35 20 5655 https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/fa19965fd498ad942013356e8c16f02e.mp3 dd9c9aefe0678114f869f85013e6f1a7 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 Lecture Recordings—Santa Fe Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Meem 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 CD Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 01:27:44 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 Beyond reductionism : biology as a liberal art Description An account of the resource Audio recording of a panel discussion that took place on April 5, 2013 as part of the Dean's Lecture and Concert Series. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Cornell, John F. Schneider, Gregory Wells, Llyd Wiener, Linda, 1957- Winslow, Russell (Russell E.) 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 Santa Fe, NM Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2013-04-05 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Meem Library 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 Subject The topic of the resource Biology -- addresses and essays. Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 20014076 Friday night lecture https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/5b72b61057ff88194b4ab48e75d38d3b.pdf 69959dfd9ea75643ba6aa6150fac82c5 PDF Text Text ������������������������ 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 Lecture Transcripts—Santa Fe Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Meem 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 at the Santa Fe, NM campus. 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 Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 24 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 Memorial to a woman with an alabaster jar : speculations on Matthew 24 to 26 Description An account of the resource Transcript of a lecture given in 1998 by John Cornell. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Cornell, John F. 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 Santa Fe, NM Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1998 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Meem Library has been given permission to make this item available online. Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Subject The topic of the resource Bible. Matthew -- Criticism, interpretation, etc. Poetry Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 24000471 https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/ca698e5400e8cdc307dde0479171a7e3.pdf 86fcb74798920eb76700bd820b75d121 PDF Text Text ������������������������������� 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 Lecture Transcripts—Santa Fe Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Meem 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 at the Santa Fe, NM campus. 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 Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 24 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 Anatomy of a scandal : self-dismemberment in the Gospel of Matthew (and in Gogol's "The Nose") Description An account of the resource Transcript of a lecture given on October 27, 2000 by John Cornell as part of the Dean's Lecture and Concert Series. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Cornell, John F. 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 Santa Fe, NM Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2000-10-27 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Meem Library has been given permission to make this item available online. Type The nature or genre of the resource text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Subject The topic of the resource Gogol, Nicolaĭ Vasil'evich, 1809-1852. Bible. Matthew -- Criticism, interpretation, etc. Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 24000597 Friday night lecture https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/53da1c2e1fa58e259af1a50c01eb6d08.pdf fbcd98de8a646bdc6561e4b62e1523af PDF Text Text ������������������������������� 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 Lecture Transcripts—Santa Fe Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Meem 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 at the Santa Fe, NM campus. 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 Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 21 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 Philosophy and resurrection : Spinoza's account of Christianity Description An account of the resource Transcript of a lecture given on October 11, 2002 by John Cornell as part of the Dean's Lecture and Concert Series. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Cornell, John F. 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 Santa Fe, NM Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2002-10-11 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Meem Library has been given permission to make this item available online. Type The nature or genre of the resource text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Subject The topic of the resource Spinoza, Benedictus de, 1632-1677. Bible Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 24000670 Friday night lecture https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/201603cbe162b46ae372d9d12efc065c.pdf 2a7b1ae38e4628ea621248532cc6fbb8 PDF Text Text ������������������������������ 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 Lecture Transcripts—Santa Fe Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Meem 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 at the Santa Fe, NM campus. 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 Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 29 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 A parable of scandal : speculations about the "wheat and the tares" Description An account of the resource Transcript of a lecture given in 1997 by John Cornell. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Cornell, John F. 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 Santa Fe, NM Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1997 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Meem Library has been given permission to make this item available online. Type The nature or genre of the resource text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Subject The topic of the resource Bible. Matthew -- Criticism, interpretation, etc. Parables Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 24003292 https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/4b1171254020c04edeb51c5309f98d7f.pdf e6633af5f381bc4bb4e43871f5f0fd2d PDF Text Text ����������������������� 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 Lecture Transcripts—Santa Fe Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Meem 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 at the Santa Fe, NM campus. 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 Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 23 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 On the argument of the Origin of species : the art of breeding and the explanation of nature Description An account of the resource Transcript of a lecture given in 1980 by John Cornell. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Cornell, John F. 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 Santa Fe, NM Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1980 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Meem Library has been given permission to make this item available online. Type The nature or genre of the resource text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Subject The topic of the resource Darwin, Charles, 1809-1882. On the origin of species. Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 24003340 https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/9c237790b3e3086f70e3c0b6f404b2c1.pdf 891b5ed8aec652b45cbbfdd5b3a35768 PDF Text Text ������������������������� 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 Lecture Transcripts—Santa Fe Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Meem 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 at the Santa Fe, NM campus. 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 Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 25 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 Re-inventing love : an introduction to Plato's Phaedrus Description An account of the resource Transcript of a lecture given on February 9, 2011 by John Cornell as part of the Dean's Lecture and Concert Series. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Cornell, John F. 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 Santa Fe, NM Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2011-02-11 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Meem Library has been given permission to make this item available online. Type The nature or genre of the resource text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Subject The topic of the resource Plato. Phaedrus. Love Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 24003997 https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/0cd44368a36a0a54444005da3647e0a7.mp3 8584eb2b4c5290785d5220db26a9ae87 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 Lecture Recordings—Santa Fe Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Meem 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 m4a Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 00:52:14 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 Faustian Phenomena: Goethe on Plants, Animals, and Modern Biologists Description An account of the resource Audio recording of a lecture given by tutor John Cornell on October 28, 2022 as part of the Dean's Lecture & Concert Series. The Dean's Office has provided this description of the event: "Goethe’s character Faust – based on the medieval legend about a man who makes a pact with the Devil -- is an archetype of the Western soul. Dissatisfied with life, Faust pursues the most intense adventures while remaining blind to the destruction he leaves in his path. But Goethe understood Faustian striving not just as a human affair but as characteristic of all living things. The theme runs through his extensive scientific writings, in particular, his accounts of the metamorphosis of plants and of the evolution of animals, including man. This talk will consider some of the poet-naturalist’s essays and the light they throw upon modern methods in biology." Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Cornell, John F. 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 Santa Fe, NM Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2022-10-28 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Meem Library 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 Subject The topic of the resource Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 1749-1832 Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SF_CornellJ_Faustian_Phenomena_2022-10-28 Friday night lecture https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/03c98bc76583e288de03b56c17e7a2b5.mp3 ae452dbc1f2deba29fe8dd8a0ce97e2f 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 Lecture Recordings—Santa Fe Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Meem 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 Santa Fe, NM 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 m4a Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 00:56:41 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 Parody in Paradise: Dante Takes on Thomas Aquinas Description An account of the resource Audio recording of a lecture given by Tutor Emeritus John Cornell on September 12, 2025 as part of the Dean’s Lecture & Concert Series. The Dean’s Office has provided this description of the event: "Dante’s Comedy is widely assumed to champion the teachings of Thomas Aquinas. Surely the test case for this conventional view is the episode in Paradiso where Dante imagines meeting up with the great defender of the faith. There, to our surprise, Thomas offers an extravagant tribute to the wisdom of Solomon, wisdom that he says has never been surpassed. Really? Not even by Christ? Thomas had better explain his accidental heresy. Does his apologetic performance succeed? Or is it part of the comedy of the Comedy?" Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Cornell, John F. 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 Santa Fe, NM Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2025-09-12 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource Meem Library 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 Subject The topic of the resource Dante Alighieri, 1265-1321. Divina commedia. Dante Alighieri, 1265-1321. Divine comedy. Thomas, Aquinas, Saint, 1225?-1274. Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SF_CornellJ_Parody_in_Paradise_2025-09-12 Friday night lecture https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/cc16d6fba38ffeca3274c55411042ceb.pdf 79996cd133dc774dce5c8fc5d6e42538 PDF Text Text The most prominent weapon against effors of any kind is reason. Thomas Paine, the Age of Reason The Coll gi n first est. 1888 Volume III Issue 1 But Socrates Goes On: Virtue and Wisdom \ in the Meno _\ (Author's Note: This paper :ontains a good deal of Greek, even though the volume of words has been greatly reduced from the originalversion. The reader is asked to keep the Greek words for the English equivalents in mind, as this paper is mainly a wordstudy for the passage dealt with.] Virtue is said to be "a sort of wisdom" at 88d3 of the Meno, yet this is not the conclusion the dialogue eventually reaches. What ~ed Socrates to and away from wisdom as the answer to virtue? Up to the point just mentioned in the dialogue, Meno had given three definitions for virtue, all based upon the action of the virtuous person. Socrates qualified each of these definitions by saying they had something to do with concepts such as justice, temperance, etc., and, because of this, there must be something that is virtue itself common to each and separable from these other "virtues." "The next point, then, I suppose, is to find out whethervirtue is knowledge (i.e. Emcr'tT\µT\. "understanding, skill, experience"), or something dif- BUT SOCRATES GOES ON THE COLLEGIAN SPEAKS FOR ITSELF THE BALEFUL EYE OF THE GREAT HORNED GOD RIDERS OF THE SAFFRON SAGE POETICAL CONSTRUCTION PSEUDOINTELLECTUALITY NOTE: ON BEING A VICTORIAN GENTLEMAN SKETCH OF WIND AND TREES 1.2 UNTITLED PHOTOGRAPH NOTE: ORGANIC FORMS IN MATHEMATICS Friday, October 25, 1991 ferent." (87c9) Socrates thus begins the section we are concerned with. Firstly, Meno agrees to Socrates' assertion that virtue is that which makes us good and the good is advantageous (87e1-6). The next point he makes is that everything the human spirit undertakes will lead to happiness when guided by wisdom (<j>povricncr, "practical wisdom," 88c1-2),butthatallspiritual qualities (nav'ta 'ta 'tT\O" 'l'UXT\O") in and by themselves are neither advantageous nor harmful, but become so with wisdom (<j>pOVT\crtO") or folly (88c5-d2). If all this is true, he says, then virtue, to be something advantageous, must be a sort of wisdom (88d2 HUMPHREY COWAN p. 1 p. 4 FRANCKE ASHLEY JOHNSON HOLMAN HUMPHREY JOHNSON FRANCKE KELLEY p. p. p. p. p. p. p. p. St. John's College, Annapolis, Md., 21404 6 7 8 11 12 13 14 15 �2~~~~~~~~-,-~~~~~~~~~,-~~~~~~~~- seems fine, and it even looks as if the dialogue has finally come to a solid conclusion. But Socrates goes on. He begins by stating that good men, then, cannot be good by nature.for if so, their good nature would be discerned at birth; but this cannot be, so therefore it must be gotten by learning (µa.011au, "desire or power of learning"). If virtue is knowledge, therefore it is teachable (oioa.Kwv), and if it is teachable, it therefore must have teachers and students (oioa.aKa.A.oua Kat µa.911'tCX.<J, 89a6-d7). He concludes from this that if there are no teachers or students of a subject, itcannotbetaught, and despite his best efforts, he has never found any teachers of virtue, even STAFF though he has had many Malik Gillani '92 fellow searchers (89e6-8). Deirdre Crosse '93 He then begins speaking Vanessa Stratton '93 with Anytus, who seems to Nathan J. Humphrey '94 confirm through his obstiSarah Stanley '95 nance that there are no Kathy Stolzenbach '95 teachers of virtue in Athens. Janice Thompson '95 And so virtue is not Shelly Young '95 wisdom. Or isn't it? The Dawn Beltz, GI argument flows smoothly David Dougherty, GI enough, but several points Jim Berrettini, GI stick out rather oddly in it. Anton Yoe, GI They all have to do with the definition of what is teachDianne J. Cowan able. Socrates seems to Robby Nease editors state categorically that whatever is knowledge is Kevin Dungey, faculty teachable, and if virtue is advisor knowledge, it must be teachable. Socrates alternates, however, between Printed at St. John's calling virtue knowledge College Print Shop through 3). This argument is strengthened even more when Socrates says immediately following this, at 88d10-e5, that the mind (VUX11) by its right use makes things profitable, and the right user of the mind (Eµcj>pEtV, "rightminded") is the wise man. Furthermore (88e7-89a1 ), the goodness of non-spiritual assets depends upon our spiritual character (-ca 't'T\<nlfUXT\<J), and the goodness of that on wisdom. The advantageous element must be wisdom, and virtue is advantageous, therefore virtue is wisdom (89a14). This is the gist of the argument. Everything here and calling it wisdom. What, then, is the difference, if any, between tm<J't'T\µ11 and cj>poVT\ma? According to Liddell and Scott, they both have to do with the practical side of learning, tm<J't'T\µ11 mainly with knowlege of practical things, while the process to <)>poVT\ma is not explicit within the word itself. It seems, however, that tm<J't'T\µ11 is more aimed at the gaining of knowledge while <l>POVT\ffi<J is the application of it. Knowledge of practical things (tma't'T\µ11) does not necessarily imply wisdom in its execution. cl>pov11ma, then, seems to be the practical experience which comes along with the continued use of rnta't'T\µ11. The relationship between "otOO<JKCX.AOU<J Kat µa.911-ca.a" Socrates speaks of is best imagined, I believe, as a sort of masterapprentice relationship in which the teacher has wisdom which he communicates to the student. What is most likely communicated, however, is the knowledge or skill contained within the cj>pov11ma, and only through Eµ7tupia., or "experience in a thing," would a student turn his basic rnia-c11µ11 into cj>pov11ma. But is <)>pov11ma more valuable than tm<J't'T\µ11? Does experience (Eµ7tupm) have an enriching effect upon it? It is interesting to note that at ~~~~~~~~~--..-~~~~~~~~~-.-~~~~~~~~3 89e8-9, Socrates uses the phrase "Eµ7tEtpO'tCX.'tOU<J El.Vat 'tOU 7tpCX.')'µU'tO<J" for the men "most experienced in (these sorts of) practical matters." Does he not mean that these men, and indeed Socrates himself, must be students of virtue? For if he and others seek teachers of virtue, cannot they be called students of it? Or must they first find a master of a.pE't'T\ ("virtue, excellence"; i.e. what the whole dialogue deals with) before they may become proteges of it? This would most likely be Socrates' answer, but it might at the same time negate the fact thatthe men who searched along with him were actually "Eµ7tEtp01:a'tOU<J" (the "most experienced"). Or are they only most experienced in not finding teachers or virtue? This is apparently, and somewhat ironically, so. But is it really necessary at all to seek teachers of virtue before seeking virtue itself? Are those "most experienced" really looking for teachers of a.pE't'T\ orforapE't'T\? Clearly their object should ultimately be a.pE't'T\ itself. But even if a teacher has wisdom (<)>poVT\ma), and his wisdom is virtue, is it actually possible for any teacher to impart wisdom when wisdom is only gotten through actual experience? At best the teachers can impart knowledge (tma't'T\µ11) and leave it up to their students to refine it into actual wisdom. For the master at cabinetmaking may have wisdom (<)>poVT\ma) of making an artful cabinet, but he can only communicate the tm<J't'T\µ11 of the right tools, materials, and procedures in making a cabinet to his students. The protege must develop on his own through experience (Eµ7tupm) the art of cabinetmaking. Such would be the use of a teacher in the search for virtue. There is nothing to say that his rntaTitµri would contain any hint of a.pE't'T\, even though his <J>poVT\ma would. This is perhaps why a painter could show you how to make elegant brushstrokes but not how to put the emotion or idea, in short the art, into it. In one sense there are no teachers for any art. They teach the knack, the nuts and bolts so to speak, of their craft, but not the excellence (cf. "a.pE't'T\") within it. Socrates may have been right in saying that a.pE't'T\ was wisdom, but not that it was simply knowledge, nor should he have used the two words almost interchangeably. ApE't'T\, if it is to be wisdom, would have to be gotten by way of experience, and experience, it seems, is the one thing unattainable from a teacher. This is perhaps why there are no true teachers of virtue. One can learn rnt<J't'T\µ11 which is indeed rocj>EA.tµoa, or "advantageous," but not cj>pOVT\ffi<J, which is ultimately advantageous because it is ultimately ap0oa ("just plain good"). let us restate the argument of this paper, first in its original language and then in ours. If a.pE't'T\ is a.peoa, then it is also rocj>EA.tµoa, but only rocj>EA.tµoa with <)>pov11aw. The <l>POVT\ffi<J of CX.PE't'T\ is gotten through the action of Eµ7tEtpm on tma't'T\µ11, but tma't'T\µ11 on its own is not a.pE't'T\, and since rnta't'T\µ11 is the substance of oiooaKa.A.ia., there can be no oioa.aKa.A.oua of a.pE't'T\ since a.pE't'T\ is not tm<J't'T\µ11. The µue71-cm of a.pE't'T\, finally, are those who seek to use E7tta't11µ11 to get to <)>pov11c:na, and from cj>pOVT\ffi<J, a.pETI\. Or, in translation, the wisdom that is virtue is ultimately practical and experiential. As such, it cannot be taught by any master of virtue, forthe master would only be able to communicate the nuts and bolts of what good men (a.')'U80t) are, rather than the virtue of virtuous men. The virtuous man only becomes so through his actions and the motives behind them; an imitation of them by one wishing lo be virtuous would miss the point, unless thethinking behind the deed is actually experienced by him as well. Perhaps the entire concept of virtue is, as �4~~~~~~~~--.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ some have put it, a bad name for it. It could be that we already have a word for virtue (such as <J>poVTtmcr) which describes be.tterthan the word "virtue" what it is. The argument here is not so much saying that "virtue equals wisdom" (or more specifically practical wisdom) expresses any more of what it is than any of Meno's attempts; rather, the point is more that whatever virtue is, it is nottaught as virtue, but probably something else, most probably an rntcr't1W11 that is much simpler than anything we would imagine. Virtue deals with motive and action toward other people, and the person responsible to himself for The Collegian Speaks for Itself The Collegian is one of three publications on campus. I do not presume to state the purpose of the other two. On the other hand, I will say by way of comparison that The Gadflydeals with news and current opinion, among other things. Energeia is a semiannual showpiece of the best work of the community. The Collegian is neither of these. We are a vehicle of review and criticism for our writers and readers. his actions is, if not virtuous, then at least on the right path. Socrates makes an extremely interesting point in his argument when he says that action becomes advantageous with the addition of wisdom, and that virtue is advantageous. This point, it seems to me, either to the fact that virtue is a component of wisdom, or that wisdom is the main component in virtue. Perhaps this is a compromise to saying that virtue is wisdom and vice versa, but it also points to the inevitable factthatonceweconcretely define virtue, it will have the word "wisdom" somewhere in its definition. [POSTSCRIPT: It is interesting ta note that We look for writing which is clear, interesting, and original. We have not set ourselves up as the tribunal of taste in the community. Instead, we ask you to use us a sounding board for your thoughts as they are expressed in writing and the black and white visual arts. Submissions are circulated, with names removed, among our staff, who read them, write brief comments, and rank them with a "yes" or "no." After everyone has read and critiqued the submissions, we discuss what to print and why. No one on the Collegian staff is an expert on poetry or math or Plato. We are, we hope, people of common sense. If you Socrates refrained from using "cro<)>m," or "philosophical wisdom" in his a~ume~. Pe~aps fu~ was because cro<)>w. was too ethereal of a word for his purposes, <J>poVT\mcroffering a more practical synonym. But If ind myself wondering if he had indeed used cro<)>m if Meno would have responded "But of course, 0 Socrates, we have teachers of wisdom. They are the cro<J>tcr't'tlV, such as my friend Gorgias." Who knows where this would have taken the discussion?] --NATHAN J. HUMPHREY '94 (This paper was submitted to Mr.Dinl<.'s Freshman Greek Tutonal) would like to see what the average person on campus would think about your work, by all means, submit. We do not flatly reject pieces which are imperfect. If a piece, in our opinion, needs work, a staff member will propose changes to the author. Sometimes this means postponing a final decision until the next issue. When we choose not to print a piece at all, we return it to the author with a note. The note provides both praise and constructive criticism, based on the opinions of the staff. We go to such great lengths to offer our opinion because we hope that the writer is open to comment. This is where the ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-s reader comes in. Those who dish out criticism must be able to take it. Hence, we encourage comments, both from writers and readers, on The Collegian itself. Better yet, if you think the quality of The Collegian is low, you can remedy that. You, the reader, can become the writer. Beware, though: you may find that writing is more difficult than criticizing. I would now like to comment on two important genres. Notes are short submissions, not necessarily meant to be tight logical arguments or jewels of literary craftsmanship. Instead, they say, "This is on my mind." In the past, notes have been conversational, dreamy, breezy, melancholy; they have suggested an unobvious connection between apparently unrelated topics; notes have been in letter form. in one case a note inspired a reader to write a fully developed essay. I encourage you both to write Notes and to read and reply to them. The other genre is poetry. A friend of mine once said that people have written reams of bad poetry throughout history, but this does not mean that people should not try to write poetry. Onlytime, he claimed, shows a poem's worth. Unfortunately, a magazine with deadlines doesn't have much time. Most of us, too, have similar standards for prose, but we seldom agree on poetry, unless it is outstanding. Some of the poetry we receive is quite good; little of it is exemplary. We work our way through many non-exemplary poems. This does not mean that you should hesitate to send your poetry to us. How else are you to know what the average person thinks of your work? I am not encouraging sloppiness. Do not send us poems written on napkins. Do, however, send us things which you think are good. Use us, I mean, as a source of feedback. Let me close with two pieces of business. We do not think that writers shou Id be ashamed of their work. Therefore, we do not encourage anonymous submissions. If you would like us to make an exception, talk to us. The editors will keep your name confidential, but we must know your identity in case we want to propose revisions. Let me repeat, however, that we strongly encourage people to accept credit or criticism for their work. In any case, we will not consider submissions unless we, the editors, know the author's name. Secondly, ALL SUBMISSIONS MUST BE TYPED. Since we failed to make this clear, we did consider handwritten submissions for this issue. In the future, we will not. We have set high goals for ourselves, and we will miss them again and again. We accept your constructive criticism. Keep in mind that no one accepts destructive criticism. Also remember, if something is on your mind, write it as a letter, a note, or even a fulllength essay. What are the facts? Again and again and again--what are the facts? Shun wishful thinking, ignore divine revelation, forget what "the stars foretell," care not what the neighbors think, never mind the unguessable "verdict of history" -- what are the facts, and to how many decimal places? You pilot always into an unknown future; facts are your only clue. Get the facts! --Robert A. Heinlein, Time Enough For Love --DIANNE J. COWAN, Editor �God Riders of the Saffron Sage --GREG FRANCKE '92 Major Armand Delicasey was nodding off on his saddle when he first sighted them. It was eighteen hundred and sixtyeight, and Delicasey was dreaming of the deeds of heroism he never committed in the war between the states, having been a commander of the mess corps supplying the front lines. Nevertheless, he had acquitted himself well in his duties, and was rewarded with this post in the westem territories supervising the transport of goods to forts along the Santa Fe Trail. On this day he had ridden ahead of the supply wagons to scout out the path and, as rarely happened, to warn the wagon trains should there be any sign of hostile Indians. As this rarely happened he very frequently acted as scout, an unusual duty for one of his rank, but one which allowed him to pass pleasant moments in reverie, away from the disapproving eyes of his subordirrntes. Tiu:. i'1 ::am€ as a shock to Delicasey, on coming over a rise, to see what looked like an Ara- 1 besque sultan sermonizing a sea of women. No wonderthat the majorfelloff his horse at this point, for he was a man unprepared by life for such sights. Whether this innocence of experience makes him a buffoon I leave to the reader. On coming closer to his object, he realized that it was not at all as it appeared. A man in a wide hat of the sort the Mehicans to the south call a sombryero stood atop an overturned wagon looking down upon a herd of cows. The man jumped upon the cow nearest, which oddly was saddled and bridled like a horse. He rode over to Major Delicasey and bowed awkwardly, saying in a heavy Mehican accent, "Benito Saffron, at your service, senyor." Senyor Saffron was a tall lanky fellow with a sickly orangish-yellowcomplexionwho seemed evermuch like a latter-day Quixote, which resemblance was only strengthened when he fell off his cow. Delicasey in turn leaped off his horse and helped Saffron to his feet. "I beg your pardon," said Saffron, "but I have eaten little in many days. What kind gentleman have I the honor of being held up by?" "ltisonlywhatanyman would do for his fellow man, rny friend. My title is Major Armand Delicasey of the-" and here it must be admit- ted the gentle Armand lied, "of the Seventh Cavalry." "A noble and brave group of men, Don Armand; yes, I have heard of it. But may I invite you to my humble wagon." Without any motion of Saffron's part, his mount proceeded towards the camp, as if it knew its master's thoughts. "You are a sweet man, Don Benito," Delicasey replied as they rode down amidthe herd. "Were that I could meet more of your kind in this lonely sea of a prairie. And once we are settled, I hope you will feel able to tell me of your misfortunes, and how you come to be out here in such sad condition." Don Armand and Don Benito dismounted and settled under the canopy of the overturned wagon. Delicasey shared his rations with his new friend and looked over the herd. From this vantage he could see that there were four more Mehican gentlemen amid the herd riding cows in the same fashion as Don Benito. On each of them he read the uneasiness which he had found in the eyes of Saffron. Turning to Benito, he asked, "I beg your pardon for placing this question again, but how comes it that one such as yourself finds himself in this �~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~9 Poetical Construction if for a moment you fail to balance a drop of water upon your fingertip, beauty will be its shattering. haps the saddest I have ever heard. And as for the odor, I myself never set out on a journey without making provisions for bringing salt to preserve the carcass of any stock that might die along the way." --KEVIN JOHNSON ,93 At this remark Senyor - - - - - - - - - - - . - - - - - - - - - - - ' S a f f r o n began crying inconDon Benito's eyes solably. Not knowing what forlorn place?" Don Armand regretted lowered like the fall of a to do nor what he had said, these words, for Benito curtain, but his tongue Delicasey stepped out from seemed to faint upon the continued the story at the under the canopy and mention of his past. From nudging of his cow, who looked over the herd. Turnbehind Saffron a snout kept her head under the ing, he saw the exposed protruded onto the canvas tent throughout the telling. body of the cow Booboo "My wagon train stretching out from under and a large tongue rolled out to lick Saffron's face. It headed out a month ago the canvas. He pushed his was this cow which served from the Hanging Key head under the canopy Don Benito as a horse. The Ranch to bring fresh cows again for a moment to tell sight of this apparent fond- to the slaughter houses in Don Benito he was going ness between servant and El Paso. I had thirty men for a walk. Making his way master filled Don Armand then, but only a week into through the grazing herd with warmth, if also with a our journey the Sioux like a knight running the slight envy of this bond. ambushed us. They killed gauntlet, he seemed to see all but four of my men, and a small group of heifers Saffron revived. "Ah, my friend, "said took half the livestock, staring at him. He shook Delicasey with sincere joy, along with all the horses. I his head in disbelief, but on "you are well.Tell me, what and my four associates looking again they still is the name of your faithful were left for dead, but we seemed to stare at him. were able to gather this Pointing a finger at himself steed? "Yes, she is a fine and herdtogetherandonegood hesilentlyasked, "Me?" He dependable creature; not wagon, on which we loaded could have sworn they fickle like my horse, who the carcass of one of the nodded but instead of ran away when the Sioux cows accidentally killed in approaching them he headed the other way, attacked. Her name is the ambush." "Ah, that's the odor," saying to himself, "Ah, Booboo." At the mention of the inserted Armand delicately. Delicasey, you have been "I beg your pardon, out on the prairie too long." Sioux, Major Delicasey Questions began to raised a brow like the rais- friend," Don Benito contining of a veil. "Indeed she is ued. "The odor cannot be arise in Delicasey's mind a fine one. Would that my helped. Last night our concerning the tales he had mount were so affection- wagon lost a wheel and just heard. There was ate. But I must say, you toppled over. Thus we were something suspicious in have piqued my curiosity. stranded when you discov- Benito's manner which he could not put a finger on, If you have the strength, ered us this afternoon." "Ah. Your story is a an uneasiness which is please tell about the Sioux sad one, Don Benito, per- commonly the sign of a attack." saint or a scoundrel. And course, else I wouldn't have ment pacified him somethere should be no Sioux in gotten into such a fine res- what. "No, no. You misconthe area this time of year. taurant. But being a capIn fact, he realized, there tain during the war, I was strue my meaning once should be no Sioux in this admitted into this fine res- again. I only meant thr.3.t a area ever, for this was taurant and had the finest cow is in part like a woman. Navaho territory. For a brief steak I've ever eaten, Just as we men are demoment, wariness over- awash in gravy from the pendent upon women for took our Major Delicasey, tongue of that same beast. the satiation of one appeand he began seeing Don That was quite the best tite, so we are dependent upon cows for another." Benito's tale as an odd piece of--" But atthis Don Armand Don Armand became puzzle he must unlock. On reflecting upon his experi- noticed an agitation and uncomfortable with Pepence with the heifers, shifting among the herd, per's candor, and altohowever, Don Armand and as if resonating with gether forgot his former laughed this notion out of this motion, Pepper's head outrage. "Well, I don't know about this analogy. And his mind. "Ah, Delicasey, shook violently. "No, no. That's not besides, man does not you are a queer one yourwhat I meant at all. Please need the cow. We take it self." our enjoyment. Coming out of his don't mention such meals for thoughts, Armand noticed again, if you know what's Whereas the cow is completely dependent on grass, one of Don Benito's men good for you." Armand was taken man, being free, may furtively waving him over while grooming a cow with aback by this obvious choose either the grass or a large comb. Walking over, threat.and would have left the cow. Whereas the cow Don Armand commented but that Pepper continued must eat grass, man may either eat grass or eat cow, on this peculiar sight. "You talking. "No, no. What I meant or even choose to refrain treat your cows well, don't was that we out here on from eating altogether, you now?" "As you see," replied this prairie become starved being free. Though I admit the hoary, withered for beauty, don't we. And this freedom is a burden, rancher, "they demand it, looking at these creatures, and sometimes even I wish don't we find the gentle form I had only simple animal don't they?" The wizened man of a woman sometimes?" instinct, yet this freedom Armand leaned back makes us the noblest of winked at Delicasey upon this remark, and Delicasey to gaze upon the heifer, creatures, a truly free noble unintentionally winked appreciating Pepper's creature, unlike this cow comment. His eyes traced here, and by the way, what back. "My name is Pepper," the muscles of the crea- are you doing?" Don Armand's philosotheold man continued while ture's thigh as though looking at a fine piece of art. phizing trailed off as he groomingthecow. "and this young girl here, she is a Then, as with a sudden became engrossed by the fine creature, is she not?" insight, he lunged over the activity of the old rancher. "Well, yes she is. And heifer at the old rancher. Pepper had caught the fine looking steaks we'll He screamed, "Look here, comb on an enormous make of her yet. Why, I what you're implying is--" hairball, and as Armand The heifer prevented bent over to examine it, remember a fine steak I had once in New York. That the major from getting at Pepper swiftly pulled out a was during the war, of Pepper, and his next com- knife from under his shirt. �10~~~~~~~~-,~~~~~~~~~-.-~~~~~~~~- lnstead of plunging the knife into Delicasey's neck, however, as he could easily have done, Pepper used the knife to cut the knot free. On the return swing of his knife, Pepper grabbed the fluff of hair with the ends of his fingers and threw it at Don Armand, whispering, "Quickly, undothisGordian Knot." Armand played with the hairball for awhile, but becoming frustrated he threw it to the ground. The cow Pepper was grooming placidly picked it up with her tongue and chewed on it. Pepper fell to the ground weeping, to the great discomfort of Major Delicasey. "Ah well," he thought to himself, "the man's been out on the prairie too long." The major examined the cow that was chewing on the hairball. Again he smiled with satisfaction as he followed the creature's muscles back towards the rump. There he found the unique brand of the Dangling Key Ranch. It was composed of a perfect circle and a straight, diagonal line which extended from the lower right circumference of the circle toward the creature's tail. Upon this line in turn were two shorter ones extending perpendicularly from the end of the long line farthest from the circle. Armand puzzled over this brand as over some devilish Apollonian proof, but to no avail. "To what are you the key, my dear?" he asked silently. Finding no lock for his devilish key, and finding himself unable to help the unfortunate if somewhat deranged Pepper, he walked back to the wagon. As Major Delicasey approached the wagon, Don Benito came out to greet him with a smile so welcoming and so sincere that what vestiges remained of Delicasey's former suspicion left him altogether. They embraced one another as sailors do who have just returned from a long voyage. "So good to see you again, my friend," said Saffron. "And howwasyour walk?" Don Armand explained that it was quite pleasant except for the incident with Pepper, which he proceeded to recount. "Pepper is a lunatic, I'm afraid," was Don Benito's comment on this story. "Won't you eat something while I have my hair combed?" he asked. Don Armand joined Saffron under the canvas, where was laid out a large plate of sliced meat. "My cook," Saffron explained, "has made this meal for us from what was left of the cow carcass. I hope you enjoy it. As for myself, I won't be eating while I have my hair combed." As they sat down on either side of the plate, Booboo's head again pro- truded from under the canvas. She began licking at Saffron's hair. In turn, Major Delicasey began repasting on the meal. "Well, this is very good meat, you know. The flavor is a bit unusual, but I suppose that's due to the aging. Are you sure you won't have some, Don Benito?" Again Saffron chose to abjure, and he chose not to explain why, though his face bore a look almost of disgust as Delicasey finished off the meal. "Ah, this was wonderful. But mayn't I have some milk to wash it down?" The cows outside the tent shuffled about again, this time almost pushing over the makeshifttent. "I'm afraid that would be out of the question," responded Saffron. "Oh well, yes, yes, I understand the sentiment," said Delicasey, although he did not. "By the by, don't you think these cows are packed a bit too close to the tent?" "If they are so, then I chose that they be so." "Yes, yes, well, I understand. Hmm. Well." At Booboo's nudging, Don Benito changed the subject. "How comes it that you choose such a life of solitude, major? Do you not miss the company of your wife?" "No, I'm not married," Delicasey explained. "I'm a happy bachelor." "Indeed," continued Saffron, "but do you not again, and Booboo contin- thought Armand. "They miss the society of women ued her A pallor had breed themselves for our during your long periods formed on Don Benito's pleasure. That calf will one out on the range?'' face. "This is very kind of day grow up into a fine cow, The tone of Don you, sir. I don't know how I and perhaps one day I will Benito's questions re- could repay you. find set before me a piece "Ah well, not at all. In of that rump. Indeed, naminded Major Delicasey uncomfortably of Pepper's fact, you can help me ture is wonderful." reporting my From behind him came earlier interrogation. "Not greatly really. The company of my deed to the nearest fort, a call, and turning around fellow man is enough for after you have recovered, Armand saw one of his me. In fact, I prefer this of course. Who knows, soldiers accompanied by isolation from the company perhaps I'll get a promo- the sound of the supply of women. I am able to think tion. I've always wanted to wagons passing on the for myself. P other side of Only in such Pseudoin the ridge. He isolation can a mounted his There's a place in my heart for pseudointellectuman be truly horse and . a 11ty himself, you Al h rode out to t ough I find it suffocating in actuality arknow." "I see,.. like some insidious and insane root make That chokes my brain with too much verity rangements was all Don for one of the O'ergrown with pedantry Benito said. T wagons to be his pensivity and this excess "Listen," left beh1'nd. He But I love it nonetheless! S returned to started Major Delicasey, "I'm o come you black turtlenecks Don Benito's Take me one by one leading a leading a supBetween words on Warhol ply train A nd Dut c h- Romanian sculpturing . w a g o n through this headed And the significance of the second left toe area. The horses. In the works of Michelangelo. wagon train Looking should arrive -- JEAN HOLMAN '94 down on Don soon, and I'm Benito, who sure we can leave one be a Colonel Delicasey. had left his tent with Booboo behind for you with enough Perhaps one day I'll even close by, now with a tuft supplies to take you wher- become a General Deli- torn from her head, Armand said, "I will leave you this casey." ever you need to go." At this, Don Benito's At this Saffron burst wagon with these two face lighted up. In his ea- into a mad fit of inexpli- horses. May luck be with gerness, he leaned forward cable laughter. Once more you this time, my friend. I to whisper something to embarrassed for his friend, grieve that I cannot spend Armand, and a tuft of his Armand stepped out from more time with you, but the last wagon of my supply hair was torn out acciden- under the canopy. tally by Booboo's closed The light of the late train is passing, and I must mouth. He screamed in afternoon at first blinded leave with it. Farewell." Instead of bidding farepain with a look of horror on him. He soon found himself his face as he fell back- looking at a baby calf nurs- well in tum, however, Don wards onto Booboo's head. ing. Benito leapt atop Booboo "What a fine sight," and accompanied Armand He straightened up 1111111111111111111111111111111111111111 • 111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 11111111111111 11111111111111 m111 • • • • 1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111pii111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111m111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111!1111111111111111111111m111111111111111al �2 ~~~~~~~~~-,-~~~~~~~~--.-~~~~~~~~-13 to the first wagon, precariously reaching out and grasping MajorDelicasey's hand. With his hand still trapped in Don Benito's, Armand with difficulty dismounted andtied his horse to the back of the wagon. Again he bid farewell, but Don Benito would not release his hand; rather he dismounted and with his free hand grabbed Booboo by the ear. As Booboo mooed, attracting the attention of the herd below, Armand si~nalled the last wagon to catch up to the train, and leapt onto the back of the wagon. Instead of releasing his hold on Major Delicasey, Saffron released Booboo's ear and jumped onto the moving wagon. All of Delicasey's former suspicion returned suddenly and he grappled with Saffron. Booboo also grabbed onto Saffron's exposed foot, as if helping the major. With a hand at his throat, Benito repeated something incomprehensible. Just as Major Deli- casey was about to hurl Benito from the wagon he understood these words and kicked Booboo between the eyes. What Benito had been trying to say all afternoon was simple, and came to Delicasey as a revelation: "We serve the cows," he'd said. "We serve the cow!" Notes: subject of much art extant at the time, with the subject usually devoid of all body hair. It was quite natural, then, for gentlemen to assume that women came quite naturally in the state of hairlessness, at least in the pubic area. For some reason this reminded me of an English joke my nana had told me some years ago. Her mother, a proper Victorian lady, had told her the story of a gentleman courting a young woman of the era who always wore a purple satin ribbon "round 'bout her neck." The gentleman kept pressing his beloved to tell him the reason why she always did so, and the young lady kept putting him off, until they were married. In the honeymoon suite after the ceremony he told her that he really had to put his root down now, as it was proper that the wife should keep no secrets from her husband. In compliance, she removed her satin ribbon, and her head fell off. I wonder sometimes if these two anecdotes aren't rather related, as they both deal with innocent young men who don't fully understand their female counterparts. Indeed, there is no doubt that Victorian gentlemen soon recovered from their original surprise, for if they did not, the entire British race would soon have gone extinct. Besides, it is quite unimaginable that a young man, depriving himself so long of sexual gratification, should let a bit of hair stand in his way. A wife without a head, however, is a slightly more serious problem, but hopefully the poor lad was in any event able to reassemble his poor sweet bride and live happily ever after in On Being a Victorian Gentleman I heard a story once that Victorian gentlemen, if they were truly such, worshipped in the Anglican church, and, like good Anglicans, refrained from sexual, let alone any even slightly risque activity until marriage. It is said that many Victorian gentlemen, upon the occasion of their consummation, were often quite shocked by the fact that their brides had pubic hair. It seems there was a reasonable explanation for their dismay, as, being proper gentlemen, they were also cultured in the world of art. As a matter of course, nudity was the -- JAMES ASHLEY '92 The foregoing was a parody of Melville's Benito Cereno. Victorian bliss. seriously neglected. As a poor young lady with her The more serious implica- thoroughly "advanced" head at the side of her tion from these two stories society, we like to imagine marriage bed. Could it be is the common mis- thatthisdeficiency has long that her dashing husband understanding between the since been sufficiently did not stop for a moment two genders, represented diminished. We were all to get to know its contents? in quite graphic ways. The hopefully educated in the Perhaps that is our probsolution to this offered in biological workings of our- lem, too. We are so conthe modern era is a general selves and others, and cerned with the quickie that permissiveness about taught the equality of all we forget our partner is not male-female relationships, people regardless of gen- inflatable. This is not to say as it is almost expected in der, etc. Yet why is it that that we are exactly as badly secular circles that by the we often hear that locker off asourVictorian countertime of your honeymoon room cliche, "did you get parts, but we do act before we think, while the Victoyou will have already seen any, man?" your share of pubic hair What we know in our rian gentlemen apparently and unclasped, proverbially brains is not always com- did neither. speaking, your share of municated in our words and satin ribbons. As a actions. Why this is so is consequence, unfortu- beyond me. I suppose that nately, we have fallen into a distinct peculiarity about a maelstrom of sexual humans is that, try as we stress. Should one "get it" may, we cannot join the before or after the prom? rational and the emotional What is the relationship in a cohesive way. This is --NATHAN J. between one's first orgasm certainly the case with sex. HUMPHREY '94 with a partner and adult- I keep thinking back to the hood? The list of psycho- i - - . ; . _ _ - - " ' ° - - - - - - - ' - - - - - - - - - logical questions related to each other in this way will certainly not be answered by me, and if so certainly not in any definitive sense, but they are of a nature that no person can ignore. The difference, however, between hair and heads is large, and it seems to me that the moral, so to speak, of these two stories lies not so much in the sexual backwardness of a bygone age, as has been the accusation of many regarding the Victorian era, but rather in the simple fact that understanding of both the bodies and the minds of one's fellow persons was Sketch oE Wind and Trees 1. 2 there is a time in evening, in which people stumble out of bars, change into silkier clothes, deeper enchantments, there is a space in the soul, still filled with the primordial perfume of that strange alchemical void which gave birth to countless generations, asses, stumps, and cauldrons, homeysuckle, grapes, an antelope. -- KEVIN JOHNSON '93 �14 away from zero as a given of x by one third of the difpoint. ference between one and the old x value. Xnew = Xold 2 Organic Forms in Mathematics Accompanying this essay is a plot of a sequence of points. This type of sequence is called an iterative fractal, and it is defined by a group of transformation equations. Before one can understand fractals, one must know how transformations are mathematicallydefined. An example of a transformation is an equation which finds a new point half as far Xnew This equation states that the new value of the variable xis equal to the old x value divided by two. If xbegins by equaling one, then the new value would be one half. One fourth is the result of applying the equation a second time. Repeated applications of this equation result in an endless sequence of numbers which continually approach zero. A different transformation equation can be used to create a sequence which approaches the number one. More specifically, the equation reduces the old value = Xold - I1 - Xold With these two equations and a starting point, a simple fractal can be defined as a sequence of points on the number line. A coin is flipped or some other method is used to randomly pick which of the equations shall be used to calculate the second point. Another random choice decides the equation to calculate the third point, and so on. Whenever the first equation is used, the next point is closer to zero, and when the second is used, the next point is nearer to one. The sequence reflects 250 200 150 100 so 0 -50'--~~~~~-'-~~~~~_L_~~~~~-L~~~~~___J -100 --GREG FRANCKE '92 -so 0 I 3 50 100 � 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 Collegian Description An account of the resource The Collegian began as a student newspaper; became a college community literary publication in 1952 and continued until 1969; became a student newspaper again in 1969; discontinued publication from 1980 until 1989 when it again became a student literary publication.<br /><br />Click on <a title="The Collegian" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=26">Items in The Collegian Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. 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 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. 15 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 The Collegian 25 October 1991 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1991-10-25 Title A name given to the resource The Collegian, October 25, 1991 Description An account of the resource Vol. III, Issue 1 of The Collegian. Published on October 25, 1991. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Cowan, Dianne J. (Editor) Nease, Robby (Editor) 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 Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/494b8362696b57893bf340ba0d9d5c0d.pdf f72767b04327e75273770a06a9a66a60 PDF Text Text 16~-~~~~~~~--.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~--~·~~ an endless tug-of-war be- in the illustration appear to tween the two equations. fill an area because the As more points are added points were represented to the sequence, they ap- with ink dots. If, however, pear to fill the number line more points were calcubetween zero and one. The lated, the ink dots could be interaction of these equa- smaller and the fern would tions is similar to the inter- still appear to occupy an action in the fractal fern. area. In fact, Benoit ManThe fractal fern is a dlebrot claimed that some sequence of points defined fractals really contain an by a random choice among area when drawn with an four equations. The fern's endless number of points. stem appears because a (The Fractal Geometry of pair of the equations inter- Nature, pg. 12) Mathemaact in a way that is similar to ticians have found that the fractal which seems to slight changes in the equafill the interval between zero tions change the fractal and one. The other pair of shape to mimic different equations interacts differ- growing conditions and difently, forming what ferent species. Perhaps resemble branches and fractal geometry is a means leaves. Some of the leaves of studying the organics forms of natur a because fractals combine random choice with the logic o algebra. The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray The Collegian first est. 1888 Volume ill Issue 2 The illustration was programmed on a Digital VAX computer. Available on request from the author is a version of the program which runs in Macintosh Hypercard. The coefficients of the equations for the fern are found in Fractals Everywhere, by Michael Barnsley, 1988, pg. 87. --OWEN KELLEY '93 The publishing policy of The Collegian is to treat all writers and artists and the pieces they submit with respect. A piece will not be accepted if the staff judges that it does not reflect the capabilities of the originator. All submissions must be typed. No revision will be adopted without the consent of the writer. address correspondence and criticism to Box 391 Campus Mail. NEXT DEADLINE: NOVEMBER 15, 1991 Please recycle this copy of The Collegian when you have finished reading it. Please The central event of history, according to the Catholic Church, is the death and resurrection of Christ. We refer to this day as Good Friday, and not without reason. We believe that God clothed himself in human flesh, dwelt in our midst, and died the most brutal death imaginable, an innocent man, a condemned criminal. This is the greatest good that God bestowed on us. By lowering himselftothe level of man, he raised man to the level of God. We, the Wednesday, December 11, 1991 faithful, have great cause beautiful paintings full of for gratitude and rejoicing. blood and tears, glorious O happy fault, we say, 0 sculptures of twisted, achblessed sin of Adam, that ing bodies: Christ on brought salvation such as Golgotha with pierced and this! bleeding heart, St. SebasAnd yet our celebra- tian stuck full of arrows like tion of this day is draped in a holy pincushion, St. Theblack. Today our God is resa impaled by Love in dead. On Holy Thursday, her ecstasy, the Pieta. In after we share our ritual modern times, we try to meal, our commemoration concentrate on the joy and of the slaughter of our light of our faith. We say sacrificial Lamb, we carry that God loves us and we his body out of the Church love each other. But unand lay him in the reposi- derneath this, we know, tory, known in ancient times runs a current of blood, dark by the more fitting name of and thick, beautiful to bealtar of repose. It is both hold. Beauty lies not in the place of sacrifice and rest- mere fact of our salvation, ing place. We return to the but in our being ransomed Church, and for three days by the suffering of God himwe bewail our Christ, who self. Without his pain, our is with us no more, but lying salvation would be worthdead in a tomb. Our very less. I mean the foregoing salvation is cause for grief. Our churches and our as an introduction to museums are adorned with Baudelaire. I refer to Ca- SACRED WOE AND THE STRICKEN HEART TWO MODES, ONE JOE THE PARADOX OF ARISTOTLE'S WHEEL ROMANTIC POET GETS STORY ALL WRONG DIDO'S SONG THE VASELINE FACTORY ON WOMEN GAZING ESTROUS SONG OF ZITA HALCYON DAYS NOTES: Spring Day p. 1 p.4 COWAN DANIEL JOHNSON MALARCHER ROBERTS FRANCKE BARBERA HOLMAN EINHORN p. 12 VITO p. 15 St. John's College, Annapolis, Md., 21404 p.5 p. 7 p. 8 p. 9 p. 10 p. 11 �tholicism not in order to Baudelaire could write a but it is more. It throbs like write criticism of his work poem like "Harmonie du a stricken heart. The waltz nor to justify his beautiful Soir." no longer takes place outdepictions of horrible Let me describe for side me, as I witness, dethings, but to empathize you my response to the tached. My heart is the with him, for through my poem's imagery. Incense violin, and I am the dancer. own Catholic upbringing I symbolizes our prayers, the I look at the sky, and I see come to my deepest un- Church teaches, which drift the altar of repose. Now, derstanding of his work. heavenward like sacrificial perhaps, I know what afHere is a man who believes smoke whose fragrance is flicts my heart. Something that tainted perfumes ex- pleasing to God. But we sacred is dead. In the press infinite things, who have no need of the Church heavens his body is at rest, builds underground here. The flowers act as while I, for whom he died, temples in the blackest censers, breathing forth must mourn him. corner of his heart to adore scents which swirl together In the third stanza, the the Queen of Virgins, with the sounds of the violin-heart is a tender heart whose ideal woman is Lady evening in a melancholy, which loathes the vast black Macbeth. I am not sur- dizzying waltz. But be- nothing. The translation prised that such a man cause the flowers are per- means to convey, with the would be drawn to Catholic forming a sacred rite, the word loathe, not merely ritual, which uses images waltz suggests more to me hatred, but also fear and of great horror to inspire than just a slow dance to awe. Some hearts, when profound and sacred awe. sad music. Suddenly the evening arrives, fear the I am not surprised that harmony of the evening is approach of darkness. I turned, in my imagination, am now more deeply STAFF into the mournful strains of moved by Baudelaire's likMalik Gillani '92 the organ. I can hear a ening the sky to an altar of Deirdre Crosse '93 choir singing the Agnus Dei, repose. The entombment Vanessa Stratton '93 even as I picture a languid of Christ on Good Friday Nathan Humphrey '94 dancer, delirious, draped signals to us the arrival of Sarah Stanley '95 over her partner's arm as the blackest of nights. For Kathy Stolzenbach '95 he leads her through the God is dead, and we have Janice Thompson '95 dance of death. We are not sacrificed him. We have Shelly Young '95 in a church. We are quite shed the blood of the innoDawn Beltz, GI likely outdoors, amid the cent, that the guilty might Jim Berrettini, GI flowers. And yet in the be saved. The sunset, on Dav~Doughert~GI beauty of the flowery eve- this night, cannot be simply Anton Yoe, GI ning Baudelaire sees what a pretty red glow. Instead, is sacred and full of woe. the great light of the heavDianne J. Cowan The harmony of the eve- ens chokes on its own clotRobby Nease editors ning is both doleful waltz ting blood. The heart must and sacred music. In the loathe and fear the vast Kevin Dungey, faculty second stanza, our prayers black abyss tonight, forthe still waft up to God upon Sun is dead. advisor Thanks to The Gadfly for the fragrance of the flowThe tender heart, the use of its light board. ers; the melancholy waltz, because it is afraid of the both dance and requiem, abyss, afraid of the dark, Printed at St. John's continues. The shudder of must gather together what College Print Shop .