from whatever source). These must be reproduced by some means as ideas before they become objects of the under- standing. In this way I maintain H ume's distinction between impressions and ideas. By defining an idea as a single entity, I mean that whether it be simple or complex (in Hume's sense), represented by a single word or a sentence, it is referred to as an individual unit of our thought. Thus "the virtuous man is happy" has a single corresponding idea just as do the individual words "virtuous'' and ''man.'' By our definition, certainly we have an idea of resemblance. We use the term regularly to denote some distinct element of our thought, whatever its origin might be. We may have difficulty defining it without resorting to virtual synonyms like comparison and similarity, but we are all able to call such an idea to mind. We should address one possible objection, however. We seem also to have an idea corresponding to the word "cause," but Hume has suggested that this is really a pseudo-idea. What we call the idea of cause if really only a movement of our thought, the habitual expectation of one idea triggered by the appearance of another. We shall criticize this . explanation later in connection with cause; for now we need only ask if our idea of resemblance might not be a similar pseudo-idea. We can definitely say that, if it is a pseudo-idea, it is not of the same sort as "cause." In Hume's analysis, we arrive at this latter by a mental habituation which results from the recognition of resemblances among our experiences. Therefore the idea of resemblance is assumed to explain such a supposed pseudo-idea as causation. If resemblance is some other sort of pseudoidea, I leave it to anyone else to explain what sort. We can accept with reasonable certainty, then, that we have a genuine idea of resemblance according to our new definition of idea. Should one react skeptically to any conclusions based on this new definition, however, we need only turn to Hume's own words . In Part I Section V he writes, "It may perhaps be esteemed an endless task to enumerate all those qualities, which make objects admit of comparison, and by which the ideas of philosophical relation are produced." (Treatise, p. 14) He continues by showing that these endless qualities can be resolved into the seven types of relation already mentioned. The quotation points out two important facts: 1) Hume accepts that we hav e ideas of these relations, including resemblance and (at this point) even cause; 2) He believes that these ideas are produced by qualities of the objects which are related, i.e., the relations are derived from impressions. Admitting that we h ave an idea corresponding to the word "resemblance/' let us now inquire whether this idea originally followed an impression similar to it. Obviously we h ave never witnessed " resemblance'' itself, stripped from any of its particular manifestations. The only logical place for us to look, of course, is at the impressions of particular objects which resemble each other. Let us take, for example, two copies of the 1939 Oxford Edition of Hume's Treatise of Human Nature. If we choose two that are sufficiently similar, we may even fool someone into asserting their identity. We need only show him one, substitute the other in the same position when he is not looking, and then show him the second. It is quite possible that he would mistakenly assume that the two were just one book. Sometimes this proves true even with people, as in the case of "identical" twins. These examples should suffice to show that we do not have a special faculty to detect identity-that is, sameness rather than similarity. Identity, then, is really not a separate relation from resemblance, but is only a specific case of it (resemblance in a very great degree). Hume's distinction between the two, however, is valid psychologically if not philosophically . Although we recognize no philosophical distinction between resemblance and identity (except one of degree), there is an enormous difference in our manner of thinking about the two . When we close our eyes and reopen them, we believe that the objects before us are not merely similar to, but identical and continuous with those we saw previously. Upon the distinction between resemblance and identity rests all belief in the permanence of objects. But our chief question, again, is, whence came the idea of resemblance between the two books? We expect that even a child who had never seen any book before would acknowledge this resemblance. Is the resemblance contained in the impression of either one of the books? Obviously not. Neither book, considered individually, elicits the idea of resemblance. But the two impressions together are nothing more than the sum of each considered separately. Otherwise, some quality not present in either book individually would mysteriously have appeared when the two are viewed together. To demonstrate that this is clearly not the case, we need only view the tw o books separately with a span of time between them. If one day we see the first book, then we form one impression for it. If a day later we see the second book alone, we simply receive another solitary impression for that book. Yet we still form the idea of their resemblance. This resemblance cannot be a mysterious quality of the objects themselves, for it has appeared only between the ideas of the books. It was not present in either of the individual impressions. It must have had an origin within the mind itself. The only way to contest this conclusion is to find an impression which actually contains resemblance within it. But it is obvious that we never have an impression of resemblance itself, and equally obvious that resemblance is not contained in the impressions of any particular objects which resemble each other . What other sort of impression could possibly communicate the idea of resemblance to us? In the absence of an answer, we can only hypothesize that resemblance is a very real idea which nevertheless has no impression as its counterpart. One additional observation will help to emphasize this point. Hume' s fundamental principle, as we have seen, is that all our ideas have followed antecedent and similar impressions. Yet this very principle necessitates the prior idea of resemblance . Without possessing the idea of resemblance, we could never con clude that our ideas reflect our impressions. We would have no reason to suspect that our ideas were derived from any external source, and were not merely phantoms of our imagination. We could not assert that we arrive at the idea of resemblance empirically, for without its prior existence in the mind we would recognize no connection between the idea of it and any impression which might have produced it. Now that we have achieved this foothold against Hume's principle with the idea of resemblance, let us examine its consequences. First we will ask: Is our idea of resemblance innate, or did it simply appear in our minds at some time? This is very difficult for us to determine, for in either case the idea is present very early in childhood. An infant is clearly able to recognize the same object or person over an interval of time, and since identity is simply a special case of resemblance, we must admit an idea of resemblance in the earliest stages of youth. This would incline us toward the theory of its innateness, though we have by no means an incontrovertible proof of this. Similarly, we have shown that a prior idea of resemblance is necessary for us to observe any connection between our ideas and impressions. Without this idea we would be unable to assert that any of our ideas were "reflections" of our impressions. This would render all empiricism impossible, for we would have no means of tracing ideas beyond our own imagination. Since we very rarely (if ever) encounter this drastic solipsism in children, we are again inclined to the view that resemblance is an innate idea. As yet another alternative, we may hypothesize that the idea of resemblance begins simultaneously with experience. This is of course the position which Kant holds in regard to his pure a priori concepts. They are mere forms until they gain some empirical matter, at which point they become objects of knowledge. Perhaps, in parallel fashion, resemblance becomes an idea (that is, an object of knowledge) only after experience has provided a particular example which takes the form of resemblance. One may debate whether such an idea can properly be called innate, but the argument is really irrelevant. In any of the above hypotheses, the idea of resemblance is not a "reflection" derived from some imp ression; its origin is within the mind. I have used the term "innate" because Hume poses it as the opposite of his strict empiricism. We can never truly decide whether the idea of resemblance exists before all experience, though it was surely not derived from it. How does our conclusion about resemblance reflect .on Hume's other relations? Since, in his own words, "no relation of any kind can subsist without some degree of resemblance' ', we must admit that the ideas of all his relations depend at least partly on an idea with no corresponding impression. None can be completely derived from experience. Since Hume casts the greatest doubt on the idea of causality, we shall examine it in particular. The element of resemblance in causality, I imagine, is the similarity in place and time between the two objects which we call cause and effect. This is the contiguity and succession which Hume points out. He rightly argues that 27 �we never have an impression of causality (this would be analogous to having an impression of resemblance, which we have found impossible). He then concludes, however, that we cannot have any idea of causality, because such an idea would defy his principle. But are we not all conviced that we do indeed have such an idea? In such a case, we should perhaps abandon the principle rather than ignor the evidence of our thought. In light of our overwhelming belief in causality, we must turn to Hume's explanation of it as neither innate nor empirically derived. According to Hume, we never have a true experience of cause and effect. In situations where we appear to witness causality, careful analysis reveals that we really experience only the contiguity and succession of objects. He is, I believe, justified in reaching this conclusion. The exact same sequence of events could be explained in a non-causal way, as the coincidental but unrelated actions of the two objects. The appearances of the causal hypothesis (where one object determines the change in the other) and of the coincidental hypothesis (where no interaction occurs) would be indistinguishable . Consequently, in simply looking upon the sequence of events, we could never determine whether the relation of the objects was causal or coincidental. We could not derive the idea of causality from these appearances, for contiguity and succession are not a sufficient assurance of cause and effect . Hume writes: Shall we then rest contented with these two relations of contiguity and succession, as affording a complete idea of c~usa­ tion? By no means . An object may be co ntiguous and pnor to another, without being consider'd as its cause. There is a necessary connection to be taken into consideration; and that relation is of much greater importance, than any of the other two above-mention' d. (Treatise, p.77) Contiguity and succession fail not only as an adequate source of the idea of causality; they are insufficient even to bring about the pseudo-idea of causality formed by the imagination. This is because we often experience contiguous and successive objects without attributing any causal connection to them. There must exist a necessary connection between the objects. If such a necessary connection can truly be discovered, then we may uphold an authentic idea of causality . If this connection does not truly exist, yet the mind is misled into believing it does exist, then we will form the pseudo-idea of causality. Hume searches for this necessary connection and finds the most likely candidate in ''constant conjunction''. By this he means that contiguity and succession have occured repeatedly when two objects were placed in like circumstances . In section VI he writes, "Contiguity and succession are not sufficient to make us pronounce any two objects to be cause and effect, unless we perceive, that these two relations are preserv' d in several instances." (Treatise, p.87) In Hume's assessment, then, contiguity and succession present in constant conjunction are sufficient to bring about the belief in causality. Are they sufficient, however, to establish a true idea of 28 cause? Hume answers no . Constant conjunction is not the necessary connection we required . The recurring pattern of past events acquires the force of necessity only if we accept the principle, "that instances, of which we have had no experience, must resemble those, of which we have had experience, and that the course of nature continues always uniformly the same.'' (Treatise, p.89) In considerable detail, Hume demonstrates the impossibility of deriving such a principle from experience. Nor can it be deduced from logic, for no contradiction would arise in denying it. Constant conjunction is not a sufficient impression to produce the idea of causality, and Hume despairs of ever finding such an impression. We can have no genuine idea of cause, and he is forced to explain it as a false inference drawn from a mental habit. When we have experienced a sequence of events repeatedly under the same circumstances, our mind becomes accustomed to the pattern of impressions which follow one after the other. When next we find ourselves in those circumstances and the sequence begins, our mind will anticipate the rest of the sequence out of habit. When · we have experienced the sequence a great many times (and with no deviations from the pattern), the mind will become so fixed in its anticipation that the rest of the sequence will be assumed automatically. This, according to Hume, is the only legitimate meaning of necessity . "Necessity, then, is the effect of this observation, and is nothing but an internal impression of the mind, or a determination to carry our thoughts from one object to another.'' (Treatise, p .165) If the repeated experience has been of the contiguity and succession of objects, then our minds will have that particular impression of necessity known as causality: "A cause is an object precedent and contiguous to another, and so united with it, that the idea of the one determines the mind to form the idea of the other, and the impression of the one to form a more lively idea of the other .'' (Treatise, p .170) Although he has defined both necessity and cause, they are clearly not what we originally thought them to be. We can advance two important criticisms of Hume's new definition of cause. The first concerns constant conjunction and the h abituation of the mind. As we have seen, the contiguity and succession of objects are not alone sufficient to make us assert an instance of causality- some necessary connection must also exist. According to Hume, constant conjunction serves as this necessary connection, and when it is p resent we w ill unhesitatingly interpret the objects as cause and effect. He is correct that mere contiguity and succession are insufficient to make us interpret events causally. But constant conjunction is not the necessary connection which the mind seeks . If objects can be contiguous and successive once without being interpreted causally, then they can be so any number of times. They can even be necessarily determined as contiguous and successive, thereby being in constant conjunction without a single deviation, and yet inspire no causal interpretation. Such a th eory has appeared several times in the history of philosophy, nota- bly in the Cartesians and Leibniz. Several followers of Descartes, having concluded that interaction between mind and body was impossible, invented the theory of "two clocks" to save the appearance of the mind's effect on matter. Both mind and body are determined in perfect synchronization, like two clocks keeping identical time. When one clock points to the hour, the other will strike, giving the impression that the former caused the latter. Mental and physical phenomena likewise follow a determined, synchronised sequence, but with no actual interaction and no cusal interpretation. Leibniz proposed the "pre-established harmony" of monads, which actual interaction and no causal interpretation. Leibniz proposed the "pre-established harmony'' of monads, which may be far-fetched speculation, but they demonstrate tht constant conjunction does not imply a causal interpretation. The crucial element of our idea of causality is not constant conjunction, but the determination of one object by another. When we assert an instance of causality, we do not mean only that some change in an object occurs always next to (in space and time) some other object. We mean that one object actively influenced the other. Hume is correct in arguing that we cannot derive any active influence from experience; cause and coincidence have the same appearances. So where does this notion of active influence originate? It cannot be explained as a mental habituation of constant conjunction. By such a theory, we are habituated only to expect events in sequence; we could just as easily interpret them as being determined coincidentally. There is nothing in the observation of constant conjunction which implies influence, yet this latter is the real sense in which we use "cause". If active influence cannot be derived from our impressions, nor explained as a mental habituation, it may well represent another "innate" idea. Once the universality of Hume's principle has been challenged by our idea of resemblance, we need not fear to put forth cause as another exception. This would of course put us in agreement with Kant, who upholds causation as one of the pure a priori concepts . We can make one other significant criticism of Hume's explanation of cause. Simply put, our criticism is that he employs the idea of cause to demonstrate that we have no real idea of cause. since we have had no true impression of cause as an active influence, he is forced to define it as no more than the observation of constant conjunction. But, according to his explanation, constant conjunction is the cause of our mental habituation . His very definition of cause states that the idea of one object ''determines the mind to form the idea of the other.'' If we have no real idea of causality, what does it mean for an idea to "determine" the mind. He recognizes no l necessity at all in the events we call "causal", but he is forced to claim that one idea necessarily determines the mind to form another. If we take the word "determines" to mean ''cause'' in the sense of his new definition, then we are left with some such statement as this: 'A cause is an object precedent and contiguous to another, and so united with it, that the idea of the one is precedent and contiguous to the formation by the mind of the idea of the other, and the impression of the one is precedent and contiguous to the formation of a more lively idea of the other.' We could likewise complain that "the formation by the mind'' is a causal concept which should also be rewritten with the ludicrous precision above. When we clear Hume of his contradictions (brought on by his need to use causal language), he is reduced to an endless regression of constant conjunctions and to near meaninglessness. Even Hume must retain the idea of "cause" as an active influence. Considering the doubt and despair into which Hume is thrown by adhering to his strict empiricism, we should be glad to have challenged its universality. We have seen that the relations, in which he places such importance, cannot be derived entirely from impressions. Resemblance, without which no relation of any kind can subsist, gives every indication of being an innate idea. Other hypotheses do not fully account for its origin. And we have seen that the idea of resemblance is necessary to render any empiricism possible- without it we could see no connection between our impressions and ideas. Resemblance plays a role in our idea of cause as well, insofar as the latter involves contiguity and succession. But we have observed that these two relations, even in constant conjunction, do not fully elicit our idea of causality. Also necessary is an idea of active influence, by which one object determines the change in the other. This active influence cannot be derived from our impressions, nor explained as the mental habituation of constant conjunction. It appears, like resemblance, to have had a nonempirical origin. Finally, we observed that Hume is often forced to contradict himself by using causal language. The fundamental principle of his Treatise is that all ideas are derived from impressions . Yet th is very principle makes him doubt the idea of cause, which in turn renders his principle untenable ("derived" being a causal word). When he offers a new definition of cause to avoid implications of necessity and influence, he is forced to say that one idea "determines" the mind to form another. Again he has used a causal word in its ordinary sense, implying both necessity and influence. We must temper his strict empiricism, allowing for non-empirical "innate" ideas, if we are to accurately account for our experiences. 29 �Cainel Ride Ange Mlinko ( '91) See-do Chimpanzees, through Helpless resemblances To us, with this captivity Make do; Lions Curb their torments Into figure eights traced Infinitely sideways, and the Reptiles Ingest Their restrictions And sleep on them; otters Go under, unto other lawsWater And airBaubles, swan, hawk, Pheasant's element: tooled Plumes and hidden hardware, flutes For bones. Ruckus Free wings cause near Us do not stir the caged , Nor do visitors stir to see One of Them, me Leading their kids On camels, circumspect, With light, flat step; with suspicion You learn. �be a spontaneous check on our snug involvement with life - a sudden sense of estrangement . Or it may be a teacher who tears us out of our usual context by the right sort of question - that is, when all is said and done, the most dramatically and unforgettably useful thing a teacher can do. The resultant state is what two great ancient philosophers, Plato and Aristotle, call "wonder". Wonder is not the same as "questioning things." when you question something you really have a mental reservation about it; in fact, such questioning is usually a cagey way of attacking other people's opinions. Wonder, as these philosophers understood it, is puzzlement and delight all wrapped up together. It is the attentive suspicion that things are not only what they seem to be, that there must be more to them than meets the eye. This suspicion makes parts of the world extremely attractive. But instead of being centered on one human being, as in the case of falling in love, the attraction now extends to things and conditions. Let me give you an example of a case of wonder which has been a recent preoccupation of mine: Take a picture, say a snapshot of a person you care about: How many .words are needed before that picture is so completely described that someone who doesn't know your friend can see him in the mind's eye? Wondering about such a question turns out to draw one into a more and more fascinating affair with words and pictures. There is positive love and there is negative love. Negative love is the kind of involvement that has to begin by denigrating and denying its object so that it can build it up again in its own image. There is certainly personal love of this sort, in which the supposed lover feels compelled to remake the other person so as to feel perfectly safe and certain in the relationship. This negative love, or negative wonder, is called doubt. Doubt, systematic doubt, is the approach to philosophy associated with the name of Descartes. One might say that Descartes is the first modern philosopher - he wrote in the early seventeenth century - and that we moderns have this manipulative, negative love bred in our bones. The purpose of Descartes' philosophical doubt is to achieve certainty. Considering that few things in our ordinary beliefs are clear or distinct and none are certain, he begins by deliberately doubting everything, just to see if there might be one thing left which is indubitable . He does find such a thing: It is the doubter himself, the thµ11.