____ _ _ _ _ _ _ ___J the violin ispartofthatwaltz, remains of the past, when there was light. Baudelaire's "Harmonie du Soir" Does Baudela;ro mean to suggest Behold! The hour arrives, when swaying on its stem, that the heart Each flower exhales like a censer. which shudders, The sounds and the scents swirl in the evening air: the heart which Melancholy waltz and languid delirium! loathes, the stricken heart, Each flower exhales like a censer; may gather and The violin shudders like a stricken heart: keep light inside Melancholy waltz and languid delirium! itself? lthinkthat The heavens, sorrowful, beautiful, are an altar of repose. this is so, since, despite the The violin shudders like a stricken heart, bloody death of A tender heart, which loathes the nothing, vast and black! the sun in line 15, The heavens, sorrowful, beautiful, are an altar of repose; the poem ends The sun has strangled on its own blood, congealing. with light. Your memory, the A tender heart, which loathes the nothing, vast and black, poet says, Gathers every relic of a luminous past! . shines in me like The sun has strangled on its own blood, congealing ... a monstrance. Your memory shines in me like a monstrance! For those of you --translated by, Dianne J. Cowan '91 who are unfamiliar with the more I,!;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;~;;;;~;;;;;;;;;;;~;;;;;;;~;;;;;;;~~~ arcane rites of the Catholic or to another The We could easily say that no Church, will say that a Church teaches that Christ matter how dark and woemonstrance is a large, lives on in us. But I think ful our world becomes, we ornate cross with a small that Baudelaire might also have the comfort of our window, in which the Eu- be to a lover or a luminous memories. lthink charist is displayed for friend. Recall how, in the that would be an oversimadoration by the faithful. first stanza, he uses the plification. We have no What are we to make of imagery of ritual to evoke a need of light when the sun this image? Although the sense that the very experi- is up and shining. Only the is like an altar of re- ence of the evening was heart which fears the appose, indicating the death sacred. having been preach of night has any the im- need of lighting a lamp. of what is holy, not every- moved sacred is dead. agery which follows, I have Memory becomes a monrelics are displayed for us a sense that the poem strance, the Holy of Holies, in the monstrance. But the describes the dwelling for the most monstrance is inside the sacred which is not to be sacred , :ngs, only when speaker of the poem. found in a church. Memory there is suffering and death 1111omnr\1 lights up inside us, is pristine, for even and blackness in the world. even when we are sur- when what is sacred seems Like salvation, memory is to be dead, even when the valuable to us only because rounded on the outside world is without Light, our of the price we pay for it. the black abyss. I am a little confused memories shine on. about the "your" in the last How does this relate line. Does it refer to God, to my opening comments? --DIANNE J. COWAN '91 �~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-r-~~~~~~~~5 4 Joe evident? Since he is looking for the efficient cause of the movement, he must examine the source of the movement itself. When one circle pushes another circle, the former is moved only as much as the latter; for example, when the big circle pushes the little one, the of the larger circumference little one goes as far as the The paradox of Aristotle's wheel is an abstract in the same motion. In the big circle does. Yet, Arisproblem, which combines hypothesis that Aristotle totle says, when it" ... drives pure geometry with the idea sets up, both circles move another, edge against of movement. The setup of continuously and their edge, or by means of a the problem is this: two common centers move with cord or belt, it does not circles, one smaller than the same speed in each always cause it as much rolling as it undergoes," just the other, but sharing the case. Aristotle attacks the as when one circle is built same center, roll out their circumferences on lines problem as a natural phi- into another, the smaller tangential to their perime- losopher. Rather than get one will derive its motion ters. The lengths rolled out entangled with the effect of from that of the larger one by the circles are equal to the movement (the phe- and not from its own. Their their circumferences, which nomenon of the paradox), common center is an "acciare proportional to the he decides to examine the dent." As an answer to his circles. However, when the cause of the movement paradox, Aristotle imposes smaller is concentric with itself. How is it, he asks, the larger, and the larger that something could be a physicafity that is in some circle rolls out its circum- moved more in one in- ways appropriate. After all, we are forced, when imagference, the smaller one stance and less in another somehow travels the length without any reason being ining this procedure, to Aristotle, Galileo and the Paradox of Aristotle's Wheel @~l-\-~--0 B --JACK DANIEL, GI "Ukewise also, if I roll the big circle, having fitted the small one in it with the same center, AG will be pointing straight down at the same time as AH, perpendicular to CE when the latter is perpendicular to BF. So that when the one wifl have completed the distance CE and the other BF, and BA has again become perpendicular to BL, and AC to CM, the initial position will be restored on the points E,F. But since the greater circle does not stand still for the Jess so as to remain for some time on the same point (for both move continuously on both hypotheses), and since the less does not jump over any point, for the greater to go through a distance equal to the fess, or the Jess to the greater, is strange. n �6 D v T A 8 Q x s This diagram, and the one preceding, were adapted from Stillman Drake's translation of Galileo's Two New Sciences (Toronto, Wall and Thompson, 1974). become Euclidean carpen- can use Aristotle's Wheel spaces interposed ... " ters; to ''fix" the two circles to indicate the existence of But what is a circle if and then "roll" them. Yet, voids that he embraces it in not an infinitely sided polyat the same time he has the first place. Further- gon? he asks, so that the ended up answering a more, he is a physicist with line described by the "Why?" question rather corresponding priorities of smaller polygon has a numthan the "How?" question applying the mathematical ber of interposed voids corhe started out with. He has to the outside world, and responding to its sides while prevented himself, in a he approaches the prob- the line described by the sense, from answering the lem with this in mind. With larger circle is "all filled." question of efficient causes this unconcealed agenda, Galileo may now talk by the way he has ap- he starts with two hexa- about the expansion of any proached the problem. If gons, one smaller than the solid body he wishes withone does not talk about the other, and rolls them. He out speaking of quantifiable points in a circle, one can- points out that the sides of void spaces. This is a not break down the me- the smaller describe arcs remarkable tool for a physichanics of the movement. along its line, only inter- cist, however ill-gained the By "mechanics" I mean secting after a jump. The reward might be. what we imagine as a step- center does this to an even Let's examine just how by-step immediate process greater extent. Next he ill-gained it is. First of all, of something like contacts, asks the reader to imagine Aristotle might want to say pushing, and resting by a polygon of a thousand that he broke a rule by which the circle moves sides and states exactly the making the smaller circle along the line. same thing will happen on "jump" infinitely many small When examining Gali- a smaller scale. Therefore spaces. (Aristotle wouldn't leo's approach, it is impor- the line described by the even mention that despitant to remember that he is smaller polygon is "in- cable word "void.") Next, more interested in talking terrruptedly composed of a we now have two species about his new ideas than thousand little particles of lines: one continuous, about ancient paradoxes, equal to its thousand sides and, when you pullout your and it is only because he with a thousand void Euclidean/Galilean air pump, one with voids in it. Lastly, when we examine the motion of the rolling polygons, we see that the jumping phenomenon is a result of their structure, more specifically of their unequal radii. Now, since a circle has, by definition, equal radii, we could argue that this jumping does not translate to the infinite because what happens instead is that the radii are ultimately in a proportion of equality. Then, of course, we are back where we started, and it is time for a new series of explanations. At this point we should begin to wonder if it's worth it. Aren't Aristotle's and Galileo's explanations really just baying at the moon? Both are physical explanations for non-physical isdrawn. Thus, in the sense of their infinite number of points, these two circles are "equal." Now it is precisely on each individualpointthat these circles roll when this "mind experiment" is performed; since the difference in the length of their circumferences is unrelated to the infinity of points contained in them, so are the mechanics of the "movement" unrelated and incommensurable to the length that their circumferences "roll out." When we roll the smaller circle out by itself, with the purpose in mind of seeing the length of its circumference, it is by virtue of that "purpose of mind," it is through sheerfancy, that this occurs. Not so with Aristotle's wheel using a cause we are forced to examine more closely the necessary mechanics of the movement. We are forced to choose exactly how we are going to see the circles roll. "By their points," is the answer, and that indicates that no circle's rolling need be influenced by the length of its circumference. One could, when presented with the paradox, conceivably answer, "Ah, the demonstration of the eventual incommensurability of Euclidean figures and interrelated movement." Now, one could argue in return that the respective lines rolled out do equal their circumferences by Aristotle's hypothesis, so that, indeed in one case the action pro- th ings. Admittedly, ~G;;;;a;;;;;;li-;.;;;p;;;;;;h;;ys;;;;;;i;;;;;;ci;;;;;;st;;;;;;'s-a;;;p;;p;;;;;;ro;;;;;;a;;;;;;c;;;;;;h;;;,; ; ; b; ; ; e; ; ; -;!;d; ; ; u; ; ; c; ; ; e; ; ; s; ; ; m; ; ; o; ; ; r; ; ; e; ; ; a; ; ; n; ; ; d; ; ; in-a;;;;;;no;;;;;;t;;;;;;h~er lea's rigorous ap-111 proach is more com- Romantic Poet Gets Story All Wrong mendable, but his attempt to linkthisfantastic operation with "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings; Euclidean geometry Look on my works, ye mighty and despair." is bound to fail by the I ne'er imagined in the scope of things very means he uses That petty poets with curled black hair to make the connecWould bend their ears to hearsay from My land: tion. A vagrant traveler found discard remains Both circles I'd ordered tossed, ill carved by wretched hand have an infinite (The heart that fed was nourished not by brains). number of points. If The poet, too, too young to understand lines are drawn from That in a tale some details drift astray -the circumference of That sculptor's first attempt, now with the dregs, the larger circle to Would be his last, or did I have to say? the shared center, He's buried 'neath two vast and trunkless legs, each line will pass The lone and level sands stretch far away. through one and only one point on the --JAY MALARCH ER, GI smaller, through which no other line~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ �a~~~~~~~~-r-~~~~~~~~~-,--~~~~~~~~- ca.se less. But this response misses the crucial po:nt, discovered by GaliIE:o's approach, which is that the problem lies in the concept of the movement itself; thus the hypothesis is completely arbitrary. In this case, it is impossible § § § ~ § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § § ~ § ~ § § § § § § § ~ § simultaneously to use Gali- bounds of the foundations leo's "one fell swoop" and a of Euclidean geometry. procedure point by point. In actuality, Aristotle's wheel is a paradox, but not --JOHN S. JOHNSON '93 in the sense that he meant it to be. It is rather a conThis paper was submitted to Mr. ceptual problem that arises Higuera's Junior Mathematics Tutorial. when we overstep the 's Venus, goddess of my soul, who consumes me with her husband's fire, I am the lover of your bastard son. I am the muse who sings of your counterfeit allegiances. These kisses singe my lips and these sighs of unrest aflame on my tongue; this night sends me too quickly into ashes on a funeral pyre. 0 weakness of my heart, 0 sin my own yet not my own, save me from a world of death and ashes and condemn him to a universe of waiting, waiting in the black dusty ruin of my innocence, steeped in this dark betrayal, buried in the thundered cave of his too mortal heart. 0 fiery touches that deceived me, like fiery arrows how they pierced my pale and heaving breast. (And I believed in the hearth fire; I believed in Juno's vows). 0 Hecate, 0 Pluto, 0 cold Tartarean Acheron, quench this passionate torment that flares, that rages, that consumes this human soul, and grant me just revenge. Hear my prayer, these dreaded gods; hear my desperate prayer. --FRANCIE ROBERTS '93 9 Vaseline Factory § § § ~ § § § § § § § § § § ~ § ~ § § § § § § § ~ § § § ~ § § --GREG FRANCKE '92 �~~~~~~~~-,-~~~~~~~-.-~~~~~~~11 zine. Most often, however, men who are modelling clothes of any sort look very happy and friendly, even giddy, like Dan Quayle arriving at the golf course. Whatever was going on with these women in the underwear ad must therefore be peculiar to women or women's underwear. My survey of female Good science requires one encounter facial manikeen observation, cool festations of intense pleas- models of clothing yielded reason, fiery imagination, ure, deep thought, or firm the following. Models of and courage. I discovered resolve. Is there some- high fashion dresses look the hard way that I lack the thing present or absent in distant, questioning, coy, guts to be a good scientist. the state of modelling vacant, or full of self-admiIt all started awhile ago as women's underwear that ration. One hardly ever sees indications of resolve, I was eating lunch. Flip- elicits these responses? In an attempt to be thought, or pleasure. If the ping through the newspaper, I came upon one of scientific about answering fashion is less pretentious, those two-page advertise- this question, I divided the say Chris Evert Separates, ments for women's under- subject into categories and then the expression is wear. Eventually I noticed sought empirical evidence smiling and friendly. (Evert the expressions on the in each. I got to wondering looks much friendlier in faces of the women whether the three expres- these ads than she ever sketched in the ad. (This sions were universal did on the tennis court.) essay does not address among models being Last spring there were why I stopped at these sketched or photographed many ads for cotton attire: pages in the first place.) for clothing ads, or perhaps slacks, blouses, dresses. There was something pe- peculiar to some subset of Most of these women culiar about the ensemble clothing ads, maybe even looked to be happy and of expressions worn by the just women's underwear. friendly, although not inorwomen, similar, I remem- Accordingly, I conducted an dinately so. Those who bered, to the facial expres- informal survey of facial weren't smiling were facing sions of other women in expressions in clothing ads, into the wind. Their hair was blowing behind them, other underwear ads. Each and here are the results. Male models, be they and they were apparently of the women looked to be deep in thought, firmly reso- wearing suits, sports jack- neither happy nor sad. lute, or experiencing in- ets, trousers, shirts, or just Models wearing bathing tense pleasure. These are underwear, rarely exhibit suits are often pictured expressions that one en- expressions of resolve, skipping in or romping counters in real life on real intense pleasure, or through shallow water at people, but they aren't ex- thought of any kind, regard- the beach. They appear to tremely common. Usually less of whether they are be happy. Of course, you folks look just like folks. photographed or sketched. can find otherfacial expresPerhaps they stare vacantly Sometimes they look out sions on the models of or maybe give a little smile. vacantly from the pages of women's underwear too. Only rarely, however, does the newspaper or maga- There are some vacant On Women Gazing stares, and occasionally on e encounters Dan Quayle's sister in her underwear. (The underwear advertised by Montgomery Ward seems to be especially conducive to a pleasant smile.) Nevertheless, the three expressions in question occur disproportionatelyoften in underwear ads, and only rarely in ads for other attire. Thus far, I have found only a few exceptions to these patterns. In an ad for Macy's ewelry in the newspaper, a model seemed to be deriving inense pleasure from her necklace, bracelet, and earrings, and Calvin a Klein ad for men's underwear depicted models with gazes that bordered on he thoughtul. * * * I'm a I've m an. never been a w oman, but I've been out in the world fo r a while have a nd 0 bserved my of s hare I missing something? The women inthegeneralpopulation look, well, like women. Women may smile and cry a little more often than men, but generally speaking the three facial expressions are not noticeably more prevalent among women than among men. It must be the underwear, but not the underwear alone. We can rule out from the beginning the notion that the cause is solely the underwear, otherwise we would have to assume that most real women don't wear underwear. My empirical data in this regard is rather limited, but all evidence indicates that most women wear underwearmostofthetime. Of course, most real women also wear other clothesoverthe underwear. That's why they call the latter underwear. From my observations mr===~=========~====~==~~ Estrous Song of Zita Come, the painess is right between the shoulder blades And the wrists, too, which are strained and sore. Come early when the sun is orange in blackened windows And the river shows its steamy breath, Then when I walk, even the carpeting is alive With arms, shoulders, and th~ghs. Come, 0 God, a thousand images that make me scream Parade through the hollows of my brain, The sum of my days in a half-a-second. In an infra-sound explosion. Mobiles of paper, mobiles of glass and sound I wait for the glass intensity of touch Like a swollen pulse at the wrists Me, a half-explosion at your hands. Come, come in hushed humble sound And watch from a distance the people suffer Nothing, I suffer nothing also But more acutely Come there is no comfort in the ci:>ld rain And I can run 'till it hurts and there's still pain. --JEAN HOLMAN '94 �12 Halcyon Days The rain does fall in the suburbs Forming puddles on the pavement, shallower Than the dreams of the drivers of the Japanese cars Who splash them on the pregnant woman Smoking cigarettes at the bus stop And the crossing guard in the orange raincoat While the mailman, several hours behind, escapes As does the leather-jacketed motorcycl~st Secretly wishing he could draw more stares Than those of the cop parked at the donut shop While housewives, leaving salons, shield their hair with scarves. Roofs and windows carry the beat of a thousand Tiny drummers, that drive the cat under the porch Because, the rain does fall in the suburbs Perhaps it falls even harder here than elsewhere Possibly hard enough to shatter plastic and glass, but To do that it would have to pass right through our skin --DAVID EINHORN, GI and this line of thought, l good science. I decided missing; right where you hypothesized that wearing that the least I could do would most expect to find only women's underwear was offer up myself as a cloth in normal, practical might be the cause of the subject. To d~ this prop- underwear, there is nothexpressions, that covering erly would require that I ob- ing. Butt his isn't the kind of up the underwear with out- tain some women's under- underwear that I saw modelled in the newspaper, the erwear somehow negated wear. the effect of the underwear. Men buying women's kind that apparently caused The test of this hypothesis underwear. It's been done. the facial expressions. So was not without its difficul- Usually the kind of under- this isn'tthe kind of women's ties. Underwear is usually wear that men buy for underwear that I wanted to a personal and private women is underwear that buy. No, I wanted to buy matter. Most folks doni is not intended to be worn ordinary underwear. My talk about their underwear underanything. Youproba- guess is that men only in public, nor, obviously, do bly know about the kind of rarely go into department they wear only underwear apparel I am referring to. It stores, or wherever, to buy in public. Given these limi- is invariably called lingerie. ordinary, women's undertations, I knew that I would Usually one buys it through wear. Fearful of jeopardizing have trouble getting data, mail order catalogs. Usumy standing in the commuand it was at this point in ally the lingerie has lots of the investigation that I re- frills and useless straps. nity, I sought outside assisceived the first inkling that And sometimes a section tance. I asked my wife if courage played a role in of the apparel seems to be she would buy some women's underwearforme. Initially, she found my request disconcerting. I explained to her the scientific nature of my request and the potential social dangers if I pursued my inquiry without her aid. It is perfectly normal for a woman to walk into a department store to buy women's underwear. The women's lingerie section is always situated right next to children's clothing, the thinking being that while buying clothes for the kids, a woman might as well pick up something for herself. This act, this purchase is one that my wife has performed many times in the past. But despite the entirely normal appearance of the act that I was requesting, my wife insisted that she just didn't feel right about doing it. Somehow, this time, just knowing that she was going to the lingerie section to buy women's underwear for her husband made her feel dirty. What to do? How could I walk into a department store and buy ordinary women's underwear without calling undue attention to myself? How could I weatherthose looks and whispered comments? At one point I considered the following gambit. I would pretend to be performing an errand of mercy for my wife. I would enter the store with a Iist on which appeared only things feminine: bobby pins, eye liner, women's underwear, and the piece de resistance, tampons. Methodically I would proceed up and down the aisles, dutifully obtaining each object and conscientiously checking it off my list. I would stare constantly atthe list in order to avoid eye contact. It would be my hope that the clerks would see me acquiring these objects and conclude that my wife was home sick in bed and that I was so devoted to her that I would risk opprobrium by coming to the store to buy these items. But there still mightbesomedoubt. Then it occurred to me: what could be more wholesome looking than dad doing the necessary shopping with kids in tow? Certainly nobody would conclude that dad was a pervert if he dragged along some kids while buying these things. I have three children: two boys, eighteen and twelve, and a girl, eight. I didn't even botherto ask the boys. I knew they wouldni do it, and besides, what reason could I give them for my actions? They knew that mom was perfectly healthy and could buy these things for herself. And the problem with my daughter is that she would talk. I mean, she would talk a lot about the items before we ever got out of the store. No, my kids were not the answer. Perhaps I could borrow someone's baby? Immediately after purchasing the underwear, I drove directly but cautiously home. We all know the old caveat about wearing clean underwear. What if you get into an automobile accident? I guess the assumption here is that the force of the accident will sheer off your outer clothing. And even if the car wreck left you with some clothes on, the folks at the hospital would be certain to take them off when you arrived there. One can only imagine what they would then say about you if you had on dirty underwear. But I was running a different risk. Were I to get into an automobile accident, regardless of how clean the underwear might be that I had on, there would still be the women's underwear in the bag on the front seat. When I arrived home, I entered my apartment, locked the door behind me, went directly to the bedroom, and closed the blinds. I took off my clothes and put on the bra and panties. I had made a special effort to purchase underwear which was the right size for me. Keep the variables to a minimum. Those models in the newspaper all seem to be wearing the rightsize, and I didn't want to ruin the experiment by getting the wrong size. (Customers may try on all sorts of clothes at most department stores before �buying the clothing, but I certainly wasn't one of the thethree expressions. Only know of one store where three. I tried to conjure up after completing this gruelmale customers may not a look of intense pleasure ing test did it occur to me tryonwomen'sunderwear.) but couldn't. I tried to re- that it might have been unSizing the panties wasn't fleet on incommensurabil- necessary. I remembered much of a problem. I'm a ity or absolute justice, but that real women wearing medium and I got medium. couldn't, and even if I had, only women's underwear I know that women and men my gaze would not have lookprettyordinary, except are shaped differently, been one of deep thought. thatthey don't have all their especially there, but I fig- I tried to concentrate on clothes on. (Here again I ured that what I lacked in how doggedly I had pur- am basing my conclusion hips I made up for in waist. sued this investigation in on skimpy data.) But I Sizing a bra is a bit more hopes that this thought guess it is best to be thorcomplicated. As I under- would elicit an expression ough and certain. I constand the procedure, one of firm resolve on my face. cluded at this point that measures the circumfer- No luck. I looked like a fool. underwear per se on men ence of the chest twiqe, Part of the problem, I now and women, and only once below the breast and realize, was that the under- women's underwear on again across the breast at wear did not fit very well women or men are insuffithe nipples. (I recommend despite my attempts to get cient to elicit the expresthat one use a cloth tape the right size. If there was sions of intense pleasure, measure to take these any incommensurability to deep thought, or firm remeasurements ratherthan be contemplating, it was solve. What other variables the retractable, aluminum the ratio of body to are there? Context. kind.) These measure- clothing, not the ratio of the The underwear modments provide not only the diagonal to the side of a els who exhibited the three circumference but also the square. expressions were all modcup size. The chart that orlnom"'nt one can elling. That means thatthey consulted specified the folwere being sketched or lowing. If the difference make for oneself. Perhaps Perhaps being the model in this photographed. between the two circumactually wearing the situation, the environcase, ferences is less than one ment may be the key ingreinch, you take an A-cup; the underwear I had rendient for eliciting the specibetween one and two dered myself incapable of fied expressions. Unfortuinches, 8-cup; between two seeing that firm resolve, or intense nately, I was unable to and three inches, C-cup; my pursue this aspect of my inbetween three and four, 0- pleasure that countenance. I needed an vestigation. I possess vircup. I'm a 38A. I had a little trouble outside opinion, so called tually no ability to draw or sketch representationally. getting on the bra-they are in my wife. When required to draw the "' "' .. as hard to fasten as they Although I conducted human figure, I draw stickare to unfasten-but evenonly the single experiment men. Even if I could sometually succeeded. I was how indicate that these scientifically attired. I in this category, the results stickmen of mine were strolled into the bathroom, were so graphically clear women in their underwear, stood in front of the big that I could base a conclusion on them. Wearingonly there would remain the task mirror, and flicked on the of drawing the faces. I can light. There was an ex- women's underwear does do only smiley faces and pression on my face, but it not elicit on a man one of sad faces, no firm resolve and so forth. Thus it would be useless for me to gather togetheragroupof women, clad only in underwear, in hopes of sketching them while at the same time moriitoring their expressions. With sketching eliminatet.i, only photography was left, but my wife informed me that photography was out of the question too. There seemed to remain only one possible path of inquiry. I could dress up in only women's underwear and place myself in the contextofamodel. itwould then be necessary to have someone sketch or photograph me. Judging from my wife's response when she first saw me so attired it is doubtful that she could hold a camera steady, much less a pencil. My children are too young for this kind of serious scientific investigation, so they won't be of any help. And outsiders? At this moment I realized that I lacked the 15 courage to be a scientist. Keen observation, cool reason, and fiery imagination were not enough. I didn't have the guts to do it. I can only marvel at those scientists who do. --ANDRE BARBERA, TUTOR Notes: Spring Day My father's grip on reality weakens every day. He confuses me with my mother, forg~ts my name and age, or maybe these details lose their importance in the face of his anger. When he loses coherence, I try to remember that it is neither his fault nor mine Now that_ my mother is gone, and since his chaotic emotions must somewhere find release, 1t becomes my responsibility to take care of him. It begin~ innocently enough, always. I am seated at the kitchen table, reading. He e~ters, sits, stares. Perhaps this time he only wants to talk. Perhaps this time he will be_ th~ smiling, brilliant man I so rarely see. I hope in vain. I avoid his ~aze as long as I dare, then force myself to raise my head. Our eyes lock, and I realize that my father is no longer there. . Reaso~ is powerless against the demon behind his eyes. He has held fast to !h1s_parano1a for so many years that it seems eminently logical to him. I know that 1f I listen long P.nough, I will begin to believe too. My thou~hts shift to t_he perfection of a peaceful blue sky. Though the mind drifts away from this :'Tladness m attempt to salvage itself, the body must follow the familiar and destructive pattern. I watch the cringing body and hear its sobbing pleas. I watch, calm and detached, as I float in the safe perfection of the sky. --SUZANNE VITO '95 � 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 Collegian Description An account of the resource The Collegian began as a student newspaper; became a college community literary publication in 1952 and continued until 1969; became a student newspaper again in 1969; discontinued publication from 1980 until 1989 when it again became a student literary publication.<br /><br />Click on <a title="The Collegian" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=26">Items in The Collegian Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. 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 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. 15 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 The Collegian 11 December 1991 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1991-12-11 Title A name given to the resource The Collegian, December 11, 1991 Description An account of the resource Vol. III, Issue 2 of The Collegian. Published on December 11, 1991. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Cowan, Dianne J. 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Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource pdf Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/f093cf6e035644d2b2a72ca1535c59c0.pdf 5a927349f6a6a2136dbbeb4c283fab04 PDF Text Text Philosophy is concerned with two matters: subtle questions that are trivial, and crucial questions that are insoluble. --Stefan Kanter The Collegian first est. 1888 Tuesday, March 17, 1992 Volume III Issue 3 The publishing policy of The Collegian is to treat all writers or artists and the pieces they submit with respect. Pieces are judged on the basis of readability and interest to the College community. All submissions must be typed. No revision will be adopted without the consent of the writer. Please address correspondence and criticism to Box 391 Mail. NEXT DEADLINE: To Be Please recycle this copy of The Collegian after you are done reading it. The Power of the Small in the Mahabharata It is said near the beginning of the Mahabharata that "They who learn even a quarter couplet of the holy study of the Bharata, and have faith in it, will be purified of all their sins." (Vol. 1, p. 30) This is a start Iing claim to make for any work, but particularly for the Mahabharata, a poem overwhelming in its length and complexity! And in addition, a poem of hyperbole, of glorification of the large, where all war- nors are superhuman, all women goddesses, and all weaponS:i capable of destroying the very earth. Yet lurking in this massive spectacle is great respect for the small, partly expressed in the thought that even the littlest fragments of the Mahabharata take on a life of their own. This respect becomes evident in a number of the stories themselves, as well, and even in some of its representations of Krsna. In one story, Krsna, the all-encompassing Being beyond all other beings, remains after the close of a thousand Eons, amidst utter and universal desolation. There, at the end of everything, the sage Markandeya recounts his meeting with the divine survivor: THE SMALL IN THE MAHABHARATA HIS MISTRESS' EYES ... THREE ORGANS OF THOUGHT IN KANT OCTOBER THIRTEENTH THE FANFARE OF BOATS THE EVENT MATTHEW & ADAM NENIA THE GUil TY BARRICADE NOTES Question 1313 -- The Vegetability of God Then one day I see in the flood of the waters a tall, wide banyan tree. I see a child sitting on a spreading branch of that tree, in a cradle made up with divine coverlets, Bharata, great king, a child with a face like the full moon and eyes as wide as a blooming lotus. I am greatly amazed: "How can this babe lie here, when all the world has come to an end?" I may meditate with all the strength of my austerities, I may know the past, present, and future, yet I do not understand this child. (2, p. 589) Markandeya then enters the child's mouth, only to find an entire, living world, where he wanders for over a hundred years, without ACCARDO VITO JOHNSON HUMPHREY STRATTON CHINWORTH DRAKE BERNS&PASTILLE FRANCKE p. 1 p. 3 p. 5 p. 7 p. 8 p. 11 p. 12 p. 15 p. 18 HUMPHREY p. 19 St. John's College, Annapolis, Md., 21404 �2~~~~~~~-.~~~~~~~~-r~~~~~~~~ exhausting the space within the god. This image of Krsna sums up a number of characteristic properties of the small. A playing with scale has taken place, a ranslation of great into small, which enables the preservation of a universe. At the same time, the passage of the sage from the apparent smallness of the child to the world within reveals the nature of the small as potential and source of life. Markandeya himself points out a third facet of the small: that it is mysterious, and sometimes illusory, having power far more extensive than its physical boundaries might suggest. The preserving char- But whereas thousands of acter of the small resur- strong, lively creatures are faces in a number of tales slaughtered by Arjuna and of catastrophes. There is consumed by the flames, the little fish who entreats a these hatch lings escape. seer for protection, and The Fire God spares them, gradually grows to an partly because he agrees enormous size, ultimately to grant their father a favor, to save the seer from a and partly because of their world-engulfing flood. The own wise supplication. The fish then reveals himself as ridiculously helpless baby Brahma, Lord of the Crea- birds inspire respect in the tures, and has the seer, Fire God, who addresses Manu, create all creatures one of them: anew to inhabit the world. You are the seer In this case, the God's iniOrona. What you have tial appearance as something tiny and powerless uttered is Brahman. I shall serves as a test for Manu, do your desiw, and you though the test seems to shall be in no danger. For be not whether he can see before, Mandapala men through Brahma's disguise, tioned all ofyou to me: "May but rather, whether Manu you spare my little sons has the requisite respect when you burn the forest, for life to be entrusted with he said. That word of his STAFF fashioning all the various and what you have just Malik Gillani '92 creatures. Manu must take spoken are both of grea Deirdre Crosse '93 for granted that saving a weight to me. Therefore Vanessa Stratton '93 little fish is a worthy and tell me what I can do for Nathan Humphrey '94 (1, p. 428 valuable act. Still, from this you. Sarah Stanley '95 apparently trivial act of Kathy Stolzenbach '95 mercy comes the re-crea- Because they please him Janice Thompson '95 with their praise, the Fire tion of the world. Shelly Young '95 Smallness can also be God makes a sort of Dawn Beltz, GI itself a strategy for survival. princely pact with these Jim Berrettini, GI Of the six creatures who baby birds, too young to David Dougherty, GI survive the massive burn- even fly. (Indeed, were they Anton Yoe, GI ing of the Khandava For- old enough to fly, they est, four are newly hatched would surely have been Dianne J. Cowan editors birds, sons of the seer shot down by one of the Robby ~~ease Mandapala, who has re- arrows from Arjuna's inexturned to life as a bird to haustible quiver.) It is an Kevin Dungey, faculty quickly obtain offspring. odd juxtaposition, and an advisor The four hatchlings are acknowledgement of the Printed at St. John's vulnerable enough to con- birds' dignity on the part of College Print Shop sider a rat a threat to their the Fire God. It does seem I Thanks to the Gadfly for the lives equally as dangerous appropriate though, that use of its light board as the Fire--and a less these birds, conceived to L---------~dignifiedwaytodie, to boot. carry on their father's line, 3 should survive the terrors J{is 9vfistress' 'Eyes 5'1..re :A{ptfdng Li/(g. tfie Sun of the Khandava. Again, the small is to act as the Her manner makes one shudder, truth be told. Her shrill, ungodly noise disrupts my life seed of the future. The very seed with The mistress' love he writes on grows so bold, which the many children It roused the wrath of humbly patient wife. born in the Mahabharata Why won't he see, as I do, her fool's game are conceived is another Her difference alone belies her charm. example of the potency of To steal another's love her only aim; the small. Seed spilled into Once her claws grip, he'll know lust's greatest harm. a trough, caught on a leaf, If I've told him once, I'll tell him ever, all manner of variations on Her whorish, coarse appeal will quickly fade. the story of conception take If his ties to her he would but sever, place--even down to the I'd be once more his lovely, loving maid. miraculous mango birth. When quietly I offer him such bliss, Origins are, of necessity, How can he leave my arms that wench to kiss? small. The hundred sons - -SUZANNE VITO '95 of Dhrtrarastra are born from a single mass of flesh, 1-----------,----------~ thus: grow and retake the king- on a sinister cast as well as ship; hence the line at the abenevolentone. Dharma, When the ball was end of the story, "great- who apparently draws no doused, it fell apart into a spirited men grow when distinction between spehundred pieces, each an they are praised." (3, p. 218) cies, arranges for a hermit embryo the size of a thumb In Indra's case, his lack of to be impaled on a stake for joint;afullhundredandone size was a sort of punish- having speared flies on developed one after an- ment of Dharma, an image blades of grass as a child. other from that ball of flesh of his paralyzing guilt which Like Pariksit, the hermit as time went by, 0 lord of cast him into a period of learns that every act, no the people. (1, p. 244) latency. It also effectively matter the size, has its concealed him from the rest consequences. Indeed, Yudhisthira, The tiny embryos then in- of the universe. In several places, the after having conquered the cubate in pots filled with ghee, and so are removed small actively functions as entire world, loses it by the at certain prescribed times, a source of downfall for the innocuous means of a only to become the source great, with apparently dis- game of dice. It is a parof great destruction in the proportionate results. The ticularly interesting exsmall can be as insidious ample of the power of the world. Lack of size can indi- as a virus, as treacherous small. On the one hand, it cate other, more serious as T aksaka, the Snake might be suggested that the deficiencies in a being. King, when he assassi- dice, seemingly insignifiIndra becomes small in his nates the cursed king cant in themselves, are a guilt and forgetfulness af- Pariksit by infiltrating an medium for Dharma itself, ter killing a brahmin; his offering of fruit, disguised of the working of Fate. As wife finds him shrunken as "an ugly copper-colored all apparent random almost to nothing, hidden insect with black eyes." So events, any roll of the dice in a lotus fiber. The other the practical invisibility and has actually been predesgods sing · his glorious semblance of harmless- tined. Given their characdeeds to encourage him to ness of the small can take ter as numbered and sided �~~~~~~~~~.-~~~~~~~~-,-~~~~~~~~s 4~~~~~~~---,-~~~~~~~~-,-~--,---~~~~~- objects, the dice provide a child, has grown into a other creatures, good brahway in which the infinite hateful man whose private min: the living are cannipossibilities of sequence bitterness is translated into bals, what do you think of that? (2, p. 624) and combination can be world warfare. In his discourse to a played out, rolling the wheel of Dharma through time. brahmin, the lawlike hunter Souls have no species, but On the other hand, the dice whose words Markandeya instead are generic. There can be controlled. There is repeats to Yudhisthira, seems to be a distinction a trick to them, one that can describes the qualities of only between creatures and gods. Thus all the living be learned, and not only by the conduct of the strict: are bound up with each the virtuous--as Sakuni's Non violence, true other, constantly affecting skill in gambling proves. And what is the basis of the speech, mildness, sincer- each other, working out trick but something as ity, abstention from threats, their Dharma, killing each simple as counting? The lack of too great a pride, other and being reborn. At the beginning of the dice seem at once an in- modesty, forbearance, se/fstrument for larger pur- control, serenity; wise, Mahabharata, the story of poses, neutral in them- poised, compassionate to the beginning of the Eon is The "great divine selves, and possessed of the creatures, devoid of lust told. an odd life of their own, and hatred, the strict are cause" arises from a single animated and deadly, se- honored by the world. egg. There is unity in the beginning of everything, a ductive and frustrating in (2, p. 623) containing of the larger, their inscrutability. The world is lost to the These qualities all seem to more complicated future. Pandavas by a simple be the result of somehow The complexity of the Magame of dice. As the Pan- making oneself small, of habharata accurately redavas go into exile, Arjuna recognizing one's place in flects that of the world, and prefigures the destruction the larger world--perhaps it is correspondingly long to come by scattering difficult for these larger- ~swell. But the threads of grains of sand, signifying than-lif e warriors. Another its hundreds of stories are the innumerable warriors of the hunter's statements also inextricably woven he will slaughter. Thirteen makes the first of the quali- together. Stories suggest years later, the fate of the ties in his list, nonviolence, stories within stories. Diworld is sealed when seem practically unattain- gressions lead to further digressions. To return to a Duryodhana vows to able: previous concern, perhaps Dhrtrarastra, "We shall not Those seeds of grains the blessedness of learncede to the Pandavas as much land as you can prick they call rice and so forth, ing as little as a quarter with the point of a sharp theyareal/alive,goodbrah- couplet of the poem deneedle, father!" (3, p. 325) min, what do you think of pends on the interconnectThe resentments that con- that? Man strides upon, edness of all the stories, and eats the fact that properly underverge to cause this war that kills, is more than civil war ex- anima/s .... There are many stood and known, even a pand outwards like ripples Jiving creatures in trees and phrase could imply to the made by pebbles thrown in fruits, and many in water, reader the entire rest of the a pond. From a thumb- what do you think of that? epic. As a fragment carries sized embryo, Everything is filled with /iv- with it the echoes of the Duryodhana, the long- ing breathing things, brah- whole, so the small is never awaited, beloved, oldest min.... Creatures live off purely isolated from the whole, and never is it only as it seems. Some of the unity with everything else, from its origins in the egg, clings to it yet. Each small thing or being is, like Krsna when menaced by Duryodhana, revealed by divine eyesight to carry an entire universe with it. As Krsna tells the arrogant prince, miscreant. But here in this again, exemplifies the mysveryspotstandallthePan- terious power of the small. davas, the Andhakas, and Vrsnis, here the Adityas; Rudras, Vasus, and great seers." While the greatspirited Sauri was /aughing, the Thirty Gods sprang thumb-sized from his body, lightning-like and with the glow of fire. (3, p. 428) ..,-JENNIFER ACCARDO '92 And as many more won"Since you in your folly de rs were revealed as part think of measjustoneman, of Krsna's true nature and Suyodhana, you seek to divine entourage. Krsna, This essay was submitted to Mr. Ooskow's preceptoria/. of structure. I applaud Mr. Rosen's excellent appraisal, here grossly paraphrased, of thinking as an activity, and the important distinction between the activity of thinking and the objects of thought. My argument is not with Mr. Rosen's thesis, but with his interpretation of Kant. Mr. Rosen believes that he is greatly at odds with Kant's system, which at one point he described as a kind of large mental factory, on whose conveyor belts our cognitions are constructed. He believes that Kant does not understand the activity of thinking as unstructured in itself. It is this interpretation, not say deprecation, of Kant, with which my essay takesissue. lhopetoshow that Kant's view of thinking as an activity is in accord with Mr. Rosen's, and that, as a matter of fact, supersedes it, because it helps to explain why we, for the intentionally, most part retrain from structureless activity when we think, and indeed are quite put out when we struggle to keep from structuring our mental landscape. The first and crucial mistake that Mr. Rosen made was to restrict his thoughts on Kant to the Critique of Pure Reason, also known as the First Critique. The statement that Kant's whole thought on thinking is contained in the First Critique grates on the ears of anyone who has read his other works, especially the Second and Third Critiques (of Practical Reason and of Judgment, respectively). The First Critique is centered on a species of thinking, namely on that which gives rise to knowledge (a cognition). Since this is only a species of thinking, and one which has its own peculiarities, it The Interplay of the Three Organs of Thought in Kant On January 11, Mr. Stanley Rosen, in his lecture "Is Thinking Spontaneous?" argued that thinking is unstructured. I quite agree with him. See if you do too. Consider the following propositions, which I think are easily granted. 1) As every man can examine any structure, his thinking must be outside of all structure. 2) As men have been irrational in their thoughtS and actions for thousands of years, thought is in no way restricted by any limits, not even by the so-called "law" of non-contradiction, and that which has no limit must be devoid �6~--------~--~~~~~~~--~~~~----~ is not thinking in Mr. Rosen's very general sense of the word. The First Critique is a runduwn of the conditions which must be met for there to be a possibility for scientific knowledge to advance with surety, and is not concerned with the phenomena of poetic raving such as Walt Whitman's quotation, oft repeated by Mr. Rosen: "Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself! I contain multitudes." Kant understands very well that the First Critique is only one way to go about thinking. For instance, in the Critique of Judgment (Analytic of the Beautiful, ss. 19), Kant describes a botanist as having a choice in the way he judges a plant. He may look at the functions of the organs and employ his powers to give him knowledge about the plant, or he may simply reflect on it as a natural form, aliowing his cognitive powers to play with the object, but forming no "knowledge giving" cognition at all about them. The point is this: the three critiques show what kind of rules apply when we think in certain kinds of ways, and are not about thinking in the most general sense. Kant would probably claim to have found the three archetypal powers that people employ, but he allows these three ways to mix together, al- lowing a limitless variety of kinds of thinking. This mixing is what gives rise to Kant's greatest virtue, that he reaches rigorous conclusions concerning our cognitive powers, while allowing them to blend and resonate with our actual experiences. Allow me to give an example from the Critique I have had the most experience with, the Critique of Judgment. Kant shows that a pure judgment of taste must be absolutely free of personal bias and experience concerning the object (Analytic of the Beautiful, ss. 18). This allows a judgment from the cognitive powers common to all men, from our raw humanity, as it were. When we see a painting or sculpture of a particular human being in a particular historical or mythological context, e.g., Michelangelo's David, we can never make a pure judgment of taste about it. It is far too specific to resonate with our raw humanity; we can never entirely lose our bias toward or against it based on its subject matter. But while we lose the universality of the JudgmentofTaste, we gain a symbol of morality. Not only do we get a glimpse of a historical/mythological example of courage in the face of danger, but we see a depiction of perfection ir the human form, which Kant argues prompts us to look into the best part of our- selves, our morality. I find this account extremely moving. It is an excellent example of how Kant uses the Critiques together to comment on our humanity. Kant's general idea of thinking is hence a current through his whole body of writings; it certainly is not confined to the Critique of Pure Reason alone. Thinking for Kant is perhaps best defined as the activity of play between any of the three cognitive powers (understanding, imagination, and reason). The activity of thought must be sought in the capacity that man has to use these powers at his will in any combination thinkable. I have just placed thinking as an activity in relation to the object of his activity, something I cannot remember Mr. Rosen having attempted in his lecture. One left the lecture wondering what makes thinking thinking, if not If thinking is structure. unstructured, what distinguishes it from any other unstructured thing? Why, if thinking is so freelance, is there such tension when I hover in my thought above structure? Why, if I am able to contradict myself, is there such mental tension when I hold two contradictory propositions before me simultaneously or in rapid succession? A few warning notes will lead us into a discussion of these questions about the thinker. We will never be able to behold the thinker. The mental tension I just spoke of is not the thinker, it is an appearance to the thinker. When I say "I am cold," I do not mean that I, the thinker, am cold, but rather that I experience my skin as cold. Likewise, all of our-internal thoughts and feelings are simply experiences beheld as the subject. A simple experiment will confirm this: Try to look at your mind's eye. You can't do it, can you? As you turn your mind's eye around to look at itself, your center of experience has changed and you have missed the object that you Octo6er '1Jiirteentli wanted to see. Hence all that we experience is appearance; the self, or in Kantian terms the suOn rock-sullen shores of grey-washed persensible substrate, is stone never brought into expeMy daimon wanders, pondering its unearthly rience except through an heart. image or a model. Methinks it hears the squawk of birds What this means is in atonal song against the crashing waves. that the purest way for us The iron sky swiftly moves to and fro, echoing to think the thinker is to the upheaval of my daimon's mind. think nothing, of no strucI watch him from the cliffs, that bleak apparition ture. Since self-experiof my thought. ence, as such, is posHe inhabits me from time to time as if I were sible, our lives are dean earthenware urn to be filled void of meaning until we With whatever storms one could fit ensoul our powers with in such a thing. self-forgetting activity. It is almost as if we had a He seems to cut his foot on a piece of shale, canvas or meaning upon for his head raises sharply to the heavens, which to paint our lives. And with eyes closed and mouth agape Concentrating on the attempts to utter paintbrush is beside the But no din rises from his mouth, and point, and the canvas (to crumpling, he steadies himself on the shore. me at least) almost Daimon's shoulders are slack seems to cry out for and I conspire to know his thoughts. something to be painted on it! I'm speaking figuThe souls of others are sewn to their hearts, each stitch increasing harmony of they and theirs. ratively, but I think and hope I could use more But my daimon wanders ever so far, never rigorous arguments to pausing to unpour its museful song. show that this is true. I must catch it when I can - or else Hence, to think listen from afar for its lovelorn cry. about thinking is to atIt never whispers directly in my ear, you see tempt to abandon experiand I think at times I must be deaf. ence. This attempt seems doomed to me, because I am convinced NATHAN J. HUMPHREY '94 that the thinker is bound ~-----------------·-__Jto experience by way of �~~~~~~~~~.--~~~~~~~~--+~~~~~~~~ a~~~~~~~----,~~~~~~~~-,-~~~~~~~~ the body. As for why we, as thinkers, desire experience, I have no satisfactory account at this time. Because he refused to venture an idea about the peculiarities inherent in thinking, Mr. Rosen could never say such telling things about this very special activity. Kant's plan was never The Fanfare of Boats Characters in the dialogue: Friend M. le Bateau Isaac Newton Christiaan Huygens Edmund Halley Friend: Where are you coming from, Newton? You look like you've lost sleep. Newton: I have, I have; I feel as though I've been out all night. Friend: What were you doing? I'll bet it has to do with Edmund Halley. Newton:You're right, of course. But it wasn't just him; Halley's talk rarely fatigues me as much as this man's did. Friend: Who were you speaking with for so long that it made you look as awful as you do now? Newton: Christiaan to give a theory or model for thought itself. He seemed well aware of the problems associated with thinking about thinking. As an alternative, he tried to understand a posteriori what could make certain kinds of mental phenomena possible. Using this method, he threw a light backwards upon the thinker, allowing the student an unspoken understanding of himself through the mysterious and powerful language of inference. Huygens. Friend: Oh, I'd heard that he was in town. What did you talk about? I'd love to hear your conversation. Newton:Well, if you'd really like, I can repeat the whole story for you. Last night, just before dawn, Halley came banging on my door. I pretended to sleep through it, but my servant went to see who was there. The minute the door was opened, Halley ran in, shouting "Newton, do you wake or sleep?" New. "Who could sleep?" I asked him, and got out of bed. "I hope you have no bad news." Hal. "Just good," he replied. "Give me some food to fill my stomach (since I ran all the way here, and had no dinner last night) and I will tell you why I am here." After he'd eaten, he began his story. "Do you know who is in town? Christiaan Huygens! New. Yes, and he has been all week. Surely this is no reason to wake me? Hal. Well, I just learned it tonight, he answered. Huygens is to give a lecture at the college tomorrow, but I'm not a student there. If I wish to hear him, I'll have to pay. New. What is the fee? Hal. Twice what I have. New. Well, we wouldn't want a small thing like money to stand between you and the vast knowledge of a man like Huygens. I suppose that if we put all of your money together with all of mine, it should be more than enough to pay for what Huygens may teach you. But if even that does not suffice, we may add to it the money of all of my friends. But before we give him any of our money, let's be sure we know what we're paying a fee for. When a student pays money to hear a scientist, it is to learn what the scientist knows. For instance, if you had paid for what I've taught you, what do you suppose you would --KEVIN JOHNSON '93 9 morning, Mr. Huygens, this and pools, taking the boat have been paying for? young man, Edmund Hal- along with it." Hal. For learning the moThe crowd seemed tions of the planets, among ley, is a student of mine, quite pleased with the many other things which and though I have taught him well, he believes there Huygens' response. also baffled the ancients and none but you could is more he may learn from New. ''This will not do at you. But, first, we have a all," I said. "We ask what have discerned. New. And if you went to question to put to you. You you teach, and you answer Leibniz, what would you see, Edmund is free with with a story of what you my money, but he doesn't think may be true? Don't want him to teach you? Hal. Nothing that you have like to throw it away. Be- bodies always do the not already shown me bet- fore he pays for you1· lec- same things, and isn't it ture, he wants a sampling necessary for a scientist to ter. New. And had you gone to of your wares. Therefore, if say what those things are, Descartes, what would he you will give us an indica- whether they be of motion tion of where you begin-- or of rest? Come now, tell have taught you? Hal. To call my own confu- that is, of your first prin- us your second principle sion an unshakable clear- ciples--we may decide without the fanfare of boats; ness and distinctness; whether he really wants any and, I beseech you, be more sure of yourself. We more of you." what else? At that, M. le Bateau mustn't have you sounding New. Nothing else at all. But what about Huygens? suggested the whole party like a young boy who is You've no desire ever to be adjourn to his parlour to sit afraid to say what he really an oarsman, have you? and hear how Huygens thinks, lest grown men tell What do you wish to learn would answer me. Once him he is wrong. we were seated, Huygens Huy. Again Newton, all I from this man? can tell you is that I think Hal. Well, I can't exactly said: say. But whatever it is, it Huy. "I am flattered that equal bodies moving toward each other with equal will surely make me a bet- one of your students wants anything at all from me, for velocities will each rebound ter scientist. New. You cannot say that there is probably nothing I with the same equal velocuntil you know what he will can say which you have ity, what ever may be the teach you. Come, it's day not already shown him. As cause of their rebounding, now, and a more decent for my first principles, I must after mutual contact. hour to pay a call. I happen tell you, first of all, that I New. Another "may be." I to know that Huygens is think this may be so: A am a very simple man, and staying with M. le Bateau body, once moving, con- don't know what on earth while he is in town. We will tinues to move perpetually to do with your "maybes." go and ask just what he with the same velocity and You must tell it to me in a straight line, if no im- straight. If you know someteaches. pediment is interposed to thing, tell me that you know We walked to the house of M. le Bateau, and it. For example, a boat it. knocked at his door. When moving down a river might Huy. I am willing, for a the door was opened, we continue to move with the moment, to play by your saw that many others were same velocity and in the rules. How would you have me say what my principles there ahead of us. Out of same straight line for ever, respect to me, they let us if the water did not change are? speak to Huygens without direction, or if the river didn't New. Well, I would have call them laws and state waiting. I began, "Good bend, or have rapids, falls, you �11 10~--------~---------~--------~ them as the self-evident think we would be hard Newton speaks of compelaxioms they are: pressed to find a body at ling only becausehe wants Law /: Every body rest. What on a boat is still to include rest in his axicontinues in its state of rest moves with respect to the oms, not because compulor of uniform motion in a shore; and what sits on the sions are in any way more right line, unless it is com- shore will move if I happen self-evident than my axpelled to change that state to ride by it on a boat. iom." by forces impressed upon New. I will allow that moThe whole crowd, and it. tion and rest, as commonly Law II: To every ac- conceived, are only rela- especially Halley, was so tion there is always op- tively distinguished; nor are well pleased by Huygens's posed an equal reaction: those bodies always truly answer that this time many or, the mutual actions of at rest which are commonly of them actually applauded. bodies upon each other are taken to be so. But I hope The applause so nausealways equal, and directed you will say more about ated me that I could hardly to contrary parts. However, whetherthis axiom of yours speak up. since I see that there is a applies equally to bodies New. "Would you say the same about our second greater difference between taken as being at rest. yourhypotheses and my Huy. Well, I can at least axioms?" I asked him. laws than simply the cer- say that I see no reason to "Surely you can't reduce tainty of the latter, we'll believe a body a rest might the difference between phrase your principles suddenly start to move these axioms to only the exactly as you have, but unless something came choice of whether to include remove their hypothetical along to causethat change. rest. While I give the law all nature by calling them axi- I hope you see now, young actions follow, you stay on Mr. Halley, that this differ- the relatively safe ground oms, or laws. Huy. You are certainly right ence (between motion of equal bodies meeting dithat I would not have al- alone, and rest and mo- rectly at equal speeds. My lowed the first way you tion) is not important to the law applies just as accurephrased my hypotheses. distinction between laws rately to the case where Of only one body moves. For Hal. But wouldn't you have and hypotheses. to, Huygens, if you were to course, there is another example, if a ball, A, moves call them laws as Newton difference between our two with a certain velocity and axioms. Newton speaks of strikes a ball B, which is at does? Huy. I don't think so, and I a body changing its state rest, B will react with the believe Newton will agree when compelled by forces same velocity A had before with .me. Why don't I tell impressed upon it; I speak impact. There is no need you just what I think the of an impediment to a to limit the axiom as you difference is between my body's motion. This differ- do. axioms and Newton's? ence follows from the first. Huy.Now, I know I was Look at the first of each. It makes little sense to supposed to stick to just For one thing, my axiom speak of hindering a body's my first principles, but I feel deals only with bodies in rest, but it makes perfect I must tell you that I prove motion, while Newton's sense to speak of compel- what you have just said in deals both with rest and ling a body at rest;that is, of my first proposition. motion. Now, you mustn't making it do something. New. Well, whether you take this to mean that I It makes just as much sense prove it or not is irrelevant, don't believe bodies at rest to speak of making a body because we are really trying follow this axiom. Rather, I stop, or change its motion. to answer Edmund's ques- t1on about your uncertainty. The 'Ifie 'Event biggest difference between weird days ... apathetic haze, and oh god! the surprise? our second axi- --just a whimsical fury, just a smile, and oms is that yours amaze; amazement ... ditch the throne, shape upwards with begins What- metal hands, the aching home. It aches for us-ever may be the Aces and Roses are thrown! yes-- even yes for me: cause of the rebounding of hard I was in panic, the day I heard; in love, with what I saw. bodies after mutual contact... • a flapping card, along the "evening breeze," Surely, an axiom nodding aginst the curb; I catch, lean back: a captain, cannot begin serving the crazy laugh! with such an un- the big-eyed reasons? why ... there are none! certain clause as do it anyway, again. your 'whatever do it for the look, and for the may be.' slow spinning brook ... Huy. I admit that slower eyes: 'whatever' up-- around-- sideways-- Through-doesn't deal with causes in a clear I was panicked, day I heard, in love, with what I saw. manner, but I have a suspicion marching out of a dream, up long places and clearing through that my 'what- my shaking faces, knowing: this is the last time. ever' is just what The arc-- him turning right, her, left; and of the sun, you mean by the glinting table, and of the separate smiles. 'force' in law one. A few drops of gilded boon! But, since you This is about the strangers I saw across the god! damn! room. haven't told me Record: "Beauty: what you mean for it is not a need, but an ecstasy." by force, it is no clearer than my -- JENNIFER CHINWORTH '94 '------,-w-o-r-ld-.---------.