<ing being that does the doubting. For it is clear that he cannot doubt that he is doubting and thinking. So he concludes that one sentence is certainly true: "I think, therefore I am,'' and from this thinking self he then proceeds to develop a world of certainty. I won't follow him in this reconstruction except to say that the world he gets back is not quite the ordinary world, but the world of science. Now the fourth kind of love. If doubt is a kind of negative wonder, it is possible to go one step further along this road. It is possible not only to put a negative sign on wonder but to negate it entirely . It is possible for the sake of the love of truth to try to squash that wonder altogether. This sort of philosophical love, too, exists and What is Philosophy?* Eva Brann "Philosophy" as a word and as an activity has been around almost twenty-four hundred years, so it is no wonder that a lot of technical talk has accumulated around it. But today I want to talk to you about it in the simplest terms and describe it with the boldest strokesmuch as I present something to myself when I want to get the basics clear. The word philosophy has perfectly common uses, of course. People talk of their "philosophy of life," meaning the way things look to them and the rules by which they live. Beauty parlors have a "philosophy of hairstyling'', meaning you pay ten dollars more. But the word has a higher origin, which is Greek, since the Greeks discovered the activity. Notice by the way that I keep saying "activity," not subject. I shall explain why before long. So philosophy is a Greek word which is actually familiar even to those people who would say here that it is all Greek to them . The first part, the "philo-" part, had to do with love, as in Philadelphia, the city of Brotherly Love. The second part, '' sophia, '' is known to us as a women's name and means wisdom. It follows that philosophy originally means ''the love of widom. '' Therefore, if I want to give you an answer to the question which forms my title, What is Philosophy? I have to explain just two small items: love and wisdom. Let me begin, boldly, with the "love" part. To say that some sort of love is involved in philosophy is first of all to say that it involves some sort of passion which is its very own. Somewhere, in some ultimate part, it must be carried on for love and not for money . Since we must all eat, it does not seem wrong to accept money for doing it, though its early practitioners refused to take pay, and most people who feel the passion even a little still make a distinction between the work they get paid for and the cause they serve. It is humanly unavoidable that ambition, the honor that comes from being thought clever or wise, should play a role. And it is positive1y honorable that the love that goes with philosophy should gain *For delivery as a public lecture at Southeastern Louisiana University at Hammond, Louisiana in October, 1989. its devotees special and lasting friendships. But somewhere, somehow, the thing is pursued for its own sake . Now this passion I am talking about has taken various forms in the history of philosophy. Let me set out some six that I can distinguish, and tell you who among the philosophers was particularly alive to each. The first case is quite literal: The passion of philosophy is said to begin with the ordinary-or if you like, extraordinary-condition of falling and being in love. This bold connection is made by Plato, or rather by his character Socrates, in the dialogue called the Phaedrus. It takes account of a psychological factor. In beginning love, there is, for all the desire to get together, a certain inhibiting factor, a sense that the physical appearance of the other person is only a front, a kind of facade that both exposes and hides the real object of love. Someone in love in this way feels the attraction as a kind of labor of love, a search for the being behind the appearance, or, as Socrates puts it, for the god within . Now that search has great similarity with the love of wisdom, as I shall set it out later. In philosophy too the lover looks with deep fascination at the looks of things, but not with the immediate intention of possessing or using them, but rather with the feeling that there is something behind them that is really worth getting at. So first love is a good analogy to philosophy, and in fact, in my own school it is often the freshmen who get themselves most ardently mixed up in difficult love affairs and abstruse metaphysics. The second kind of love is really not so different from the first, but it is less personal. Our ordinary state is to live enmeshed in the goings-on of the world. We may feel embattled or we may feel snug, but it all seems v ery natural and normal to us. I know that in modern times few people accept social inequities and human vice as natural and normal. On the contrary, most of us, certainly in th e universities, live in a constant state of indign ation with these, or, as we say, we " question" them. But there are vast and more fundamental parts of the world which w e don ' t question much at all, such as the solidity of the ground we tread on and the fact that one w ord can name a whole class of things. Now sometimes something happens that breaks through our attitude of taking things for granted. It may has in fact been the most influential passion in recent academic philosophy. Its greatest protagonist is Wittgenstein, who died in 1951. It seemed to him that many of the questions which caused wonder in traditional philosophy are either false questions or unanswerable ones. For example, to go back to the mind's eye I mentioned before: Our language makes us talk about seeing things in our imagination . We are carried away by this manner of speech to talk about images we have in our head and then to wonder what sort of pictures these might be. But this, Wittgenstein thinks, is love's labor lost. We have no good reason to think that we actually have a mind's eye and that it sees mysterious internal pictures. And if we do have such pictures we have no way of showing them to anybody. So better than wonder about invented entities, attend to your use of language. Wittgenstein thinks that our wonder is a sort of pathology for which his careful analysis of language is the therapy. Our puzzlement is like a fly buzzing about in a bottle and philosophy's most honest task is to let the fly out. Here a new love of truth is in mortal combat with the old responses to philosophical wonder. There are other than negative modern ways of being attracted to wisdom. One of these is most worth remembering because it is responsible for the grandest structures philosophy has produced. There is a kind of deeply serious appetite for workmanlike thoroughness, which is expressed in the great philosophical system of Kant. Kant, whose great founding work, The Critique of Pure Reason, was published just about the time of the French Revolution, has a name for this impulse. He calls it the "architectonic" principle. It is the sense that nothing can be done unless it is a part of a well-organized, comprehensive system. Above all, such a system must have a good foundation, and the only trustworthy foundation, for Kant, as for Descartes, is the exposition of the self that knows, or as Kant says, the subject. Kant wrote, in fact, three fundamental works and each has the word "Critique" in the title. That is because critique in those days has nothing particular to do with criticism: It meant an investigation into the powers of knowing of a human being, and the laying of a foundation for scientific knowledge. As Kant himself intimated somewhere: For systematic critical philosophers, love of truth is expressed as a passion for work, the work of a builder, especially a layer of foundations. I must mention one last, the sixth kind of philosophical love, which runs from antiquity through modernity. Probably its greatest representative is the medieval theologian Thomas Aquinas. Some people might argue that philosophy and theology are radically incompatible: a theologian begins with faith and a philosopher with questions. In faith those deepest questions that attract the fascination of the philosopher are already settled. The theologian may do a lot of thinking and reasoning, but not about ultimate matters . This battle has been fought for millennia. Thomas himself has a great deal to say about it. But for present purposes I won't enter 32 J 33 �into the argument but simply assert that the love of a God already accepted by faith can indeed induce a love of wisdom: It seems to be quite possible to have a desire to know in a position of ultimate assurance. To make an analogy: One might explore a great mansion with fascinated interest because one feels like a guest and a stranger and wants to discover its architecture and its plan and its owner. Or one might investigate it with devout interest precisely because one is a child of the house and knows the father who has built it and owns it. So faith too can lead to philosophical love. Well, I have said a lot about the "philo-," the lovepart of philosophy. But of course, that love is a love of something-as the word tells us, of wisdom. So now I come to this wisdom. That, too, is a word of many meanings . Let me give you an example. I have a student back at my college who comes from Ghana, from a little village 140 miles distant from the capital, Accra. The jungle comes close up to the house of my student's father and a river runs by the village. Sebastian-that is his name-had often mentioned the old men of the village in class. Once, when we were at dinner together I asked him if these old men were wise. He said, "O yes, they were wise.'' I asked him what they were wise about. He said that they knew when to plant the sweet potatoes (or something to the same effect). Now the analogue to knowing when to put the potatoes in the ground in a village is something like planting the commas in a student essay in college: I know rum to do that, but no one w calls me wise for it-one would-say I was literate or competent. But of course, that farming know-how is not really what makes Sebastian call thes'e elders wise. He venerates them because they know how to keep the village going in the old ways. If know-how is not wisdom, is it then knowledge of the tradition? No, the wisdom I mean is not knowledge of the old ways and what I might call "the truths of the tribe" either. Those who know the traditions, the myths, the rituals, the conventions ~ and know them not as myths, rituals and conventions but as living truths, sacred rites and life-preserving rituals, certainly know something that is more than worthwhile. They know something invaluable. So I want to take time out here to say a word about the relation of philosophy to tradition. Since the origin of this peculiar enterprise about 500 years before the birth of Christ, there has been a great tension between the philosophers and the bearers of the tradition, as between those who have insight and those who simply carry on in the unthinking ways of their forebearers. Derogatory remarks about ordinary thinking occur in all the founders of philosophy, but it was Socrates who found the aggressively intelligent formulation. He distinguishes three states: knowledge (the wisdom that I am on the way to delineating), a middle thing he calls opinion, and simple ignorance. What he admires most, as a generally achievable condition, is ignorance, or better the knowledge and admission of one's own ignorance: 34 Accordingly, when the divine oracle called him the wisest of the Greeks, he interpreted the god to be expressing his approval of his own favorite saying: ''I know that I know nothing.'' You are probably familiar with the fact that he made it his life's business to be a gadfly to his Athenian fellow citizens, goading and stinging them into-usually unwilling-the admission that they didn't know what they were talking about when it came to the matters they supposedly cared most about, like the difference between good and bad and how to bring up their children. As you know, he was accused of corrupting these same children and of denying the city's gods, and he was executed. That was in 399 B.C. Now if Socrates thought that having opinions was the worst of conditions to be in, worse certainly than having the knowledge, but worse also than beingconsciously-ignorant, this opinion-having must be a very interesting state. What did he mean by it? I think he did indeed mean a state which we spend most of our time in, and which is, when you come to think of it, a fascinating possibility. He means thoughtless thought. Being human seems to mean, among other things, being able to say with a certain conviction what we don't in the least understand. Whenever almost everyone says the same thing-which is called public opinion-that is usually what is taking place: Everyone says it, but hardly anyone is thinking anything much. Let me give you what seems to be the best concrete example of current "opinion": All of us, myself of course included, talk, at the drop of a hat, about our "rights." I have a right to be heard, you have a right to a decently prepared talk, we have a right to safe this or adequate that. We certainly fervently believe it, but who among us can say what we mean except that we feel strongly about it? A person who has thought out this question of rights, who can tell you what are the conditions for having rights and the limits on them is, you will admit, very rare. That is the sort of state that stung Socrates and made him sting his fellow citizens in turn. It seems to me, however, that there are two sorts of states of opinion when we say words without really having thought out what is behind them. You might call them plain and fancy . The fancy sort stems from the intellectuals in the universities or the scientists and technicians. Our current language is full of such borrowed wisdom. For example, who among us hesitates to say that ''society is responsible for this or that'' or ''we are programmed to do this or that?" But this is not natural human talk-it is what we have picked up from our experts of the day . The plan sort comes from an older source, the folk wisdom and common traditions we have learned, such as: "That's just plain the decent thing to do," or "I don't know what drove me to do that," or above all, "No matter who says what, I know right from wrong because my parents brought me up that way.'' Now here is my point: From the beginning philosophers have not made as careful a distinction be- tween the plain and the fancy kind of mere opinion, between the community's traditions and sectarian sophistry, as they might have . When those traditions held strong and were almost unassailable, this aggressive desire to cast a cold eye on the truths of the tribe was understandable and, in fact, admirable because it was valiant - it could cost something. But in our day, it seems to me, things have changed. The critique philosphy practices on society, the enlightenment it has brought to personal opinion, has been so overwhelming a success that it is high time for philosophy to become more inclusive and to begin to preserve and protect what it has hitherto attacked and denigrated . I am saying that traditional wisdom and the wisdom loved in philosphy are still two different things, but philosophy should find ways to encompass and give foundation to the truths of the tribe rather than to withhold its sympathies. I need hardly tell you that very few among those who ply philosophy as a profession would agree with me. Having now told you two things that are not the wisdom I'm after, namely technique or tradition, you might be expecting me to get to the point with a positive answer. But I have two more w isdoms that are not the wisdom of philosophy and that it is particularly important to say something about since we are on the grounds of a university: The wisdom of philosophy is certainly not scholarship . To study carefully and intelligently the books of one or many philosphers is not to do philosophy. Especially studying the history of ideas is not philosphy, even though such course titles are listed under philosophy. It turns out to be very helpful to thinking-though it is not absolutely essential-to have studied such subjects but one should not confuse the study of philosophy with philosophy itself, for two reasons. First, just as the study of the history of painting is not the same as to look at a painting, or to study comparative literature is not the same as to experience a novel, so to run through a string of different philosophers is not the best way to do justice to the thinking of any one of them. But my second reason is much more fundamental. I am really saying that the work of study and the activity of thought are - believe it or not - mutually exclusive. You can't do one without the other, but you shouldn't confuse them either. It is possible to study very hard and think very little . For example, there are great Plato scholars who have no interest in wisdom at all. The other wisdom that is distinguishable from philosophy is science. The tendency nowadays, and as far as I can tell it is a healthy one, is not to make such a deep division betw een science and other human activities. But there are still some pretty strong marks separating science from philosophy. Let me say in the fewest possible words what seems to me to be the most charac- teristic activity of a scientist: A scientist tries to find and to perfect rational models, usually expressible in mathematics, which will predict certain types of phenomena. The model itself, whether it is a set of laws or a geometric construct, is not usually thought of as being real-it is an intellectual construct . And that, it seems to me, is exactly where philosophic wisdom differs: What the philosophers are after is more than a brilliant explanatory device: They want the inner truth of things. No sooner have I said that then I have to modify my statement: It is what philosphers used to want. I have to tell you what you probably already know : Nowadays there is no agreement about what philosophers ought to want, and, as I have already pointed out, there is a vigorous and event brilliant movement by professional philosophers-a phrase that is, incidently, a contradiction in terms-to put an end to philosophy. I do not think this movement will succeed because one of the various kinds of positive philosphical love always springs up again. So what then are these lovers of wisdom after? As you might have guessed, the answer it as simple as it is vague . They are after some steadfast knowledge of whatever is beneath, behind, beyond the ordinary world, something that will give it coherence and significance. A first reaction to this way of putting it might be to think philosophy is after "abstractions," generalities. But that does not do the longing justice, since it is for something more potent and more steady than the things we see before us, something richer, not poorer than the world that appears. Of course, I could become more specific and give the names and descriptions of all the objects of wisdom that philosophers have pursued, such as Forms, Ideas, Things-in-themselves, but then I would be myself plying the sort of philosophical survey in which I was expressing my lack of faith above. But there is an even better reason why it is not altogether wrong to mention such philosophical aims even without quite specifying and understanding their actual objects. Recall the meaning of the word ph ilosoph y with which I started. Philosophy means the love of wisdom. Ever since the invention of the word in the sixth century B.C., people have periodically pointed out that philosophy is the love, not the possession, of wisdom. A philosopher is therefore one who longs for wisdom, not one who is wise, one who searches for knowledge and thereby admits not having it. Accordingly when talking philosophically, it is quite appropriate to talk about things one has a glimpse of a hope for, but maybe not any firm grasp on. And that is certainly what I have been doing tonight. 35 �Gubbio' s Festa dei Ceri William Ney (GI '82) The Italian peninsula's only landlocked region produces a world-class wine in Orvieto, voices and chocolates of reknown in Perugia, attracts Beautiful People everywhere with its arts festival in Spoleto, and cherishes one of the great churches in Christendom- and one of the most important and stunning collections of early Renaissance art- in Assisi. Despite these glories, however, foreign visitors often recall Umbria, 'Italy's Green Heart ' by the guidebooks, as the place they were most glad to both see and leave behind. No town in Umbria suffers more this reaction than ancient Gubbio . Founded by the Umbrian people, who came to Italy centuries before the Etruscans, Gubbio was thriving when Rome was a hamlet, and in 1151 defeated an alliance of eleven cities to re-affirm itself as a power in the north. The quarters that comprise the city proper have weathered the subsequent 800 years with little change . Today the great number of its people, the eugubini, live in medieval museum pieces built of a distinctive pale granite. Perhaps no other city in Italy, including Siena, has preserved so much of its medieval self, and this beauty is what attracts Gubbio' s modest share of the tourist trade. Yet Gubbio is small enough to see in a day, and the tensile, resonant pottery for which it is also wellknown is no reason to stay overnight. Moreover, when the skies and hills turn grey, as they often do throughout 'Mysterious Umbria, ' the limpid granite can suddenly remind one of a pauper's tombstone, and the city seem an enormous mausoleum. Memories of the brighter hills of Tuscany and the vitality of the Renaissance are apt to send the typical tourist packing, suddenly less than charmed with the Middle Ages. There is, however, a better reason to vist Gubbio than to climb among its medieval structures. Each May, the eugubini honor their patron saints, Ubald, George, and Anthony, by observing perhaps the most vital and astonishing series of rituals in Italy- and again, Siena has not been forgotten . The Feast of the Candles attracts Italians from all over the north, and fills several pages the next day of Milan's Corriere Della Sere, Italy's international newspaper. In recent years the television cameras have observed. Only in Jessup, Pennsylvania, U. S.A., does anything like Gubbio' s Festa dei Ceri take place, and, as l one eugubino put it, "In Jessup it is sport. Here it is heart." In Gubbio there is also a mountain . It first seem s odd that the town sits low on the shoulder of Monte Ingino, rather than on top . But two other mountains closely flank each side, Calvo to the north, Gerolamo to the south, and one appreciates that the town's defensive posture in wartime was more than adequate. And perhaps Providence played a part in the Umbrian designs, for in the Christian era Ingino's summit was capped with a basilica dedicated to Ubaldo, a beloved Bishop and civic leader. Today the saint himself rests inside the fortress chapel, in a glass coffin, and nearby, leaning against the wall, are the three ceri that become so important in May. Cera means wax, and cero candle. The ceri (pronounced 'cherry', rolling the 'r') of Gubbio, however, are ornate, octagonal wooden pillars, very heavy and fifteen feet tall when topped with a statue of one of the three saints. Such a candle is not burnt, but rather borne, by gaily bedight men dashing madly through the streets and up Mt. Ingino to Ubaldo's fortress . A casual hiker takes perhaps twenty-five minutes to climb from the high city gate to the summit. It takes the bearers of the ceri, the ceraioli, eight minutes to make the same trip, burden upon their shoulders. This frenetic run, La Corsa dei Ceri, on the fifteenth of May, is the climax of the festa, and the event that captures the imagination of Italians throughout the penninsula. Every m an, woman, an d child of Gubbio is a member of one of the three saintly families . Ubaldo was of old the patron of the stonemasons, Giorgio of the merchants of town, and