--b-o-d-ie_s_? _ _ _ _ __ _ 'whatever.' I felt dizzy, like a boxer who has just received a sharp blow to the head. Before I could respond, he continued: Huy. I do indeed try to keep to safer ground, but even on the topic of equal bodies meeting with equal velocities, I don't feel safe enough to speak as you do and call my hypotheses axioms. Nothing is less self-evident, in my opinion, than that mathematics applies directly to motion in the real New. Now see who isn't defining his terms. What do you mean by 'math does not apply to the real world'? Huy. I mean only that, though I see correlations between geometry and the actual motions of bodies-that is, between geometry and mechanics--! am not ready to presume to know that the two are equivalent. New. Do you, then, think it only coincidental if geometry can describe and prediet the motions of natural Huy. How do you mean this? New. I am not alone in subjecting natural motion to the principles of mathematics; I only follow what other modern philosophers, including yourself, have done. Even you would not deny that geometry bears some relation to natural mechanics. Why, then, do you deny the legitimacy of my assertion that this relationship is a direct one? Huy. Most probably, it is. I �by its very nature, tied up in am, in fact, almost certain mechanics. New. Let's back up from the problems of mechanthat this is so; otherwise, I ics, it is foolish to talk as if it would not have written my this problem for a minute. cannot be applied to metreatise as I wrote it. How- What do you s u p p o s e chanics. ever, I don't think we can geometrical princip!Gs are derived from? Geometry Huy. You argue too well, be certain about this matNewton. I must concede ter. History provides many requires that the learner until I have had time examples of a mathemati- should first be taught to to think on these definitions cal theory of mechanics draw right lines and circles, of geometry and mechanwhich was soon displaced but does not teach how to draw them. These are ics, which are new to me. by another. Even before New. When you have, I the next came along, mechanical problems, not geometrical. It is the glory would be glad to continue people were aware of inacour conversation." curacies in the first. How of geometry that it is able from those few principles, can we be sure that any And there the mathematical theory can brought from without, to produce so many things. conversation ended. correctly explain naturalmotion, since none has Therefore, geometry is stood up to all objections? founded in mechanical New. The ancients consid- practice, and is nothing but -- VANESSA ered mechanics in a two- that part of universal meSTRATTON '93 fold respect; as rational, chanics which accurately which proceeds accurately ;:-iroposes and demonfrom demonstration, and strates the art of measurThis paper was submitted to Mr. Oungey's practical. To practical ing, chiefly of measuring Junior Laboratory mechanics all the manual the magnitude of moving arts belong, from which- bodies. Since geometry is, mechanics took its name. But as art if ice rs do not work with perfect accuracy, it comes to pass that mechanics is so distinguished from geometry that that what is perfectly accurate is called geometrical; what is less so, is called mechanical. However, the errors are not in th£ art, but in the artificer. Huy. You are right to say that many errors can be attributed to the individual mechanic ratherthan to the art ·of mechanics as a whole. But to say this is so oi 13.ll errors still seems presumptuous to me. We still have no evidence that geometry can explain Love. Matthew took the dust cloth, ran it over some bookshelves, ran it between his legs like a stripper with a boa and then tried to make an erotic act Matthew was cleaning the out of spraying Pledge onto apartment. He'd dry- a dirty rag. He dusted the mopped hardwood floors other bookshelf. Madonna and wet-mopped kitchen started to bellow how "love and linoleum; he'd shaken out is understanding" asked for someone to throw rugs off their front porch, he'd scrubbed tile Rescue (Her). Matthew twisted his and cleaned sinks and toiway over to a sideboard lets and mirrors and bathtubs. Now he was dusting. covered with knickknacks. The stereo was going He dusted the sideboard. gangbusters with the slow, he dusted the knickknacks, pumping rhythm of Ma- he moved them around, he donna Justifying [Her] put them back where they Matthew & Adam 13 were. "Hey he, hey hey," he sang along, doing a grind reminiscent of a dirty hula while twirling the rag in the air. "R-E-S-C-U-E me, only you can rescue me" he pumped himself in a circle and faced Adam, standing by a just-closed front door, grocery bags by his feet and a bemused expression on his face. Matthew was caught off guard for only a second and then fell back into his boogie. He bumped his way over to Adam, ground his hips against those of his lover and Adam met him halfway with a kiss. "Practicing for that parttime job you're gonna have to get next time we can't make the car payment?" Matthew pulled back, surprised. "Parttime?" "Yeah yeah," Adam said. He pushed Matthew away from him slightly, reached down and picked up two grocery bags, which he handed to him just as Madonna faded away with the thrum-thrum of a heartbeat. "Floor show's over. Let's put this shit away," and Adam walked off toward the kitchen. "Hey!" Matthew said following. "Whats'a matte~ you? Ain't you gonna tell me how lovely the place looks?" A bad Italian accent became a worse Cockney one. "Oiveworked me fingers t'the boine fer ye this morn," Irish, "Sure 'n't'begorra I have." Adam shut him up with a quick kiss. "Place looks great," he said. He turned away to put cans of refried beans in the cupboard. Matthew handed him a few cans of soup from the bags he had carried in. Adam put those away too. "Ensure the continuance of Western Civilization today, dear?" Matthew asked. Adam grunted a small grunt. "Write any good books today sweetheart?" "A little this morning. You?" Adam shrugged. "I don't know." He turned from putting a can of spinach up on the shelf. "I think I'm reaching the point where I've been teaching long enough for it to slip into something rote, something, I don't know, non-special." Matthew listened. "It's not. I mean, it hasn't, yet. I just get the feeling I need to be on my guard is all." Adam put the can of spinach on the shelf where it belonged. Matthew gave him a small pat on the back. "You'll work through it. You'll be all right. You won't let those young'uns down." "I really wish you'd wear your little cheerleading outfit before slipping into this routine." "I would but I think I used my porn-porns to dust with. And now YOU" -- he clapped Adam on the back -- "can finish putting all this stuff away. I'm off to the showers. We still on for dinner at Lis'beth's and Oph's?" Adam's head was buried in the freezer, where he was stacking steaks, swordfish and chicken. "Is it still our anniversary?" "It is, and it's number four; where.'smypresent?" "Go take a shower, you greedy bitch. We're still on for dinner." "I love it when you call me names." Matthew trotted off to the shower. Adam banged his head on the freezer door. "Ouch!" he said, and backed away carefully from the refrigerator. He rubbed the sore spot on his skull. He looked down at the partially disembowelled bags around his feet. He knelt to gather packages of pasta. From the bathroom, he heard the sound of running water and Matthew singing the words to "Like a Virgin." Fruit, Adam thought, grinning. Four years; keee-rist and he put the pasta away, in a cupboard above the counter, next to the place where they kept the spaghetti sauce. Ophelia & Elizabeth Matthew followed Adam down the stairwell of their apartment building, the new carpeting of the �~~~~~~~~-,,-~~~~~~~~,-~~~~~~~~15 14~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~--r~~~~~~~~~- steps feeling springy beneath his feet. The collar of his tweed blazer had gotten turned under when he swung the jacket on; he tugged at it now to try to straighten it out. They reached the bottom landing, Adam held the door open for him, and snagged Matthew's collar into proper alignment as he passed. Matthew flicked him a grateful grin. They walked through the courtyard of their building, a dark brick and wood co-op built sometime in the 1920's. They didn't talk much, taking in the feeling of the walk and the balm of the air. Matthew and Adam shared a relaxed, loping kind of gait which moved them quickly yet unhurriedly through crowds, airport terminals, train stations, grocery stores, and along sidewalks to friends' apartments. Twenty minutes later and the two men bounded up a step onto a private walk leading to the front door of a converted Victorian rowhouse. They passed gas lamps on either side of the walk, original to the building's construction. Recently painted black, the lamps held blue and yellow flames that wavered behind bubbled glass in the onset of twilight. A small breeze passed Adam and Matthew as they reached the front door, bringing with it the smell of supper from some- one's nearby kitchen: roasted meat and soft spices. The door was open and they pushed in, Matthew leading, Adam following. They climbed two flights of thinly carpeted stairs to stand before a white painted door. A red street bicycle leaned against' a wall; a fire ext inguisher hung above it. Adam rang the buzzer; the piece of paper taped above said "Rodriguez-Stern." The door swung open to rnveal the smiling, dark face of Ophelia Stern. She held a flattened spatula aloft in greeting. "Come on in boys," she beamed. "Supper's on!" Adam and Matthew both smiled at the sight of this familiar, loved woman. "Thanks, Oph," Adam said, and bent to kiss her cheek as he passed her into the house headed for the kitchen and, he knew, Ophelia's lover Elizabeth. Matthew murmured "Hi" and stopped to hug Ophelia. A large, pale-colored mongrel dog came running, nails clattering, feet skidding on the hardwood floors, happy at last to leap up at Matthew, who tore himself from Ophelia's embrace to squat low and let the dog ravage his face with fast, wet kisses. His hands swiftly moved to scratch the dog behind the ears. While dodging the dog's kisses he said, "yes yes Bruce I've missed you too. I have." He drew the dog close to him, hugged the warmth of the animal. "Oh-it's-so-good-to-seeyou." He let go of the dog with a playful swat to find Ophelia smiling at him, her hand still on the handle of the open door. He moved as though to apologize and she shushed him with "No hurry, girlfriend, no hurry. door's open, door's shut, you one white boy I know ain't going away." She shut the door behind them, caliing out into the apartment, "Elizabeth, company's come call in'!" Matthew followed her into the house. He smelled the food cooking, the same smell hinted at in the breeze below. He heard the laughter and the sounds of Adam's voice with Elizabeth's as they traded news; quick jabs of wit and love. Entering the kitchen, he saw Elizabeth's smiling face turn toward him and fill with happiness at his presence. He saw this, and he saw Ophelia swat Adam's hand as he tried to steal a fingertipful of mashed sweet potatoes from a pot upon the stove. Michael "Dinner was great." Matthew let out a belch which rumbled about the Victorian cornices of the buildings they passed while he and Adam walked home from Ophelia and Eliza- beth's; a small distance of fifteen blocks. The air was filled for a moment with the smell of garlic, tomatoes, basil and oregano and, slightly, coffee. Adam wrinkled his nose as the smells curled about him. "Phew," he said, and waved his hand in front of his face. "You get home, shadows of the buildings, of the alleys that ran behind them, away from streetlamps and passing car headlights, toward dumpsters, garbage cans and the bloated dark corpses of stuffed trash bags. Pressed up against a wall, his arms pulled Adam to him. Their bodies "Right here," Adam said. "Right now." His hands reached out and unbuttoned the top button of Matthew's shirt, loosened his lover's tie. "No." They fell back deeper into the shadows. "Rape." Matthew's cry was small and 1\&nia Even beauty must perish! What captivates both gods and humans Moves not the pitiless heart, iron within Stygian Zeus. Only once did love overpower the Lord of the Shadows,. Yet, at the threshhold itself, sternly he took back his gift. Nor does Aphrodite stanch the wound of the beautiful youth, Which had been cut by the boar hard in the delicate flesh. Nor is the godlike hero preserved by his undying mother When, at the Skaian Gate, falling, he acts out his fate. But she ascends from the sea with all the daughters of Nereus, And the mourning begins over the glorified son. See there! the gods -- they are weeping, and all of the goddesses, weeping That what is beautiful fades, that what is excellent dies. Even to be a lament on the lips of a loved one is glorious; For what is common goes down to Orcus unsung. FRIEDRICH SCHILLER, translated by GISELA BERNS & WILLIAM PASTILLE, tutors you brush your teeth or I know one faggot in this city who won't be getting laid tonight." "I'm sure you know more than one, dear," Matthew said. The coffee had wound them both up a little bit;the walk back would calm them down. Matthew reached out and snared Adam's hand in his and yanked him back into the pressed together. Their mouths touched, lips parted, tongues played wet games of hide and seek. "Hmmm." Matthew let out a low rumble of pleasure and Adam ground his hips against Matthew's. Their mouths met and Matthew moaned again. "Right here," Adam said. "Right now." "No." shushed and unmeant. Adam pressed his head against the rough cloth of Matthew's shirt as he loweredhimselftokneelinfront of the man. He rubbed his face against the cloth of Matthew's pants, felt the rising hardness beneath, rubbed his face harder there, mouth open, small trailsofspituponthefabric. Matthew let his head �16~~~~~~~~~..-~~~~~~~~~-.-~~~~~~~~~ roll back upon his shoUI· ders and he groaned. He shut his eyes. He opened them. The sky was black. No stars. His head fell forward and he saw, a hundred feet away or less, the passing dark bodies of cars, the quiet roaring of their rolling tires upon the asphalt and he saw the edges of the light, the pools of light beyond this alley, beyond this private world. He heard the roaring of his own breathing in his ears. Adam took him in his mouth. "I love you," Matthew said, his head rolling back upon his shoulders once again, his eyes shut to the empty sky. "Adam, I love you completely." Adam pulled away from his lover for a moment, full of the taste of him in his mouth, the familiar smell of this man rich about his face. "Yes," he said, "Matthew. I love you completely too." Matthew's head hammered forward, caught by the speeding swing of the lead pipe at the base of his skull, lurching him onto Adam and knocking him to the ground, upon his back. Matthew was yanked up, off of Adam and Adam could see a tall, sturdily built form in a long coat holding Matthew up with one hand. The tall man threw Matthew up against the wall, clattering againstthetin lids of hollow trash cans. In his other hand the tall man held a thick piece of lead pipe and he used it now to whack Matthew hard from right to left across the face. Adam thought he heard the crack, the breaking of a bone and he was up, he was standing and there was a flash of pain in his ankle and he fell, he went down again and there was a yanking he was up and a heavy hand threw him up against the other wall of the alley and he ducked and the lead pipe whooshed by above his head. Adam lunged forward and tackled the tall man. He grabbed him about the waist and used his body weight to bring him down upon the ground. In the background, far, it seemed, away from them, he heard something that sounded like Matthew groaning. The lead pipe clipped Adam under the chin and sent him flying back, off of the tall man, who now rose, steadily, to his feet. Adam crouched there, cornered, his breath coming in ragged small gulps. He tasted blood in his mouth; a small trickle of it had slipped from the left corner of his mouth and licked at it. The tall man stood before him now, strong, confident, the lead pipe hanging loosely in his right hand, at his side. The tall man turned and stepped toward Matthew, twisted still upon the trash cans. No. Adam stood. No. The tall man stroked Matthew's hair with his left hand, absently. Ran his hand along the leather sleeve of Matthew's jacket. He took the edge of the pipe and played it along the line of Matthew's jaw, Matthew's mouth, Matthew's nose, his eyes, his brow. Adam let out a yell and hurled himself on the tall man, knocking him again to the -ground and the tall man lost his grip on the lead pipe; Adam heard it clattertotheground. Adam spun, he moved as the tall man fell and he sat astride the tall man and he used his weight to hold him down he used his knees to pin the tall man's arms to the ground and he used his fist to punch the tall man in the face and he drew back and clenched his hands together and into two quick motions, hammered the tall man's face, right-left, left right. "Mother-fuck," Adam said and the tall man looked up at him and Adam looked down at the tall man and the tall man had eyes of skylight blue and hair of sandy blond and Adam had eyes of brown and hair of black and the tall man got a small smile across his face and he reared up, he used his elbows and spine to buck Adam from him like a seventeen-year old first time rider at the rodeo and Adam was down on the ground and the tall man ~~~~~~~~~-r-~~~~~~~~~-.-~~~~~~~~17 kicked him hard, between the legs with what felt to be a heavy boot and Adam groaned and curled in pain and the tall man stared down at him for a moment, blinked once, and, smiling again, moved over to the trash cans where Matthew lay. The tall man picked up the lead pipe from where it had fallen in the alley and he used it now to draw Matthew upright, pressing the pipe against his throat, against Matthew's windpipe and listening, as he loved to do, to the changes in life-giving breath as he pressed down, let go upon the cartilage. He thrust the end of the lead pipe into Matthew's mid-section and Matthew doubled over, only to have the same end of lead pipe catch him on the chin and smack him back upwards once again. He sagged against the brickwork. The tall man stepped back for a moment and contemplated his options. "No," Adam said, "Please." Adam tried to rise. The tall man turned to look at him; his face was blank of all expression. Adam said it again: "No. Please." Then Adam heard the tattooing begin. The lead pipe slammed against ribs, against arms, against the bones of Matthew's face, against legs, against his knees, into his groin. He was pitched about and the pipe was brought down heavily upon his skull, his shoulder blades, the back of his ribcage, across his spine. it slammed into his hips, against his legs, his elbows, his hands. Matthew sagged chest-first against the wall. A dark blood seeped out of his mouth. The tall man walked toward Adam. The tall man slipped the piece of lead piping into a deep front pocket of his coat. He looked down upon Adam, crawling there, trying to rise. He reached down, he grabbed Adam by his shirt collar and yanked him to his feet. He let go, he reached back, he pulled back and he hit Adam square in the face with the thick meaty fist of his right hand. Adam staggered back toward the street and the tall man followed, pulled him upright and hit him again in the face with the broad flatness of his left fist. Adam staggered back again and the man hit him again, kept hitting him, pushing him back toward the street. Adam felt the breaking, the give of s~at­ tered cartilage in his nose. A blow to his side gave him the feeling of cracking ribs and the sharp stab of hurt upon breathing. The tall man started hitting Adam as Adam had hit him, thick fists clenched into one and the blows hammering right-left, leftright, driving Adam back. Whenever Adam started to fall the tall man dragged him upright once more and hit him again, fast, hard, before Adam had had a chance to crumple and then they stood there, at the entranceway of the alley, close to the world of pools of light and others and the tall man stepped back and Adam stood there, bloodied, battered and weaving and the tall man sifted a bit and jumped and kicked and Adam went flying out from the edge of the alleyway into the path of a car moving down the street. There was a thump, and the squealing of brakes and cries of "Omigod!" and the tall man fell back into the shadows, back toward his lead pipe, back toward the trash cans, and Matthew. He smiled, and his ears were deaf to the noise, the covering distraction less than one hundred feet away. Epilogue Light, bright white and hurting. His eyes opened, then shut, then opened again. Everything was blurry. A dark form leaned over him. He saw movement above him; he felt the placing of a warm hand upon his forehead. More movement, then the voice, thick and familiar, "Lisabeth! He's awake!" He slept. --ROBERT DRAKE, GI �18 19 Notes: Question 1313 THE VEGETABILITY OF GOD (Jn Five Hundred Articles) [Introduction omitted] First Article WHETHER GOD COULD BE SAID TO BE A PEA? We proceed thus to the First Artic/e:-Objection 1. It seems that God is not a pea. For peas are green and green is a sign of corporealness. But God is not corporeal, as has been shown above. Therefore God is not a pea. Obj. 2. Further, if God were a pea, he would be tasty. But no man can taste God, as taste is not predicated of spiritual beings. On the contrary, God is a pea. For peas are good, and God is good. Therefore God is a pea. I answer that, There are two ways in which something may be called a pea. The first predication is that of a pea in actuality. For as a pea is corporeal and has substance, it therefore has an essence whereby we say that a thing is. Thus can a pea be green and tasted, and further, can a pea be beneficial to us. The second way by which the word "pea" may be predicated of something is by way of analogy. It is in this sense that God may be called a pea. For insofar as God shares qualities such as goodness and beneficence, He may be likened unto a pea. But as regards the equation of God with pea, it must be held that this is impossible. For God can in no wise have essence of the same sort as that of a pea. Reply Obj. 1. The way by which we speak of God as a pea is by analogy only, as has been stated above. Reply Obj. 2. God is tasty. For the Eucharist has taste. And the Eucharist tastes good, as has been shown above. Therefore God has both taste and that taste which is good. 6 JJ --PSEUDO-AQUINAS rn ,, G) JJ )> z () :::,;; rn (!:) I\) (a.k.a. NATHAN J. HUMPHREY '94} L � 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 Collegian Description An account of the resource The Collegian began as a student newspaper; became a college community literary publication in 1952 and continued until 1969; became a student newspaper again in 1969; discontinued publication from 1980 until 1989 when it again became a student literary publication.<br /><br />Click on <a title="The Collegian" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=26">Items in The Collegian Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. 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Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context The Collegian 17 March 1992 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1992-03-17 Title A name given to the resource The Collegian, March 17, 1992 Description An account of the resource Vol. III, Issue 3 of The Collegian. Published on March 17, 1992. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Cowan, Dianne J. (Editor) Nease, Robby (Editor) 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 Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/77237e3577bb313d592c8bf44aaffd18.pdf ab2ae747a8321367287eb4646e4e1d11 PDF Text Text A work is never completed except by some accident such as weariness, satisfaction, the need to deliver, ordeath:for, in relation to who orwhatis making it, it can only be one stage in a series of inner transformations. 20 --Paul Valery, Recollection The Collegian rirsl Volume lll Issue 4 Bastard The publishing policy of The Collegian is to treat all writers or artists and the pieces they submit with respect. Pieces are judged on the basis of readability and interest to the College Community. All submissions must be typed. No revision will be adopted without the consent of the writer. Please address correspondence and criticism to Box 391 Campus Mail. NEXT DEADLINE: To Be Announced In the upheaval which frames the drama of King Lear, much is said regarding nature, most statements lamenting the ways in which the natural order of things has been thrown asunder. One figure, however, seems not to display any sincere alleigiances, save to himself. Despite much affectation, the bastard Edmund's perception of Nature shows no deference to the established societal order, hence his actions are, in a certain sense, the least inhibited of any character. He has been spurned enough by the 'natural order' of his culture to be resentful; yet, he is gifted ~SI. I xxx Friday May X 1992 with enough 1ntu1t1on to 1 quy at the outset of Act I, immediately penetrate the scene ii, wherein he avows naivity of Edgar, the gulli- "Thou, Nature, art my godbility of his father, the im- dess; to thy law/ My servpetuousness of Cornwall, ices are bound" (11.1-2). Inand the covetousness of deed, he has little recourse Regan and Goneril. He but to call upon the remaintains an unshaken, sources of instinct and cunthough entirely hypocritical, ning with which he was course until the very mo- born. Already, the previments when death en- ous scene has revealed the croaches, and his uncanny guarde~ and grudging sort successes are all gained of recognition which the by native wit. Is he not Duke of Gloucester has impressive? Has he deigned apropos for this plumbed some depth of the bastard son. Edmund has 'natural element' in man certainly not misinterpreted which the other figures, in the very real detriments of their incessant stumblings illegitimacy, yet nonetheover societal expectation less he has not allowed and formalcy, have missed these consequences to sap or misread? the confidence he has for The bellwether of all his own inherent ability, thought and deed which the albeit manipulative and bastard son conceives and self-serving. execute~ during the drama What Edmund proffers is offered up in his solilo- in the speech of 1,ii may be BASTARD LAUGHTER, FASTER ON REFUTING THE ANALOGY PATER NOSTER POR TODA LA HERMOSA For All Beauty -- A Translation INSOMNIA DESPITE THE STORM ON CONSIDERING FOREIGN POETRY CHAUCER UNTO HIS PURSE FIT THE SIX-AND-TWO-THIRDS GOODBYE, FAREWELL AND AMEN STEVENS DOUGHERTY NEASE STEVENS Juan de la Cruz PARKHURST MANZUR DOUGHERTY CRAIG STRA HON/HUMPHREY NEASE The Editors St. John's College, Annapolis, Md.. 21404 p. 1 p. 3 p.4 p. 5 p.6 p. 7 p. 8 p. 8 p. 9 p. 10 p. 11 p. 12 �3 thought of as the 'bastards' lament,' the anthem of all who, by no personal fault, have been denied access to the mainstream of society because of dubious origins. His argument centers upon an extremely emotional questioning of the causes of his deprivation, which nonetheless bears a hauntingly rational tone. The strength of his complaint is the assertion that the very conventions which ostracize bastards from the community are' themselves the contrived and artificial elements which men have draped over the spindly shoulders of society. When Edmund cites "the plague of custom" and " the curiosity of nations" (11.3-4) as the sources of his denigration, rites of title and favored he is clearly deeming such sons hip due from the Duke forces as mere facades himself. By the auspices of raised by men fraught with Nature, the bastard creates anxiety, rather than any a new standard of legiti profound love for order and macy, which usurps and accountability. overwhelms the old. The His questions are star- sort of 'order' (actually a tling. lndemandingtoknow deliberate sort of chaos why illegitimacy is tanta- which Edmund incites is a mount to inferiority- "Why direct strike at the very brand they us with base? system portrayed as 'natu with baseness? bastardy? ral' all around him. His base, base?" (11.9-10) - claims become a mockery Edmund forges his thetic of the marriage bond. of claim, that by Nature, that inheritance laws, of familial is, in respect to the physi- and blood ties, of anything cal and mental abilities save what a man can forge inh~rent in a h~ma.n bei~~· by and fo~ himself. Having he 1s every bit his leg1t1- begun with an avowal of mate brother's equal. H~ devotion, the speech thrusts their parallel quall- comes truly a darkening ties upon the scale of Na- catechism as it fitly ends tu re with "my dimensions with an entreaty, "Now are as well compact, my gods, stand up for bas mind as generous, and my tards!" (I. 22). Ceaselessly, unerr shape as true" (II. 7-8), and STAFF finds no discrepancy which ingly, the course of Nature Malik Gillani '92 would cry out for his abase- hurtles Edmund, by the Deirdre Crosse. '93 ment. Unsatisfied to rest force of the cunning he Vanessa Stratton '93 his resentments so simply, j serves, to the apex of his Nathan Humphrey '94 he goes yet further in the 1desires. He penetrates the Sarah Stanley '95 Kathy Stolzenbach '95 comparison, invoking the souls around him to the tantalizing idea that a child point of necessity, then Janice Thompson '95 conceived in the heat of discards them without the Shelly Young '95 adulterous intrigue is yet 1 emotional and legal encum Dawn Beltz, GI more 'blessed' by Nature berances of guilt which Jim Berrettini, GI than any babe born of a would crush a man bur David Dougherty, GI "dull, stale, tired bed" (1.13) dened by the shackles o Anton Yoe, GI of marriage. Such rever- societal constraint. His ence, bordering on fanati- 1 ascent is calculated and yet Dianne J. Cowan editor~ cism, for the code of Na- I charmed, logical and yet Robby Nease ture is evinced in the ex- j mystic. He has gone from tremity to which he has 1 oft-exiled bastard son, to Kevin Dungey, faculty chosen to follow this line of heir. to outright Duke, to advisor reasoning. Being superior champion of battle, poised Printed at St. John's to Edgar by Nature, he thus for kingship. While the College Print Shop merits his brother's inheri- other characters are reel '----------~ tance and station and the I ing in the miasma of shat I I I I i ?e tered trust, betrayal, and regret, Edmund has risen upon the shoulders of the Natural spirit so active within him, so unrestrained and virile. Exhibiting no apparent hesitance or conscience until the final scene of the play, he seems thin and two-dimensional, yet has nonetheless escaped the 'St. Vitus' Dance' of infectious madness which has overwhelmed thesefracturedfamilies. He climbs whilst they crumble. Why then does he repent? Why does he not choose to laugh scornfully after Edgar deals him a mortal wound, to shout mockingly of the death he has already sent Cordelia to, with Lear as ravening witness? Why is it insufficient for him to simply assert that "The wheel is come full circle; I am here" (V,iii,211 ), in deference to fate and ill fortune, and thence to expire? Apparently, the Nature he serves lacks in some way, has some gaping breach in the smooth Machiavellian exterior. Edmund is unable to do good to another person at the expense of his own He ·can know devices. neither pity nor compassion unless he recognizes the bonds of loyalty and law as somehow necessary to be fully human, whether art if ice or no. Hence, when death breathes coldly upon his cheek in expectation, and the bastard gasps "I pant for life" (V,iii,291 ), he Laughter Taster Casting 'lVliim I am the song of siren's gaze Gauzing logic's steril maze, And pausing intellects' ceaseless din With the sudden sound of whim. Laughter with envy, pride and hate Does rise and swell and masturbate Upon instant fortunes won withal Within the moment's passing. Casting unaccountable naughts at them, I dream upon the slippery slim, As slim impossibilities' realities reach, Everything is an endless subjecC So hie and hide and fie away! Along your throng of thoughts do sway. For the ceaseless churning yearning calls, And I am falling, falling, faster. --DAVID DOUGHERTY, GI cannot any longer adhere to the faith which has prompted such extraordinary destruction. He has yet within his failing grasp the chance of saving Lear and Cordelia from his own judgment, but he must recant his alleigiance to this Nature, his very self, which has borne him beyond success to devastation. He speaks these words: "Some good 1. mean to do, /Despite of mine own nature" (V,iii,291-292). If Edmund has served Nature unsullied by human convention and institution, if this is a picture of the 'natural man' devoid of any imperative save assertion of hls own visceral might and worth, then unclad human nature is macabre. We would seem to be courting our own demise. Though my nature be the same as Edmund's, I cannot serve it as a god, lest I too carry with me a torch of destruction. Though I am not slave to convention and custom, I must posit my loyalty and devotion outside of myself, in order to function in a world filled with more souls than just my ,own. In the bastard are the elements at work in all men, in me-but his god cannot be my god. --MICHAEL STEVENS GI �wondering how the "rag" day, in the fourth year of accumulat.ed dust in the first seminar, as experienced On refuting place. Pointing out an St. John's students, and the analogy and analogy's limitations in this that's just a coy way of other thoughts way doesn't mean that the putting it, right? analogy's original use was You betcha. about seminar My seminar, and other nonsensical, just imperfect. Sometimes a better classes, still engages in all Recently, during my analogy can be arrived at. of these practices. We inseminar on The Bear, by This can help a discussion. terrupt. We inject humor at Faulkner, I made an anal- Sometimes, frequently due inappropriate times. We ogy between part of the to slavish devotion to fore- batter. We use illogical story and events in the ing a one-to-one corre- arguments. Et cetera .. Bible. Eventually some- spondence between the Does this mean I think one brought up another two terms, an analogy can we've learned nothing from detail that seemed not to be misleading and harm a seminar over four years? Not on your lives. agree with my suggestion. discussion. And sometimes For one thing, individuI attempted to work this in, an analogy is simply wrong did not succeed, and even- (although it's rare that it's als among us have learned tually ended up saying that completely worthless) and many things. Some have the two stories were analo- needs to be replaced or learned to tone down their gous, not identical. forgotten immediately. But arrogance (i.e. stop acting Is that situation fa mil- in none of these cases as it the correctness of their iar? It seems that if some- except the dead-wrong arguments should be obvione analogizes as part of analogy does refuting the ous to even a fool). Some their argument a common analogy and assuming have gained self-confiway of destroying it is to thereby to have destroyed dence. Some have learned find some way the analog the entire argument count to inject humor only at the appropriate times. There does not match the original as logical procedure. We did this trequently are even those who have and claim that du€do the analogy's imperfection it my freshman year, along learned to stop interruptmust be tossed aside like with many other unsavory ing. But it seems most of us an old dustrag and fre- discussion practices we who had problems in the quently the line of thought would (supposedly) not : first place still have them, inherent in the analogy dream of using today. This to some extent. along with it. But if an ana- includes interruptions, batDid St. John's promlog matches its source in tering a seminar-mate into ise to cure all of my bad every detail there is no submission instead of dis- conversation habits? To longer an analogy because cussing his/her ideas and change me into a model of the analog is itself the rationally trying to change witty urbanity able to hold source. And finding where his/her mind, irrelevant conversations with all and the analogy breaks down humor, enough sophistry sundry and leave 'em gasp(as it must) need not re- and logical fallacies to give ing at the end of the talk? Is 1 move the effectiveness of Socrates a conniption fit, 1 that even the point of semithe rest of the analogy. For and so on. nar? No, it did not, and no, example, saying that an Wait a minute - sup- it is not. They promised me 1 analogy must be tossed 11posed/y not dream of us-1 "rationaldiscussionson the aside like an old dustrag \j ing today? That means we Great Books," and for the seems fine, until you start Ii actually do use these to- most part I have to say I've gotten reasonably rational discussions. But no matter Pater 'J{pster how much philosophical, 'Father, did you rage literary and historical insight And storm across hell-earth I have from these classes, and hear roar of cannon !thought I was supposed to And witness lightning-death Flash, hot and white, get something more. I guess I was expect- Across a ripped and gaping sky?' ing more when I got here 'Did you rage, Father, than I should have. I ex- And run through fire pected to improve my con- And dance around death versational skills im- And march tall and triumphant mensely, and I haven't. I Past trench-grave expected to hear pearls of Vaulting victory, as a rippling banner, wisdom by the barrel, and I Echoing to the heavens?' haven't gotten those, either. Reasonably rational conversations, yes, but the oysters have been few and far between. I've resigned myself to this, and I pretty much like what I've gotten. There is one more benefit. I mentioned above that we are still interrupt- 'Father, why do you weep? I'll listen, I will, Sir! Please, tell me, tell -me of the War.' 'Son! Oh, my son! Never talk to me of War! Death-rot War! Hate-War! Let it die, if only for an hour's peace!' ing, making irrelevant jokes Then thought the boy, 'How can a brave man tremble and irrational arguments, so?' etc. Well, when this hap- Then thought the man, 'God, may he always be pened freshman year, as I. ignorant of War.' recall, tempers frayed, --MICHAEL STEVENS, GI nerves wore thin, and people walked out of semi-; their error. as part of the · ogy. What I expected to nar obviously angry. We conversation instead of ·learn at St. John's is like a don't do this any more. I' getting steamed and storm- cornucopia full of a suspect we've learned to ing out of seminar when it never-ending supply of let such matters slide so ends. In short: we've apples, and other kinds of we can get on with the rele- learned to tolerate others' fruit, all perfect of course. vant parts of the -seminar, conversational bad habits. What I got was a large as classes are for the most And that's not so bad basket of citrus fruit - the part a good deal more re- an attitude to pick up. Even supply ends eventually, and laxed and easygoing than if my own conversational the fruits are occasionally they were freshman year. skills have not improved bruised and frequently sour The discussions are still as dramatically, people have ·once bitten into. But disserious as they ever were. learned to deal with them tinctly edible. But when someone inter- - and I with theirs. Who In other words, and in rupts, or cracks an irrele- said we didn't learn skills i the best possible sense: vant joke, or makes an ii- useful in the real world here '. Apples and oranges. logical argument, we either at St. John's? --ROBBY NEASE '92 let it go or calmly point out' Let me make an anal- �-----------------------------------------~~ 6 -------·------·-··-- Por'Ioda[a 9-{ennosura mas sabre toda herNo os m':lravilleis de mosura, aquesto, y lo que es y sera y fue, nunca yo me perdere, que el gusto se quede tal, gusta de alla un no se sino por un no se que porque es la causa del que que se alcanza por mal que se halla por ventura. ventura. ajena de todo el resto: y asi, toda criatura Sabor de bien que es Mas emplea su cuidado enajenda se ve, quien se quiere aventajar finito, y gusta de un no se que en lo que esta por ganar lo mas que puede llegar que se halla por ventura. que en lo que tiene ganado: es cansar el apetito y estragar el paladar; Que estando la voluntad y asi, pare mas altura, y asi, por toda dulzura de Divinidad tocada, yo siempre me inclinare nunca yo me perdere, no puede quedar pagada sobre todo a un no se sino por un no se que sino con Divinidad: que mas, por ser tal su que se halla por ventura. que se halla par ventura. 7 -------------··--·- --- hermosura El coraz6n gereroso que solo se ve par fe, Por lo que por el sentido nunca cura de parar gustala en un no se que puede aca comprehen- donde se puede pasar, que se halla por ventura. derse y todo lo que entenderse, sino en mas dificultoso; nada le causa hartur_a, Pues, de tal enamorado, aunque sea muy subido, y sube tanto su fe, decidme si habreis dolor, ni por gracia y hermosura que gusta de un no se pues que no tiene sabor yo nunca me perdere, que entre todo lo criado: s1no por un nose que que se halla por ventura. solo, sin forma y figura. que se halla por ventura.- sin hallar arrimo y pie. Fin. El que de amor adolesce, gustando alla un no se del divino ser tocado, que tiene el gusto tan trocado, que se halla por ventura. que a los gustos de sf allesce; No penseis que el coma el que con calen- interior, tura que es de mucha mas fastidia el manjar que ve, valia, y apetece un no se que halla gozo y alegria que se halla por ventura. en lo que aca da sabor: --St. John of the Cross which is found by venture. or will be, there it takes pleasure in I Do not be surprised by know not what this which is found by that his taste remains venture. Not for all beauty such, will I ever be lost for the cause of the But whoever wishes to but for I know not what illness advance which is attained by is alien to all the rest; should use concern venture. thus, every creature on what is still to gain sees itself alienated not on what he has won; The good taste of what is and takes pleasure in I and thus, for greater finite, know not what height though able to sate, which is found by venture. I will always push on is enough to weay the beyond everything to I appetite The will. upon know not what and destroy the palate; being touched by the which is found by thus for no sweetness divine, venture. · will I ever be lost cannot be left satisfied but for I know not what except with divinity: What may be understood which is found by here by the senses, its beauty .is such venture. that only through faith is it and all that is to be seen, learned, The generous heart never and is pleased in I know though it may be very bothers to stop not what, fine, where it can undergo which is found by venture. not for all this grace and more, beauty but continues where it is Tell me if you will agonize will I ever be lost hard; for such a lover but for I know not what nothing satisfies it, which is found by who finds no flavor in all and its faith rises so high creation: venture. -Finis that it takes pleasure in I Alone, without form or know not what figure which is found by without finding support or venture. footing tasting there I know not He who by love is what afflicted, which is found by venture. by the divine touched, has his taste so changed Do not think that what's that to all taste he is inside you. dead; which is worth much as one in fever more, throws out the food he finds joy and happiness sees, in what here has flavor: and craves I know not --LALENA PARKHURST but higher than all beauty, what '92 higher than what is, was, 'for JI{[ 'Beauty �9 Despite the Storm I am walking again and in the gathering darkness of the upcoming storm, keep stumbling upon thoughts of her, thoughts which seem to stand out luminescent in the streaming grey consciousness flow. I am going to her art show. As it begins to rain, I enter the small, crowded gallery and spot her sur- rounded with art people. She glances around, and her gaze trips over me and picks itself up in a steady look of recognition. I feel the warm commonnessu n de rs t anding of our sharedness I anned to sudden brilliance. We smile simultaneously and then return each to our more immediate conversations. She with art people. I with my thoughts. Even then as I turn my eyes to the blonde wood floor (the almost blonde of her hair), I feel the brilliance dimmed and see her warm devotion as an outsider might looking into the relationship. The vision of her devotion is shocking to me. I see her belief in us as a miracle and wonder, "What have I done?" My spine feels those prickles, those itching of my conscience clearing its throat. That sound, familiar to me, seems a preparation of further rumblings to come. I avert my attention from the possibility by gazing at the painting before me. The woman's skin seems smoothly familiar to me. like something I'd grown accustomed to realization. Lying upon an Insomnia An imminence of wide-eyed innocence Suspended in Keats' image of a Grecian Urn Attic shape encasing me eternally Under happy boughs of immortal olive we lie "Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal ... " The unheard melodies of sweet sleep For much sweeter is the sound of our wide eyes. old couch, she is resting 1 her head upon her hands ; upon its arm. The front of : her dress she has ripped open, exposing her shoulders and breasts, and she is gazing out into herself with a face which has finished crying and is now weary and drained. I can feel her musing over whether she will pull the dress around her or just slide out of it. But for a while, she remains still, resting her gaze out in · there, just past my left shoulder. I look out that way and ' see the front panes rivuleted with running rain : drops. Through the blur 1 and the people passing outside, the sky shifts• lighter despite the storm. I realize that my conscience has no answer, and notice my reflection smiling faintly. And then, in surprise, I smile~ again at the irregular sight of a face in love, and, and' wondering about miracles . and the impossible, I think, "What have I done?" 1 "Forever panting, forever young, All breathing human passion far above, That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed, A burning forehead, and a parching tongue." We pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone But the sweet beauty of the panting in our ears. Beauty is truth, marble man, is that all you do not know? The still unravished bride of quietness screams with beauty Professing truth in perpetual spring Unshed leaves of immortal olive. proud laurel Sheltering shade till the urn shatters And the imminence is eased And dreams bang against my eyelids And the lovers kiss, "She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss ... " --KARLA MANZUR '95 On Considering.~Foreign Poetry On my way to Hell I found the way descending very steep; and entering upon the circle took this burden and laughed at your vain putrid jokes: She wasn't there. like I should have found her-whiting my knuckles instead on the railing. And, traveling with Dante I found Satan and kicked him between th legs-and took the escalator to the lobby walking across the marble floor to the steal and glass exit door to the street where I rented a car. --DAVID DOUGHERTY, GI. --ROBERT CRAIG ·g �10 s 10 The Complaint of Chaucer unto His Purse An interlinear translation To yow, my purse, and to noon other wight To you, my purse, and to no other person Complayne I, for ye be my lady dere. I complain, for you are my dear lady. I am so sory now that ye been lyght; I am so sorry now that your are light; For certes but if ye make me hevy ch ere, For surely, if you don't look gravely on me, Me were as leef be layd upon my bere; I might as well be laid to my grave For which unto your mercy thus I crye, For which unto your mercy thus I cry, Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye. Be heavy again, or else I must die. Now voucheth sauf this day or hyt be nyght Now vouch safe this day, or it be night, That I of you the blisful soun may here That I may hear your bliss{ul sound Or see your colour like the sonne bryght Or see your color, like the bright sun That of yelownesse hadde never pere. That [color] yellow never had a like. Ye be my lyf, ye be myn he rt es st ere You are my life, the steering wheel of my heart. Quene of comfort and of good companye, Queen of comfort and of good company, 11 Beth hevy ageyn, or elles moot I dye. Be heavy again. or else I must die. :Fit tfie si~-an.£-two- tli irds Now purse that ben to me my lyves lyght 15 Now purse, that has been the light of my life And saveour as doun in this world here, And savior as down in this world here, Out of this toune help me thurgh your myght, Out of this town help me with your might, Syn that ye wole not ben my tresorere; Since you will not be my treasurer: For I am shave as nye as any frere. For I am shaved as close as any friar. But yet I pray unto your curtesye, 20 But yet I pray unto your courtesy. Beth hevy agen, or elles moot I dye. Be heavy again. or else I must die. They thought it with thimbles, they thought it with care; They perused it with forks, and hope; They treated its life as a railway share; They learned it as smiles, and soap. Lenvoy de Chaucer 0 conquerour of Brutes Albyon, 0 Conqueror of rag-clad students Which that by lyne and free eleccion Which by appointment from powers unknown Been verray kyng, this song to yow I sende, Are queen of financial aid, this song I send you And ye, that mowen all oure harmes amende, 25 To you. who mow down our chances to have savings accounts, Have mynd upon my supplicacion. Have mercy upon my supplication! Notes 1 wight--Chaucer here exemplifies the Northern European ethnocentricity of his time by assuming that all who could read his poem were white. St. John's College, in Annapolis, Maryland, perpetuates this bias by including only dead white males and women named "George" in its program. 4 hevy--A play on the range of meanings for hevy: heavy. sad, pregnant, etc; Chaucer asks his purse to give birth to money for him. (cf Gross, p. 636.) 5 layed uoon my bere--An archaic custom whereby insolvent peasants were dunked by the town magistrates in a vat of beer, approx. three feet in diameter and six feet in depth. (cf Dungey, p. 1005) 6 For which unto your mercy thus I crye; an obvious reference to God. 7 Beth--Chaucer's pet name for his wife, Phillipa le Picard. She was pregnant again, thus explaining the poet's need for money. The Broker, he mumbled, and blissfully tumbled To the fact of his incomprehension; Outgrabely he thought that the beast that they sought Was a beast not worth all the attention. He thought as a warrior, he thought as a boat, But he could not for his life understand: All the pieces around him he deigned not to note. For a snark was just not something grand! He looked at the sevens, he looked at the threes, He looked at the ruins and figments: But the snark was no threes, no a's, b's or z's, nor motions, nor symbols, nor pigments. The way to the snark was uncolored and dark, Thought the Broker, while blessrng his .soles; If he had but known what the Bellman disowned -That none of the B's knew their goals! --ROBBY NEASE '92 13 Quene of comfort and Of good companye Modesty preventscommentary upon this line, as it is clearly not addressed to Phillipa. 16 saveour-- His need for money has turned the poet's head from God, as is shown both by his use of the appelation Saveour for his purse, and by the poet's comparison in line 19 of his own lack of money to a friar's sacrifice of luxuries sudiasnalr-.------'-Tege and university students 24 verray kyng-- the king is to get much needed finana fairy: cf quene. line 13. cial aid. This reference confutes modern scholar's· opinion that the envoy is addressed to Henry IV. It is clearly addressed to the Fairy King, Edward II, though Chaucer was not writing until the reign of Edward Ill. 24 this song to yow I sendea reference to the song and ·-NATHAN HUMPHREY '94 dance necessary for col- & VANESSA STRATTON '93 �12-~- Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen Okay, folks, this is it: one year of editing, four issues packed with reasonably good material (allow me my rose-colored glasses, I'm only gonna be here another week) and it comes down to one back page's worth of thanks and goodbyes. So, what do I say about a staff I have worked with closely and a co-editor who, in the best estimation of Johnny pundits, should have strangled me six months ago? This: It's been great working with all of them. It was expected by many that Dianne J. Cowan and I would kill each other as co-editors. We haven't. Dianne ran the meetings, I handled the layout, we communicated on issues that transcended this division and everything worked out fine. Compared to the way a meeting ran in the past (like a D.C. meeting with eleven items on the agenda), Dianne's competence and cool-headedness has saved all of us from a year of tension and churning stomachs. MalikGillaniandDavid Dougherty are graduating and Sarah Stanley is head- ing off to the wonderlul world of Fe, so obviously they will not be returning. (The fate of the rest of our Graduate staff, Dawn Beltz, Jim Berretini and Anton Yoe, remains a mystery). Thanks are due all of these peopleforthegreat amount of effort they have put into making The Collegian as good as it has been this year. Shelly Young, Kathy Stolzenbach, and Janice Thompson will be returning next year as staff members. Former staff members Kelly Rock and Molly Hinshaw are also returning, Kelly from St. John's West and Molly from a year in Austria. Finally, our lone sophomore, Nathan J. Humphrey, is being promoted to the position held this year by Vanessa Stratton: i.e., that of unofficial assistant ed1tor. Having such a large number of experienced staff will certainly make the editing job easier for next year's co-editors: Vanessa Stratton and Deirdre Crosse. Of all current staff members, Vanessa has been here the longest. She was considered to be a future editor as far back as the middle of her sopt10more year Vanessa 1s eminently sensible; and that is the highest compliment I could give to anyone. As for Deirdre, she joined the staff at the end of last year and has since been a model of maturity and sanity in the midst of what even now can occasionally become semi-chaotic. Dianne and I wish you ; both the best of luck. Finally, special thanks are due the following people: Amanda Klein and David 0. Clement, Gadfly editors, tor the regular use of their light board and their willingness to open up the Gadfly office at odd hours; Chris Colby, Print Shop supervisor, for the ordinary effort of printing The Co//egian andcertain.extraordinary efforts we greatly appreciate: Kevin Dungey, our advisor, who gave us much helpful advice and was ready to do whatever he could to assist us further; and last, but assuredly not least, Eva T.H. Brann, for her sage advice in helping us through some rough times and for paying for our Copicards. It's been a wonderful year, folks. No kidding. To Dianne: Congratulations, my friend, we did it! Now go get a beer. --ROBBY NEASE '92 The publishing policy of The Collegian is to treat all writers or artists and the pieces they submit with respect. Pieces are judged on the basis of readability and interest to the College Community. All submissions must be typed. No revision will be adopted without the consent of the writer. Please address correspondence and criticism to Box 391 Campus Mail. � 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 Collegian Description An account of the resource The Collegian began as a student newspaper; became a college community literary publication in 1952 and continued until 1969; became a student newspaper again in 1969; discontinued publication from 1980 until 1989 when it again became a student literary publication.<br /><br />Click on <a title="The Collegian" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=26">Items in The Collegian Collection</a> to view and sort all items in the collection. 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 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 The Collegian 8 May 1992 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1992-05-08 Title A name given to the resource The Collegian, May 08, 1992 Description An account of the resource Vol. III, Issue 4 of The Collegian. Published on May 8, 1992. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Cowan, Dianne J. (Editor) Nease, Robby (Editor) 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 Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/a33f2b17090f4eaf6207ee281d599aa4.pdf 5df6d4f4b8d7a9e0da5a03fcb17bb725 PDF Text Text �rnJru1J~trru1J . u~~ V@b(VJ~~ @lr . ~&~~¥ J@~OO~ &~~~~@IL~~ EDITOR-IN-CHIEF- ~ Ce-t- ~u~ �~t. 1Joqn\1 Jorttt Last ni g ht I wa s fe e lin g rest less . \ s l sa t in m y roo m a ll a lo n e, Till l c ha n ced to o- la n ce fro m my w in clm\· f\ t th Se \·ern, where t h e pa le m oo n sh o ne . l) id yo u ncr ha\·e a drea r fee lin g In ·the ni g ht wh e n th e air was so st ill l'h at yo u co uld h ea r y o u r o wn hea rt beat in g 'J' o th e time o f th e whip-p oor- w ill ? Di d y o u c \·e r ri se in the m oo ns hin e \\ ' it h a fee lin g akin to a fri g ht. \nd , dress in g quietly but qui ckl y , Steal o u t in th e dead of th e nigh t? Thi s I d id with min g led se nsa ti o ns . And , g rasp in g my hat in my h a n d, I sal lied o ut o ve r th e ca mpu s .\ s if exp lo rin g an u nkn own la n e!. I ca n no t yet t ell w hat po se · cl m e llut t he o ld a nd fa mili a r ha lls L ooked cl o wn w it h a fr iend lie r asp ect .-\ s if a nswe rin g fo n d m ~ m o r y ' s ca ll ;;. :'l [cDow ell, old }fumphreys a nd Pinkn ey Seem ed a rrayed in a plencl o r so ~n e­ \\' ith cl ew as a cloak fo r their sec rets T ouched off by th e sil v' ry moonshin e, '!'h at my hea rt we n t o u t qui ck ly to greet the m !\ nd p ra ise th e m f r ho lding so s tro ng • in st ages o f wind a n d of weath er 'Ga \\ ' hich have t ri ed to o 'e rco m e t h e m so lo ng. 1 w ire! so rt o f mystery enthra lled me \ A l gazed o n th ose se nti ne I · r yore. \\ ' ho stood ye t in t ha t aw fu l s il en ce D espit e th e ir vast t reas ur es of lo re. CONTENTS 205 35-39 AT HL ETI C D E PA RT M ENT ' ... . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . 142- 171 BoA RD oF VI SITO Rs AND G ovERNoRs . . . . . .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 CARTOONS .... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ' . . . . . ' . . . . . .. ' .. . I 72- 177 C L ASS AN D HISTO RY, 19 16 .. ' ' . ' . . .. ' . . . . ' ........ ' '40-82 C L ASS AN D HISTORY, 19 17 ... .. . ............. . · . .. 83- 108 . C L ASS AND HISTORY, 19 18 ...... . ....... . . ... . .. .. I 09- 1 15 CoLLEG IAN B oA RD . . . . . . . . . . • . .. . . . . . . . . .• . . . . . . . . . . 206 D EBATI NG TEA M . . ' .. . . . . . . . ' . . . . . . • . . . • . . . • ' ... 179- 181 ED ITO RI AL B oARD .. .. .. . .. . . . . . . . . . . . .. . .. . . .. . . . . I 0- 1 I FA C ULTY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ... . . .. 13-22 FRATERN IT I ES . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • . . . . .. . . . .. . 199-20 I FRES HMAN C LASS . . . . . . . . . . . . ·• .. . . . • . . . . . . . . . . .. 1 I 6- 12 1 HisToRY ST. J oHN's CoL L EGE .. . . . . ..• . . .. . . . . . .. . .. 3 1-33 H o P Co MMI TTEE . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . .. .. .. . . . . 186- 187 MILITARY D EPARTMENT . . . . . . . . .. . .. . .. . . . . . . . . . . 124- 14 1 Musi CA L ORGA N I ZAT ION .. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . . 189- 192 So c i ETI ES .. . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . .. . . • . . . • . . . 203-205 STUDENT CouNC I L .. . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . • . . . . . . . . . . .. 184- 185 Sus-F RES HM AN C L ASS . . . .. . .. .. . .. .. . . . : . . . .. . . . .. .. 122 Y. M . C. A .......... . ....... .. .... ... . . . . . . ... 182 - 18 -, A D VERT ISE M ENTS . .. . . .. . . ... . . . .• .. . . . . . . . . . . • . . . . . A L U M N I . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . .... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (Con tinu ed on page 30) •¥dl'' •;,j)<p~ 2 3 �DEDICATION In partial recognization of the esteem and admiration in which he is universally held, and as a slight token of our love, we, the class of nineteen hundred and seventeen, dedicate this, the nineteenth volume of the Rat-Tat to our distinguished Alumnus, Emerson C . Harrington, Governor of Maryland. 4 ��<&nurrunr: i.Emrr.anu "'Q'2;, - or. f!1arrtugtnu ~ 0 .\. E:\1 Ek ON C. H RRI NGT O N , th e p rese nt Gove rn o r of vu ~~ tf:S':~ rr===~==~=il l I '~J I IJ .i\I a ry la nd , wa s bo rn Ma rch 26t h, 1864, at Madi on , D o rc hes te r county, :\Ja ry la nd . H is pa re nts were J ohn E. and E li za beth (T homp so n ) Ha rrin gto n. I-Iis fa th e r wa s in earl y li fe a sea cap ta in , beco min g la te r a m e rc ha nt a nd fa rm er , a nd wa s p r mi n e nt in t h e bus in ess a n d reli g ious li fe of hi s sect ion. l\lr. Ha rrington was rea red on the farm . a nd un til he wa 16 years of age atte nd ed th e p u b li c ·choo l a t :\J ad ison, go ing th e n a ll ege . A nnapo li s. l-Ie co m pleted th e fiv e yea rs' to St . Jo hn· course in four years, g rad u a tin g w ith t he degree of A. D. in 1884, a nd ta kin g econd ho n o rs in hi cla s . Th e :.\1. A. d egr ee wa co nfe rred on him in 1886. He s h owed a d ec id ed fo n dn ess fo r o u td oo r gam es, a nd ca ug ht for fo ur yea r o n t h e S t. J o hn ' ba seba ll team. U p o n g rad ua ti on , in 1884, :\Jr. I-Iar rin g to n wa s appo in ted t uto r in th P repa rat ry Depa rtment of S t. J ohn" s a nd ta u rr ht io r two y ea r , th e las t h a lf of th e s co nd year fi llin g th e p lace in th e C li ege Depa rtm ent of Profe sso r 1-:lagn er , w ho wa ill. At the cl ose of t h e seco nd yea r :\Jr. Harrin g to n wa . elec ted Ass is ta nt I rofesso r of Latin a nd :\1 th e m at ics fa at St. J o hn· s. H e accepted th e po iti o n. w h e n D r. \ i\T illi am I-:T. Hopk in s . th e Act in g P rin cipal o f th e Co ll ege. left to accept the P re id ency of th e \ i\foman's Co ll eo·e. Ha lt im ore, beco m in g Prin cipa l of Cam b ri dge Academy. Ca m bri dge. l-l e h eld th e latter pos iti on fo r t hree yea rs. A t thi s ti m e th e Acade my and Fe m a le Se min a ry we re m erged to fo rm Ca mbrid ge Tiigh Schoo l, a n d ::\Jr. Ha rrin gto n wa s elec ted P rin cipa l. He held t h e pos iti on fo r nin e yea rs . bein g re-e lec ted e \·er y yea r by t h e un an im ou. \"O te of th e tw enty-fo ur Tru s tees. H e _tudied law whil e teachin g a nd was adm itted to th e Bar. ln 189 h e res ig n ed a P rin cipa l to devote hi s entire en e ro·ies to th e lega l p ro fess io n. ln 1900 he was elected Sta t ' Atto rn ey a nd se r ved until 1903, when he was defeated fo r re-e lec ti on. l-:le was a \·igo rous prosecut r o f a ll offen ces, especia lly \·iolations of th e li quor and oy ste r laws, a nd thi - fa ct, togeth e r w ith di\·is io n in hi s pa rty , broug ht ab ou t hi defea t. ::\Jr. J-1 a rrin rr ton rank s hi g h a s a lawyer, hi clien te le bein g m a n y o f th e m st p romin ent citi ze ns of th e co un ty and h av in g a w ide ra nge. ]-f e wa appo in t ed In s ura n ce Commi ss io ner in N ovem be r, 1910. a nd wa: elected C mptro ll er in 19 11 by a m a jo rity o f ab ut 7,800 \·o tes. :\[r. Harrin g ton wa · re-e lec ted Co m pt ro ll e r of. th e Tr eas ury in 19 13. fo r a te rm of tw years. :\ fr . "!-:!a rrin gto n marri ed :\Ji ss e rtrud e. da ug ht er o f :\Jr. a n d :\Jrs. \\ ' il liam T . J ohn on. They haye three children- two ons a nd a daughte r . O n Nove mb e r 2. 19 15, he wa elec ted G ve rn or o f Mary land for a te rm of fo ur yea r fro m th e s co nd \\' edn es day in Ja nu a ry, 1916. 6 )JISCELLANEOt;S SCENES ���~nrrmutlt. rfil O RRO VV l NG from Sh ak espea re and sli ghtl y ~ r emodeling we may say that a College is a vast stage whereo n we play our part a nd mak e our ex it. T o th e Class o f N in eteen Hundred a nd Seventeen, it is act ll I. scene IL ; th e acti on in th a t sce ne bein gth e publi cati on o f th e l{AT-T AT. It would be prepost erous to as. ume th a t our 1irst ·e ff ort in th e li t erary wo rl d is fa ultl ess o r to sec retl y beli eve that we will please eve ryo ne. Ne ith e r o f th ese can we hope to a ttain. H o weve r , if we succeed in brin ging be fo re th e mind' s eyes o f some old A lumnu s glimp ses o f th e golden sce nes enacted he re, o r if we can in so me way emba lm th e memo ri es of prese nt-day ac ti viti es a t old St . J ohn ' , we sha ll not ha1·e completely fa il ed. Assuring yo u that we ha 1 tri ed to depict Coll ege li fe as we see it and ·e hoping th a t yo ur c riti cisms may be o f a con st ru cti ve na ture, we invite yo u to proceed . 9 �.. 1Rat-wat '1 fi" f(lttortal Iioar!l Assista n t Ed itnr- in - CIIi t'f E di to r·- i n-C hi e f :-IAJ~ I ON R. H. A. Cox J. \\.ILLJA;\l H. PRICE C. 'vV. NonLE c. J ARMAK .~\ t hl etic .\lum ni E ditor N. 1\IADDOX .\hlna,~:t • r· s Bu !-dnes'i GEORC I:: Dooc1·: \ VooowARD S. w. Efliton· N. W r, ,\\. I~R FREENY ·Tuwn E di toL· R. \\' . ;_[I CUR II urno•·ou s E ditors \i\1 AVI' f-:R R. CARLTo K BuRGEss Ct'R F:'ll.\ X Cah~ ruh:u· 'vVJCLl AM J on N C. Fr~LL J osEPH \ A/. 1I cCO~IA } OliN L it e r ~u· .r }-T. J. l\I. E ditors !~I. HARRI SON TOR M Ed itor· s L. D. STA!\17 0RD T . SP l CKK AU. E . 0. V ox SorwFRo T:-:0~ Photol-{rn)lb e rs Campu s E ditor IRA RAJ..l'H \\' . CRt ' :'ll B. TALTON J oHN 11 SoMERVILLE �inarb of lliinttnr.a anb ~nurrnnr.a Pt·t>~i d e n t ( l' nd ~ t· t- h t~ C hart e r ~ h·t · tt • (l n nnuall~· ) His Excellency, Emerson C. Harr in gton, '!'h e C \·e rn o r o f :-Iaryland , Annapolis, Md ., 1916. J, re!!li d e n t Hon. Robert Moss, An na po li s, :-Jd. ~t• c: r e tu r ,v L. Dorsey Gassaway, Esq., Annapo li , l\Jcl .. 1 91. Ex-Otfh·io Hon. Peter D. Campbell, I re. icl e n t of th e Se nate , Da ltim re, ::\lei. Hon. Philip D. Laird, Spea ker o f I- use of De lega te . T Hon. A. Hunter Boyd, Chi f Ju dge ou rt of ppea ls, C um berl a nd . ::\[d. Hon . Henry Stockbridg e, Jr., Jud ge Court of Ap pea ls, Towso n . ::\ 1cl. Hon. John P. Briscoe, Ju dge Co urt o f pp ea ls, Prin e<' F rederi ck , ::\l ei. Hon. John R. Patterson, Ju dge C urt of ..-\.pp ea ls, Cam br id ge. ::\Jd. Hon. Wm. H. Thomas, Jud ge _ourt of A I p ea ls, E lk ton. ::\Jcl. Hon. Hammond Urner, Jr., Jud ge Co ur t o f :\ppea ls, F red er ick, ::\rd . Georg e Wells, M. D., A nn apo li , l\Id. , 1882. Philemon H. Tuck, B a ltim o re. ::\l ei. , 188.1. L. Dorsey Gassaway, .\nn a po lis, ::\Icl .. 189 1. Hon. John G. Rogers, E lli cot t C ity , Mel., 1896. James M . Monroe, A nnapo lis, ::\Jcl .. 189(i. Hon. Robert Moss, .-\nn apo li , ::\~· cl. , 189/. Frank H . Stockett, A nn apo li s, 1-Jd., 1897. James A. Fechtig, New York City , 1899. Charles G. Feldmeyer, A nn apo li s , ::\I 1., 1 99. Nickolas H. Gr een, A nnapo lis, ::\lcl .. 190 1. Harry J. Hopkins, A nn ap li , l\'fcl ., 1902. Stevenson A . Williams, 11 elair, ::\1d .. 1904. Louis T . Clarke, E lli co tt City, ::\Id .. 1905. Nevett Steele, .\nn apo li s, :-rd .. 1907. John L . Chew, A nn apo li , :-rd .. 1908. William Wo odward, New Yo rk ity . 1910. Burner R. Anderson, lla lt im o r , ::\Icl .. 1910. Hon. ]as. R. B rashears, A nn apo li , l\Icl. , 1912. Daniel R. Ran dall, Annapo li s . ::\Icl., 1913. Hon. Walter I. Dawkins, 11alt im o re . ::\Icl., ] ( 14. ]. A. Nydegger, 191-J.. 12 IIJII IIlii �~ £{~~ OdD.-=~ R. Tl-1 0 :\f.\..S FELL. th e twelfth p res ide nt of St. J uhn',; Co ll ege, ""))~~~10 ~~ "" ~ wa s bo rn in Li1·e rpoo l. E ng la nd, on Jul y Li, 185 1. \Vh en he was s ix years o ld h e was enro ll ed 111 t h e Roya l ln s tituti c~~~ - Sc hoo l at Liv erp oo l, a nd h er e st u d ied fo r nin e / ~ years- 18.JI-18GG. j 1/ In th e latter part of 1806 h e went to Lond o n a nd wa s m atr icu lated at K in g-s Co ll ege. F our years late r h e ente red t he Uni ve rs ity of L ndo n , a nd r emain ed h e re t hree yea rs. H e was a lso a s tudent a t the l ' niv e rs ity o f :\Juni ch fo r o ne yea r. ~ ~ $ ~ ) '(~$ D r. Fell began hi s act iYe w rk in life in fiduciary ca pac ity in E ng la n d, se n ·in g under t he lli s hop o f L o nd on as lay reade r fr om 1876 to 1 80. For two ye ars th e reafte r he tra1·eled throug-h ~ n lia, C hin a . F orm osa a nd Cey lon. In 1882 he ca m e to . m er~(!:f ica, and two yea rs la te r h e w as elec ted Profes or of A ncie nt La ng uag-es at 0l ew \ \'inc! ' Or Co ll ege , :\ ew \!\'i n cisor. :\lei. D r. Fe ll, in 1 88 ~ , beca me Pres itle nt of St. J ohn ' Coll ege a nd has held that posit i n eve r Sin ce. W f:l J ] T hi s year . 18 ), m arks t h e beginnin g of a n ew era fo r our in s t it u tio n. Dr. Fe ll' s unt iring en e rg ies soo n asse rted the m se lves a nd th e m ortgage of $30,000.00 was paid off. 1- e a lso s ucceeded in ra is ino· m o n ey to b uil d three l of th e finest bui lclino·s o n the campu , na m ely: \\ 'ooclwa rd Ha ll. Randall Hall a nd th e ~ew Gy mn as ium. The numb e r of st ude n ts has been in c reased . and as a w ho le th e Co ll eg-e ha b e n st r engt h en ed both in el i ciplin e a n d 1n t he c harac te r of t h e wo rk clone. Dr. I• ell is a n ac tive m emb e r of the fo ll o wi ng o rganizatio ns : Th e m er ica n l'h il o log-ical Associat io n, Th e American Academ y of Po lit'i ca l Scien ces, Th e Natio n a l Ed uca t io na l Assoc ia ti on . The Phi Sig m a Kappa F ra te rnity, Th e L;n il'(~ r s i ty Elect of Ba ltim ore a nd Th e C lios phi c ~oc i ety of l'rin ce to n L' ni ,·e rs ity. nn. T.II0 ,\1. \ S }'.ELl.. Pll . II ., LL . ll . The fo ll ow in g- ho no ra ry d eg rees ha1·e b ee n co nfe rred up o n him: Docto r of Law, by J-Ta m pcle n- idn ey Co ll ege, of V irg ini.a, in 1 89: Docto r of Phi losoph y, by St. J o hn' s C ll eo·e, An napo lis. :\fcl., in 1907 : D oc to r of C i1·il Laws, by t he Cn i1 r ity of the South. S u wa nee, T e nn .. in 1907, a nd Docto r of Law s, by ·e the C ni1•ersi ty of P itt sb urgh , 19 12. T he a ffili a ti o n o f S t. John 's wit h th e U ni ve r. ity of Mary land . naltim o re, is on e of Dr. Fe ll 's acco m1 li hm e n ts. S in ce this he ha s bee n promin e n tly co nnect ed in the U ni ve r s ity, and in J a nu a ry, 1913, h e was c h s n Provos t by t he Doa rcl of Rege nts to fill t h e p lace left 1·aca nt by th e deat h of Be rn a rd Carter. Thi s p os iti o n gave D r. Fe ll a w id e r fie ld to di s pl ay hi s talents , a nd a lrea dy a projec t is on foo t fo r a S tate L'n ive rs it y. Jf it i acco mpli s hed, it wi ll be mainly thro twh Dr. Fe ll' s a bili ty as a n o rga ni ze r. 15 �lloqn irorkway 1Ripprrr. 1\. :m .. 1\. :!I. Fro m 190 1- 1902 he taught in the B rookl yn Lat in chool. In the l::ttte r part of th e yea r 1902 he cam e to St . .Jo hn· . as In stru ctor in Latin . Two yea rs la ter he was promoted to Assistant P rofesso r in tha t bra nch o f studi es . From 1906- 1908 he was Superin ~ tendent of the t. J ohn 's P repara to ry Schoo l. In 1907 he became P rofe so r of Latin. whi ch pos ition he still ho ld s. In this wo rk Professo r Rippe re has clo ne most to promote the in te rest of St. J ohn 's. He has helped mu ch to ra ise the entrance req uirement s in L a tin. ours be ing hi gher than those o f our sister in st ituti on , a nd on th e same pl a ne as th la rge r coll eges and uni ,-e rsities. 1-1 e has been a g reat power in making th e co u rscs he re th o ro ugh and eFficient. Profe o r Rip pc re la te r compl eted a Post-Graduate Course in Latin and Greek. and received th e degree o f 1\Jaster of r\r ts on exa mi nati on from hi s · . \lma :\I ate r. In 1912 he was a ppointed Sec reta ry of th e Facu lty , and a yea r late r, JCJ13. he wa elected V ice- ! resid ent of St. J ohn' s Coll ege by the Boa rd of V isito rs and Go,·ernors, to suc ceed Dr. Cecil. who re ignecl. .J . B . R IP PEH.E , H . . \ ., ) 1. . \ . Professo r Rippere beli eves in fi rm and co nsistent eli cipline. with fairn ess to _all. ] le ha tak en pa rt in ma ny act ivitie utsicle o f hi s class- room. encouragmg \\:holesome spo rts and ath leti c both by p recept and exa mpl e. H e is a loyal fnend to a ll st ude nt s and t o t he .\lumni , a lso being ach ·iso r t th e Yo un g :.\fen's Christ ian As ciat ion a t St. Jo hn' s. ~ He is a member o f the foll o wino- o rgani zat ion s : Cia ica l , \ . sociat io n of the_ Atlantic S tat es. \\ 'c. leyan r\lumni ssociat io n. Wash in j!ton, D . C.; . \nn apohtan Club of A nnapoli s; the Chi P si a nd th e P hi l(appa Frate rniti es. 17 �SYDNEY S. HANDY, A. B., A. M. HENRY FRANCIS STURDY , B . A., M. A. l'rofesso r uf flislory c 111d /~o / it ira / Eco n0 /11 .\'. R OFE 'SO R ST "RDY is a n .-\nn apo li ta n and a r ad ua t e of S t . .J o hn' s. :\ft e r g r a du at in g fr o m S t . .J o hn 's in 1906 w ith th e· degre e B . .'\ .. h e ta ug ht at C he w's Pr e parato ry Sc h oo l. in l'\ nn apo li . .\II a r y la nd. fo r li 1 yea r . li e ·e se n ·ed as r\ ss ista nt 1--'r o fesso r in th e Dep a rtm e n t of M a th e m a ti c a t ' t. J o hn 's durin g th e aca d e mi c yca t· of 1911·12. In 19 13 h e e nt e r ed J o hn s H o pk in U ni ve r s it y a nd s pec ia li zed in 1-1 is to r y a nd Eco no mi cs . r ece i1·ing th e deg r ee :\ 1. . \ .. a nd has practi ca ll y co mpl e ted t h e work at thi s Uni1·e1· ity fo r a Ph. D . in I I isto ry a nd ·Po litica l Sc ie n ce . K e cam e to St. J o hn' in 1914 as h ead o f th e Departm e nt o f Hi s to ry a nd P o li ti ca l Econo m y. REGINALD H . RIDGELY , B. S. l' rofrss ur of Biolog3• and Geo logy. Secrl' tary of the faculty. R O F ESSOR R ID GE L Y. a :\l a ry land e r fr o m th e Ea te rn S ho r e. r ece i1 ·ed hi ea rl y edu cati o n in th e pub li c sc hoo ls of A nn apo li s. a nd wa g r ad uate d from S t. J o hn 's Co ll ege in 1895. H e ha s h eld th e fo ll ow in g po iti o n s: Profe·sso r of Sc ie nce, En g li s h a n d :\lathemati cs in S t. john' l"' r epara to ry Sc hoo l: Co mm a ndant an d Teac h e r of Scie n ce a t Mont c la in :\lilita ry .Aca d e m y, Mont c la in . "\"ew .J e r sey : ln tru cto r in P hys ics an d Math e m a ti cs at Thurs to n P r e parato r y Sc hoo l. P itt s burg h, I e nn sy h ·a ni a. and ln s tru c to r in I io logy a nd Math e mati cs at th e Pitt sbu r g h Hi gh Sc hoo l. H e i V ice-P r es id e nt of th e B io logica l Sec ti o n of th e Acade m y o f Sc ie nce a nd A r t. ·a rn egie ln s ti tut e. Pitts burg h . P e nn sy lvani a . Pro fe sso r Ri dge ly cam e t o S t. J hn' s Co ll ege in 19 12 fr o m th e State "\" o rm a l Sc hoo l at Fro s tbur g . M a ry la nd. wh e re he ha d bee n pr in cipal fo r four yea r s. In 19 14 h e was a ppo int ed Sec r e tary o f th e Fac ulty. 18 Profl'ssor of F.n g/ish . RO I ~ ESSOR J !.AN DY. a lth o ug h . bo rn tn Fa nm·il le. V a , is o f :\ la r y la ncl fam il y . H e r ece t,·ed ht s H tg h c h oo l t rattnng at the Poco m o k e C tty Hi g h Sc hoo l a nd th en e n t e r ed R ic h m on d o ll ege, V ir g inia. ft·o m w h ic h h e was g r a du a t ed with th e degre e of .-\. H.. in- I S92. li e ha s in ce co m p lete d pos t-graduate courses in E ng li s h at Pri nceto n. at Harva rd. at C lum bia . has ·taken Exp r es io n a t th e Em e r so n Co llege of O r at o ry. a nd ha s s tudi ed law fo r th r e·e umm e r s at o lumbi a U ni1·e r sity Law Sc h oo l. At Co lleg e Pro fess r H andy wa ,·e ry ac.t i1· in a t hl e ti cs. H e wa s P r es id e nt o f th e. A thl e ti c .Associa t io n and pla ye d o n bo.th foo tba ll and b ase~)a !l tea m s. B e fo r e co min g to S t. J o hn 's in 19 15. a s h ea d of t he· d e pa rtm e nt o f E ng li s h a nd O rat o r y . h e wa s H eadmaster of A ll eg ha ny A ca d e m y . V irg ini a: In s tru c to r in Eng li s h at !' eddi e In st itute. J\ew J e r sey, and P rin c ipa l o f th e T~a t o n T g h a n d ':\f an-li ua l T ra in in g Sc hoo l. Easto n. :\ la ry la nd . HAROLD BRENTON SCARBOROUGH , B . S., M. A. l 'rofr sso r. of l'hys ics and .1/l'c hlllliw / Drawin g. R O FESSOR J-1. B. S CARBOROUGH is a ::\Iary la n de_ a nd a g r a du ate: o f S t . J o hn' s r Co ll ege. L-1 e ha a lso d o n e w o rk at R e n sse laer I o lytec h n ic In s titute. T r oy, "\"cw Y o rk and at H a nard U ni ve t·s ity . Aft e r bei ng g raduated from S t. J o hn 's in 1904, he spe n t near ly three yea r s as a mac h ine de s igne r with a P itts burg h conce rn. a nd s in ce 190 has de,·o tcd hi s t im e to t eac hin g . Fo r fo ur yea r s h e li lled th e po iti n of Hi gh Sch oo l P rin c ipa l in. :Vlar y la nd. af t e r wh ic h h e b eca m e· Instru cto r i;1 "Mathe m at ics a n d ~ l ec h a ni ca l Drawin g in St. J o hn' s Sc hoo l. .\l a nliu s. "\"ew Y rk. Aft e r securi ng the :\ 1. 'A. d eg r ee fo r w o rk in Phy~ i cs a nd 1lathemati.:s. he was :~ ppo inted In stru cto r in 1Iath e m a t ics and Mec ha nica l Drawing in M cn e r sb_urg .\ca de my. Menersb urg, Pa .. fr m whic h pos itt o n he r es igned to accept th e c ha ir o f P h y ic a nd :\Iec hanica l Drawing at St. J o hn 's Co ll ege. 19 �JOHN BOYD WHIT E, A. B ., M. A . BENJAMIN HARRISON WADDE L L, M. A., C. E . Profess or of L.atin nnd C:rce/,•. Professor of Jl la th eu/Qt ics. EN J A MI N H :\ h.RISON WADDELL wa s bo rn in \• Vay n es boro. V ir g ini a, a n d her e r ece ive·d h1s ea rl y ed ucat1 n. o Late r h e ent er ed vV as hin g to n and Lee U ni ve r it y. Le · in g t o n . V ir g ini a. a n d was g r a du a ted fr o m t h e r e wit h th e degre of Maste r of A rt s and of C i,·il E ng in eeT. H e was a ft er ward s appo inted A ista nt Pr ofe sso r of Mathematic in th at U ni vers ity. Fo ll owi ng thi s h e was m ad e a Pro fe sso r in th e T exas ~Iilit a r y l n s t itut e. Austi n . Texas. and th en was ap p o inted Ad jun ct P r o fesso r in Ce n t ra l U ni ve-r sity. Ri ch mond . Ke n tucky . In 1903 P r o fesso r Wadde ll cam e to St. J o hn "Co ll ege as Professo r f l\ lat h e m a ti cs . 0 1-l N BO_YD W HIT E. a nat i,·c of P en,n sy lyan la, hr st a tte n ded sc h oo l at t he Gr o ,·e F r o m he r e h e C ity No rm a l Aca d em y . ent e r ed Geneva Co ll ege. Beave r f-a ll s. Pe nn sy lva n ia , a nd afte r hi s gra du at io n was occ upied in do in g Pos t-G radu ate wo rk a t j o hn s Hopk in s Un i,·e r ity, C hi cago U ni veTs ity a nd in Ge rman y . H e ta ug h t fo r three yea r s in Indi a n Tcnito r y, at Spence r Acade m y, a schoo l fo r Choctaw l nd ian s. Late r he became pr incipa l of C he st nut L e ,·e l Acad e m y . L a n cas te r, Pe nn y lva n ia. .In 1896 P r ofe-sso r \,Y hi te ca m e to St. J ohn 's Co llege as t h e hea d o f t he D e pa r tme n t o f Anc ien t La ng uag es. I ADOL F SC H UMAC H ER, P h. D. Profess or of A/ adem L. aug ungrs. DOLF SC H MAC I I ER.a nat ive of Hanno,·er. i.s a g r ad uat e of t he H.oya l Gy mn a sium at Go ttin g e n. H r ece ive d hi s D octo r 's d eg r ee fr o m bot h A m e ri ca n a nd fo r eig n uni ve r it ie s. Fo r li ,·e yea rs he pu r su ed the s tud y of :\ n cient Se miti c an d Romance P hi lo logy a nd L iterat ur es at the U n ive r siti es o f Gott inge n a nd L e ip sic: and comp leted it by cou r ses in Ge rm a n ic Lite r atu r e. Ph il· o logy a nd t h e R omance Language at th e U ni ver s ity o f P ·nn sy lvan ia. Dr. Sc h uma ch er has he ld th e fo ll o w ing pos ition s : Teac h er o f Ge rm a n a nd R o m ance L ang uag es at t he Swa in Free Sch oo l. New Be dfo r d. Massa c hu set ts ; P r ofesso r of Moder n Lang uages and P hil osop hy a t A n sga r Co il ge. H u tch in so n, ~I i nn eso ta ; Professo r of Mod ern La ng uages at U 1 inu s Co llege. · Co ll egev ill e. Pennsylvania: a nd Lecturer in Ge rm an ics in t he G r aduate Schoo l of th e U ni ve r s ity of P e-nn sy lva ni a . In Sep temb er. 19 12. h e ca m e to St. J o hn's as h ead of the Depa r t m e nt of :\l ode rn L ang uag es. O n S e ptember 9. 19 14. Dr. Sch um ac h r m a rri ed Miss Ac h sa h Do r sey R o b b. of A nn a po li s. :\I a r y land. He ha pub lish ed a boo k n ''Fe rdin a nd Lassa ll e, a a no ,·e list ic s ubj ect o f F ri edric h Sp ielh agen." 20 TOH N CLI FFORD GRAY , A. B., M. A. l ' rof rssor of Ch r 111istry aud Phys·ics. I ~ OFES S R G R A \" was bo rn in A rlin gton. ~:f ass ac hu s e tts .. a .nd . h er e co mp le ted hi s Gra mm a r and H 1 Sch oo l wo rk. gh H e e nte r e·d H a r va rd U ni ,·er sity in 1904. and fo u r ye ar s la te r r ece ived h is deg r ee. '" cu n\ lau de." in Ch e mi st ry. fr o m t hi s in st ituti o n. F o r ti,·e yea r s fo ll o wing h i grad ua t io n h e ta ug h t Scien ces in Th o 1n to n ' cad e111y. at ·aco . Main e. pendin g t hr ee ummer s o f t hi s t im e tudy in g a t Dartm ou t h U ni ve rs it y, s p ec ia li z in g in O r gan ic Chemi strv . ln 19 13 h e r ecei ved hi s Maste r o f A r ts degree fr~ m th a t U ni,·er s it y . hi thes is be ing ·' I r o blem s in C h lo rinat io n o f Acet ic Ac id.' " Th e sa m e yea r he was appo inted to th e cha ir of C hemi try a nd I hy sics at S t. j o hn " Co ll ege a n d imm edi a te ly ass um ed h is dut ies th e· fo ll ow in g Se p· lemb er. I'rofes o r G r ay , in 1910. mar r ied Mi ss O di lee G. Burnh a rn , of !3aco, :\ Ia ine. and is now th e proud fath er of a ro bus t o n. 21 �THOMAS L. GLADDEN. I11 SI rue/ or of the S ub-Frl'slunan Class . L. GL.-\DDE \: wa s born a t Mt. C rawfo rd , V irginia, 186 1. w.h ere h e att e nd ed t he· - pub li c sc hoo ls . Afte r comp let in g th e co ur se at th e S he nand oa h In s titu te . Dayt 11. Vi rg inia. h e s tudi ed a t Rand o lph - :\l acon Co ll ege . a nd at \\ 'ashingt o n a nd Lee U ni,·e r sity. Lexing to n , V ir gi ni a . Hi s pro fess io nal ca r ee r began in T exas in 1886. as Principal o f II ig h Sc hoo ls. b ein g late r affi li at ed wit h t he T exas t a t e U ni,·e r sity a s a m e mb e r o f th e S tat e !Zxamin e r s for Teach e r · le rtil ica t e. F o r fo u r ye ars h e was Principal f E lli cott C ity I I igh Sc hoo l. a nd for li,·e· yea r s wa s Supe rint e n cknt o f t h e Preparato ry Sc ho o l o f St . .J o hn 's Co ll ege, w h ic h was abo li s h ed ,in 1914. w h e n he was mad e In st ru c to r of th e Sub cFreshman C lass . w hi c h po . iLi o n h e n ow ho ld s. 1-1 O :M .-\ S ROSCOE EARL GROVE, A. B. In struct or uf t he Sub - Frcs hlllu/1 Class. OSCOE E. G R O VE was b o rn in F r ede ri ck Co unty . Mar y la nd . w he r e h e atte- ed th e nd pub lic sc hoo ls, and was g raduated fr o m t h e J liddl et ow n Hi g h Sc hoo l in 1904. with ho no r. \ Duri ng th e fol low in g sc hoo l yea r he wa s Prin cipal o f the i\ rn o ld stown Publi c Sch oo l. ·. ln 1905 h.e ·. e nte r ed Frank lin and M a r s ha ll C o l1e!!e. Lan cas t e r. P e nn sy l\'a ni a . L ea ,·in g a t th e e nd of; hi s jui1i o r ye ar. - he ca m e t p St. J o hn 's, a 1id was g r ~d uat e d . in 19 10. , .-\f.te r graduat io n at St. J o hn 's . h e wa s Com m ;l ndant o [ Cad e t s and In s t ru c to r in E ng li h a nd 1:-Ji; tory at hamb e r lain Militar y In s t itut e, H.andolph , Xdw York. ln 19 12 he r etur n ed to thi s In s tituti o n as .In s tructo r in t h e · Pre paratory c ho I and _-\ s is ta n · . \thl e t ic D irect r o f t he Co ll ege . \Vh e n th e Pre paratory Sc hoo l at S t. J o hn 's Co ll ege wa s abolis h e- in 19 14 he was mad e In st ru c t r o f t h S ub d F r es h m a n C lass. 22 �ll .\:'110.\L L li .\I.L " "OOOW .\ Hil 11 .\LL . I-ll"." PH HEl" H .\ LL 24 25 �~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ AA~~~&~~~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~&~~~~~~~*&~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 0 ~ . . . . . ~~ ~~ ~ ~~ ~* ~ ~ ~~ ~¢ 0 • ~¢: ~); "" 8.* ,T * * * ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~~ ~~ PHESIOE~ ' I"~ AXI) \"lCJ•: -PHE S IOE~T .. HO .\I E Jersey City, N . ]., a noted tree culturist, to be nearly · one thousand years old, and the largest tree east of the Rocky Mountains. In rgo7 * >X?= ~~ ~HIS tree is said by Mr. James T. Withers, of Iilli ~ )~ Wqr ®lb lliihrrty Wrrr *~( • • *~ ~ ~~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ '* * * *~ * * * • • • ~ ~ *~ *~ LIBERTY TREE ~ through the munificence of Mr. James T. Woodward it was placed in the hands of Mr. Withers for care and protection as it was then in very bad shape, and so hollowed by decay that eight or ten people cou ld stand at one time in the interior. After carefully scraping and *********************~** ••••••••••••••••••••••••• * # ~ disinfecting it, and strengthening the branches with iron rods, it was filled • * w ith over fift:Y tons of concrete, which has enabled it to stand several severe storms tha t have occurred since its scientific treatment. Two feet from the ground the tree measures tWenty-nine fee t and four inches in circumference, and stands 150 feet high. Tradition says that a treaty was signed beneath its branches between the Susquehannock Indians and the Colonists, and also that General Lafayette was entertained within its shade in r825, when he visited l> HO FE~ ~ OH' S 26 HO~IE A nnapolis. The D aughters of the American Revolution have marked it by a bronze tablet as a spot of historical interest. BASE • OF LIBERTY TREE * ~--····················· 27 �... "" ... D <11 < z ' ...· 0 ~ 0 ::: 0 ... l'ol ,... K l'ol ,-; p .... <11 < ~ ,... ;;.. 0 ::.. 0 ::: 0 .... ,.; l'ol ,... z .... �.. . . il;istory of Till it see m ed there we re th ousa nd s o f m em or ies O f num erOLJ S age s gon e by Th a t peopled th e n oo ks a nd the sh ado v1·s \Yh e re the wind whi s tled thru with a ·ig h. . ~~ ...}p&:l II J t see m ed there were m y ri ads of s pirits Of m en who have lo ng passed away. vVho here had rejoiced in lif e's sp ringtim e l:u t have long s in ce la in und e r the cla y. ~ ] h e :-~rd a fa int ru s tlin g of ivyA s so m e res tl e s s pirit. no doubt. ]-fad tin·ed i• in m em o ry o f g lad ness t r\ nd fTOod tim es th a t dwelt round ab out. .\h . as I s too d 'm on o· th ose hi ·tori c s t at~1 es .\ way from the world' s hull -aba loos , \ ncl , li fting ·the vei l of. the; ages, Thu s exposed th e past. to my view, I ' t ho ug hl of th e g rea t m en \\ ' h o' d g otte'n th eir s ta rt at .\nd gon.e to' .th e wo rld ·w ith . \ n cl en t e:red and won i1 th e 1 before m e · thi s p lace co nfid e nce race. The n prid e for my old \lm a ~I a t e r .\rose · till it brok e a ll its b ond s:\ fay we ca rry o n th e work she is do in g! . .\ll ' h a il to hi stori c Sa int J o hn 's ! 30 J(ing vVil li am 's' School wa s the fir t name g iven to th e old est a nd most revered in stituti on in the ~tate today, ~n.d it s puq?ose ,_!] wa s to create a school "fo r the -educat1 o f yo uth s 111 th1 s provmc e on ~~ in good letters a nd manne rs.'' A ft e r Gove rn o r N icholson had g iven the site a nd fifty pound ste rling, a nd th e }-louse of B ur·oted 4. 000 pound s o f tobacco, then as good as money \ gesses had 1 · in the co loni es, a number of wealthy co loni st added a •1 eat sum as their contributi on to th e und ertaking. Con sequent ly a simpl e brick bu ilding a rose nea r the Loate House in 170 1, a nd schoo l 11·as begun in th e same yea r. Th e fi rst president was th e Rev. Edwa rd B utl er. who was . as a few of hi s successo rs were, the rector o f vene rable Sa int A nn e's. .-\ !though King William 's School sati sfied a long- felt want, it wa s by fa r n o~ a ll that the coloni sts des ired and needed. vVhat was necessa ry wa s a real college to ob1·iate the neces ity o f c rossing th e A tlanti c for a classical and high e r education. It had been proposed: to found such a co ll ege as ea rl y a s 167 1. Th e yea r 1732 saw a bi ll be fore th e Gen eral \.ssembly, but it was defeated . Th e nex t attempt came in 1763, when the bill ·was rejected by the uppe r house onl y. '!'e n yea rs late r the demand had becom e so strong that the Assembl y agreed to, g-ra nt · a cha rter to a coll ege wh ich was to be in Ann a poli s. B ut th e fight fo r ind epend ence call ed all to arm s in 1776. and th e cha rte r was not, in fact. g ra nted until 178-+. Th e co ll ege was . na med · St. J ohn 's Co ll ege, afte r the fa mous one· at Ox ford U ni1·ersity, whi ch na me it ha s borne e1 r sin ce. As th e site o f th e, ·e institu tion th a t o f Gove rn or Bladen's un completed residence was ta ken. a nd I he ,na me of " Bladen' s Foll y '' was. in the honor of the first president, Dr.' :\[cDowell. changed to l\IcDowell Hal l. wh ich wa s to be the onl y bu il dinrr o f, St. J ohn' for se venty-o ne yea rs. T he fir st thirteen yea rs a fte r the full start o f th e Co ll ege in 1793 we re. Ye rr p1·osperous. Th e entire King \ Villi a m' s School had been tran sfe rred to . nnapolis. excepting, o f course. its lone bl.li lding . Influenti al men took p ride in-. suppo rting- it. a nd th e Sta te al lowed $8,7.10 eac h yea r. P reside 1t Washington. hon ored · St. J o.hn 's with a vj sit. accompanied by Gene ral Lafayette. He foll owec\ th1 s with a lette r o f " praise a nd enco uragement. · F o r ·some unki1 ow n reason th e Legi lature uddenl y withdre w it s pl edged suppo rt in 1806, a nd until it partly resto red the appropriati on in 18 12,· the ·Coll ege suffe red . a sac! setback. Conditi ons we re slightl y imp ro1·ed by the additi on of $20.000 by a lotte ry in 182 1: but the Coll ege was not to prog ress until ·Dr. H ector· Humphri es too k charge. Being a ve r y energeti c and abl e man. he did hi s best during hi : pe ri od o f admini stration. whi ch lasted from 183 1 to 18:i7. Two new C!dJ T th o ught th at I sensed g h ost ly shad ow s · vVho flitted so so ftly with wings O'e r th e ba tt e red and bea ten o ld parap ets A nd cupo la where ·t h e ch ape l be ll rin gs. I· "'&il ~~ problem o f edu cation was not long in taking hold of the settler . Bu t they faced it with th e same determin ation with whi ch they had faced othe r problem s, and as a result of their endeavo rs < L chool was founded in 1696, sixty-two yea r after the fir t co loni st ::~c~l. set foot on the soil of what was to be th e State of .1\Iary- ~ I th ought that I h ea rd the wa ll s whi sper Th e ta les of th e prank s -that w e re played 1\y lad s o f th e o ld eig ht eenth ce ntury, \\ ' h ose bodi es ha ve di ed and decaye d. ' lJnqn's - ~ N i-IAl~)' L \ N D , as . in a lm ost all ot he r States of th e U ni on, th e ~ ~. · 6} ~ ~t. 31 �lf li.atury uf §t. 1/u!7tt's---illunt. IJU ildings we re a dd ed by hi s untirin g effo rts, both be in g do rmi tories. Th e one \\·as named Pinkn ey :H a ll, afte r a di stingui shed a lumnu , a nd the o th er bo re the na me of th e belo\·ed head. Dr. Humphri e . Fro m thi s tim e o n the GoYern o r o f Mary la nd becam e ex-o fficio member of th e Board of Visitors and Gove rnors. Th e Civil \ i\fa r t ru ck t. J o_hn' s a heavy bl ow in 186 1. For a t im e t he old Co ll ege practicall y cea eel to ex 1st. Th e tea che r and stud ents ra lli ed to th e co lo rs of the side who e ca u e they thought j u t. The F ede ra ls se ized th e in ti tutio n and ma de it a hospital. Th e hi to ri c wa lls that look do wn on us tocla v have see n many a sa d sig ht. \iVh en peace again reigned suprem e the Co ll ege was reopen ed in 1866, but it stumbl ed a lm o t a im le sly through a peri od of twe nty yea r of un certa inty, lack of support, and lack of teac he rs and pupi ls. ln 18 6 Dr. Thomas Fe ll becam e the head at St. J ohn ·s. H e wo rk ed as hard, unti ri ng ly an d ca pab ly as DL Humphries. l ut he wa mu ch mo re ucces. fn l. I-le has car ri ed t. J ohn' throug h ma ny a storm y yea r, and hi cl etennination has put it on a new foot ing. \ i\fe O\Ye to him th e. choo l we have today, a school ho no red and r espected by a ll. Three new buildings ha\·e I ee n e rected o n th e ca mpu during Dr. Fell's pr es id ency. Th ey are: Woodwa rd Hal l, nam ed afte1· hi s father by the dono r James T . ·w oodward ; Randall Hall , na med after j ohn \ i\f irt Randall, a \Ye ll k no wn A lumnu s. and th e new Cy mna ium , one of the fi nest in J\Ia ryla nd. Tn 1909 a n eve nt occ urred that fi ll ed th e hea rts of a ll t. J ohn's m en wi th ~acln es - o ld M cD owe ll Hal l fel l a v ict im to flam e on a w indy, wintry day in Februa ry. St. J ohn' s men . Navy men and citi zens of A nnapo lis foug ht side by side to save he r, ' 'but 'twas taps for old :JicDow II. ' ' The fury of the flam e. de troyecl eve ryth ing mate ria l but th e bell and the cia s-shi eld ·, but it cou ld not dest roy the g reatest thing- th e pirit that rose from the · mber . A most rema rk able eli play of St. John 's sp ir it f oll owed the mi fortune. EYe ry a lum nus an l fr iend held out hi s helping hand a nd :JJcDowell rose again, a p roud a. eve r. The building i new, but it stand s on th e o ld f ound at io n , a nd to eve ry St. J ohn's ma n it is ·'o ld :JicDowe ll. " St. John' s. in he r lo ng and enviaul e ca ree r, has g rad uated ma ny m en of who m a ny institution woul d be proud. But she alon e had th e hon o r o f produc ing the ma n who wrote th e a nth em f the nation , the Star-Spa ngled Ban neL Franc is Scott K ey is a pupi l of whom hi s . \l ma :JJate r is proud ind eed. S t. John's takes prid e in he r ab ility to send fo rth men \rho a re me n in th e truest sense of the wo rd . · A St. John' s man does not boast when he say that hi s clear o ld schoo l, fo r its size. lead s a ll in the produ ction o f scho la rs. at hl etes, and o ldi e r . "\ s it wou ld weary th e reade r to menti o n na mes, suffi ce it to say that St . J ohn 's stands hi g he t academ ica lly o f a ll und e rara du ate choo ls in :Jiarylancl . that a ll teams fca r a nd respec t a S t. J ohn 's tea m because of its grit a nd neve r-say-di e St. Jo hn' spirit, a nd th at St. J ohn 's has bee n repea tedl y boo ked a mong the ten be. t milita ry school of th e U ni ted ta tes . . . \ Vhat put our belo\·ecl . choo l in its high place i th e und yin g a int J ohn 's - 1~1 nt. and as long- as a spa rk o f the old spirit remain . a ll Sa in t John's men \\'il l have not hing but prid e f o r he r present and confid e nce fo r he r fu tu re. 33 �HE tuclent body of any in tituti on . . co mpa rative ly speak ing , is by far less consp icuous and less loo ked afte r by one who is contempl a ting a course a t that in st itution tha n the lumni . Ju t a the empl oye r asks the appli cant " what have yo u clone" ' rath e r than " what are yo u do ing"' o r "what can you do,' " so the eye of the world a re on the output, so to peak, of any co ll ege and unive rsity. Th e und e rg raduates a re judged. to a g reat degree, by th e g rad ua tes and hence it is the A lumni that afford a mean of compa ri son a nd beco me a ba sis on 1~ hi ch the sta ndard of a choo l re t . We do not f ea r being accused of egot ism when we say that old , t. John" ha tu rn ed out men who have been in trum enta l in t he shaping of our dest iny a a stat a nd as a nat ion, and it is w ith g reat pride that we hai l the e old pat ri ots. On down through the yea rs ou r . \lma I\Iater has eve r furni shed h e r quota of men who have gone fo rth to ach ieve prom in ence in p ract ica ll y eve ry profession . Today, we re it not for our lu mni who a re continua lly offering mea ns and sugge.:tions a lona at hl et ic, military a nd academ ic lin es, we wo ul d be as a ship sa iling the main without a c rew. SPONSOR RA.T-TAT In this issue of the RA 'l'-TAT we have p laced, as a token o f our apprec iation of the ir devotion. a few of our A lumni . who ha 1 evei· ·e been loya l sons. Woul d that the space were greater to in clu de others. 35 �• ROBERT F. MADDOX OBERT F. ~ [ ADDOX g rad uated f rom S t. J ohn' s Co ll ege in 1876. with degr ee of Bachelo r of A rt . \ iV hil e at Co ll ege, Mr. :-Iaddox was a _memJ:e r of the boat crew, a nd play ed cente r fi ld on the baseball _team 1n HV-1-. H e wa sec reta ry of h1 s class fo r two )_'ea rs, _a nd _a me1~1 b 1 o f the Phd okali a n L ite ra ry oc iety, of whi ch he was pres1dent 1n h1 s Sen10r yea r . 1\Ir. M a ddo x was bo rn in Fairmoun t, ome rset Coun ty, in 18:i 3. a nd a fter fi nishing hi s co ll ege cou rse taught schoo l fo r e\· ra l year . In 1887 he was elected to th e J-l ou e of D elegate ·. whe re he sen ·ed the te rm of 1888. In 189 1 he was elected R caiste r of \ iV ill s fo r ome rset Cou nt y. \\·hi ch pos iti on h h eld for six yea rs. In 1902 l~e was appo inted Cle rk a nd Treasu:er to th e _Coun t~ Co mm is ione rs whe re he ser ved fo r ele \·en yea r , and was appo111ted Reg1 ter or \ Vi lis in 1915, 'to fi ll a n un expired te rm . Jn poli t ic . :-Jr. ::\lad dox ha a lways been a Democ ra . 36 GEORGE E. BENNETT E\)RGE E. _1 I .':NN ETT a raduated fr om .S t. J o hn 's in 189\ at th e head of h1 1 · · a . cla . · w1th the dea rees of 1-\ . ]3: a nc 1 . S . 1'1 111 0 t o f· h1·s t1me smce ~>. . 1e ~ I ad u a l10n has bee n g1 ven_to teachm g. I n 189.1 -1896 he ta twht a g ramm ar ~c h oo l nea r Ma n on tat10n, ome rset Coun t)' · 1896- 190" 1 · a· . were c1 1r t 1 t 1 . d. ' J , li S e n e r~> I e:; , ec ec o t 1 up 1 1 1ng of the schoo l at Mard ela, Mel.; in 1903, M r. )UI. ~Jei~nct t w_ent t u th e Q u a nt iCO G ramma r c hoo l a n d r e m a in ed th er e unt il 1911 ~t~nn g wi:I ch t ime he se ntto St. J ohn 's the foll o wing students: \ iValter Ba il eY: 1att Ph iii1 ps, H r man .H adyso n, Cla ud e Ba il ey a nd Ho ll a nd Ri <mi n . Tl~e . cholasticyea r, 1911 - 1912, wa . SJ ent at the Preston Hi a h chool Th e fo ll ow in a y~a r h c!Jcl _not teach, but in ~h e Fa ll of _1 91-t, g row in~ wea ry ~f hi s reti re ment ~{~ml tC ~ p i of~ssi on of teach mg. he aga m r es um ed activiti e ' thi s time at th e h · 10 ram ma 1 Schoo l, whe re he ha rema m d sin ce that t ime. . :- J r. Benn ett is fro m l\Jardela . M a rylan I. He receiv c1 hi s ea rl v education in thi s p lace a nd wa s g rad uated from the 1\Iar lela Hi g h Schoo l in 1891. 37 �JOHN G. SHEARER _ _ S J 1 ' Coll eae in the Fall of 1901. _ O H 1 G SI1.E \ RER nteted t 01 11 sS J o ' lle took a n actiYe pa rt Ill _ l - . - I e SJ) nt a t t. o 111 ' d Dunng th e IX yeal s , l\Ianao-er of 1906 Foot! all 1 am , an all co ll ege event ..: Was A~~~st~~t fi r t b~ e on Ba eball Team for tb ~·ee Manager of 190/ Team. -cy a rs was also membe r of P htl oeasons. M _mber ? f Hot! Cotl~lll~t~~ ~f:n~/~zaJ;pa Fraternity, and Trea urer mathean Society, lgma lap el ' "' of hi s Clas - _ , ae l\Ir. Sheare r went into the empl oy ~f tl:e Upo n Jeav mg t J ohn s Coll e, . d later the emp loy of the BaltlmOI e v\ estern l\Ia ryla nd Rai lway Compa~y;· i ~.n of c 1910 he became half OW I~ e r of the & O hi o R ailroad Company. In the _P g he i now V ice-P res ident and . C , of wh1 ch compa ny Yang Constru ctiO n ompan)' . C sin ce bein o- form ed , h a 1 )een vet y Trea ure r. T~leVang Con ~-ru,::tl on r ~~1~)~1II'tim o re & O hi o Ra ilroad Co mp~~y, uccessf ul , butl dmg ma ny ~~~_d,~s f~ ste rn Maryla nd Rail way Company. I he e tl 1'ell nessee R ive r at Chattanooga, also brido-e a nd tunn el Ol ~le c " comj)any "'·IS now b ut-11 tn,a a bnd "' across . 1e c· . o-e C . a t a cost of over a mt"]] ton d o 1ommt stOn, c I I 'f enness ee R .tve r I h·s fat he r' I usin ess sin ce ht. d eat1, seve t.a I Tennessee, fo r t1e Ia rs. "'[ 1-. Shea rer bas al o contmuec t -'' vea rs ago. . t iYe in oliti cs in A ll ega ny C un ty and a l\1 r S hea re r h as been ve t y ac . I p n th e Democ ra ti c ti ck et fo r . -- · I the a t electt o n 1e was o g reat De m cr a t . n d p defeated by onl y nin eteen votes. Ho use of Delegates an was 38 m BURTON PROCTOR, B. A. R. PROCTOR, the on of l\Ir. a nd M rs. Charles \ V. P rocto r, was born at ~e l ._ir , H arford Co un ty, l\Iary la nd , in 1 7-l-. R ecei\·ing hi s ea rl y ed u c~­ \ tton 1n the schoo ls of tha t co un ty. l\Ir. Procto r mat n culated a t t_ J ohn Septemb er 17 1 90, a nd was g rad uated f rom th a t in stituti on in 1 '9-l-, w i!.h the deg ree of B. 1\ . \i\lhil e a t St. J ohn 's, as a student. he was co nsta ntl y winnin_ofame in the athl et ic act ivities. He p layed f ull back on the footba ll team , and tt is said that no ma n ev r congratu la ted him elf for hav ing attempted to pass hi m. M r. P roctor defend ed hi pos iti on with Horatia n ki lL In ba seball , he wa a ta r second ba ema n, and ai ways ca r ried off hi hare of the la urels. . \ nd that old-time baseball enthu sia 111 has not been c ru shed out by the bu rden s of a bu ine s li fe, for, imaria bl y, with th e approach of Sp rin a that smolderi no- spark becomes enkindl ed into a fl a me a ndl\Ir . Procto r po e a a ba eba ll fa n. In academi c work, li t ra ry societ ie , a nd va-ri ou p ha es of tudent act ivities, :\1 r. P rocto r took a remarkable intere t. . t p rese nt he is a membe r of the canning fi rm , Fook a nd P roctor, of P re ton, ::\la ryland, w hi ch is do ing a thri ving busin ess. Po li ticall y, l\Ir. Procto r has alway been a Democ rat a nd ha taken inte re t in th e p ubli c i ue of hi s coun ty. 39 �®br to tqr ~rnior illla.a.a O h, Se ni or Cia s. your graduation clay draws near, O h, nobl e Class, your work is almost o'er, Go . batt le with th e world a nd do not fea r, Su ccess and Fame li e ready at your door. Be care ful le t you think life's task too sli ght. Be watchful Je t you deem Her wo rk too small , Fo r ove r confide nce is bad as fright. So meet Life wa ril y a nd you'll not fa ll. I .... .... ··: . . . . . .. .... ···. You 've toil ed with us full ma ny a weary clay, \ncl thi old School that you haYe lea rn ed to love, Remember H e r when you have gone a way f\ ncl sp read 1-l er fame thro ughout the realm s above. As Freshmen, She, a moth e r, took you in , A nd ca red for you, a nd sta rted you alo ng; As Sophomores, your tra ining did begin To m ake you stand togethe r, up ri o-ht, strong . As Junior , your course is all but run , A nd soon you'll ta rt upon the final heat That brings you to the race wh ich just begun. \iV ill throw u cces or Failure a t yo ur feet. As Seni ors, yo u have lea rn ed the law of ri ght, Th e law that t. J ohn 's taught you to apply. Which conque rs o 'e r th e dread o f darkest ni ght nd fi ll yo u with that thou :shr "NeYer say di e." As G rad uate, your boclie leave St. J ohn 's B ut mem'ri es o f you rest he re ma ny a cl ay, U ntil your well known na me n plates of bronze J-la\·e re ted, d ropped to pieces, gone away. O h, Fa rewell , Se ni o r Class, again Farewel l, . \ncl may God satisfy your eve ry need. 'v\'e feel tha t all o f you wil l turn out well , Good lu ck to all , to all goclspe d. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. ·::· :-· . . . . . . . . ·::· l. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .....................................................................................................:! 40 • �F RE D J. .HI RLAS KJ,- "J?r·ed " A nnapoli s, Md. S CJE NTlFJC ''.Re g ood, braz•e yo uug IIW11 , and let w h o z ill be cle<•er; Do n oble thiugs. uot dr ea. 111 th e 111, all do·y lo ng; Aud s o 111ake life, death, and that <·ast forez·rr; ne graud, sweet WOJ•." Juni or RiAe Club (2); A sis ta nt E di to r- in -Ch ie f R AT-T AT (3); Coti ll on C lub (2. 3. 4 ); Jun e B a ll Committee (3); ergean t Co. B (3); 2nd Li eut en a nt Co. B (4); V ice-P res ide nt Phi lo ma th ea n Literary ociety (3) : A Itern a te Int e rsor iety Deb a te (2. 3); S eni o r Rif1 e C lu b (3, 4 ); F oo tba ll T ea m (3. 4 ); C ia Hi stori a n (3) ; Manager T enni s ( 4 ); T enni s T ea m (3, 4); Vice-P res ident of Stud ent S enat e (4 ); First G rade Certilicate (2, 3) ; As sista nt Ed itor C olleg ian (4 ). ~totto: "Le i l1-inr wh o h a s w on it bea r· t he pal m ." I RED ca m e to A nn a po li from th e wild a nd w oo ly part of ' ' \• ' es t'' -e rn M a ryl a n d . \ It was aft er thi s that St. John 's h ea r s of "Fr cl.'' Ent e rin g th Sop ho m o re C lass a fuli -Aedgecl m ember afte r three hour s of s trenu ous work as a form of exa minati on co ndu cted by the who le S phomo r e C lass. Freel is a unkn o wn puzz le becau c hi n a m e see m to be a lway a t th e top o f the Ho n or Rol l, a nd it is a kn ow n fa ct that h e spend s m os t of hi time a t \'a rio u places in the w es te rn part o f th e city. Th e q ue ti o n i ·' How does· he do it ?" Th e ol utio n to thi q uestion is n a tur a l ab ility and hi s power to con centr a te hi s thoug ht . The Bi ela ki- H yde co mbin at ion is stea dil y workin g it s way to th eto p of th e ladde r. And he r e's hoping that he and hi s est ee med assoc ia te may beco me th e top round of this ladder so m e clay when t hey a re up aga in st th e kno cks and blo ws of th e world . H yde i ec reta ry a nd tr easu rer a nd Bi elask i m a nage r of thi s li rm wh ich was formed in th e La bo ratory of Dr. Gray . Freel is kn o wn in th e at h let ic circle of th e Co ll ege, where he ha perfo rm ed on bo th th e footba ll a nd tenni s tea ms with di stin cti o n . For hi s brillia nt wo rk in th e bra nc hes of coll ege activities h e h as rece i,·ecl a mon ogra m fro m bot h departments of a thl et ics, and n ow has th e cligni lie cl po siti o n of m ana ge r of th e T enni s tea m. VVe wi sh him a ll th e su ccess th at goes to ma ke a famou s che mi t. 'l' HOMAS El'<JE :\'r ~ B OU RKE,- "Geu e" Severna Park, Md. S c i ENT I FJC ''1 0111 proud of all th e Irish blood 111 ·111 e." Junior RiA e C lub ( 1. 2); eni o r RiA e C lu b (3); Mark s man (3); R AT- T .\'1 B oa rd ( 3 ) ; ' Se ro-ea nt Co. "A" (4) ; Philomath ea n L iterary Soci ety (2, 3, 4) . 1otto: "On wi t h t he da.nce an d l et joy be un co nfin ed." E cou ld name n u m.er o u .~nd va ri o us stages of acti vi ties. abo ut thi s yo un o- Iri shm a n but wh en w e ay · f u e r we need to look for h1 a mb1t1 o ns n o longe r. H e ca m e to us f rom S eve rna Park, a we ll inh abited place in Mary la nd , and, is well known to u s a ll by hi s ho r e la ugh. H e ente red St. J o hn ' q ui te a few yea rs ago a n d was a star in hi s clas unti l th e ev il ( ?) of hi s fri end s a nd class mates ha ve a lm os t ma de him a f res h a ir love r , a nd on acco unt of thi s he is m a kin g a man ly end eavo r for h is hee pskin thi s yea r. H e love hi s clogs a nd g un , and , in th e fall. ca n often be seen ski ppi ng d ri ll a n d w ith a few of his fe ll ow tucl ent s ta k e th e ca r for S eve rna Park to enjoy an afte rn oon huntin o-. Hi s tale s concerning th e ga m e h e lci lls oft en remind us of th o e fa mo u fis h s tories whi ch ha,·e been ha nd ed clown o n e gen e ration afte r a n ot he r. \Ne think it s tra nge that t hi s blond, so f o nd of g irl s, is n eve r see n wi th a ny in Annapo lis. bu t so m e o f u have good reaso n to know diffe rent a he is a lw ay tellin g of hi s t rips to Baltimore a lmo t week ly to ee the goo d looki n g o-irl s of th a t "little'' it y " ·he re he has bee n seen n ea r Unio n Station quite often . "Gene'' say th a t h e is go in g to be a scient ific ge ntl em a n far m e r. a nd he i s s pec ia lizin g in chemi sty. w hi ch will en able him t o a n alyze the s il. '· Gen e 's" ab ility ha s n o t been thoroug h ly di scussed he re. but he ha proven hi wo rth m any tim es wh ile a t St. J o hn' s. H e is g r ea tly lik ed by a ll a nd th e whol e tuclent body w ish him wea lth a nd hap pin ess in hi f utur e life. 43 �JAMES 'l' HO!'\'I AS .Ot:JiE,- ".Jimmi e " Morgan za, Md . Clt:NTinc ·' Ju battle a r b usiuess, w lwte'<'c r !he ga111e, fu law or in lo'<'e. he is e'<'l'r !he salnl' ." Clas P r es ide n t (3. 4); Class H is to ria n (2); Bus in ess Ma nage r R.IT-T Ar (3): J u n Ba ll Co mmi ttee (3 ); Cot il lon Clu b (3, 4 ) ; H op Co mmitt ee ( 4 ) : Presiden t St udent 'ena te (4); Co mmitt ee on Co ll ege Tra di t ions ( 4 ); Co ll ege Deba tin g T ea m (4 ); Class Base hal l (2); . ss ista n t l\ la nao·er Ba eba ll (3) ; Ma nager Ba eba ll ( 4 ); Se rgea n t Co. "A " (3); 1st Lie ut ena nt Co. "A '' ( 4 ) ; Seni o r Ri Ae Club; l\[ a r ks ma n : P hil oka li an L itera ry ociety; P. ?\J. 0. ~lotto: "'l'o co mbin e the u se ful with th e pl eas>mt." H E~ "Jimmi e'' ca me to us in 1912 he ma de u p hi s min d tha t as soo n as he cou ld get used to the ha rd b ri ck pave ment a nd hig h br ick buil d in g , he wo ul d ta rt r ig ht in and s how 'e m the kind of ma ter ia l S t. Mary's Co unty wa s capab le o f turn ing out. a n d he di d. S in ce t ha t tim e he has bee n mi xed up in a lm os t eve rythi ng. fro m stea lin g app le afte1· tap , to " mak in g '' th e Co ll ege D eba tin g T ea m. ''Jimmi e's " long ui t is a rg uin g. a nd t he ma n who acc id ent a ll y pu ts o 1 r the last wo rd ·e on him may co ng rat ul ate him se lf. but eve n the n he clai ms th a t in speaki ng bef o re a n a udience he wo uld be mu ch mo re succe ful. wer he on ly a ll owed to u e the o r d in a ry t. J ohn' s " roo m lan g uage." Du e chi eAv to hi s th ou O" htf uln es fo r othe r peop le, ''] immi e'' ha n 1 r go ne ou t for ·e a ny of the at l{Jet ic tea ms, but on seve ra l occasions when so me o f o u r hu sk1· at hl ete ha1·e a tt em pted to get f res h with him , he has ca used t hose un fo rtun ate in cl i,·id ua ls to q uake with fea r by threa tenin g to come out fo r foo tb a ll. To say th a t he i po pul a r a mong hi s fell ow tu clen t wo uld he pu ttin g it mildl y. Th e bes t way to tell wha t we think of "Jimmi e'' is to say th a t eve rybo dy just na tura ll y loves him . ''Jimmi e" hasn' t q uite dec i led wh ich pa rt o f th e wo rl d wil l be awa rd ed the sun h ine of h is smil e fo r keep . but we wil l a ll agr ee th at whethe r he becom t;s a mem b r of Cong res o r just a pl a in So uth e rn M a ryla nd fa rm e r St. J o hn 's has tu rn ed out a man whom she m ig ht just ly be pro ud to ca ll one o f her sons. GJ<:OBGE ENELL DUYOE N,- "Puss " S now ·Hill, Md. L AT I N-S JJ:l'\ 'I' I FIC Co r po ra l B and (2) : e ro-ea nt B a nd (3); Li eut ena nt Ba nd ( 4) ; P . H. F. 0 . E . (3); O rches tra ( 1. 2. 3. 4 ) : M a nd o lin a nd Glee Clu b (2. 3. 4 ); L ead e r o f Ma nd olin Club (4 ): lumni Ed ito r R AT-T A'I' (3); B oa rd in g Clu J ( 4 ); T reas ure r P hil oka li a n Lite ra ry Society (2): Treas ure r Cia s (3) : Treas ur er Y. M . C. f\. (3); F oo tb a ll Tea m (2. 3. 4 ); S. ]. C. Sta r. '1 2; lass B aseba ll T a m ( I, 2, 3. 4 ) ; P . M . 0 . U S ha il fr om th e Eas te rn ho'. Th e exac t loca ti o n o f th e place he ca ll s no w H ill , we have bee n un a bl e to asce rta in. T o loo k at thi s gen t lema n's izc, one i like ly to ol ta in t he impress ion th a t he i r ea ll y tle rce. But fa r be it fr om such. " Pu '' has the kind e t o f hea rt s a nd is a lways rea ly to do a nyone a favo r and pr otec t th e litt le o ne fr o m ph ys ica l har m. a he cl e ' 'Loui e.' ' win g to thi qua li ty. as well a. se1·e ral o th e rs o f a lmost eq ua l 1·alu e. "Puss'' is one of t he mos t pop ul a r men a t St. J o hn ' to d ay. His pr inc ipa l fa ilin g is the fa ir sex; a nd he is o fte n found o ver in '·L oui e's'' roo m. d r eaming of "th e g irl bac k h ome'' r ta lkin g a bo ut so m e qu een he met a t th e dance. "Pus 's'' grace ful fo rm is see n at a ll of th e da nces. a nd he se ldo m mi sses a S un day ni g ht a mong th e fa ire r sex of " r ah to wn ." H e is a l a good a thl ete. ha1·in g fo r three years been o ur ta r foo t ba ll ce n te r a nd wo n a n S. r. C. Sta r in 19 12. ·'P uss' ;, chi ef a m bit ion is to ente r t he a rm y ( ?) . a nd a lth o ug h a mem be r of th e Ba nd. we be1i e,·e he i a g reat mi li tary ma n, a nd he hopes to be M a j o r-Gene ra l o f th e Co m m i a ry Depa rtm ent so me day . o me of t he P rofesso rs. recogni zin g " P uss's" excep ti ona l a bility a an acto r . tr ied to per uade him to take th e lead in g , pa rt in t he Society play. but "P u .'' mu ch to o ur regr et. ref used . say in g he had too mu ch wor k (?)-hut we no ti ce he a lways had ti me fo r hi s cas in o <t n I 500 ga m e w ith "H a rd y" a nd " Freel." " Pu ss'' ca me ha ck thi s yea r a n ex tremely li g h t sc hed ul e a nd onl y r ema in ed with us until X mas. a t wh ich tim e he co m plet d hi s wo r k. 45 �L ORR AINE D. F IE L OS,- "Ba nd y" Pikesvil le , Mel . SciE NTifiC F irst Gracie Ce rti f-ica te ( 1. 2, 3, 4 ) ; Cla s Basket (2, 3. 4, 5) : R AT-TAT Boa rd o f Class (4); Ca pta in Track "He co 11 quers who C11dures." ( l ); Clas Sergeant-a t-A rm s ( 1, 2); Clas. F otba ll T ea m Ball Team ( l , 2) ; F oo tball qu a d (2. 3. 4 ) ; Track T ea m (3); Corpo ra l Co. "B" (3); Sergeant Co." " (4 ); Sec reta r y Team (5·) ; B. B. B. ; Phi lomathean Litera ry Society. 1\t otto: "Le m ·n to be an o r·a.to t·." OME peop le say th a t th e section of a co untry from which a man co mes has a g r at e ff ect upon hi s cl eve lo t ment, both phy ica lly and menta ll y. From hi o utw a rd a ppearance and fr o m th e abo1·e statement one wou ld j ud ge !!Bandy" to be ve ry ca pab le. H e has bee n very effi cien t in oratory. ''Ye ca ll me chi e f.'' Nothing troub les ·'Bandy'' excep t th at th e hour in a cl ay are too few to acco mm odate his sc hed ul e. " Band y" I eca me on e of th e foo tlig hts this yea r, and we li nd him a '' Blushin g Bud'' among th e fair sex . H e alway s ta lks abo ut th e gir l back home-"Virg inia." ·H e ha exp ressed hi mself as wa nti ng to enter th e fi na ncial world, but "graduate first" i hi motto. "Bandy" is doin g better work thi s year. So me think it i du e to the coaching abilit1e of hi room - mate ·'S ad ie." Fro'm th e appea rance o f th eir roo m they ma ke noble ho usekeepers and we wi ll reco mmend them to th e gent le·r sex. " Bandy,"· in hi se ven years of co ll ege life, ha ta ken interes t in a ll ath leti cs and we fi nd him no w Capta in of th e Track T ea m. H world. e i a ood fel lo w and we a ll wish him g rea t uccess in hi s a dv entur e in th e busin ess CHA RLES L ESTE R H A RTSOCH.: ,- "Ha r·d y" Cu mb e r la n d, Mel . ScJ£NTJfJC "Me n of few wo rds are true w en." Sha r pshoo te1· (2); Co. " B'' RiA e T ea m (2, 3); Corpora l Co. ' 'B" (seco nd term ) (3); Fir t Grade Cert ilicate (3); I t Lieutenant Battali on Adj uta nt (4); Ed 1tor-i n-C hi ef Co llegiau (firs t term ) (4); Phi lo ka lian Literary S ociety. 1\'lotto: "Ea se wi t h dig ni ty." HIS worth y yo un g man j o in ed the Cias of 1916 in its second yea r a nd sin ce th a t time ~1as been one _o f th e mo st abl e of its ,_, embers. , . . 1 hro ug ho ut h1 S ophomore and Jun1 o r yea rs, not be 111o- burde ned w1th heavy chedul es o r a rdu ou duti es, he wa s a de vo ut di scip le of tha t ge ntl e go d, Morph eu , and mi o-ht a t any tim e o f th e day o r ni g ht be fou nd upo n hi co uch engage I in sweet and peaceful co mm uni on with thi deity . .H oweve r. now th a t he is a Senio r, a nd has atta in ed a ll th dign iti es and hca1·y res pon ibilities as such, hi s form e r idol is all but fo rgott eJi and to see him sunk in "tired Na ture's sweet re to rer" at any oth er tim e th a n after "ta p ., is a ra rity. "Ha rd y" st and s hig h in hi aca demi c work. be in g q ui ck to lea rn, a nd ha1 g a natura l ·in aptitude fo r hi s subjects. H e possesses a quiet self-co n fi dence a nd di s patches with celeri ty and accuracy wha teve r d uti e a re befo re him- and th ey a re ma ny. fo r he wears th e chevrons of t he Ba tta lion Adjutant, and is Editor-in -C hi e f of th e Co llegian, two of th e most exac tin g offices in College. Du rin g hi s fi rst two yea rs, la l ora to ry work pre1·ent ed hi s devo tin g mu ch tim e t o footbal l. a lt-ho 1 b a memb er of th e quad. Thi s fa ll , howeve r, fr ee f rom uch res train t, g he ca me o ut, a nd work in g ha rd, eemed to ,fi nd him el f. J1" e won th e po iti on of r ig ht tackle, play in o- a stea dy ga me thr ug hout th e seaso n. and now wea rs hi s S. J. C. and th e tea m wa tch fob . "Ha rd y's" loya lty. goo d fell ows hi p and many ot her likab le q ua liti e ha ,-e won for him many frie nd s who mu st hea rti ly wi . h him success in hi s chosen ca ree r as a doctor. 46 47 �.F R.EOEH I CK W :ES'l'OX H¥01<:,-" \\'est" Anna poli s, lVId. S cn:N'nnc r,A g reat er fr ir nd hath n o 111011." Sec retary Cia ( I ) ; Co r pora l Co. ·' ., (2); Quarte rm aste r- e rgca nt Co. "B" ( eco ncl term ) (3); Captai n Class Footba ll Tea m (2) : V a rs ity Footba ll T ea m (3); k A'I'-T.\'l' B oa rd (3); Philomathean Lite rary Society; Foot ball T ea m (4 ); 1 t Li eutenant Co. "B " (4) . ~lotto: " \ Vol'lc a nd win." ES, thi s is " \Nest," o ld ''vVest,", g nera lly know n a roun d t hi s l' icinity . f A nn apo li a nd by h1 fe ll ow tud ent as a · o-oo cl fe ll ow." For. 1f 111 tr o ubl e, o r des1nn o- a favo r, th e heart of dea r old "Wes t" is Ye ry eas il y tou ched a nd yo u will ti ne! him kind h ea r ted a nd sy mp a th et ic. Study, we ll I sho uld say; a st udent. yes. a nd an energe ti c o ne. who in hi s acade mi c work does nothin g on th e s pur of the moment but who think in a goo d. logica l way. Hi s main bobbie a r e a 1n,ixture o f footba ll. che mi s try an d ne wspap er . \1\'e a ll agree th is is so me mi x in g, a nd if on e ca n tand th ese int erw ove n, th ere s ur e mu t b o methin o- wo rth wh ile in the ma n. In Chemi stry. " v\' est" is a dex-o ted tud ent, spe ndin g a lmost a mu ch t im e in t\1is s u bject a he does wit h one of the fair sex 1n nn a po li s. In bus in ess, we ll, to sa y th e least. he hold s a mon o po ly on th e Ba ltim ore New s in Annapoli s. a nd that pea ks fo r itse l f. "vVe t' ' i o me footb a ll player, a n d in ca e yo u don't I e li eve this look up h is rec o rd. \• Ve feel sure that he is bo und to ucceed in li fe a nd in thi s he ha s t he I es t wis hes of th e Cia of 1916. JOSEP H DENT HL'NGRRI:<'OBD,-"J>ent'' Ma r shall Hall , Md. L A'l' IN- SCJE N'I'IF I ''This 1 11a11 ·is freed f ro111 sen•ile ba'llds Of h ope t o rise, or f ear t o fa ll ; L ord of himself tho~tgh 11 0t of la-nds ; And hav ing not h ing, ·y e t hath all." Junior Rifl e Clu b ( 1); Hop Comm ittee (2, 3 ); Cia Sergea nt-a t-A rm s Footba ll T ea m ( 1); Co r po ra l Co. '· " ( 3); S e rgeant Tr um pte r ( 4 ); S eni or (2. 3 ); Ma rksman ( 3) ; Class Bas ket Ba ll T ea m ( I ); Al umni Ed ito r R AT-TAT B ase bal l T ea m ( 1) ; Treas ure r Ph il omat hea n Lite rary Society (2, 3); Cha irm an mittee (4); Jun e Ba ll Co mmittee (3). ~Jotto : "Dauciu g is l ove ly; rnor·e dan cing i (3); Cia Rifl e Club (3); Class Hop Co m- bli ss." ERE is a man of th e m in.ute. a nd hour, w ho ~ ak e us up_ in th ~ mo rnin g a nd p ut u to bed at n1 g ht. by h1 s l1t t le trum p t, wl 11 ch he ca rn es sw 1ng mg by hi id e; we all li ten fo r him with a n x iou s ea r a t fi 1 minut es o f the ho ur, a nd especia ll y ·e fo r mes ca ll. H e ca me to us f ro m Cha rl es Co unty, wh e re he ays t he pretti es t g ir ls in th e wor ld li1·e. a nd we are wo n t to be li e,·e him. vVe often wonder wh e re he fi nd s tim e to read th e num ero u le tte r he r ece ives f rom the fai r sex . Con s id e rin g thi , we dra w th e conclu io n that no one g ir l has him on the strin g. H e cla ims to be th e joc key of So uth e rn M a ryla nd. a nd hi s hon ors wo n a re num e rou s. we of ten see 111 th e big pa pers where "D ent" has eli tin g ui s hecl him se lf a long thi lin . "Dent'' a n d hi s Iri sh pal, " Gene," ha1• many good tim e together, but thei r fanJ ri te is a hunt in g trip. vV a ll thoug ht th a t " D ent 's" num e rou teps m da ncin o- wer e limi ted. but a t e1 ry hop it see ms that he ha a new one to a dd to hi s ·e coll ect ion, a nd so me ay t hat he i li ke a Ford- a lway reve rs ing a nd sh iftin g o-ear s. "Dent" a t one ti me dec ided that he wo uld like to be a g r ea t o-o if playe r. o las t year. with a few weeks' practi ce. he won th e lir t place in a go lf t ourn a men t. Th is bows hi s na tura l ab ilitv. Now. m.\• fri end . "Den t" is a goo d sco ut. Ju t look him over, a nd yo u, with th e rest of us. wi ll wi h him g reat . ucces a n d happi ne a lways . \1\f e have proof of thi s. a 48 49 �ARTHTH B I~EMER J ACQ-l"ES,- "Ja cqn es" S mithsburg , Md. L A'!' I '\"--SC II,l\" 'I'IFI C '·Tram/'fe Ill(' i11to tile dust a11d I will nsc again. Art Editor R.1T -T.1T (3l; Senior Rin e Clu b (3. 4 ) ; Seco nd Grade Certifica te (3 ) : Cotill on Club (3. 4); i\ [a rk sman (3): i\Ja ryland Int e rco ll egia te O rato ri ca l Co nt est (3) : Associate Editor Co/leqia ll (4 ); Clas N um era l Football (3. 4 ); R ese rve Football (3. 4); Vars ity Footba ll ( 4 ); :\Jandolin Club (4); Co lo r Se rgea n t Co mp a ny ''A" (4); E ng in ee ri noCorps (4); lass His tori a n (4); Ph il oka li a n Lit e rary Society (3, 4); Int er-Society Debating T ea m ( 4 ); Inte rco ll egiate Debati ng T eam (4). !\:lotto : "Co u nt t'.)' d e fe n se a!1'ainst the g-e n tl e r· sex." A CQ ES j o in ed th e Cadet Co rp in o ur Juni or yea r a n d imm ediat ely es tabli shed him se l f as a tru e St. John's ma n. .He ha s represe nt ed St. J o hn· in the i\I aryland Interco ll eg ia te Orato ri ca l Co nt es t and acq ui tted him el f in a man ner th at reAected r ea t cred it u pon th e Co ll ege. H is two o-rea t a mbiti o ns were : a n S. ) . C. and a pa ir of c heno ns. Th e latte r he is now wea rin g . Th e swee t train s o f mu ic float ino· fro m th e bal co ny o f th e cry m. ha1·e lure I thi yo un g ma n from th e eart hl y sphe r e of app li cation and ha rd wo rk into the heavenl y rea lms of fem inin e beauty a nd g race. vVhi le he i fo und frequently in the co mpany of the fairer sex . a our such still he. heart go o u t to him. for we fee l th e od ium of a bache lo r's ga rb was mad e for "Jacq ues'" in te re ts wh il e in vVas hin gto n Co unty ce nte r abo ut go l f. ten ni s a nd moto rin o·. This wo rthy yo un g ma n know s a ll abo u t tire tro uble f rom expe ri ence. fo r his a lm a _t n ig htl y ~:;xcurs ion s to the B lu e R idge summ e r reso rts wer e a lways ac co mpani ed by innum e rab le blo wout a nd punct ures. w hi ch we r e a lw ays a so urce of chag ri n to him se l f a nd a mu se men t to hi s fai r pas enge r . Hi s tho roug hn e s in t he pro ec uti on of hi s present m ilita ry d uti es leads us to be li e1 ·e tha t he des ires to j o in t he pe rso nn el o f th e co mmi ss ioned office r in th e U . S. A rmy. but hi di spos iti on is suc h th a t yo u ca n ne1·e r te ll wha t th e f utur e ho ld in to re for him. R.OBER'I' OTIS JOI\IES,- "Otis" Baltimor e, Md. L .I T I N-SC I EXT I FIC 'A ll th oughts, all t>assio11s. all del·ights, l/ '/ia tt'7'er s tirs this m o rtal fro/Ill'. All are but ministNs of lm•c. And feed his sacred /Ia iii e .., Class Tr eas urer (2. 3. 4 ); Cotill o n Clu b (2, 3. 4 ) : H op Co mmi ttee (3); Jun e B a ll Committee (3); Boardi ng Clu b (2. 3. 4 ); Bu sin ess Manage r . 11 T-T .1T (3; Class Football T ea m R (2) : .l'vi emo ra l (2); Ass is tan t M a nage r Footba ll Team (3) : Ma naae r Footba ll T ea m ( 4 ); Chairman Co mmittee on a ll ege Trad iti o ns (4); Fi rst Grade Certilica te ( 1): Seco nd Grade Cc rti lica te (3): Co rpo ra l Co. '' A" (2); Q ua rte rm aste r :;:ergea n t Co. "B" (li rs t te rm ) (3 ) ; Captai n Co. "B '' ( 4 ) ; .Juni or Rin e Clu b ( 1) ; eni o r R ifl e lu ll (2) ; Mark ma n ( l ) : S harps hoo t e C ollegia11 ( 4) r. (2): P hil o ka li a n S c ie ty; I(appa A lp ha: S. ) . C . .-\ . .'\.; E dit r - in -C hi e f Motto: "f~abo r· co nq ue r·s C \'e r·~· thing-." lJ\'CE the tim e when thi li g ht-haired. blu e-eye I. you th e nt e red the Preparatory chool. six yea rs ago. he has been o ne of th e mo t acti1·e membe r.s of h is cia . and ha s pro1·en him se lf to be a n a ll -a ro un d co ll ege ma n. His s tron ges t po in t i hi s lo1·e fo r th e fa ir er sex a nd th e Terps ichorean art. :\Te1·e r a hop passe by but th at Oti ca n be fo un d. e ith e r in the parlor of some .\nnapolis z. drea m- waltmaide n where th e lo,·e- lig ht burn s bri g h t or swayin a to th e sweet strain s of some But with a ll hi s lo1·e for soc ia l life. he does not a ll ow it to interfere w;th hi sc ho lastic 1\'o r k ; for his name is alway found at or nea r the top o f th e Honor Roll. Oti s has ne1 r go ne ou t for a ny ath leti c tea ms. owing to parenta l objectio n. bu t ll'e ·e he li e1 that if g i1·en a c han ce he wou ld ma ke a '·h o rse" as fu ll back. H e wa ma nager of the ·e Foo tball team t hi s yea r. a nd for hi ple nd id work in thi s office was awa rded an S. J. C. A. \\ 'hate1·er wa lk of life he pursues. he will make a succe s. 5l �'l'lfOMAS WNrJUl\" S .L IGON Ellicott Ci ty, Md. L A'I' I N- S CII·:=" 'I'I FIC "H e lm•es th.e Ladies." Co r po ra l Co. "A " (s co nd tertn ) ( 3 ); R Nr - T AT B oa rd (3); Juni o r RiA e C lub ( !, 2, 3); Fi r t L ie utena nt B a tta li on Quarte rm aste r ( 4); P . E. K . ~lotto: "Fat<Jne t·' s Hfe a.nd a ple ntr of eats." B OVE yo u wi ll beho ld th e ma nly co untena nce of Tho m a . who h a il fr om th e far a nd dista n t w ild of H owa rd Cou nty . T o mmy ca m e to us in hi s youth a nd as innocent as a babe. H e ente red th e seco nd pre p. a nd whi le in th e p rep. schoo l ma d e q uite a nam e fo r him elf a a tud ent. Tomm y wa s n eve r a n a thl ete. but m ade up fo r thi s in t he acade mi c work. D u r in g hi s fi rs t three yea rs at Co ll ege hi s na m e wa s \·e ry se ldo m a bse nt fro m th e hon o r r o ll. T o mm y a lso too k q ui te a part in Co ll ege ac ti vit ie . s uch as ta nt a li zin g th e poor F res hm en, but to T o mm y' reg ret he happe n ed to be absent from Co ll ege when seve ntee n of the op ho mo re cia s we re '·s hipped" for h az in g, a nd n o do ubt if he h a d been pre en t · t hat nig ht h e wo ul d have ra ised th e numb e1 to e ig htee n . But a ye t w e have no t to uched u pon th e soc ia l sid e o f Th om a . H e is so me fu s e r. atten ds a o f hi s life toll tag. the hops. a n d is n eve r seen with o ut a pa rtn e r . it bein g on e of th e crim es of In T o mm y's Sopho mo re year he had a g r eat fa ili ng fo r go in g to B a ltim o re whe ne \·e r he co uld. O n ce he wen t a nd the Faculty fo un d it o u t. so Th om as rece ived t wenty ho urs' ex tra dri ll f o r doi ng th e nobl e deed. but ''suc h is li fe," as To mm y says. lso. we noti ce he did not g o q uite as o ft e n as he d id hefore. • Th e re is a noth e r t hing Tommy loves to do. a nd th a t is to get a m ao-az in e with a o-oo d love to ry in it a nd to it down a n d read fo r eve r. Lay ing a ll foo lin g a id e, we fi nd in T o mmy a fe ll ow ha rd to beat. T o mm y i liked by e \·e ryo m ay do. ne w ho kn ow him , a n d we a ll w ish him th e best o f s ucc e s in li fe, wh ateve r he GABRTEJ~ 'l' HORN'l'ON ~fA GKENZJB,-"Ma e," "Scot," 12 5 W . Franklin St., Hager s town , Md. "~'lajot·" S CI£N'i'JFIC "Do or die." eco nd G rade Cert ifica te (2) : Go ld tars-Co n d uct (3, 4 ) ; en ior RiA e C lu b (2. 3, 4 ); M a rk man (2); Sh a rps hooter ( 3 ) : R A'I:-T AT B oa rd (3): Fi rs t Li euten a n t Co. "A'' (3 ); Ca det Majo r ( 4 ) : Bus in es M a nage r Co llcg ia11 ( 4 ) ; Cha irman Board in g C lub ( 4 ); A ss i ta n t Co mma n da n t ( 4 ) : P hil oka li a n Lit era ry Soc iety (2. 3. 4 ); s is ta nt Libr a ri a n ( 4 ); Studen t Sen a te (4 ); Cot ill on C lu b (3. 4 ). ~fotto: "IOtC" ~ "A conuniss ion iJt t he •·egul:u· a t·m y and t h e g; ,.l ba ck hom e ." jo;"'d o ;, oo c Sophom.,·o ""· fco.h h om ' ojoom oo <h e Rod oo, '"' imm edi a te ly mad e a na me for him se lf by r es pondin g to D r. Fe ll 's fi r t in qu iry a to hi s na m e. w ith " M r . ·Mackenzie. ir." In Coll ege a th leti cs Mac kenzie has taken a s ma ll pa rt. but we have n eve r fai led to fi nd him a m ong th e fa ithfu l roo te rs and th e loya l suppo rte rs of eve ry Co ll ege tea m. In t he milita ry departm ent. howeve r, h e has bee n mos t a ctiv e. as is m a nife ted by his appo in tm en t to th e hi g hest pos ition of tru t a nd hon o r in th e cadet co r ps. L ast yea r · R AT-T.\T ra ted "Mac" as a r eg ul a r kill e r. a nd now we fee l q uit e co n fi d en t t ha t " the g irl ba ck ho m e' ' ha s res po nd ed to hi . ap pea l, a nd we not ice that he i a lways t he fi rs t ma n to leave t he camp u wh en a ny leave i g ra nt ed. Ha s th e ' ·Spo n or" of th e Bat tal ion a ny thin g to do wi th th is? But wit h a ll hi s fa u lts. " M ac" is sti ll a goo d f e ll ow. a n d w e fee l s ure tha t hi perseve ra nce a n d en e rgy wi ll place him in th e ra nk of co mmi s ion ed o ffi ce r. Now jus t o n e hort pee p into " M ac' " life in Hage r tow n. F ro m pr ese nt pro pect we fee l safe in pred ictin g th a t j ust as soo n as he has ohta i11 ed th a t Co\·eted co mmi ssio n . h e wi ll en ter u po n a m at rim on ia l a d\·en tur e that wi ll m ake the poet ic M il e Sta ndi s h I lus h wit h hame so fa r as do m es ti c happi n es IS co n ce rn ed . 53 �B.H~-AJ\1 .F H A XJ(LJ.l\" J~J_,L'J'\'01Ji; H, J H.,-" Ho p" Ports mou t h , Va . S CI ENTJFJC "B e goo d , and lei hi111 w h o will be clc"i.'cr." J uni o r Rifl e C lu b (1 ) : C lass Sec re ta ry (2); Pre icl nt Juni o r RiOe C lu b (2): DrumMajor Co r po ra l (2); R .1T-1'.1T Boa rd (3); Drum-Major ergea n t (3); Ass ista nt i\ lanager Ba. ket Ba ll (3) : Drum- i\l ajo r L ieu ten a nt (4); Bas ket Ba ll (4); P hil oma th an Literary S oc iety ; J(appa r\ lpha F rate rni ty. ~\l anager 1\totto: " Ch e mi st r·y and 'chi ck e ns' fo J ve J ·e ·." 0, ''Hop'' i n ot a s se rio us as l1i · looks imp ress yo u. If a nyt hin g . a tril"l e the oppos it to him leave ite, fo r i .f th ere is a ny way poss ible to m ake fu n o r a joke out of a ph ra e. Remini scc ncin g 01·er o u1· pas t fo ur yea rs. we lir t reca ll '' 1-Jop' " p ro min ence. bu rs ting f o rth as a bug le r of no te. in th e o ld ( ne1·er- to- be-fo rgo ttcn ) clays in Hum ph rey H a , from w g o ma ny Ya ri ous llneig hbo rinh rercha rd .a good rec ruitin g exped iti on has taken pla ce late a t ni ght to "Hop's'' entim enta l na ture see ms to g row on h im with the years. a n d i f it in c reases as fast in th e fut ur e as in th e pas t, we Fe I t ha t he wi ll he th fi rst of us to be a ''Bened ict. ' ' In hi li 1·st yea r a t C liege th ere was n't th e li o-ht est in c li nation s hown th a t ll'ay. but in ce he ha s see m ed to in c rea se a n d now such s ubjects a re pa wo rds with him . \\ ' e und e rsta n d that he has a ke en se n se f o r Spa ni sh b a utr . L ay ing a s id e the ricli cul o u . we ex 1 ec t so me clay to hea r of "Hop" el i co 1 rin g o m ·e t hi ng n e w in che mi stry o r a "big' ' man in tfl at fie ld. Fo r he has s pen t a go cl pa rt of hi . co ll ege co ur e a lo ng thi s lin e a nd has p roven hi m se lf q uit e e fficie n t. One of th e mo t ad mirab le thin g s whi ch may be sa id of "Hop" is th e goo d s pi rit a nd ha rd work he !lit in a t a sk aft er o nce underta ki ng it. thu s ac hi e1·in g th e bes t re ults. \ V ith thi s ·'n eve r- q ui tt in g" s p iri t a n d d ete rminati on. we loo k fo rward to th e cl ay ll'h en "Ho p'' will be so me body so m ew he re. a nd po ibl y so meon e lse wi ll possess him. JA COB 1\f"EYJ<; H. PEAH CE,-".Ta k e," "Hal'l'y ] (" Monkton , !vid . S CI EN TJFJ C " Co fe tch l o 111 e a J> inl of w ine. An d fill ·it in a s ih •l' r la ss·ie ; Th at I 111 ay d n:n l< bef ore I go A seJ"< icl' l o Jl l\' bonnie lass-ir. " S eni o r RiA e C lub ( I. 2, 3. 4 ) : Co till o n C lub (2. 3. 4 ) ; .H a n clo lin Club ( I. 2. 