Antonio of the countrymen, the contadini, and students . All participants in the madness of the fifteenth- ceraioli, musicians, flower children, and enthusiastic spectators- will wear white pants and red kerchiefs, and distinguish themselves with their shirts; the Santubaldari don yellow, the Sangiorgiari blue, and Santantoniari black. The first movement of the festa begins late in the morning on the first Sunday of May, la Prima Domenica di Maggio, and in contrast to the corsa is a gracious affair. To the cheers of gathered townsfolk, the ceri emerge from Ubaldo' s basilica and are carried down the mountain in a leisurely procession. Marching bands lead each family in civil and sacred songs, while upstarts among the crowd 37 �initiate the profane . There is laughter, and perhaps some wine. On this day the ceri are carried horizontally, and the youngest children, in their uniforms, ride twenty at a time astraddle the pillars with bright black eyes, holding long, droopy lilies in their hands-surely ?ne of t~e warmest sights in Italy, and a lovely way to begin explaining the complex meaning of the common adjective "simpatico." La Prima Domenica e simpatica. . During the next week or two, preparation~ £.or th~ holiday pre-occupy and agitate the placid eugubim. ui:1forms are bought, refitted, and repaired. The three family taverns, large complexes of rooms and courtyards open only on feast days, are stocked with f~od and :-"i:1e. The great bell in the tower of the Consuls Palace is mspected and exercised. Meanwhile, high above even the ever placid Ubaldo, the bald crown of Monte Calvo goes from grey to green, telling one that grass grows where trees cannot. At dawn on the Fifteenth, three bands of drummers pass through the streets beating an ominous ta~o?, and the eugubini awake. When the armies of cerai?ll have mustered two-hundred and fifty or so per family, they are prese~ted by the sleepy young girls of town with small bouquets of local wildflowers, white hawthorn and violet, reenacting, it seems, the old send-off to war. Origene Rogari, a native, has written a small book.on the ceri, and records the lyric of a song traditional to this early morning exchange. First the men sing: "When Signorina marries, I'll give to her in turn a basket of lilies and roses ." "Surely," the girls sing in reply. "But with the permission of the husband." "Tomorrow I'll press this little bouquet between the pages of a book, which I'll leaf through until the day I die, and think o~ her." . ,, "If it hasn' t first been burnt by the iealous wife. "If it withers too badly I'll give it to the mother-in-law." By mid-morning a procession of the saints is winding its way through town, led on horsebac~ by t~e gra~d old Capitano of the Company of Horse, all m white, with a red sash, and brandishing with gusto an antique sword. The statues of the saints, wh ich will soon be affixed atop the ceri, are carried by a select band of ceraioli, chief among whom are the three Captains of the Ten, the men chosen that year to lead their families in the corsa. Each Capo Die~i carries a large amphora, broccha, specially made for th~s day, and decorated with the signs and colors of his patron. It should be noted that in this, as in all the processions of the festa, the retinue of Ubaldo is always first, then that of Giorgio, then Antonio. Even in the fury of the corsa this order is never violated, for unlike the competions of Siena's Palio, Gubbio's 'run' is n~t a race. A member of the Sangiorgiari would be scandalized by the suggestion that his patron's cero should overtak~ Ubaldo's: Ubaldo must be first, Antonio always last. Vi- sitors often discover this during the course of the day, and Americans especially may consider it conclusive evidence of madness among the eugubini: are the fury and pain entirely without point? But the native reply, remember, is that the corsa is a matter of heart, not sport. In 1977, the fathers of the three families declared If on a sad day this name [Family) co.mes to signify a fu~­ row of pride and fraternal division, the Cen will have lost what s truest and most precious about them . Unlike American-schoolboy football, the corsa is not thought of as training for life in the business world. It is not a dramatic, dynamic image of ''Work Hard and Get Ahead." The business of Gubbio, one realizes, may not be business. One stumbles upon cities here and there throughout Europe that seem essentially static and in balance without seeming poor, and one appreciates the communal experience and discipline that lie behind such appearances. In post-war times, new industry has come to Umbria, and Perugia is as hectic at rush hour as prosperous Padua and Milan. But in Gubbio, which is neither backward, poor, nor rich, the idea of progress seems to have never quite caught on. The eugubini know well the resources of their city and of the large, out-lying commune, and they live, accordingly, an Italian life in which food and conversation are as important as anything, a life the meaning of which seems apparent and the basis . of no good question. Yet ''The Madmen of Gubbio'' is an appellation familiar throughout Umbria, and one of the first things a visitor will be told by these garrulous people is that they, the eugubini, are indeed mad. Rogari writes : Joyous and vital spirit, natural intelligene without hubris, we are also lovers, thanks to our cheerful, cordial character. The Madmen of Gubbio? This doesn't offend us at all, for as a people of spirit and such innocent insanity, we bid go.o d luck one and all to humanity's sages . This madness has its own 'diploma,' far more desirable and in demand than the usual decorations and laurels Ad Honorem. A visitor can earn the eugubino Certificate of Madness by accompanying a native to The Madmen's Fountain, in Bargello Square, and partaking there in a time-honored ritual. The eugubini are generally simpatici, friendly, gracious, honorable, and loveable, both among themselves and with visitors. There are no homeless on the perfectly clean streets, few doors are ever locked, and- ano:~er anomaly among Italian towns in general- e:en pohh~s fail to disturb the peace . A young commum st puts his arm around an older man, and with a wry smile informs a visitor that the latter is a fascist. "It's not what you think,'' the older man assures one with an embarassed laugh. A social democrat jumps in to plant a kiss on the fascisti cheek, and the three return to the business at hand, to wit, teaching the visitor both the proper and vulgar phrases with which to approach the young women- the latter of which, of course, are never to be used. Animosity smoulders, when it exists, and is deeply personal. Late in the war, Italian partisans killed two soldiers in the occupying German army, and forty eugubini men were shot in reprisal. The partisans became in peacetime the Communist Party, and today, the aging widow of one of the Forty Martyrs bitterly insists she is a fascist, having never forgiven her countrymen their senseless provocation, and deeming meaningless her public alignment with the exexecutioners of her husband. There is little in Gubbio to disturb such dispositions or habits of thought, and little occasion for fresh controversy. It is proud and aware of, and promotes, its insularity, and is thereby able to maintain the balance and beauty of its life. It is then quite understandable that a profound anxiety often infects those eugubini who go away, perhaps to school, and see life in Milan, or Rome, or Paris, or America. They see wild growth, and seeming potential without limit. Tension develops between the nurtured deep love and need of the eugubini equilibrium, and the newly stimulated, perhaps innately human, urge to get ahead. Perhaps then the gloominess that tourists often experience in Gubbio is due not only to the somber granite and skies, but also to having apprehended this sublime anxiety in the eugubini, and to having experienced it themselves, having experienced the contrast of a beautiful and balanced life with their own. A suggestion of an answer, then, to the question of the baffled tourist: the point of la corsa dei ceri, this race no race, may be to embrace the given hierarchy and one's place therein, be you Sant' Ubaldo, San Giorgio, or Sant' Antonio, to celebrate with conscious pride the given way of life, and to express as a community common values and the will that they endure, that the beautiful life recur over and over again . The corsa is symbolically pointless, and symbolic of something eternal. The notion of progress- of getting beyond, to something or somewhere new- has no place. The mid-morning procession concludes by eleven, when the statues dei santi are taken up a sweeping stairway into one of Umbria' s m ost remarkable monuments, the Consuls' Palace, Il Palazzo dei Consuli, built in the 1300s by Matteo Gattapone, eugubino and architect. Inside, the ceri have been waiting since the First Sunday. Never yet since their reappearance on that day have the ceri been upright . The moment of their raising, the Alzata, perhaps the most exultant and mad of the entire feast, and is preceded in the great Piazza della Signoria, next to the palace, by an interminable series of introductions, handshakes, and declarations-Mayor to Capitano, Capitano to Bishop, Bishop to Father of the Sanubaldari, etc.-all such dignitaries dressed in their idiosyncratic, High Feast garb. Directly overhead, in the palace tower, young men dare to stand upon the great bell and in that way set it in motion. The tolling is a dull shudder. Lighter bells are ringing everywhere in churches around town, while on the piazza each movement of the pageant is ac- companied by screaming, drums, and clear blasts from the walls of the palace portico where men in red smocks and white leotards press to their lips long and elegant silver trumpets . With relish, the crowd approaches its frenzy, overflowing from the plaza down tributary streets. On other days a fine view into the plain of Gubbio' s private vale can be had, looking out over the long western wall of the plaza, but not today. Every window, every roof, the palazzo battlements-all seats are taken. The vantage points are well known, not having changed in over five hundred years. Near the piazza wall, in comparative order, stand perhaps half of each ceraioli army. Each holds in readiness a barella, the base and handles to which the cero will be fixed. Barella means stretcher, but instead of a cot between the twelve-foot rails, those of Gubbio have a wooden crosspiece, with a hole in its center to receive the cero stem. The parade of dignitaries is complete when the Capi Dieci have emerged from the palace, one at a time and in the proper order, and join the crowd, still carrying the large amphorae. The three statues follow, and now the eugubini are one, in an incessant scream, i santi, i santi, Sant' Ubaldo, San Giorgio, Sant'Antonio. The fey Capitano is again on horseback, hewing antique Romans right and left, the joy of battle upon him. Built upon four immense arches, revolutionary in their time, the elevated piazza shudders not a whit beneath all this, but the roar and crush of the crowd will throw the unprepared visitor off his feet as the great doors of the palace are thrown fully open and the cero of Ubaldo comes flowing down the stairway on a tide of yellow shirts. Those who bear it are grim-faced and blind to anyone in their way. The Master of Ceremonies screams for dear life into his microphone, il Cera di San Giorgio, il Cera di San Giorgio, and a river of blue gushes forth from the palace. The Ubaldo Capo is hoisted seven feet in the air, to stand on the crosspiece of the barella, which is held upright, perpendicular to the plaza floor. The cero is brought in from behind for coupling . It fits imperfectly into the barella's steel collar, and so the Capo throws himself back and forth at the hips, wriggling the stretcher to aid the union. When the thing is done, he is handed up the broccha and pours a libation upon the new joint, both to bless it and to tighten it, for the water causes the wooden stem to swell. When the Antonio crew completes the same rite, the Alzata has come. The Capi Dieci remain on their perches, holding the empty pitchers in one hand and steadying themselves with the other. A signal is given and several things happen at once. Everyone screams. Each Capo tosses his amphora high into the air, into the crowd near the center of the plaza. Sometimes the pitchers are half caught, sometimes someone gets one on the head and is taken to the hospital when things quiet down, but always in the end they smash to the brick and 39 38 �shatter into a million pieces. Despite the imminent danger, people dive to their knees for the souvenir shrapnel. The top half of each cero is given a great heave skyward-"L'Alzata!"-and the saints are suddenly twenty feet in the air. As the barelle snap to the horizontal, the three Captains are thrown forward into the crowd, and th~se with faith and elan are able to give themselves up, to plummet earthward in graceful swan dives. Loyal ceraioli catch them, as others assume the characteristic position along the stretcher rails, and perhaps three seconds after the signal to begin i ceri di Gubbio are off and running. At full, shocking speed they circle the flagpole, like Hollywood Indians around a ring of hapless pioneers. The spectators caught in the middle are indeed at risk, for the tight knot moves in deference to the will of the whirling ceri, and underfoot are those scrambling for pottery chips of the proper color. Trip and fall and the crowd may slip away, like a wave from a beach, leaving one face to face with the raging ceraioli. After three turns, the disturbance pours out of the piazza, and the ceri separate for relaxed and unprescribed parades through town, during which any man, woman, or child may take hold of a rail and bear a cero. By two o'clock, the three have been reunited near the Stonemason's Church on Via Savelli della Porta, and are abandoned there, left standing upright on ornate wooden pedestals. It's time for lunch . The second meal of the day in Italy is the big meal. Businesses and banks are generally closed by one, to reopen at four, and those in small towns sometimes fail to reopen-something to keep in mind when planning menus and shopping. Most eugubini repair to their homes for lunch on the Fifteenth, but the ceraioli and city officials are feasted in the Consuls' Palace. The former, at least, with their strenuous trial only hours away, would seem to have good reason to eat lightly, and Rogari writes that the meal is by tradition one of fish, in solemn observance of the vigil of Ubaldo' s death. Having taken such notice, however, one peruses the menu of the 1987 Banchetto dei Ceri, and finds roasted crayfish, broiled mussels au gratin, and a sweet and sour "Seafood Caprice" for starters, a house rice dish (Risotto del Palazzo) and scampi, salmon steaks with artichokes and butter, broiled sole, french fries, a salad with anchovies, and Fantasia al Marachino and a liquored-up marscapone for dessert. To wash all this down, the soldiers proceed with Peroni Beer, eugubino white wine, Cinzano Asti Spumante, and a liquer made in Gubbio named "Monte Ingino," of which the people are very proud. Of such a feast, Rogari writes One might say that it is a symbol of generous eugubina hospitality . But not only a symbol. It is also a reality, all the more happy and appetizing that it is not down there, in the cellar of the great hall, where gloomy sarcophagi bring to mind that eternal maxim "Momenta mori." Crowds outside stand and stare at the ceri. Rogari quotes a head-scratching visitor ignorant of what he has stumbled upon this day in Gubbio: "The things of mad40 men, obviously, but what do they do with them?" The eugubine women seem authentically taken with the ceri, and actually served as ceraioli during the leanest years of the Second World War, walking instead of running. Today they play in the marching bands, and drink, eat and dance at night. A visitor ask,s them "Do you wish you could be a bearer?" and is answered "Are you mad?" Rogari suggests that their feelings towards the corsa range from pride and awe to disdain, dismay, and fear, and that a prayer that begins "Sant' Ubaldo, let the ceri run well ... " is their prayer for the safety of their husbands. Indulging in domestic comedy, perhaps, he also offers this as characteristic of the advice of a wife to her ceraiolo spouse: Behave honorably but be prudent! Don' t be a fanatic and above all don ' t drink too much . Put off your drunk until tomorrow and I'll give you a 'push' of our own, without a cero. Young children are allowed to climb upon the pedestals and barelle, while men no longer able to serve mill about, complaining of old age, rheumatism, and numb shoulders. By four-thirty, the banquet has ended and the ceraioli are parading to Via Savelii. Another procession issues from the town's odd cathedral, featuring another statue of Ubaldo, the vestments of which people reach up to touch, murmurring prayer. The living Bishop carries the true relics of the patron, with which he'll bless the ceri i ceraioli. The first leg of the corsa is all downhill, and runs along Gubbio' s Main Street, the Corso Garibaldi, newly renamed for the hero of the 1860 unification. A huge statue of Ubaldo enthroned crowns the top of the Corso, reminding one of Abe Lincoln in his Washington monument. The colorful children scramble upon its shoulders and lap for the best seats in town. Other wily ragazzi may try to sell a likely-looking visitor a window or foot and handholds in the walls along the way. The houses throughout town stand shoulder to shoulder, without alleys, and many butt without curbs right upon the street, leaving narrow channels of stone which are filled now with the happy impatience that Americans awaiting fireworks on the Fourth of July exude. Cheers from the higher part of town provoke more of the same here, but the older eugubini merely wag their heads; false rumor is the rule. Then a scream rises and refuses to die, and all eyes are glued upon the festooned Ubaldo. And there they are! Rounding Via Dante onto Garibaldi! They take the corner on two wheels, so to speak, listing like a freighter in a storm, and the fear of a fall-"Un caduto!"-grips the crowd. Some can' t bear to watch, others only scream louder, and one sees that the street is so packed here below that the ceri will tumble; but a lane clears just in time, a small envelope just long and wide enough to allow passage. Close up, the strain upon the bearers is memora- bly clear. The shock falls upon the collarbones and neck, despite an attempt to absorb it with the hands . Some grimace so fiercely as to completely disfigure their red faces, while others have gone completely slack and white, so stricken it seems that they're about to faint-and indeed, some do collapse when relieved of duty. One cannot get enough of the sight, it passes too quickly. Try perhaps to follow along behind, but the crowd intervenes, and then the ceri are already distant. The saints snap sharply back and forth as if too impatient for words; a comical sight, especially for Ubaldo with his flowing golden dress and staff-"I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date ... " Giorgio rides a horse, a blue and silver cape flapping in the breeze, while Antonio shakes and rattles along in the black habit of a monk. While ten is the official number of men per ceri, there are usually more involved at any given moment, due both to ad hoc participation-perhaps by those who had decided this year to give up the struggle but who find themselves unable to do so, for passion or shame, as the cero passes-and to the fact that the crews of ceraioli change, in stride, every hundred yards or so, depending on the terrain; it simply isn't possible to go further at such speed. This fluid shiftwork the bearers must engage in is a wonder to behold, and explains why the armies are so large, as well as how it might be possible to run a thousand pounds of awkward wood up a mountain in eight minutes. Within the city there are three legs to the corsa, each followed by a brief rest that allows the crews-and spectators-to re-position themselves along the route. Including the ascent up Ingino, then, each ceraiolo partakes in four nasty, brutish, and short dashes. If there were more eugubini, perhaps there would be fewer rest stops, but then, too, the three falls of Christ, on his passage through Jerusalem to the Mountain of Skulls, are nicely figured the way things are. II Caduto-should it come-is the event that will receive the most attention in talk that evening and in the weeks to follow. The possibility of such a collapse introduces into the corsa its only taste of competitive sport. In 1987, forty yards down the Corso Garibaldi-beneath the very eyes of the great stone Ubaldo-un caduto ripe for controversy occurred. Having negotiated the difficult corner, the Giorgio crew seemed in control when its right side stumbled and gave way, quickly dragging the left to its knees and chests as well. Yet they managed to hold onto the barella, and the cero did not fall. The blameless Santantoniari were not so lucky . Unable to come to a controlled stop before the obstacle suddenly in their path, they fell off to the left and down came the cero, slashing like an oak, crashing into a house and decapitating St. Anthony. Men and women cried as if witnessing the execution of their sons. The Sanubaldari, however, leapt in triumph like boxers, pounding the air with their fists. In sober moments commiseration will replace such shameless pride, but in the heat of the corsa one sees eugubino blood flowing. By grace, Antonio's head was preserved, dangling from its collar, and during the first stop, at the base of Via Cairoli, was returned to its place. The disturbance has now reached the level of the plain. The second leg runs along even ground, into the Plaza of the Forty Martyrs (where all buses to Gubbio drop their passengers), through the public gardens, and into San Martino, by repute the maddest of the quarters. Here, in truth, begins the ascent up Ingino, within the city, up Via dei Consoli. The second rest is taken just below the great piazza that at noon had witnessed the alzata, and when the run resumes, the whirling about the flagpole, le birate, is repeated. The ceraioli are exhausted, and the road will only steepen, up Via Arpennino and along the city wall to the high gate. Up above, the mountain swarms with eugubini. Climbing the road, one sees a smooth granite plaque laid into the rough stone of the mountainside. A terza from Dante is here inscribed, from the Paradiso, in which Thomas Aquinas begins to tell of the blessed marriage of St. Francis and Poverty. Intra Tupino e l'acqua che discende Del colle eletto dal beato Ubaldo Fertile costs d'alto monte pende Between Tupino and the water that falls From the chosen hill of blessed Ubaldo There hangs from a high peak a fertile slope The expression is left unfinished, for the next lines name Perugia, often a bitter enemy in milennia past. The 'high peak' referred to is Assisi's Subasio, and a visitor naturally takes the 'chosen hill' to be Monte Ingino, and 'l' acqua' to be the Camignano, a torrent that runs along its north face into Gubbio. But for Dante scholars, even the facts of geography become doubtful. Some say that in truth Aquinas speaks of the river Chiascio, which flows from a peak northeast of Gubbio that Ubaldo has chosen for the construction of a retreat; and, indeed, Mt. Subasio sits six kilometers from the confluence of the Tupino and Chiasco. Most eugubini scholars, however, insist that Dante meant the Camignano, and hence the plaque upon their mountain. It was customary during several medieval centuries for Italian cities to select an outsider as their executive, hoping such a man would rule fairly having no personal interest in local affairs . Gubbio provided Florence with over a dozen such Podeste, one of whom, Gabrielli, ordered Dante into permanent exile. The poet's life thereafter is murky water, but there is some basis for the claim that he passed thorugh Gubbio while looking for a place to live. Townspeople today still point to a window, on Via Dante, to identify the place where he slept, and Francesco Picotti, in a fragmented and undated history of the city, writes that Dante stayed "in the Guelfoni house and at the Colmollaro palazzo, and Bosone Raffaelli, in his palazzo, twice welcomed his friend Alighieri. From there he retired to A vellana ... "-where much of the Comedy was written. In the poem, Dante finds the eugu.bino painter 41 �Oderisi doing laps around Monte Purgatorio, bent double by a large stone upon his back-this the appropriate penance for having been too Proud of his art during life. He shouts out to Dante, who crouches to look him in the face. "Hey," I said to him, "aren't you Oderisi, The glory of Gubbio, the glory of that art Called 'illuminating' in Parisi?" The painter calls Dante 'brother' and talks his ear off, and at one point the poet feels censured-thankfully so-for his own pride . But contemporary critics find no support in their apparent acquaintance with it for the claim that Dante came to Gubbio, since Oderisi spent most of his active life at the university in Bologna and at Rome. And Mario Apollonio, a contemporary scholar at the university in Perugia- the old enemy- has this to say: It's more than curious that a name and a place like Gubbio should be connected in such a particular way with the fortunes of Dante. Was there nurtured perhaps in this portrait of the garrulous Oderisi a commentary on the commune [of Gubbio] itself, on a particular attitude of its people? Was there presaged perhaps a not-so-distant future? Did Dante here stir and deepen his personal resentment for one of the leaders of the Blacks in Florence, an architect of their coup, and his unfair judge, Cante Gabrielli? a resentment, even, for that insufferable style of language that he knew from the songs of Castra? As it happened, the eugubini repaid this complex attitude with an arbitrary documentation of the poet's sojourn in Gubbio, with puerile falsehoods, with a bona fide legend that is clearly a transparent legend ...pious and contradictory tampering ... The ancient feuds go on, history no less serious a pursuit today than soccer. There were two disastrous archive fires in Gubbio, during the Guelf/Ghibeline strife that by 1384 led to its surrendering its freedom to the Montefeltri of Urbino . For this reason, among others, the history of the ceri is no better documented than that of Dante, and no less flamboyantly and passionately pursued. In the year 800, a visitor from France, the first and newly-crowned Emperor of the West, Charlemagne, was so pleased with the eugubina hospitality that he presented the people with a great gift and true relic: the finger of John the Baptist. From then until the passing of Ubaldo, it seems, John was the city's protector. Rogari says that candle-lit processions in John's honor took place in Gubbio, featuring flowers, gonfalone, and offerings of wax, an expensive, cherished, and sometimes sacred commodity. He allows the assumption that soon after 1160 such festas were celebrated in Ubaldo' s name, but what he vehemently refuses is the suggestion that their candelabras, waxen gifts, and tall, wooden poles metamorphosed into the ceri of today. Professor Piero Luigi Menichetti, eugubino, has recently published a very thorough history of the festa. The oldest document he finds referring to sacred candle processionsin Gubbio is dated June 28, 1199. On that day the Consul of Cagli, Acursus Bonus, signed a paper subjecting his city to Gubbio that also required h,i m to come and carry a ceremonial candle, "unum Cereum bonum et oratum," each year during the festival of St. Ubaldo. Menichetti concludes his five-hundred page, silk-bound investigation with six concise statements, one of which reads "the 1982 edition of the Corsa dei Ceri will be the 823rd." Assuming yearly runs, this places the first in 1160. For ten days in 1160, the beloved and famous Bishop Ubaldo lay stricken on his deathbed, during which time the eugubini gathered and came bearing candles to his home, offering their love and prayers, and asking forgiveness for past offenses- opportunities for which had been plenty . Ubaldo died on May 16th, and for a year thereafter candle-lit processions went daily to his tomb. Canonization came quickly, in 1192. Gubbio was then leaning Guel£, to the Pope-betraying, in a manner of speaking, the current Holy Roman Emperor, Henry VI. Fearing the sacrilege of Henry' s soldiers, who regularly came pouring through the Apennines via the nearby Flaminian Way, the eugubini rebuilt as a fortress the ruined Oratory of St. Gervasio, atop Ingino, and secured there the remains of their saint. By 1194, then, things were in place for the running of a corsa as it runs today. But wax is not wood. Writers have long been suggesting that the first ceri were trophies of the famous 1151 war, in which eleven cities, led by Perugia, laid long seige to the town. (Ubaldo it was who inspired the eugubini to endure, and who came up with the nifty strategem that finally routed the enemy .) Abandoned in the plain outside the walls, the theory goes, were the sanctified, ox-drawn wooden tanks, carroccio, that were so often the focus and arbiters of medieval battles, and from which rose tall masts bearing standards and icons. Perhaps the first ceri came to Gubbio as the legendary horse to Troy. Rogari reports, however, that carroccii were not common until the 13th century . And Menichetti concludes: The Heroic Hypothesis is not sustainable, because it is deprived of documentation, because there is not much similarity between carroccii and ceri, and above all because the three ceri were for more than four centuries huge votive candles of wax' Rogari seems so mew hat at odds with his colleague townsman, although they stand shoulder-to-shoulder when it comes to .speculation without documentation: In this case-even though the argument leads back in the end to an origin both Christian and patronal, offerings of ceri in honor of S. Ubaldo-there is not a single document that details the transformation from wax to wood. History is based on documents. If not, it is Pre-history. Until the blessed day of judgement I will remain in the most legitimate and obstinate sense of the word a Positivist. One wonders, perhaps, what all the shooting is about. The arguments most eugubini would like to forestall are those that lead back in the end to origins B. C.. Gubbio became an avowedly Christian city some- time between 250 and 400 A .D., after perhaps more than fifteen centuries of Umbrian and then Roman pagan life. Several ancient authors, including Pliny, report that the Umbrians were the oldest inhabitants of the peninsula, while modern day scientists for the most part agree that they were invaders from the north, relatives of the Latins, the Sabines, and the Samnites, and were established in today's Umbria and Tuscany by the beginning of the Iron Age. Ikuvio was the name of Umbrian Gubbio. A legend claims that the city was one of the first five built in Italy after the great flood, and that Noah's grandson Gamero Gallo was the founder. The picotti who detailed Dante's bedspots in Gubbio writes that King Bobbio, 432 years after the fall of Troy, and 750 before the birth of Jesus, built magnificent catacombs beneath the city for his wife, whom by oracle had been doomed to death by lightning. About this time, the Etruscans were settling in, invading the homeland of the Ombrikoi if Herodotus is right, and then came the bloody Celts. By 300 B.C., the Latins, become Romans, were enforcing a sort of peace in central Italy. Then came the elephants ... Among the many legends and histories and scientific facts, there sit today in the civic museum, in the Palazzo dei Consuli, seven very reliable tablets of purified bronze, undeniable souvenirs of Gubbio's pagan life. Discovered in 1444, in an underground chamber beyond the city walls, the oldest are inscribed with the Latin-like Umbrian language, and date perhaps to 400 B. C.. They record the rites of the priestly Brotherhood of the Ateidi, the religious and perhaps political authority of Ikuvio. Ikuvio seems to have been the sacerdotal center of the Umbrian culture, of a very loosely bound confederation of cities that was entering its old age . By the time the youngest tablets were cut, around 70 B.C., most Umbrians were solid citizens of the tottering Roman Republic, and the assimilation of the (assimilated) Roman religion and their own was well-developed. Some of the ceremonies described on the Iguvine Tablets are strikingly similar to those known to have taken place under the auspices of the A vrales Brotherhood, in Rome . To detail the procedures for purifying the city and its people was the chief concern of the Tablets' authors, perhaps because the old ways were being lost. Jupiter Grabovi is the deity to whom prayers ''for the Fisian Hill, for the Iguvine State, for the name of this hilt for the name of this state," are to be addressed, in a solemn, repetitive litany similar to that of the Roman jurists whom Cicero wryly observed, and of today's more traditional Christian celebrants. Before the Lustratio Populi can begin, the head priest, the Flamen, must be sure no barbarians or hostile Umbrians stand within the walls . Three times he expels the aliens: Whoever is of the Tadinate state, of the Tadinate tribe, of the Etruscan, Naharcan, Japudiscan name, must go out from this people. If this people goes not forth, if anyone be caught, take him to that place which it is the law, and do to him that which is the law. A command is issued to those whom, in the face of such threats, remain: "Be drawn up in order, be arranged in companies, Iguvines!" The Flamen then leads a procession of subordinates and sacrificial victims three times around the ordered muster. Each time the deity Cerre Mars is called upon to plague the enemy : Alarm, make to tremble, destroy, abolish, wound, cripple, bind hand and foot, the Tadinate State, the Tadinate tribe, the Etruscan, the Naharcan, the Japudiscan name, the nobles girt, not girt, the young men armed with spears, those without spears, of the Tadinate State, of the Tadinate tribe, of the Etruscans ... Boars and sows, "red or black," are sacrificed at specified places around town, while at other times oxen, dogs, sheep, and the young of each serve as victims . Every movement is prescribed, as fastidiously as those of a Japanese Tea ceremony. Libations pour from ceremonial vessels, which are then smashed, and the pieces collected and offered up in prayer: "Cerre Martie, direct by every way harm to the Tadinate State, to the Tadinate tribe, to the Etruscan, Naharcan, Japudiscan name ... '' Tadinate State, incidentally, is today a thriving Umbrian town, Gualdo Tadino, for which one finds mong the eugubini an unreasonable disdain. The lustration of the people climaxes with the running of three heifer-calves through the streets and down to the Forum, which an American, Ireme Rosenzweig, Ph.D ., guesses is today the Plaza of Forty Martyrs . The townsfolk are called upon to catch the animals, which are then sacrificed by the Flamen to end the rite. There is, of course, much food here for an imagination probing the origins of the ceri. Are the mutated spiritual offspring of the family of Gods entitled Cerre running through the streets of Gubbio each Spring on the proud and pious shoulders of the eugubini? Rosenzweig concludes her presentation of the Tablet lustrations with a brief account of the Festa dei Ceri. At the bottom of it all we may be sure there is hidden avestige of the ancient Ikuvium and its life in the days before Christianity had made its appearance. It is to the lustratio arcis and populi, the most important ceremonies of this district in antiquity, that one would naturally look for the ultimate origin of the Festa of the Ceri, whatever may have been the steps through which it passed in the course of its development. Such conclusions, undocumented yet invested with the rhetorical power of the quasi-sciences of the 19th and 20th century, are what infuriate so many of the eugubini scholars and poeple on the street. And no one has infuriated more than Herbert Bower, an English visitor to Guggio in the 1890s . He participated as a ceriaolo in two corsas, and was a student of folk-lore, an anthropologist . Naturally, he wrote a book. Frazer's The Golden Bough was then new to the world, and served Bower and many 43 �others as a basis of speculation far more reaching than that which the Iguvine Tablets alone support. The private ceremonies of the Ateidi Brotherhood, after all, took place outside of town, in a secret Arvum, a sacred wood. Tree worship seems to have occurred in primitive societies everywhere on earth . Springtime processions, featuring a freshly cut tree and people dressed in leaves and flowers, brought to the town and the fields the spirit of vegetation, and its blessing. If a May-Pole endured through several seasons, replacing fresh trees, it was often topped with a fresh birch or the like-as the saints now top the ceri of Gubbio. In 204 B. C., the Roman Republic, weary of Hannibal, sent out to Asia minor for the goddess Cybele, Phrygian Mother of the Gods. Her 'body,' a black stone, was brought from Pessinus and placed in a temple on the Palantine Hill. The harvest that fall was better than any in recent memory, and Hannibal was gone within a year . Frazer records the spring festival of her son Attis, god of vegetation, celebrated that year in Rome: A pine-tree was cut in the woods and brought into the sanctuary of Cybele, where it was treated as a great divinity. The duty of carrying the sacred tree was entrusted to a guild of TreeBearers. The trunk was swathed like a corpse with woolen bands and decked with wreaths of violets, for violets were said to have sprung from the blood of Attis ... ; and the effigy of a young man, doubtless Attis himself, was tied to the middle of the stem. On the second day, ...the chief ceremony seems to have been a blowing of trumpets. The third day ... was known as the Day of Blood: the high priest drew blood from his arms and presented it as an offering. Nor was he alone ... Such Tree Spirits tend to anthropomorphize, first in name and then in transformation of body, but no one has dared to formulate the laws governing the process, and as Bower points out, willful men can twist and arrest it. The destruction of tree festivals was still a great concern of Christian rulers in 700 A.D., and Sacred Groves were known in Saxony in the year 1000. But destruction, pure and simple, was not the method of choice for overcoming the pagan customs. Pope Gregory, the Great, in a letter well-known to all practitioners of this sort of speculative science, recommends that whenever possible the existing rites be peacefully adapted to the service of the Gospels. Tell (our brother Bishop Augustinus) how long I have been anxious and thoughtful concerning the Angli, considering indeed that very little destruction of idols' temples should be made among that people. But let the idols themselves that are in them be destroyed, water blessed and sprinkled in these temples, altars constructed, and relics deposited . For, if the same temples be well built, it is needful that they be changed from the worship of demons to the allegiance of the true God; so that, when the people do not see their temples destroyed , they may cast out error from their heart, and knowing and adoring the true God, they may gather together the more readily at the accustomed places. And since it is the habit to kill many oxen in sacrifice to demons, therefore as to these also some attention of observance ought to be made; so that the people may for themselves make booths from branches of trees about these churches which are changed from the temples, and may observe a solemnity with the religious feasts on the day of dedication or birth of the holy martyrs whose relics are there deposited, and may not now offer the animals as sacrifice to the Devil, but may slay the animals to the praise of God in their own eating, and from their own fullness render thanks to the Giver of all things; so that, whilst in external matters some joys are preserved to them, they may more easily come into accord with the joys that are within. For it is no doubt impossible to separate at once all things from rude minds, because he who strives to reach the highest point is raised by steps or paces, not by leaps. No wonder so many scientists feel free to speculate without documentation, and are able to present likely stories of the pagan origins of a Christian festa. Bower, for his part, freely admits that it would be "presumptuous and foolish" to claim that the swirl of anthropology, philology, history, and archaeology can support a positive conclusion: "the foregoing conclusions are submitted to the reader certainly in no spirit of assertion ." But the eugubini, generally, don ' t read him that way. Having reviewed the Latin and Italian sources, Menichetti turns to the barbarians: And who of all people, and more so than any other, has sustained the thesis of a pagan origin of the corsa but an Englishman, Herbert Bower ... Another modern-day Italian, P. Benveduti, referring first to the Darwinian revolution and applauding Frazer in particular, is similarly displeased: In the wake of this great, time-proven work [The Golden Bough] we have Bower, a modest scholar, outlining his thoroughly offensive work on the Ceri on Gubbio, h av ing undertaken the preparation of a dilletante . Bower definds himself with Prof. Allessandro Reggiani, eugubino, who thought that the ceri were originally pedestals that supported holy bodies in the pagan temples. He also claimed that standard-bearing antennae, like the masts of the carroccio, were carried by the three most war-like companies of eugubini in the time before Ubaldo, and were surmounted by figures of Giorgio, Antonio, and Francesco. But Benveduti's reply is a grumble about .. .arbitrary and gratuitous hypotheses in circulation en masse, enough to fill two columns in the dailies or an hour's lecture, and Menichetti' s final-and shaky-word is this: Such [pagan] hypotheses cannot be sustained, for diverse reasons . Because to re-connect this popular manifestation to others most ancient presupposes historical continuity. But I am able to confirm that the Ceri were in existence, in the second half of the 1500s, as great candles of votive wax, and that the manifestation was exclusively and exqusitely religious. But doesn't the possibility of a pagan tree spirit turned medieveal antenna turned great votive candle revive the discussion? Let me add that to date no one has proposed a parallel between the twelve Capomanicheans and the twelve Apostles! It becomes clear that the debate about the history of the ceri will have no end so long as the ceraioli remain ready, willing, and able to run their burden up the mountain . For it not a debate about history, if "history" refers to that which is long past and no longer part of life. Rogari points again to the great gap in the historical record, and then explains himself: I cannot accept that a silence which not a single document interrupts can be very eloquent regarding a pagan derivation of the Ceri. And it is a silence that embraces-in the least-ten centuries! If one fine day an archive somewhere furnishes a small faded document or two that allude to a silvan festival celebrated in eugubino territory, just once through these many mute centuries, then-as an eugubino and as a priest- I will not protest in commotion and pride, because I see in the Ceri of my city the continuity of history from its beginning, while at the same time I'm immersed in the mysterious fascination of an antiquity most remote; I am able to see in the Ceri a symbol of the supercession of ancient paganism in the new light of the Gospel. Gubbio was reduced to rubble three times in its recorded history-by the Ostrogoth Totilla, by the Lombards, and by berserk Hungarians in 917; the curses of the Iguvine Tablets attest to the state of worldly affairs in Pre-Roman times. One need look no further than to Rome and Pope Boniface, to Florence and Savronola, to ridicule the principles of Christianity, and no further than Machiavelli to declare them dead in practical affairs, yet there were men and women who by the examples of their lives gave life to those principles in medieval Italy, thereby offering their people something to work for-the hope of a life less nasty, less brutish, and less short. Today, an intelligent Neapolitan desk clerk asks an American about Reagan, and declares himself a fan, "Forza !' The guest demurs, and they each laugh. "But what leader can be perfect," the clerk shrugs. Then he brightens-" Ah, St. Francis." The festa today is a celebration of the given, beautiful, and balanced life, and of the man whom the eugubini continue to thank for his service after 800 years. Ubaldo calmed civil strife, turned back the great siege, and went out upon the plain to talk a seething Frederick Barbarossa into giving up his rage, saving the city from a fourth destruction. All the while he was famous throughout Italy as a Christian holy man. He quietly refused the Bishopric of Perugia. There was apparently nothing wrong, by the principles of the Iguvinate State, the Tadinate State, the Tadinate tribe, etc., about spilling thy neighbor's blood. Today's eugubini feel that such blood stains the memory of Ubaldo, and what he stands for. Their anger for the Pagan Hypothesis, and their imperfect debate of its merits, have little to do with the various kinds of facts that compose the discussion. The road up Ingino is covered with gravel and wide enough for two cars, although none are ever permitted, and all along its length on the Fifteenth the uphill side serves as grandstand seating for the eugubini. Olive trees have given way to dark, scrubby pines, in which sit or stand the three varieties of ragazzi with the aplomb of leopards. Pausing to catch some breath, one turns and looks out over the city and its private valley. The Consuls' Palace has assumed a place among the other structures, no longer a towering bulk. Some information about the lay of Ikuvio is afforded by the Iguvine Tablets, for the path and stations of the lustration parades were as carefully prescribed as those of the corsa are today. Three ancient gates and plazas are known, and Rosenzwieg guesses that the temple of the Ateidi Brotherhood, the Arx Fusia, was well up the mountain, near today's cathedral and ducal palace. Another source, however, states that the city itself never reached so far up the mountain until after the rampage of Totilla, in the sixth century A.D., when it was rebuilt with money from the Byzantine Emperor. Out beyond today's walls one can see support for this idea in the Umbra-Roman theater, for it dates to 100 B. C. and was said to have been in the center of Ikuvio. This theater is the one great ruin of the ancient city, but was nearly buried and completely ignored for over a thousand years until excavations in 1789 and 1836, and thereafter was the victim, like Rome's Colliseum, of scavengers looking for quality building material. Today it has been restored and receives more respect, although it sits in the open in an unkempt field, which the crowds go kicking through on their way to the soccer games. Occasionally a ball bounces off the pagan wall. Beyond the theater, the modern suburbs quickly thin and only the homes and barns of the contadini spot the plain. Four miles distant the mountains rise again, bearing the road to Perugia. Resuming the climb, one comes through the last hairpin curve and onto a three-hundred yard straightaway, the corsa home stretch. At the top of this slope sits Ubaldo' s basilica. The crowd there presses respectfully but stubbornly into the chests of the elite, elegantlyattired Carabinieri, the national guard, who try to hold a line across the base of the fortress stairway. Unable to beat or shoot the populace, however, they fight a losing battle, losing ground with each intake of breath. To get so close to the finish line, one must forsake the birate and start climbing at the end of the second leg in town. The hope is to enter the basilica with Ubaldo' s cero, no easy task since the gates are slammed shut again as soon as it crosses the threshold. Only the family dignitaries, the final crew of ceraioli, and a few fleet specta. tors witness the commotion and celebrations of the first finish. The ceri of Giorgio and Antonio must