3. 4 ) : R.IT-T.IT B oa rd (3); S e rgea nt o. "B" (3); Li eut en a n t Co. ''A'' ( 4 ) ; R ese ne Football ( 1. 2. 3. 4 ); R ese n ·e Base ba ll (1 . 2. 3. 4 ) ; S ec reta ry C las ( 4 ); Hop Co mmit tee (2, 4 ); M a r ksman (2); Sha r ps hoote r (3); P hil ka li a n Lite rary S oc iety; P. E. K. I ]\·(otto : "A r·my life fo 1 m e." · ·t~n. EHO L D . ge ntl e reade r. ".l a ke. '' a p rod uct o f th e hi ll of l\fon k .. Ba ltim o r e Co unty. a n d a f usse r oF g rea t r eno wn . In f ac t. ' f 1t we re n ot Fo r "Ja ke. ' we kn ow no t wher e th e socia l tandin g of o ur cla ss wo ul d be. L as t yea r "J ake' ' r ece i ve d a n injury on th e hea d w hi le playin g foo tb a ll a nd had to r etire fr o m th e ga m e fo r th e re ma i ncl e r of th e seaso n. H e came bac k to choo' t hi s yea r w ith a d ete rmin a t io n to w in hi s . J. C .. but. un fortun a tely. a ki ck in th e head bro ug ht bac k hi s o ld injury . a nd th e coac h m a de him qu it t he g-a me for fear that a noth e r s imil a r inj u ry mi a ht prove f:1 tal. Thi ca u eel "J a ke" to beco m e dow nh ea rted. fo r he th o ug ht hi s cha nce fo r an S . J. C. h a d l'a ni s hed . H o w ever, t he At hl eti c Assoc ia ti on. mu ch to ' Jake ' .. surpri e. awa rd ed hi m a n S. J. C. A. A. fo r hi ga m e try a n d . pir it, a nd now he i the happ iest ma n in Co ll ege. H av in g h is on e g reat objec t at i Freel. 'J ake" has found a noth er one to tri ve f o r. That is to ent er th e Ar my. a milit a ry m an he has n o equ a l. alt ho ug h he has on e cu te litt le co mm a n d a ll hi s o wn . H er e it is-UNS T ACK AHMS. Hi s sc hed ul e be in g li g h t th is yea r. ".la ke'' has beco me a ma n o f a nd he ca n be fo und u til izin g hi s s pare t im e p layi ng B ri dge. lei ~ur Lea1·in g a ll j es tin g a s id e. ".l a ke" is a n a ll -a ro un d g ood fe ll ow . be lo ,·ed by a ll wh o kn o 11· him . e lo ws. a nd we a ll w is h him th e g rea tes t o f succ e s in li fe. no matte r w ha t co urs_ he fo l- 55 �HAURY JOSEPH SELBY,- "Bon ey" Ivory, Md. L AT IN-SC JF. NTIFJ C " f/ 'eCWJ' With t oil, { haste 11/ l! t o Ill _\ ' bed , T he dear rr pose f or w ·i·n d w it h st·11dy tired .'' Clas Pres id ent ( 1, 2); Chairman J un e Ball Committee (3 ; Bu s in e s Manager JlJ1T-T.1T (3) ; Committee o n Colleg e Traditi o ns ( 4) ; Boarding Clu b ( 4 ) ; F oo tbal l Team ( I , 2. 3, 4 ) ; aptain of F oo tball T ea m (3); Bas ke t Ball T ea m (2, 3. 4 ); V ice- Pre ident Ath leti c ss cia ti o n (3); Pres id ent Ath leti c Assoc iation ( 4); Star :Mon ogra m (I ) ; Hop Co mmitt ee (4 ); Cotill o n Club (3. 4); Co rp o ral Co. "B" ( 2); First Li e ut ena nt Co. "B " ( 3 ) : Cap ta in Co. "A" ; Seni o r RiA e Club ( 1, 2. 3. 4 ); Marksman (2 ) ; Kappa A lpha Fraternity. ~lotto: "Do Jnuch, a nd as k fo r· li ttle." FTER ix years of patie nt a nd str enu o us labor. o ld St. J o hn 's ha con ve rt ed thi co untry la d into a ty pi ca l a ll - ro un d coll ege ma n. As a tuclent, he i stea dy and easy go in g , a nd often when one see him restin g peace full y on hi s "d o wny cou ch'' (tea rin g it off. a he ca ll s it ) t hey co uld ha rdl y believe him to be the sa me man who th e month befo re hit th e honor roll. " In footba ll a nd baske t ba li old ·'Bon ey" is a hor se. For four yea rs he has p layed tac kl e on t he footba ll tea m. a nd in thi tim e ha s wo n th e di stin ct ion of be in g th e best ta ckl e th a t St. John' s eve r produ ced. H e a lso has th e hon o r o f ha1·in g cap tain ed th e tea m th at rol led up a bi g score aga in st H o pk in s a nd of havi ng been e lected twi ce a s a membe r of th e A ll -Ma ry la nd T eam . The " H o ps" also ho ld g rea t charm fo r thi s yo uth . and he ne1 r mi sses a chan ce to ·e "trip the light fant as ti c toe." Selby ta kes a li ve ly int e res t in all class and co ll ege acti1·iti es. a nd few importa nt co mmittee have bee n form ed whi ch hav e not in clu ciecl him . Our es tee med fri end ha s d es ig n on a medi ca l ca r ee r. a nd o ur parting wi sh to him is that h i succe a nd popu larity of St. John ' may fo ll o w him throug h lif e. WILLIA~l F R ANl{ STROMRYF. H,-"Bill " S c iE N'l'H'JC " S ·JJJ ·ile a.11d the ~vorld swiles w ith yo u ; fl ·'ee p and J'O'It weep alon e." S enior R iAe Clu b (2. 3. 4 ) ; Football T ea m (3, 4 ) ; R AT-T AT B a rd (3 ): Ath let ic Editor of Co llegian (4 ); Qua rte rma te r-Se rgeant Co. "A" ( 4); K a ppa A lph a Frate rnity. Motto: "Sa~· all you ca n and as fast as p oss ible." HE a bo1·e i a very Aa tte rin g lik en e of Ve rnon Castl e' onl y ri val. A lth o ug h of a Ye ry mod e t ( ?) tempe ram en t, " Bi ll" has ofte n had to ad mit th a t th ere is no one a round he re who is in hi s class as a d a nce r. vVhil e. of co ur se, "Bi ll" is qu ite a fa vorite with a ll fe minin e kind. th e re is eve n · r eason to I eli eve th a t th e re i a li tt le g irl clown in Kew Orlean s who co me fi r .-t 111 hi s thotwhts. Don't ma ke the mi s take of thinkin g that he is nl y a '' ladi es' ma n,' ' ho weve r. E1·e rybocly kn ows ho w he plays foo tb a ll. H e is in de cl a ''fight e r from th e hea rt," a nd we ha te to think w hat o ur tea m would have bee n with o ut him Ia t ,-ea r. \1\' hi le "Bi ll " ha s neve r as pired to lea rn mo re th an th e men wh o w~·ote t he tex t- books. he ha a lway maint a in ed a sa fe ma rg in above 3.00. Th e re wa a tim e when he howecl s ig n of want in g to I eco me a math . hark, hut calc ulu s. und e r "Ducky. " cur ed him in hi s Juni or yea r. ·' Bi ll 's" ge ne ros ity and weakne ss for bu y in g " F a tima s '' mak e him a genuin e bl es in g to eni or Aoor. H e has a likab le el i po iti o n. whi c h. co upl ed with a kind hea rt a nd a co ntao-ious laug h. has won g rea t popularity fo r him. bot h at St. John' s a nd in nnapo li s. H e enters into th e pirit of eve ry phase of co ll ege life. with the sa me clas h that cha rac te ri zed hi s foo tb a ll play in g , a nd may we ll be ca ll ed a tru e St. John' ma n. Hi s work in th e military depa rtm ent has been except iona ll y rroocl . a n d it is onl y beca use he d id not co me to us f rom P o ll y until lat e in th e Sophomore yea r th at he did not obta in a co mmi ss ion in th e batta li on thi s yea r. " Bi ll" has exp res eel th e intenti on of ent e rin g th e Arm y afte r g ra duation. a nd if hi s work at t. Iohn · is a ny c rit e ri o n. he will ur ely make goo d a a!l o ffi cer. 56 57 �A. \\'BI G HT W lLLJ AM ,-"S adi e " P rin ce F r e d e r ic k , lVI d . SctEXTIF ic .. r 'will' Ita<•(! Ill.)' JJcg ree." R AT-T AT Boa rd (3); Co r po ra l Co. '·B '' (4); en io r R iAe luh (2. 3. 4. 5 ); C lass F ootba ll T ea m (2) : C lass Ba ket Ba ll T ea m (2) ; Ord nan ce e rgea nt taff (5) : Fi rst Li eu tenan t r cln a nce D e pa r tm en t S taff (5); Dip loma St. J oh n 's P repa rato ry Sc hoo l ( 4 ); Phi lom athea n Literary oc iety. l\totto: "B e a model. " H I S spec imen ha il s fr o m th e wi ld s of Ca h ·e rt Co un ty. whi ch is loca ted om ew h er e in th e ·o u the rn par t of lll a ry la nd . He gets hi ca ta log ues of th e la test pa tte rn s of wom en' s ha t . hose. dresses. a n d so fo r th. regul a r ly e1 ry wee k. and is t he bes t autho r ity in the lates t sty les. ·e ·· sad ie '' was a lion in ··A nn a poli oc iety·· last yea r an d th e ea rl y pa rt of t hi yea r. bu t ha se tt led clo wn rece nt ly fo r so me reaso n. w h ich we d o n ot kn o w. Th e re m ust be so m e pa r ty in Ca il·e rt Cou nty. fo r he is ca lling u p a g rea t d ea l ove r t he te leph o ne. " a cl ie ·· h as cl on e well in hi s wo rk, bu t had a litt le ha rd lu ck, a n d con sequen tly d id n ot q u ite mak e it Ia t yea r. He is li k ed a nd ta kes a n ac ti ve pa rt in Co llege act iviti es. such as th e Y . M. C. A. ( ') a n d P hil o ma t hea n S oc iety. H e is a lso a m em be r of th e Sta ff th is yea r, a n d occas ion al ly can he seen ca r ry in g a a be r a ro un d on th e d r ill fi eld . H e has n eve r en gage d in a th letics. no t thro ug h un wi llin g n ess. bu t ha not th e phys ica l a bility. B u t "' S a d ie" is do in g go od wo rk thi s yea r a nd has a lr ea dy ta ken a n a cl,·a n cecl co u r se in Ma gaz in eo logy. an d is ex p ctecl to g rad u at e w ith hi g h h on o r soon . ·H e ex pec t s to fi n i h hi s wo rk by th e end o f th e fi r t te rm thi s yea r. a nd we a ll w ish h im luck in thi s a im . J-{ e h as no t qui te cle cicl ecl w ha t h e is go in g to do yet . b ut he is thinkin g of ge ttin g ma rried soo n afte r lea 1 g her e a n d livin g on hi s o r he r in com e. I do n o t kn ow w h ich. •in H er e is w ishin g h im lu ck in whateve r fie ld o f act ivity h e m ay en te r . H ARR.Y J AJ\rES ANDR.E W ,- "Fats " B a ltimore, Md . L A'l'I N-SCtf:N'I'I F.I C " L et the wo rld slid e." F oo tba ll T ea m (- . 3, 4 ); Ba ket B a ll T ea m (2. 3. 4 ) : Ju n io r RiA e C lub ( 2. 3) : R.1T-T .1T Boa r d ( 3 ) ; Co rpo r a l Ba n d ( 2 ) ; e rgeant Ba nd ( 3. 4 ); e rgea nt-a t-A rm s ( I ); Y icePres icl en t of Cia ( 4 ) ; Boardi ng C lub ( 4); P hil o ma th ean L it e ra ry Society. l\l otto : "Be e ve r g e ntle and kind." : E fi rst hea rd of " Fats '' in th e Prep. S choo l. in whi ch h e ser ved tw o yea rs. ent erin g t he Co llege 111 t he fa ll o f 1912. Th ese t wo y ea r s m a d e a cl ectcl ecl cha nge tn .. F a t s," fo r if on e loo ked at h im n o w th ey m ig h t wond e r how h e cl e ri ,·ecl uch a n ickn a m e. Bu t i f t hey co uld on ly h a 1 een h im wh en he ent e red th e P rep. Schoo l t he p rob lem ·e wo ul d be ea il y so lved . 'vVe hea r m ost of '·Fats' ' fr om th e a thl eti c ta n clp o in t. A s a footb a ll pl aye r hi s a bili ty is un qu es t ion a ble, a n d h e was cho en a s th e bes t en d in t he S ta te fo r two co n secuti ve yea r . a n d wo u ld u ndo u bt edl y ha ve been ch ose n thi s yea r h ad it n ot bee n fo r a n injury w hi ch he rece ived in t he e a rl y pa r t o f th e se a •on a n d wh ich ke pt h im out o f th e g a m e fo r th e res t o f th e ye a r. A a I as ket ba ll playe r he ha s pr o1 ·ecl to be on e o f t he best rru a rcl s th a t S t. J o hn 's ha s e1 r had . H e was elect ed ca pta in o f t he Q uin t t h is win te r . ·e A lth o ug h ·'Fa t " is no s h inin g s ta t· in hi s sc holas tic wo rk he a lways m an ages to k eep o ff th e B lack Li st in o rd e r to play ath leti cs. a n d we ha ve rea on to be lieve th a t h e co ul d do a g r at d ea l bette r if it we re n ot f o r hi s " I -sh oul cl-wo rry' ' way. ''Fa ts." a f te r se n ·ing t wo yea rs in t he co m1 a ni es. cl ecicl ecl th at he wou ld lik e to be a m u. icia n an d j oin ed th e ba n d. a n d we a ll th in k t ha t h is de sir e has I en f ul fi ll ed. 'v\l heth e r h e play o r no t a t ba n d practi c is do ubt f ul. bu t he ur ely ca n wor ry u s in the "D o r m s.' · H is ch ee rf u ln ess. h is g en e ros ity, hi s un fa ilin g g ood n at ur e a n d hi s wi llin g n ess to obli rre m akes him on e o f th e m os t po pular m en in Co llege. H e ha ou r best w ishes for succes in a ft e r li fe. 5 59 �H A RR Y H L' BE RT B O W'F. J 'tS, -"He iu e " Fre d e ri c k , Mel. Sci£NTJFJc "The 111 ercv that is war111 and true !1/ust le nd a. help-iug lwud. r:or th ose who talk . 1•et fa il to do, But bnild u.pou the sand ." Juni o r Ri Ae C luh ( I. 2); Se ni o r RiA e Club (3, 4); Co r po ra l Band (2): F irst Sergea nt Band (3 . 4 ); Footba ll T ea m (3. 4); B a ket B a ll q uad (3, 4 ); Marl<. man (2. 3); RIT- T AT Boa rd (3); June Ba ll Co mmittee (3); M usica l C lu b (1) . ~lo tto : "'V01·k, pl ay a nd li\•e m a n1 ,y." EHO LD ! we ha1·e before us " H ein e," the onl y one of hi s kind . T o look at him you would think he is fie rce, but no . he i ve ry ta m e. " H ein e'' i a g reat be lieve r of Mod ern Lan g uages a nd ha s abo ut ( ?) passed off a ll th e Ge rm an a n d F rench that co u ld be taug ht at St. John' s. 'v\le beli e ve th e key to " Hein e 's br oadened la ng uage co ur e i th e goo d ciga rs th e Do ctor sm okes. "Heine.'' at the begin nin g of hi Juni o r yea r, uclcl enl y beca me a g rea t ath lete. a n d was on e of o ur n ob le footba ll he roes clurin o- that yea r an d aga in thi s season . He is a l o so me ba ket ba ll playe r. a nd al th o u ()'h not quit e a regul a r, h e i one g reat ly feared by "seco nd tea m" oppon en ts. Hi s 1 ice som ehow or other ha s cha nged d uring the last two yea r . a nd we ha1·e co m e ·o to th e con clu ion th a t go lf wa s the cau se of it, beca u e o f hi s co ntinuou s ye llin g of th e wo rd "fo r e" while indul gi ng in the " cl a nge r o u " g ame. ;<H e in e'' during hi s fi rst three yea rs a t Coll ege was ve r y loud in hi s prai e for hi ho m e town. but s in ce m a kin g hi s d eb ut into B a ltimore ociety, w hil on a foo tball trip , h a ch anged hi pra ise int o a whi s per. Be ides thi s, " H ein e' ' is on e o f th e m o t pop ul a r boys at Co ll ege. H e po ess s a good heart a nd is a lway w il lin g to lend a helping ha nd . H is a m unt of "w it" is a bu n da nt and is a lway on ha n d to be d ea lt o ut acco rdin g ly . JA ~'fF.S HAMIL 'l'O X BBO,V N BRAS I-fE ARS,Annapo li s , Mel. "Jirnmr, " "Du ck y" L AT J N -S CJ EN 'I'JFJ C ''Sleep ·is a pleasa.· t thing, belove d fro nt Po le t o po le. " n Mark sman (2): Juni o r RiA e C lub ( 1. 2. 3. 4 ); R AT-T AT B oa rd (3); Philomath ea n Lit er ary Society; Band (3. 4 ) : Clea n lee 1 ; Phi Sigma l appa. ·e ~lo tto: 60 "D o the lult'd thin g ftr·s t (?) ." IM l\I(Y h ai l from t hat u hur b o f nn apo li s bette r kn ow n a Ea tp o r t. H e j o in ed us in th e Prep. Sc hool a nd has pu rs ued th e eve n tenor of hi ways eve r s in ce. "Jimmy'' ha n e ve r been w ha t yo u wou ld ca ll a hinin g lig ht in th e m ilita ry lin e until thi s yea r. w hen he un dertook to murd e r th e bas drum a nd i hea r d above a ll th e ot her in trument s. H e i also n oted fo r hi s olo work, es pecia ll y on w in dy clays. with ''Ba n dy" as hi a s i la nt on th e other end of th e dr um . H e took a co ur se o f f r esh a ir a nd Magaz in eo logy for three yea r s. a nd th en ettl ecl clow n to s how "J ack" a n d th e Facu lty th at he co uld tucl y a nd has astoni shed eve r ybo dy hy hi 1 rof·iciency in Ge rm a n . ''Jimm y" i a lso ve ry fo nd of L at in a n I wo uld ra th e r ( ?) g-o to Latin lll th an a ny oth e r class . In at h let ics " Jimm y" has s how n up well in foot ! a ll a nd golf. espec ia lly in go lf. winnin g ·y t he con a lat ion pri ze in the to urnament Ia t yea r a n d s how in g g rea t skil l o n the Na 1 links. Over loo kin g the e few rem a r ks. " Jimmy" is on e of th e best f ell ows in co ll ege a n d i lik ed b1· eve r von e a n d b as shown us a ll what tru e f ri end ship is. H e has a lso s how n u s what kind o( tuff he is made of by hi s hard tucl yin g a nd th e determination to g rad uate w ith hi s cia . \ 11/e a re sure that h e w il l s uccee d in whatever h e und e rtakes. and that so m e day he w il l be one of th e prominent m en of Mary land and a c red it to th e clas o f ' 16. \i\ ' e w is h in w ha tev er path of life he ma y choo e. hi m th e best succ 61 �LEA ALYlN DARJ_,EY,- "Pat," "Mi c k ey," " lt·is h" Balt imo re , Md. SCIE NTIFIC " i f yo u wo uld learn th e ~ ·alue of 111011ey, Co a11d I rv to borrow s o 111 e. For he //l(t/ goes a-borrowi11g Goes a-sorrowiug. Senio r RiA e C lub (2. 3. 4 ); Footbal l (2. 3. 4 ) ; Golf C lub (3. 4 ) ; e rgea nt Co. "B" (2); R.\T -T .\T Board (.3); Phil okal ia n Lite ra ry oc i ty; 1. E . 1 (.; Sergeant-a t- /\rrn s. J\fotto: •'Eat, :s m.o ke a nd be m e •... ~· . " N TIVE of Baltimore. who ha s been w ith u as a me mbe r of the C lass s in ce h1; Soph o mo re y ea r. After co min g. ba ck to sc ho o l thi s fal l, "Pa t " \\' ent o ut fo r foo tb a ll. as he ha s bee n d o in g in th e two pre \·ious yea r s. By s howin g up so wel l las t yea r in the Hopkin -St. j ohn 's ga m e. "l'vfi ckey '' had a lm ost won a place on th e team, a nd by hi s hard work a n d s ti ckin g he did win a place thi s yea r ; also a l;i .,. . J. C. and watc h fob. with a ni ce littl e go ld fo o tba ll ha ng in g to it. Somethin g that h e is \·e ry proud of. we f ee l sure. But. ca stin g footba ll as ide, a he played hi s Ia t ga me on Thanksgi\·in g Day for St. J o hn 's. "Pat'' h as e\·e r a l other pas tim e ga mes. One is playin g pinochl e a nd br idge with hi s o ld pa ls. " j imm y" Bras hears. "Ba nd y" Fi e I I , '·H ein e" Bowers and " j asper'' T . Pearce. H e decid ed not to go in th e co mpan y th is year for seve ral r easo n s. nam ely - - -. S o he a n d "B and y '' ente red th e mu s ica l staff. hoth play in g a ltos. Outs ide of that. ":tvii ckey ' ' is a lways tellin g us a bout the fair ones in Ba ltim o re and how he kid th e g irl s o \·e r th e ph o n e abo ut hi s goo d look . "Pat" tra in ed hard durin g footba ll seaso n. but. wh en ·it wa s over. th en it wa that S eni o r ha ll s tarted su pp ly in g him with Lo rd C h es te r fie ld s. but, n e \·e rth eless ·'Pat'' is a good student , stayin g in five ni g-ht s stud yin g Ge rm a n . O n e thin g " Pat" love to do is to make b reak fa s t fo rm at ion e\·e r y mo rnin g. and thi s he ge n era ll y does ( ?) . ·'Pa t '' w ill get hi s pi ece of s heepsk in thi s year__a nd then en ter H o pkin s Med ical S chool next fa ll. \Ale a ll ce rta inl y wi sh th e fut ur e doctor the bes t of success . GEORGE DA\"IDSO;\' ,-"Da,-., ·" t. Ma r garets, Annapo li s , Md . SCIE NT IFI C " Beitel· tlia11 th e best . j ollier thou the rest." C:H111 u Edito r, R A'I'-TAT Boa rd (3); Juni o r Rifl e C lu b ( 1, 2) ; Mark sm a n (2); Corpora l Co. "A" ( 4 ) ; Phi S ig m a K appa Fraternit y. · J\1otto: "To g •·adnate l'•·o n1 \\'est P o in t ." E n O\\.' ha \'e be for e u s "Davy ." wh o ha been with us sin ce th e Prep. clas s . . a nd who . all will agree is o ne of the bes t al l- ro un d fe ll ows in th e 1916 Class. "Davy" hai ls f •·o m ju st o u t id e of ·· rab town.' ' a place ca ll ed S t .. ~ ra rga r e t s. but '·Da\·y' ' is by n o m ea n s a " sa int ." If a ll the f ell o w in th at n eig hbo rh ood a re like him. then it n eed anoth e r nam e. t fi rst he did not a tt end m a ny of th e dan ce . but tim e always brings its c ha nges. and like wi e it has wrought a chan ge in him. a nd no w he attend s e\·e ry dance. He h a ure go tte n to be o m e '' fu sse r ." About 12 o'c lock noo n you ca n ee '·Davy'' hikin g for Prin ce George Street. Of co ur se we do n ot pretend to know th e na tur e o f tho se daily \·is its. H owe \·e r. ·'there ' a reaso n." "Da\·y" has n ot as yet co m e o ut for at hl e ti cs . but h has made th i up in hi s cholast ic work. German i o ne of hi s st ronghold s. a nd th ere is o m e ta lk of him succeeding " D oc" ho rtl y. H e ha li nal ly decided to go to \\'est Po in t. a nd we f ee l ure th a t he wi ll mak e o·ood. U n cle Sam need s such men as ;<D a \-y'' on hi s o ffi c rs ' li st. Jn whatever bran ch of wo rk "]) ;wy" fi n a ll y end s up. we are s ure h wil l be at th e hea d of th e row . a nd so th e Cia so [ 1916 wi s hes him the \·er y bes t of ucces 63 �DU ~Ll~ Y Y OO l: B.'J' I~ ~AY DO W NS,- "D u n levy" Ann a po lis, Mel. S CI I·:N TIFI C ".A ! en of few zc,ords are lrn e 111 1!11." Juni o r Ril1 e Club ( I ); Se ni o r I iA e Club (2, 3. 4 ) ; Co till o n Club (3. 4 ) ; T enni s T ea m ( I, 2, 3, 4 ); Ca pta in T enni s T ea m ( 2. 3. 4 ): Co rpo r a l Co. ·' ., (li rst te rm ) (3); Se rgeant Co. "A" (seco nd te rm ) (3); R.IT-T A'r B oard ( 3); Se rgeant Maj o r (4 ) . '''lotto: "L ive and l et live." ELL. ha il ·t o '·] unl e1·y,'' who co mes fr om old " Crabto wn ," a nd th e secti on kn o wn as · Mmr ay Hill. . T o see him d urin g th e winte r mo nth one wo ul d think h im ba h ful a nd wond er if a ny id ea of the f minine spec ies el' e r ent e red hi s head . B u t. o n th e oth e r ha nd. to see him in th e sprin g. umm e r a nd f a JJ , all th th o ug ht s of wint e r vani sh. he a fu sse r d urin g th e latte r ea ons? O h. m y. ye I Got a ll th e pi e a nd no one e lse has a sho w. \tVhen a keel hi r ea so n for bein g so d urin g th e wint e r. he info rm ed us th a t it int erf errecl with hi s wo rk. a nd we al l fee l pro ud o f him fo r thi s. S in ce bein g a t St. J o hn 's he has cl on e mu c h to eleva te tenni a nd ca use mo r e stud ent s to ta ke inte r es t in it. H e works fa ith f ull y eve ry s prin rr. see in g th a t th e co urt a re weJJ kept a nd no t injur ed by tud ent wh o ha 1 no inte res t. Hi s ab ility as a tenni playe r ·e may be seen f ro m hi abo ,·e reco rd . Capta in f o r three ucces i1·e yea r s in t he sam e s po rt, so methin g. pe rh a ps, no one else l1 as e1 r eq ualed . a nd som ethi ng o f wh ich to fee l pr oud. ·e In hi s sc hol a ti c work he th in ks twi ce be fo re makin g a mo1·e. whi ch is a 1 ·ery good principl e to fo JJ ow. H e ma y be a li t tl e low , but he's s ur e. a nd t he latte r is what we mu st ·ious yea rs. con ici e r abo ve e ve ry thin g else. ' 'D unlevy'' is workin g ha rd thi s yea r . a s in pre1 to ge t nea rer to th e cove ted hee pskin. W e a ll ag a in wi sh him s uccess. In th e clo in g few word s we mi o-ht try to um up ''Dunl evy" in sayin g he's one o f th e mo t clea n-cut an d a lla ro un d good fellows tha t St . John 's has eve r had. V/ e wi sh yo u succes, "Dnnl e q •,'' fo r t he rest of your li fe. JOH N IRVlN Hl~IS E, - "I r v" Balti mo r e, Mel. S c l f.N TIFI C '·How happy is he born and to ugh! //'h ose ar111 or is h·is hou est th ough t And s-i111/>le trulh !tis !IIIII O s!?ill!" St Base ba JJ T eam ( 1. 2. 3. 4 ) ; Ca pta in o f Baseb a JJ T ea m ( 4 ); Bask et B a ll T eam (2. 3. 4 ); Capta in of Ba ket Ball T ea m ( 3) ; Footba JJ T ea m (2. 3. 4 ); Capta in of Foot I a ll T ea m ( 4 ) : Co rpo ra l Co. ''A " ( 2 ); S ergeant Co. ''A " (3) : Co lor Se rgea nt Co. ' 'B" ( 4 ); en io r RiA e Club (2, 3, 4 ) ; R AT- T AT Board ( 3) . Motto: "To be a coac h in some un ive •·sity ." HIS Baltim o re lad j oin ed us in th e latt e r pa rt o f our Freshma n year, and in c th en. he ha s s ho wn u that th e re is noth in g too g r eat fo r him to un der ta ke. He has pro 1 ·en to be a tru e St. J o hn' man. t hr oug h hi s ha rd work, and hard f uo-ht I a ttl es in ath leti cs for o ld St. John 's. In fo otba ll, he wo rk ed ha rd fo r th e o ld Coll ege, a nd th re we re ve ry few cl ays whi ch went by, th a t ·'In·" wa sn 't out on th e g ridiron t ryin g to do a ll he co ul d. To how th a t the tea m appr ec iate d hi s wo rk, th ey elected him Ca pta in for the a on o f 1915. In th e easo n o f 19 14 he wa elected 11-1-laryla nd Ca ptain. In Basket Ba ll it wa t he sam e way. a n d he wa s Capta in in hi s thi rd yea r . Base ba ll see med to be '' Ir v's" f a1·ori te spo rt. as he m a de th e team in hi s ~ r s t yea r, a nd has bee n on e o f th e tea m 's ma ins tays eve r sin ce. a lso he is Ca pt a in of th e tea m fo r th e sea o n of 19 16. Th e re a r tw o thin gs that ''In·'' li kes to do. and th a t i s lee p and s in g. W e heli e1·e he lik es to s leep bett e r. beca use every Su nday a nd ot he r a ft e rn oo ns. on e ca n go in hi s roo m a n(! li nd him as lee p. Hi s fri end "Dent" o ft en as ks him to go fo r a wa lk on Sun days. but ·' l rl'" a l w:~ys has a da te with hi bed . Th e mo t wo nd e rful th ing abo u t him is h is s in g in g . Ove r loo kin g th ese f w r ema rk s. "Ir v" i one o f th e bes t a ll a ro und men in Co ll ege . H e is lik ed by e1 ry one. a nd t he re is not hin o- he won't do fo r hi s fell ow stud en ts . " In·" ·e wor ks ha rd in hi cia es. f r om th e beginnin g until the end . a nd wi ll g ra du a te with hi s cia s. a n d we a ll f ee l sure tha t he is th e kind o f a man whom o ur A lm a 1\Ja te r w ill ha 1 good ·e reaso n to be pro ud o f. 65 64 �JOSEP H PEAR E J-E W ELL,- "Pee W ee" An napoli s, Md. LATI N-,SCt£1\TIFJC '·Tall o al~s jro111 little acorns grow." Junior R iA e Club ( I. 2. 3); A rt Edi to r R AT- T AT (3); Philomathean Litera ry (3, 4 ) ; Seni or RiA e Club ( 4). i\1otto: "To m ake th e m ost of li ttle t hin gs- t h at i.··, a big m a n of himself." ERE is th e " T o m Thumb'' of the Senior Class, a g rea t fo rce of ene rgy co nse n ·ed in t he min imum a mount of Aes h a nd bone. He i of th a t en ergetic type who. a lw ays fo ll ow in g th eir c hose n obj ect, ultim a tely reac h th e h ig ht of th eir a mbiti on . He ha two hob bi es, '·f uss in g" and bi cycl in g. Whenever he bows hi fa ce on the st ree ts of A nn apoli s, it is in th e enjoy ment of one of th ese two occupati ons. and he is no novice in eith e L In th e lin e of ""f uss in g.'' he spec iali zes on tha t type of th e femin in e ex we ighing no t more th a n ninety pound . towe rin g not mo re than s ix ty-thr ee in ches f rom the g round , a nd requirin g a n a rm no longe r th a n tw enty in che to encircle. Otherwise, ''Pee \A/ ee" is ve r y eas il y sa ti sfied . ·' P ee 'vV ee' ' is a n espec ia l friend o f Dr. Schumacher. Th e e tw o get on so fa mo usly toge th e r that ther e is ve ry littl e el e in Ger man classes exce pt co n ve rsa ti on betw en th e big Germa n D oct r a nd th e littl e '· Pee \ Vee." Their likin g for eac h ot he r might be c mpa r ed to t he l ove o f two Iri sh brothers for eac h othet·- a continu a l fight. And if th e Docto r we re n ot s uch a la rge man, we doubt not th a t '·Pee Wee·· wou ld hav e cli mbed hi s frame lo ng ago. ""Pee 'vVee" is a ve r y ve rsa ti le person. for bes ides h is accomp li shm ents a a bi cyc list a nd fusse r he is quite int e re sted in art. In fa ct. he s how ed such a mark ed sup er io rity in thi s department o f work ove r th e rest o f hi s cia th a t he was elected Art Editor of last yea r · R AT-TAT. Hi s wo rk in that book has e li cited mu ch fa vo rabl e co mm ent. Pearce is a ha rd worker and ti cks at eac h ubj ect unti l he conqu e r it . a nd it i thi qua lity of d etermin a ti on th a t will be a va lua ble asset to him in hi s la ter lif e which we ca nn ot think wi ll be otherw ise than c row ned with success. LU~'HER TH0!\1AS MJLES,- "Loui e" Ma rio n Station, Md. L Art N-SctEN Tt Ftc " Sleep 111akes one bea1ttiful, aud oh ! how I do sle ep ." Juni o r RiA e Club ( I. 2 . 3) : S eni o r RiA e Club ( 4 ) ; Inte rsoc iety D ebate Secreta ry (3); Corp o ra l Co. "B " (3); Assista nt Yell L ead e r ( 3); P. H. Winner Junior Oratorical Contest (3); Ye ll Leader ( 4 ); ssociate Editor P hil omath ea n Lite ra ry Society; President Phi loma th a n Soci ety ( 4); Co ll ege (4); Peace Oratorica l Contest (3) . l otto: "~'h e wo dd o wes m e a Jiv in g. (2. 3. 4 ) ; Clas F. 0. A. (3); Co llegian (4); D ebat in g T ea m Doesn't it seem ' na t ur·a l' l s h o uld win ?" "lilA sta tur e. wtth ht elo '1uentn Aow e,( ?) of o ratoow;heI •' mafra td of no man. ;m,tl DIES '"' geoti<meo.- I " t;Ui bot God ko ry m;~hty." Th oo«h J.-.\ tn A nd fri end s, th e Ea tern S ho', as we ll as St. J o hn 's, ca n we ll be pro ud of uch a on . Ever in ce hi s entr a nce to Col leo-e in the fall of 1912. ""L ui e'' has taken a prom in ent inte res t in a ll o ur co ll ege acti1·iti e. H e has been th e life of o ur L ite ra ry S oc iet ies. H e ha ha d a wo nderf ul facu lty ( ?) for in tillin g th o ld St. J oh n· s pirit into th e new men each yea r. for two yea rs has been o ur g racef ul C hee r Leader. O ur Hopkin s o-a me wou ld not ee m rea l with o ut '' L ui e" an d hi s in g- S in g j er ey. "' Although enthusias ti c abo ut mo t a ll b ranches of co ll ege li f . he is not so st t·ong fo r militari s m. H e claim it to be in co nsistent w ith his a rgu ment s for peace. So not b in oespec ially adapted to mu s ic (tho ug h good at blowing). he joined the E ng ine ering Corp; Th a t" s ri g ht. ''Lou ie. ·• Th e re's a voca tion in life fo r eve ry one-but ''A in 't it wonder iul how busines kc ps u p?"' ·· Lo uie's" love for t he fair sex see m to li e o 1 ·er in o me rset and e1·e ry clay he peruses the papers wit h intense inte res t to ee what has happen ed to the Cr isfie ld g irl and then ays: ""v\'ell. boy , it might have bee n wor e." " Louie" inten ds. a fter grad ua ti o n, to ente r the law depart ment of Ya! Uni1·e rs ity. and we a ll wish him th e g reatest of success a nd hope so me da y to s e hi s na me a mo ng th e ''D icrn ita rie ., of thi Nat ion. 67 �JAJ\IES OABLYLJJ: 1\ULL I<B ,; "Je w " Baltimor e, Mel . S CJ£N1'1FJ C '' Li1•e and loz·e ." Jun ior R iA e C_lu b (1 , 2, 3) : Class Treas ure r (I ) ; Ch ief Trump et er (2. 3); R AT-T AT Board (3); Boardtng C lu b ( 3. 4); H op Co mmi ttee (3, 4); Phi lo m a th ea n L ite ra ry Society; ss tsta nt Foo tba ll Manager (2). !\lotto : "Spea l;:er· a nd p ublic life fo r m e. " : A MES. bette r known as ''] ew, ., ca m e to us in th e fal l of 1910 a nd entered th e P rep. Sc hoo l. Afte r stay tn g th ere two yea rs. he ent e red the doo r of Co ll ege and old Pinkn ey Ha ll held he r a rm s ope n to him . Du rin rr hi s Fres hman yea r th er e wa s n ot ve ry mu ch heard from him. It w a during t hi s year he s howe d hi s a bility a s a student- exe mptin o- a ll hi work. He h a~ tri e~ ha rd man y tim es s in ce th en to r epeat thi s. but plea ur e o r ~o m e such fo ll y has a lway mte rf er ed. It was 111 hts Sop ho mo r e yea r that he beca m e bette r known. ''J e w" was _~;man im ous l y elect ed res id ent of th e ·'G. 0. H." a nd f u lfi lled hi s duti e to perfecti on . A ll l• re s hmen looked u pon h11n w tth fear and would go a goo d eli ta nce to get o ut of hi s way . . "Jew' s '' main h'?bby is a rg uin g , a nd he a lw ays plays a co n sp icuo us pa rt in cla ss m eetin g. It ts sa te! he ca n cl eh n e th e m defi na ble. ex pla in the un ex plain able a nd d eba te the un debatab le. After ''Jimmy " h ea rd a ll th is abo ut h im se lf he d ec id ed to ma ke law hi s p rofess ion. Thi s yea 1 he ta kes th a t sub ject at th e U ni ve rs ity of l\IIa r yla n cl , and hi s requ ired work at o ld · St. John' s. Now he li 1·es in Baltimo re an d co m es clow n her e eve r y dav. 'vVe n ever h ea rd him say. but we a ll ha ve a s nea ky su spi cio n th at thi s ju st s uit ' ']e~." ·Knowi ng him to be a t home a m ong t he fa ir e r set. wa lkin g Le x in g to n S t r eet. a nd dri1·in g a "fliv e r " w hi ch can a ll be eas ily obtai n ed in Baltimore. ' fil'Y DOUG LA S '.r HOJ\'IPSON,-''Dong'' An napoli s, Md. L ATJN-SCI EN'I' I FIC " Th e short est · oad t o a 111an.'s heart is through h-is sto111ach ." r Juni o r RiA e C lub (1 , 2, 3 ); Cotill on C lu b (2, 3, 4 ); R AT- T AT B oa r d (3); Marks ma n (1. 2. 3); Seco nd T eam Footba ll (3); Hop Commi ttee ( 4 ) · S er o·ea nt Co. ''A " (4) · Phi Sig ma Kapp a Frate rnity. ' "' ' !\'lotto: "Eat, dl'i.nk a nd b e m e r·r·y-n e ve r· say di e ." EL L. fe ll o ws. loo k who' he re ! O ld M a n "Doug''! S mo kin g . as us ua l. Bet h e's e ith e 1~ ju st been o r, is j u,;t _ gettin g rea dy to go huntin g . For if th e re's o ne thin g 111 th1 s wor ld that · Dou g !Jkes to do , bes1cl es dan cin g a nd stud y ( ?) it i s to hunt. T o exp r ess it in hi s ow n wo rd s : ·' What it ta kes to go huntin g . I'm' a ll broke out with .' ' H e's som e s ho t. too. Don ' t kn o w that we e1 ·er hea rd of hi s killin g an ythin g , but he wea rs a s ha rp sh oote r 's m eda l. D ur ing th e summ e r month s "Do ug" goes back to t h e so il a nd beco mes a "gent lem a n fa rm eL" He has a p lace so m ew he re in th e sandbanks of "A nn ie Runn el." wh e1 h e ra ises ·e wate rm elon and s weet potatoes by the ca rload. He saJ•S he wo r ks, but thi s is hard t o beli e1 unl ess o ne co n sid e rs bo ss in g a lot of ni gge r wo r!t . But who blam es him fo r th is? ·e. Hard wo rk in hot weat he r is no t a w hite m a n's j o b, especia lly if h e is in clin ed to stoutnes . Nex t to huntin o·. "Dou g's" favo ri te pa stim e is d a ncin g . In thi s h e exce ls. so th e g irl s will te ll yo u. H e h as ne1·e r been kn ow n to m is a hop a nd he is neve r wi th o ut a partn e r. for a s we a ll know he '·Jo ,·es the lad ies" a n d a lwa ys kn ow a "c hi cken'' wh en he sees on e. Judgin g from appea ra nces. it is r easo na bl e to be li eve that the la di es l ove " Doug ." .1 ust w hy thi s is tru e we have not yet been ab le to decid e. Per hap s it is hi s g race ful dancing, pe rh ap it is hi s cla r k a nd han dso me style of bea uty, and pe rh aps it is hi s unf a ilin g ly happy el i po sition a nd hi s endl es s uppl y of good hum o r whic h a tt ra ct eve r yo ne a n d w hi ch h ave won fo r him a ho st of frie n ds. It is " Dou g ' " a m bitio n, we believe. t o beco m e a n office r in U ncle Sam 's Ar my. But wheth e1 it i thi s o r so m ethin g else .th a t he wil l ultimate ly choose a s hi s life's wo r k. we · be lie1·e that he wi ll s ucc eel; a nd wh en he leaves St. J o hn ' h e w ill take with him the m os t sin ce re good w ishes of hi s friend a nd class m ates. 69 �.\ lu tto Ye ll A ut ·vincere ant lll ori .Ha llaba loo ! Hull aba lee! ]-] u rra h, ' . J. C. ~I aroon a nd \ 1\f hi te . Rickety R een, St. J ohp' s '16, ' 16, '1 6. Co l o not ;d aroon and White Ut;R~S K. Baltimore, Md. "' A~I'ERS, -"Dop e " C' lnss O llic·ers J. 1'. Du1<1~ .. .. ... ... ..... . . . ............ . . . ..... . Preside·n t H. J. N DRt ·: w . . . . . . • . . . . . . ... . . . . : . .. . . . • . . . . Vice-P resident J. 1\I. Pt~ AR C t·: . . . . • . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • ... .. .. . . .. . ... . Secreto r y R. 0. JoN t~s ..... .. .... . ........ . .... .. .......... . Treosurei' A. B . J ACQUES . . . . . . . . . . . . ... .. •....• • . . . . . . . . . . . . Historia n. L. \ . DARL I~\' ... . . . .. . . . . . . . . ... ... . .. . .. . Sergeo nt-ot-Ar 111s L A TI N - SCIE NT I FJC .. Let thr other fellow do the worryi11g ." Clea n lee1·e; «~rl V E" R AT - T A'i' Board (3); P hilomathean Lit e ra ry i\lotto: ociety. "PleaS tH'e a nd a squ a r e dea l ft·om th e JII 'OI's." O"mo <o " ' fcom T ow.oo. ' ci<y lyiog io. uocod " "'" B•i<im,·o. · \\'o do not kn ow exac tl y wher e, but just as k him ; he wi ll g lad ly te ll you. Th ere is one rather peculi a r thing abo ut ou r fr ien d wh ich we but sli g htly und e rst and. and for whi ch we ra th er ad mire him- hi easy way of taking life. Not hin g worries him. Th e pro fesso rs ha rdly fee l j ust ifi ed in g ivin g him a so-called ·'ba llin go ut.' ' Ind eed. it is a pret ty well- e tab li heel fact that mos t a ll of t hem had any time rather ta lk with M r. \!Vaters a bout th e weath er. war or ome uch uni versa l top ic than laun ch into one of those pri1·a te rep rim a nd so fa ta l to th e pr wess of o me. "Dope's'' big drea m of Ia t yea r is no longe r one o f th ose ni g ht vis itat ion ; as a res ult o f hi num e rous pla nnin gs a nd prepa r atio n it ha become a reality. Yes. ir. he actua ll y took a transcontinental trip to ' Fri sco in a ca r purcha eel purpo ely for the occa ion . Man y a ni g ht ha it ta ken " Dutch," "Do pe's" A nn apo lita n co m pa ni on a nd fe ll ow- tra ,·eler. to enum erate th e rema rk ab le in cid ent s a nd scenes of th at trip. And ''Dope" spend s no littl e ti me vocife ra tin g on th e sa me subj ect . Th e ca use of hi spe ndin g hi s week -end s in Baltimore m ay be properl y att ri but ed to two things- the fa ct that he may deem it necessa ry to g ive hi s ca r a certain amount of exe rcise wee kl y a nd th e poss ibili ty th a t th e re is ome boy's iste r in that metr opoli s wh o exe rt s a ce rtain a mo un t of fo r ce ove r him . Ne ith e r of th ese ca n we safelv choose. H owe,·e r. s hou ld it co me to a pu sh. we wo uld und oubt ed ly sav th e la tt e r. . In ta kin g up tw o oth e r phase o f '·Do pe's" acco mp lishm ent s. we wo uld say th a t hi s milita ry a nd a ca demic achi e1·em ent far urpa s those of o th er s. con sid e rin g- hi s exe rti on. It is ce rta in th at none '·g rease" le s than he. Yet pass in g off work is no troub le to h im. In conclus ion . me thinks that \ tVat er s is end owed with th at a mount f wi ll power a nd indi,·idu a li ty r eq ui ite to mak e a man who. hav in rr li ved in the wo r ld. will mea n th e bett e rment th ereof. Peace and prost erity to yo u , old man! 70 §.Pntor ~~~~: ·~ l THI N a few ~~ j ~ ~--~)) =-=-~ ~ ~'Ji ~ ~ ~ 1~ ~ ~ f rom homes ~h1tnry h r t weeks th e d o rs o f St. J o hn' . a ll ege ·w ill clo c upo n the e1·entful ca ree r o f th e C lass o f 1916. Lt is ind eed ap pro pn a tc, 111 th e. e clo mg ho urs, that we s ho u ld mak e tht s effo rt ~o pe rp etu ate t!1 e m e m o ry of so m e eve nts th a t wt! l e te rn a ll y l111 k o ur hea rts In the g o lden cla s p of fi-a te rn a l love. T hi per io d ha bee n to us a gr at batt le fi e ld . \ . tru ggle, advance, a tta ck , repuL e a nd ao·a in a s trugg le a n I a ch ·a n ce wo uld bri c Ay desc rib e our co urse. .. !mos t in u pe rab le difficu lti es ha 1·e b ee n o1·c rco m c and ba rrt e rs th e hwh sea of s u cce s, leav in g a l ft th e pro ud__I anne r of "Vie t ry." .-\ . we pa use at th e o·oa l of o ur a mbtti ns a n d look back up on our efforts we r ejo ice in th e fac t t hat o u r jo urn ey to thi s s ummit ha ~ bee n free fr m th e blemi s h of triumoh ~ wo n b~ m ea ns un fa ir , a nd that o ur co mpany ell . band . In a bid in g fa ith a nd fn e ncl s hip. \Ve co mm en ced o ur co n 1u es t in Sep temb e r, 19 12. Ca min o· of comfort a nd meals of savo ry hue. our ex istence in l inkn ev 71 �I and M ess Hall seem ed almos t unb earabl e. The G . 0. H. oon info rm ed u s, howe,·e r, that th o e things would be th e leas t of o ur tro ubl es, a nd our greatest effo rt s had to be expend ed in m akin g thin gs comfo rtabl e as we ll as a mu sin g fo r th e upper class men. R ea li z in g ho we ver, that a good Fres hman mak es a good upp er cl ass man , we se t abo ut o ur ta sk with unu s ual chee rfuln ess, and th e wi cl om o f thi · po li cy may be see n by th e results produ ced. \ Vhat a Rood o f g o ld en m emo rie clamor fo r recogniti o n as we pen th ese few th o ug hts . From o ur ve ry beginning we h ave mad e hi s tory for St. J ohn 's. A lth oug h but a Fre hman , Se lby wa awarded a m o nogram in f o tba ll. being a m ember of th e F a mou s " 1912 T ea m .'' Hauver, A ndrew , H eise , Hyde and Bo wers we re a lso m aking good in the seve ral bran ches of at hl eti cs. O ur m en exce ll ed, too; in scho lars hip . J o nes, D uke, Selby a nd }-[arringto n made en viabl e record s for fourth clas m en. In thi s year a lso, :\Joor e wa a m emb er of th e winning in ter. ciety debating tea m . O ur su cce , ho w e,·e r. durin g thi s year was no t entirely in m a terial acco mpli s hm ents. O ur effo rts wer e turn ed ve ry largely to th e ta sk of acquitt in g o urselves as go od Fres hm en. Willingly , even g lad ly, w e pe rfo rmm ecl th e duties and ta ·ks a s ig ned to us by th e mo re expe ri ence d upp er class m en, and a s w e fee l th a t we ha\'e profited la rge ly by th eir precepts, we dee ply regret th at during th e pa s t two yea r s th e s ub se r vient Fres hman a t S t. J ohn's ha s di sa ppeared. O ur g reat es t rebuff came in o ur Sopho mo re yea r. Returning fro m o ur Ya ca ti on. rea li z in g th e gigant ic and importa nt ta sk awaiting u s. w e set abo u t th e acco mpli s hm ent of thi s t ask with an a rd o r and zeal alm o t unimagi nable. \Ve a im ed high. but we hit th e mark . O ur m ove m ents were en,·e lopc cl in deepest mys tery, but th e re ult s obtain ed were far grater than eve n the m s t opt imi s tic su p porter s ho ped for . I nd eed, we accompli s hed res ul t s so th oroug hl y th at th e Fa culty brok e up our end eavo rs by enf rcin g a tw o weeks' vac ati o n upo n sevent een m embe rs of o ur class . U pon th e return f th ese men, we d ecid ed to abandon th e "pers uade r," w hi ch ha d been used when meeting o r an y e viden ces of di sobedi ence to ord ers were brought to th e kn ow ledge o f hi s hi g hn ess . th e pres id ent of th e G. H. 0 . From that m emo rabl e clay whe n we buri ed th e "cl us ter" to thi s one, we ha,·e kep t our ha nd s clean from haz in g a nd ha ve turn ed our th oug h ts to o th er thin gs. Se Ycral f th e o ld bun ch did n t return to co ll ege a t th e beginn in g- of th e So ph omor e yea r. but th eir pla ce wa s . o mew hat fill ed by th e additi o n of fi,·e ne w men. F our o f th ese fiv e- B ielaski , I-Iart:o ck. Da rl ey and :\l acken zie- a re s till w ith us, a nd ha ,·e bcco mm e Yaluab le m emb ers of their cl ass . Th eir initi at io n was inc! eel uniqu e. U nd er th e able directi on of " H op'' T' lnmm er. th e co mmitt ee a rranged thirty-four degree . of su ch a nature that th ese fiv e m en a re now p r epared for any goat or g reasy pole in ex is tence. Shrin crs a nd T empl a rs have n t h ing o n these m en. :-\t th e end of t he perfo rman ce th e ca ndidat es em erged fr om a deluge ca use d by n e hundred a nd fift v pitch er: of wa ter, a nd were co nsid er ed a · being wash ed clea n nf al l imouriti es a nd wo rth y to continu e as m embers of the Cla ss of 19 1o. Durin~· thi s year our m en co ntinu ed to do creditabl e w o rk in at hl eti c circles :111d th e entir e Va rsity ba. ket ball tea m wa s mad e u p of m emb er s o f th e Cia s o f 191o. In cid entall y. th e ba lance of th e sched ul e ha d to be can cell ed wh en th e a fo rem en ti o necl seve n teen worthy Sophom o res wer e shipp ed . . O ur Juni r year ag·ain fo un d sever a l o f th e old face s mi s in g- and seve ral new ones anoea r. In th e ea rl y oart o f thi s yea r St romeyer and Jac-qu e we r·~ t <~ke n into th e class with appropriate ce rem o ni es. und er th e d irec ti o n o f :\fr. P lumm e r. 72 Thi s wa s an eve ntful yea r in th e hi s to ry o f our class . Moo re, :\1ack en zie, Se lby a nd J one · hold commi ss io ned o ffi ces in the Ba tta lio n. Selby \Na s cap tain o f the foo tball t ea m a nd recogniz ed as o ne of th e most co nsistent tackle · in the S tate. A ndrew and 1-Ieise were selec ted a s m emb ers of th e A lk\l aryland team. Hyde, Bowers, trom eyer, Bielaski and J. i\l. Pearce al so rend er ed va lu a bl e a s is tance. In clas w ork, w e again m ade a d es irabl e record . F o ur m en, JJ ielaski . Ha rt. ock, J o nes and Ja cqu es, getting grad e ce rtifi ca tes. In o rato ry and debate, :M oo re, :\i[i les and Jacque divid ed th e spoil s. The publicatio n of th e R AT-1'A'l' in our Juni or yea r was o ne enorm o us ta sk, bu t th e res ult is a credit to th e editor s and bu sin e s m ana o·er s of th e sam e. Th e Jun e !Jail was a l o an imm ense propos iti o n, but un de rtaken in the per is ten t s pirit of o ur cla ss The Fare well turn ed o ut to be a t lea t equ al to, if not ju t a bit a head of, th e fo rm er fa rewell s. T he beginnin g of the Seni o r year aga in fo und o ur o ri g inal b un ch dimin i- hecl by two m en, .:.1oo re and I-l a uv er hav in g complet ed the r equired course in three years, were awa rd ed th eir dip lo mas w ith th e Cla ss o f 19 15. A lth oug h these na m es no longer ad o rn ou r cia s-r oll , we fee l safe in ;;aying that th ese two m en w tll eve r ho ld th em se lves as memb ers of th e Class o f 19 16, th eir co ns tant fri end s a nd compani o ns of co ll ege year. . O n th e ther hand, o ur numb er -vvas a ug m ented by th e addition o f Dryden, a form er s tud ent, wh o return ed to compl ete hi s course , a nd by Fi elds and Wi lli am s . o f th e Class of 1915. S in ce th e tim e of Se ni o rs i la rge ly g iven to retros pecti on. it is fittin g that w e s hould look ba ck on th e reco rd s of om e of o ur o wn men, in ord er t ha t we mig ht mo re full y r ea li ze th e impo rtant pa rt th a t our m en ha ve taken in th e athlet ic act iv iti es of t h e Coll ege. Selby wa ca pta in of th e ' 1.1 foo tba ll tea m. H eise wa s ca ptain of th e ' 14-' 15 ba sket ba ll team. th e ' 16 f otb a ll team, a nd has been se lec ted to captain th e ' 16 base ba ll team . Ha u ver wa s el.ec ted ca pta in of th e ' 16 ba se ba ll team, but hi s earl y g rad ua ti on preve nt ed htm fr om r eturmn g fo r thi s hono r. . ndre w is captain of th e ' 1.1-' l fi ba sket ba ll tea m and has be en elected captain of th e ' 16 fo tball tea m. Do wn s has been ca ptain and m a in s ta y of th e tenni s team fo r seve ra l yea rs. F ield is ca ptain of th e ' 16 tra ck t ea m. ix m en in our class h ave bee n n a med n r\ 11-:\Jar,vlancl foo tba ll team , severa l of th e. e bein g pi cked fo r s uccess i,·e yea rs. A t leas t fo urteen m ember of o ur cla ss have bee n awa rd ed m o nog r a m s fo r act i,·e parti cipati on in athl eti c on th e Va rsit y tea m s. \Ve beli eve th a t thi s is a pretty fa ir reco rd , a nd on e of whi ch a n y class ma y well be proud . O ur ac ti v iti es . ho wev er , h ave not been limi ted t athl ti cs . Three of th e f ur m en on th e intercoll egiate debatin g t ea m w ere from our class a nd o ur m n have co nsis tentl y w on th e or a to ri ca l conte. t staged here. A lrearl y t he class is ac ti ve in arrangin g seve ra l novel featur es for Jun e \Veek. w hi ch wi ll add g rea tly to th e in terest f our la st clays a nd bid fair to beco m e perm a nent fea tures o f thi s tim e. Space wil l not pe rmit mo re. If a ll th e eve nts o f th e e fo ur yea rs were r co rd ed . we co uld g ive to the w orld a vo lum e mo re dram a ti c than S hak es pea re. more po eti c than nyro n a nd mo re hum o ro us than ni l! . T ye. B ut in ord er th at th e r eco llec ti on of th ese eve nt may remain sac red to our clas . th ey ca n be in crib ed o nly w ithin th e mind s a nd hea rts o f our own men , a nd thi s reco rd w ill en ·e it s purp se we ll if , in future clays, it but turn s ur mind s to a g l ri o u: retrospecti on of our co llege ca reer . Hr s TOHJA K . 73 �,S?~ninr JrnplJrry--<Unnt. lliY speech . ·'Kind S ir, let me but kno w the my te ri e whi ch yo u have concea led ancient ]ndian prin ce. W e follow ed a main passa<Te-way until we we re far down into the bowels of the ea rth Then th e ma in passage stopped in a la rge ha ll from wh ich man y small e r passa()"e branched. W e we re told that we mi ght ente r a ny o ne passage we liked . Each opening was g uard ed by la rge gates. behind which peculi a r figures stood . None of u kn ow ing what was to be fo und in a ny passa<Te, we each looked fo r th e mo t inte resting figure and followed that. l\Iy choice wa that of a mumm y of an old Indi a n p rophet. I ente red the gate a nd exa mined fi r t th e mumm y. Th e figur wa age I a nd bent, a nd th e face was draw n into a weird and quizzi cal smil e. The ind ex f1nge r of the right ha nd was ado rn ed by a ring et with ma ny different kind s of tones. Examining th e ring ve ry cl osely, I ought fi rst my birth ton e, th e opal , and to my surp ri se, uoon to uchina- thi tone. th e J ha nd of th e prophet g rew wa rm and gra peel my Ov~ n in a S irit of fri end ship , then low ly relaxed . The figure began to how ig ns of li fe. Then sudd enly, to both my ho rro r a n I surpri se, a dense cloud of white en ve loped the mumm y and a s weet. ickening odo r fil led th e pa ssage. As th e den e white moke left the room, T notic cl th at I no longe r stood be fo re the mummy, but ra ther that 1 tood , face o face, with the liv ing p res nee of the old Indi a n. Fright ened beyond a ll power of self control, I wa s able neith er to peak no r to fl e . and I stood th e re mute and shak in <T, woncle rin <T what miracle wou ld next be acco mp li heel . A large, d eep YO ice utte red these word s : ' 'l\I y purpose is to e r ve ma n. Speak but yo ur wi sh a nd it sha ll be fulfilled.'' Reassured by th e goodness of hi s mann e r, I regain ed within thi s sec ret passage, and my g rat itude will know no end ," wa nw rep ly. ··Then f oll ow me a nd yo u sha ll have revea led to yo u the pre e nce o f an~: pe rson or p rsons upon whom yo u may concentrate yo ur thotwht ." My wif e a nd chil dren were with our party of me ri can and I kn ew pretty well whe re th ey were a nd wha t they were doing. H ence th e ve ry fi rst per ons whom I ca red to reca ll then we re my cla ssmates of coll ege cl ay a nd , nat urally, my thoug hts turned first to our office r , a nd the fam ili a r fo rm of "" Jimm y" Duk e, o ur Pres ident . sho wed fa intl y o n th e creen. :He seemed conte nt with th e sand pate he a nd tobacco li eld of o uth e rn :i\la ryland, wh e re hi s very p resence seemed to radiate un sh ine and happ in ess among the ho rd es of da rki es worki ng ab ut him. Th e 1 icture slow ly cha nged in to a nothe r sid e of ""Jimm y"s'' life. I aw him in th e mid st o f the \-ill a "e ga iet_ a · a lway th e host of an adm iring crowd- thi exp lanation now f 1 v lowecl- "" Eye ryo ne believes a nd kn ows tha t he will marry f o r a man o f such irre istibl e charms mu t soone r o r la te r be fo rced to ucc umb to th e . ki llful int ri g ues of th e fema le !)ec ies.'' Th e ·ce ne grows dim, but brea ks fo rth aga in in vivid contrast. A s I turn my tho ughts from P r sid ent to V ice-P reside nt , the peace and qui et of th e So uth e rn home give way to the g laring li g ht s a nd I vel y costum es of th e metropo li tan ball-room . I hard ly th oug ht it po ibl e that '·Fat " A ndrew co uld ha \·e con tinu ed hi s ca ree r of h ea rt-breake r to thi s late date. B ut it mu st be o. for here he is, surrounded by a bevy of most bea utiful g irl s. grace full y expla ining that hi s ca rd had been comp letely fill ed quite ea rl y in th e eve ning. Thi thought ju t fla shed ac ros my m ind : ··o lu cky ma n, how many of yo ur class-mate s wo uld em ·y yo ur p resent place. '' But '·Fats ·· just turn away with a si<Th o f :r reat reli ef. He is leav ing th e I all - roo m a nd the scene mu st surely cha nge . But who is thi s? Th e 1 rofi le eem s quite dim. It g rows bri rr hte r. A strange r- No! 'Tis s_ti ll th e fac e of ·· F a ts, .. turned calm ly to th e H ea vens, with a praye r upon hi s lips, ··o God, ha ten the t1me when th ere may be no mo re hearts to co nqu e r. .. A my thought s turn to Pea rce, th e· surroundings of a hun ting club appea r upo n the sc ree n. Hound a nd ho rse seem the cente r of a ll !if . A party f boi_terou s people come qui ck ly fr om th e ho use a nd th e ve ry a tm osphe re seem a t1r w1th th e1r ea<Te rn e s to reach th eir mounts. Th e ho rses, with ex tended no tril s and va unted heads, 1 ranee restlessly a bout , awaiting the start. "Jake' ' loo ens th e hound , mounts hi s ho rse a nd all are off. Ove r hi ll a nd dale throtwh mou nta in and vall ey, with never a thought fo r fences, hedge, o r <TUII ; ''Ja k~" lea d s th e way, and I kno w that he is happy, f o r hi s hea rt is in th e chase. !-\ my th oug hts turn to our Trea urer. R. 0 . J ones, we a re not ur p ri eel to fi nd th e outlin es of a banking in titution. \ iV ith rare sagacity he has devoted him self to the accumu lat ion of th is wo rl d's mat ria l good s, a nd in th is lin e ha · been uccessf u l. s we see him in hi office, the head of l\1a ryla nd' o- reatest banki n<T firm. directing, with but a moment's thought, th e expend iture /;f tllll S of money. which seem to us worth y f th e effort s of a lif etime. Th en 1 foll ow him fro m _hi s oAi~e to hi s waiting limousin e, and th en ove r broad, smooth hi ghway to h1s palat1al house . A he ente rs we notice the absence o f the wa rmth a nd comfo rt of a rea l home. No lov ing wife awaits hi s return and no littl e chi ldren cl a mo r wil d ly f o r dad' s first kis With heavy hea rt, we reali ze that 74 75 ~ ~~· J-IILE traveling through lndi a with a party of A me ri ca ns we were -· • r~ shown, by our O ri ental g uide, through th e fo rm e r dw el11n g of an o • ~ ,...__ _.._ '1 �g,,rutnr Jrnpl1r.ry--C!lnut. Oti h as fall en a VI Ctim to the eternal struggle of ambition aga inst love. a nd in thi s case ambition is returned the victor and h appiness mu st pay th e pri ce. I neve r wou ld beli eve "M ick ey" Dad ey when he told us th at he was a milita ry ma n, but our Sergeant-at-A rm s sp rang one on us. Determin ed to g~t into th e a rm y, he clung to hi s purpose with a tenacity more than h~tman , a nd 111 tl~ e nex t picture I sa w the result of hi s dete rmin ation. Approachmg_ a s though 111 , an aeropla ne, I saw first the outlines o f th e buildings o f New Yo rk Cit y. Approa ching sti ll neare r, I could ee th e great crowds that thronged the ~ treets. O n down, nea re r a nd nea rer, I dropped until the machin e was fairly tou chm rr th e head s o f th e intent spectato rs. I distingui shed two men. wea nng reel band s a round th eir caps bea rin g the wo rd s " The Salvation A rm y." I wa s cl ose enough to hea r what was said and was some littl e .surpri ·eel to hea r th e followin g: ·'Captain Darley wi ll now 'lead us in a word of praye r, af te r wh ich the a udi en ce will joi n in the singing of th e hymn s, which B roth e r H eise wi ll p lay upon the ma nd olin . K ow m •y thotwht focuses upon one of th e most e ri ous and thoughtf ul men 1:> • • of ou r class , "Heini e'' Bowe rs. The scene g row dim and a nother r ehg10u Scene of a more sombre type takes its place. W e see a qui et church . Ga rbed in b! ack cassock we fi nd our old fri end "Heini e," resplendent in the flowing robes of pn esthood, po rtraying th e saintlin ess we we re accustomed to in the days of o l ~l. Th e soft strain of L ohengrin fl oated peace full y on th e qUi et b reezes of th1 s Jun e cla 1 vVonclering vvho coul d p rodu ce the spiri t of thi s famo us old weddin g march ·. . o ··truthfull y, my thought became concentrated upon th e organi st. Slow] y b\tt cl istinct lv the f eatu res o f " Gene" Bourke, hi s soul fi ll ed with the beau ty o f h1 s task. apJ)eat-ecl before me. B ut in li> stening to the sweet train s of the mas.te r organi st, I almost forgot the most impo rtant part o f th e ceremony, for march1ng slowly and stately up the aisle was th e: figure of the ma n who alway s declared that he ,,·oulcl eithe r co nc1ue r or di e. Now it was as conque ror that "West'' H yde suppo rted the a rm o( the fai r damsel, so clea r to him in hi s college clay . T he re had been a mi suncle rstanclin a a nd " W est," being accustomed to bu siness method s. imme li ately sought the se·1~v i ces of th at geniu s of the_ bu siness ~~o d d,_ "J ew'' M ill e r, now devoting hi s whole attent ion to th e promoti on of mat nm on1al ventures. ''Jew" h ad reali zed th e latest po sib_liti es of thi s ca se and had coll ected a i la rge f ee. ''\iVest," however. has n o regrets, f or he rea li ze that hi s rewa rd was more tha n worthy of eve ry effort expend ed . ::\I y mind s now turn s in a diffe rent cha nn el, as the sputter of an a utom?bil e reaches my ears, and looking before me I see th e home stretch of the International Speechray. It was the fini sh of a ch ampionshi p race. A roa r goes up from the ero1rcl as eve ral automobiles cross the lin e almost a t the same tim e. ] ut to u s they a re of li tt le inte rest, fo r th eir d ri ve rs a re entire strange rs. Eve ry ca r had crosse d the lin e a nd I fo un d not a man I kn ew. Somewhat el i appointed, I was abo ut to turn from the scene when far in th e rea r, I saw a littl e speck slowly a nd surely in c reas ing in volume. s th is car came nea rer, I recogni zed th at _ n who ma had been hail ed as "Speed K ing" in Crabtown. B ut no w hi color were tra mpl ed in gloriou sly into th e du st as he rambled a cross the line in hi s " F li vver .. , ·'D ope' ' \ iVaters, for it was none oth e r, decla res that he would ce rtainl y have won th e race of he had not recentl y in stall ed a German engin e in hi s ca r . 76 .H e re th e scene shift s again , a nd thi s tim e to a lonely cottage on th e outskirts of an A nn e A rundel County villarre. ::\I y heart goes out to thi young ma n o f our class, "B ill " tromeyer , who has foll owed the path whe re so ma ny others have t rodden, a nd played the "Old Fashi oned Beau '' a ll hi s life in hi s o wn home town, surro un ded by beautifu l women with rosy li ps a nd d imp led cheeks, in eve ry dimple lurking a dozen o r mo re cupid s, with co ral li ps a nd pea rl y teeth, a nd spa rklin a eye. and ye t he ha shoved them all aside a nd remained content with hi s own sad lot. A huge cloud enveloped thi path etic picture a nd linge red fo r a wh il e be fore it slow ly lif ted a nd revea led th e p leasing outlines of a large country home. The ve ry atmosph ere breathed comf ort and contentment a ndl was no littl e sur pri sed to ..see th e p icture of my somewhat backwa rd classmate, Th ornton Mackenz ie, who im med iately upon hi s g rad uation had la un ched upon a matrim oni al · ad venture, that woul d make the poetic M il es Standi sh blu sh with sham e so far as domest ic happin ess is co nce rned. A glance through th e g round surround ing thi s pretenti ons home showed a number of youn rrs te rs po rting ga il y about th e spacious la wn s. T hi s some what altered thought fro m Whittier fl ashed ac ross my m ind: "He marri ed hi s queen at twenty- fo ur. nd ma ny children pla yed 'roun d hi s doo r." Now the vi sion g ro ws dim and slowly ass um e·s a noth er form. We see a la rge, magnifi cently deco rated room, in wh ich are many tabl es and a round whi ch a re g reat numbers of men, in ve ry tense positi ons. I recogni ze i\Ionte Ca rl o. Directing my a ttenti on to the la rgest tabl e in the room, I find great exc itemen t prevailing. A figure is pointed out to me as a fa mous inte rnati onal lawye r. I watched the man as h e won time a ft er time. Hi s judgement seemed a lmost supe rhuman . S uddenly h e lifted hi s face from the board s, a nd I rec:oani zecl " Loui e" l\I il es, the man who had achi eved o much in the oratori cal li ne "'at St. J ohn 's. He was as popular among hi s present associates as he had been in da vs gone by. Seeing me. he dropped out of th e game and came over to sha ke my ha n-d . I went with him to cash in hi s winnings, whi ch had been so la r ae that he had to see the head o f the gigantic house to settle up . As we app ro~ch ed the promote r, a ce rtain qu iet a ir of ma jesty im pressed me, a nd when he poke in that well moclu.la tecl vo ice, I p e rceived th a t thi s was no oth er than "Dunl evy" Down. . l-I e had, 1ncleecl. p rospe red , but had not fo rsaken hi s old game of tenni s wh ich wa s ' hi s chi ef recuperati on. Suddenl y the scene is replaced by a n out-doo r scene. We a re in Lond on. at the O lympi c game . E ight runn ers a re crouched ten sely, awaiting the sta rte r's gun . It is the hundred-ya rd clash. The gun is fired a nd th e mad race is on. \n E ngli shma n is lead ing th e field-wh en suddenl y there sprin as to th e front a blackhaired. clum sy _ me ri ca n. H e eros es th e line an easy ""w inn e r. It is "Durr'' Thompson, now fa mous as a n inte rn ationa l a thl ete. He in vites me to attend the bo xin g match for th e ba nta m weight cha mpi onshi p, immedi ately af ter he is dressed. Th e contestants a re "Battling '' Wi lson a nd ''Kid " Wi lli ard. K nowin a that pri ze- fighters ra rely figh t unde r their ow n name , I looked th e chall eno-er "'over a nd in hi s ma nl y fi gure saw the lin es of "I ee Wee' ' J eweii, wh o I rem~mbe recl : wa s a lway· a ·mall , ye t aggressive person in coll ege. As the fi ght prorrres eel , it 77 �~rntor ~rtttor Jrot.tl1rry--C!Lont. soon became ev i.dent that he could not win, but neve rtheless he put up hi usual .. N e1·er Say Die' ' fig ht. O ut o f the chaos of th e .g row ing mi st came the fo rm s of tall buildings. electrl c li ghts a nd all those things whi ch go to make u p a street scene at theatre time. I recogni zed a t my right the Gayety Theatre of Baltimo re. E nte ri ng, whi ch was acco mpli shed onl y by a strenuous effo rt, owing to the la rge crowd in attendan ce. I p rocured my seat . Gla ncing over the prog ra m I found , at the bottom, thi s in sc ription: ''Hiram Franklin P lumme r, :M anager.'' Bein o- surp ri sed th at my old roo m-mate was manager o f this inte rest ing playho use, I glanced at a magnificently furni shed box in whi ch I spied him , in hi s glo ry, surrounded by a bevy of lady friend s. still li ving up to hi s old trait s o f coll ege clays. paying diligent attenti on to the fairer sex. Thi s time the pict ure shows a schoolroom. Seated at the desks are abo ut sixty children between the ages of six and eight yea rs. lt i the primary department . Their teacher seems to be in hi s p rope r sphere, for he is the same "Fred'' Bielaski , who acquitted him self with su ch brilliancy in the Class of N ineteen Sixtee11. He had taught at Penn f or the yea r, but had been ousted, because th e reactionary Boa rd of Governors at that place could not ag ree with hi s teaching .. Again there is that peculiar happiness and I see a company of soldi e rs. I hea r th e voice of Captain L orrain e D. Fields. who had ri sen very rapidly in the army life, saying: " Hey there, you littl e, short f ell ow in th e third sq uad , dress that gun , a nd suck up that excess lunch. What kind o f a n army do you think you are in , a nyhow?'' My sympathy was extended to the little ma n bawled out so unm ercifully, a nd coming nearer I recognized " Chauncey" St. Claire ~I cNe ill , who wa s the Ia t man to be initi a ted into the myste ri es of our class, a nd consequentl y, the g reenest. Now the vision becomes one o f a huge dance hall. It is a class of in stru cti on in the Terpsichorean A rt, a nd the very elite of New Yo rk's society held full s way. The dancing maste r was a tall , slim , dreamy person , who I soon saw was "Da 1·y'' Da viclson. He wa at the very top of hi s profession, and was explaining a gigantic dancing ca rni val for the stage of the Hippodrome. Now my f eeling cha nged to one of moti on, a nd I h ea rd and felt the chugchug of a Ford engine. I turn ed to my left, a nd to my utmost surpri se found my elf seated alongside of "Dent'' Hunge rford, who has bee n ma nagin g a di stribu ting agen cy for thi s popula r ca r. As we round ed one of the busiest co rn e rs we 1 re h alted by an appa rentl y lazy and so mewhat sleepy look ing tra ffi c cop. re who e fa ce was that of Cha rl es L. Hart sock. H is one qua li fication for the job was hi s size. \fte r passing through the outskirts of thi s city, a nd driving for a short wh il e over magnifi cent macadam road s, "Dent" stopped hi s lim ousine in front of a magnifi centl y a rranaed co untry club. Many bachelors li ved he re. I stra yed . upon "Tommy'' L igon. li ghtly hummin g the tun e '' Jimmy Got th e O ne I \1\fan ted. '' In our conve rsa ti on '·Tommy' told me that ' 'Jimm y' ' Brashea rs had been Ii,·ing at thi s d ub un ti l abo ut one month befo re,, when he had joined the rank s o f th e bened icts. "Tommy'' was best man ( he had always told "Ji mmy's'' brid e thi s an yway, prev ious to the wedd ing). Now the scene shifts to the brilli a ntl y lighted cha mbe r of a legislative body. The di gnity . of the pro cedure easil y p rocla im s th is chambe r to be that of the 78 Jfropqrry--C!Lont. u. ?· Sei;,ate,} n Washi~1gto n . The debat e before th e Senate is that of "Woman's 1 ~1 e gall e n e a re fi ll ed to their limits as the familiar form of . \ 1\1 . \.\ II II a ms, Sen10r Senato r from Ma ryland , ta kes the fl oo r. \ round 0 f de a fen in a appla u e foll ows th e conclu sion of "Sadie's" add ress upon the "S h o rt comina~ o f the Weake r Sex." o!j Ne~ring the end I fi.ncl a s~ene of peace a nd quietud e. "Bo nev" Selb , d~n ces lightly ac r?ss the p1cture w1th one of th e fa irest of dainty c reatu~es in hi~ a 1ms. It ca.n easily be see n that "Boney" is continuing hi s old pra nk s of coll ecre ?ays, a nd st1ll h ol~ s fast to the good things of life. He always sees that thi s n~ e 1s e1~ f? rced wl~en 1n the. compa ny of others, whether a mid th e ri va lri es o f social amb1t10ns o r .m t.he qtuet sombre co rne rs of some moth er's parlor. when th e play _of affect10n I S warm . I feel that he may ma rry, but before emba rkin cr on so wild a nd da nge rous. a voyage he will have secured for him self some littl e ~o rt or h;~en , where want I S a strang~ r a nd where success is a conditi on of happin ess. .hen th e prophet left my s1cle and I found myself again with my oa rt y of ·~ ~11e n can s. T he future of my class-mates had been revealed, but let us' beli eve w1th Long fell ow, that we should ' ~Iff:age. '·Trust no future, howe 'e r plea ant, Let the dead past bury its dead, Act .. act in the li ving p resent, Heart within, God o 'e rh ead .. , 79 �@>tattntirn The good, the ba d, the others too, And those w ho receive 'liS ment·ion, App roac h and read what is f or yo'!i, And ask not any q·~tes tion. WHOM IN 1916 DO YOU CONSIDERThe most useful? F ollow in o·. the sloga n of th e Sen ior s w h en a n em ergen cy arises and voic in g co ll e;e entim ent, we say" 'Jimmy' Duke's the m a n for the job ." The handsomest? The co m petitor s a r e m a ny . Apoll o does h omage t o th em a ll , but only one ca n, w ith safety ( to th e RAT-TA'r Ed itors), be selec ted . He is - - Jones. The best athlete? The race was a close o ne. " Irvin" led th e fi eld , but " Boney" ca m e in under th e w ire long befor e th e du st had se ttl ed. The greatest eater? Unanim ou sly " Pat." Occas ions a re n um er ous wh ere he not onl y ate his share, but seve i·al "som ebody else's." The greatest heart smasher? . . Let's give every cl og hi s clu e. \ t\l rll som eone kindly as sist Dan Cupid in gath ering up the fragm ent s w hil e " Hop" procee ds to new fi elds of conq uest ? The biggest smoker? . . . . Since Prof. Ridgely i · n ot a comp etito r 111 this r ace, It Is" generally agreed th at "Jacques" is the li ving smokes tack of S t. J ohn 's. The greatest hot air artist ?. "Louie," bey ond th e shad ow of a peradv enture of a dou bt. The best dis positioned? . ~ . They say a good cli spos iti <;n~ m ea ns a harp 111 Heave n." 