wait outside until the Sanubaldari are willing to admit them. Bells rise from town to signal the beginning of the ascent, setting off a wail. Spines bend to the will of the mob, and sometimes one stands without touching the steps at all. A final surge throws the Carabinieri back against the gate. The Capitano of the Company of Horse comes swimming through the crowd, sword sheathed and on 44 45 �foot, but the fever is such that he receives neither recognition nor respect. Finally someone grabs him by both shoulders and cries "Il Capitano!" Exhausted from the climb, the old man smiles gratefully, and shakes his head to acknowledge the dignity of his person. The crowd applauds, and somehow a path has been cleared into the fortress. A first-time visitor will be surprised to see that Ubaldo' s basilica does not in fact sit upon the summit of Ingino, although it certainly appears to from the streets of the town . Another fortress, long in ruin, claims the highest spot, and dates to the Byzantine reconstruction. If one climbs upon its tower, the reward is a view into the east, a tableau overfilled by the forbidding march and majesty of the Apennines. One supposes a notch somewhat south to be the portal of the Falminian Way, but it seems no great improvement on going over the top. The same sense of heartbreak grips the visitor as he stares north down the slope of the home stretch. New and disorganized memories of the corsa as it ran through town, and the experience of having merely walked up the mountain, carrying only a camera, convince him that Ingino must win the final match. How many caduti are suffered in the loose gravel? The sun has set below the western ridge, leaving the base of the slope vague and grey. One feels foolish for having thought that the ceraioli actually run up the mountain. It's clearly impossible. Just above the slope from this perspective looms tree-bare Monte Calvo, still illuminated by the sun. The penultimate surprise is that a crucifix stands there, of monumental size, no doubt, but at this range a sliver, so barely discernible as to leave one imperfectly sure of its existence. If the path and stations of the corsa are in this age properly taken to figure Christ's walk to Golgotha, then here on Calvo is the image of the terminus, of the utter and wretched loneliness of Black Friday. The bare crown is itself immense, broad and gently bowed like the horizon at sea; the cross seems the mast of a ship about to fall off the edge of the world. I ceri! They're humping and bumping in the characteristic way, and looking straight on as they approach one cannot gauge their speed. But in sixty seconds they're nearly home, and one's blood chills with wonder. The crowd screams in pain when it seems that Ubaldo has stumbled, but ceraioli are at hand to catch the column as it falls forward, for only in this position can it pass through the gate. They break upon the basilica steps without snapping their knees, and opportunity presents itself to the spectator-an open spot amidships. With a great cry of "Sant' Ubaldo!" one has joined the yellow soldiers and passes inside. A Carabinieri snarls but has his hands full. The cero is immediately upright again and begins a birate that seems ungoverned by laws, around and around the small courtyard. Men embrace and bellow in disbelief. At their leisure, the ceraioli perform an alzata in reverse, removing both barella and santo from the cero, 46 during which the game Capo Dieci reclaims his perch and waves his fist, laughing and crying. The statue and cero are taken into the small chapel, where an exquisitely ecstatic priest screams into a microphone, reading from his prayerbook. When a spontaneous soccer cheer rises in opposition, he happily joins in, and dashes down from his lectern to hand out flyers upon which are printed Ubaldo's prayer. The crusty saint lies visible not five yards distant. The cero moves off to the right and is leaned against the wall. The statue is placed on a lit frame that has a homemade look, and after this the gates open for the Sangiorgiari. In 1905 a train line ran through Gubbio, but not anymore; a backward lurch not so curious, perhaps, to one who now knows a bit more about Mysterious Umbria . Along the Rome-Florence train line, get off at Perugia for a bus to Gubbio, or if riding from Rome out to the Adriatic-Ancona-and then up to Venice, get off at Fossato da Vico for a shorter bus ride. Even if one fails to plan on being in Gubbio for the Fifteenth of May, there are still reasons to visit while touring the north. On the first Sunday in May after the Fifteenth, the teenagers get their chance to be ceraioli, and with less extraneous fanfare but equal gusto run half-sized ceri, i mezzani, up the mountain. The next Sunday the small children give it a go, staying within the city, and the extra charm of each event is added by the proud parents with their cameras. The parties afterwards tend to be more lively, too, for the big boys are rested. At the end of May the Crossbow Palio is held, a revival of medieval warfare. The costumes are splendid, and the competition with the city of Biturgio entirely serious. The Pope-at Ubaldo' s suggestion- once outlawed the crossbow as too cruel and devastating a weapon. Gubbio' s soccer team now plays in the professional leagues, having won that honor in a playoff game last year on Sunday the seventeenth of May, only two days after the Festa. Such a weekend shall not soon be seen again, but the games are always exciting, and good seats always available. If one approaches Gubbio at night from Perugia during the Christmas season, one sees suspended in the sky the world's largest Christmas tree. Green lights have been strung from the south side of town, up the mountain to the basilica, and then back to the plain, north of town, outlining the familiar shape: a Christmas tree slightly smaller than Monte Ingino. Finally, at Easter, a haunting, beautiful procession takes place Saturday night culminating with a large bonfire. The eugubini sing medieval songs, and dress in white hooded cloaks that, unfortunately, were adopted in America by the Klu Klux Klan. The Festa, too, ends on a solemn, simpatico note. Night has fallen. The three statues, on the homemade frame, are carried at the head of a slow parade back down into the city. Ubaldo's prayer has a melody, and if the visitor has a flyer he or she can sing along. The chorus begins brightly, carrying on from the climax of the corsa, but slowly sobers while coming down the mountain, losing tempo, not strength, and finishes as what to the untutored ear seems a dirge. Until very recently there were torches to light the way, and bonfires set throughout the valley by the contadini. Bower counted fifty or so in 1896. The statues are brought to the Stonemason's church on Via Savelli, and in a brief ceremony set in place until next year. The sad singing ends, and everyone goes home to take a rest. Later the taverns will open, with food, wine, and music for those that have the energy to enjoy them. A boatload of eugubini once got up the nerve to emigrate to America, and settled in Pennsylvania coal country, in the town of Jessup. There is communication between the two cities, and each year the Americans celebrate Ubaldo' s vigil with a corsa of sorts, with ceri similar to the mezzani of Gubbio. Nothing strikes one accustomed to the Italian version so much as the wide open streets the Jessup people course through. If one looks back to Gubbio while driving off to Perugia, a remarkable image of the medieval hierarchy is plain to see. The highest thing, beneath the sun, is the lonely crucifix of Monte Calvo. The tree line well below marks the limit of Nature, nestled within which rest~ Ubaldo, surrounded by spirits of vegetation but high above the crumbling city walls. The city skyline is dominated by the Consuls' Palace, but from this distance barely rises above the plain. "Tutt'a pasta," one mutters. All's in order. 1 Bibliography Apollonio, Mario, "Dante e l'Umbria," Umbria Nella Storia, Perugia (city), 1950 Benveduti, P. Quoted in Menichetti, pp. 123, 124 Bower, Herbert M., The Elevation and Procession of the Ceri of Gubbio, David Nutt, London, 1897 Frazer, George, The Golden Bough, Macmillan, New York, 1922 McCracken, Laura, Gubbio Past and Present, David Nutt, London Menichetti, Piero Luigi, Storia dei Ceri del Gubbio, Gubbio, 1982 Rogari, Origene, I Ceri, Vispi & Angeletti, Gubbio, 1977 Rosenzweig, Irene Rituals and Cults of Pre-Roman Iguvium, Christophers, London, 1937 47 �Now- is Less Absolute Than You Think Carolyn Barndt ('90) Enough! Today I said: Enough. Today my drawn and darkened brow washed clean in the bath of a yellow afternoonblew clear in astonishing blasts of warm wind, scattering a stale hoard of thoughts. The wet earth stank, ripe with that mineral potency which nourishes indiscriminately every hungry thing not yet too distant from it. I could no longer stand apart, confining myself to my mind' s stifling closet, haunted by the ponderous overcoats of others' secondhand conclusions, never quite fitting, always unseasonable. Startled by freshness , my senses lent freedom. A young woman walked byhair the healthy color of hay, green sweater slouched on her casual body, cheeks ruddy, rounded in smiling . I breathed her intoday, she is a blossom, not my obstinate weed. Today she has a fragrance, a lingering pleasure that opens closed passages. Enough, then of the scribbled epitaphs, my morbid, solemn dirges, while the lazy breeze ripples through the leaves like laughter. Laughterthese colorsmy brain's mere arrangements? Pray, let me exclaim "But how-lovely she is!" and kindness pours, golden into this bitter cavitygladness diffuses the rankness of envy. Therefore let me believe, you for whom I have doubted, austere and inflexible rival for right, antagonist who vanquished my language. In your dark and tedious freezing night, I forgot any thought of the thaw to come. Today I am not that winter self, not wound and muffled in heavier layers than my own thin skin, huddling in what hollows of warmth I could find, at odds with the instable elements. Today a breeze tousles my hair, and my arms, bare to the elbows, are not idle but free to enfold these frail, frantic, these babbling things that gambol or squat on the lawn. Reproach me not! I have survived until thisa sudden, tumultuous moment's bliss. 49 �See here-the ground, torn by behemoth machines, at one time heaped in raw, crumbling mountains, is settled-today its heals into green. It will stay bare no more than the leaves of November will not rot to provide for their tender descendants. From such motions, imperceptible to the eye alone, not even the writings in stone are immune . Set your stony facade thenyour scowling brow as strange and forbidding as some rain-forest icon! say the movement unceasing, unseen, tomorrow will show it to be not so sharp. And the environs, a climate above tiny forces may shifta new season may dumbfound all grievanceas today leaves me speechless and renders me gentle toward all who had fostered the frost, even you. 50 �Non-Profit Org. U.S. Postage PAID St. John's College Annapolis, Maryland 21404 Permit No. 66 Lutherville, ·Md. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>Energeia</em> Description An account of the resource <em>Energeia</em> is a non-profit, student magazine, which is published once a year and distributed among students, faculty, alumni, and staff of St. John's College, Annapolis.  Staff welcome submissions from all members of the community -- essays, poems, stories, original math proofs, lab projects, drawings, and the like. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context energeia Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper (bound book) Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 50 pages Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Energeia, Winter 1990 Description An account of the resource Issue of the Energeia, published in Winter 1990. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Barndt, Carolyn (Editor-in-Chief) Covitz, Akiba (Editor-in-Chief) Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1990 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Type The nature or genre of the resource text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Energeia Winter 1990 Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/1c0346148cb49eb3f4e4b16e6662dfb2.mp4 20c3977bd20226690a1dbf2ee47418f1 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource SJC Films Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Moving Image A series of visual representations imparting an impression of motion when shown in succession. Examples include animations, movies, television programs, videos, zoetropes, or visual output from a simulation. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data 16 mm film Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 00:34:13 Producer Name (or names) of the person who produced the video Fordel Films, Inc. Director Name (or names) of the person who produced the video Barnes, John Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource St. John's College Description An account of the resource Film entitled "St. John's College" produced by Fordel Films in 1962. Originally distributed as marketing material, and describes the program and campus. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Barnes, John (Director) Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Fordel Films, Inc. Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1962 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this film. Type The nature or genre of the resource moving image Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource mp4 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Livesey, Michael (Photographed by) Johnson, Robert (Edited by) Gunst, Dennis (Recorded by) Fisher, Sandy (Music Recorded by) Allanbrook, Douglas (Composer) Gilbert, David (Flutist) Barnes, John (Written and Directed by) Brann, Eva T. H. Zuckerkandl, Victor Bart, Robert Darkey, William A. Klein, Jacob Weigle, Richard Daniel, 1912- Relation A related resource <a title="Original Uncompressed File" href="https://s3.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/VTS_01_1.VOB">Original Uncompressed File</a> Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 'St. John's College' film, 1962 Compressed Subject The topic of the resource St. John's College (Annapolis, Md.). History. Alumni Deans Presidents Tutors https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/e7328bb40ad4f799e65fccc6def183f9.mp3 f74576fd80e5be3727aff240940e0344 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Description An account of the resource The Wednesday Night Lecture Series, hosted during the summer term by the Graduate Institute at St. John’s College in Annapolis, is a less-formal version of the college’s formal Friday Night Lectures. The Wednesday Night lectures are an opportunity for tutors and for graduates of the college who are pursuing academic careers to present the first fruits of their thinking to an attentive and inquisitive audience. The lectures, held in the King William Room of the Barr-Buchanan Center at 7:30 p.m., with a question period afterward in a neighboring classroom, are free and open to the public.<br /><br />For more information, and for a schedule of upcoming lectures, please visit the <strong><a title="Summer lecture series" href="https://www.sjc.edu/annapolis/events/lectures/summer-wednesday-night-lecture-series" target="_blank">St. John's College website</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=31">Items in the Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Sound A resource primarily intended to be heard. Examples include a music playback file format, an audio compact disc, and recorded speech or sounds. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data mp3 Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 00:53:49 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Learning, Knowing, and Remembering in a Digital World Description An account of the resource Audio recording of a lecture delivered on July 26, 2017 by Naomi Baron as part of the Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Baron, Naomi S. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2017-07-26 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Permission has been received stating, "I hereby grant St. John's College permission to: Make an audio recording of my lecture, and retain copies for circulation and archival preservation in the St. John's College Greenfield Library. Make an audio recording of my lecture available online." Type The nature or genre of the resource sound Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource mp3 Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Baron_Naomi_2017-07-26 Graduate Institute Summer lecture series https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/0ff4e11f50a4c8136675f252f3d28f8b.mp3 81aa8f11a197d4cc9124dfdbf841c807 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource Items in this collection are part of a series of lectures given every year at St. John's College. During the Fall and Spring semesters, lectures are given on Friday nights. Items include audio and video recordings and typescripts.<br /><br />For more information, and a schedule of upcoming lectures, please visit the <strong><a href="http://www.sjc.edu/programs-and-events/annapolis/formal-lecture-series/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">St. John's College website</a></strong>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Formal Lecture Series" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=5&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the St. John's College Formal Lecture Series—Annapolis Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection.<br /><br />A growing number of lecture recordings are also available on the St. John's College (Annapolis) Lectures podcast. Visit <a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/st-johns-college-annapolis-lectures/id1695157772">Apple Podcasts</a> or <a href="https://open.spotify.com/show/6GDsIRqC8SWZ28AY72BsYM?si=f2ecfa9e247a456f" title="Spotify">Spotify</a> to listen and subscribe. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Title A name given to the resource St. John's College Formal Lecture Series—Annapolis Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context formallectureseriesannapolis Sound A resource primarily intended to be heard. Examples include a music playback file format, an audio compact disc, and recorded speech or sounds. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data audiotape (Tape 52, Vol. 1) Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 01:31:12 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The beginning of the St. John's program Description An account of the resource Audio recording of part one of a lecture delivered in July 1972 by Stringfellow Barr entitled "The beginning of the St. John's program". Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Barr, Stringfellow, 1897-1982 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1972-07 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College has been given permission to make this item available online. Type The nature or genre of the resource sound Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource mp3 Relation A related resource <a title="Part Two" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/show/3714">Part Two</a> <a title="Photographs" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/search?query=%2B%22The+Beginning+of+the+St.+John%27s+Program%22&amp;query_type=boolean&amp;record_types%5B%5D=Item&amp;submit_search=Search">Photographs from the lecture</a> Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context lec Barr 1972-07 (part 1) https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/abf8d3a833817fa6e4ca33d97641f296.mp3 0c6de2ed6e62258cfbb1082214339128 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource Items in this collection are part of a series of lectures given every year at St. John's College. During the Fall and Spring semesters, lectures are given on Friday nights. Items include audio and video recordings and typescripts.<br /><br />For more information, and a schedule of upcoming lectures, please visit the <strong><a href="http://www.sjc.edu/programs-and-events/annapolis/formal-lecture-series/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">St. John's College website</a></strong>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Formal Lecture Series" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=5&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the St. John's College Formal Lecture Series—Annapolis Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection.<br /><br />A growing number of lecture recordings are also available on the St. John's College (Annapolis) Lectures podcast. Visit <a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/st-johns-college-annapolis-lectures/id1695157772">Apple Podcasts</a> or <a href="https://open.spotify.com/show/6GDsIRqC8SWZ28AY72BsYM?si=f2ecfa9e247a456f" title="Spotify">Spotify</a> to listen and subscribe. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Title A name given to the resource St. John's College Formal Lecture Series—Annapolis Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context formallectureseriesannapolis Sound A resource primarily intended to be heard. Examples include a music playback file format, an audio compact disc, and recorded speech or sounds. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data audiotape (Tape 52, Vol. 2) Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 01:02:26 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The beginning of the St. John's program Description An account of the resource Audio recording of part two of a lecture delivered in July 1972 by Stringfellow Barr entitled "The beginning of the St. John's program". Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Barr, Stringfellow, 1897-1982 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1972-07 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College has been given permission to make this item available online. Type The nature or genre of the resource sound Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource mp3 Relation A related resource <a title="Part One" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/show/3713">Part One</a> <a title="Photographs" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/search?query=%2B%22The+Beginning+of+the+St.+John%27s+Program%22&amp;query_type=boolean&amp;record_types%5B%5D=Item&amp;submit_search=Search">Photographs from the lecture</a> Language A language of the resource English https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/02c2060d67ead06fb17bb4cfc0ad2ea2.mp3 b5a5c005ba2e44f484ee925bc2de0385 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Description An account of the resource Items in this collection are part of a series of lectures given every year at St. John's College. During the Fall and Spring semesters, lectures are given on Friday nights. Items include audio and video recordings and typescripts.<br /><br />For more information, and a schedule of upcoming lectures, please visit the <strong><a href="http://www.sjc.edu/programs-and-events/annapolis/formal-lecture-series/" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">St. John's College website</a></strong>.  <br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Formal Lecture Series" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=5&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the St. John's College Formal Lecture Series—Annapolis Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection.<br /><br />A growing number of lecture recordings are also available on the St. John's College (Annapolis) Lectures podcast. Visit <a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/st-johns-college-annapolis-lectures/id1695157772">Apple Podcasts</a> or <a href="https://open.spotify.com/show/6GDsIRqC8SWZ28AY72BsYM?si=f2ecfa9e247a456f" title="Spotify">Spotify</a> to listen and subscribe. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Title A name given to the resource St. John's College Formal Lecture Series—Annapolis Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context formallectureseriesannapolis Sound A resource primarily intended to be heard. Examples include a music playback file format, an audio compact disc, and recorded speech or sounds. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data compact disc Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 00:39:58 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The habit of violence Description An account of the resource Audio recording of a lecture delivered on January 10, 1959 by Stringfellow Barr as part of the Formal Lecture Series. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Barr, Stringfellow, 1897-1982 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1959-01-10 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this recording. Type The nature or genre of the resource sound Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource mp3 Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context lec Barr 1959-01-10 Friday night lecture Presidents https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/7545db4228dd9721eecc4fbb46481783.mp3 0652d23669b76cd7db3569168cb444c4 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Speeches, presentations, and other lectures Description An account of the resource Speeches, presentations, and other lectures given at St. John's College. These include convocation addresses delivered in both Annapolis, MD and Santa Fe, NM.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Speeches, presentations, and other lectures" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=15">Items in the Speeches, presentations, and other lectures Collection</a></strong> to <span>view and sort all items in the collection.</span> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context speechespresentationsotherlectures Sound A resource primarily intended to be heard. Examples include a music playback file format, an audio compact disc, and recorded speech or sounds. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data audiotape (Tape 225) Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 01:29:45 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Stringfellow Barr and Scott Buchanan answer questions about the history and development of the St. John’s College Program (Part 1 of 2) Description An account of the resource Audio recording of Stringfellow Barr and Scott Buchanan discussing and answering questions about the history and development of the St. John's program. Recorded in two parts on August 25, 1966 as a supplement to Warren C. Bomhardt’s Master’s Thesis, “The St. John’s College Program: its history and development” for Loyola College, Baltimore, MD, 1968. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Santa Barbara, CA Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1966-08-25 Type The nature or genre of the resource sound Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource mp3 Relation A related resource <a href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/show/4051" title="Part 2">Part 2</a> Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Barr Buchanan 1966-08-25 (part 1) Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Barr, Stringfellow, 1897-1982 Buchanan, Scott, 1895-1968 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Bomhardt, Warren C. https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/bd4dcfbfd62ac3a4edcc825f161d9145.mp3 3d65949a2c1e97994ec33c4279219327 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Speeches, presentations, and other lectures Description An account of the resource Speeches, presentations, and other lectures given at St. John's College. These include convocation addresses delivered in both Annapolis, MD and Santa Fe, NM.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Speeches, presentations, and other lectures" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=15">Items in the Speeches, presentations, and other lectures Collection</a></strong> to <span>view and sort all items in the collection.</span> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context speechespresentationsotherlectures Sound A resource primarily intended to be heard. Examples include a music playback file format, an audio compact disc, and recorded speech or sounds. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data audiotape (Tape 225) Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 01:17:10 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Stringfellow Barr and Scott Buchanan answer questions about the history and development of the St. John’s College Program (Part 2 of 2) Description An account of the resource Audio recording of Stringfellow Barr and Scott Buchanan discussing and answering questions about the history and development of the St. John's program. Recorded in two parts on August 25, 1966 as a supplement to Warren C. Bomhardt’s Master’s Thesis, “The St. John’s College Program: its history and development” for Loyola College, Baltimore, MD, 1968. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Santa Barbara, CA Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1966-08-25 Type The nature or genre of the resource audio Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource mp3 Relation A related resource <a href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/show/4050" title="Part 1">Part 1</a> Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Barr Buchanan 1966-08-25 (part 2) Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Barr, Stringfellow, 1897-1982 Buchanan, Scott, 1895-1968 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Bomhardt, Warren C. https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/8764fd9534ab298bdea7cb65a93c39d6.jpg 16a0f5232779da29bf5e0fc8f9163b60 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Image Collection—Annapolis Description An account of the resource <p>The Greenfield Library Image Collection houses over 5,000 photographs, postcards, drawings, and other graphic materials.  The images in the collection document the history, academic, and community life of St. John’s College. </p> To learn more about the Greenfield Library's archives use policy or to obtain high-resolution images, please see the <strong><a title="Image Collection Use Policy" href="http://www.sjc.edu/academic-programs/libraries/greenfield-library/policies/#photographicarchivepolicy" target="_blank" rel="noreferrer noopener">Library’s Image Collection Use Policy</a></strong>.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="Photographic Archives" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=7">Items in the Image Collection—Annapolis Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context imagecollectionannapolis Still Image A static visual representation. Examples include paintings, drawings, graphic designs, plans and maps. Recommended best practice is to assign the type Text to images of textual materials. Physical Dimensions The actual physical size of the original image 25.5 x 20.5 cm Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data photograph Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Portrait of George Doskow Description An account of the resource 1 photographic print : b&w Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Barry, Vivian Ronay Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1987 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this photograph. Type The nature or genre of the resource still image Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource jpeg Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SJC-P-0543 Subject The topic of the resource Doskow, George Deans Tutors https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/3e81ecb0c8db87442413eb39dbf5c9b7.pdf 72d256c76578992a7604ecc63bbde777 PDF Text Text �3 he became aware that "a serious poet meter but doesn't allow rendered into verse." I stands to this test. HowS.J.C. �l I 5 �of these strangers and to welcomwere them. Do take time to some the so Health Insurance." The preRite covered �� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The Gadfly</em> Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, <em>The </em><em>Gadfly</em> is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the <em>The Gadfly</em> Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 8 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Clement, David Q. (Editor-in-Chief) Battles, Alexander S. (Editor-in-Chief) Title A name given to the resource The Gadfly, Vol XV Issue 1 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1993-10-05 Description An account of the resource Volume XV, Issue 1 of The Gadfly. Published October 5, 1993. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 15 #1 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Gadfly Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/1e8feaae4d06749ab8978fcebded1e46.pdf 70d47ad9becb19f1a2aacfd0d5c75b3e PDF Text Text �27, 1993 the Soviet Union in for a Red Sea hase. This military aid sporadic warfare between and Somalia, when a resolution seemed tinued temporary oc- heart of this strife has been he was ousted a military coup in 1969 which Siad Barre to power. Then the U.S. and Union musical chairs. The proSomalia and in return received the former Soviet base on the Somali coast, strategy. stimulus for a united and alize given the hostilities between Somalia and its Instead, Somalia is left with a frag- we represent only a therefore a unpo1pularJ warlord. We have become nothing better than a warlord under the banner of ," which more to than a for- 3 The sources on an unsuccessand a nation which has been ruled most of its mclcoendent by dictator. It should now be ob- Nonetheless, Clinton reinforcements and March 31. Clinton's 1993 my was my first out I worked for the Bush Administration three years, my way up from intern staff assistant to associate director. The before the November elections my recent advancement was r-~-·L---~-' The were been President in a few more years. October of 20 and weak from a bout of Dengue Fever. What I did know at the but learned the next few years, was that and careful life will still move in a direction all its own. lmsure of whatto do next, I met up with old friend who told me about office the White House that was charged with v111vLu1ie community service. Albert (a St. John's - who at the time was detailed to the White House from the Federal Archives-cleared me into the Old Executive Office and led me to where chance was for me with open arms. I was offered an 1ntPr11,ch1in '"''"'"''"'~ which was to last three months. That was in of 1990. Almost three years later, my boxes for the Bush as I was in Texas, found the same battle all over Herman off Those members of the student were elected to SJC Student !J~~1cYm1t': Council executive and representative offices have done a fine thus far. Their aw1;_,111.1cti.~<..:t:. elections these individuals to office were very !JV"""'" both to me and to our ney, Mr. B. Feldman. Mr. Feldman every effort to ensure that the elections were held .-,,-.,,,._rri;~ The elections scheduled so prepare for them. have members of the was seized. to think there is a T°nl~t".>nhH<'•0n reason for the coincidence that I was tral!eci1e~ while my life was ego could say these great gave me the answers or the needed. as I look up from my tvr,Purr1tic.r at my framed of me with the Prcsiit would have been easier if fool could have hid under my arm during that session. words of caution and ,,,n.~~,·~~ into my ear. Then again, even the fool was unable to awaken King Lear in his moments of greatest delirium. are in its role as the means for student communication with the administration, and as the means student So. I vu•V•Hl!o: . . wi 11 take a greater interest m D.C. affairs. As a,.,,,..,,.,,."=~• the D.C. needs student on page 4. �to appear. of enclosing the of the council here. This 1. Someone quests for sheet music. 2. Ms. Paduano and Mr. n/a 280-3678 280-3187 Seniors: K. Dzamov, E. Folmer, M. ex.298 �27, 1993 6 21 1993 7 The I new schedule is as follows: 12:00 m. 12:00 m. 8:30 p.m. 12:00 m. 12:00 m. 6:00 p.m. 3:30 p.m. have any rice. lived off campus and was Lunches were the ""-''-'~-'"· home lunch answer was rice. perVfi'7flllnu has earned the Week honors. ouitst~mdim.! food as much as anyone else Korean roommate had "''"'~'"Yht ment a twenty as several rice cookers. was about six inches tall and made about ten get some rice. But back to rice a Do you think an:~ss1m2 it up with other rice underneath is still the same old weekend, the SJC crew in the Ariel Head of U«HJ~•"v regatta. Miss Meadows earned a medal in the women's Misses Pond and oart1c;mate~d as the odds-on favorites to take the soccer and football titles: I mean the Greenwaves and the respecWhat makes each team so tough is their the Waves with ever dangerous Messrs. Vail and nuuuvA. as third in the Men's novice four. The novice mixed 8, made up Heather Sarah Fremont, Blake West, Kristin and coxswain Sean .._,._,uu ..,u,, aromatic well the rice cooker as Even serian1tes itself from the others to prove .. ~'·""'"" to do with its brother on with our ins:tn.1cton;, l\!Hss Wase and Miss Rock. After three weeks of I had borrowed the rice Alexander S. Battles co-editor As we all on the morning of each of their Saturday home foothall games, the mids from the U.S.N.A. march up College Avenue to their stadium to watch their team play. As they march, they al way.s sing lighthearted tunes about such topics as General Custer's drunkenness and the notorious killer ship, the Bismarck. of course, when they pass the campus of St. John's College. At this point, the lyrics make a turn for the better, and the middies neglect their animosity towards Germans and the U.S. for the greener pastures of fun at the liberals on the right. A sample of the manna which drops from the tongues of our naval neighbors "I wanna Aristotle. I'm a left kind of guy. I wear socks with my sandals. All my shirts are tie-dyed." "I don't carry pens to class. Don't wanna take no written tests. I don't want a real degree. So I came to S-J-C." Four, Messrs. Ard, wrote a response to the demand, it is ~"'""'l:'..", have solidified the . and here: vive. "I wanna weapons systems. I wanna wear a hat. I wanna march in 'Cause I don't know where it's at." least the latest unofficial count. The St. Women's defeated weekends ago, 3-2. the tennis courts. corn, green olives, diced cooked chicken, beans, and chick of my own rice cooker, summer, better than most of the books I have ever here. No book so far can cook a No book is so And up for the tennis tournament marathon to be held on the weekend of October 30. ap«)!og12:e for any confusion re""""',."' aerobics schedule. soak Train scored twice, and Miss Engelman once. Kuvm Feld, Sitton, Lockhart, Wase, Cate, and Liversidge the finest games of their collecareers. The freshman Bauman, Gram, and Monberg also played well. Great defense was played by Misses and Meadows, while team captain Miss Rhodes dominated the mid-field. "I go out I wanna dress like an ice-cream man. I couldn't get into West Point. So I row a boat for Uncle Sam:· "'Oh say can you see'?' Written by Francis Scott He went to S-J-C. sucks. All reserved. Unauthorized duis unnecessary, since you can just sing them to the mids on Saturday mornings. the faith. 1Jll'-'"l1v11 article originally appeared in the November 1992, issue the �� Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The Gadfly</em> Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, <em>The </em><em>Gadfly</em> is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the <em>The Gadfly</em> Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 8 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Clement, David Q. (Editor-in-Chief) Battles, Alexander S. (Editor-in-Chief) Title A name given to the resource The Gadfly, Vol XV Issue 2 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1993-10-19 Description An account of the resource Volume XV, Issue 2 of The Gadfly. Published October 19, 1993. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 15 #2 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Gadfly Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/fcc43101d37054cdca6643174a03feec.pdf b3488c5498992884d1471d2ecbe16a8d PDF Text Text to hear about it, much less involve can't we stand up and ourselves. Yet we have had a paradoxi'"'""'llV''""'"IJ with the rest of the world. yet our audience and fellow actors are conus off the stage. when had and renounce the certain kind of action to a certain or never do we consider as an action the decision not to act, or in not to our traditional role. We have become convinced that the stage is the area of action and that a decision not to our traditional role on it constitutes no role Therefore we are ,,..,,~ ..,,ri.i.... i,, all calls forour "action" whenis committed somewhere Now are increasto be involved in a last year Santa Fe instituted a discussion class ra,-,1,-,,~0C' 3. of the second semester. even student,....~.~······'""·''"''~ in We confessed -..v11n"""''""' education and fine arts .,.~... ,,c,_,,~,.....~ 1s om'uuu:u on page 4) Ben Feldnian Staff writer "I have the·~--·-~~··"- audience of his counterparts in Annapolis. Mr. Van Luchene was in town to the October 23, 1993. The lecture was entitled: "William Blake: A '-''-·""11""""'-· Mr. Van Luchene intent was to offer "a ~A·•h"''"' into the works of Blake for those not �3 act out our traditional role ashamed about we should refuse all assistance and vH)",Ulvll Our conviction not to internal affairs, we would put a moat and wall those who have had ui.'""''-''"J" can be made in i1 number of ·xay;.,. \(Jrnc: orc)te~;s1cms. for as the song goes " the old Lone Ranger. .. " For those who do not know. whois one the decision not to ol' first proposal is that inhabitants and treat them filled with savages, barbarians that treat each other in a "'"'"'r"',,. crueler than any other group that I can recall that it is unnecessary to go into details illustrate this Furthermore, I'm starofachildren's the show has reached mass refuse to come to all their armed aH·a.r-huol" kill each other. I among young children. The discussion about Barney. Many claimed that Barney was a nauseating show because the characters are always had never seen the show so from see Barney on television. watched Barney, I noticed three disturbing aspects of the program, the cnr,o.-t·,,..,,., I reason, rules which put the boot extremely difficult for these events to take that Plans will with us. responsibility being taught. In one sode, a group of children Bi1rney ~h(Jw f i1i I~ to du so at all. Perhaps this children were experiencing th1\ paq summer when sec the movie .Jurassic Park which. although fictional. portruyed a much more accuratt:: picture of dinosaurs than Ban:-:ey The expected to see and instead \O.'h bea,h. ~cemc, :ack the overall quality of work which has from puhlic come to be televic,ion. The c,cript. characters. acting. sets. and music are all done. A program can usually get away with neglecting one or two of these things. but not all, for even young children notice such negligence. l believe this is what nn)mntf'.(I children television star ~<-J11Pn11H1 to publicly state last summer that "['Barney and Friends'] has to get away from what we used to call 'a program in a telephone booth.' You' re fined. You can't move .... They have to break out and get away from that and build more characters and build other aspects to the show." following Barney on the television schedule was Mr. Rogers· a first class children's program which still is shown years after its long running LJ1'J'-'U"-"v•i. All of the things done \vrong in were done to perfection by Fred Rogers. After Mr. Rogers or creates. he spends time not only cleaning-up but talk- Zack Rasmuson, Kathy October 5 Atte111di1Gg: Shana Hack, Zack Rasmuson, Rock Business: 1. Beth Martin asked for money for Group. We hadn't received money from promise her money in the near future. 2. Bill Morocco's seminar went off incident. 3. Zack and Shana are hoping to 4. The All-College Seminar will be November 5. We will be discussing the dean's Statement get it. October 12 Attending: Shana Hack, Jon .._...,'-'"'"-" Zack Rasmuson, Stolzenbach, Andy smith, Rock Business: 1. We approved lhe study group aprlllcatlcm among Good Soldier will lecture. There is a a study group should approach the I lack and not Stolzenbach and should be filled out before coming to the meeting. The S.C.I. is an o:r1~aruz~1tum founded to students voice concerns about the program. We sponsor forums, student lectures, seminars, study groups. If you have any auest1ions. contact your class or Shana Hack. The S.C.I. meet eve:ry week at 11:30 a.m. in room 11 on Tuesclavs. a whole new vvorld is entered into. in \\hi ch ne\ er actually appears. '.\1r. Rogers also discusses pretending. Although Rogers makes a very sharp distinction. a distinction can be done in other ways (e.g. Sesame Street). Regardless of the method. a distir.ction needs to be made. Finally. nrr,ri11,~Pri at the highest level of quality. E\'Cn John Costa. is superb -chord changes behind simple lyrics and tunes. grew-up in the Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers' sad to see public television at an all time !ow. sold out. Barney either needs to he ~""'' -·· ,_ ,. -- tc lcvi sion. l fit is not corrected or taken off the today's children grow-up into irresponsible. os,rcll.olc)giCallY darr1aged, tasteless adults. �5 57 Maryiand Ave., Annapolis• 21401 Clement Graphics �993 October 6 Mr. Werlin: Mr. Werlin's the the week weekend's versus Green wave game. The beautiful kick was not enough '"'"'r'"'"'' fell to the Waves in vAl~lUHI",. footgame or year. Jock of the Week honors gotooneofthe ""''"""""'"'who made a gritty last week socthe Waves, one of the cer teams I've seen here in years (second '78 to J0<:Kc~ne of the Week honors go to Miss 8 to lead the rarely. ~( e1·er. sr11dies . . . sport is an laboratory <~f dedication. age. mastery. order. ship. companionship. sotiwde. authority. --Dickinson College , and commiton sports in student's lives. tee The following is the text of Miss Brann' s speech to the Kuvm at the start of their season, September l 0, 1993: ''Who am I to talk to you about the link to saving graces of sports? salvation is my locker in the gym; I'm holding on to it for dear life in the that one day I'll prove St. Paul wrong. He says: "For what I would, that do I not, but what I hate, 7:15). One workthat do I" out and stop sugar. "What I want to do instead is some questions with you that I sometimes talk about amongst """rc·<>h"""" You do it mean as kvetching in the gym, but as students reflecting in the ways of your '-'V'''-~·'-· Almost all special problems. I don't want you to misunderstand me: I hate and despise oriote:ssi!onai victims, people who ascribe to things done to them " Their demeans the sober reality of real-life difficulties. "I can think of two or three such one. There 7 The arnDIH:at1on process which cants to file two forms: the FAFSA FAF. Now that students and financial mastered the two-form system, T'ior>QT"tmPnl of Education will for 1994-95. Orthodox traditions will find the form very similar to the office in their own must file a Financial Aid FAFSA/Rea The Student Life Committee is a group and staff formed to plan events and address student be accomconcerns. Since this task can student there will be a survey this week in campus mail to out what sort of events the ~~·~~~ .. --- .. has an interest in. In addition, there will be a up those would like be involved in this dinners/desserts/teas etc ... Please take a moment to fill out the to make sure your voice will be heard. If anyone has any contact Jennifer 993-94 FAFSA, a re- ever to the gym or come to my office. James ttu1m1r>h1·ev St. John's Christian l-4'.r>lllo,w.:1111n 0% discount to all students & 800- 736-0876 The Examinations will take 141, 144 in rooms 103, 104, 1 Hall. of the French Read- Across from campus pottery students. Make a selection and leave a donation. We will use the money collected to a new of mr)m1~nt for the studio. We arc ~.-n.