'I h en , t,l;at bemg so, 1916 w ill have seve ral mu sicians 111 th e fir st o rches tra, Tommy leading, accomp ani ed by "Fats" A ndrew. The most ladylike? N o t a sin g le m an ha s a chan ce aga in st " Sadie." He alo ne pe rpetu all y im pe rsona t es th e fai rer sex. Appears the neatest? . . . . .. Her e "Jake" Pearce rece ives th e JU St desse rts of hi s untinng effo rts. The laziest? "Dug" Thompson win . by a sm all m a rgin , but th ere ar e oth er t oo close fo r comfort. The best military man? Com e o n. fe llow s, let's do a good deed and everybody say " Mac." The sleepiest? It is ind eed to be r egretted th at th ere a re no mo re appli ca nts for thi s h onor. "Harty" st and s first , being th e onl y co mp etito r. The greatest greaser? T h er e h a ·bee n disco,·er ed by o n e "Heinie" Bowers a certa in oil y mi xture co m po und ed fro m pr aise, fl at t ery and ciga rs, w hi ch works m agicall y in a ll ev iatin g friction betwee n the profs. a nd st u de nts . " Heinie" is T'I-IE g rease r. 80 WHO IN 1917 HASThe most class spirit? It is genera ll y beli eved th a t "Pris" ha s drunk th e deepest of thi s hi o·hl y reco mmen ded beverage. "Snooks" H . is a lso charged with th e sa me in~ ox­ ica nt. The best chest? . It was unn ecessa ry ~o vote on thi s, for " Dick" Burgess has to ope n th e wmd o ws to thro w o ut hr s ch es t ; a nd if thi s di stin cti on were not o·iven him so m ebody would ha ve to fight. · "' The best prospect for a mustache? Afte: a ca reful in s pec ti on with a_ high-po wered mi c roscope belong in g to the B10logy Laboratory, _ w as decrded th at "Shorty" Curfman's top li p rt possessed th e ev id ence that It (lr p ) wo ul d so me clay lead ' 17 in th e mu stach e competition . The most soulful eyes? . _ V ho of )_'O U, h av in~ eve r gazed into th e unfath om ecl dep th of a pai r of \ lrqmcl orb s, wrl l contradi ct that Noble, " A. H ," wi ns in th e co ntes t of spa rklin a g limm er s? "' The reddest top? Four strong was thi s race. A rranged in ord er of m erit, th ey are: " Ralph" Crum, "Reds" Spicknall, "Ira" a nd "Shorty" Curfman. The baldest head? Noble, " J. W.," fir st, last, an d the mid dle. The cutest smile? . T hose not voting for themse lves, seem to be of th e opi ni o n that " Carey" w m s, but th ey furth er agree that "Sleepy's" is th e kind that won 't wear off. The most rhythmatic soul? 'Ti s sad to say it, but truth wil l o ut. "Sam," in hi s recitals aently leads us off into that eth erea l bey on d and qui etly lets fa ll u pon u's "'the ve il of sleep. The biggest mouth? . Here is w here th e judges had d iffi culty. All were foun d to h ave the ~n st .rument in qu esti on suffi ciently large to vociferate th eir min ds' intenti on 111 t11nes of trou ble, but th e di stin cti o n was g iven to "McComas." The most patriotism? Three cheers for "Ger.m any"! Neve r has a man w ith m or e pat ri oti sm than o ur "Mr. Van Schwartner" circum ambul ated a Aag tree. WHO IN 1917 ISThe best orator? "Messrs. He nry Clay, Dani el \ 1\1 ebste r and Pat ri ck Henry will speak on the a ffirmati ve of thi ques ti o n. " "Woodward" will defe n d th e negative. The best musician? Crum, sir. Five h ymns and nin e bu cks pe r m onth i wh a t h e g ives and gets. The greatest consumer of tobacco? '\Tot kn ow in g that he had a key hole auditor , Weaver's solil oquy ra n as foll ows : " Tobacco is a filthy w eed ; It m ak es you thin , it mak es you lea n. I like it: ~ t _ta)< es th e hair ri g ht off your bean, It sa ti sfie s no human need ; Ti s th e bl am 'de t stuff I've ever see n ; I lik e it: I like it. " 81 �l:"i . \ ~ II .\IJ.Ol" .I' S'l' . • J OH~ ' S . • �MAR I O:\" COX,-":\hwi o n " Marde la prin "s, i\ l d. L x rr :-~-Scr r':; TIFIC .. Szva ns sing befo re Iiley dil', '!wac no sad tiling. Did certain f>ersons die bl'fore th ey sing .. , Corpo ra l Co. '·A '' (3J; Marksman (2); Se~or Rifle Club (2. 3); First G rade Ce rti licat (2); P hil oka li a n Lite ra ry Society (2. 3); Baseba ll Squad (2): Ed itor- in-Chi e f R .\'l'-T .\1' (3). "Motto: "Duty fi r·st, t h e n pleas ur·e." H A T pec ul iarly ,fa int ex~.ression . ~~ e see abo ut hi s 1~ o uth isn't ~y n.ic i s m a t all , as ma ny who don t kn ow Manon as we ll as we 1111 g ht thmk- 1t 1s hum or 1n 1t broadest se n e. There is a say in g that one with a good, hea lth y sense of hum o r wi ll ne \·cr kn o w a real ca lamity. and if th at is tru e. "M a rion " i d est in ed to wear hi s usua l smile for life-th e humoro us s mil e of l\IJ in e n ·a. th e mil e o f th e maste r . For we recogni ze in thi blond lad fr o m th e Eastern Sho re th e clear-cut qua li tie of a · leade1 in whatever ac ti vity he ente rs. \ Vhen we cho e "Ma rion " a. Editor- in -C hi ef o f thi s. our Jir st publi ca tion, it was no mor e of a comp lim ent to hi s lit e ra ry a biliti es than it was a recognition of the uperior qualitie of an a ll-a round co ll ege man . for th o e blue eves of his show a wi ll power and determination which clri\·e any und erta kin a as a rifl e dri~· e ­ its cha rge to the encl . Hi s q ui et re erve mak es him a lways an inte re stin g fountain of cli sCo\·ery, a nd th e fart her th e ex plore r ve ntures the ri che r the treas ur e. Of a rolu t a nd athlet ic ph ys iqu e, ·' Marion .. ri g htl y g lo ri es in hi s natu ra l trength. a nd a lthou g h he .is a n arde nt fo ll ower o f baseba ll , we ha\·e a hun ch t hat he would pron an A me ri cus on the ma t. If t hi s young. bac helor has had any se ri ous transact ion with D an C u pid it surel y mu st ha \·e been ch sa trou s t o th e lat te r. for he is, from al l appea r ances. still hea rt- whole and ope n for co nque st. So ge t him. g irl s ! H owe \·e r. if yo u e \·e r meet w ith our tal ented representative. have a ca re not to und eres tim ate him. but ta ke what h e ay at its face va lu e. a nd you will not be disappointed. RALI•R \\' AL'l'F.R C R. Ul\1,-"R. e d~," LA S ICA L "! 0 111 III OIJOrrh " So r'l'el ," "Cnrrnmie," Athen s, Pa. CouRSE. of all 1 sur~ ·e.\' ." R.\'1'-Ti\'r' Boa rd (3): G lee Cluh (2. 3): Sergeant Band (3) : Phil oka li a n Lit e rary Society : F oo tb a ll T ea m (3). Motto: "'l'o do as it p leases o ne to do ." ~. the ~ ppo sj t e pa?e yo u see th e face o f one o f th e ] unior t;Ja s · proud po sessi o ns. Reel 1 a b1 g hkab le fellow. who has acco mph shecl mo re 1n fou rteen monlh s than ma ny h aYe acco mpli shed during th eir who le stay he re. He n te recl a. a Sophomore and was ta ken in th e Class as per th e u ua l custom. \ 1 n th footba ll ea on tarted Ralph went o ut and was s howin a good form. \'h hut he had to s top on acco unt o f a n injured side. P erhaps "Sorrel's '' gre at es t hob by is mu s ic. H e has how n g r ea t intere t in th e ''G lee Clu b. '' ]-fe plays th e cla rin et in the Co ll ege Ba ncl. ( 'vVe a re thankful th a t th e re a re enou rrh other pieces to partia ll y d row n hi .. mu sic.' ' ) He it is who leads o ur \'a li a nt cho ir in the sea rch for ha rm on.\'. Inciden ta ll y. it mi g ht be added t ha t th e search menti oned aha\·e ha s ne \•e r been successf ul. · "Reds" is one o f the fe w in th e choo l taking a classical co urse. Greek would have been hi s middl e na me had hi parents fo reseen hi s profic iency in thi uh ject. In fact, ''Bob" 'vVhite him se lf had better look to hi s la ure ls when Ra lph <Ye t o n th e jol .. Th en. too . he i no lauch in L a tin and is a pa rti cul a r friend of "Jack's.'' So it is n wonder that "Reds' ' takes th e class ica l co urse. Thi s fa ll '' Sorrel ' ac hi e \·ed th e heigh t of hi s a m biti on, the winnin g of a foo tb all monogra m. He played a lterna ti ng ly a t g uard a nd tack le in a ll th e ga mes. hi . work in the .\1\' as.hin gto n College .game receivin g espec ia lly hi g h prai se. R a lph is a bi g fell ow. with a still b1 ge r hea rt. H1 s bluff ma nn e r at fi rst cl cei\•e one int o th inkin ()' him a rrr ouch. but when one has see n him a few tim es he fi nd s o ut r ea ll y what k in d of fellow C;um i . And in hi s chose n pr ofes io n. law. we ca n see for him not hin g I ss than a \'e ry brilliant ca ree r. 85 �\\' AI,T JJ:R H . CT H FMA:V,-"S hm·ty," " 1\'l a r·i go ld," L i be rtytown , Md . L ATI N- CIE NTIFI C C lass Hi s torian (21 ; Boardino· Club (3); A ss i ta nt }.ll anao·e r Ba sk t Ba ll (3); Firs t G ra de Cert ifi ca te ( 1. 2); R x r- T .1T Board (3) ; Phi lomathean S oc iet y; Trea ure r P hil om a thean oc ie ty; Juni o r Rii·le C lub ( I . 2). i\t otto: "Good goods co m e iu li ttle paclmges." OO K close. ge ntl e reade r. e r you do ex plore farth eL Thi I S "S ho rty '' Curfman . of Frederi c k County. Th o ug h of s lig ht I uild and mode t. una ss um1n g m ein. h e occ upi e. a 1 ry pr o min ent part in o ur a ffe cti o n ·. ·e O ur litt le man is a lso quite a mu s icia11. or. ra th e r. h e was in hi s Sopho more yea r. when he had th e id ea that he would show the Co ll ege th e tal ent s with whi ch li e was bles eel. a nd so he j o in ed th e ba nd. 1 ll. to m a k e a lo n g story s ho r t. he r ac hed Ne he height of hi s g lory o n a n e 1·en tfu l Frida y afte rn oo n at dr es parade. a t which tim h e came to th e mon strou s co nclus io n th a t mu s icia n we r e bo rn and not m ade. o he ga,·e u p the id ea of bein g a so n of Pa n. a nd is n ow o n e of th e heavy m en .in th e Co mpan y. Th i littl e pet is a ve ry co ns pi cuo us pe r so n in th a t h e has hair of a de li g htful r ed hu e, which is m ost appea lin g to th e fair ex . And. mor eo1·e r, h e i quite a talke r. bcill',. a lw ays ready to a rg ue, n o matte r what th e ques ti o n i . If ome o n e I rin gs up a q u est ion . "Sho r ty'' i rea d y to d e fend th e op po in g s id . H · has a h ab it o f co mp a rin g thin gs to those of hi s ho me town . and from wh a t we hea r of that p lace. it mu st be o n e of til e g arden s pot s of th e wo r ld . !\nd last. hut not lea t f hi s pe rso naliti es. he i a pugilist of marked ab il ity. H e took lesso n s last yea r f r om a ve r y ab le teach e r. a nd was at th e e nd o f that yea r rea d y to defy a ll Pinkney H al l. In summin g up. we may say th a t .. ho rty" is one o f whom t he C lass of 1917 ca n ll'e ll be proud. H e has alwav ca rri ed off hi s share of l a nr e l ~ in acade mi c work. a nd i a goo d ma n in a ll coll ege ac ti1•iti es. Final ly. we may ay. he has played with Plato. d in ed with Diogen cs. c lawed with Claudius . sk ipped with Sk ipi o and ripp ed w ith E uripid es. SAMUEL \\' l<~ SLEY 'FH.EJ!::\'Y, -" Cu ck oo," " Hu ggy \\'hip, " " Sam " Hebro n , Md. L ATI K- SCI EN'I' IFI C "A s for th r 1/ 'ollte /1, th oug h wr scant a11d j/o11/ 'r 111. tt·c 111ay li1·e t ith. bttl ca11n ot li1•r w ith out the 111.'' Seco nd g rad e C c rti l·i cate ( l ); Corpo ra l Company ' 'A" ( 2 ) : Cia s Ser<>eant-at-1\ rm s (2, 3): S e ni o r RiA e C lub ( 1. 2, 3); thleti c Edit o r R A'I'- T .I T (3); B a e ba ll T ea m ( I. 2. 3); F ir t S e rgea n t Co mp a n y ''B '' (3) : Ass istant Manage r Footbal l T ea m (3) ; E lected M a n age r o f Foo tba ll for 1916; Mark sman (2); Star . i''fotto : '"l'o d o , o r· leave rur do ne ." I N D reade r. th e gentl e ma n- for suc h he j ok in g ly st y les him el f- uJ o n who m yo u now gaze. is a tr iA e less t han even feet tall a nd a triA e mor e than a foo t w id e. Hi . le nd e r f o rm ha s won fo r hi m , 1 a rti c ularl y in th e ba ba ll rea lm. th e tit le f "Buggy Whip." But so m e wh e r e up 1n the hi lls of o ld vVe tern Mary land ther e is o n e to who m th e t rm "Buggy \\ ' hip" would ca rry n o intelli gence. But sof tl y brea the t he word .. a m.' ' a nd th en- ah. t h en- the m a ide n co njures up be fo re he r mind 's eye sce n es in whi ch t he blith a thl e te play · cl th e par t of a n arden t lo ve r. '' Th ose were cl ays swee t to think o n .' ' S in ce re turnin g to Co llege. '· a m ' ' r ece i ve and se nd a letter a t regul a r rec urrin g intena l o f tim . Som e tim es t he e e pi st les ar c. in substan ce. " meet m e in Baltim or ." o r 'Til be in Baltimore un cia~· ... a nd that cit y. a t the week-end. is the po int a t wh ich th e r o ut e of " Sa m '' fro m Annapoli a nd she from Ha ge r stow n int e rsect . e ttin g sc riou . . ·'C uckoo ... for that is hi pet n a m · in Co llege. is o ne o f th e hi g men of our cl~ ss. Sta n d in g well in academi c wo rk . hav in g a bu siness head for manag e r ship s· a nd th e lik e. a nd bein~· a star in at hleti c . ' 'Cuckoo'' is g rad ua lly plodding hi s wa1· u p th a t immo,·t a l JT'ounta;n of fame . w hose populati n a t th e ummit is no t so den se. o mu ch fa ith ha1·e we in him. we ored; ct that he wi ll he - W hat ? M e Ca ll! W ell. I gues h e wi ll ! 87 �\\TLLJ ~t H A R.'l '\ VEJ.;[_, HAR.RJSON,- "S noolwm s ," ".Uidd l e Hive r·," " Willi e ," Midd le Riv e r , Md. '·A har111less necessary indi·< •idnal." Juni or RiA e C lub ( l ); Se ni or RiA e C lu h (2. 3); Sergeant Ba n d (3); R.<\'1' - T .IT Board (3); Ph il o ma th ea n (I. 2. 3): Bas ket Ba ll Sq uad (3); Ma nd olin C lu b (2. 3) . M.otto: "Do noth.in g wi se wlti1 e t h e r·e a t·e stiJI foo lis h thi ng · to do." T. JOH J ·s su1 e ri o ri ty o1·er \'\'ashington Co ll ege was aptly illu tr a ted in th e fall 19 13. wh en th eir yo un g Ba ltimor.e Co unti a n e nt e ~ ed our mid st. afte r e r vin g tw o years a t th e Chestertown In stitution. "S nookums' has been mu ch benelited by th e ·enee r of vVa shin g ton Co ll ege ha s wo rn off to uch a n ex tent th at soo n cha nge; th e 1 we hope to see him a li ni shed product. o n afte r ente rin g. h e ea rn ed th e n a me of '; S nooku m s,'' a n d succeed ed in li1·in " thro u a h that 11rst year, m a inl y beca u e h e a ttracted as litt le attention as possib le and behaved in a 1·e ry " fre hmanl y' ' m a nn e r, sh ow in g hi s face on ly upon th e tenni s co urt, and th en o nl y on rare occas ion s. ln fact. it is at tenni that ''Midd le Ri,·er" shows hi s g rea test a bility in th e athl eti c lin e. H is chi ef oppo n ent is Prof. Sturd y, and he has ucceeded in ge tting li cked by thi ta ll in d ividu a l. But sti ll th er e a r e quite a few in the sch oo l who ha1·e fa ll en bef o re hi s ex hibition of th e r acquet spo rt. ''S noo k ,. has a l o s hown us so methin " a t basket bal l. vVh en it co mes to mu sic. you can't lose him. He pla y a violi n li k e a veteran. works a n a lt o in th e Co ll ege Ba nd, i alway hangi ng away at a co rn et a nd has hi gh hope o f becomin g bugler nex t yea r. Hi s ab il ity as a fu. se r was not k no wn unti l this year. when he s ur pri eel e1·eryo ne by j oin ing the Cot ill on Club, and so far he has not mi ssed a d an ce. ;,\1\ ' illi e" does n ot a lw ays m a ke the hon o r roll. but wh en he doe n't. th er e's a reason ( Ja ,·ender epist les). vVell. taken a a wh ole, " Snooks" is one yo u always like to ha1·e a round , de spite hi s foo li shn ess a nd noi se, o h ere' s hop in g he wil l be with us n ex t yea r. C'EC'fL C'A R EY ,JARI\tAN, - "Pete," " Car·el·" Chestertown, Md. Sc T Tli'IC £N " Th e greatest 111 en. are genera lly th e ones If 'h o thin/? th e 1n sehes th e least so." la ss ] res ident (2. 3): V a rsity Footba ll (2. 3); B a eba ll ( I. 2. 3 ; B a k et Bal l ( 1. 2. 3 ) : orpora l Co." •· (2); First Se r" eant Co. "A '' ( 3) : Junior RiA e Clu b ( 1) : :Ma rksm an (2) : Class Ba ket B a ll ( 2 ); Bu sin es Manager R AT - T AT ( 3 ) ; Mem ber Student Senate (3); Phi igma l(appa; Jun e Ball Co mmittee. ~lotto : "It's t b e fi s h t h at ope ns its m o n t h too ofte n t h at gets cau g h t." EHOI..D! \ Ve hav e befo re us "Chu ck.'' t he co mbinati on bed -dumpe r. bomb- mak e r . " mo vin g van" and "water thrower'' of P in kney H a ll, in hi Fre hman an d op ho'e more yea rs- and we have every reaso n to be li e1 that he is ca rr yin g out hi s re p; utat ion thi s yea r o n Juni o r Hoor. l.a t yea r h e gave lon g ( ?) and int r est in o· (?) speec hes. wh n he had li ttle to do. but th i yea r he ha "O t dow n to ha r I work ( ?) and ca n hardl y be seen o ut of hi s room afte r 7.30 P . 1£. Shou ld your summe r journeys tak e yo u to th a t place on the Eastern Sho re ca ll ed Che tert ow n. you wi ll e ith e r see him ho ldi ng dow n a box in fro n t of a ll'e ll -kn ow n cigar store. ta lking abo ut him self ( ?) or strollin g do wn th e m a in tr eet with ca noe paddles a nd a fa ir on e. wh ose nam e I'll n ot ex po e. ·e H e has th e habit of usi ng- ;. c: ee?" af te r n ea rl y e1 ry senten ce. uch a '·I'm so rry to lea 1 yo n so oo n to ni g ht. 'Po lly ,' but it's ge ttin g ra th er ear ly, see? " ·e H e is a star in a thl eti cs. bein g on a ll the vars ity teams; and by th e time Jun e. 19 17. co m e . h e wi ll h a 1 ga in ed the rep utation o f being on e of the best a ll -aro und a t hletes thi s ·e o ld choo l h as produ ced . "See Carey" is on e of the mos t popu la r men in C: choo l. and . in our pinion. w ill m ak e a succe ss in any lin e of bus in ess. so "h e re' to hi s success." "Now Smil e." 89 �ROBEBT H OBJ_,JTZELL MADOOX ,- ''P r is ," " B o bby" P rin cess A nn e, Md . .. 1'-/e is /~af>fy whose circu111st ances su·it his te'lllf>er; but he is 111ore ex cellent 7 •fl o ca 11 suit his telllf>er t o aHy cirr iiiii Sia uces.'' Secreta ry Class ( I. 2. 3): Libr ar ia n Philoma th an ( I ); Sec reta ry (2); Vice-I res ident {3); Y. 11. C. . (2) : Sec retary At hleti c As oc iation (3) ; Colo r Sq uad (3); J uni or Ritle Cl ub ( 1, 2, 3); P. E. I(; Ju ne Ball Co mmi ttee . .\·l ott o: " To b e a cm u ·t j este r· whe n cve r·y man is ld n!!;. " H I S mil d-ma nn e.~· ed /ou th join ed us in the a d y fa ll ?f 1913. H e oon earned the name o f "Pnsclil a, bu t ha 1n ce lost h1s n g ht to 1t. H1 s dom ici le wa o n the fo urth t·loo r of Pinkne~· 1-Iall, a nd it was of t n hi s p ri,·ilege to ob ta in c iga rette and o th e r wa nts for the roya l Sophom res. He imm ed iate ly s howed hi s ab ility as a tud ent and hi s na me oo n appea red r egul arl y on t he hono r ro ll. B u t as wa beco min g to a Fres hm a n. he neve r ma de h imse lf co nsp icuou. . Ear ly in h is F r e. h man yea r he was ca lled u po n to show hi s ta lent as a n 01 era s inge r befo re th e mi g h ty Soph o mo re , a nd well did he perfo r m hi task. si n g in g ''I'm Af ra id to Go H o me in th e Da rk,'' in acce nt sweet a n d low. Car uso him el f II' Ould have been jeal us. But it was as a Soph omo re that l1 bega n to show hi s tr ue wor th. H e h lei office in e th let ic As ociat ion. H avi ng dec id ed th at a literan· li fe h is class. L ite ra.ry oc iety a nd at co ll ege d oes not bri ng enoug h fame a lo ne. he mad e u p hi s mind th at he wo ul d- how h im. el f on th e cind er t r ack. He d id so. a nd the onl y r easo n he d idn ' t obta in a monog ra m was that they we r e not g il'en to th e wh o le quad . In hi s Sophomore yea r he, bear ing no ill wi ll to wa rd hi s o ppr esso r o f the year befo re. dec lared peace wit h one an d took him as a r oo m-mate. Th e unf o rtun a te one wa s "Fats" A ndr ew. and we a ll sy mpa t h ize d with him; bu t evident ly "Fats'' d idn ' t know how to e cape. fo r he ca me back th e econ d yea r for mo r . But. g ivin g th e dev il h is clu e. "Pt·is" is a fi ne fell ow a n d one o f th e most po pul a r men in the Schoo l. If he shows th e same characte r a nd determ ina t ion in his la te r life that he does now. we fe el sur e he wil l be a n hono r to hi s A lma Mater. J O H N \\' . X O BLE,- P r es to n, Mel. " .Bill " L ATIN - CIEI\TIF IC Class Se rgea nt-a t-A rm s ( 1); Footba ll Team ( 1. 2. 3); Track T ea m ( I. 2); R esen·e Baseball ( 1. 2); eco ncl Grad e Ce rti fica te ( 1. 2); Glee Club ( 1. 2, 3); Co ti llon Cl ub ( 1. 2. 3): Co r po ra l Co. "B'' (2); Q ua rte rm as te r- e r ·eant Co. '·B'' (3) : Hop Co mmit t e (3) : .R.IT -T .\T (3); Board in g Clu b (3) ; P hil o ka li a n Lite ra ry ociety ( 1, 2. 3); Jun e B a ll Co mmit tee. M otto: " An~· thin g wo •·th d o h w a t all is w o •·tl:l d o hw well. " 00 1 who' '- here! \\' e do not have to ask where he i f rom . Yo u ca n t II an Eas t.e n~ :·.Sho' ma n' ' by hi ~ fa ce. n o ma tt e r whet:e h e may roam. ' B dl en te red 111 our l• r es hm a n yea r un so ph 1St1 catecl a nd ve rdant .. H e has been s how in rr th e way ta al l of the m in foot ba ll and track a nd promi ses mu ch in baseha ll. H e was picked by two tate pape rs as 1\1 1 -Ma r yla ncl encl. J·Ie ha ga in ed ;:ome expe r ience on th e R ese r l'es behin d th e bat. a nd we exf ect th at he will be ab le to fi ll "Buck'' .H a u1·e r 's sho e . s a tu clent he has bee n one of th e sh inin g lig hts of th e Clas a nd th e hon o r r oll would fee l Jo. t wi t ho ut him. fo r he has received seco n d g rade ce rti fica te each y a r. O n the pla tf o rm he r ep re en ted the Coll ea in the Interco ll egiate Orato ri ca l Contes t in hi Freshman yea r. . But it is not o n th e g ridiron. not on the ci nd er pa th. no t in th e clas room, not as an o rato r, that he shines the most. Bu t ra th e r at th e dance and in t he pa r lo r with- -. Let us not steak furth e r . O m lady f ri en ds go home el i a ppo int ed from a da nce i f they ha1·e not had a t lea t ne da nce with that ·'cha rmin g Mr. Nob le." Late in "Bi ll' s'' Sopho mo r e yea r th a t mi g hty "Nabob horty" r ecogni ze d hi s mili ta ry ab ilit ie a nd made him a co rp o ra l. Thi s yea r th e litt le g ia nt o f th e kin gly ,·o ice made him g r ea te r- mas te r-s rgea n t a nd a sig ned him to r ul e o1·er t he fou rth Aoo r Pink ney. "Bil l" has r ul ed wit h th e <>Teat and ste rn ha n d o f ju stice. 91 �wrLL rAJ\1 HA WKES PR.l E,- "Din gbat," "Bill" S now Hill , Md . L .\TIN -SCIENT I FIC ··1 o yo n co<•e l /ea rni11g's f>r·i::c .l Cli111 b It er !t eig!tts an d take it. /11 ourscl1•es our f ort uu e lies; Life ·is w !t at we 1110kr it ." First Grade Ce rti lica te ( 1 ) ; \ ; ice-Presid ent of Class (2) : tar Seco nd Grade Ce rti lica te (2); H op Co mmitt ee (2); Glee Clu b (2); Class Ba sel all T eam (2); Liter a ry Ed it o r RAT-TAT (3); F irst Sergea nt Principal; 1 sician o f Band ( 3); Footb<~ ll Squad (3); Vfu Phi loka li a n Lit era ry ociety ( I, 2, 3) ; Juni o r RiA e Club ( I. 2, 3) ; ha rp hoo ter (2) ; Bu in ess fi.Janage r R AT-T AT (3). l\totto: "On w a t·d ! " HIS littl e bright-eyed bundle o f I rilli a nt wit, th e eve r- ready "D in gba t.". is a shin ing tribu te f ro m th a t pa rt of th e Ea te rn Shore of Maryland known as .. fh e L and of the Eve rg r ee n ." O nl y once. in th e Batt le of F eminin e Charm at Fo rm a l Hop du rin g hi s seco nd year. ha he appear ed to recognize a s upe ri o r force. Th e g r acef ul step. th e a nge lic smil e, th e lustr e o f her eye, a ll becla zz l cl and bewi lde r ed him wit h mo re th a n me re tran sient e ffect. So photography, hi s pre vious ly prim ary hobby, has s uffer ed to become entir ely ncl it is ev id ent that he has rep la ced by the fi ne art of fie rcely fri ncll y lette r-writin g. made g rea t progre s in thi s pleasant 1 as t im e, fo r th ey (w ith rosy cheeks a nd wings i111·isibl e) do not hes it a te to aclclre s him with th e famil iar "Bi ll , cl ea r." A cia sma tes. we recogni ze d hi s unu sual execut ive ability. and in o ur Sophomore vea r made him o ur V ice-Pres id ent. V Vhil e he wa fa ithfull y att endin g to class matte r s. ;,,aking m a ny wi e suggesti on for whi ch we fee l g reatly ind ebted to him, we also noti ced hi s hl os omin g g r ace on th e da nce Aoor. \ >\l ith th e int ell ectual wor ld beckoning him , with this bri ll iant r ecord pushin g him. and with ambiti o n pu ll in g him , we a re sur e "Bill'' wi ll leave us to rea ch tl1 e s ummit of legal fame a nd domestic ha ppin es . ;JOHN 'l' R.N B LL SPTCRNALL,-"H ed s ," "~picl, ," 2112 E. Baltimo r e St. , Baltimore, Md. "Re vet·end" L A'f l N - S CI EN'fl FJ C ''A 111 a11 in all t!t e w orld's new fashi on planted, Thai lt ath a 111i11d of phrases in his brai11 ; One, who 111 th e 11111sir of his own long ul! . Doth ·vosage like puclt ant·iu.g ha.nii OII.\'. ''- SH '' KF.S.PE.\RJ·: . Glee Club (2. 3); Choir ( 2, 3); Track S tuad (2) : V ice-Presid ent Y . M. C. . ( 3 ) ; P res ident Y. ?vf. C. . (3 ; S econd Grade Certi fica te (2); Corpora l Co. "A '' (3): Stud ent ena te (.3 ); Business Ma nage r R AT-TAT (3). l\1otto: "To eat, dt'ink {gt:ape -jrti ce ) and b e m e n 1··" ERE is the genui ne a rti cle impo rted dir ec tly fr m B altimor e, th e co mbin a tion Y. M . C. . a nd Chee r L eade r. Th e onl y one of its kind in ca ptivity. As a Y. lv.l.. C. A. leade r, he is, as i all o ther enterpri ses, a roarin g ucc ss. H e ha s rea ll y work ed wond e r and the a ttend a nce is steadi ly improv in g. On one or tw o occa ion s he has been allow ed to stay in Dr. Schum ac he r' a nd Prof. turd y' clas es fo r the who le hour. Most of th e time. how c,•e r. he has been g i,·en th e pri vilege o f usin g tho se hour s as a stud y pe riod . H e ha so perfected him elf in appropri a tin g these pe ri o ds for hi ow n use tha t it is ha rdl y nece sary for him to includ e th em in hi s schedu le. " Spick" intend d to go throu g h hi s fir t yea r with o ut deme rit s, but was ho rri l1ed to fi nd that deme rit were g iven fo r "t urnin g hea d in rank s.'' Sin ce th en he ha s decided th at demerit shou ld be used in th e sa me way as cuts-use all the reg ul ation s all ow. "Reds'' ente red a a Soph omore. H e ave r aged 4.55 th e fi r st month . a nd has in ce that time maintain ed a hi gh schol as ti c tan lin g. He was mad e a co rporal hi seco nd yea r a nd ho wed him self to I e a ·ood gene ra l ove r eig ht men. For th e futur e. we may predi ct mu ch for Spi ckna ll. H e at ta cks a n enterprise in which he ente r s with integ rit y a nd det ermin a ti on, and th ese two a ttr ibutes wi ll ca rry him fa r in rea li zin g hi s wo rthy a mbition . 93 �liEN R.Y LAU R.E N SO~ DAS HIELDS STA NFORD , JR. , -"J3 u cJ;:," " M_ se, " P ri ncess Anne , J\IId. o L ATJN-SC.If.NTIF JC ''Slende1 of f onn, shapely of li111b. · H ow nwny 111aide· s hm•e fa ll en fo r h,-111 !' ' n Ph iloka lia n Lit er a ry Society (2, 3); Rx r-T AT B oa rd (3) : Co mmitt ee o n Co llege Traditio ns (3); Class Hi sto ri a n (3) : Pre icl ent' s P ri ze fo r B il. le St ud y (2); Secrebry Y. 1L C. . (3). !\:Lotto: ''S leep." OF FER f r yo ur in spec ti on a s pecimen. which wa fo un d in th e jungles o f th e Ea te t·_ Shore. Th e party of scienti fic in vest igat o r s who fo und th e a bo1·e ( pec im n J n we re g rea tl y o1 rj oyed . for they tho ug ht th at at last. th ey had fou nd th e mi sin g lin k, ·e and th a t "Da rwin' " th eo ry was definitely 1 ro1·en . Many lee pl ess ni g hts we re pas eel by num er ou sc ienti sts who tri ed to cle1·i e a name fo r th e a bove. but th ey ha1·e f ailed . "God made it. so let it pass for a man ." r imi nals may shed their tripe ; '' Ducky'' m ay save hi s time and chalk: "He r r Docto r '' may stop hi s "hu ll in g .' ' a nd e1 ·en ·' S ho rty' ' may raj se a mo ustache but thi s ~pecim en will ne1 r cha nge. "Once a n ut. a lway a nut.'' said George \1\las hin gto n, as he at sippin g hi s •e Coca-Cola o ne clay. a nd thi s sa ying hit s th e spot. Cong r e may ha 1 it filibu ster s, 19 15 may ha ve it M oon . but we r es t sec ur e in th e ·e pose sion of " M oe'' Stanfo rci-"M ose." who co ml in e th e sih·er tongue of a Dcmosthenes with the pe r uas i ,-e power of a leopa tra: ''1Jo e." who slou che hi feet forward in mo,·ement. o mew he r c betw een a waclcl le and a trot. when he wa lks. \1\'hen this handso me ·yo uth j o in ed us in lea rnin g a yea r ago. a g r ea t fee lin g o f j ealou y sp rea d o1·e r th e who le stud ent body. fo r the boys we ll kn ew that with th e R o meo of th e twentieth centu ry in the ir mid st. th eir chan ces with th e Juli ets wo uld be near ze r o ( ?). H owe,·e r. "Mo e'' did not mind thi s and he went on loving a nd being lo,·ecl just t he sa me ('). JOH N 1\U' Bl) OCl \: S 'l'O H.l\1., -".Jo hJm~· ," "L1.1dy" Boo n s bo r o, Mel . L.1T1 N-SC1£NTIF IC " L·i tlle b,-ts of j>o·wder, little b·its of t>a ,-nt. Malte 'Ladv' loo lt lilte-j ust w ltat site ai n't .'' Treas ure r of Class (2. 3): Se nior RiA e Club ( 1. 2. 3 ; H op Co mmitt ee (3): R IT-TAT B oa rd (3); Co lleg ic Board (3): Colo r Gua r d (3); P. 1 [. G.: Ju ne Ball Co mmitt ee. 111 Motto: "To beco me ha nd so m e ." ')FINN Y. th e ta r of \ I ash in g to n Co unt y, ca me to us in th e fall of 1917. He ga,'e hi . V nam e to Dr. Fell as 1I r. to rm . but sin ce has become known as "J o hnn y" and "Lady. " a nd meekly li ves up to th e sa me. In hi s Fre hm a n year he was a g r ea t fa1·o ri te a mong th e Sophomores. a nd the)· showed tl1is by g i1·ing him littl e trip to make up tow n befo re ten. but if "J o hnn y'' co uld ma ke Sa m Freeny's clothe s pre s befo re that time. he was n ow here to be fo und. in ce last yea r he i a littl e more caref ul in ,·isitin g, a nd also has a li ttle g rud ge aga in st " P•·is.'' for Professo r Gray ca ug ht him un der Stanford's bed. ''P ri s'' pu hin g him o ut. hut not ge ttin g caught h imsel f. John has a lway s roo med a lo ne befo re. hut when he cha nged to Ra ndall H a ll. he also tho ug ht he wo uld chan ge thi s id ea. by t a kin g a hubby. the lu cky per on being no les than a n old oa l. ''M o e" tan ford. "L.~ch· " is a hear with th e ladi es and at tend s all th e hop. taking so me fair 1 fa ryla nd damsel. ,;-hom he swings with d li g ht. To f\ t one tim e ' " t yea r it was r epo rted _ ltn wa s go in g o ut for t rack. lut he cha nged his mind when h hea rd "P ri s" was also go in g out. "_l oh nn y" i l'ery popu la r with th e Fre hmen. a nd has often co ntem plated giv in g th em a Pink T ea . but as yet. it has not come off. But with all jokes a id e. J ohn is one of the T pop ul ar fe ll ows in o ur class. a nd is co nsid ered one of o ur ha ndso me m n. 'F- is a good worke r. and no do ubt will become a howling succes 95 �ERXEST O'l'TOl\lA I~ YOl'i SC' HW .EHD'l' :\l•~ B, - "P • ·etze l s" Annapolis, Md. L.I'I'I N - S 11-: NT IFJ C "And st·ill th ey ga:::c a· d still tl1 cir ~ ondrr g rows, n f-low his s111all head can carry all he ln/O'U.'S .., Phi lomathean Lite rary Society ( I, 2. 3): Stars (2, 3); Lite•·ary Ed ito r Hxr- T .1T (3); Sergeant Co. "A" (3); Junior Rifle luiJ ( 1, 2, 3); i\J a rk sma n (2); F irst Grade Certilica te (2). ~fotto: "Do all )'Otl can fot· Ge J'lnany. " ORN so mewh ere in the wi lds of Germany, he pos esses a ll th e q ua liti es of a tru e Ge rman. Tho e who doubt thi s. ma); ' just ask him abou t th e wa r and prepare for a long a rg um ent on ho w Germa n y's go in g to win. H e ca me t o S t. J ohn' w ith hi g h a mb ition a nd. ind ee d, ha s not fa ll en short. He is o ne o f th e bes t s tudents in the class, ne,·er fa ilin g to get on th e "Hon o r R oll." H e clecla r s hi s g r ea test amb ition is to go back to hi s Fatherland a nd light with hi s ·e fa th e r for Ge rm a ny. But th ose who know h im best belie1 th at he is perf ectl y sa ti sfied with tayin g on thi s sid e of th e tla nti c. "Pretzels." '' Bill'' a nd "Adol [" for m the noted Ge rm an tri o of St. J oh n· . S ay so meth in g agai nst any o ne a nd watch th e oth er tlu te r up . As far as we know , he ca res nothi ng for th e lad ies . but he is in hi s pr im e whe n he can ki ck so me one else a bout the fair sex . H e may ha1·e a <T irl in th e co untry to whom he is true and for thi s reaso n keep s away from th e g irl s a ro un d he r e, but if thi s is tru e he ha s kept it from us. Spea king o f him as a military man. we ma y ay th a t he ha s been wearing star s for two years, which mea ns two yea r of ha rd wo rk to keep from rretti ng dem e rit s. A s a S e r<rea nt in o. ·' " he is un excel led in perf or min g hi s duti es a n d a lw ays do es wh at he belie,·e. to be ri g ht in di scharg in g hi milita ry dutie . He's alway wi llin g to help a nyo ne with th eir studi es in any way he can. T o s um up, he i one of th e best men a t sc hoo l. a hard work e r a nd a true clas mate. V\ 'e wi h him mu ch s uccess in any fie ld of lif e whi ch he decid es to ent er. l Clin to n , Md. CA R.L'.l'ON B URG ESS,-"D ic k" ScJ £N'flF IC '' Y et. if 11/ l' ll nw<•e d h·i111, ·is hr such a stor111 As oft 'tzvi:l't J\Ja.y and At>1·it is t o see." B aseba ll T ea m (2); Senio r R ifle Clu b (2 ); Humorous Editor R .1T-T.1'1' (3) . ~'lotto : " \\' h e n a ng •·.r, co unt ten-i f ve•·r a ng •·.\·- do n 't co u n t at a ll ." N £ co ld 1·intery cl ay ii1 F ebruary. when the fr o t wa thi ck enoug h to mak e g um 1 d rops as har I as walnut s. we di scovered a new face in Pi n kney Hall. Vl/e oo n lea rn ed that ''Di ck'' Burgess had thrown in hi lot with us for keeps, and . ash ee mecl to be o [ a piritecl and unohtr usi1·e nature. we imm ed ia tely fe ll for hi s r ady wit just lik e th e "fems'' all do- we lea rn ed thi s late r . No w. a lth o ug h Dick s wapped o\·er from U. A. C., he e\·icl ently ha d no mea n fo und a ti on in scho las ti c wo rk. for he strai g htway made th e Sophomore Class a nd was solemnl y "tak en in " sa id orga ni zation in Mar ch. with all ···ct ue ce remon y.'' Sin ce th at notable occasion ··Dick·· ha s steadi ly a ri sen in ever br anch of co ll ege wo rk and a thl eti cs that h e ha s taken up as well as in pop ul a rit y with th f ell o ws. In the Sprin g Di ck ha ndl ed th e big mitt and sti ck so mas terl y th a t he ma d e a ll th e ya rs ity trip s in baseba ll. I t was abo ut thi s tim e th a t we eli co 1 ed o ne of hi ·er ecrets of popula rity with th e f a ir sex-da ncin g. H e is never m re at ea e than wh en he ha ome at tract i1·e "fem'' tu cked und er hi s right wing and. with her. in smo ot hin g up th e gy m . fl oo r by "tripping the li g ht fa nt ast ic.'· VV e o·i,·e him th e mo r e credi t for kee pin g off her da int y •·t rippe rs'' as hi s ow n occ upy co n. icl e rab le Aoor roo m. H owe,·e r, w a ll know "Dick'' to he a s stea dy as a Aag pol e. tem perate in a ll thin gs. and. above a ll. good hearted. But o n the other hand . he is lik e a ma tch-too mu ch fri ction will sta rt a Aa me which is lik e ly to pro1·e eli astrou to th e in ti gato r, for thi Sou th ern gentl ema n ha s hi s sha re of goo d "South o f t he M aso n-Dixon'' pep a nd sc rap . T rea t "Dick" lik e a ma n and y u wi ll ne1 r r egret the friend yo u ha1·e made. ·e 97 �J'OH :\' C. FELL,- A nn a poli s, Md . ";John" CJ£ 1\"I' IFJC '·B ut 1 on ·it. l !t m•e L d 1/> o<•e Three w !t ole days loge/It er ; And l/.1 11 lik e to lo<'e t!tree 111 orc If it f>r07'es fa ir we a.t!t er.'' Soc ia l Ed ito r R A T-T AT (3 ) : P hil o ma thea n L itera ry S oc iety ( I. 2. 3); T enni T ea m ( 2. 1. 1. 2. 3); Phi S ig ma K appa (2. 3 ); Juni o r Ri fle Club ( I. 2. 3) ; Fo ur t h Se rgea n t · Co. ··B" (3'. ~lotto: "Ladi e s, l ove a nd te nnis fot: e ve r·." H N ca me to us as a secon d P rep. H e was quit e a stud en t du rin g h is fi rst tw o yea rs a nd stood a mon.g the li rst thr~e in the c.lass. Bu t g rad ua ll y "J o hn '' became i n fat ua ted w1th th e fa1re r sex a nd enj oye d da nc1ng. so f o r a whil e he t oo k a no t1 on t hat too mu ch wo rk was n ot g ood fo r him . H e fo ll owe d thi s po li cy fo r a bo ut a yea r. but now he has se ttl ed dow n a n d is d oi ng so me g oo I, t ead y wo r k. " f ohn" a lso has a reputa ti on a s a tenni s play e r and is ra ted as on e o f th e bes t we ha,·e. H e has been a mem be r o f the tea m fo r fo ur yea rs. and d urin g thi tim e has ma d e quite a di sti ngui heel reco rd. Of ten in the S prin g- tim e he ca n be een stea lin g a way a ro un d dril l tim e to ta ke a sa il u p the S e ve rn in hi ca noe. l t is stra nge how ·'J o hn " ma nage to escape th is belov ed tim e of th e d ay w hen e \·e rybody ma rche out on the d rill g r oun d. T her e ve ry seld om ha ppe ns to be a h op. unl ess th e ta ll. g r acef ul f o rm o f ''Jo hn '' is see n s waying in a nd ou t a mong t he " fa ir one ," look in g dow n into hi pa rtn e r's liquid o rbs. H e is a lso seen wa lkin g the back ca m pus Ye ry often. o ve r the fa mo us o ld g 1f cour se. wh1 ch he see ms nev e r to d ese rt . "J ohn." no do ubt. loves hi s unif o rm. but wheneve r an o ppo rtun ity pr es ents it el f yo u ca n see him c ree p into hi s "cits'' a nd heat it do wn- tow n . Hi rre nero ity a n d g ood n atur . toget he r wit h hi s hum o r . m a rk h im as a g ood fell ow a mon g th fe ll ow stu den ts. 'vVe a ll wi sh him t he best o f lu ck w hen he . ta rt s o ut in li fe. ,JOSEPH"'· 1\fc C'Ol\'IAS,- "Joe," "Mac," "Pt·ea chCJ·," Oa kl and, Md . S c i£NTin c "!11 Balt·i1110re is a lad\• richl v left. A nd she is fa i r. au d .' fa.ir e,: tlt a.11 tit at wo rd . Of ~vo nd e ·r o us 'i'irtu es ... Co rp o ra l Co. " B' ': K . . Fra te rnity : Co t il lon Club: Ba se ba ll Sq uad: R .\J'-T .\T Boa nl. Motto: " Br hook o r· cr·ook I wiJl s ucceed ." NE d a.y. lat e in S eptem ber . ..some one sa '." a tall. . s tr ~! ght yo un ~ man c ross i ~; g: tl~~ ca m pu s a nd asked t h1 s q ues t1 o f some one nea r h1m : 'vV ho 1S th 1 Man ne 111 c1ts. on o n th e que tio n wa s ans we r ed. but it was fou nd th a t in tead o f be in g a Marin e he was a " has bee n'' M a j o r of Cha r lotte H a ll. S in ce t ha t tim e "Joe'' has shown h i milita rY abi lity a nd th e r e a r po ibil it ics that be fo re he lea ,·es he may be M a j o r again . No w. " T o~ '' is a ma n o f r a th r few wo rd s and yet ne,·e r ap J ea r s to be qui et. F o r thi s r easo n and ·s eve ra l ot he rs he i ve ry pop ul a r. "J oe" does not a ppear to be mu ch o f a '·lad ies' man .' ' hu t if one woul d ju st watc h. t he ma il a n d co unt th o. e weet cent ed pi n k epi ties it wo uld Jea,·e no d oubt in a ny on 's p11n d. H e decla res tha t he is a Mi sogy ni st. bu t no one belie,·es h im. . \ \ ' hen it co mes to baseba ll. "J oe's'' the re. H e has had ha rd lu ck and has been s1 ck d uring th e one seaso n he ha s been with us. o we ha ,·e only had a g limp e of wha t he ca n d n. A ll a re loo k in" forward to see a seco n d " Chri ty M at hewso n'' in th e co ming sea on . Hi fi r st " wif e ., who wa s kn own a " R u ty.'' set a p retty ha r d pace fo r "j oe'' to fo ll ow: hut now. with hi ; new wi fe . ''Bull ." he has ju s t recen tly mad e hi s d ebu t in A nna po lis soc ietY. £,·er y o ne wh o kn o ws " Toe" sees in hi m a ma n w ith a futu r e. I e rhaps. he may he a g rea t d octo r : but. in an y pat h he may choose, we a r sur e he wi ll ucceed. 99 �HI C HARO W. 1\IJLLER,- '' ni c k" Annapol is, Mel . SCIE N'l..II'IC ·· So lli e of til e 111011/y sex a 111 0 11g 'ItS are s o ejj"e lll ·i na / e Ilia/ th ey 7J.IOIIid rath er lim •c flu! cO IItiii OII Weal tli o 1tl of o rd l' r tlimt tli e·i r hair." Juni o r RiA e C lub ( 1) ; Senior Rifl e C lub (2) ; :-1'a rk m a n ; I hil o kalian Lite r a r y Societ y; Cot ill o n Clui.J ( I. 2. 3); C lass Baske t Ball T ea m (2); Cla ss Foo tba ll T ea m ( 2) ; Footba ll Squad (.3); Base ball Squad (2); H AT-T i\'r Board (.3); Fir t Co q o ral Co. "B '' (2) ; C lass Rin g Co mmittee. Motto: "A g h·l , a. g il'l , m y hea.r·t fo r· a g ir·l." I CH A_RD W . .M.ILLER, th e famou s l~ u _in es~ man a nd th e n ea tes t a nd mo st m et hod ical , m a n 111 th e world, ca m e to St. J o hn s 111 h1 s ea rl y te en s, he be in g o ne o f th e ba rt e r m e m be r s of the class. O n e of hi s f a m o u pa time s is to tell yo u how h e ne ve r got off t h e ho n or r o ll when a P rep. \ Vhat, ho! \• Vhat, ho ! Thi s m an is dan cin g m a d-see. Never sti ll for a minute in s uccess io n. A Jo,·e r from th e h ea rt and is sa id to ha 1 a warm spo t in hi heart ·e fo r State Ci r cle. B ut in lea1·in .,. th e fri1·o lo us part o f hi s ch a racte r be hind, yo u will fi nd, th at h e i a go od a ll round m a n o n th e at hl et ic lield . ea rn ing hi num e ra ls o n th e c lass bas ke t ba ll and f oo tb a ll team s. ~;~.....i \1\i e mu st h o w h a1·e a sho rt fJe Cp into hi s pri1·ate lif e. Fr o m th e p re e n 'jlro's pects w.e fee l afe in pred icting th at just as soo n a h e h as o btain ed that co 1 ted dipl o m a, he w ill ·e e nt e r upo n a ma trimonial ad1·enture th a t wi ll ma ke th e poet ic Jviiles Standi s h blu h with sh a m e. so fa1· a s dom es ti c happ iness is con ce rn ed. " Di c k"' is, a bo1·e a ll , good n a tur ed, and ha s omethin g o n a n yhocl y w h en it co mes to g uy i1 hi s m otto seem s to be " n e1·e r to o utcl ass th e 1 1g, ·est fo r fea r yo u rou se j ea lo usy. " a nd he has faithfull y fol lowed it o ut: a lso of la te. he ha s ta ke n a g r eat fancy to Ge rman , a n d as a r c ul t, g ives mu ch o f hi s tim e I? t hat m os t d es iral le subj ect. AJ_,FRl~ O HOl" S'l 'O X NOBLE, -"Noble" L ATl N- SCII'. NTJ FJC Cambridge, Md . ''A li ! ~CJ/iat a n o bl e 111 ·i11d is /i erei11 m1med , The cd11 rl ·ier 's . sclio l ar's, gl' ll f i ell tall's eyr, l o ll g ll c, sword." i\Ia rk s man (2): Tra c k (2); S eco n d G ra de Ce rti l·i cate (2 ) ; A r t Edito r R .1T-T .\T (.3 ); Co rp o ra l Co.·' ] ., (.3 ) ; G lee C lub (2, 3). ~·l otto: "Spe ak t hy mimi ." F a ll th e unrea l conditi o n s possib le th e abol'e is t he most preJ os te r o u . N e 1•e r ca n we rem e mbe r a tim e w hen " No bl e"' pu t me rrim en t und e r foot a n d c r cwecl up hi s co un tena nce int o such a plac id a nd cli gni liecl ai r oE impo rtan ce as di d he f or th e occas io n o f thi s p ho t og rap h. It wou ld appea r tha t th e ve ry fundam enta l ch a r acteristi cs of hi s lif e a re riou sn ess a nd rese r ved n ess, co u pled with a ce rt a in a mo unt of al oof ne ·. but no ass umpti o n cou ld he mo re untru e. Hum o r a nd th at facu lt y of en te rta in ing w hi ch i lack in o- in so man y peop le are a m ong .. N ob le"s" goo d qual iti es. For all h is humor a n d sen se of wit. thi s yo uth h as wi ll pow e r and th e a bility to maintain his po int e1·en again t t he cann o n ad in g of t he boi terou ' 'Duc hy"' o r a n o n sla ug ht of th imp regnab le "Jack. '' A rm ed with rea on a nd tl1 a t d eg ree of coo ln ess n eeded in the hea t of battle. "l\'o bl e'' re ta li ates w ith suc h fiery vigo r that hi s oppon e nt u sua ll y bea ts a r etrea t. And th i s pirit of dete rmin at io n is by no mean s absent in h is aca d e m ic work. F e w hon e less, a ll g rea e mo r e, a nd ce rta in it is th at f e w sta nd hi g h e r th a n he. It is li kewise in athletics. for o n th e Tra ck Squ ad "Nob le " ho ld a con picuo u and. ind eed, em ·io u s place. Th e re i o n e m o r e t ra it to be menti oned. n o t pa usin g with hi s re n o wn as a la di es ' ma n o r his ac hie1·e me n ts in th e M ilitary D e pa rtm e nt. a nd that is hi s acco mpli shm e nt as a ca rtoon ist. St ra nge it is how h e ca n cle 1 ·ise so m any e mba rr a s in g po sition s in wh ich to cl eJ ict hi s clas mat es and t h e P r ofs. To 1·e ri [y thi state ment , ca r ef u ll y exa min e th e pages of this book. T o um up , Na ture. it seem s. has e nd owed th is yo uth with th e ele m ent s esse nti a l to make li fe a succes s a nd th e wor ld be tt e r for hi s hav in g li ved in it. and h as put within hi g ra p t he power to add th e fi n a l touc h to a n y un derta kin g. "Noble," success t o yo u. old m a n. 101 I �IRA BRYA"T TAL'.rON,- "1. T." "Red.· " · Po c omoke C ity, Md . ScJENT JF JC "His <'oi ce was e<'er ge ntle and low." RNI'-TA T Board (3): Sec ret a ry Y . M. C. A. (2); T reas ur er Y. 1 L C. A. (3); P h iloka li a n L itera ry Society; j une Ba ll Co mmi ttee. Motto : "Re m e mbe •· th)· C •·eato •· i n th e days of thl· youth." I E!\ TLE r eade rs. it gi1·e on e g rea t pleas ure to b rin g to yo ur a tt ent ion Ira . our farfa m ed. re d- ha ire d fr ien d f rom tha t wo rl d- ren o wn ed place, th e Ea te rn • hore. .'\ h! . but how ma ny hea rt s of th e fa ir sex h ave fa ll en fo r th ose go lden locks, fo r Ira is a r us he r of the fai r ones and may be seen at e1·e ry ho p of la te w ith be ll s on. As a s tu de nt. he is a h a rd, con cienti ou s wo r ke r. and w hil e n ot sta ndin o· ou t as a s hinin g li g ht in h is stud ies, we fee l sure th a t h e w ill be with u s a t th e en d when the ro ll is ca lled . "Reel's " f a1·ori te pu r uit, howe1·er, is o r ato ry, a nd m any a t im e do we h ear him decla imin g to him se lf. w it hin th ose an cient wa ll s of P in kn ey. rega rdl ess o f th e fee lin gs of hi s un seen a ud ien ce. He has visio n s o f g r eat speec hes a nd fa mo us cases. 'vVe ca n ee him now stan d in g on th e pla t fo rm, thri lled with hi s in sp ir a ti on. th ose reel lock s Ra rin g, g i1·i11g ve nt to h is fee lin gs in wo rd s. bea uti f ul a n d irres istibl e. \t\l h er e Ir a shin es as a t ru e lig ht is in t he Y . M. C. A . room . F ew possess th e g rit to pr oc la im, be f o re an a udi e nce. th e ir 1 •iews on the etern al li ie a nd our re la ti on s to o ur M a ke r as he has clo ne. A pe rson clin g in g to th ose sterlin g rul es whi ch m oul d a n d s ha,pe c ha racter-rea l cha racte r- ca nn ot fa il. Th ei rs is the onl y kin d o f li fe tha t rea lly coun ts . Ir a 's a mbi tion is to beco me a m emb er o f th e ba r pr o f ess ion . If h e ent e r s thi s fie ld, or in wh a tne r lie ld h e m ay se ttl e, we a ll unite in wishin g him th e g rea tes t success. GRO. N. \\' EA \ 'E R,-" Fats" Baltimore, Md . S c .J £NT JF IC "Let It S s it down he re, with a packet of tobacc o An d a dri ll !?, artd tall? of art a-n•t ~vo t ne n .., H isto ri a n o f C lass ( 1) : Co r po ra l Co. ''A ., (2); Bas k et Ba ll T ea m (2); S ergea nt Co. "B '' (3); ]-fop Co mmit tee (3); H AT-T AT Boa r d (3); Cot illon C lub ( 1, 2. 3) ; M arks m a n ( 2); R ese r ve Foo tba ll ( 1, 2, 3); ss ista nt M a n ar,-e r Baseball (3) . Motto: "\Vin e , wom en a nd so n g I s what m a l•es .m e n go \\Tong." R OM th e co ld sh o res of th e No rt hla n d. in t he Sp rin g o f 19 12. to thi s pil e of lea rnin g drifted a f ur-c lad. aw k wa rd a nd In diffe rent yo uth . Upon ent e rin g Co ll ege he a lm ost u surp ed "'vV hi ske r s'" imm en se influ en ce i11 t11 e Fac ulty. B ut un de r g ui da nce of hi s roo m- ma tes. "D ut ch" a n d "Bill ,' ' a nd . by ca re fu l coachin g in da n cin g a nd hoot in g " Bu ll,' ' he soo n became used to co ll ege li fe. B ut too mu ch. fa ir readers. have we m ocl ell ecl a nd shaped thi s fa ir la d into a se cond Sl)a kespea re. fo r in th e c lass r oo m. he is a "bea r. " "Fats " is. by no mea ns, a la dy ha ter , fo r h e o ft en say : '' 'vVo uld th a t so me fa ir dam e mig ht m a ke lo1 to m e, th a t I may do ju sti ce to my bea uty." ·e At cl anci n o- Geo rge ca n sha ke a s li ppery foo t , an d fo r thi reason a ll o f th e g irl s a re w il d to da nce with him. \1\ 'e are a lso pr ou d to say th a t. in Geo rge. we ha ve a comin g a thl ete. ln ba ske t ha ll he has wo n hi s lett e r. a nd in footba ll , well it is dec id ed no w. t ha t he will eith er be a yars it ,· en d n ext yea r . o r ha lf. so yo u ee . my ge ntl e r·~·-t dc r s. th at w tt h a ll hi s fa ul ts . "F:-tt s" is :1 student. a n athl ete a!'cl a " ha le fe ll ow we ll m et.' ' " F ats ' " ind epe nd ent nature has ma de him on e o f th e mos t popul a r m en in the Coll ege, ::t nd we a ll w ish him a ll th e s uccess in th e wo rl d. 103 �~. l>ODGE W OODWAHJ),-"J>c ntsch," "J>o d ge" Anna p olis, Md. S C II\N 'l'IFJC ·· S ·i11cc i 11 la bur·iNg a11 d rcsti11g Life is diTided best , Let oth ers do th e /a bori11g. A 11 d 1 will do th e rest.'' A lumni Editor R x r-T AT (3); F oo tba ll T ea m ( 1. 2. 3); Co rpora l Co. "A" (2); Cor po ral Co. " B" (3) : Lite rary Society D ebate (I ); Juni o r Rifl e Club ( I. 2, 3); Co ti llon CluJ ( 1, 2. 3); P. 'H. 0. Fraternity; Philokalian Lite rary Society. 1\totto: "Be s u r·e r o n ar·e r·ig ht, th e n go ah ea d ." E h;11·e before us. lad ies and gent lemen, one of o ur represe nta ti 1 f ro m that wo rld ·es famo us met ropo li s. Crabto wn-on-the-Bay. Th e fir st g limpse we ge ne rall y g t of him i wh n we notice so methin g rese mbling a tub ro llin g up th sacr ed la ne. ju st a bout chape l time, each mo rnin g. H e generally hono r s us with hi s prese nce at th a t eve ry-day mo rnin g gatheri ng, a nd a ttend s clas e more or les reg ular ly. sometimes le . "D odge '' doe not see m to lose mu ch sleep o1·er studie . a nd relies on hi s looks to pull him thr oug h. At the hc,ps "Dodge" i not wantinu-. He alw ays find s so me fa ir on e to t a ke up to St. J o hn ' . A lthoug h hi s hea rt Autt e rs all abo ut a nd a round tow n. it return s quite ofte n to ::-- Furry Hill. Not bei ng o f th e fai r ex o ur selves. we cannot judge wh at effect hi s m !o di ous 1·oice wou ld have und e r f avo rab le circumsta nces. Up <~t Coll ege. s<t id 1 ·oice is put to tw o pr in cip al usc . Firstl y. it s ow ne r is not a bad debate a nd o rato r by a ny mea ns. as he ha s been in t he Inte r ocie ty Debate a nd hopes to win o m o rat orica l co nt est for his c hao! be fo re long. econdl y, he kee ps t he rec ruit s o f hi squad in te rror (?) at dri ll. as his ful l vo ice can no t but impress t he g reenl1orn s. But we know 1 ·e1·y well th a t hi s ba rk is of ten worse th a n hi s bite. "Deut ch." as he is o metim es known downt o wn , has played tackle a nd g ua rd on th e \ ' a rsity El e1 ·en durin g th e last three yea r s. l'fer e hi o ne hun d red and eig hty-f11·e avn irdu poise ca me in 1·ery hand y. H e has no t dec ided on his future co ur se as yet, but we all wi sh him g ood lu ck wh e re1·er he may stray. 3fu i!lrtuoriam CADET JOHN SOMERVILLE Class 1917 Born, O ctober 25, 1897. Died, February 3, 1916. In the death of Cadet John Somerville, the Class of 1917 of St. John's College has had its bright and sunny career marred by an untimely shadow of sorrow. Gloom has taken the place of him whose voice was ever merry. His soldierly qualities, his ability as a studen t , his winsome manner and ever jocular mood has endeared him to us as a class, to the student body, and to the Faculty. We all deeply regret the decease of one whom but to know was to love. 105 �Qtlass of 1917 Jlottu 1Junior llliatory--C!lont. Co lor s Consla 11tia V in cimus P urple 'a nd Gree n 1:~11 Heigh Ho! Hi Ho ! Chi cka Go run ck! Gorun ck! Goree. Hull aba loo ! H u ll aba lee ! Rickety Rack! Rickety Reen! S. ]. C., P urple a nd Green-.1 7, ' 17, 17. ( ' h s~ C. C. J. W. R. H . J. l\I. 1-l. L. S. vV. o :n t e:·l'l ] ARMAN ... .... . .. ..... ... .. . .... . ....... .. . President NoBLr.. · · ... . ... . ........ . . .. .... . . .. .. Vice-P resident ~I ADDOX . ............ . . . . .......... .. .. . ... . Secretarv STORM · · · · · · · . · · · · .. ..... .. . . ... ........... Treasure~D. STANFORD, JR ....... .. ...... ... .. .. . .... . . Historian F IHT :N Y .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sergeant-a t-A rms 1Juniur i!iistory ~;~~ >Of, in th e fall of 1912. fhey were m ~t with ope n arm in th e daytime a nd .s la_ts in .. e (0 ~ ~h~ ~ark _o f n1~ h~; They w:,r e type~ .?f th~t Sj)eCJes of th e ~ C 1 ~~s ,:~c~denme, l~n ow ~ a. R odent1a a n d 'V md es H o munca!J. . l h1 s spec1es IS qu1te co m1~1 ~ n in a ll co ll eges, a nd m a ny ~ SC ie nti s ts have expresse d th e op11110n that in s tead .o f beina a ~Ji a separ.ate s pec1es, th e "Ho mun ca li V iri des'' is th e Ia n ·re"' of ~ the ''C1,·es .-\ cacle mi re '' itse lf._ Ass umin g thi s theo ry to be ~ co rr ~c_t, t h e :1pper . ~.l ass~s d eCided th at the "m ~ t a m o rph os i s. of :n~ th e Ho m un ca l! V 11 lcl es to the full-gr o wn C J\' es Acacle m 1 re" ~ ~o ulcl o nly be accompli s h ed by th e frequent app li a n ce o f that W 1n s trum e ~t .ca ll ed th e s lat. T hi s n~ et h .ocl w~s :ec~ mm en~ed 8 ~· by th e P 1es 1 d~ nt of th e G. 0. H. , wh1ch 1s a n m st JtutJO n wh 1ch ha. de,·o tecl 1ts w ho le tim e to th e s tud y o f thi s subj ect a nd w ~1 c.h h as bee.n of 111 es tJm ab le va lu e to th e world at la rge in off e nng a vanety of form s for th e betterment of thi s rath e r help less pec ies. B ut, even as F res hn~ e.n . quite a few m e mb ers of thi s Class rea ll y s howed th e m se lves to be p 1 :om1 111g a thl e te s a nd stud e nts. J a rm a n a n d F ree ney l;oth m ade th e Var s 1ty base bal l tea m. J a rm a n, ~obl e, \ VeavCJ·. Ta rbutto n, l help s and \ Vooclwa rd a ll sh o wed m a rk ed foot ball a bility. \\' ea 1·e r a nd J a rman s tarred OJ~ th e seco nd ba sk et ball team. Som e r ville ra n on the track tea 1~1 at th~ Hopkms meet. Curfma n. Von Schwerdtner and P ri ce excell ed in the1r s tuclJ,;s: Ne~d l ess. to say , th e class h a d no milita ry m en of g reater r a nk than h1 g h pnvate 1n the r ear ra nk. " The fo llow in a o ffi ce rs a uid ecl th e ;~ass through th e fi rst yea r : P resid ent, Langhammer ; vfce-P resicle71t, Guest; 1 rea s ure r. Go rdy: Sec re ta ry, Litt le: and H is to rian , \ r eave r. U nfortun ately . V the fir st five o f th es~ m e mb ers. w1t h sever al o th e rs, h ave left us, robbing t he class o f so m e o f 1ts bes t m emb ers. / ~J. H!l Cl" ' of 1917 mi,.d, " '·a nge t o 106 T h e n ex t yea r sa w th e places of so m e of th e m en w ho left take n by new m e n , a ll of wh om we re taken in th e cia s w ith clue cer em ony. "\] a ri on' ' Cox. ''Reel ·'' Sp ickn a ll , "Hous ton' ' N ob le, ' ' Mose'' Sta nfo rd. " R eels" C rum . " Dic k' ' Burgess. "Jim " B ro wn, ''J oe'' Gleason , " J oe'' McCom as, " .Ru ,;ty" \\ .es t, "J-'loly Cross' ' D umph y , ''Cy' ' H o rine , "H.' ' Sh eppa rd, a nd ·'Ike" Dow e n wer e a ll g u ests o f hon o r a t th e ini t ia ti o n of n ew m en. Thi .· ma ss of new m ate ri a l was divided into t wo pa rts a n d wa s moul ded into true 1917 sty le by th e ge ner ally accep ted m et hod . The fi rst section was given a ma ssage of m olasses a nd feathers. Th e s lat now co ns id er ed by th e Fac ulty as a reli c o f th e Sto n e Age, is r eported to h ave been u se d with mu ch eff·ect. "Ho ly Cross" was th e chi ef pe rform e r a n d furni s h ed som e actin g whi ch wo ul d ha1·e paid him well h ad h e been ab le a nd w illin g to repeat th e pe rformance o n th e s tage. The . eco nd initi a ti o n wa s fea tured by th e Ca ru ·o- lik e s in g in g of Cox . by Ho us ton N oble' ex hibiti on im pe rso nat in g a Yi ct rola from w it hin a trunk, a n d by th e va rio us va ud ev ill e t unt s acted by " Ru s ty" VVe st. To the C la s n ow fe ll t h e duty of trai nin g th e Fres hm en, a nd t h ey d id a ll that th e Faculty would all ow, which was n o t mu ch . Ja rm a n. ,,· ho was elec t ed P res id e nt of th e Cla ss, n ow became th e a uth ority to which the littl e ones went for o rder s. He wa s as is tecl by P ri ce as V ice-P r esid ent. :-Jacldox as Hi storian and Freeny as Sergeant-at-A rm s. ~ o b l e and Bowe n ob t a in ed foo tball m onogram s in th eir Soph om o re yea r. T hi s yea r J a rman , Crum a nd Woodwa rd we re added to th o e in th e C la ss who had received monograms. Dunphy a nd Weaver did substitute duty. Th e basket ball team , including J a rman, Dunphy and Weaver, with "Dick" :\Iill er , was on e of the m a in s tays on th e R eser ves. Th e Two Nob les ra n alt e rn ate ly o n th e fourth p lace in th e mil e relay. Go lds borou g h a nd Fe ll s tarred o n the tenni · tea m. B row n was added to th e li s t of ' 17 m o nogra m m en in ba seba ll a nd Burgess a nd J. N ob le we re s ub titut es. In s h ort . ten m en in th e C lass have been awa rd ed on e or m ore lette r s, a nd th e Class m ay 11·ell fee l prou d of th e m. During las t yea r. th e Class m ade a n excep ti onal s how in g in sc ho la st ic work. Cox led the held. with a rema rka ble ave rage, with Von Sch11·e rcltne r, Curfm a n a nd P ri ce close behind. Cox's s how in g was so goo d th a t the C la s elected him Ed ito r-in- C hi ef of th e RAT-T AT fo r thi s yea'r . O thers in th e clas · holding im po rta nt offi ces are Freeny, Manager of Football for next year; C urfman. Assis ta nt :vfanage r of Ba sk et Ball : \ Veaver , Ass is ta nt Manager of Baseball. a nd :\1acldox, Secr eta ry of th e A thl eti c Assoc ia ti on a nd V ice-P res ide nt of th e P hilomath ea n Literary Societ y. The C lass h as sh o wn milita ry ability of a ra re ord e r. J a rm a n a nd Freeny hold cl own the First Sergeancies. Somervill e was Battali on Q ua rte rmaster- Sergeant up to the tim e of hi s lamented death . O ther hi ghrankin g m en are P ri ce. P rin cipa l M u s icia n in th e Ba nd , and Sta nfo r d and Curfm a n, P ri vates in th e F ront Rank. Ge nera l op ini on say s that Sta nford w ill be :\Jaj o r n ex t yea r, if no ne o f hi s C lass com e back a nd n o m an in th e C lass of 1918 w ill tak e it. ] n th e orat ori ca l lin e. th e class i r ep resented by Jo hn ~ob l e a nd Dodge \Y oo clward. The form e r repr ese nted th e Co ll ege a t \ Veste rn '\1a ry la nd t w o vea rs ago in th e Int ercoll egiate co nt es t , whi le th e latter is on thi . yea r' s deba tin g t eam . Sa in t J o hn 's ca n boast of o ne t hin g n o t foun d in m a ny small co llegesa produ c t of th e ' 17 class-on e pure a b olutel y unhy ph en a ted Ge rm a n. T hi s 107 �]untnr lfltatnry--C!rnnt. fo reig ner. wh il e ad mi ttin g that he likes Am eri ca a li tt le, say s h e w ill be amon:::,; th o e present in the Ger man a rm y in fiv e or s ix yea rs. H is name i Vo n Schw erdtn er. No danger of hi s being mistaken fo r an E ng li hman, is t here? Th e a rt i t of th e Cla s is H o uston Ko bl e, a nd th e la t tw o RAT-TATS ha\' C o wed much of th eir good appea ran ces to hi s ca rtoo n , ma ny of whi ch ha ve been comp lim ented o n al l ide s. T hey a lm os t m a ke on e smil e. " . H.' ' hi bernates nex t to "D ick" B urge s, and th e tw o of th em a rc the best w e ha\'e in the li ne of com ed ian s. ''S nooks" ass is ts in th e r ole of a practical joker, s ucceed in g '' Pansy" Da ,·is in thi ca pacity . " R usty " \ Ve t, las t yea r, was, perh aps, th e chi ef of th em all in the j kc lin e, but he left thi s departm ent of o ur ed uca tion in good hand s. The m us ica l m emb ers of th e Clas a re th e t wo ~ob l es . Crum , Harriso n. Vald ez, Price a nd Spicknall. Often ne hea rs eme rg in g fro m th eir roo ms m elod io us ( ?) . o und s fa hi g h o rd er. "Snookum s" is th e chief offender, as h e pra ctices no t only hi s vo ice. bu t a lso th e v io lin, co rn et and alto. \ Ve a r thank ful h e doe not o wn a Aute or a mou tho rga n. T he Y. M. C. A. i und er t he leade rship o f th e R eve rend 1\f r. Sp ickna ll. '17. as. isted by D eacon Ira IJ. Ta lto n, Trea surer. S u ffi ce it to say, it is in a thriv in g conditi on. D ut now , I co me t the o-reate t o f th e acco mpli shm ent s of t hi s m o t Yersa til e Cia . - t he a rt of fu . . in g. Jo hn :.H urd ock is the lea der of thi department. I ra Talto n, John Fe ll, " Do b" • Madd ox a nd J oe McCo mas a re a ll past m aste r . "S nooks," t o. has r ece ntl y fa ll en onto t he cha rm s of th e fai r sex. "B row n" \ Vac hte r used to be kin g of them a ll in th e fuss ing bus in es s. bu t h bequ ea t hed hi s crow n t o " J ohnny" S to rm when h e left. As th e t im e d raws near to go to press, t he Cia s is drawn in t a clouo of sorrow by t he death of o ne of its mos t loved a nd res pect ed me mb er . To hn om en ·ill e. Hi I s is a kee n blow to a ll hi s class ma tes, a nd th ev ·hare \\·ith hi s fa mil y in t heir so rrow ove r hi s a ll t o ho1 li fe . :t T o ass um e the r o le of a pro phet ra th er th an of a n hi sto ri a n , let m e ad vise yo u to I ok out fo r th e Cia s f 19 17. a nd if w e a re not ri g ht up there a mo ng th e leaders , I mi ss my g ues!' . T he pa t ha bee n bri g ht and a ll we ha,·e t do is to li ve u p to our r ep u tati on a nd th e Sun o f o ur F u tur w ill s hin e bright a nd g lo ri ou upo n u a ll. Hr 'I'ORIAJ:\. 108 �S~PN~M~RE C!llass nf 191B :\ln tt o (' olor~ S cicntiadat Virt1tti Blu e and ·w hite ( ' l aN:o; Otfice r·s J. .. . ... ._. . . . ....... . .... . . .. . .. ..... . MADDOX, W. President T uc KER, W. B .... . .. .. . ...... . . . . .... .. . . ... Vi ce-President KNI GHTON , ]. W .. .. .... . ... . . . ........ . ......... . S ec retor:.• l\1A CK , W. E .. .. . ....... . . . ......... . . ........... Treasurer T U RNER. F. G.... . . . . . . . ... . ... . . .. ...... .. S ergeant -at- A r111 s SHEPP ARD, A . M .... .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Historian (!llaaa 18o11 'lB Bourke . C. E ............. . .. . . .. '·Clyde'' .. ... .. .... . . . . . e1·e rn a P a rk . 1Icl. " A loud 11101tth is an echo of au e1Npty brain." B radl ey, D . D . . . . ....... . .... . .. "Doolittl e'' ................ harpt01rn, :'lie!. " A lion 0/1/ 0II g th e ladies is n o dou bt a dangerous thing .'' Cla ude, L. .. . . . . . . .... .. ....... "La rri e" ... . . .............. Ann a poli s. :\ rd. " Th e w it o f clowns som eti111 es asto1tnds 111 e." Coo ke. J. R. ............. ..· ..... "Tickle " . ..... . . ....... . .. . Fro tburg. 1\Jd. " A prelly g oo d sco 1tt I w arraut :.•e." D e \ ' ries, W. S ....... .. . . .. . ... " S lack'' . . ....... . .. . . ...... Syke Yill e, .Mel. ''A n occasional smile, is al~e·ays wo rth w hile : A n endless g rin , is 1 '11bbin' it in ." El zey. F . VI/ .............. . .. . .. " E x i tence" ........... . ... Sharptown. 1\Jd. " J hy, really . I be lie~re it is tim e to smile aga in ." ;V Frazie r. F. W .. . ... . ....... . ... . "l\I idcl ie" .. .. .. . ..... . ..... A n na poli , l\Jcl " Ma.v we eve r be able to serve a fn:end A nd n oble en ough to con ceal it." Fri end, 0 . . .... .. . . . ..... : .. . .. '' Sloth' ' . : ...... . ... . ..... . Friend vi ll e, ~Icl ''O ur fri end, Friend fr o/11 F riendz•ille, /¥ hose chief faull is being too self-assertiz·e ." 110 �Qila.a.a i!\oll '18--C!Iont. Ga rdn er, E. 0 . ..... . ... ... . .... "'Sister ..... . .. ... .. . . ...... . R ockvil le, l\Id. "Wh o at least has lea·r ned by strenuous 'liSe of a pa.il That fill-ing a boat's well w ill not ma.!?e her fast er sail." Hall , Lewell yn . .. .. ......... . .. ··Baboon'' ..... . .. . . . ...... . A nnapoli s, :i\Id. '' T!Vhile all ) IOU boobs are drinking lea. 1 w ill a pensive booll ·worm be." H olm es, T. R. .... . .. . .. . .. . ... . "Nutty'' .... .. .... . . . .. .... Cent reY ill e, l\Id. ''H e has the p1·aise·worthy quality of Appreciating a jolle without a point." . Jones, H. D .......... . .. ....... . ·'Dewey'' .. .. ... . .......... . Baltim ore, l\Jd. "-H e's a devil in his own hom e town." l(nighton, J. W .. ... . .......... . "Bi ll '' . . .. . .......... ... . ... Baltimo re l\Icl. " M any are called but few arise." ' Lo wman , C. E ... ..... .. ..... ... ''Egge r '' .. .. ... ... ... ... . .. A nnapolis, l\Id. "O h, Percy, ntn get the n ul-crack er, we'z;e f ound a. ·nrtt ." Ma ck, 'v\1. E ... . .... . ... .. .... .. "Connie" . ... ....... .. .. ... Thomasvill e Ga. " With 1 ·eal-brozcm eyes a11d sandy hair ' ' Tho ' srnall of statue, he's alioays ' there." l\Iaclcl ox, '0/. J. . . .. .. .. .. . .. .... ''Matty' ' ... ...... ... . . ....... 1\Iadclox . l\Icl. " Eat, drinll and be 111 erry, f or tom orrow we 1110\1 diet ." ::\Iagru cler, R. B .............. . .. ''l\Iac" .. . ............. ~ .... Baltimore Mel. "A wo 111a n is only a W0 /11011 , but a good cigaret/e is a. 'Smoke'." ' :\Iartorell , G .......... . ......... "Mo rtal" .................. San Juan P. R. ·'A ll lad·v -killers a1·e not A merirans ." ' ::\Ia rx, J. N ...... . .. . . ... . . : ... . "Joe'' .......... .. . ... .. .. . . ... Ch icago Ill. ''One Il ia\! live w itho11l bread ' B11.t cer.lainly n ot w ithout ' girls." ::\Iencke, H. L. .. ........... . .... " A ngelina '' . ............. . .. Baltimore l\Icl . " I'll let love lead f or bolder folk and take 111 '\1 life in ease." ' :\Iathan, C. C ....... . ........ . ... ''Chi c" . .. . ..... . . .·. . .' .. . .. . Baltim ore f.Id. "A z •er:~~ q~t.ie t !illle chap and bashful am ong the ladies: ' We thmk he IS so very ,r;ood (?) he'll never go to Hades." :\Telso n, J. 'vV ........ .. . ......... ·'Do c'' ....... . ....... ...... Baltim ore l\Icl. " T o maNe l Iw commg hour I . ' 0 ' erfiow w ith joy and happiness, fill the glasses ." :\To rth am , T. A. ... ..... ... ...... . '·Tully" ... .. ...... ........ . l\IcDan iel, :\ld . ''O ft en has this storv been sa.id. A still tongHe mrokes a un:se hea d." Pea rce, J. l\I. ... · ....... . ....... '· Littl e Jake" ..... .. ... .. . ... l\Ionkton Mel. " ft's m y la st j it, but l'll ta!?e a cha11ce ." ' Sea rs, F. W. · · · · · · · · · · · · · .. · · · · . ............. . ............ A nnapoli s l\Icl . "Nal~t.re has inde ed 111ade strauge things in her da1•s ." ' Sheetz . J. R. . ... ... ..... .. ....... Bob' ' .... . .. .. .. ... . . . .. J ager tow n. l\1cl. :.:r "Co urteous, and militm·:~• fr om tip to toe . And w ith the ladies he s urely 111 akes a go. " Sheppard, i\. l\I.. ........... . . . " Shep' ' ........... ... ....... Stockton, Mel. '' Tra z•elling life is the life for m e. Un til f dec ide tha t l'll111arried be. " mith , R. E . .. ... ... .. .......... "Deut sch" ..... . .. .