•n+ .. i support. For everyone interested in the French Conversation we will be on October 20, at 8:00 p.m. in McDowell. to sec you !! Cost $5.00. purposes and limitations would the members of a men's team. I think that really thoughtful men and women are not differentiable by but in ordinary, unreflective activity differences may come out. You'll have the if makes you thoughtful. Francis Keller Phone 263-2066 +tax pnuemoniae which are ~~r·~~~ 0 ; prc~xunatelv 90% of serious the U.S. and worldwide. Pneumococcal pnemnomc:ts mately 15% ofall Other causes of pneumonia include viruses other bacterias which this vaccine does not cover. vaccine is $8.00. Cost of the This lasts 5 to 1 years. Stu dents may their caution funds. For more infonnation come to the Health Center. amination McDowell. If you are to take either of the above you will need show proctor your St. John's Student Identification Card or a valid driver's cense. The proctor will record your name on the examination as it appears on your identification. Examinations will not be to anyone who does identification. Please come to see me if you have any auest1on concerning this matter. Thank you. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Freshman. and Junior Classes: This is a reminder Don Junior Conferences will take ""'"h'"',....·"'"" Decemher 8 Tutorials and Laboratories will be canr:or.rtmi11ea on page 8) �8 993 independent student weekly distributed free of Annapolis campus as as tutors visitors and governors, the offices the St. expressed are the sole responsibility of edit all submissions in submitted in any Macintoshdisk along with a typed, doubledouble-spaced submissions are acceptable. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The Gadfly</em> Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, <em>The </em><em>Gadfly</em> is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the <em>The Gadfly</em> Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 8 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Clement, David Q. (Editor-in-Chief) Battles, Alexander S. (Editor-in-Chief) Title A name given to the resource The Gadfly, Vol XV Issue 3 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1993-10-26 Description An account of the resource Volume XV, Issue 3 of The Gadfly. Published October 26, 1993. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 15 #3 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Gadfly Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/c2c73ee9952a9afd214e97ee8ca94e03.pdf f4030eb7358a603c0ab647a2ed73db05 PDF Text Text �November 2, 1993 2 The The words or less have a better Letters Policy: Letters nu,nl1.'<11f'l1 than those Letters not chance .)v<:uiri:<, and will be be edited for grammar, vuncl'uatio.n. printed exactly as submitted. olds cannot appreciate St. Elsewhere, so how could an adult expect to co1mo1reh<end how special a show like be is this, Mr. Feldman: Barney is Next summer perhaps you should turn your keen and acutely critical eyes to your own level. Cobern '94 Those of you who ate dinner the hall two " 23) may have noticed a new feature on the menu. I am, rcterrmg to those wonderful tempura cakes ago still are to some '94. We were and Jae of the nourishment for which we take mea Dear editors: so Dear Mr. Feldman: Although I may be my reputation as a responsible, tasteful, and psychologically intact adult by saying so, I feel I must respond to the superficiality of your latest contribution to The Gadfly. I am, of course, not referring to your recent lecture review (how could anyone ever find any of those superficial?) but your critical commentary on the devastating downhill trend in children's television programming, the "Down with Barney" opinions and admire your continuing efforts to keep Gad.fly readers informed of them, I find this recent commentary lacking pe1rspcct1ve is fair that at this my personal stake in this Barney issue, as I, like the anonymous student in your article, work partti me as a performing purple dinosaur. I, however, feel no need to protect my identity any noroutofanysenseof shame. In fact, I got so far as to model for his young viewers even though I realize what an un1porml:1r stand that is these days. And yet cannot completely disagree with your assessment of his television show. It is indeed difficult for grownups to stomach Barney's sappy sweetness, and I cannot in good faith ignore the show's faults, some of which you mentioned, but I also realize that is not my opinion of the program that counts. Barney was developed on public television because it was noted that the other shows you fondly referred to in your article are often beyond the grasp of the youngest pre-school viewers, and judging by the response of these two and three year olds, the show has successfully reached that audience. And then some. As I can ger1mr1eh see from experience, children love Barney. And they love this dinosaur more than could ever love Mr. Rogers or even Bert and Ernie. I think this is because Barney is essentially lovable for children: he is literally a favorite stuffed animal come to life. There is your ontology, Mr. Feldman, and of a child, Barney tries to remind us, is sometimes more real than the reality we tell our children to believe in. I have a friend who, like you, finds fault with the music Well, it is not very original, that's true, but those benefit, and that is why are sung by children. The kids adore with Barney because the music stays simple and it sounds inane to our cu Iti vated ears. connecting the beasts" of Jurassic Park with Barney, be preposterous. Any adult who '95: may have been most oin1-.rn.nri:0t" President Nelson appeared first on stage to greet the many parents who had shown up for Parent's Weekend. Then Mr. Datchev, food. dilemma of children's television:" Give me a f***ing break Staff writer Since his lecture was entitled "The tsegrnmnHz of All the fact that Mr. Datchev' s to such an unusual Santa Fe and attiemnte:d here last year under the direction of China In response to Mr. Feldman's October 26th article entitled "The the co-op consists of students using their what I believe was his first Friday night lecture, rapidly came consumption every the stage. He announced that he was told there would be water and night. Two or three students agree upon the recipe and there was no water on the podium. Next, Mr. Datchev made a few and preparing one dish for S. Ganson '95 director of food service. Mr. Pfister orders apologetic remarks for his foreign accent and then began his lecture, the ingredients, based upon the reasonableness of the demand (i.e. although by the end of the lecture everyone was left qu1est11onin1I confer with Mike Justin Maddox '95 The Session of the Board of Visitors and Governors for St. John's was held on October 23. This is a medium for all the Board committee chairmen to their reports for the and deans of both colleges quarter, as well as to explain the state of campuses. The information to any Johnnie concerned his education. There's a lot to report, so President Nelson and Dean accreditation committee for the luck": establish"'"'°''"''''" etc., but esr,eciall seven of nor fresh asparagus out of season). no lobster tails for . _, .... ,, ...., '"' ... , afternoon the student chefs don and toques and head for the kitchen where the miracle of transubstantiation takes turn the of your hands John's. One of The Man's criticisms included a 1e~;s-1mam-1co1rm::1Hrnen tary evaluation of our freshman and senior '"'""'"·~" "not as as could be." But in ''""'nnrt that the reason a flaw was discovered is ~N,hnh 1 " because John's submitted a evaluation to The Man. In the The ourselves too hard. Miss Brann's was Mr. Nelson, who summed up as a document on how to teach students of diverse a copy from the SCI. Mr. Nelson referred to fairness of the great amount of on the tutors. The students and books are to just as large a role. Another~'"'''"''"''"'" is time for reflection in tutorials answer, Mr. Nelson said that "The Middle concept in the policy defends the uncommon rote learning essential to education. Ouch. President Agresto (Santa Fe) was happy to say that St. John's new popularity is and an indication of things to come, around the country. Our knit communities, low faculty to student ratios, and disgust correctness all rn,nt11>J1u1 rl on page 4) even this. According to Mr . was the is not an historical nrt•hlP.rn problem, specifically epistemo1ogical. He to arguments of Jacob Klein and Husserl. even have the kind assistance of some of the regular Marriott chefs, priests and priestesses in their own the aforesaid miracle three times a who often without any Mr. Datchev went on to discuss a few famous explanations for the beginning of the world. The Big Bang theory, the beginning was 15 billion years ago, was examined first and it was explained how this theory became a part of the cosmological debate. than a Davct1eck. As part of this analysis, Mr. Datchev said, " ... if luck has ""' ,~h.,., n to do with averages, we are lucky to be alive." Second, Mr. Datchev discussed the earlier Steady State you eat in n.HVvfi.HlJ" serious judgement. And in response to perhaps the most disturbing part of your article, the grim conclusion, I any television program, no matter how can corrupt an entire a1tlhm1gil if il resulted in creative, loving, positive human beings, who would Barney is totally devoid of all the ironic wit charm we restarting an idea which into our own hands by Ben Feldman '94 world has always existed and is always expanding. Mr. Datchev when viewed in retrospect, the Big into your work and others are and love. You leave them sense of satisfaction." eat; this is my that the which " ... evolves from a of events pigeon Big Bang exist 80 years ago?", that is, before it was nr,""'"'"'"' Mr. Datchev concluded that "existence is What is more, you get satisfaction from that others rir.rw.,·~u•n,, In his next section, Mr. Datchev asked the question, "Did the "being is confirmed ,._,.,""~'n.~n•" theory." From this, a provisional history is and gone their way, formed, said Mr. Datchev. Mr. Datchev's concluding remark was: satisfied. If that is not enough, you also get to have a fun time in the "the only way to close the question is to abolish it, and reach the end have come and of your (responsibly, b~~ne:ricmc:e in an institutional kitchen is also a plus if you ever need a job later in life your gadgets and sharp you are in between having received Ph.D. in and Basket Weaving of all things." The question period was standing room The highlight was a long exchange of comments between two tutors: Mrs. Masch1er and Mr. Lenkowski. I am still rather confused by the point of the lecture's conclusion and getting that teaching post at both for students to and I do not think I am alone, for this was asked about by many lend their labor and their ideas for recipes. For all those interested, individuals in the question period. I was also disappointed that the please contact me in person or lecture ha11dcmt, a play on the opening of the Book of Genesis, was I saying "you" because I am campus mail. All you who cornplam about the quality of the food here have no excuse not to sign up immediately. Put your mouth where your money is and come out for the team! all but ignored. �the second i~ Xerxes, at the end of Book namelessness of these two in this book so dedicated to preserving fame that no one goes nameless -even slaves. Both of �November 2, 993 6 The Nathan I have the honor to inform you of the events that on the 19th of October at the of the Delegate Council. 1. Mr. esq., gave an exchequers' report. We retain $6,000 unallocated dollars this semester and can call upon $1,500 more should the need arise. 2. A report was given on the parking situation. Briefly, thus: There are plenty of spaces left on a daily basis in the overflow lot which is much safer now than last year. Members of the Graduate Institute pay as much as undergraduates for the exact same privileges. 3. It was decided that we need more information before we can order cable. I am in charge of acthis information. At this President Hermanoff adjourned the meeting. I also append the notes of the meeting of the delegate council which took place on the 26th of October. 1. President Herrnanoff asked about the advisability of having condoms in those bathrooms that are not serviced by RA.' s -- i.e., Pinkney and Chase Stone. It was decided to add this responsibility to the tasks that representatives already undertake. 2. Susanna Beiser asked for and received $400 for the small chorus so that scores could be purchased for the upcoming season. At this President Hermanoff adjourned the me:eung. On the agenda for next weeks' session: 1. John Archer asks for exactly $23. 73 for the darkroom associates. A King's Best Boy is a cabin boy, one step below a midshipman. Sirs, I have the dubious honor to remain, Your Obedient Servant, Imam Sawez, KCE November 2, 993 The '96 Last Friday, October went to an 1: 15 showing of Robert Altman' s new Cuts, which is playing in the District at Cineplex Odeon Uptown Theatre on Connecticut Avenue. I went with Todd Stregiel (yes, "Barney at Large") and others Geo Metro. Too many others: I in his was crammed in the trunk. those of you concerned about don't be. It was a na1tcnoa1cK. that. The discomfort n.i-m•• ~;,~n for many, many times to witness gorgeous giant screen. For those of you who don't know who Robert Altman is, you should. I however, was only recently mtro<luc:ecl him through his last picture, The scorching black comic indictment He also directed Hollywood it was a movie first original Donald before Alan and box office bomb starring Robin Williams among many other films. Nashville employed the style of filmmaking for which Altman has become famous: the collage. Those of you who saw Slacker witnessed another director's take on this style. it involves numerous a11 woven into one characters and tapestry a movie. This is Short Cuts in a nutshell. µ1"'""''"'"" Andie MacDowell, Bruce Jennifer Jason Chris Penn, Lili Taylor, Robert Downey, Jr., Madeleine Stowe, Tim Robbins, Lily Tomlin, Tom Waits (yes, Tom Waits. .. the Tom Frances McDormand, Peter Gallagher, Annie Ross, Lori Singer, three I think are all Lewis. short those from Roman or Orthodox traditions will find the form ""'·' c""' to the office in their own 11u~1~1c;,;:i However, no liturgical is just a desire to participate. am antici:oating offering Evensong from 6: 10 to 7: 10 p.m. Wednesdays, when it will be from 9: 15 to 1 on on Please Sus3an Director of Residence many worn out, I greatly moved. You may have noticed that this is not a conventional review. I haven't told about the specifics of the variI'm not going to, because entice to see this I SEE THIS MOVIE. it. The common form is, rorex:1m101e. the case of the of an essay, the alternate grade indicated becomes the work is not made up final grade if the before the end of the second semester, the case of work left over from the first the end of the first semester in the case over from the second semester of the previous academic year. An incomplete grade in an annual be completed at any time. If a tutor essay fails to an alternate grade, the alternate is presumed to be F. Policy on incomplete grades for January Freshmen: Incomplete grades for the first semester (spring semester) must be completed bv the end of the fall semester. Incomplete grades for the summer semester must be completed by the end of the next spring semester. Qualification: Incomplete grades are intended to give some leeway in case of true emergencies, such as sickness. The French Reading scheduled for Tuesday, l'\.1n"1"1.,.,h,or 301s a 2-hourexamination and will begin at 3:45 p.m. on the third floor of McDowell. Ex~mination There is room for three women and two men who would welcome a visit/retreat to a Benedictine monastery near Elmira, New York, over Thanksgiving weekend. Anyone interested should contact Mr. Sparrow at 263-9351 or through c.ampus mail as soon as possible - first come, first served. We will leave Wednesday morning, November 24, around nine o'clock, and return to the area late Sunday afternoon November There is no fixed charge for the retreat, but the monks accept offerings. Offering a fine selection of choice nuts, candies and gifts at reasonable JOo/o Women 35 years of age and older can receive free mammograms in Annapolis on Wednesday, November 17; an appointment is necessary. Women arc encouraged to follow their screening with a complete exam and Pap Test which are on that day at a specially reduced fee. Sponsored by Planned Parenthood Annapolis in with General Hospital, Lhe no-cost mammograms take place at 929 West Street. To schedule an appointment for a free mammogram, and to learn more about reduced rates for a gynecological examination, call Planned Parenthood at (410) 263-2100. L/L,\LUUTll 158 Main St. Historic (410) 268-3116 ANNAPOLIS COUNTRY STORE 53 Maryland Avenue 21401 Tel. 410-269-6773 t O.mfi dent i a1 Dear Students: On S~ptember 8 I notified those of you who are class1f1ed as "dependent" that in would write to your parents to tell them you needed to satisfy a condition to return in fall. I should have mentioned that I will do the same for the fall semester, if necessary. Eva T. H. Brann Dean Francis Keller Phone 263-2066 56 Avenue Annapolis, Maryland 21401 +tax Phone and Mail Orders Invited Master Card •Visa • American Express We Ship UPS �8 2, 1993 first wise, principled, and successful we in the book. Cyrus, even in his Eden, neglects: in The strength of this woman is a the story we noted above, he says that "from the same land do not come both wonderful fruit and men -andras- good at war. How does Cyrus of Lydia, we find Cyrus insatiable in his desire for Somewhere east of the Caspian Sea he encounters the M<1ss;1getae, a woman. The customs of the Massagetae are not - in fact, they seem to regard women as the common copulating facilities for men [I.216]; Herodotus explains that Tomyris rules because she is the widow of the king. [I.205] will not rel1earse the wriok: st<)rvtor· vou: Persians their only defeat, a you now that Tomyris hands Cyrus and dies in the Herodotus calls "the greatest ever between two barbarian nations. battle, bested by a woman. After the battle, Tomyris searches for curses it for the senseless aggression and had it, and shoves it into a wineskin full of human blood, crying: never leave their never full of blood, as I had promised." The become soft. They are perhaps the hardest in the book; Tomyris is surely the "'the great and This is no doing so in the hearth and home as it does on the battlefield. One might ask, last of all, whether Herodotus records remarkable women only among the barbarian; and, if so, whether this could be connected the Greek of public deliberation? This is a difficult question; let me suggest this approach to it. of Xerxes' is Halicarnassus. She must be some kind of Greek descent; she is the ruler of Herodotus' own city of Ionia. She is the peer or better of Croesus, Demeratus, and Artabanus, in counsel, and she leads her own success. Yet her position still Greek general. She we cannot imagine a woman as a "historical" (not seems to be linked inextricably to Eastern satrapies rather than to the Greek agora. But she is not at home in these Herodotus points more than once that the another is "Woman. Note that this 1m1precat10n worst thing one Persian can would have very much the same force as "barbarian" tn ''nrnP ·"'"'t foreign inferior, if not inc:on1preh<::nsible, in customs. m 1ts Inquiries show that both of these ways of speaking are mistaken. Founded in 1980, Editors-in-Chief: David Q. Clement and Alexander S. Battles Assistant Editor: Benjamin H. Feldman Unfortunate Editor: Nathan Jongewaard Advertising Manager: Marissa Mijal Production Staff: John Archer, James Cobern Stapling Queen: Heather Niemeyer Printing by St. John's College Print Shop � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The Gadfly</em> Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, <em>The </em><em>Gadfly</em> is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the <em>The Gadfly</em> Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 8 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Clement, David Q. (Editor-in-Chief) Battles, Alexander S. (Editor-in-Chief) Title A name given to the resource The Gadfly, Vol XV Issue 4 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1993-11-02 Description An account of the resource Volume XV, Issue 4 of The Gadfly. Published November 02, 1993. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 15 #4 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Gadfly Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/4a8944427cbb7166d6849bc515583fdb.pdf dce026e7d768e97d2ce79b0c902220cb PDF Text Text Aaron Lewis '95 every tnterr1at1onal News- In Somalia the United States has assumed a nonchalance towards the "lesser breeds without the law" who are Df<)D'H!attm rest of Somalia consume itself in its intestine feuds. North of our machine gun fire. As fire bar's patrons, the gunmen hollered "trick or treat." �993 2 tutor in addressed statement along with many other important and interesting owestion,s. forum on her statement on Wednesday, encourages Mr. Stickle and the student body to S. C. not to throw sand in wanted to start trouble. say: no Jews, no blacks. And evc~nnJau tance and suits. I associate the,.,,...,.,,,,,,,.,,..,~ this last bit of with the onset of As we were our it became apparent that there was "all of us" I mean those not room in the car for all of us. tabulated below in order. members of the Andre llJ~rl.ri1nn ' Ben came East for three weeks at the end We decided celebrate his visit with a to the beach. Such a was a therapeutic ritual of sand the enactment of an annual and surf. I like to tell folks that I grew up at the beach. true, this assertion gives the wrong impression of one I grew up in New the sandy shores of Martha's ·~~ .. ~~ .. ,Connecticut, in circumstances even a trip to Martha's Vineyard, much less a summer on the shore. But New London is situated near the mouth of Long Island Sound and has a large public beach where I hung out during the summer. I got the opportunity to rub elbows with a certain summer-place-at-the-beach folks. I obtained a job as at one of the beaches in town. I discovered that Jews and blacks were prohibited not only from me:ml)erstnp in the beach association but also from merely stepping on the sand. The beach me a lot. I learned how to swim rather well man must have laws The commotion over reminded me a colleague several years ago. She had commented on how much her She dog playing with the children in the noted further that she would like to have children of her own so that her have someone around the house to them to Her remarks were as I our The conversation occurred a few years ago when we never would have ocwere between dogs, curred to me at the time to describe our condition that way. The dog, had been with us for years. Sure enough, the kids and the dog But after many years, Margaret grew old and suffered from a number ailments. Evenwe euthanized her. And yet we still had the kids. trr. r.1 .... ..,, part. No three kids. It would seem as outlasted their usefulness. I these had come the same Her solution to the nn1n1PTn oooo:mc to the one that had occurred to me, and now we 11 I try to to year. For ex<:tmtJle, to ourselves. blood * * * father lot orc>01em1s Dear editors: overflow than last seeing my car of its and wheels. lying on some on Monday, November very lot. The theft occurred "'v'"u"""' without full benefit got to work, knowing that the coast was clear for the time being. also knew where to find wood at power plant to prop up the car while they soi twas most someone from the area. When I told someone my car was they admonished me for parking there in the behind. congiratiulateCI one another on our display of matuexuded moral ac<:or,Clrnlg to species was i;;;~~11;;;1v1a11 cious needed to leave one member of the one dog in the behind at the kennel, and there was Needless to say, when it became that we were going to leave behind while we all went to the beach, there arose considerable ruckus. "Lucy's noc ccm1mg going to take care of her?" would enjoy the beach." "You mean she's going to stay in a kennel?" "Locked in a cage!" "It's not fair." "Poor Lucy." Aatan1artUy I maintained that the decision was the best overall. I was distracted the prospect that a the music that we were all ""'·""'",.., lllustrated swim suit sports, must refer to .. h.,tr..nn suit." Their must a sport, except among children, is In any event, this latestdeve1oi::)m1~nt perplexing and contrary to progress. decent suit presents some m1:en~snmg engn1ee:nr1g lenges. for one year when I was cor:mnuea on page 4) �l November 9, 993 The arrived as Frank Sinatra's "Duets" hit the shelves. This album features tunes in duct form with: cornerstones of consequences in as the rasp in his tired otherwise non-existent on the stroys Sinatra's Anita saves the song, but not Frank's face. assume that this song was recorded as the last of a session. The liner notes say that nine of these "Witchcraft" were recorded in one the ninth. nrr,h»hiu that his voice wasn't up for this which is he held back at the beginning of the song, but the end, there was no dH'FF'"h the inevitable. It's ashame that Phil Ramone, the album's didn't get take of this one on a better The album contains three throw away tunes, which don't move me at all. The either hurt page 3) traditional boxer shorts. not had a needless to say, I broke down. The old Visa card left the confines my wa11et to robbed $14.99 tax. "Duets" contains the Sinatra of compare to "Duets" has another flaw that should be apparent Sinatra fans. two ms:tar1ces, Barbara Streisand and Anita Frank's who circles around Sinatra. By the end of the tune, Frank seems to be it out, as Barbara's voice floats around his in a In with Anita Baker, Sinatra sounds like someone has the corners of his mouth sing Once with Willie Nelson, instead his bounds as he does here. In the same way, Gloria Estefan should stick the Sound Machine. Her voice, sweet, better to suited to the pop world. poser since Cole, the Connick Jr., turns in a worthless perCan't Take That formance on From The songs U><>t11r1n'1' above him. This is a fine as well to the standards. Liza's song, 'T ve Got the World on a should any Minnelli fan. She doesn't do a poor of it, but she doesn't belt it like 'T ve Got the ... "should be belted and like know she can. guess here is that Liza, class act that she is, held back so as not lo show up Sinatra. A good when Streisand's makes Frank look on his own album. as her is h,.n,,•h•.-. The main course, the duet akin to Lou Rawls', Bono flies off falsetto. When I a woman was checked the liner notes. No, that's Bono. favorite part of the song comes when Bono into his a last name. The real gems of the album lie Frank's duets G and latter shines a brilliant version of from 'New York, New York'. instrumental/voice duet on the renewed my faith in Frank as a The artist of the present. One More For The intro to the saloon song of all saloon songs. "One For (And More The heads my list of favorite Sinatra tunes. This version, with G while not the the ctr,Pn1-.-th to end the album in mood make almost any listener spent$ 4.99 tax on it. In this album was not a total loss. One of the hooks that made me it was the outside was great, the liner notes written �6 November 9, 1993 - - - - - - - - - - The �--, ...,,,~,.,,~,.,.., comr1an1es for the reasons menAmerican industries take advanthat wages, is more seek countries with even lower regard!less of NAFT A. economy is can't afford to that much from us. Yet it is a nascent economy that is need of our and to build up its infrastrucof Mexico. which has been estimated at 6 to 7 per cent if NAFTA is could '""~"'"~" into a trillion-dollar economy double the current economy of Canada, our best NAFT A would not guarantee America as the bestsituated of and services to an unrestricted access of all that purcr1asrng would also prove encourties our commit- I a gesture which Latin expect these standards? what has been said earlier, NAFTA's passage is nn,mnfP America has often been felt to be undennined in the past war po1mca1 of for excroonUnder ics. seas. three pn:Jm11n1ent Democrats in last namonitored local elections. George Sue in VirAllen clobbered Whitman smashed Jim Florio in New Jersey's gubernatorial and Giuliani brought down incumbent David Dinkins in the New York elections. Political analysts are victories as a Republican coolest guys on the guy didn't even Sinatra recorded for four record labels. But as the I wish the entire album could have been like "New The song duets Sinatra and Bill Miller. No orchestra, no Gloria Estefan, just Frank and his Until then, I won't be any more Sinatra because after this purl shredded my Visa card. �287 if you have any qu,est1or1s or would like to pa1rt1c JP<lte. Nathan James ttu1m1ph1rev St John's Christian with Maureen Witness 1-'.-r".,,.,....,rn All are invited to attend. Detch '96 to Mt. Saviour There is room for three women and two men who would welcome a visit/retreat to a Benedictine monastery near over weekend. interested should contact Mr. 263-9351 or campus mail as soon as possible - first come. first served. We leave around nine area late afternoon November 28. There is no fixed charge for the retreat, but the monks accept ~· ,_.,,,,_,~. EMT'I' .. ,,..... , •.,.,,,. Are you interested in '""::irn n° that could be used to others and Iam interest at St. John's to form an Emergency Medical Technician course. This course would and skill completion of the course and the test you would he a certified EMT most basic level of a EMT course is 11 when it will 10: 15 p.m., due to my me at ext. 267-6428 57 Maryland Ave., Annapolis appears that her net effect on society zilch because noone really to listen to her. In fact I'm even tired about her for the time being. 21401 ----------- Francis Keller Phone 263-2066 +tax ----------- I I �2 November 9, The page chances score a including their own attempt to recreate the "Fumble.'' A round of ._,v111,1;:,1uLLua1uv1.10 and everyone retired to take warm, special round of goes to Mr. Pickens and his .., .... ,_, .... ,_,,..., Liz both of who stood in the rain for three hours without any apparent means of fortification. cont. useful if you a lot of time in outdoor recreation or are interested in a medical or law enforcement career. As for sake is beautiful. The course would be over second semester. It would about seven hours a hours on a week and four hours on the "'"'"'1t·pnr1 The current cost of the course is about the 8 to have this course. If your are mten~st~~d. cut out this form and mail it to Scott Saxman have call me at 2803478. Editors-in-Chief: Q. Clement Assistant Editor: Benjamin H. Feldman Unfortunate Editor: Nathan Jongewaard Advertising Manager: Marissa Mijal Production Manager: Lori L. Williamson Circulation Manager: Beth Martin Founded in 1980, The Gadfly is an independent student weekly distrit>Utt~d over 600 students, faculty, and staff of Annapolis campus as well as emeriti, members of the board of visitors and governors, and the offices at the opinions expressed within are the sole respo1n.s1IJ1llty John's Santa Fe Campus. the author. The Gadfly reserves the right to accept, reject, and edit all sut)mi.ss1 ons way necessary most professional, informative, entertaining, thought-provoking newspaper which circumstances at St. John's permit. Yearly subscriptions are available for $30.00. greatly appreciated. Please make checks payable to The Gadfly. display advertisement prices and information, call 263-2371, ext. 320. Deadline: 5:00 p.m. Friday. Submissions may be submitted in any M<tcu1tm;n1 based word processing format on a 3 l /2" floppy disk along with a typed, spaced copy. Otherwise, typed, double-spaced submissions are acceptable. 1 � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The Gadfly</em> Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, <em>The </em><em>Gadfly</em> is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the <em>The Gadfly</em> Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 12 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Clement, David Q. (Editor-in-Chief) Battles, Alexander S. (Editor-in-Chief) Title A name given to the resource The Gadfly, Vol XV Issue 5 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1993-11-09 Description An account of the resource Volume XV, Issue 5 of The Gadfly. Published November 09, 1993. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 15 #5 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Gadfly Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/fe0f332519920f9ed671609e88f0cb80.pdf 772519e8f7e760ce659593d3fc449b9e PDF Text Text 11111 I r I �2 November 3 993 would be the your own cartoon, I'm sure he'd on to suggest that women torture and annoy men. We have not found this to be true.We sort oflike women. Dear . ._,,_,u~=~11: L<>mrniunitv and s1gmt11cai1t number of volunteers to remove said garbage, next waltz party (Nov. 20) will be This decision was reached the waltz committee after much debate. Half of the committee wanted to cancel the remainder of the waltz for the remainder of the se- means that champagne will be allowed in the Great Hall for the duration of the party. If you be asked just a one-time If you have any qw~shons comments co:ncE~rn1ine: Archon Editors' Note: The letter to the editor in the last issue from Sean Stickle was, in fact, conceived and Mr. accented and was not a Thank you. who helped me Nathan Jor1rrewaard for giving '-''-''~vuu. I'd like to thank Dave and end. To all the staff who kept Archer and the rest, I thank Beth for hAlnu·•~ who has done more to help me and as name is Ben been a staff he hasn't Thanks again to Ben and all the We think they are neat. The cartoon goes even further and states that men are "cursed ... obnoxious ... and dumb." This is dumb. We know a lot of men are obnoxious and suck. Not to mention that most of the great geniuses throughout history have been men. some women in this school would 1mam1ablv angry. Let's show the same respect for men! Let us use basic Nathan J 011ge~wa1ard Therefore Nathan Jm1i:re:wa::irc dumb. We feel that the Grant Edmonts '97 Derek '97 P.S. To the frosh who proma ised to help clean up we tango but then never showed up to FUCK YOU!!! this letter? Dear ,_nu.u•"· We are deeply offended by the recent suggestion in your newspaper that women are somehow superior to men. This was made in the "comic" titled "The Unfortunate Lad." The cartoon beby SUg)(eSlting 1- Brock '94 Alex and Dave. �4 1993 ruronms and preparatory in nature. It is •m'"""'P"be offered so that are able to insist on and track the class ... " The students at the forum felt that this was The dictate the success of mental to the classroom. The forum felt that tutors simply do on preparation, and that sentiment should not enforced. are tutors who the learning of a lot of technical themselves and their students as a talk. And then there are tutors who give reflective of even conversation at the expense of this or that stretch careful VIII and Vigor) The ~"'"hr.,•l•:n· '-'""''"'un this question was aclicn<)Wledli;ma. for it is akin to the middle way. it is here that we must to achieve a balance. For what is the purpose demonstrations without the enterprise? Furof Ptolemy's account without The two methods of •..., . . .., ...,.. ,., and for that is IP"1TTI11Tl<J that as the amount of tea.ch1mg "'"'~"'''"'""'"'' in im;1g1nat1ve excellence. However, when tenure, the teachimg excellence should be more closely examof tenure, one's intellect and imagination aei.re!1)oe:a in him/her the sensitivity and creativity that the students for an necessitates. There was a call of tutors. For the forum felt increased attentiveness that more than that will be the ae've11001ne1m of true excellence. that this report will be helpful to you all. It is very we11 instructing to build a house. I not, however, for we are �6 The November "- 1 ~""''"nh<~r 16, 1993 :......~~~~~~~~~--~~~~~~~~~~- The ...... ~~ ...... ,L. • The Women's soccer team, the to the astro turf of the ,_.,..,...... 1.r,,n° Blue 1v1r1nn,pra scored an indirect kick, and Miss Cate scored from around the 20 ~~ ..,. .. ,..,,was awesome. She game of her life. She stoppe~CI and many shots on Miss Odum also well. We shoulda' won." The Kuvwv last game is this School. And this from Miss '"' m r n John's Union's ,..,..,.1--,. ..., ... busy two weeks for the St. John's Union. First, on October 24, the SJCFU hosted a USF A U 111 1 the women's novice four of Fremont, with Leadem as coxswain won a silver medal. The men's novice Nyberg, Stevens, with Leake as coxswain rowed their hearts out, and may have taken first were not for a for were 500 meters from the finish. Novice coach Dave class of is be commended for a great season. Jockette of the Week honors go to Miss ha1dh<m1, the awesome freshman baswho score 19 in a 12:a1me-Jm the first half!!!!off to her All I reckon. Jock of the Week honors go to Mr. '-''-•Ju"'-· who has completely injury from last year, per·rmna11ce on soccer field is any indication. He's back to his old ways of mid-field and a bill of five business by a Bill" (nicknamed for former White House press secretary Jam es who was wounded in the assassination attempt on former president Ronald will now pass on to the Senate to be voted on next week. MICKEY MOUSE INVADES VA. will not pn)pagai1aa of the country," Eisner also commented. The still faces some OPJJos.n1cm from local residents who are leery in their back- ob11ec1t1011s from many sides with Mickey former Presidential candidate Mouse look alike) Ross Perot leading the •,,,,,.,,n"" that America stands to lose and suffer from the passage of this bill, Perot has been lobbying in Washington over the past few weeks. However, the bombastic, chart-totPerot suffered a blow to his ego last when he and Vice President Al sqtian:~d off in a debate about NAFTA Live". Perot dis- page 6) NFL CONFERENCE LEADERS AFC EASTBuffalo we can win a superbowl) 7-1 AFC Central- Cleveland Browns and tied at 5-3 AFC WEST- Kansas City (no, our name is P.C.) Chiefs, 6-2 NFCEAST- Dallas(noreally, Johnson isn't ajerk) Cowboys, 6-2 NFC CENTRAL-Detroit 7-2 NFC WEST-New Orleans (WHOOMP! There it Saints, 6-2 NBA LEADERS ATLANTIC- New York Knicks, 4-0 CENTRAL- Chicago 3-1 WESTERN CONFERENCE MIDWEST- Houston, 3-0 PACIFIC- Seattle Supersonics, 3-0 AND LASTLY ... A recent study Harvard Medical School researcher James Muller shows aHJtlm1gn sexual slightly raises the a heart attack, it is much more "'"'""'''"get one from getting up ,,,,_,., ., ... ,_,,. A good argument for IVlr\nn1-::n1 morning huh? 53 Avenue Annapolis, Maryland 21401 Tel. 410-269-6773 Phone and Mail Orders Invited Master Card .. Visa " American Express Francis Keller Phone 263-2066 We Ship UPS +tax \l I 7 �8 9 grass." months ago, a naive young I did not realize the ge~::mc)lltion the cal of the institution I was study at for the next four years. I did not see St. John's as other than a of higher learning. I know the truth ... that St. John's is the center of an enormous 1nt1>rr,l<11nPtClt''1 f'CYnCT)1T,lf''1 first hint as to the nature of this after my arrival when,.,.,,,~~.,~~ thr.r.•"''h the student manual I came upon an ominous "The campus between Mellon Hall and vVHvj","-'' is not safe after dark. ing was vague to be tn)~htemng. I admit, curiosity got the better of me, and one I headed down there alone after sernmar riskingmy welfareforthe sake of scientific observation. my excursion was int<>rr·11nt<>rl "Just lawn. Just lawn? Could this be what the administration is from us? I think not! Remember the was out of covered with small lacerations several weeks a crack dealer or a c 1u 1~t.11",'C,'2,t,. but a victim of an alien attack! It has taken many hours of oond{~nrig and research arrive at this conclusion. I have had the of several sleuths among the student whose protect. Let me start at the that the average his tenure here at St. counterparts, and sent agents to Earth sure that there was sufficient Earth to build baby tech- are of a sinister to look upon student's behavior with Late into the when nrr•nr1Ph1 gone to bed, I have been audience to not a few students who have told that it is not faith, and charity both their and obligatory that adventures at St. but rather a strain of it is meet and I discuss student life at St. John's in terms of the is mother Let us take ourselves hack to ancient where group of wisemen meet with the Pharaoh. nr,>rlr.m1n-::i·nt sin on campus is Pride rears its and the voice of "Who is that?" "Who is what?" I "Where are you he no longer cared who I was. ""'0"''A'H Tum around and go back." I did as I was waJKin£away, I heard breath in a very :Sh~ot1en """"'""·-""·"'·~•vu·~·" "Even I am afraid to go dark. he had heard that crack dealers and cutthroats lurk down there, creatures of came in a eyes. I assumed he had been this was not so. He said that he had been down in the lower back caimous--ar1d to tell! "What is down there?" eagerly. "Can I have a blunt and an"",.."~"" bad guys," he almost as programmed to say it. emy seems too many tourists who sornethu1_g afoul. an nn,rlPY'Hl~bfPT l<:>hU1''1nth in made a subtle miscalculation, and that the land our existence there are extraterrestrials in our colThe first step is non-believers. this article. 10% discount to all students & 800-736-0876 Across from campus and angry behavior of our students the campus is often a furniture and beer bottles. And because St. Johnnies are so overwhelmed by their own sloth or indolence the campus remains a mess for some time. outset of a St. J ohrmies' stay here m it's possible that he or she will not commit the deadly sins of covetousness and envy. Nevertheless, any St. Johnnie will eventually err in those ways. When confronted with the mental The Unfortunate Lad mission that teed upon gnadu.ation. Memento Mori. �1993 November 1993 The Tomorrow at 4:00 p.m. in the Mitchell and James Cobern will lead a discussion on the prints in the current exhibition: "Prints theNabis: Vuillard and his I 'n.ntc>rn1nru·.-,r_ ies". We strongly encourage stuaems cv ...,,_,.,,...,, as this is an unique Annr.rh1n.t" conversation on important works of art with the actual works present. The Nabis brew for "prophet") were a group of painters who were the literal and-tlOl1r"'>t1'1P rl•~~•~l,~r of Paul Gauguin, and thus the founders of French at the turn of the century. The works in the exhibition bear witness to the transition between r1°.-..,rt r<> from strict imitation and an entry into the looser of the one NovemSl£'.natun~s that appear on more than will be r1;n~ .. ,,u;.i-·;~r1 of the first semester to the second semester. No postponements will be UH\.YVV\~U reasons. There will also be a "Meet the Candidates" forum on Tuesday, November at in the Conversation Room. At this the candidates will introduce for Delegate elections at the end of this semester. Contact your current Dormitory for details. with qw~stions should contact J. H. Hermanoff campus mail or 626-1373. November we have r",.""'"",, and set aside all items from storage boxed and/or labeled. 11 any artistic movement, or discussing visual art in is necessary order to in the discussion. ;:,1u·iu.:i·•n, is functional after its extended illness. The latest version of WordPerfect for Windows should be installed by the time you read this. Users of others of programs are on nrtil-'.~rt,o.,-.t Users tions about the MS-DOS machine should contact me and not Chad Sebastian Ganson, Matthew Fremont ct al. Matthew Braithwaite ext. 319 or 280-6654 All those who are interested in the office of DC President must submit a nAt 1 t.r.n for nomination bearing the s1gna1tun~s twenty polity members to B. Feldman by November 19. All those interested in the offices of either DC ~e,cre~tax·v Treasurer must submit a ""'t1t.r..... The final examination for the first semester of the 1993-94 academic year will be given on: amination is scheduled for: 1993 at 3:45 is two-hour examination. '""'"'"'"'""'to take either of the above you the proctor your St. John's 'L-'1ll'-'<~"' Identification Card or a valid driver's license. will record your name on the examination as it appears on your identification. Examinations will not be anyone who does not identification. as stated in the Dean's letter of 1993: Sophomores who have not passed the Algebra examination the vcrsation room, Ed at American will lecture on the influence of Thomas Jefferson the WashD.C. school system. Mr. Smith's lectures here at St. John's has have extraordinarto what �1993 � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The Gadfly</em> Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, <em>The </em><em>Gadfly</em> is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the <em>The Gadfly</em> Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 12 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Clement, David Q. (Editor-in-Chief) Battles, Alexander S. (Editor-in-Chief) Title A name given to the resource The Gadfly, Vol XV Issue 6 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1993-11-16 Description An account of the resource Volume XV, Issue 6 of The Gadfly. Published November 16, 1993. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 15 #6 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Gadfly Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/60c8d5a49081aadcbf9243855168d805.pdf de2b59d31221363596a5afeb02f3c72f Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The Gadfly</em> Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, <em>The </em><em>Gadfly</em> is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the <em>The Gadfly</em> Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 12 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 14 #6 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Clement, David Q. (Editor-in-Chief) Battles, Alexander S. (Editor-in-Chief) Title A name given to the resource The Gadfly, Vol XIV Issue 6 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1992-10-20 Description An account of the resource Volume XIV, Issue 6 of The Gadfly. Published October 20, 1992. Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Gadfly Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/632544848ea17296b3ee32ace72070d4.pdf 852335632703cd41de9f79a43972f8d5 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The Gadfly</em> Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, <em>The </em><em>Gadfly</em> is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the <em>The Gadfly</em> Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 8 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 14 #7 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Clement, David Q. (Editor-in-Chief) Battles, Alexander S. (Editor-in-Chief) Title A name given to the resource The Gadfly, Vol XIV Issue 7 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1992-10-27 Description An account of the resource Volume XIV, Issue [7] of The Gadfly. Published October 27, 1992. (Handwritten note fixing the typo on the issue number.) Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Gadfly Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/7f5e5d5bb9042e2ef0bcadfa6fe6ec85.pdf 64be17b732c19d17c1804fa45ee31080 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource <em>The Gadfly</em> Description An account of the resource Founded in 1980, <em>The </em><em>Gadfly</em> is a weekly student publication distributed to over 600 students, faculty, and staff of the Annapolis campus.<br /><br />Click on <strong><a title="The Gadfly" href="https://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=16&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate&amp;sort_dir=d">Items in the <em>The Gadfly</em> Collection</a></strong> to view and sort all items in the collection. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Greenfield Library Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context thegadfly Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 16 pages Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data paper Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Vol. 14 #8 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Clement, David Q. (Editor-in-Chief) Battles, Alexander S. (Editor-in-Chief) Title A name given to the resource The Gadfly, Vol XIV Issue 8 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1992-11-10 Description An account of the resource Volume XIV, Issue 8 of The Gadfly. Published November 10, 1992. Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Annapolis, MD Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Language A language of the resource English Type The nature or genre of the resource text Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource St. John's College owns the rights to this publication. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Gadfly Student publication