· .. Ea rl eigh H eights, l\Id . "P eaceful ab ove all eaTthly dignities,· A calm and sererie conscieu ce." 112 C!Ila!i.a i!\oll '18--<font. Tucker W. B .. . .. . ... . ....... .. "Tuck" .. .. . .......... ·.· . . Cent rev i!!e, ::\lei. ;"T·is well there are at least some well disp osed men m. the wo rl~. Turn er, F. G .... ... . .... . .. . ·.... ''Bull_" .. : .. . .. . . . .. . : . .. .. Cambndge, l\Icl. (The boy w1th the prrrsk111 and cellul mds .) " H e m.akes his w ay by for ce and v tm, A nd is alw ays dei ermined to 7l'in." Walbeck, J. i\I.. ... . ... .... . .. .. "Becky" ...... . . .. . ... . ... Forest Hi ll , l\Id . " Girls, g-i rls eve rJ'~e •here, . And Beck1•'s head do es lower smk ; Girls, girls eve r:~nvher e . _ , And of the gwls only do es he thmk. \ ,Yell s, G. E .................... . '· Dai sie" .. .. ............... Keyser, 'vV. Va. " For his ~. •ife he'd give his life, And- and well the book business also." W hite, P . H ... . ... . ............. "Harrison. , ............ . . . .. Bal,~imore . l\Id. " Sprinkle 111 e ·with kisses, if }1 ~e·a11t rn y love to gro~c1 . 0'1-t Wigton , Wm ., Jr . . ........ '... . .. "Maj or' ' .. . . : . ........ ..... Pocomoke, l\ld. " H e spreads the 'bull' about a 11 le. ·U But is alw aw read11 w-ith his W01·lderfnl Sl'n ile." \1\T il son, T . N .... . . . . . .... . ·...... :.Buster" . .... . .. . ...... .. ,; .. ... Hebron , l\ [cl . " Please, tell me-an·~ 1 gomg or co mmg ? . 'vVin slow ... : ... . .. ... .. . . .. .... "Windy" .......... . ..... .. . Balttmore, l\Icl. " To hi111 in v ain the env ious seasons Who 1 .de bears eternal snnun er in his so 11l." "1 PRE-l\IEDICALS Billingslea, C. L. . . .............. " Beane" . ............. . .. Westmin ster, l\Id . "A ltho11gh the early bird ca tches the ;:'onu, H e always has fi1·st chance at the trap . Broaclrup, E . ............ . ... .. : "~oc~or" ............... . . Cumberland. :\Icl. "He that hath no ·m.u.stc m h'/.'11'/.self, Is certainlv not 1noved by the conco rd of s<e,ee t sounds ." • Costas, Edwardo ... . . ·.. ........ . "Flaco'' .. · · .. ·. · · · · · · · · ·····.Ponce, P. 1". "Look in ·111'\1 f ace· '11'/.V nam e i t m ight have been: ' . I a.m also . called, ' No-more,' 'T oo la t e, ' 'F arewe ll' ." . • _ Holden, F . A . ....... . . ..... . ... "Fi ckle" ..... ..... . . . . ... Queenstown , ':\Icl. "Woes mav ro·m e and woes ·nw:~' go, B nt his la.~t.gh goes on f orever." :\[atthews, S. '# ...... . ...... . . .. '·Chri sty" ..... . .... . ... Rocky 'M ount, N . C. " For thv sake, Tobacco , I W o·u ld do anything but die, And but seek to exle1'1 d 11111daw . Long enongh to s-ing th:~; pra.ise. " . Q uevedo R. G .... .... .. .... .. .. "Quo' ' ................ . ..... Cajuas, P. R. ' . I. " A la:ngh is 7C'orth a. hundred groans 1n a.ny ma1~"e t" . . Smith , F. B .... . . . . . .. ... . . .. ... " Fred" . ..... ... ...... .. . \ l\festm111 ster, l\Id. "A n artist no doubt a.nd a. musician loa, fn fact there are a.' fe w things that F1·eddie can't do ." 'vVatson, J. W ... . ... . .. . . ....... '· Puss" .. .... . . .. . . .... .. . . Frostburg. l\Id . " Who said, Yon Cassi 11 s had a. lean and h.11ngry1 loa!?? Verily i1e lied." 113 �~oplfnntnrr ~npqnmnrr QHa£Hl 1llt111nry HE a rri val of the present Sophomore Class at St. J ohn:s College in the earl y fall of 1914 marks the g reatest epoch in the hi story of our journey so far . We arrived from all ove r thi s Easte rn section as bees fl ying f or a new home, and soon were all comfortabl y hi ved as one f a mil y. O ur inmo st feelings, you m ay be sure, were far from jubilant, but soon there was a Royal R ecepti on held in P inkn ey Hall for us, which mad e us f,eel that we we re now a part of the College to which we had co me, but with st rong emphasi that we were to be a ver y subservient part of it. A nother di stincti on of which we boast is that our Class was th e first Freshma n Class in thi s in stituti on fo r yea rs, whi ch has not had a very close acquaintance with th e ··Royal Pe rsuade r," but finding from all uiticisms we conducted ourseh·es very well indeed. In t racing the chronology of · events we certain ly mu st not fo rget to menti on our representati on on the ath letic fie ld ; for l\Iaddox. W. ]. , Holm es, Nathan and Sheppard g.ave the team th eir support. and held places on the second team . Turner, F. G., sta rred on first team as fullback. winnin g a p lace on A ll-Maryland team by virtue of shee r quality. Tucker showed hi s superi ority on the diamond and was soon in th e mid st of the fi r st nine. Vlil son, V\' igton a nd Mack made the second team, and look like good mate ri al for next season. Tn academic work we hold our place in the front ra nks, and a good numb er of ou r Cia s a re doing excell ent work. L. Hall seems to be always in the lead and make the highest ave rage in College. In the ea rly fall o f 1915 we again returned to our dear A lma l\fater w ith but Ye ry few of our number mi ssing a nd were ve'ry glad again to renew our old relati onships. Th e obj ects which in te rested \1 S most, howeve1·, were the diffe rent specim en o f new fe ll ows whi ch met our eyes. The re were eve ry va ri ety, from the extreme un sophi sticated country fell ow, to the world ly wi se city chap; tht: fo rme r walked a bout gazi ng at all things with deep wonder and astonishment, whil e th e la tter strutted about as if he were all in all. Ve ry, ve ry soon we formed a cl oser acquaintance with the '·fre shi es,'' a nd as a resu lt every one notes a deci,d ed change in their conduct a nd bearing. Vve we re ve ry glad to ship some new men on our Sophomo re ship, so with due ce remony Cook, Q uevedo, Matth e'ws, Mencke, Holde n. Smith , F., B road rup. \ Vhi te, Magruder, Winslow, De .Y ri es, J ones, Watson, Costas. Ma rx, Lowman a nd B rad ley we re taken in our Class. So me of the membe rs of ou1· Class stil l continu e to di stinguish them selves in athl etics. Turn e r again was a Va1·sity ma n. while Maddox, W. ]. , Magrud e r. Cook and Holden made some o f the Varsity trips. Cook espec ia lly. looks good for next yea r, a nd he and Turner are showing up ve ry wel l in ba ket ball. Academi c wo rk is comi ng on again very well , indeed, and we hope to keel up our reputation in thi s bran ch of coll ege lif e a long as we co ntinu e here. 114 (!llu.a.a ]l{tstory--(!lont. Every man has great hopes and aspirations for hi s clea r A lma Mate r. a nd '~e all are striving to do everything in our power to uph old he r goo~ name,_ to ~vm o-reater and g reater honors for her, so tha t she may stand f~rth 111 the limelight ~s a shining sai nt , to whom we shall alw~ys turn our eyes m reverence and · as an in stituti on of enlig htenment, truth and n ght. HI ' TORIA •. i!tat-wat inarb fnr 1917 J . vVJL soN K N JGHTo:-< Assistan t Editor-in-Chief J. R OBE RT SHEETZ Business Manager Assistan t B nsiness !VI anager Editor-in-Chief vVARDEN E. A d~ •e rtising H. MA cK L EROY M J ·:NC J <E Asst. Advertising Ma na ge r Manager ' y\'JLL IAM J. MADDOX J osE PH N . l\I ARX Art Editor P Au L H. vVHnJ·: A thletic Editors T. REED HoLME !? J. R uss ELL CooK A lnm ni Editors Ri cHARD P . vV 1Nsww Ca lendar Editors E. 01'1 S GARDNER FR ;\ NK \ A . ELzEY / Camp us E ditors J oHN WA T SOK H . DEwEY J oNEs T. ALFRED NORT H AM J. MERDiTH PEARCE Hwnwrous Editors Misce lla neo us E dit ors }AMES V\'. NELSO:-< •: CLAlJJ) J } AMEs M. vVALBEcK DREXEL D. BRAOLEY Literary E dit ors So cial Editors Az EL M. SHEPPARD T. NoRwooD 'vV.JLSON VV JLLJ AM y\I JGTO N R oB ERT SON J\lf AGR oER vVJLLIAM DE VR 1Es T01vn E dit ors R. E. SM ITH C LY DE E. B ouRKJ·: T. VV. FRAZ I ER 115 s. �Extrarts frnm a 1J1rrsqtnau's itary Sept. Li-Got here 0. K., but so rry to leave home. Gee, it is a lonely old p lace. Don 't think I'll like it much. 17- Coach Wi lson urges that I go out f o r football. I go , but I guess it it is a littl e out of my lin e. I'm going to sti ck, though. Oct. .3- 1 get hurt in a sc rimmage . O h, my a nkl e pai ns. 20- 1 ma ke P. l\I. I. t ri p. Some footbal l playe r . I'm a surpri se to myself even. 2:Z- Back a t St. J ohn 's, a poorer a nd wi se r lad. NO\' . 1~--D r. Fell refu ses to give me my ow n money. He ays it i again st the Facu lty ruling. 29-T meet a queen down town, who fa ll s for me. Some ladies· man. Dec. IS- Hi story test come off,-p retty stiff. Dad says ·'f ool ca n ask [Uestion tha t wi se men can 't answeT.. , About so, too. 24- Back with th e old fo lks. Proud of me. Ja n. 10 - I shin e in "Doc 's" cl ass . Greasing h im up. 23- F irst tim e in front rank? 27- 1 bet I will be a Sophomore Co rporal nex t yea r. M ilita ry's a cin ch. Feb. 4-Up before Committee on student stand ing. O h, well , it 's not my fau lt. One can't p lease eve rybody. 8- Hi story teache r starts a course in geograph ical surveying and map wo rk . A pike, of course. 12- 1 star in " Duckey's" cl ass . 20-I go out for baseball. H e re's where 1'11 shin e. I'm the coach's right hand man. 28- Invited out to tea. [ got something on all of 'em in the lady lin e. Heap big fellow . l\ Jarch 8-Some g-uy out for second ba se. but J don't mind him . Everybody thinks I'll make it. 10-A nother ca ll be fore Com mittee on Stud ent Standing. M ust give up ba seball , beca use my lesso ns inte rfere with it. 31- Got a long dista nce from Baltimore. Girl wants to see me. April 1- Faculty refu se' to g ra nt me a pa s, but I'm going. 7- ( l.lS A. M. )-Back from Baltim ore. Some swe ll tim e. Gee. that blond e was some chi cken ! 8- Before Fa cultv for French leave. Given two weeks' vacati on . Th ey' re pretty good scouts. a fter al l. Here th e poo r rat's diary abruptl y end s, du e. we suppose, to gay lif e wh il e on his vacation. 116 �Qllann of 1919 ('o l or1'i ) l oU u Spea.k w hen spo!?en to; co111 e w hen called Red and G n:e n Class Otfit·t.. r ·:-o G1 ·:oncr-: K. llh:TZcER .......... . ....... . ...... . President NonMAK H. SMITH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . ..... Vice-President J. Oc u : \i'/ ARF18LD . . . . . . • . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Secre tary RoBV.HT S. GLADDEN . . . . . . . .. .. . . . . . . • . . . . . . . . Treasurer J. PuRNI-:CL DENNIS ... .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . Historian ALTON :-J:. Br. N N I, 'l'T . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . Sergea nt-at-Ar111 s 1!\oll illall Ba il , F. G ................. "Reds" .............. .. ..-\ nnapoli , :-Id. Bier, R. A. .. ..... . ... .. .. · " Schlil::: ' . ..... . .... . ... denton. :-I d. .. Cole, R. D ........ . ........ "nicb" . ..... .. ... F reepo rt. L. I., N.Y. Claude, vV. T .......... . . .. " Tell" .. .. . . . . . ....... A nnapoli . l\[cl. Cunningham , R ....... . . . . . ''Fats" . . ............... . \ quasco, :-Id . Doty, E ...... .. ........... "Sis" ..... .. .. . .. ..... . .. R e vell , l\ l d. Earecl,son , 'vV. 0 .... . ...... " Jjric" ...... . ...... . .. Baltim ore. :-I d. Harris. W . N ....... .. .... . "Bill" ................. Sykesvi ll e, l\lcl . Hopk in s, G. H ......... . ... "Lad.•·" .......... .... . A nn apoli , :-Icl. Ho lmes, C. C. .... .... .... . "Mon!?" . . . .... . ...... . . 1\Ionkton, :-Icl. Howes. J. l\I.. . . .. . ........ " Johnny" .. . . . ...... David on ville, l\Icl . Jeff ries, G. N .. . ....... . .. " Bru.t'lls" .. . .... .. .. \iVa shin gton. D. C. Law on, W. L...... . . . . . "Doc" ................ . Loga n. W . Va. L e,·y, R. R ........ . ....... ·'I e<c•" ... . .. . ..... . .... Baltim ore, l\Id . Lowe, . J. ...... . ......... " Sa IlL" . . . . . • . . . . ;\Iardela Sp rings, 1\Id. :-Ienn is, J. S ... . .. . ........ "Hi:::" ............... Connell vi ll e, Pa. :-rartin W. N .. ........ .. . . "Mush" ....... . ....... Snow }- i ll , 1\Id. T Moore, G. C. . . ....... . .. . . ·' Beautiful" . .. . ......... . . Krepo , l\1d . Polk, E. B . . .. . ...... . . . ... ''Po lwy" .. . ........ P rincess A nne, :'lid. Schu ele, A. G . . . ........... "D utch" . ...... . .... . .. Baltim ore, ::\Icl. Sea r . G ...... . .... .. ...... "Cns" .. ... ......... .. A nnapoli s, l\Id. Sm ith. J. W ... .. . ..... .. .. "S111oh J oe" .. ... . . . 'vVestmin ter, l\ [d. mith. N. H ........... . .. .. "Poll· " ... . . . ........... Hebron , l\Id. y Trayer, K. l\I. . ...... .. .... " Revere11d" . ...... . ..... l\It. A iry, 1\J d. Turner, l\I. C . .... ... .... .. " Pu.g" ........ . ....... . Baltimore, :-rd . Wareheim , S. l-:1 . . ...... . . .. ·'Cntey' . .. . . . . . . . . .. ... Baltim ore, Mel . W in cheste r, P .. .. ......... " P1'et" . .. .......... ... A nnapoli s, :-1 d. 'VIfohlgem uth, G. F .......... " Boog-y" ... . .......... An napolis, l\Icl. Wood, J. K ... .. ... . ..... . . " Jake" ..... . . . ... . .... A nnapoli s, 1\Icl. \ !\food, J. W ... . .......... . " Woody" ....... . .. .... \nnapo li s. :-J d. 119 0 • �ll1r.rnlpmm (fihtnn in st rument s d t:v i eel for the p leas ure a nd• enj oyment of Freshmen were o ut of \·ogue but- - well . one evening when the Sophomo re gathe red a ll the Fre shm en in a room and made us face the wall, we d id not fe I as co m fo rtable as we wo ul d ha \·e in a S unday Schoo l. Howe \·e r, we accepted their ad vice and have profited much hy it. In th e meantim e th e class was o rgani zed. Whi le th e men elected to the va riou s offices have bee n in office onl y a sho rt t im e. they have a lready pro\·ec\ their abd1t y. and we a re sure that they could not be bettered . T he Chri stmas holid ay were now app roaching, driving a ll thought s of st udy f ron: o ur head . yve counted th e clay s impatientl y before the holid ays began. a nd 1t was w1th a ll ght hea rt that we fi na ll y left Co ll ege on the twe nty-second o f Decembe r for our hom es . \ Ve ca me back' a fte r the holidavs reluctant of course to leave h m e, but glad to see our classmates again , a nd ;-eady fo r 'ha rd worl~ p repa rato ry to the m id-year e::>ta min ation . In a ll Coll ege acti viti es the Freshman Class has taken its pa rt. In academ ic wo rk it has clone especia ll y well. A large percentage of the Class has been on the hono r ro ll e \·e ry month. In athl eti c th e Class ha s a l. o been well r presented. \~' hil e no one made the Va rsity football team, Sm ith , l\letzger, Turner and others cl 1 excell ent wo rk on the second team. d So wh ile we have been students at St. John' s for o nl y a short time, the Co ll ege already mea ns mu ch to u s, and we are sure it will continue to urow in our affection the longe r we a re associated with it. "' 1f1rrHqman (!tlaHH ~iHfory ctJ 1F r , 5 ~ m n n ~tatnry--cnnnt. F yo u had been watchin a on the sixtee nth of Septe n~be r. yo u \\' oul cl have seen ma n v a wk warcl-look i ng incl i vid ua ls co ming u p the path that lead-, to t. J ohn 's Coll ege. A econcl rr ]ance wou ld not have been necessa ry to in fo rm yo u that the e were th e Fre shmen. ome came hes itatin~ l y a nd with long faces, t ill thinking of home. Othe r _ came in tow of parents, enclentl y trustina to them for hel p throug hout th e fir t d ifficult ies of college li fe. ~o m e f ~w ca m ~ up th e path j a until y sw in gmg. a suit case 1n each ha nd, smiling in their co nfidence of being ab le to take ca re of them seh ·es. B ut. howeve r we came, we a ll felt sec ret ly elated at the prospect of becom lllg a student at St. John 's Co ll ege. H r s'J'ORJAN. The fi rst few clays were bu sy o nes for us. A fter thorough ly inspect in a eve ry noo k and c ran ny o f the Co ll ege. we started clown town, on ly to find, afte r hours of aimless wanderin a, that we had been wa lki n rr in "' a circl e. • B ut afte r thi s ca me o ur clark cl ay . \ Ve moped in o ur roo ms o r loitered abo ut the build in g with lo ng faces. G rad ua ll y, howeve r . as we became acquaint ed, the gloom bega n to depa rt from o ur faces a nd we took a new int e r~st i_n th in gs. In fa ct, we took uch a n act1ve In terest in things (that did not co nce rn us) that it was deemed necessa ry by the Facu lty and by th e Sophomore Cla s to gwe us a li tt le friendly adv ice a to the prope r condu ct of Fre hmen. Th e Faculty a SLll-ed us that th e slat and o ther 120 • nESHMAI-l yc_-r. -GEE! LOOK AI IN& HAY THI\T BIG COW WITH HOR.NS yvlTH HE~<!. 121 TAIL\\ IN \-\c~ MOUIH 1 EAT- �, . . :···········································.... ............................................... i ¥ G. Vv. Ba rne 1'11 be a Clean Sleeve all my li fe, Tho' I drill a s ha rd as 1 ca n, A nd I'll have to tell my darling wif e W . T. Claude ]. M. Dawes D . Ha ll B. S. Heidelbach H. Lawren ce S. J. Lowe R. B. l\Iagrucler J. M . Pearce L. C. Sleight R . A. To rovsky R. H. Toro vsky VI/. P. \i\Ti nchester N . \Nil son That I wasn't a military man. . . . . . . . . . . . . i i i ~ ! :..............................................·· ·............................................... : : I kn ow she'll tease me nearly to death A nd call me a n aw kwa rd boob. O h! my, it quite take away my breath! She'll ca ll me a big-footed rube . A nd then I'll have to tell my boy That is the hardest of allGee ! they'll make a lot of noise, They'11 laugh, and sco rn and bawl. '·Sho rty" :\IcNeil is a pretty good scout, A nd he could help me a bit, W ith maj or 's chev ron s I'd walk about. B ut would he do it? N it. So I am doomed, th en, to di sgrace, T ho' I dri ll a s hard a s I can. A nd I'll have to possess the face to say : " I 'm not a military man." 122 123 �i£irutrnant (!l~aunrry §t. <n. ~rNrill E I GHTH CA VALR Y, U . S . A. I EUT ENAN T M cNE ILL was born in W est V irgini a a nd co mp leted in thi s S ta te hi s ea rly education. H e g radu a ted from the La w D epa rtm ent of W est V irgini a U ni ve rsity in 1906, at th e same time wa a n H ono r G radua te f ro m th e ~ Iilit a ry D epa rtm ent. H e e nte red th e U nited States N a val cademy in 1907, bu t resigned th e fo ll ow ing yea r to ente r the A rm y, a nd was a ppointed Li eutenant o f Candry Septembe r 25, 1908, a nd ass ign ed to the Fi f teenth Cavalry. H e join ed hi s regim ent a nd e rved with it until Octobe r Li, 1913, upon whi ch date he repo1 ·ted fo r duty at St. J ohn 's Co ll ege as Comma nd a nt of Cadets. H e was p romoted to First L ieutena nt of Cavalry A ugust 19, 19 l:i . U nd e r Li eutenant liicNe ill , St. J ohn 's Coll ege has come to th e f ront ra nk of mili ta ry colleges in th e U n ited States. 'vVe may we ll be proud o f th e Ia t r ep ort g i,·en us by Cap tain Sc hind el, who in spected the Batta li on. As a resu lt o f the in specti on of 19Li , S t. J ohn 's was cl assified by th e Wa r Depa rtment as one o f the te n d ist ingui shed milita ry co ll eges in th e U n ited States. ) l i\ CIHNF; G U N C0)£P i\NY 124 (C LO S.E OR IH~ It ) �u ·a ge rs t owu . ~ld. S p o n s o r Ba t ta li o n ) 1.\ ,l O H G. T . )L\ C K E .'II Z I E �c.· ,.. 128 �?.~ ~~ ~~ -,~ ?.~ ?~ -,- .' ~ ;""· 3 11,; ,; :I~ LI Z . \UJ' TH ~ C: OT 'I' 1-1 .\IHCI: ,J . iS !o: LII Y I 1·o r .1·, ' I d . .An nap tdi s, 1\ l d. ~ pon s or ( 'nlllJlall ,\ ' . \ "· ' ~(~ i.~ ~~ ~- · ' ~.- ·· ' ~: ~- :-- ~-!.,, ~ ~~ ... . ~' 7,;. ~ ~i ··, ..... ~·; -.::.. i,Z ~~ ~) -~ ~ ~ <, .•' ' . ¥- _·.~ ¥ H a l'l'r ,J. Se l by ::,_- Ca p ta i n ' ,Ta m es '1.' . Dul•c F ir st Li e u tena n t . SE H GEANTS ( ·. ( ' . ,l a r·mall \\' . 'F. St r·om e ye r· <i. D. 'l' h o mp,.;o n 1•:. 0. \ '0 11 S chwc nHn c r '1 E . B o nr·k e '. Ja co b 1\'1 . P e a •·cc Seco n d Lieute na n t COR P ORA L S J. H. S h eetz Cl eo r ·~ e na v id ,.;o n M a.l'i o 11 Cox ,J . '1' . S p ic knall 130 ~ >< ;.-. .... ~ ~ 0 Q �132 �~~ ~I~ ~~ -:,:; 1 1'- ~~ ~ * ~~ ~- ' ~'- ~~ -·~ ~ ~- 1 1-o .\IISS .\1 .\ l ' ]{E .K l' JII I'P :S :Spon ~ ur ~~ ~ JH H ,\.\ 1 J'. I' L l".\1.\l li; H .\l itdl c ll \"i l lc. ' 1!1 . ] 'ort~m o ut ll . lla IH I Y :l. ~-~ 1/' Li e u te nant Jiand i.~ ~: .. • ~'~ "':,;<I' -:. ,., ~- '·~' 1, ' r i!~ ::; 1"} ~ "{ ,. ';< ~; ;~ ,, ~ ~i 1'- ~~ ~ ~ ,; . ;.. ~~ ~~ ~~ 1>, ~~ :;; ~ -~ .; ~: ..~ H·. F. P ltm1m e •· Second Li e ute n a nt \ V. H. P •·i ce Chi e f Mu sicia n :;, • ~; '•J " ~- :~ ~~ ~i ~ ~- ~- -~ ~ ~j -~ ~- ~ SE RG E ANT S \\'. H. P •·i ce, P rin cipa l :vru ·i cia n H . H . Bowm·s R . ,V , C nun W . H. Hal'l'isO n H. J . .<\ n d i'CW .. COR P OR AL S \\' m . \\' ig ton, Jt·. J . W . ]{n ighton ~ ~ '~j ~ ~ ~:¥;:~· :-~:_,;~-:-:,~-:-~ -:-x.:;.';;!:-:-:~-:-~#-:-,<-:-~-:-~,~-: -,~ :%: .:~:*:~-:-.1{- : ~ ~-: -x.- : -){:-:*:-,<-:-~t:: :-~- :-~-: -,t-::-~:: :~:~:-~: ~ 134 .c ~ :Q ~ ~ ~ �~tatf ®ffirrr.a C omm a ndan t of Ln:un : J'\ANT C II AL:NCEY S. (' ad l' t :o~ ~I c N£rLT• .. . .. 15th ca ,·alry, U.S. A. Conuni ssi o n ed Stn f1' CADET Fm T L JF.U'I' J ·:NAN 'I' C. L . HAR'l'SOC J.; . . . . . . . . . . Adju ta11t CADCr FIR T L ll.:U'n :NAN T T. W . LI CON . .. . .. . . Q uarter111 as!cr -~un-(' cnnmi N l'lionl'cl CADET D. ~ tan · C. DowN s .. . . . ... . . . . . . . . . . . . .... . Sergeant CADET J oHN SoMERV JLLIO: . . . . . . • . . . . ... • . .... Si tpply CADET A. B. CADET J. JA CQUE . . . . ... ... .. . ... . . . . . . . ... Mafor Sergeant Color S erg eant I. H 1 ........ ... .. . . . ........ .. .. Co lor Sergeant ;:rsE "V L EA JtE U F Oit 136 AC' I' IO~" �ornmpauy H(@urrr'• SPOi'SOJl-· · ~ I 1 ss J c u l·:' · C rabtow n. l\J d. STAi' Fn lm .. . . . . . .... . . . . ... .. . ~ .. . .. . ... . ..... . Capta in of ~ lili ta ry Tactics F1 L ... . . . . . . : . . . . . .... . . .. .. . ... . ... F irst L ie u te nant of Extended Order :LDs CL' l{F~ I Ai' . .... . . ...... .. .. . . . . . . . .... .. Secon d L ie u te nant of Skirmi sh Li ne DARL I·: Y... . ..... . . . .. .. .. .. .. . ......... . . . .. . ... F ir st Se rgeant of R e ve ill e ~ I;; Lsor..; . ... . ....... . ......... . . . .. . ... . .. . . . . . Secon d Se rgean t of R e ,·e ill e H :\!.1. .. . .. ·.. . ... . . . . . .. .. . . ... . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .. T hird Se r()'ea nt of \ Vate r S nEl'I' AIW . . ...... . ....... . .. . . . . . . . . . . ... F irst Co rpo ra l of a un d e rs Range B RAS ILI·: ,If{ S . . . .. . ... .. .. . . ... . .. . . ..... .. ...... Second Co rpo ra l of Re treat J1: w1·: u .. . . . .. ........ ..... . . . . . . . ... ..... . .. Th ird Co r po ra l of Dre s Parade · CAHn N I· I .. . . . .. . . . . . .. . . ....... . ... . . . ... . ...... Four th Corpo ra l of Colo rs :{ PR l VX I'ES Coo 1 . . .. . . . . ... . . . . . .. . . .... . . .. ..... .. . . ..... H ig h P ri vate of In spect ion .:: FRIJ·: ' D. ... ....... .. ... . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . ..... . . . ...... H ig h P ri yate of Dril l 'J'JV\ YI·: R.... . . .. . . .. ...... . ... . .. . ..... . ..... . .... H ig h P ri 1·a te of Chapla in H OLD I·:l\ ...... . . . . . .. . .. . . . .. . ... . ... . .... . . .. H ig h P ri vat e of Stack . \r m s ~ I A'L"f'lmw • .. ... . ..... . ..... . ... . . ........ . . . . H ig h P ri vate of J'a racle R est \i\' AL m:c K . .. ..... . .... . ... . . . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . .. 1-li ah P ri vate of Tin S o ldi e rs \ VATSOK'.. . . . .. . . ...... . . . .. .... . . . . . . .. . .. . ... High P ri Yate of G ray h irt \ V 1 s .. . . . .......... . ... . .... . ......... . ... . .... Hi g h P ri vate of Leggin s ;;u FRAZII·:R ...... . .. . . .. .. ... . . . .. . .. . .. . . .. .. .... . . . ·1-1 ig h P ri vate of Ilayo net ] ROADR L' p . . . . . . . ... . ... . ... . .. .. .. . . ..•. . .. . . . H ig h P rivate of C hurch Call P 1AHCI' ..... . ...... . ... . . . ... . . . .. . ... . ... . .... Hi a h P ri vate of Port .-\rm : · : :\'oHT IJA:II .. .. . . ...... . . . . . . . ... . . . . ..... . . .. ...... . H igh Private of ._puc! )J AT HAr..; . . . ..... . .•. ... . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. .. .... . ... H ig h P ri vate of Atte nti on D 1 V RII,S . .. . .. ..... .. . . . .. . .. . ... . .. . ... .... . Hi g h P ri va te of G ui de R ig h t ·: STAFF STOR:II. ............. .... . .. . . .. . . . F ir t L ie u te na nt \cl ju ta nt o f Dou ble T ime TALTOK . ... . . .. .. ..... . . . ... . . .... .. F irst L ieute na n t Q u a rte rmaste r of :H ike ~ r Iu s . . . ....... .. .. .. . . . . ... . .. . .. . F ir t Li eu tenan t o f O rd na n ce of Camp \ \'A TI·: H. . .. ... .. .. .. . . ... .. .. ... . ....... .. S u pply Se rgea nt of l\Iachin e G un \ Vn .sor-; ..... . . .. .. . ...... . .. . . ... .. . . .. Q u a rte rm a te r e rgeant o f Cad e nce 139 �1\ 1Rafa ~nltlnqu y 1' ve been he re just three days, I feel like go ing home, I just can 't lea rn these waysl\Iy fa ul t mu st be my own. T he fell e rs he re seemed ni ce, T hey almost tipped their ha ts, B ut no w they' re afte r " mi ce '' No ! th ey ca ll us "ra ts.' ' A t fi rst they so ld us book A nd reveill e buttons ga lore; I did n' t th ink t hem crooks, V\fith bath tickets, too, in store. I a in 't boua ht my wampus yet, -:\l y skirmi sh lin e is lackin,' No agent for th ese I've met. O h, my ! my h ead is cracki ng . T hey've made us all fin out, T hey aa ve a set of rul es, nd now we wa lk a roun d, \ set o f silly f ools. nd foo ls we still will be, T ill a d rea ry yea r ha passed, A nd then o suddenl yvVe' re Sophs a t last. ~I 11 0 I 1.1 '1' .-\J{ y .\1 I ~CE I . LA I' E O l 'S S('E ~ E .' �g=~='=~===g - - 1\tqlrttr 1\ssoriation }_; xec utive Co mmittee ......... . .... .. . . .. .. . A/11111/IIIS R. G. Moss. ' 11 ..... . · .. · . . . .. . . ... .. ... . ... . Fac1tlty R. E. GRO\' E. . .. . ...... . . St ud e11 t H. J. St':Liw, ' 16 ....... . · · · · · · · . · · ·. PROF. H. J. SELDY. '16 . . ......... . ...... . . . . . . . . ....... .. .. . . ....... . Pres·id e11/ C. C. J ,\RM AN, ' 17......... ... .... . .. . . . . . . .... . / '·ice-P rcside llf R. H. l\1ADDOX. '1 7....... .. .... .... .. ......... .. .. .. .. Sec refarr Pno F. J. C. GRAY. .. . .. .... .. ... .... . .. .. ... .. T reas ure·,. Foothall J. I. Tt~am L91 5 . . . .. ..... . . Caj> ta·i11 . ....... Jll an ag e r .Assista11 t Alanager . . . . Coaclt ' 16 . .. .. . .. . ...... . R. 0. J oNES, ' 16 .... .. . .. .. ... .. .. s. W. FREENY , '17... . . . .. . .. ... . .. . JoH r-; 'v\' IL ON . . . . . . . . . . ... .. . .. HEI SE . ll.as~· hall 'l't:>am 19J(; ]. I. HEI St·:. '16................. .... ..... .. .... .. . .. Caj> tai11 J . T. D uKE . ' 16. .. . .. ... . ......... . ... . ... . ... . ....... . Jllanager G. N . \1\l t(AV I•: R. '17 . . ...... ... .. .... .. .. .... . ... . .. . Assistan t .Hmwger j oHN WtL SO/\... .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .... .. .. Coac!t Hasln~ t· H. J. Jm·l N B.all Team 1!)'1 5-'16 AND REW, \;\'I I. SON. . ... . ......... . .. ... . . Caj>ta·i ll . ........ . Manager .Ass·istaut Alanager . ... Coac h '16 .... H. F. PL U MMER, '1 6 . \1\' . R CL' RFM A/\, '17 .. . . Caj>ta itt L. D. Ft t·: LDs. '16. 1 ./ . 1 . Pt·: .\RC I·:. '16 .. d . .... . J\ 1a11agcr T r nni ~ 'l't'am .1!)1 6 D. C. DowN s, ' 16.... .. .. .. . .. . .. .... .. .. Captaill F. L. Bt t' L .\ S t.; t, '1 6 .......... . . . .... . ..... . ....... .. ... . .. .. .. . . JIIa 11agcr 142 �fHls ~ a whole, the football season of 1915 was very unsuccessful. The team won only two games and lost six. She was defeated by three of the most important colleges of the State which put us out of the race for the state champion- I ship. The losing of the games cannot be laid upon the shoulder of Coach W1lson because he did every thing in his power to put together a winning combination. There was plenty of material but it seems to everybody that there were hard feelings among some of the players and they would not play together, so this can be given as the cause of the poor showing during the season. We were greatly handi- capped by Andrew's being hurt in the M . A and being unable C. game to play the rest of the season ; likewise there were a great many more players out of the most important games on account of injuries. 144 f �1J1notball 1915 Hms1: (Captain) ............. . Quarter .......... , ...... . . . Full Back SnWMJ~YER . . .. ..... .. . Left Half Back Bn~ LASKI . . .. ........ Right Half Back ANDR I~ W . . .. . . . .. .... ....... Lef t Eml S1·:LD\' . . . .... . . . . . . .. . .... Left Tackle Bowr.Rs .. . . .. ............ Left Gua rd ]-1YDI~ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Center DR Y N . ..... . .... . . . . . .. Right G uard DS H ARTSOCK .. . .......... . . Right Tackle NonLE .. .. .. . . .. . . . . ....... Right End TuRN~R Sub st itutes-DAR LGY, CLAUDE, vVo oDWARD, ] ARMAN, CRUM, ALl~ XANDT:R, Cmn;:. ST. ,JOHN'S, 43; MT. ST. l\IAH.Y'S, 0 On Octobe r· 2, S t. John 's opened he.r football season by ent i reiy overwh elmi ng Captain He ise lost the toss and ki cked off to Mt. St. Mary's, th e ball go ing about 20 yards. On the next play Bie laski inte rcepted a forward pass . Then Heise ca rri ed t he ball aro und the end for 25 ya rds, but St. John' s tried the lin e twice witho ut success . Capta in H eise dropped back for a drop kick, which fa ile.cl by yards. ?-It . St . Ma ry's lost the ball on downs and St. John's easil y scored a touchdown on a co uple of side runs. In qui ck success ion afte r the kick-off, St. J ohn 's scored another touchdown, a ncl He ise easil y kicked goal. In the second pe:riod Mt. St. Mary' s seemed to ha ve more figh t a nd sta rted a march towa rd St. J ohn 's goal, but they lost the ball on a f umble an d St roy meye r sc01·ed a touchdown by circling the end . Th en Mt. St. ".\Iary's ki cked off to St. John' s, and by circlin g the ends for cons iderab le gain a nd by a bea utiful lin e plunge by Turner we made a to uchdown. ' ['he first half ended, St. John' s ball in mid-field. The thi rcl pe ri od began w ith Mt. St. Ma ry's kicking off to St. John 's, but they soon lost the ball on a t ry fo r a fie ld goal. On an unin te rceptecl forwa rd pass by Stromeyer and a cro ss-bu ck around left end. we netted another to uchdown . In the final period, St. J ohn"s pulled off a beautiful pass for a ga in of 20 yards. an d then our reliable fu llback scored another touchdown by hitting the lin e. Thi s was the last scori ng clone. Mt. St. :M ary' s seemed to take another momentary brace an d started a march clown the field, when the game ended. · ~ J t. S t. :\Tary' s, o f Emmitsburg, 43-0, on ou r ho me ground s. 146 �111nnthall--C!lnnt. S'L'. JOHN' S , 0; F~ANKLIN 111nnthall--C!lnnt. AND MARS HALL, 48 S'L'. ,JOHN'S, 14; MARYJ_,Al\"D AGR ICULT URAL COLLEGB, 26 T he heavy F ranklin and l\1a rshall team defeated our li ght eleven by using the old-fash ioned lin e bu ckin g. This; coup led with the long and tiresome t rip which our team had to take on October 9th , played havoc with our cha nces. No sco ring was done in the 11 rst pe ri od, but in the second, St. John 's seemed to lose all of her l- ghting spirit a nd Franklin a nd Ma rsha ll sco red nea rly at will in th e second and i third pe riod, until they had run up a sco re of 48 points. In the last peri od, St. John's came back to life and held Franklin a nd Ma rshall sco reless fo r the rest of th e game. .My lin , captain of F ranklin a nd Marshall , was surely the shining sta r of hi s team, wh il e Selby was the main stay of St. John's lin e. S'L' . JOHN'S, 0; GE~".rY SH U RG, Hi On Saturday afte rnoo n, October 23, St. John' s m et Gettys burg Co ll ege on the foo tball field fo r the first time in six yea rs. T he team went up th ere with a dete rmin a ti on to even up the series a nd bring back a victory for their old A lma :\Jater. Eve ry man that had a cha nce in thi s gam e fo ught every inch un til th e fi nal whi stle, a nd we )l ave cause to feel proud of the effo rt they m ade. Gettysburg did not have any cin ch winning the game, because they we re un able to sco re in the lirst peri od, but they were able to sco re in the seco1 d, third a nd fo u rth pe riod s, i whi ch wa s eno ugh to bring defeat to old St. John 's. T urn er and Stromeye r, 111 the backfield, an d A ndrew and Selby on the li ne, we re sta rs for St. J ohn 's. :I<'OOTBALJ~ S Q UAD t. On October 30, St. John 's met defeat at the hand s of he r old ri val, M . A. C., 26 to 14. Los ing thi s game to the Aggies elimin ated St. John's from th e State championship con test. It was not the loss of the game, but the lack of ··Old St. John 's" spirit among the members of the team that hurt. T he team was in ve ry good cond iti on when th ey entered this game, an d th e whole student body was supporting the team with their utmost powe r. l\1. A. C. seemed to have pu lled a trick on St. John 's by bringing into the game two unknown men, who we re eas il y the cause of th e defeat of St. J ohn' s. B ut th ese two men should not ha ve brought defeat upon us if the team had played the kind of game that they were capabl e of p laying. In the first quarter there was no scoring clone, but in the second :~vi. A. C. was able to score a touchdow n by Shank's beautiful run . I n the third qua rte r St. J ohn' s s·co recl her fi rst touchdown. due to l\1. A. C.'s fumbling th e ba ll , which was caught up and ca rri ed 70 ya rds for a touchdown by Bielaski. St. J ohn' s was not able to stay in the lead, because l\1. A. C. soon made a nothe r touchdown 1 )\' hitting St. John 's lin e. In the last quarter. M.A. C. sco red two mo re touchdown s, one being made from the ki ck-off by Shank. St. John 's was able to sco re on ly one mor·e touchdown , whi ch was carried ove r by Cook. Had it not been for the sterling wo rk of Selby, the whole team would han been a di smal failure in the eyes of the public. ST . JOHN'S , 21; WES'.rEH.N MARYLAND COLLEGE, 7 St. Jo hn' s see med to take a new hold on li fe Saturday, November 6, when she took the eve r-revengef ul vVeste rn l\Iary lancl Co llege into camp. vVeste rn l\Iaryla ncl came upon the fi eld with a grim determination to win, but the punch a nd dete rmin at ion whi ch St. Jo hn 's showed seemed to make them forget, for a whil e. 1rst game of the season in whi ch St. J ohn 's th eir own obj ect. T hi s was the f showed her ability to use forward passes, whi ch she is so noted for. Weste rn Ma ryland won th e toss and chose to rece ive the kick. T hen the ball was fi rst in one te rritory, then th e other. Each team exchanged p unts because th e re was hold ing on each team . In th e seco nd quarte r St. John 's received the ball by holding \iVestern Mary land fo r dow ns. Then St. John's sta rted a march fo r their opponents' goal line, and score:cl their fir st touchdown by seve ra l lin e p lunges a nd end runs. St. John' s sco red again soon after the ki ck off by executin a a beautiful fo rward pass. The fi rst half en ded with St. John's. 14; W. M . C.~ 0. In the third quarter \iVestern Maryland kicked off to St. J oh n's. \ Neste rn 1\-Ian·la nd held for downs. T hen 'N. l\I. started to march towa rd St. John 's aoal lin"e. but when they got in st ri k in g d istance of ou r lin e, our good old line h e !~! \71/. l-J. for clow ns. Strom eye r ki cked ou t of danger. St. J ohn 's ball was on '-N. l\I.'s 10-ya rdlin e at t he beginning of the fo urth quarter a nd then Da rley carri ed it over fo r ou r· fina l sco re. The ball was fir st in th e possession of St. J ohn's, then Vo-/. l\I. vVith the ball in the ha nd s of vVestern l\faryla nd, they started a march toward St. .John's goal lin e. and by the aiel of seve ral penalti es fo r sid e, Keeler was able to sco re the onl y touc hdown for \IV. l\I. St. J ohn 's had th e ball in mid-field when the wh istle blew fo r the en d of the game. Keeler and Garrett were the brigh t stars for 'v'-/ . :-I., while Da rley, at qua r te r, and Noble, at end. showed up best fo r St. J ohn' s. 148 149 �1Fnnthall--illnnt. 1Fnnthall--illnnt. ST. JOHN 'S COLLEGE, 7; WASHLXGTON COLLEGE, 27 For th e seco nd time in the hi story of St. J ohn 's d id she go clown to defeat by the \ Vashington College football team on the 13th of November. Never bdo re has a team rep resenting St. J ohn 's go ne clown to defeat with out fighting to the last, but this tim e there was lac k of fight among the fellows on the team and there was lack of team wo rk , but it was not the faul t of our coach, becau se he is con side red one of the best in the State. St. J ohn 's won the to ss and chose to def end the goal with the wind at her back. Vvashin gto n College ki cked off; the ball was received by Darley, who ran it back 15 yards. St. J ohn 's tried several attacks at the line, but was un successf ul , and Stromeyer was fo rced to ki ck. Then Washington College began a ma rch towa rd St. John 's goal by th e use of forward passes. Enright came through right tackle fo r l.J yard s and a to uchclown. St. John 's retaliated by sco ring a touchdown in three minutes after the k ick off, and this, by th e way, was the onl y time fight was shown by St . J ohn' s. \i\Tashington Coll ege came back st rong in the second qua rte r a nd scored t wo more touchdown s by the forward passes from Enright to Frampton. At the beginning of the third quarte r St. John' s seemed to take a new lease of figh ting sp irit, but onl y to falter at the most criti cal tim e. A t thi s point Brown fe ll back a nd put ove r a b : autiful drop kick from the 48-yardline for ~Was hin gton Co ll ege. \i\Tashin gton College was able to score only in the las t pe ri od through the ab ility of B ro wn's kicking a nothe r field goal. Alexande r and Dryden we re the bright sta rs of St. J ohn 's, whil e F ram pton and E nri ght excell ed for vVashington Col lege. In the seco nd quarte r neither team was ab le to sco re. St. John' s had a good chance to sco re ano th e r touchdown. but the hard luck whi ch has followed th e team t he ·whole season caused uBull;. Turner to fumble the ball about live va rds from Hopki ns' goal. S t. John's was not abl e to score in the last half, bL{t she was in the gam e: all the time iightin g. I-:T opkin s was able tb score two more to uchclowns in the last half by the good work of .1-:l off man and B rooks. Alth ough we lost the Ilopkin s game, the show ing made by both the team a nd student body wa s no mean one. The old St. J ohn's spirit was there that da y in a ll it s glory. ST. JOHN'S 1:3: PENl\'SYL\'ANlA MlLI'l'A RY COLL I!;UE, 3 5 O n Thank sgiving Day S t. John's journeyed to Cheste r , Pa., and the\· we re defeat ed by the P. :.'II. C. Cadets by the sco re of 3. -13. Thi s was P. ;.r. C.' s big ; game, a nd they went in it with a determination to reve nge the d t·feat of last yea r. T hi s was St. John' s last gam e and there was not much in terest taken in it. Som e of the playe rs refus ed to make the trip, a nd thi s handicapped the team \'ery mu ch, the resul t of thi s being the loss of th e game. By long end run s P. ~J. C. was able to score all it s to uchdowns. \ Nh il e Jarman was again the shining star for St. J ohn' s, mak ing both of the to u chdowns, Selby and Dryden also did splen did work on the line fo r St. John's. ST. JOHN'S, 6; JOHNS HOPIUNS, 20. Un der ideal weather conditi ons, St. John 's met h e r old ri val, Johns 1-:Topkins, on the 20th of November, a nd was defeated 20-6. Thi s vvas one of the best games that the tEam p layed th e whole season, because t hey were in the game Jighting f or everything that they were worth. The whole team deserves much cred it for the show ing that they made again st the heavy team of the Black and B lue. The team went in the game with a long string of di sheartening reverses behind them a nd comparative sco res pointing to an ove rwhelmin g defeat. O ur boys lined up with g rim determination written on eve ry face and we re eage r to show the old fighting spirit, whi ch kept the roote rs .guessing all the tim e. In th e backfield, Jarman proved to be a star in th e quarterback pos iti on. Too much credit cannot be given thi s boy on account of hi s coolness and good judgment in runn ing the team. It looked as if h e were th e who le backfield in the fi rst half . St romeye•- a nd A lexander also did splendid work in the backfi eld. \ iVhenever they were call ed upon by their quarterback to carry the ball th ey were a lway s sure of 10 to l .J yards. \,Yhile on the line, Selby a nd Dryden we re the shining sta rs. O ften Selby would break through th e Hopkins lin e a nd na il one of the bac kfi eld men before he would get started with the ball. Captain .Heise won the toss and Hopkins kicked off. T hen th e ball was fir st punted from one end of the field to the othe r·, until H offman, of H opkin s, was able to sco re a touchdown by seve ral line plunges a nd penalti es whi ch we re inflicted upon St. John 's for off sid e. Finall y, St. John's made a start for th eir opponents' goal line and was able to sco re a touchd own by seve ra l end runs and line plunges. 150 "COACH'' WILSON 151 �JUNIOR CORRESPONDENCE COURSE FOOTBALL SCENES �ilanrhall. 19 15 l-IE baseball seaso n o f 19 Li was, from St. J ohn 's viewpoint, rathe r un success ful , yet there were seve ral redeeming feat ures. The most important of whi ch was th e forming of nucleu s fo r a new team of young and expe ri enced playe rs. Captain :\fatt hews was slow rounding into form, a nd toward the end of the seaso n showed fla shes of old-time bril li a ncy. The team sho ;ved :li nn d etermination, that old St. .1 ohn 's spiri t, whi ch enabled them to come out on the long end of the sco re, often winni ng in th e clo sin g fra mes in well timed ral li es . vVe met and defeated our old ri val , :VI. A . c.; in two wel l BASEBALL CAPT A I N AND MANAGER played games. T he m ost notabl e game of the season was playe d wi th D elawa re Co ll e.sc, in wh ich St. J ohn 's was defeated 1 to 0. It took 17 innin gs to dete rmin e th e wi nner, the ga me being feat ured by the great defe nsive work o f both team s. Freen y, Jarm a n, Heise and Cassard form ed a stonewall infi eld th at was the equal of any in the State. H a uver was our reli ab le main stay behind the bat, ancl was there with the ··pep .' ' Jump, Tucker and B rown played the outli eld in fa ul tless style. Th e utility jobs were creditabl y filled by l\Ierriken , Lowman, Stromeye r, Noble and Burgess. Too mu ch credit ca nn ot be given to our esteemed Coach, J. N . Wi lson, for hi s un tiring wo rk for the team and hi s A lm a 1\Iater. In conclu sion. w e: may say that the seaso n promised great things for the fu ture. STRAYERS' GAME 154 8 A s E B A L L �'iasrhall 1915 ::'IIATTI-u :ws (Captain) .. . . . . .. . . Pitcher 1 AUVER .. .... .. . . .... . . . . . . . Catcher -f FR I~ J~ · y .. . ....... . . . .... .. . F irst Base TARMA N . ....... . .. . ... .. Seco nd Base ]-IJ·:Isl\ .. . . .. . .. .. .. .. . . ... Short Stop CASSARD ... ... . . . .. ... . . .. T hird· Base T ucKER . . . ...... . .. . .... . R ight F ield J UM P .. .. ....... . .... . . . . Center F ield ~eft F ield Nonu:, B n~­ BROWN .......... . .. .. ..... S ubstitutes-Low:YIA N, cr::ss, S'l'R0:\1E YER . 156 �1hlanrhall--orn nt. WASHINGTON COLLEGE, 4; ST. JOHN'S, 5 St. John 's defeated Wa shington College by batting harder and more tim ely, by the score of 5 to 4. Merriken twirled a steady game for the Cadets, havi ng g on ly one bad inning. Biddle was on the mound for vVashington Coll e: e and was a little wild in the opening stanzas, St. J ohn's coll ecting a ll their tallies in the third and fo urth innings. Afte r that Biddle held them scoreless. Spedden played we ll for V/ashington College, whil e Free ney a nd Merriken starred for S t. J ohn's. RO CK HILL, 8; S'l'. JOHN'S, 10 l\1'1'. S'.r. M A RY' S , ll; ST. JOH:.\' 'S , 6 St. John 's journ eyed to E mmitsburg to open the season and were defeated by Mt. St. Mary's. Fo ur run s were sco red off Me rriken' s deli ve ry in th e first 111 nin a. Jn the second , Capta in Matthews took up the nitch~1 a but was unable to sta r) th e sco ring. Camino's 'home run and the batting of Ri ce featured for the ""' Moun tai neers. For St. J ohn's, the batting and fl eld ing of Hei se and ::\iiatth ews' pitching stood out prominent. HOLY CI'WSS, 4; ST. JO H N'S, 3 St. John's lost a ,ha rd- fought ten-innin g game to H oly Cross on the Cadets' fi eld , the fin al sco re bein g 4- 3. Capta in Matthews twirled a maste rly game fo r St. J ohn 's-. striking out fo urteen men, but hi s loss of the aa me was chi erl v clue to ]JOO r base- runnin ()' of his team-mates a nd the inability t'> to pu t ac ross a hi tJ a t the crit ical tim e. Ca"' rroll and Long showed up we 11 f or H ol v Cross, whi le Captain Matthews' pi tchin g and Freeny's home run feat ured f or 'st. J oh n' s. M'l.'. S'l'. JOSl<;J>H'S, 7 ; S'l' . JOHN' S, 4 St. Toh n's met defeat at the ha nd s of 1\II t. St . Joseph's at Irvington. Capta in ::\.latthe,;·s held the m ound f or St. John' s and stru ck out eight men, whil e "Rube" ::\ leacl o\\·s, hi s oppon ent . ret ired seventeen by strike outs. ::\Ieadows was wild durin g the 1-i rst t1~ 0 innings, but ste adi ed dow n a nd pitched good ball. Features of th e ga me we re the running ca tch by J a rman, for St. J ohn 's, and the battin g of :\I orga n. for M t . St. J oseph' s. GALLAU DET, 0; S'l'. ,J O HN 'S, l Tn a close ly contested game, St. Jo hn 's d efeated Galla udet by t he score o f 1 to 0. T he feature of the game was the twi rlin g of Ras mussen , of the ::\lutes . 1-Te fanned twelve m en and a ll owe d onl y two h1ts, whil e he got two of hi s team s four hi t~. Tucker was on the mo und f or St. John's a nd pit ched an excell ent ga me, allowi ng fo ur scattered hi ts . NAVY, 8; S'J'. JOHN' S , 5 .\Tan defeate d St. J ohn 's in the flr st of a se ries .o f th ree gam es, S- 5. Both team s batted well . eac h o btaining eleven clea n binglcs, an d t he fi elding of N avy was fau ltless, whil e St . J ohn 's got nin e mi scu es. Capta in l\I atthews pitched a superb ga me, kee!)ing hi s hits well scatte red, but hi s support was very poor. H eise's circui t clout to deep center, driving in three run s, f eatured for St. John 's while th e batting of H icks f eat ured fo r Navy. 158 St. John 's trimm ed Rock Hill in an uphill ,g ame. l\IIerriken started on the motmd for S t. John 's and held the visitors to six runs. H e was reli eved by Captain :Matthews in the eighth frame . Schmid iger held the Cad ets sco reless for six innings, but in the seventh they la nded on him for home run s, t wo doubl es and three singles, collecting six talli es. With two men on bases in the ninth , Capta in Matth ews struck out the last tvvo men. F reeny, of St. John' s, and Schmidi ger, of Rock H ill, di vided the batting honors, the fo rme r getting a home r and a tripl e, th e latte r a home r, a double and a single. P . 1\f.. C., 2; ST. JOHN'S, 12 St. J ohn 's made it a clean sweep in athlet ics staged wi th P. M. C., by defeating th em in a long-drawn-out game, 12-2. Tu cke r was on the mound f.or St. J ohn's and was maste r of the situation a t all times. The fie lding of Freen y a nd batt ing of Heise featured for St. J ohn 's, whil e Schn eebeli was the star fo r P.M. C. 1\fT. ST . .JOSI:•~PH'S, !l; S'.r. JOHJ\"'S, 7 ::\ft. St. Joseph 's def eated St . J ohn 's on th e Cadets ' fie ld , the reby taking a way the hopes of State cha mpionshi p. Bo th tea ms batted hard , th e losers gettin g two more hits tha n the winne rs. T he game was full of pep a nd Captain i\Iatthews deserYed to win. but was given p oor support, and ju st when the suppor t was bad the J osephites came across w ith some timely hits. Camali er, for Mt. St. Jo seph 's, and Freeny shared the batting hono rs. Camalier got a t ripl e and two doubles, whil e F reeny ba nged out a tripl e, double an d single. W . M. C ., 5; ST . JOHN' S, 17 In a slow a nd unin te rest ing game, St. J ohn 's swamp ed \"!este rn ~Iary la nd at \1\' estmini ster, 17- S. Thi s game made a clean sweep in a thl eti c act iviti es between th e two coll eges for thi s yea r. Captain ·M atthews was mast·e r of th e \ "!estern :M aryland batsmen at all tin\~s . The batting of Tucke r a;1d Brown feat ured th e co ntest, the form e r gett ing three singl es and the latte r two triples and a single. WASHING'J'O\" AND LEE, 6; ST . ;JOHi\''S, 4 St. J ohn 's met vVashington a nd Lee on home g rounds and we re defeated. 6- 4. Ivi erriken, who did the tw irlin g for St. J ohn' s, was hi t hard in the first three inn ings, and with p oo r head work on part of St. J ohn 's the visitors crossed the rubber fo ur tim es. St. J ohn's mad e a game rall y in th e eighth, but were not ab le to ove rcome th e generals' lead . Harri so n and Ba il ey were the ~ta rs for \ Vashin gton a nd L ee, each getting two hits f or a total of five bases . F o r th e Cadets, Tucke r and Jump played best. NA:\T 22; Y, S'r. ,JOHN'S, 0 . Na\'y completely ove r whelm ed St . John 's by th e sco re of 22- 0. N avy had the1r ba tting eye with them, although St. J ohn 's fleld ed ve ry po01·;y behind r.'I at th ews. T. Fishe r, Adams and McFall starred at the ba t for . lav.y. 159 �1hhts£hnll--<:!Iont. M. A. C., 3; S. J. C ., 4 St. John' s defeated her old ri val, I\1. A. C., 4- 3, in a well-played ga me on the Cadets' fi eld. With the sco re a tie in the ninth , Heise stole hom e with the winning run. I\Iatthews pitched a sta rtling game for St. J ohn's, all owin g the Farmers Jive scattered hi ts. At the bat Jump and Tucker starred for St . John 's, and K node and Derrick stood out for M. A. C. J. H. U., 5; S. J. C., 3 St. John' s journ eyed to Homewood and vvere defeated by her old rival, J ohn s Hopkins, 5- 3. Defandorf, for Hopkin s, twirled a maste rl y game, all owi ng the Cadets fo ur hi ts . Captain Matthews pitched a heady game, but was given poor support by hi s team-mates, and H opkin s took ad vantage of all the mi scues. Defandorf also was ready with the willow, clouting out two bingles . \Vorthing was the heav ier wielder, gath ering a triple and doubl e and two walks out of Jive trips to the plate . EASTERN, 10; S'J'. JOHN 'S, 3 1n one of th e wo rst exhibiti ons of baseball put ·up by St. John's this season, she was defeated by Easte rn College, by the score of 10 to 3. Merriken started to pitch for St. J ohn 's, but did not far e so well. T he poo r use to whi ch hi s hea d was put also h elped materi all y in our defeat. In the seventh, with two men on , Captain ~Iatt h ews took up the burden, but sti ll Easte rn pu shed two run s across -before th ey were ret ired . In the eighth a nd ninth only six men faced .. ~Iatty' ' a nd fi ye went out by the st rikeout route. W ASHING:'l'ON, 1; ST. ,JOHN' S, 0 \Nith rain almost bursting from the cloud s. S t. J ohn 's and vVashington start ed to play the final game of a se ries of two on the latter's field. Af ter th e game hacl gone three frame s, the downpour came and lasted a half hour, durin g which tim e the teams left the field. Th rough the noble work of W. C.'s esteemed coach the fie ld was swept clean of water and sha vings were put aro und each of the bases. " Play ball' ' was soon continued, after m a ny a rgum ents with the ·' woul d-be National L eague" umpire. In the fifth \iVashington sco red the first run and th e burst of enjoyment that went uo with it was only sh ortli ved. for St. John' s came back and sco red two in the six th. St. John' s sta rted to take the field in the sixth , when the umpire ra n out and called th e game on accoun t of the li ttle ra in whi ch h ad just begun . This gave the game to vVashington Coll ege, 1 to 0, at the close of the fifth. Captain :Matthews a nd Tucker t wirl ed splendid ball for St. J ohn's. DELAWARE COLLl~ GE, 1; ST. JOHN'S, 0 J n one of the longest and best played games eve r staged by a St. J olln 's team they we re defeated by Dela ware, on the latte r's fie ld , in a seventeen-inning game, by th e sco re of 1 to 0. Both team s played the one, two, three order fo r the first nin e innings. T wenty-eight men fa ced Captain :;viatthews, while twenty-nin e men facecl Hock, Delaware Coll ege's twirler. T hree errors by St. John' s and two l)y D elawa re also tell th e class of ball pl ayed by each team in such a long contest. M. A. C., 1; S. J. C., 5 St. John 's f-ini shed the season by d efeating M . A . C. on their own field , by the sco re of ~ to 1. Captain Matthews twirled in old-tim e style . all ow in g the :-\ggies four scattered hits. At th e bat Hau ve r an d Freeny sta rred f or St. J ohn 's, each co ll ectin .~ three hi ts. Knode played best for th e Farmers. 160 BASEBALL SCENES �IHankrt IHall 19lfi J1E basket ball ~easo n of 1916 was the most su ccessful one the team has enj oyed sin ce 19 12. The team lost the first game to Catholi c U nive rsity, but after that showed wonde rfu l team work a nd was not beaten except by Navy. 'vVe had four of last year' s team back, J a rm an and Heise, fo rwards; A ndrew and Selby, guards. Dun phy, the 19 15 ce n~ ter, was lost, but hi s place was ab ly fiiled by Cla ude. The forwards p layed a sta r game and th e gua rds were among the best in the S tate. Du e to unfortunate circumstances, we were not abl e to play either 'vVashington College or CAPTAIN AND MANAGER BASKET-BALL l\!It. St. Ma ry's. But in compa rati ve scores we appea r better than vVashington College, whom P. M. C. def eated dec isively, whil e we ou tclassed the latter team. :M t. St. Joseph 's was defeated in both games, and thi s team in turn d efeated both vVashington Co llege and Loyola . There fore, :VIt. St. Mary's was the on ly dangerou s co nte nde r, a nd it was not through a ny , f ault of ours that the game with them wa s cance ll ed. After all is said, we feel sure that, since no really undi sputed cla im can be made f or the State title, St. Joh n's has the best right to it as matte rs now stan d. Too much credit cann ot be given Coach \Nil son for hi s untiring efforts to turn ou t a good team. The men a lso were faithf ul and dese rve the high est prai se. The lon g layoff, during the time th e Co llege was closed, evidently was bene11cia l because the team came back and did not lose a game. 'l'he team was a bl y captained by A ndrew, who p layed right gua rd, the other pos iti ons bein g filled as fo llows : Jarm a n, ri ght forward ; :Heise, left fo rward ; Cla ude, center; Selby, left .guard. T he sub stitutes we re Cook, W eaver and vVatson. 162 �ANDRJ\W, SJ~LBY . Captain .......... . Left Gua rd . . .. .• . . . . . . . . •.. . R ight Guard CLA u m: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Cen ter 1-IEISl~ ........ . ... . .... Ri ght Fo rward JARMA N .... . . . ... . . . ... Left Fo r wa rd S ub st it n tes-\ i'lJ.:AvF:R, Coor<, \ i ATSON . V JARMAN 164 �If~a.altrt Iaall---illout. CATHOLIC UNI\ 'El~Sl'l~Y, 3 1; ST. J O HN 'S, 15 On Saturd ay, J an uary 8, th e team opened th e season with Catholi c Un ive rsity , a t An napolis. The first half end ed 13 to 12. in favor of St. John' s. But Cathol ic U n ive rsity came back and 0\·erwhelm ed us in the second half. Caff rey, Gallivan a nd Ca rtwright star red fo r Catholic Un iversity, whi le Cla ude, A nd rew and Selby played well fo r the home team. S'J'. ,JOHN' S, 23; J)t'r . S'L' . J OSF:P H.' S , 15 St. J ohn's beat ~\'It. St. J oseph 's, on the latte r's floo r, 23- 1 ~. :\Iany sensatio nal shots we re caged by both teams. Nolan and Suarez starred fo r :\It. St. Joseph 's, and Heise and Jarma n for St. J ohn 's. ~AVY, 40; S'J'. JOHN 'S, 19 St. John 's lost to Navy after a stubborn uphi ll fig ht. Wilkes starred for NaYy, Ja rman an d Selby fo r St. J ohn's. ST. JOHN' S , 22; M.T. ST . JOSEPH'S , 20 I n a nip and t uck game, St. John's beat Loyola . 22-20, thus puttin g them out of State championship. Jarm a n, A ndrew a nd Claud e sta r red for St . J ohn' s, Sua rez and Nola n for the losers. S'J'. J OH~ ' S, 54; ROCli:. HILL, 30 In a game fu ll of exc it ement St. John 's defeated Rock Hi ll , on the latte r's cour t, 54-30. The St. J ohn 's team played as a un it through out t he gaille. Ba rell a sta rred for Rock H ill. ST. JOHN'S , 43; ROCli:. I-IILL, 28 S t. John's again beat Rock H ill , on the fo rmer's court, by 43-28. St. J ohn 's had no indi vidu al sta rs. B rennan sco red the most points for Rock Hill. ST. J O HN 'S, 37; P . l\'1. C., 3 0 St. J ohn 's defeated P . :i\1. C., on the latter's court, 37-30. J a rma n starred fo r St. John's, sco ring twenty-one points; Sickl es p layed best fo r P . 1\I. C. S'J'. JOHN'S, 44; Dl< LAWARE, 26 , lege. In the fina l game of th e season, St. J ohn' s decisively def eated Delawa re ColJ a rma n, Claude a nd Selby played best fo r St. ] olm's; Reeder a nd vV illi s, for Delaware. 166 TRACK �IDrarlt §quab A H. Nonu~ '1'. R. Houu: s FlU\ N K ELZE Y ]( . l\f. 'f_RA Y.l':H C. B uRC J: ss · A. F . 1-IoLDL:-\ C. C. HoLM". s TR.ACK CAPTAIN AND MANAGER. IDntrk HE track team began its practice before Ch ri st mas, unde r Captain Fi elds. with quite a few new candidates . The real hard, grilling work, however, clid not begin until after the holidays. when Captain Fi elds put hi s charges through stiff, snappy clashes and cross-country run s. Ow ing to our enforced vacation, on account of sca rlet fever at th e College, the team cou ld not panicipate in either the Geo rge Washington meet or the Fifth Regiment Armory-Johns H opkin s meet, but came back st rong in the Georgetown m ee t at vVashington, on the fourth of .i\llarch. In this meet Captain Fields, A. :H. No ble and E lzey entered the .'iO-yard open dash, and although they did not win ·a place, Field s and Noble made fa st time in their heats and won them. Holmes came fourth in the 440-yarcl open run and fift h in the 880-yard run, with Burgess and Noble not far behind. The out-of-door se• son is yet to open, but we have prospects of a fast and a experienced relay team, which is now fast working into p roper shape and, no boubt, will run their oppo nents a game and snappy race . 168 �Wruuts 1Rrrorb for 1915 John s Hopkin s. . . . . . . 6; S. Catholi c U nive rsity .. . . . .. . . 2; S . :\I. A. C.................. . 0; S. J. J. J. C .. . .. . . . .... . ..... . .. 0 C ... . ........ . .. ... . .. 4 C....... .. ....... ..... 6 l...:"ni vers ity of Va .... . ..... . 4; S . J. C .... . . . . . . . .. . ...... . 2 U ni ve rsity of Geo rgetown .. .4; S. J . C. .. .. . .. . .. . . . . . . .... 2 Washington College ..... . .. 0 ; S. J. C ... . .... ... . . . ... . .. . 2 U ni ve rsity of l-Iarylancl .. ... 3; S. J. C .... ... .. .. . . . . . . . ... 3 :\l. A. C . .. .. . . . ........ . 3; S. J. C.... .... .......... ... 3 lluntor lR ahlrs TENNI S T EA M 170 One b1 ht, Sunn y da y last Fa ll ou r Junior C lass decid ed to hir e· a ''J ew Packard'' ·ig a nd take a "J oy Rid e" to o btain a post-g r a duat e deg r ee in Bo ta n y. Fo r Lu n ch we to ok along a large Bag o f " Pre tzels ," which ava il ed us n o thing. fo r before we had Ve ntur ed far, it "Fe ll " o ut o f the Car a nd la nd ed in '·:vi id dle H.i ve r ," w hi ch w e we r e C ro ss in g. T h e Sig ht mad e a good A pp ear ance as th e Car was "Sp ick" and Spa n . As Botany was o ur ,Objec t, we n at ur a ll y h ead ed '' Woo dward ." vVc had ju s t t urn ed a Cu r ve w h e n we saw a c uri o us o ld Man a h ead of us. H e held out hi s Ha nel a nd we s t o pped. He to ld us h e wa s '·Pete r Cur fma n" a nd a '' Mill e r' ' by T rad e a nd a lso Co n stabl e of Kn o t a tow n. \!V e asked him th e '·P ri ce" of o ur Mi sd e m ea no r , a nd afte r paying him a ''Nob le" s um o f o ne " Buck" dro ve o n . In pass ing t hr o ug h " Houston ." a "\!Veaver'' came o ut o f h is S hop and inquir ed w h e r e we were from. He t a lked qu it e a w hil e, a nd in hi s Co n ve r sat ion sa id h e wa s a "B urg ess" o f this g r ow ing tow n. vVe drove o n a little furt h e r a nd , hav ing o f "Ea t s" n ot a " Crum ," a ll vote d to turn back towa rd "Crabto wn ." vVe had not go n e far when we noti ced a " M ad d-ox" c ha rg ing clown on us; he wa s a large " H. ecl " one and loo ked fie rce; we didn 't have a ny ''B uggy v\lhip," of co ur se, so we got afteT him with a " Dingbat," but he o n ly became th e mor e e nra ge d with " Ir a." So m e o n e ye lled "Stan '- For d ! S ta nd th e charge!" F in a ll y a 'B rav e ·Ma n. in th e r ea r sea t, got o ut and ca ll ed, co m e, " F lossy,' ' and the Bu ll ca m e· a s g e nt le as a Lamb . \11/e s tart ed off aga in and were nea r ly H o m e w h e n a h eavy "S t o rm " ca m e up. and '·Ho ly J oe'' ! it was some "S to rm." O n e fe ll ow said. " I do n't 'Ca r e-y' b it , let u s ge t wet.'' F in a lly, w he n th e r ain ha d stopped, we r eac hed the Co ll ege look ing lik e dr ow n ed Rats. Th e moral is n eve r to fo rget o n e Expe ri e nc e a n d Troub le we ha d in g e tting back to C rabtown, bu t to remember '' By Persever a nce We Co nqu e r." 171 �n(\C..,wu- D •sroner~~~~~r" It" JNJ"OJ1HFtL GL, ft-7 P.'l E 3 ~i.·~ / 1\ ,.DOli of w•R" ill 1 TI ,cs 111''"" ~,,.,~ ,.,?' 0)1' OLP l' t.rTUH'"· 1\MO -1\<'~v.·- 1'""tl -' ~, ...· . · .~ ~, 'o h " 11os~· sTI\WfOf\D STUDENT IP!fll..l.. HIS ~orty /I S ;Jl HI." oc.c.u-f' l co S 'ftjf "' !;VOUiTI{);i S ~~~ o"FJUDG..,"'- 1'1 ~' ~1 H~ L) l~E of "JC( M ~COI"II\5 - Sl ~C.\0 ~ of" St!OWI!H.., DlffC'Ot'NT OI'VIi LOf' M li ~T. ADVAI1Cf0 Of\ A&fGni:Ht:'lltAfi!'D 7? A rr12Hfr~ D 01(\HilY i\ 5 P OS I'~ 11 011' H " ~~ ~ --"f ORTHa.=O cC AS IO .. . ~ :&:;; _..- (' I r\~MittO ~ O" '-=- oF A ' '.P,?~ I ..• , • .,o.. ""nr ooKT H~ ? .. IH'" ..f:,ANOA HO " DJN~E> AT"- 0 - 0- 0 - 1/AfTUflfS !! /ILL "RE qOOO T O N ~ > DISCORO ~ HtRc \ .~ ~ ..... ' ~rill.J ~~~ WHirN ~l<lf> f\ • 011 H 10 ON~:< or,.. HOPPL'<P,-HI:;> iTh Rllf:10I\~D 'TI111T HI.': Ll l:WI'l EI\T SOOR 1\RI\Ul" roo. -+'o~.­ THIS LIV/Nc.- &AU~I\c.~ " ls ~ Hl5 co~ST~HI C.Of"l PiifiiO.'l -"c,_, "s,.,"' ':::.t '?~, kvt.· . rl) T~tToNS IMi S\lM~ ~o~f\L-. ''P~~ CORRI:SPOHI>EJfC.I? C.OUAS~~ IS Sl"ILL f'~OURISHIN~ . YOU ~f\U(\HfY H~/\RT8~fi\Kt:R YOUII-ANI) YOUHQ.! '' ~<li ,. LADY " WIT!ji1(R PI\INI;O EXPA"S~ION. WONP~R rf SH~ lli:A••Y Sufft' RS ?? llt'r OC ~ .. )'" ''M.ULY 1\Rh ,. B~Tr.Of\ ~ !.' •' ~A J.. 00 h' S . / 6t1l' HI\ :!. Al.L rH r! ""'" �'' ooc "'~-J';-_ TRI\'< E. ~ IS f\LyJ/\Y'i> ot< '{1\lO JOI'> · ~1'1)­ NOTf: : - t-It:: HI\ "" RATHER llU"' 'tl I S TY PIOW fll'f~R lHIIH frO YO Ttu~ J'10VI l': S . NOTE :j_ :- ~IE TO <\0 lO c. HOTli 3 :- H I ~ All A C.Co ~ ­ -fLI5Ht:D L~ KILL\'; fl. "FATS " W~AV~I\ "l'-' 1\~1:. 1-lfli 51~ INHL'I'I I)· WAS NINI?W~~~~~ Of"A~-W~I\R~ A &-A ViAl Ill: Apt; A AI-~ Of C::ili:Rf\TUI\ro - PI:R (OPY. - 5ll-'1<PS l'HI': ISCl'f> . I"' C; ITS«R~ SoRT o ruw. ELQt&, ,_H•~~f~~~,: . WITH A 4 111<-UM~S 1\EMAIND~ROf Ill'~ THI< Of' A~ Of I t:st lOWMD~N IMPI~I._,_ DiR\:(tiON Df o.c.:, VI;RV 1'1\0UO 01" !T 1\N 0 HAY~ Sli~~ wM<H- OOI<S'"'r IT? I. -- --- -:::-· \ M,-:::: ~~\~' ~ \. r~e~-~ ~ S.J.(.. MACHINE CiUH PLATOO~ I~ AC'liOII . AH- Bulltlf:l>~ AAI! tH" R'-'ALSOI.~Ir:JHi. BuT JUST W~oTTI~L THAT KENTUC.Hi:Y SUM . Sl'R/KL:s tHI:M THIS SI!MMEfl, ,..a;:~. ·f oop fRoM ,t~-~ <l Bl.ANI~ v ? i:.X.Pilt:SSION- iiLSO 'f'Rl"QU a= NT'LY LIS LOP 1\~ --- M:H~W~H&; ,-:~ . STAflT HIOilE .1)/M,flAM <Rlioc,'s •f" ('""'"· \IL'ML'N/S ----====.:...- ~----------- - - ...... --. '·'r<~,-·--: • -" .., • .. · ,,.. :: ,..,~-., ,. .. ' • • --, r"• .. ' / .---, ,: ·, ·- , +- : 1 _, '• ',' II DI SC.V I SG: • --~- . ~F;l!l THO~ L:~D- ~ '· ·.. r ···· •·" · TIMo: ·oF ".. . '·- 't -··· ::x)· ~~) _::--2~:;:;:--·--~ ·-.___:-~~-;)=-~;~~-~> , '--,' i' ' I • ! " ' •' ~ �NOrG >PiDcll I:Fi ' ECJ' P/IO L' I\ f FOIIf"/ / ~,........ (, . l')ltflE 'W.f,i ' OI'ICI'; /IH ()1.1> WOM/1~ !~ · A "s L1012PIr.:;~---------------------" '~L EJ3 Jiiii~ _D S"JIL t= " TH I2 S /1JL ~ Tit liT WO\\'r f\U£) rff F" (TH O N<B o oy I I?I..;" M121'1.BI>:I1 5 HIM ~ va.:n C,.I\- 1Nct I 'T TH ~ o PPO llYtJ Hft S ttO" - t:J't.. IHC. - - �,fU:\' E l lf\ l, L CO .II.I II TT:i' io; ~ 1ilr ltnqurury 1Rrport of §t. ] of1u' s <!lollrgr Annapolis , Md ., January 13, 1916. CADET OFFENSE EXCUSE D emerits -- 20 McNEILL Absent drill Indisposed MITTENDORF Bed not rolled Still in it SCARBOROUGH Gun not dressed No clothes Excused RIPPERE Spitting i" ranks Habit Excused -- -- RIDGLEY Smoking in uniform STURDY Late class- Second offense O ut late night before SCHUMACHER Shoes not shined Absent 10 :30 Calling on a fair one -- 25 Can't reach them WADDELL .. - - .. Math. II Forgot he had one on 10 No book -- GRAY Lights after taps WHITE Not answering Reve ille Ro ll Call Dreaming of Horace HANDY Absent all classes Hunting his watch GROVE Fr ench Leave Some dame GLADDEN Not shaved Razor in "Hock" - -- - Working up a clue A glimpse of what it wou ld be like were we to change places. 178 10 ---- IS 10 -- 6 10 I -- 5 30 50 10 �DE §t. 1Jnqn's irbattng IDram N. DODGJ2 VVooDwARD .. . .... . . . ... . ...... .. .. ... . Philo lw lion ARTHUR B. JA CQUES .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . Ph£/o /wlion L u 'I'HJ! R T . MILES . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . : . . Philoma lhean JAME S T . D ui<J2 ....... . ... . . ................. . . . Philolwlian UE to the effo rts of Professors Handy and Sturd y and the will ingness of the students to co-operate with them, a new coll ege acti vity has been brought into the lim e-li ght. na mely, a coll ege debating team. Effo rts were taken along the same lin e last yea r, but due to some cause th e team ne ve r became a reali ty. On January 17, 19 16, what is now pro udl y and ju stly hai led as St. John 's Debating Team, met and defeated, we a re glad to say, tho ugh with no mali ce toward our guests in question , The Debating Team of De laware Co ll ege. Acco rding to th e judges. if it had not been for the '·sticktoit iveness" with whi ch the oppon ents hand led th e sticky substan ce, chewing gum, we woul d probably have had more trouble in hemm ing them in . Be that as it may, our team is now a live, tangib le thing, and, its phase of work, will t ry, as our other teams do, to bea r up old St. John 's a nd p lace her in a conspicuous positio n amo ng her siste r co ll ege·s. Lastly, we hope that the celeb rated St. John" s spiri t and spo rtsman ship wi ll cha racterize ou r efforts along these lin es as along othe rs and that victo ry , if n eeds be, will be a seco ndary consid eration to them. 180 ), �1PnoF . PROF. J. J. J. B. Y. M . C. A . OFFICERS flt\l. ill. A. ®ffirrrs l!l15-l fi RIL'Pl~RJ~ ... ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . Faculty Adv·iser 1. :!0. S. S . .1-f ANDY . . . • . . . . • .. . .. . .. . . . . . . .. FaC1tlt'J' Adviser T . SP JCKNA LL, '17 . ..... . . .. .. . . . ... .. . . .. ...... . Presid ent <1I. 1\. :!Oruthrrn Bennett, A . l\1. NDER :M r. Spicknall 's leadership, the Y. lVI. C. A. has flouri shed and rounded out in to a well organi zed body. Th e membership includ es half of th e boa rding students. a nd the association has a well furni shed a nd attract ive room in :,;I cDowell Hall. To Ni r . Spickn all is due the su ccess tha t has bee n obtain ed in th e last year. O n hi s should ers f ell the burden of getting up th e Y. 1\II. C. A. ha ndbook , whi ch has ,g uided so m any of us in th e right direction. J:le has had two able wo rke rs in M r. K ni ghton and M r . Talton . A delegation of fi ve men wa s sent to the Niissiona ry Conference at We ste rn Maryla nd Coll ege, where they h ad bo th a ve ry interesting a nd in structive trip, w hi ch incidenta lly was enlivened by the Y. W. C. A. del egates from ~-'fary l and Coll ege for \ Vomen. In closing, it is felt that the Y. M. C. A. ha s had a very successf ul year a nd 1hat the future is full of promi se fo r the advan cem ent of the cause. 182 Selby, H. .J. H unt , R. E . Sheetz, J. R B roadrup, E. E. II Flo lm es, T. R. Boulden, M. P. 'vV. KN r GI-ITON, ' 18 .... . .. ... . . .. . . . .... ..... Vice-P 1·es-ident I. B. T ALTON, '17 .. . . ... . . . ..... . .. . . ..... .. .... .. Tr eas1wer H. L. D. STANFORD, Jn., ' 17 ........... . ·........... . Secretary Jones, R. 0 . Sleight, L. C. Cook e, J . R. L igon, T. L . S mith, F. B. Cox, M.A. Crum, R . Vv'. Lowe, S. J. :M ack, VV. E. Smith, J. W. Smith, N. H. ·c unningham , R . Martin , W . Somervill e, Matthews, S. 'V\l . Stanford , Duk e, J. Ga rdn e r, E. 0. 1\![en cke, L. ::vi:etzger. G. K . Stann , J. 1\1. T rayer, K. M. Harri s, W. 1\11. Moo re, G. C. T ucke r, W. B. H iedelbac h, B. S . Polk, E. B. Watson , Holden, F. A. Schuele, A. W ell s, G. E . Denni s, J. P. 183 J. 1~1 . L. D. J. \N. • �JAM r·:s T. DuKI·:, '16 ...... . ...... . ............. . .. . President FR r L . B u2LASKI, ' 16 . ... . . ... .......... .. . ... Vice-Pres ident ::n W. E. l\I ACK, ' 18 .... . .... . ........... . ... .. . ..... . Secretary G. T. 1\II A c r<.r. N z rr., '16 J. YVI LSON KNI GHTON, J. T. S rr cr;:NALL, '17 BrLLING SL I·:A, CARr·:v C. J ARMAN. ' 17 LA w soN, ' 19 ' 18 P re l\Ieclical SA1 vrur·:r, J . L o wE, JR., '20 • IRMLY be.li e ving .in the prin cip le la id clown by ome of th e ancients, and practrcecl 111 va ry mg degrees by succeedrng ages, nam ely, " honor, fir st of all ,' ' th e student body , co-ope ra ting to a certa in deg ree with the Faculty. but re"l ying p rin cipall y on their own resources, has estab li sh ed within its midst a Student Coun cil , th e purpo se of whi ch augu st body is to stimulate interest in those cha racte ri stics whi ch ma ke fo r real cha racte r a nd ul ti mately to weed out a ny a nd a ll st udents who continuall y persist in way wardnes s. Th ough of recent o ri g in, the work of the Co un cil has already had an app reciable effect U~) Oll the ,general cha racte r of th e student body and will , in t he end , root out all th ose ev il that shou ld be, a nd really are, foreign in the make up of a real man . 184 �~np Olnntmittrr CAner J osEPH DE NT H uNCJ~RFOJW, ' 16, Chainnan CAnr.:r J AMJ~S CARLYLJ~ 1\ii:ILLl~R, ' 16, Treasurer CADI~'L' JAMl~S THOMAS DUKJ~, ' 16 JA COB lVlYl~RS PEARCE, , ' 16 HAHRY JosJ~ P I-I SeLBY, ' 16 CADET CAnFT CADET CAner CAm\T CADE'l' CADI\T CADr-:'1' GuY DouGLAs THoMPSON, ' 16 J or-I N WEsLEY NoBu~, '17 GlWRGE NoAH \IVJ\ AVl\R, ' 17 J m -IN :MuRDOCK STORM, ' 17 J osEPH \ !\TILSON KNIGHTON, ' 18 THOMAS R1•: rm HoLMEs, ' 18 186 �••··:.:··••···;:·:. -::: ~...g,.._.r:g4+(4-+-~4·~,........ ....... : : ...: :: =.:·.: •••• ••••• •••• .. 'f . . · -· · ·' '-. . . . : ••·::···• •··:::··. •••• =.-...: • i ....: ··:····:·· ~.. :: ··.. ..... l ••••••• ·«>~+++~-+-t>J:t-+-+-+-~ :::• ..••••••• : ~: :.:: : .. ····:.... '··t wwn Wrars fuatrr I • ; • .M aiden fa ir, Golden hair, Baby small That is all , (• E yes of blue, Crying day and night; .t Red lips too, Come be mine, ~1other t .t • • t 1• c roons As fath er swoons- t I'll be thine . O h, such a fright. i .t t I love you, Y ou Imow I co; l So come to me .lviarri ed life I s a l ways s tT I'f e. r t Live chee rily\Ve'll have s un shin e, Taste lif e's joys, :Ce e ve r fr ee, <t• If you' ll be mine . No be.lls for thee. m~r Jrrsrnt t ~} f · ! ! ! ••• * t • f ~ :.:·: . ..·· ... : :· :·. ... t ~ (>~..,. J, + Stay single, boy s, .········..·······.: :. :: ••··. : ·....: ··.: ····-.:: ·.....· : : ..... ....:·:::.:~..:::.:··::·:!+. ®. tJ! • +·~· ··..····· ...... <t• ........ 188 t• • + "" t t ~ \··· ...•...:··..: ..•• :··.~·: !. .., -+-<€:.,....~<)·~·~·~·~~("'!::· ··.::..·· ·-:::-.... �~ lrr F i r·st 'J'CJl o r s (!Hub F irst Fnr·:D SMITH, ' 18 F . G. 'I' uRNY.: R, ' 18 A. H. NOBLE, '17 p. FI. wIH 'l'l~ , ' 18 W r:,r. \ iVIC'J'ON, JR., '18 \ N. B. T uc K8R, '18 J. W . KNIGHTON, ' 18 Secon d n asses 4 . 191 R. J. w. llas S L"~ CR UM, '17 'I'. SPI C KNALJ4, w. H. PRICJ~ , ' 17 '17 �1\ §opqomorr 1Sat!l j 1 1 1 ~ 1 .1\~DOLIN l CLU.R fmanbolttt (!Jluh 1 J. lRv JN I-IBJSl\, ' 16 Leade1· St>co nd .\ tnndoJin l . ., i•·st 1\Iando lin J. M. J.P. J. N. ' 16 J. I. HEI Sl~, ' 16 J. 0. WARFII~LD, ' 19 PEARCE, ' 19 '18 D ENNIS, MARX, G nitn.r Yiolin \~1 . I-I. I-T ARRI SON, ' 17 J. D. H uNGERFORD, ' 16 T. R. Houn:s, '18 J. W. WATSON, '18 TOJWVSKY, FRAN I< '19 \ 1\1. Er.zr.:v, ' l R 1 1 l \;V e cannot tell what caused it, B u t the Sophs had got th e blues, A t last upon a plan they li t, To nab the Freshies' shoes. Soon each had learned the sec ret, · A nd the pa rt that he wo uld take; A ll were delig hted to be of ser vice, A nd a little fun to make. Silence reig ned at last all ri ght, 11\lhen each had gone to bed ; The Freshi es dreamed of home so bright, The Sophs, of shoes in stead. Stealthy f orm s crept out that night, From a lm ost every door; O ne by one th ey formed a g roup, Of twenty Sophs, or more. A leader rose of unknown na me, The raid ers on ly hope; B un chi ng· them on every side, T hu s vali ent ly, he spo ke : "0 wo r thy Sophs, ye men of iron, To th e F reshmen's room s go ye; Sneak out thei r shoes a nd pitche rs too, A nd thEn to the old Aag tree. Spare not a one, fo r all mu st come, A nd leave not yours in sight ; \!\fake not the weary f rom their sleep, A nd th e rest wi ll be all right. " t, , , fl 'i ' 'ITJi1!l!il"'ii~'''lllf'' " ' ' 1 f' "' ' lW'" ' Iil '1 1 ' 1il 1'1 1' 1 lW1 '" '1ilf' " '"li l' "fl 1l1 !"'1 1 Jnl" ' 'li l' 1 1 '1ilf1 1 ' 1i1 '" ' 1il 1' '1 1il ' '"'li f"' " 'li l'" 'li l'" 192 193 �fllii!l!!l!Ji !! ll!!liJI!i i!li!JDi l!!l ii!JDII!I•Ii!JDil!liliii!JI!!illiii!Jilll ili!JDII I!!iiliiJIII III!liJI!!IIIiliiJIII IIIiliiJIIii!liliiJ III I · ··I•i!l!Jill!lli!l!JII iii!LlliJII I!!IL!IiJill ·. l"ru!lJ!J.r uurllJ!Jrur!(!.IL!Jrl!r!I!.IL!Jtuu!lll!Jruru!!l!rru n!!.!l!J r;ru!!ll!J !rrurt!l!Jrl!r!Jl.!l!J(I!rrr!.!l!Jurr![tli!.!t!,ll!lUIJ.tuU!.!JJI.uuwlll!Jr !liJ!n!!!t!I!Jr nluliJ!J uu!l. l! 1 1 1 1 j 1 1 1 '4 i\ ~opqomon i!\at.b--ffiont. And when he spoke, th e· party broke, A nd sil ent as a mole, Each shoe and slipper, soc k and pitcher, H untecl the old flag pole. Singly, in pairs and group s of three, The shoes began their climb, Each weary , yet fearing too, Lest it be left behind. A las, 'ti s sad to write it hereNo less the fact is trueThe boys whose voice th e Pro f. had heard, vVe re caused to carry a shoe, To cl ass, to meals. and even down town, vVhereve r th ey chose to go, The shoe, bespeaking bad condu ct, vVere ever compell ed to show. \ N ith g igg ling voices and s il ent step, They started for their roo m, Not know in g w hat for th em was left, Nor thinking of th eir doom. Th e Prof. who on that day was sick, That ni g[lt was far from dead ; Va.g uely thinking he hea rd a row, Got up from off hi s bed. Detective like, he p laced him self , U p in a co rn e r clark ; From th ere h e'd watch hi s prey come on, A nd th en on him, emba rk. The boys ca me on and on too fa st, A nd sc urrying 'round that co rner, B umped into him an d mad e a fu ss, A nd spil t the sly refo rm er. A t thi s th ey snigge red and laughed aloud, And thu s di sclosed the ir voice. V/ hi ch fact th e Prof. took . in to note, A nd in it did rejoi ce. 194 195 �1Jokr.s--<!rottt. Nob le, J. \ lll. ( in Latin )-"Professor, .did the Romans spea k Lat in ?' ' " Jack"-''V\T hy- (ahem) certa inly, Mr. Noble." L ieut. 1\.fcNeil ( in tact ics)-'' \iVhere's :\l r. l\[i ll e r ?" Weaver (consp icuously)-'' \i\Thy, he's in the chapel, oratating (orating ) ... Prof. Vladde ll ( in Trig.)-''Why, it looks as though you all never saw thi s lesson befo. Looks like something sp ick, span a nd new ancl we've bee n dingclanging at it a whole week." Jacques (at drill ) -"Column. fo r wa rd, MARCH. '' Prof. ( in P hysics Class)-''Isn 't there a planet enci rcl ed by a ring of rambow co lors ?" Price- " Yo u mean a barbershop pole. " vVi lson, T . N .-"I haven't the cheek to ki ss you. " Sb e-"Use min e." (Su ch non sense is p ainful. ) Contrast-He who knows not and knows not that he knows not, is a ve rdant Fresh man. Pity him . He who knows not and kn o<c•s that he knows not, is a g rave old Senior. Re spect him . "l\llose" S tat1ford, " clown and out" so mewhe re in vVashington, w ithout giv ing his place of soj ourn, writes to hi s wife, " J ohnn y,'' as follow s : "Dear Wife :- Get the dollar f rom my tro use r's pocket and send it to me immed iately. H umbl y. :\lose." ·'Johnn y" replied as fo llows: " D ear Hubby :- Se nd me your add ress and the doll a r will be forth co ming. A n affectionate wif e, Johnny.'' R. 0. Jones (in the parlor of a fair one)-" I gave up smoking fo r yo u. D ear. what have you given up for me?" She-" Seven ni ce yo ung gentlemen ... J ohn Nobl e ( in doctor's office)-" Well, Doc, th at bottle of tonic has gr0\\'!1 me no new hair. vVhat would you ad vise me to do now?" Doctor (scrat ching hi s head )-"vVell-er- in your case, I would suggest a little bone fe rtili zer." told the shy maid of hi s love, The color left h er ch eek s, B ut on the should er of hi s coat It showed fo r seve ral weeks. J-[e :M u ings of a F reshm an y repa rin a fo r Latin Exam .A ll the people di ed who spoke it; A ll the people died who wrote it: AJI the people di e who learn it, Blessed death! they surely earn it." 196 LATE AGAIN 197 �]nlt.r£1--C!Innt. Prof. White (in Latin II ) - " Ni r. Selby, what kind of ships do . they have clog watches on?" Selby-"Why, barks, of course, Professor." Prof. Mittendorf (in Physics) -''In the Gulf of Mexico, we used to shoot the sun daily ancl"Bowers ( interruptin.g)-"P rofe ssor, did you use a Krupp gun?" Li eut. Hyde (at drill )- "Right dress. HALT." Adj. Hartsock ( at dress paracle)-" Attention to orders-Officer of the Day, Corporal- ( confused) Officer of- Noncomm issioned-Detail- ( furt her co nfused ) Noncommissioned Officer of the Day Stromeyer"- ( Finally does about face and resumes ceremonies). l\hjor Mackenzie (at supper) - " Dance in Gym. tonight, fifty cents a pair." Prof. Gladden (i n Geometry)-"Now follow your figures carefully." Smith, N.-" In other words, you mean go chase yourself." ''Sam" Freeny (translating German)-"And this is Fritz K leinmichal, th e bride of my daughter. " Dr. Schumacher-" Pat, do you expect to pass Ge rman ?" Pat ( with dignity )-"Sure and I have already passed it. I passed the sauer kra ut to Heine." L ieut . :M cNeil-"Mr. Stromeyer, define a cossack post ?" .. Bell' '- .. Lieutenant, I don't know much about architecture." Prof. Waddell ( in A nalyti cs Class) - " Mr. De Vries (who was working problem at boa rd ), why don 't you go on?" De Vries-"S ir, I stopped." Prof . -" Who stopped you?" De Vries-" I stopped myself. " Prof.-" Goodness me, wh y are you so automatic?" "Wi lli e" Harrison (coming to baseball game in seventh inning)-"Well , I didn't miss much. The sco re is 0-0." "Mose"- John, have you any attractions in Boonsboro ?" " Johnnie"-"Yes, when I'm there." " Pri s" Maddox (noticir11g a porter Negroes cou ld be marine s." 111 Camde n Station) -"I didn 't know "Sa m" F reeny ( in Logic Class)-"A llm anuals ( mammal s) are vertebrates." 198 �Jl1t ~igma il(appa lJ1 ratrrntty il(appa l\lp4a 1J1ratrrntty mrmbrrll Ha rvy J a mes A ndrew James Hamilton B1 ·ashears Lea A lvin Da rl ey George Dav idson John Fell John Irvin Heise C. Carey Jarman T homas Vvatkins Ligon Geo rge Noah Weave r Robert Hob litzell Maddox John Wes ley Noble Jacob Myers Pearce Guy Douglass T hompson 1firtttrr11 in lfiarultatr D r. Thomas Fell , Ph. D., LL. D. lfiratrrll in lllrbr John N icodemu s Wi lson Edga1· Treml ett Fell John Bloodwood Well s m. ill. 1£. Eugene Iglehardt John Green Joseph Cassin Youn,g John Ernest Reinbu rg, Jr. A rthur de T halma Valk Jlrbgr!l ftltrmbrr11 Richard Daniel Cole P urnell Denni s Edwa rd Otis Gardner J. Thomas Reed Holm es F rede rick Bruce Smi th Warden E lmer Mack William Be nnett Tucker Stanley Wi lli am Matth ews Richard P . Win slow J ohn Meredith Pearce 200 \"'i lli am Fran klin Stromeyer James T homas D uke Harry J oseph Selby Robert Otis Jones Joseph \i\' heeler McComas Dunlevy Courtney Downs Hi ram Franklin P lumm et· Sam uel Wesley Freeny John M urdock Storm A rthu r Brenner Jacques N ichola s Dodge vVoodward Gab ri el T hornton :M cKenzie Henry La u renson Dashiell Stanfo rd W illiam S. De V ri es Wi lson Upshur Ma rtin Samuel J . Lowe F ulton Go ldsbo rough T urn er James Russell Cook Josef Robert S heetz Joseph Wilson Knighton T homas No rwood Wilson James Ogle Warfield 201 �iliiiiiiiiiiiiOIIIIIIIIIIII[liiiiiiiiiiii[CI lllllllllllll[lllllllllllll[lllllllllllll[liiiiiiiiiiii[Olllllllllllll[lllllllllllll[lllllllllllll[i N~w I ~ar'n 1Rrnoluttottn of JJutttorn Resolved : Burgess-Neve r to mi ss a dance.' Cox- Neve r to be Ed itor-in-Chi ef of The Rat-Tat agai n. Crum-Neve r to make a di sco rd. Curfman-Not t o be propo se d to, durin g th e ensuin g yea r. Fell- To s top grafting on the n ewspapers. Freeny- To stop b luffing illn ess in athl eti cs. Harrison-To b e a man . Jarman- To talk a t leas t tw ice a day. Maddox-To raffi e off on ly one box of paper a week. Miller- T o co me off th e s ick li st. Noble, A. H.-To s pare "J ack '' a ll su ffer in g. Noble, J. W.- T o ask no m ore foo li s h qu es ti on s. Price- To remain a bach elor for ev er. Spicknall-To lead a better 1if e. Stanford-To be a se cond Dem os thcnes. Storm-To lo ve th e ladies mor e and m ore. Von Schwerdtner-To lay off b eer and pretzels. W oodward- To take off s upe rAuous weight. Talton- T o g et a mo ve on . McComas- To re turn t o school on tim e. 111111111111111111111111 ~qr 1J1ltrtrll The ma iden s m iled and gave a wink, S h e flirt ed w ith the boy: \ Vhose h ea rt b ea t faste r than yo u t hink, \ 1\f ith ove r wh elm ing j oy . . Sh e led him o n, h e followed h e r, Go d ! it was pa radise ; H e longed to always linger nea rNo more he'd use hi s dice. ~= : ~ ~ I-:Te would reform and be a man ; He'd ask hi s pa rents could he T ak e in hi s lif e th is girl for wife, A nd to he m ar pale a A las, the ladr grewri ed be. nd sick, H is hea rt, oh, it was so re ; For to thi s li fe he could not st ick'I' be n1 aid had ft i rted n1ore. --:;= : ~= § 6liiiiiiiiiiiiCIIIIIIIIIIII[liiiiiiiiiiii[Olllllllllllll[lllllllllllllrliiiiiiiiiiii[]IIIIIIIIIIII[Q]IIIIIIIIIIIICliiiiiiiiiiiiCIIIIIIIIIIII[~ 202 �Jqtlomutqrun 1£itrrury §orirty Jqtloltultun 1£Urrury §ririrty L11~u T. FACULTY ADVISERS PnoF. H. F. S·ru uDv C. S. :McNEILL Faculty P rof. S. S. Handy ®ffinr.s ~rmbrr.s Cole, R. D . Cook, J. R. Cox, M.A. Cunningham , R. Crum, R . '0/ . Darley, L. A. Den ni s, J. P. DeVries, W. S. Dryden, D. E. Duke, J. T. Hartsock, C. L. Holm es, T. R. Holden, F. A. Jacques, A. B. Jones, R . 0. Lawson, L . W. Mackenzie, G. T. Mac k, W . E. M iller, R. W. Moo re, G. C. Noble, J . W. No rtham, T. A. Pea rce, J . M. Price, W. H . Polk, E. B. Q ue veda Sheetz, J . R. Somer vi lle, J.* Stanford, H. L. D. Talton, I. B. T ucke r, vVm. B. Traye r, K. M. Turner, F. G. Watson, J. W. Wilson, T . N. Woodwa rd, N.D. L. T. MILES . . .. . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ... .. . ... .. . .... . Presiden t R. H. MADDOX .... .. .......... ... .. . .. .. .... . Vice -President J. \ N. KNIGHTO N . . . . . . . . . . ... ... ... . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . Secretary Vv' . R. CuRFMAN . . . . . .. ... .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . ... .. Treas7tre r C. C. NATHAN . . .. ........... . ... . ....... . Sergeant-at-Arms Hungerford, J .D . r\ndrew, I-1. J. ·M ill er, J. C. Hyde, F. W. Vo n Schwe rdtner, E. 0. Brashears, J. H. P lummer , H . F. Bielaski, F. L. Fe ll , J. Gardner, E. 0. Noble, A. H. Sheppard , A. 1\'I. Maddox, W. J. Harrison. \IV . H . Wigton, W. Bourke, T. E. Walbeck, J. l\I. l\!Iencke, H . L. 205 204 Magruder, R. B. Sleight, L. L. Go in gs, J . S. Bee r, E. H. Jewell , J. P. Jon es, H. D. Warfield, 0. G. Eareckson, E . 0. Winsl ow, R. D . �l e n cln r APRIL 7-Mo st all the students return except "Jew" and " Fats " Weaver, who take a prolonged vacation. 8 -Two hours' drill starts; everybody sorry but the members of the band. 9-No dress parade but nice little two-mile hike into the country . 10-"P rofs . Gra y" and "Sturdy " have an argument as to which can report most offenses; " Gray " wins. 11-Johnnie Storm wants to know why "Adolph" wears watch pocket on side instead of in front. 12-"Grey" tells the Chemist ry I Class that they are abusing the use of cuts , using them when they don't know their lessons instead of while on sick report . 13-" Kraig" Kennedy , 0. C . "Not a creature was moving , not even a mous :)." 14-"Dick" Miller makes love to " Johnnie" Storm, and receives a sl a p on t :1e wrist. 15-"Dick" Miller persists and gets slapped on the other wrist. 16-"Ciutching hand " starts work on 4th floor Pinkney, "Oh, I thought I (llollrgtnn 78onr:b would die." 17-"Dingbat" on 0 . D. R. Ons JoNEs. ' 16 . . ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . Editor-in-Chief Fm~n L . BmLAS l< l, '16 . ... . ... Assistant Ed itor-in-Chief 18-" Shorty" Curfman goes out for Baseball. plate." Athletic Editor VVTLLIAM F. S TRO~'l i ~ Y I · : R, " H e'd make a good home 19-"Ty Cobb " sends Georg e Hawk i ns out of English and soaks him for disrespect. ' 16 20- "Pansy" t e ll ::; A do lph some Fr e n ch and German . Associate Editors 21-English sink a German boat; result: No German II Class . A R'rn u R B. J AcQ ues. ' 16 L u 'I'I-n :R T . My God , what ne x t! .. l\1ru~s . ' 16 JmT N l\I u1 nc K STo1nr . ' 17 m 22-B Company wins competitive drill; "Sleuth" Cassard shows that it is not necessary to have brains in order to be a commander. 23-Camped on R ear Campus, everybody wakes at 4 A . M . Some not at all. Business 1 a nagers 11 J. -,- .:.IA CKI~K ZII·:. '1 6 C . .:.IrLHR , '16 C. T . " 206 24- " Whisk ers" soaked , no bi b at supper formation . 2 5-Some mysterious hike of Class ' 17. Who cut " Dick " Bu r gess' h air ? �*-+-7!~;~;:~~;:~:~:~:f+;;~:~;~:~· *.3:{ . ~{E+7'K--+7:f+7l~~~ +7!~~lf+7f~!~}E+;:~~~:~-+7:~-+-7:E-+7'iE • t J t' I I 26-"Matty" tells the fellows how they should have the old St. John's Spirit, "as if" ( ?) 27-Preparat ion for inspection , "Jew" Miller actually sweeps his room. ~~ 28-lnspection Day ; " Sleepy" gives the battalion a drum solo, while "Hop Plummer" leads. 29-l n sp ection continues. " Sleuth " wins the sab r e. count r y . The band shows much strategy. J : ~+: J~ J~ t~ Nic e hike into the 30-John Storm 'brings chicke n to the hop . St. John 's and Martha Wash i ng ton t ake a motor boat ride up the Severn . l l 7f ~t.:: 1 MAY , ,' ;+ 1-Baseball, St, John 's, 1'7; Western Maryland , 5 ; De nt Hungerford at a private dance makes a high dive to the floor. ,r, t' 2-Senior straw hat parade, "Matty," " Sy Selby" and " Ritchie" are the ga y '+~ '" l' f 3-Fifteen's Rat-Tats come out ; no drill for a week ; Shorty comes across . ~E 4-Washington and Lee, 6 ; St. John 's , 4 ; Battle Royal between Room 24-25 Pinkney. Slop buckets as weapons. Result, Room 25 surrenders. 1 I '1 >i ' ~f J~ J: 3-.E 7 tE ,••t / birds. 7" +' 5-"Jack" tells the Latin I students that he believes that some of them use a pony, so he thinks it " peculiarly app ropriate" that the owners let him ke ep them for the rest of the year. • ~:~ 1 J~ .• , l t: 7tE ~< ;,; £ :~ 6-Somebody dumped Wa c hter at 10.00 P . M. "Jack" tries to catch the crimi·nal. 7- Tennis, S. J . C., 6 ; M. A. C., 0. blows. ' 'Shorty" Curfman and Demarco come to 8-Baseball , S . J. C., 4; M. A. C., 3. " Stanford " gets a new nickname " Mose." 9-" Dick" Burgess swipes a canoe and upsets. " Spick" take hike to Mitchellsville. " Crum ," "Hop," "Bill " and 10- " Heine " Bowers thinks he 's some Mathematician , .50 in Math . II. -- ~ 11-" Jew" Miller soaks cadet B. H. Waters for coll a r turn e d up . 12-Many e x pect to go to the range, so don 't study. classes. * 13-"Hein e" swipes Wallbeck 's eats at the range . ~ I >< ~t~ f 7 '>i ~~ £ 'f' ~:; ~ ;t ;T E ,t ~t~ J m 1 ,], :+: :f J ~; ~f: ;-f' J~ 7•-:: ,T, :.: , ~ ,r., :l ~ All get 0 in th e ir " Shorty" makes him apologize. 14-Fi rst day at range , No. 7 target popular. shooter and by straight work , too ? MacK e nz ie makes a sharp- 15-Hopkins, 5 ; S. J . C., 9. " Dingbat" shows his military ability (?????) and presents th e Battalion at Supper formation . ;t': ~ :iJ,'·. f ~.~ " Ir.~ ~·, ~ 't,' ~£ J }: -- 1 T . ;:~ **"*E+~l'E-+-7:E-+3!~~3~-+-;:E-+- 'lE-+-~·: :• ;:~ +7l~-+-7!-E-+;{7+-3!~-+-1~7:E-+7:f+;~·~ •;:~:~• +7lE-+7.E+*-+~f+7!f+7l~+A~~E+?!E+*-+¥-+ ·~ �~:~:~:~:~~~ 1:~:~~!~!f+7 -+1:~E· ~~~~·7:f+;{~+7!~+ ?!~-4r7~~7~• ·**"~ 1:E+-7'~-+7~:~-+-1!f+~E+;::..'!< 4 ," t * 1 "t /,, ~, ,, ~, ;, l t ~ ST. JOHN'S J~ ~t 1 I COLLEGE ~+: • 1 I i 1 'f ' f l ¥ r6g6 ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND lf rgr6 1 ~ I I ~ ~ ~ w I J i l J ~+: Department of Arts and Sci~nces of the ~ University of Maryland l Special advantages for students proposing to study Law or Medicine ~ 'f Spacious campus, gymnasium and drill grounds '-£ ;£ t t ~ '!'.~ I I ~ 1 ~f ~ f ~ : t '~ ~f t J: 1 "'< J ,: -- :~ Military Department under directions of Army Officer. Ad,.oining the United States Naval Academy. Also a Sub-Freshman Class to prepare for entrance to College. Terms $300. o« ~~ -~- n , ~ ~ 1 ;•' For Cata log ue A ddress th.e R egistrar 1 - f ~ f f I ~ '" ~ Session begins Sept. 16 '+' 1 l f l ~ J< . r r~ ·+7!~•-;:~ • ;::~:~;:~7lE•-~~!E+ 7!E+-7!E-+-;!~7:~~I~!E+7't:-+;.!E+-1:~-+7!~~~~~lE~~~!f+7:~:E+7!~~f+-~~· �~:f+-~:~+;:~-+-;:~~:~:~:E+;:~:~·~:~-+-7:E+3:E-+-~:~• *•·~*+7~!E+7~+7:~:~E-+~:~-+7~~~+7~-+-7'~-+-1~-+7:E....;-:~ •-7:E+?:~ ~ ~ :+: }' illalrn!lar, (!Lout. .t '" .t I,, ; :.t J~ ~ ;t" 16-No church, rain. "Pris" orders Sweitzer sandwich, and then says to the waiter, "you ' d better make it cheese." f + 17-Third floor Pinkney goes on Sick List. 18-"C r um " tries to play the organ . '{ Bentztown Bard gives a witty speech. · 19-"Fats" Weaver takes another· shave. What kind of hair tonic does he 21-"Johnnie" Storm gets 5. on history test. i~{ 22-St. John's College , 0; Washington, 1; robbery . ~{ 23-"Sturdy" on 0 . C. everybody gets soaked. J : 24-"Scarborough " finds that t:1is is no place to act like a baby. l 25-"Crum" 1 ~+: 1 r .,, t' '+ '~~ 1 ,, ~ 7 1 gives ~t~ '+' ~ >t' < ~ '+ ( ~ ;f recital in chapel. "Jack" thinks f >~ 1 ~+.: it peculiarly . 26-Band practices to see how well (?) they shall play when "Dingbat" is f ~+: '.+.~· 27-The members of the band give Price a serenade on No.1 . 28-Band plays well for the last time, "Dingbat' has a class at drill period. 29-M. A. C., 1; S. J . C ., 5. ;f.' :+.: captain. President Wilson attends game. 30-"Shorty" inspects back campus at 10 P. M . ; I wonder what he found? f 7+~ ;~,: ~ * i ~{ 31-"Shorty" comes across; no drill. t J J organ appropriate. 1 J f ~~ ~.~ 2J-"Whiskers" soaked,· late placing his bib breakfast formation. I -" f ' ~ use? ~ t .; ,t "' c t 1 , ;+,' ~- -~, .~- ;f' f f JUNE Seniors get diplomas 'f' '2-John Noble shows his authority by handing in a report each day since he 'J.' 1-"Kraig" gives a preliminary exarry . in Chemistry I. at U. of M . '{ ~f~ was raised from the rank of a d - - private. 3-"Johnnie" mops up the flooded section of fourth floor Pinkney. 4- " • Sh mak,,e a good janito.r . 'F '' d orty gtves a musrca 1 rectta 1. ' ats An rews, the Nelson and Pearce the chief music (?) makers. :+.: He'd ~ . leader, with '+' ;f l' 5-"Mose" advertises Sea Foam on the Boulevard . 6-Shoe battle in Pinkney Hall; Ridgely discovers the cui prits, quently "Shorty" delivers a lecture. ~f 7 conse . f< ?-Nicodemus goes out to see his future wife . ¥ '+ ' '•' 8-"Sam " Freeny starts to commit suicide . ;f~ · J 9-Jacob, the Jewish Jock ey, jovially juggled Julie ' s joker. ,t His letter doesn't arrive . t J ~ ~l.f-+.;.l~7!~:~~lE-+7lE-+7:-E+;:~:f+7:~;:E+;:f+?!~ -+3-l~-+;:~- +-;:~: : ~ ~: ~ o;::v-~:~....;:~ J I I 1 >;:: <> ;;~ ~ ;:~ () ;:~ ¢-; :~+;: ~ .-;:~..-;:~-...;:~..;:~-+-7:~-+~:~-+-;:~ �. ..;lf+-7!~l~}E+~~'*~~**-+*+-3l~:f-+-*+-~-+7~~ ~'K • )i( • >K • ~ t I *• * I ;~ .;:~.;:~:~E-+*+;-'it-+~E • * t t J: UNIVERSITY OF MARYLAND ! l School of Medicine and College of Physicians and Surgeons 1 I lE I ¥ 1 }~ I /,, ~-, tE * :f '•• f' 'l' 1 E ._J~ ,' i :t . ?.E /, r.< · · ;1~ * ~~ :J~ T. :t: ;,~ 1E ;I {~ :r ::;-,, ~: • ~-~ ;r. /" + > '' '+ ' 7f f' >< .,.l " J, J: 'l' ~: :r l< •.E ~t ¥ t ~ FACULTY OF PHYSIC RANDOLPH WINSLOW, A.M., M.D., LL.D., Professor of Surgery. L. E. NEALE, M.D., LL.D., Professor of Obstetrics. CHARLES W. MITCHELL, A .M., M. D. , Professor of Pediatrics and Clinical Medicin e. THos. A. ASHBY, M.D., LL.D., Professor of Diseases of Women. J. HOLMES SMITH, M. D., Professor of Anatomy. JoHN C. HEMMETER. M.D., PH.D ., Sc.D., LL.D., Professor of Physiology and Clinical Medicine. ARTHUR M. SHIPLEY, M.D. , Professor of Surgical Pathology. SAMUEL K. MERRiCK, M. D. , Professor of Diseases of the Throat and Nose. RIDGELY B. WARFIELD, M. D., Professor of Practice of Surgery. GoRDON WILSON, M.D ., Professor of Principles of Medicine . WILLIAM SIMON, PH. D., M.D., Sc.D ., Professor of Chemistry. JOHN W. CHAMBERS, M.D. , Sc.D., Professor of Surgery. WILLIAM F. LOCKWOOD, M. D., Professor of Medicine. GEORGE W. DOBBIN, A. 8., M.D., Professor of Obstetrics and Gynecology. WILLIAM ROYAL STOKES, M.D., Sc.D., Professor of Pathology and Bacteriology. HARRY FRIEDENWALD, A. B., M. D., Professor of Ophthalmology and Otology. ARCHIBALD C. HARRISON, M. D., Professor of Surgery. CARY B. GAMBLE, JR., A. M., M.D., Professor of Clinical Medicine. WILLIAM S. GARDNER, M.D., Professor of Gynecology. STANDISH McCLEARY, M.D., Professor of Pathology. JuLIUS FRIEDENWALD, A.M., M.D., Professor of Gastro-Enterology. J. M. H. ROWLAND, M.D., Professor of Clinical Obstetrics. St. John's College, Annapolis, Md .. f ounded in 1696, is by contract of affiliation styled and recog nized as the department of A rts and Sciences of th e Uni versity of Maryland. Students who have completed the Junior Year in St. John's Colleg e and who have mad e an approved choice of elec tives. may if they desire it, do the entire work of the Senior Year in the Medical School of the University. If they successfuiJy complete the work of the first medical year they are g raduated with their class with th e degree of A . B. from St. John' s CoiJege. By taking advantage of this privilege a man may complete the Undergraduate and Medical courses in . these years, or until he has completed the work of the Junior Class, he is a resident student in St. John 's College, and for fou r years h e is a resident in the Medical School in Baltimore. At the en d of th e fourth year h e receives the A. B. degree, and at the end of the seventh year the M.D. degree, bhutCcred it infthL bMed ical School car;tnot be accepted in su bject s for w hich credit has already e been given in t e o 11 ege o i era1 Arts. The One Hundred and Tenth Annual Session will begin on October l r }: ''.f ;l >Y< /""t > lv :f J 7 tE :t: J ~f '+' * > t ,t ;~ l+ ~ ~>v ,. · + COMBINED COURSE IN ARTS AND MEDICINE -~three of During ! I, 1916 * t ~!< • 7!£E 7j I ~ l ";.~ ..., ... ~ f / ~ For catalogue and information address T W. F. LOCKWOOD, M. D., Dean, or CALEB WINSLOW, M. A., Registrar l 7 ! .T ./ N . E . Comer Greene and Lombard Streets, BALTIMORE, MD. f ~ -+7~~'1E+-7lE~·*·~*-+***7!~:E+7~:f+-7~:E-+7~:E+**7.~ ~:~·;:~·7:f+-7:~~E+-7:~:~· / 1 : ~, / :l ~: , l . £ i t 71-:: '" ©®!lilll!lilll~llil.~®!lilll<em\t lrmwii.U:&illi®ms;; l!:l>&ll\l©® l!"!Nl>@ll'&lliJil!;l J: ~ t £ I t ~ ~ ' I' :f ~it&it!l®m®l:<'y J!:l>lil!lJ!l®!!!ID~ ~®llil\llis;; W®&ll' !lll©©ll'!: J.o®®\'lllil®ll' ~@\lliW®llil.fill'El ~©Wtmll\l:il.®s;; 'ili/7®\dl®l!lllil.@ lrlPJ.WM&·J:)'l©llil.~ ©illil!lft!lll~ !Ims;;®ll"~~ ~'" 7 } ':f'E l ©&l!'@s;; I ~ @dffifffffi~!lil ~ ~©y@l ©©lliilllrJ~ITO.~ ~+: I t llitfi~llu @rr~vru~ .~©rru® If\~rrlJ:fillfi~~rr~ l.r®lfi!iillll~~ll' lr!lil.@ll'®®lll®!lil.'ll:~ ;~ • I ~: JE MANUFACTURERS OF AND IMPORTERS OF f <l:Dili!tl©®~ 1$, 'fl, ® 21©11llU:lh :iltl&Ril:!i!J'l!ll@l!'®, ®mw 1!3\1:, ~ttl, ~ .~ '~£ I i ~ t ;ij~ -+-?:~...;:~-+-;!-E+~~:E+;:~:~H-:~:~-+-7:~:~:~:f+-;:~ ~!~+7:~;:~...;:~:~:~ • *-+1:~-+7:~·~:~:~:~:f+-;{f+-7!f+;:~~::E-+-;:f •:-:~• �;:~ ~:!-+-;:~...;:f+-7:~·~:~+;:~~:~7:~•-;:~-+-?-:~~:~:~ 7:~~:E-+-1!E.;!E-+-7!~:~-+-?-:E•7l~-+ -+~:~:~-..;:~-+-7:~-.;:~-;:~-+-7:~•·7!~ +-~:~...;:~+;:~-+-;,;~ • ;:~ ~ 1 t 1 '+~ 10-Exa m s. over at last. -,1' t' :: 11-"Prl· s" 1 '.I.: ' ~ 12-Cox washes his face th ree times before breakfast. r {< 13-" Dick " Burgess takes his usual 7 7:.E 14-Hot as {E 15-Everybody primps up and paints up in order to make a hit with his 7 .,. r '"' 7~E '+ ' Everybody happy. raffles off a box of cigarettes, his usual 10 o'clock occupat ion. "Pris" is a regular Raffles . P M . stroll . , Coca-Cola popular. iE ~' on th e back campus. Even " Dope " Waters indulges. best girl at the dance . ~: 17-Commencement day . r :: t " Bumps " Gladden gets about 15 prizes. " Pop ' · f , 7 ,, ,, /ft' 7 1' I ~t: 1 "Hey Everybody happy. McNeil , want a 17-"Shorty" Curfman takes a shave. Weaver, ~i~ J Some bunch of Freshmen. screw driver" (holding hand s in poe kets ). 18-Noble, f~ tf·; SEPTEMBER 15-School opens again. 16-Cook: 7 T. awards them . ; , /< ~fE '-+ E 4 16-June ball , everybody brings his best girl. J :J Jarman , Maddox "Johnnie" Storm J 'f' (Starting out good .) and 'f' attend the J ,., 7 f Gayety. 19-No church ; Freshmen think this is a pike. >'f :t y 20-Freshman drill for first time ; my what a bunch of Rookies ! ~ 21-Lieutenant McNeil gives Sophs a talking to; Maddox scared green. :£ ,';", 22-Bicycle race on Junior floor. ~ J 23-"Shorty" Cu r fman trie s to commit suicide by wearing a tight collar. 7 { 24--Dance in gymnasium for benefit of grandstand (amount raised , $1). I "Fats" Andrew wins. I -- 25-"Dingbat " breaks up his racquet, since he was beaten in tennis . :+: ;f' 26-MacKenzie fools us all by having no roll call at church formation. + ' 7 '.:E J + ' 7 27-Sieight : " Sir, I am here at your request." Lieutenant McNeil: " Request, thunder, I orde r ed you . 28--McComas at drill ; squad forward , March ; order arms. * ' l~ 30--Good football practice ; mass-meeting in chapel. r 7£ S ELF-FILLll\G, SAFETY and REGUL AR TYPES AT YOUR NEAREST DEALERS L. E. WATERMAN CO., 173 Broadway, N.Y. f , 1: 7 ,T I,~ OCTOBER 3-Nobody goes to church except a f ew from ~ " f 7 I 1 /f +. 7: ~: f Waterman's Ideal will last until you lose it. Will do a~l your writing, on any k ind of paper, anywhere, anyt1me, without blotting or missing. It is "some" pen. Points to suit every hand. 'f * ; ,, 1 ¥ a~othcr f'ac l ,~ 1 1-Rain , first day of month; "Sleepy" gets locked in closet for half hour. J t than '•' 29-" Mose " starts sick report on Junior floor . 1 * 2- " Louie" Miles goes to first breakfast formation. s enior fl cor an d some mee~c Freshies. 4--"Sieepy" threatens to soak Junior floor for disorder. I + '.!.' " >k Result, (?) • 3-~ f ~ ~:-:~ +-?-:~...;:~;:~+-~:~:~ ..;:E-+-;:E-+-~:~+7:~:~+-?-!7++7~~~~~-+-7t~-+-~:-: + ;:~...;;,~:f-+-;:~+;:~-+-;:~-+-?-:~;:~....;:~:~-+7l~-+ 7!E~ ~~THE PRIDE STORE" �~~~E-+3~~:~~!f+7J>E+7l~E+*+-7l~~**7K~~~~K • )K • )K • ;:E • ~E~~ t ~ l 1 ¥ ,l /f ':.l:: ~ l'' ' :£ f ~ ,._ ~ I ~ t I l r ~ HON. HENRY D. HARLAN, Dean EDWIN T. DICKERSON, Sec. and Treos. £ ,6 Former Chief judge, Supreme Bench of B altimo re City 102-5 L aw Building, Baltimore, Md. '±' IDQr lliuw @lrQool t .~ l OF THE ~~ "' lllnturrnity of ilarylan·ll LOMBARD & GREENE STS. ,T. , BALTIMORE, MD. A DAY SCHOOL and a NIGHT SCHOOL, with same Faculty, course of instruction and requirements in each I l 7 the-~~·-,~ For. Catalogue, address EDWIN T. DICKERSON, Secretary, t 7 102-5 LAw BUILDiNG, BALTIMORE, MD. 'l' ~E ~c: l :t '+ :£ WJITL!fiW®lf~fi~:J ®if m~~)'Yll&rru@ !, DENTAL DEPARTMENT f . .. '! * t l :£ '+ * f :£ 'i £ 7~ ,t '1' :J, :£ ~ ~t . ' I' The regular Winter Session begins on October lst of each year, and continues until the following May. , The Annual Catalogue contains Course of Study, Terms, etc. Attendance upon three r egular Winter Sessions will be re«J:Uired before the final examinations for the degree of Doctor of Dental Surgery. Graduates of Medicine and those who have attended one or more previous sessions at a reputable dental school, admitted to higher grades. The requirements for admission are the same as in all other reputable dental colleges. FE E S : Matriculation (paid once only) ..... .... .. $ 5.00 Tuition Fee .......... ... ... ........ . . ... .. .... .. 150.00 Diploma Fee..... .. .. . .... . ....... . ... ...... . . .... 30.00 Dissecting Fee (paid once only).. ....... .. 10.00 For information and Annual Catalogue, Address T. 0. HEATWOLE, M.D., D.D.S., Dean BALTIMORE, MD. . ' "" f . I l' 7,E t l~ I l~ 7~ t ~: J, '+.' ~: t-, ·~ ~: - I ~~..t.~~~~'IE+*+-'%~~f+ ;!~ • ~l'E • ~~k+7!E+ ~l~ • ~!~• ~l~ • 3~:E+7~~~~!E+-~!~l~E+-7!E+ �. ;:-:-ct ~ ;~ ··~:-•;::+-~!7+ ~:~~:7+-~:~:~:~:~;::.•;:~ + -+7!~:~:-f+-7:~:7+7:~;:~....;.:: ·• 7::.......;:~...;:~:~..;:~:~•;:~:~+7l~•.;:~·•;:E-+-*-+ ~~ ~ t ¥ t r J: 5-"Sieepy" goes in bath tub and gets soaked . 7 +E t~ 6-"Shorty" makes " Shorty" C. knock on "Dope" Waters' door for about 10 minutes. J £ ?-Birthday feed given on Junior floor by "Mose" and "Snooks." stuff than we can eat for once. :+: :f · l: ;t~ 8-Jacques has a birthday. More "Slat" works overtime. t. -,- 9-Franklin and Marshall, 48; St. John ' s, 0 ; tough luck. .• , 10-"Snooks" gets moved out; what became of his bed? £ * * J~ l '~ :r -- ,. l+ '' t * • 11-Mass-meeting in chapel. * 12-"Dope" Waters goes to breakfast. :+: 'f 13-"Kraig" takes up three inspections within 45 minutes. 14-Carey Jarman cleans up on the world's series. . It f 7 £>~ "Dutch ·' gives us a talk. M , ' '" 4~: 15-Rain, Rain , Rain and then more Rain, but dr i ll just the same. ~t 16-No game, team goes up to see Hopkins beat Western Maryland . ,t 17-"Sturdy" (taking up church inspection) : I 18-"Dent" loses his childish manners and becomes a man. ~ "So you ' re in here." ,1, Jarman (jumping out of closet): . "I report off leave, sir." :£ f l ~f 19-"Dope" Waters goes to chapel. l M ~ , ' 20-Juniors get lights after taps removed. ~f· ~ J 21-"Shorty" Curfman takes another bath. ~ .:-E . l< t J; f 22-Big crap game on; "Eggers" cleans up. f >'1. 23-Gettysburg, 18; S. J . C ., 0. 7lE · :~ 24-"Sieepy" wants to know why the hotels on the way to Gettysburg don't have combs and brushes. '+ 'l" 25-lt is discovered that "Fats" Weaver owns five razors, for which he has no use. Santa Claus must of have thought he was a man. * :t: 27-Cox gives Seniors orders about write-ups. ;fE 28~"Shorty" Curfman uses '' "Sieepy's" hair brush to polish his shoes. :£ ~ T t 26-Wilson: "Now in this play I want the fastest man back. " 29-"Bandy" Fields carries bass drum at dress parade; "Shorty" envies him. 30-M . A. C., 24; St. John's, 14. Everybody broke. 31-"Fats" Weaver makes a motion that everybody die, as they are already in the hole . . NOVEMBER 1-"Johnnie" Storm in love with a chorus girl he saw at a certain theatre in Washington . 2-"Mose" Stanford forgets to go on sick report. 7 ~ ~ I: I l * f l ~ 1 t '+ '~ "' ~t l ;:~ J ~ f �~~~:~~~~~~~~~~;!~~ •=-1~ -·~:~·+-7:~...;:~:E-+7:~-+7:~ +-;~~~~·7:~ •*•~f+-7!~~-+-7.f+-7:E~E-+7!~+7!~-+-7!t+7~+ ~ f ~ ~ THE MARYLAND REPUBLICAN THE ANNE ARUNDEL ADVERTISER Established 1809 Established 1870 i 7' + ! ;~ rrhe Advertiser-Republican '+' ~~ Superior Book and job Work ,,, t CHURCH CIRCLE AND NORTHWEST STREET ANNAPOLIS MARYLAND ! ~ c. i : & P. PHONE 330 ~~ JOHN ]. LEVY FELDMEYER' BROTHERS 31" High Grade Shoes for Men City Drug Store Sole Agency JUST WRIGHT and PACKARD - Pure Drugs and Chemicals ! ~ '! J< ~ I I Toilet Articles, Perfumery Cigars and Cigarettes Largest Exclusive Shoe Store in the City 69 WEST ST. ANNAPOLIS, MD. Opp. W. B. & A . Station t t GEO. ~~ ': i" I 1~ ~ J. DAVIS Athletic Goods College Stationery lee Cream Soda and Sundries 151 Main St. ~ "HOME FURNISHERS" 8-10 WEST STREET Thr ough to Northwest St. ANNAPOLIS, '"'•"""*'"'•"~"~" ,.~.., ~~~"~"'~~~" "~~ -+-/K 71, /1' 7. , ... ,, ...,,.......,, ~ I~ I I ~' !tt~ ~, . I ~-1~ J< 'l' :+ : ~ ~ ~ f t 1 < Candy, Tobaccos 74 MARYLAND AVENUE ANNAPOLIS, MD. Globe Furniture Co. 7' r ! r ~ I I ! l Makers of Fine Catalogues :t 7 f MARYLAND ~~ ~., ,t,,' . ,~/ ., 1 < ~ I w·~·7k .....- 7'1"'.: .....- 71': .... ~~·~-E-+7:~·7K-+7l~ 7:~ 71"':~ ....-71';" .... 71'\: ... 71~~~~~~ �3-"Johnnie" Storm gives a pink tea cin Junior floor. 4-Senior Hall turned into a regular Monte Carlo; even "Pris" and "Carey" shoot. 5-"Jack" says in a speech that he thinks it peculiarly appropriate that we should beat Western Maryland . " Jack' · was right. 6-S. J . C ., 23; Western Maryland , 7. ?-Everybody happy over victory . leave. "Kraig" soaks about 25 for French 8-Picn ic in " Shorty's " office . 9-"Pris" gets up a new scheme of each class wearing different colored hats! He sells the hats. 10-Everybody wears cits ; going to meet their best girls in Baltimore . 11-Academ ic day. Gayety has a full house. 12-"Sturdy" announces that there are 57 peanuts in "Snookums" " Marginal utility." 13-Team journeys to Washington College and are · beaten , 27-7; luck is a funny thing . 14-John Noble, Harrison and Nathan take French leave and stay over on Eastern Shore . wonder why? 15-Philomatheans practice for their play. " Pris" the leading lady. 16-"Dick" Burgess finds his bed overturned. War declared . 17-Mass-meeting; more spirit shown than · at any other time this year. 18-"Dope" Waters' car burns up on the way to Baltimore; he cries . 19-Spicknall makes graft selling Megaphones. 20-Hopkins, 20 ; St. John's, 6. Hopkins' Steam Roller strikes a snag. "Shorty" Curfman at football game : " Say fellows (looking at scoreboard ), "St. John's has four downs and Hopkins hasn't got any. Gee !" 22-"Shorty" Curfman acts as fullback on first team. 23-Proofs for Rat-Tat pictures come back. " Sleepy" says his picture doesn't do him justice. ' ' 24-Howes put in bath tub . Result: Thanksgiving holidays begin . Howes and Burgess take a vacation . 30-"Louie": "Say, Carey, lend me a dollar." Carey : "Ask 'Pris,' I' m broke.'· " Louie ": "' Pris' (?) Why he holds on to a dollar so tight , the eagle squeals.'' DECEMBER 1-"Sadie" Williams' latest Christmas styles arrive . 2-"Sam" gets three letters from Hager'stown. 3-" Mose " go es to bed at 1 0.30. Something wrong . �-;:. :.:~:~~·:~+?!E+;l~ +-7!~-+-1!~:~:f+7:~-+-7!~~:E ~:~If+-7{~l-E-+7!f+-7!f+-7l~7l~ )}< • >K + 7'~-+7~-+-7lf+7!~:f+~~-+-7:~...;.:~-• 7:~+7:~ ~ t ~ 1 • • ~t~ FARMERS NATIONAL BANK 1 ~r J J l ,,, J J ·r HIGH-GRADE UNIFORM CLOTHS in Sky and Dark Blue Shades . .. FOR .. ARMY, NAVY, AND OTHER UNIFORM PURPOSES of ANNAPOLIS l ---~ Deposits Total Resources $1,119,784.38 1,684,873.59 -~- --------- 1 l ~ .~!,:: 00 :t tt ;'" ~----- TRAVELERS CHECKS :t: Including those used at the U. S. Military Academy at West Point and other leadin g Military Schools of the country ,~- 7~~ SAFETY and SERVICE l ~f CADET GRAYS J: J. J w * t The largest assortment and best quality t ~ 7t h MARCH, 19 16 ,t, ... AND ... 00 ~ Cllhe ~ MANUFACTURERS OF -.~ f I Charlottesville Woolen Mills .,. ~F ~ CHARLOTTESVILLE, VIRGINIA l ~ : t:. ;.~ LETTERS OF CREDIT SAFE DEPOSIT BOXES L. D. GASSAWAY, Cashier HARRY J. HOPKINS, President I l; f + 7: '+~ t 7f f MEN! l~~ .,. l,4 ; POPHAM AND SON 11;ntrl flarylanb ANNAPOLIS, MD. • t: lUopular 1Jrirr illatlors I ~@! :+: t Modern Appointments Francis Stree t Ann apolis, l\Jd. Let us know when you visit Clhe Men's Shop Reasonable R ates l I ·'' 7 7 7 7 HUTZLEK Bffii'HERS ®. "The velvet Kind" ICE CREAM illtJTillllllllJn'llllllltJTtlil lhll1tflll liiifM1 r1i ll ltJTI1111111f1Tilll lii iiJl111 11 11 111Tf1r llllrflTilllll lrf1TI111 1 JTillll liii' BALTIMORE • ~:~ PASTEURIZED Hamburgers' THE STORE FOR COLLEGE "~EN Baltim ore and Hanover BALTIMORE Streets OSCAR SHACI(S' DEPARTMENT STORE 37-3n WEST STREET ~~FIRE tT '.+' ,' SUITS MADE TO ORDER A SPECIALTY .t ~-~..-_~. ~ HOMOGENIZED R~~s ~ +~ ,,~ /J. V ., D. lTn• IPrwear Mu ry land IJress Shirts Bus ter Brow n /los •• L ion Brctr~d Collars ~s I(IN G" ~ l\'. I ADE IN B.A l.TL'H OR .J<.: Contains many improvements Most economical and efficient gas ranges made KRAUSE, the Candy Man J A. Weiskittel & Son Company AGENT ~+; BALTIMORE, MD ., U.S. A. ~~~ ~~~ ' '~ 'l' __ M ANUFACT URE D B Y , ,~ ~1.; ' '~ l.--; J: .~.·'~ t f _ :._t~~...,_:._•.,~,~ ~,h:-,.-_. ~ ~~~ ..... ~ ~ '-'4~~ ,,, ~ A~.n~ro::-+-/rt+-7rt+-7r:-+-;,~;,, 7*-';, ,,~-+ ";,_.. + ,;-,, ~ +-;,~+ ; . . _ _: : .t ' / ,_.. 71~ /~ffi~~ ... .... ~L ... ~t_-: ..._ ~~~v ... ~V '-V ~/ , , ,.. , ,_.. , , , , , ... 1 -;: , ,,, :::Y: h. /h _,, ' ' ";: · t_; ~-. -: o--, , -+·, .-.-+-;-"-+-; "-+-, r ,-+ d ,-+-;, , ~k+ , �:*+7}E-+-~lE+7Jf-+7}E-+-7'~f+-1'~~~~ · * . >K• 7l~*-+-7Jf+7!~7:E+~~ -+-3!:E+~~:f+~~·~~:~~-+7~:~+7:E-+-7·:~~:~...;}E-+ ~ ~ l l I T '+' I l r >« l 4-"Shorty's" army journeys to- Baltimore, and he shows his authority by marching us back again. 5-Large church squad (?) . Even MacKenzie is absent. 6-Twenty-six men on sick report. Parade has a bad effect. "Tommy" :!E J, ;~ I M J: ~f' r >« l :+: 7-Prof. Mittendorf leaves room while on sick list to go to Physics I. ~It: ;~-< 8-Band gives "Dingbat" at serenade. J~ 'f~ J ~: : ... ; ;.::_ : :J Oh you disc.o rds. ~{ 9-"Dingbat" soaks sixteen men on same day. 10-First Cotillon hop ; large attendance. I Much chicken . ;~: ',:,.~: 11-"Sam" feels as though he were in Monte Carlo. 12-Cox soaks Major Wigton for leaving church squad . 13-First snow of year. Snow battle on Junior floor. 'f ;,< "Johnnie" Storm wins . 14-lra Talton makes money selling hot dogs. 15-John Wilson's engagement announced. 'l' ! ~ :r J,: · 20--"Shorty" announces his intention of making up with Regina when he goes home. £ '+ ' 18-Cox washes face ten times, as usual. 2 1-Everybody makes up back work in order to get good marks for Christ- 22-AII go home for hoi idays. t I,, ; i ~t: ~ + ~ • I 1' •\< ~ ~ 7~ 7f I I ! I ~ 5-"Dingbat" gets another serenade at band practice. "Dope" in his prime. 6-C<:rey Jarman returns two days late. The re must be some attraction in his home town. Debate between S. J . C. and Delaware Colleg e. DRUGS, TOILET ARTICLES CIGARS, CIGARETTES SODA wATER C. & P. TELEPHON E 40° ,r, 8-St. John 's loses to Catholic University at basket ball ; Reserves lose to Poly. "Julie" cusses. 10- Taymen takes a prolonged vacation . He go es to Florida for the wintel' months. 11-Lieut. McNeil summons all crap shooters down to his office; "Pris" ~t J I I ~ ::t• ~!~:~~~...;:~:E+;:E-+-·~:~ • ~K • ~{E-+~~~~~:E-+::~E-+7lf+7l~~ i~ t JOHN R. I-IOPWOOD DINING RooM TABLES FOR LADrEs 216 E. BALTIMORE ST. B et. Culvert and No rt1• Sts . BALTIMORE, MD. m t I ~+f 1E 7 Vacu um Cleoning System GasLightmgSystem Gasolin e and Acetylene Tclephone434 CHARLES A. HOWARD ,t SANITARY ENGINEER PL UMBING. GAS FITTING , STEAM a n d ROT WATER HEATING ' ' I ~t: i* ~~ ~ l '.::' ~ 1 7 +E lE 'i 7i~ * ~ + ' ;,, t -, I ! ~ 1 : t I ;f' I ~+: ~t J MARYLAND A nd lots o+ other Seasonable Good 'J Things to Eat " 104 COLLEGE AVENUE A:VNA POLIS MARYLAND ;,:< ;,~ ANNAPOLIS, Ffor.;st J~ '+' ~ -~ .~.·, < 21 Year s on Baltimore Street :+ : ~-~ East Street and State Circle l The House with a Reputation for STEAKS, CHOPS, EGGS, FISH, OYSTERS RUDOLPH J(AJSER • :k i l ¥ :J.:: l J: .', ; • ~ .~ ;E J' J, J: ~ {~ ~ £ t m 1 ~: , {~ Factory: 212 Little Sharp Street Memorandum package sent to any fra ternity member through the secretary of the chapter. Speciol designs and estimates furnished on medals, rings, pins, for athletic m eets, etc. l ~~ BALTIMORE, MD. FLORAL DESIGN Sa Snecialty . r ~ Very large attendance. 9-0yster roast on Junior floor. Greek Letter t ,t S. J. C. wins. ~~};E • ';K • ~{~~1E+~E+7!E+*-+7k~E-+-7:f+ * ,t ~ JANUARY stays away. + Pharmacist ~t 4-0nly half come back on time,· some had too much Christmas spirits. 7-Second Cotillon hop. 7t~ i, fl; maL · 1- :t: " .t' ;,, ~t~ ~~ Manufacturer of 213 North Liberty Street 1: :£ r, ]. Newton Gilbert 1 'f j; ;f' * ~ A. H. FETTING Fraternity Jewelry ~~ ~ i~ ' ~ '' :~ ;+" React. 19-"Johnnie" Storm and " Fats" Weaver have their regular rough house. t ~'t'~ }~ 16-Spicknall asks Prof. Gray what the reaction is when coffee and NaCI ;~ i ;,, ;~< ~{ l: .. •. J 17-"Duckey" tells Noble, A . H ., about the relation, etc. :r _ t J t scared. ~., --7:~..;.:-4-7:~~:~:~:~:E-+7'~l~-+1:E+7~~~~~E-+7:~-+-7:-E+7~ ~E+*-+7:~-+-~;:f+1:~·7:~·~:~..;:~·~:~·;:f+7:~+-7:~ +- P. COROSH WATCHES, DIAMONDS JEWELRYandSILVERWARE WATCH AND CLO CK REPA /JUNG A S PECI ALTY 30 State Circle ELECTRI C MOTORS Annapolis, Md. ~E l' ~E "'" £ 'l ' J ¥ l: ~: 4 ~~ l Dra irwge and Wo.te r·Sewer Syste m s for County R es ide n ce GASOLINE ENGINES I t.' 192 MAIN ST. Annapolis, Md. P HONE J42 ·M ..-~:~.;:~-+7!~-+~~-+7:~~~7:~ ·~:~-E-+7~:~;:~~E~!E-+7:~:f-+j:~-+7lE-+* *•· * •*•~!~~-+-71E-+7!-E-+7:t-+7:~-+-7l~+-71~-+7:E-+- �.. ~TID~ ~+~ l JIDTilliTilli~ ~®®llm • • Baltimore ~+: G. C. SEMDERLAND Manager 1212 CONTINENTAL BUILDING J :+~ lt 7 I 122 W. Baltimore Street Will add zest to the appetite and give Phone, Sr. Paul 40 36 enjoyment to the meal, for their puritY BALTIMOR E. MD. ' '/ l T ELE I' HONE, St. Pnu l 4906. BALTIMORE 35 HOLLAND STREET • .,. • and intrinsic merit in the cup ~+' ANNAPOLIS, MD . / I~ • ~t~ :+: • /. '"': t '+ ' J l;,: .t ~{ ;. ~ ~t J~ ;. ~ .• ,. 71 Hirshberg Art Co. HEADQ UA RTERS FOR DRAWING MATERIALS El\ GINEERING INSTRUMENTS A RT SUPPLIES and PICTURE FRAMING 418 N. Howard St., Baltimore, Md. 1.1£. §trangr & §onn I NT ERIOR MANDRIS BROS. • AN D EXTER IO.R DECORATORS ~~ ICE CREAM and CONFECTIONERY I 59 Main Street Telephone 32 ANNAPOLIS, MD. ~ ... t t ~" £ J 7 + ' 1 " l~ ~t~ ~ ':..~ W holesale and Reta il Dealer s in Fore ign and Do mestic FRUITS, NUTS, CONFECTIONERY VEGETABLES AND PROVISIONS .: . H eadquane rs forT ro pical Fruirs ;,-: R. Q. T ~:LOR · & CO. ... irlattrr.n... For the Dressy Apparel that Men Wear----Come and See Us • • + 1" ,,. DUNLAP & CO., New York. CHRISTY & CO., London. STRANGE & WHITE ;+ ' 18 E. Baltimore St., Baltimore, Md. Annapolis, Md. AGENTS l"O R {~ j' 0~, .t H ats, C aps, Umbrellas, C anes, Gloves, Raincoats, Auto Rugs. .t • ::: ;. + ~~: ~ !.'~ ~,:~.;:~-+-;:~-+-7:~-+-7!.:-+ 7:7+-7:~-+-~l~-+~E~!~~~E-+-* ~:~-~!~-+-7:E-+-~:E-+-;:~+;:~..-;:~-+ ;:~~~~+7:~;~ ~ ~:~·~~· ;:~ • ~:~-+ ;:7• ~:~ +-? :.:.: • ~:~· F• .,. • ... .,, • =-·~ Be nana s a Speciah y .t M Af'..KET PHONE , 578-M ,t STALLS IN THE CITY MAf'..KET CHOCOLATES for sale. Our ICE CREAM is THE B E S T 1N T 0 W N . :{ ,t ~t~ ~' ~; J~ J >l-i AN NAPOLIS. MARYLAND ;. ~ :f ;,, • ~: ~ Come to see us for your Ice Cream For Your New Suit--Get Our Prices ••• 0 MEN'S READY-MADE SAMPLE SUITS T STETSON HATS TAILOR and HAMBURGER CLOTHING FULL DRESS that is Up-to-Date ONYX and INTERWOVEN HOSE BAGS, .TRUNKS al)d CASES • • ;,~ STORE PHON E, 116 We have all the LEADING ;+~ ~~ JOSEPH LOREA & SONS Store, 26 MARKET SPACE, Cor . Corn hill St. • 4 T J. EDWARD HIBLINE •- ;+ ' "T and Candies Yours, MANDRIS BROS. ;c; N" LARGEST CLEA N ING AND PRESSING HERTFAIS TH 55,5;T:a~~a:: :venue 0 Phone 387 ANNA POLIS, MD. ~••~ ;t; ,.~ [: ;~i r .,. ....;::-.-;:~ •·~:~...;:~:-:+;:~-+-3-:E-+-;:~ ~'f+-;:~+7!~~:f+-;:~...;:~ ;:~~~~-•;:~-~:~+:-!f•-;: f+-;-:~·-;~..; :7+-;:~-..; :~-+-?!7+-7!~-+-;:~•;-:~....;: 7+--7!~-+.:!E~: ~· ~:-::-; �~}:~ .;:~-+7:~:~.;:~.;:~-+7l'E-+7l~-+1~E-+;; --+7~+-;;~.;:~.;:~.;:~.;:E-+1!E.;.:f+-7:~..;-:~:E-+7:f+-~:~•+!~? l ~•;: ~•;:~·+-7:~:~•7!~:~:~.~~ ~ ~ ~ I 14-No drill. How did it happen?-a misunderstanding somewhere. 15-"Fats" plays Jess Willard . Some miraculous tales told. 16-"Mose" is sick again, just before church as usual, so "Jack" excuses him. 17-Thirty-one on sick report. I t t :J~ ~r:: ; _ MOORE'S CONFECTIONERY ~ '" ~r ~ MaryIdAvenue an dPrince George Street an "Tommy" is kept busy. and then laughs. 19-John Noble soaks Gaveghan behind the ear with a potato. 20-"Wh iskers" improper dress in mess hall; no bib at breakfast formation. 21-Coti lion hop. 22-Heise in Reserves beat City. Governor Harrington receives. Physics Class: ' "Professor, is the temperature of the cold :t~ ~} Oh, Isaac! ~f 26-Exams. start ; some few go home, "Shorty" one of the first to leave . I 27-"Snooks" reads "The Chaperon, " his usual occupation . 28-"Whiskers" proves himself to be quite an ac . obat ; r glasses on his ear. he now balances Why weren't you exempt? 30-"Heine" tells us how he passed Physics; he worked the problems out by Cal cui us. 31-H istory II Exam. What do you know about, The Confeder·ation of the Rhine, or the treaty of Tilsit? FEBRUARY 1 -" Heine " tells us how he passed Calculus. Poor thing, 'tis a pity he drinks. 2-"Sturdy" tells us we have two weeks' vacation. Gocd boy I call you . John Wilson married ; oh, you lucky devil. 15-N ::> bwsket bnll practice for a week. 16-" Dope" Water·s and "Dick" Burgess move out ; they're going to study now. 17-History II Class hides under the steps from "Sturdy." 18-Cotillon hop ; Goucher attends and also stays over for the Navy hop. 19-Navy hop; St. John's and Goucher attend. room. Rats rough house, "Crums" 20-"Pat" Darley and "Bandy " Fie l ds are deranked fo r wearing cits on State road. AGENTS FOR Nunnally's, Martha Washington, Whitman's, Norris', Belle Meade, Appolo and Samoset Chocolate:; T ~ t ~ ; t • .'f. ~ c •' t ~f ! OPEN FROM 8 A. M. TO 10.30 P . JVI. SATURDAYS UNTIL ll P. M. OPEN AFTER THE HOPS Goods ordered by mail will be sent on approval ~~- .:, :+ : ~ t t t t 14-Studies begin again. '+' ~ 25-Battle royal on Junior floor, Carey has his finger bitten. 29-French and Physics Exams. ~ ~ water 100 deg r ees Centigrade?" 23-Burke puts one over on "Shorty" about bath tub on Senior floor. 24-"Pris" goes out to sell some paper. ~ I t c~~ ',~<' + ~ ;± ' 18-Prof. Ridgely tells a joke about Adam; "Boney" thinks tor a few minutes ~ l ~ ;~ J t 1 1 + 1 ~.<::: DAVID N. BACHARACH MA C G. RASIN £ 1 BACHARACH & RASIN ~ X 1 I Football, Gymasium, Track ~t~ and Baseball Outfitters...... ~: l WRIGHT 0. DITSON t ~ • 0 :-,- • SPECIAL AGENTS FOR • 16 N. HOWARD STREET BALTIMORE, MD. You are invited to make our club rooms y our headquarters Rats straighten up "Crum's" room : while in the city :+: I :t: ?i~ ~+' ~~ :£ l l~ ~~ ;-~ • * ~ -+-:-:~-+-7!~}~;;~....;.:~:t._,!E-+-7:E-+-7l~;:~~~~+7~ ~7!E•3{E+7!E+~!E+-1:E+-7!E-+7!~E-+7!~7:~:~-+ *-+-;.:~:E-+7:E•~:~-+.;:~·;-:~ •~:--• �*'1• ... .f-+.!_1.!,.....~ .... ' "' · h , ,, / h~....;l~l;::....,;•~....~t;,.. · ,,, /h .... :::: / h. ~ . .-.... " " ,..,, +j=K ..... /1~·+7.~" ~~k· :::1,/ ' I " ..;{::;:+;,,' ..-;-,, ...;:,...,:-:• • q :· 1 ~~~;...~ t~l~l '~ -t~V~I~I~I~I/ ' IL..&. ' I-' ' I I' '1/~l~/ ' V ' 1" ' , ' ... .... /(, "" ..............,. A~-+-;-,t+ ' / " ~. • . .,. :. 1.:. . :..1 .. ...... ~ :- ~ l ~ The D. Markley Supply Co. ·~ DEALERS IN , ,, ~ l "' 'f ? ;,~ .t • . • Staple and Fancy Groceries • ,, Cement and Building Material Garden and Field Seeds Agricultural Implements • t :-.- ., • :""1 ~ GENERAL MERCHANDISE LAURAVILLE, ·HARFORD ROAD • :-t: • ,, • :--.: • BALTIMORE COUNTY, MD. We are Headquarters for Everything "WE NEVER SLEEP " .. .tn ... Lumber, Lath, Shingles Builders' Hardware Neponset Wall Board Arch, Fire and Pressed Brick Roofing and Building Paper Davis 100% Pure Paints Glidden Varnishes, Shingle Stains Glass and Brushes, Flue Lining Lime, Cement and Plaster Window and Door Screens Galvanoid and Copper Wire QUICK and CLEAN SERVICE EUROPEAN PLAN The Maryland Restaurant S. SAMARAS, Proprietor \Ve deliv ~r by Our Own Trucks and Boats and g unraot ee prompt deli\'ery. Se e our good s and get prices before buying elsewhere FURNISHED ROOMS FOR RENT Farinholt- Meredith Company C. & P . PHONE 12 ANNAPOLIS, MD. 168 MAIN STREET Telephone 444-J ANN A POLIS, MD. .t NOTICE We have installed an up-to-date plant for the Bottling of PURE SOFT DRINKS Leib Packing Co. • • ,,. ~. --: ]OliN AUL, Proprietor W.F. CHILDS & SON GROCERIES Phon e 123 For Prices, Etc. Fruits, Produce FRESH and SUGAR CURED MEATS HAY and FEED WHOLESALE PARLETT & PARLETT CO., Inc. ANNAPOLIS, MD . Hotel Maryland Barber Shop ;-,-; WITH Filtered and Distilled Water IN CLEAN BOTTLES 'f ~~ • • • ,,. , I ', ,,. • FACIAL MASSAGE A Specialty 171 CONDUIT STREET ANNAPOLIS MA RYLAND ; ,:: ~r~ ,,. • , ,, THE RIDOUT CO. GENTLEMEN'S F UR NISHING GOODS TELEPHONE 85 Prompt Delivery SCALA & COMPANY GREEN GROCERIES A lso Men 's, l'01tth's and Boys' R eady -Made CLOTHING POULTRY, EGGS BUTTER and MIXED NUTS �7~l~-+7:~...;:~7~-+-7!E-+-~l~•7:~+-7:E+7~E+7:~•-;:~·~:~• ..;:~-..;:~_...,:~-+7:~:~:~~-+7{~ -+7:~:~-+-i:f+':~-+-7:~:~ +?l~ • ;-:~+7:~ +7:~+7:E-+7l1: ~ t ~ t m ~ ~ ~t 21-Edgar Fell gave speech in chapel about the Ford Peace Trip . ~--z 22-Washington's Birthday exercises in morning . Prof. Handy arlso makes us feel sick. l * l • ~ "Mose" gives us a spiel. '~ 24-Rock Hill is beaten at basket ball. ~ :{ ;t; 25-" Mose " brings hymn book over to room to learn to sing. + '" I J: 26-St. John ' s, 37 ; Penn. Military College , 30. 1' l 27-No church-too windy ; (Mackenzie wants to sleep ). t 28-Billingslea eats the g r avy, thinking it is a bowl of soup. *< + ~t .;.'E 29-Trayer receives some pink and blue letters from his fair ones at the ± f ~t ~ I ~ f ~,: ~·" * ,t ~ T. ¥ ,!. f ¥ .r; t l 7 f " +' 7' 1 2-" Johnnie" Wilson now wears pen on his ear. 3-Cotillon Hop ; taxi's popular. 4-" Sa i nt Johnnies" attend Navy Hop . It was great. 5-" Mo r pheus" reigned supreme, even at church formation . 6-"Sam" Freeny cleans up. He now doubles his bank account. " Louie" Miles is feeling sad and d r eary. 7-Grey comes on 0. C . 8-Grey again on 0 . C.; making up for lost tim e. 9-Grey on 0 . .C. again . Grey-" Mr. Jacques, I thought you we r e on the sick r e port this morning ." Jacques-" 1 came off." G r ey-" 1 don 't see how you a r e well enough to come to duty, si nce you were sick this A . M." " Sho r ty " - " Oh! Thunder ! Gray, don't you eve r f e el bad when you get up ?" " 12-" Mose " and " Dick " Burg e ss have a little fray. " Mose " thinks h e wins big victo r y . Poor thing , well he paid for hi s " +' 7' 1 ,r, 7 t J ,.. , :+ : ~f~ J~ i ~ f ~ 11-Basket ball team journeys to Lonaconing. victory any way. 13-ln Lat i n Class. " Bob " White-" lf you carry the left hind leg of a grave-yard Hare to exams. you ' ll be sure to pass ." Weaver-" More so ,. Prof., if you ca r ry the l eft h i nd leg of a Jun io r Floor ~ ~ 14-" Dope " Waters s i gns out and goes down to see his wife at the Maryland Hotel. Hooray ! CONSTANTIA VICIMUS . ~f l ~ £ ;}_~ ± c . &I P. Ph one. Mt.Vern on 4745 John Eichler. Prop Maryland Awning and Tent Company Telephone lndependant Steam TENTS AND FLAGS ~, J , :.~ '!' BALTIMORE, MARYLAND ,t ~ I 1 '" i: ~ l I "' ~· 7 lE W '"'"' C'""''" •odFloO< Co• m oo Hi" "" Flag De co r~tiouo to H i r e f or all O cca sions l ~ EASTPORT Annapolis, Maryland I f ~ ~~ li.,(A>· <J-..>U , ,T.~ " f' " I l }: ~: f ¥ >ki , -,' 'f ~ I l~ 31~ 728 North Eutaw- Street * 1 1 :f ~+' l' ~ .; J.E ¥ ,T:: 46-M AWNINGS ~ J, 'i'E £ J Laundry Company + ~ C 1· f omp tments o C k ~~ We make Class Pins and College Seals, also furnish Frat~roity Bronze Shields on oak board for wall decorations, College Seal Rings, Link Buttons, Watch Fobs, Belt Pins, Etc., as well as a fi ne selection of I '" ~~ ·.,· "' "' t '' t / f':. or ran ~ Hill Wa tches, Diamonds and Jewelry 7 William ]. Miller ~ f * . t j: BALTIMORE'S BIGGEST, BEST STORE l l ~: ~ s~E.WART&(2; ~-~~~~ l 71~ 7~ • :£ J ,.. , ";~ l ~ ~f l Po.ny. " 15-Rat-Tat goes to press. ~ t +' 1 -" Dope" Waters gives a solo for Torovsky . .t :£ ;!~ J' 1 I 7 MARCH 10-Stanford, r eported ; unsteady movements at drill. J~ .J< I JE State No r mal School. 7 lE * ~' t ~ 1 1 ,T < 'l St. John's Reserves, 36; Baltimore City College , 47. •7!~+7l~!~-+-7l~-+-;:~-+-7:E-~:~ ;:~ -+-7I~:~-+7:~;~..;:~.;:E-+-7~!~-+-~f:-+7:~~!t+ :}E-...;.:~ ;{~~~'f+-7:~~~:~:f+-~~f+-1:f+-7:f+7i~+ * J: 23-Wilson r eturns from his honeymoon ; many congratulations. "Snooks " nearly gets in t o a fight. t l J ~t 'f t t ~ ~ ~~~~:~•7:f+-7:~:~:~7!E+-7l~-+-7!E-+-7:~...;:~;:f+-7!E+- +7l~•7:~•7!~7~-+'l~-+-7:~-+-7:~..;*+-7:~:~!E+1:~.;:E-+3!E-+-7!E-+7:E-+7:-:+?-:~•':~-+-7~~r: I ,l'_ /. _ T. )~~ ~ o--=-- 28 E Baltim ore Street Baltimore, • SEND FOR CATALO G ~ ~: In Connection With j ames McCreer y & Co. , N ew YMk . We gtve Surety Coupons and Redeem them in Our O wn M erchandise All Mail Orders Promptly and Efficiently Filled 4 * ~' ,t I ;t~ f ~ ,t ~ ;-+' ~ Md . ~~-E+;K • ~K • ~~~ • * •*• :~ f ! l ~ )!( · ~~:f+7:E+7!~~:~;:s.-7:f+.~:~ 7~~iE+7~:E+7.'f+7~lE+-7:f+-**"7i~ + �.. -:~ • ;: ~-+ ;.::-.--;:~...;::-. ;.: ~ • ;:~-+-~l~ •'~:~-+-7:~ • :-:~-+ ;.}f;:~;.:~;~~'1E-+7',C • ~'< • Y~ ~:~:~...;:E-+-7:7*-;:~:E-+?!~-+7!~-+-7!~• ; :~-+-7:~;:~ ;:~• ffi ffi • ! • • • ;:~ Main Street .• ,, 163 Main Jtreet, Annapolis, Maryland JONES& FRANI(LIN ]. Lynn MeA boy Groceries, Hardware Woodenware, Etc . Canned Fruits, Vet;·etables and Preserves Photographer ANNAPOLIS, MA RYLAND .•. 206-208 Church St. Annapolis, Md . .• ,, J :-.--:: • Bus Service a .lpecia lty Carrying Twelve Passengers Capital Garage Automobile and Truc.k Service In and out of State Closed Cars a Specia.lty West Street, Annapolis, Md. J. A. WELCH Garage Groceries and Provisions .llgent for Ceresota and Severn Flour 56 West Street Phone 333 .llnnapolis, Md. Philip Miller Haberdashery, Shoes The Great House of ISAAC BENESCH & SONS ·. -: 123-125-127 MAIN STREET MARYLAND ANNAPOLIS, • Ready Day or Night Deal er in Th e same l essons yo u yo" ung m e n at S l. J oh n ' s Coll ege are be ing tau ght we r e l earned by The t;rea t Bouse or I saa c ll enesch & So n s . T hat The G r ea t House has learn ed its leosso u well i s bes t evid enced by its grf'al bu siness s uccess . Unl .:sot we h ad follow ed th e paL.h or "U i_g hl Thinking" and "R iJ!ht Acting " wh ich yo u yo un g m en a r e be ing ta u ght , s uccess wou ld h ave been imposs ibl e. COMPLIMENTS of Annapolis Phone 640 Frank Stromeyer Think Right and You Are All Right Compliments of George W. Jones Bookseller, Stationer, News Dealer No . 194 Main Street Through to II State Circle Annapolis, Md . Hart, Schaffner ~ Robb Combs & Co. 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I )1\1(&l.h:~ll'[3 @~ 'f.t!ID.~ M~&'ll:g"'T'&'(l:9~ I t """"""'""'"""'""'"'"'"""'" """"""""""""""'" '""''"'"'""""""'""""""""'""""""""'""""'" """""""'""'""'""""";. / i f ®llilcQl m3£&~IT~©JRU~ ----~~------- ©__~ QQ_~__ ~___&____Q_Q__ ©_-® ~- ~ __ ~_ " ~ _ u ~ Q ~_· ~ -------~~---· " r 1 · l lf'llrl'lll!lllflfl1111~ 1 1f'!Till'' ll 1Jtl1lll ttt lj1Tifl!illlf'!ftll! ll!ll'lf[Ji ii lli Ttf11 1 1 1 11Tlftiil i iTI'!'IlTi'i'fTiT'iMiilfTTl1'1Tii'1Tl ''l fM1 !11 li l tml tilllt i\Tii il'· · l fiTi1 11 '111 fi111 r11111 fMJ U11 t lfifiW iht iiT'i'lHi i ll iJW rllllt l'lfi'W' 'n iftiiJII hr iJTil lll f ENGRAVINGS FOR THIS BOOK BY crr~~ ~lectric illit-g ~n~t;a\Jin,g <Itu.BUFFA LO I l � 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/. 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I ‘ r I \ I �Early Writings: An Academic Journal St. John’s College Graduate Institute of Santa Fe, New Mexico 2011 STJOHN’S College ANNAPOLIS • SANTA FE This project is dedicated to Mr. Matthew Davis, without whose support and supervision this project would not have been possible. ��Early Writings: An Academic Journal St. John's College Graduate Institute of Santa Fe, New Mexico 2011 Editor: Mary Creighton Editorial Board: Brian Connolly Jeffrey Allen Grant Wycliff John Hungerford Caitlin McShea Max Coscia Alex Kun Charles Brogan Cover Design: Anastasia Kilani Cover Image: Copyright Maria Friberg, Courtesy Conner Contemporary Art. �Contents: Our Project in Brief Mary Creighton iv The Poetic Prose of King Lear Bethany McGee 1 Aristotle's Ethics: Human Nature and Sociability Celine LePluart-Kamm 5 Ge Zhichuan Moving His Dwelling Reina Lopez 9 Reflections on Xenophon’s Two Accounts of Socrates' Last Days Clint Condra 15 What Nature Contributes to Character Natalie Plowman 25 No Country for Old Men: Does Kant’s Categorical Imperative Have Any Place in the American Political Ethos? Jeffrey Allen 34 A Selection From: Intimations of Re-Creation From Recollections of Dejection and Joy” Nathan Cartmell 39 Meditation on Li Bai's Invitation to Wine Turner Resor 55 11 �The Rights of a Citizen and the Rights of Man: Constitutionality and Natural Law in the Dred Scott Decision and Lincoln’s Springfield Speech of 1857 Kanishka G.B. Marasinghe 60 Wisdom and Wizardry: Vimalakirti’s Inconceivable Technique for Reinvigorating the Dharma Brian Connolly 67 The Problem of Pederasty in Plato’s Phaedrus John Hungerford 84 The Unmentioned Standing Reserve Caitlin McShea 97 Reason in Crisis: A reflection on Edmund Husserl’s The Crisis of European Sciences Nick Urban 108 �Our Project in Brief: In his hook Aspects of the Novel, E.M. Forster claims, "the final test of a novel will be our affection for it." From ancient tragedies and philosophical manuscripts, to modern political treatises and novels, there are those works in the Great Books curriculum that so baffled or provoked us, so inspired or intrigued us, that we are left with no option other than to confront them in our writing. So, in a sense, this book resembles more a collection of essays about our affections than it does an academic journal. In other words, presented in this book are academic essays that illuminate the intellectual investigations that we have undertaken while enrolled in the Graduate Institute at St. John’s College in Santa Fe. In addition to our authors’ contributions. Early Writings: An Academic Journal of the St. John's College Graduate Institute has burgeoned from the hard work of eight diligent editorial board members and an industrious cover designer. This group of editors volunteered their time and energy to review and edit a selection of the twenty-nine submitted essays. Once a submission was sent to the stiohns.gi.iournal@gmail.com email address, an anonymous copy was reproduced for editorial review. Once an essay’s approval by majority vote determined its inclusion in the journal, a group of two to five editors began the editing and reviewing process. Editors who submitted to the journal surrendered their voting rights during review of their essay, and the occasion of their submission remained classified. The editing process included changes in spelling, grammar, syntax, word usage, basic content changes, and organization. The author was then contacted with a copy of these changes as submitted by the board before the essay proceeded to the formatting stage. All submissions remained anonymous and at no point was the review board privy to personal information regarding the authors. The decision to include a submission was based on a number of variables. The ultimate decision to include a work was based not only on its quality, but its length, subject matter, etc. For instance, if there were multiple essays submitted on a given subject, only one may have been selected for publication, for the sake of subject diversity. Similarly, space constraints had an impact. This does not mean, however, that more obscure and shorter pieces were given preference. Rather, an amalgamation of many variables determined an essay’s precedence and subsequent inclusion. Our objective has been to provide a polished forum to feature curriculum-based academic essays of currently enrolled Graduate students of both the Eastern Classics and Liberal Arts programs. The inquisitive reader will find that our selections include a wide range of IV �subjects, thinkers, genres and writing styles: Included in our selection are Master's Essay Abstracts, Preceptorial classroom essays and Tutorial classroom essays. The prudent reader, furthermore, will find in this diversity proof that in the St. John's community, there is no one predominant method by which texts are explored. In completing this project, we are reminded that there are as many perspectives from which one may investigate a text, as there are texts to investigate. In each of these explorations we find something classical, something provocative, something earnest, and something charming. We hope you find the same. Mary Creighton Editor V ��The Poetic Prose of King Lear Bethany McGee S?J=*=SH=r.S , Enter Edgar. these divisions. Fa, sol, la, mi. ' ' do portend —Edmund (I.ii.128-1483 Edmund s soliloquy in the second scene of the first act of Kinn i ■ P??S=“S==i=2 into the ,„.o„s both w,.h,„ the laf,:: ^ aSe' Mv.CSa'S''; Through animal, sexual and biblical imaeerv ^ u ■ t?"T^aTa*™ “of man s ambiguous position between god and beast Thp ...o /, ?S=SS5H=iS=«: ~Y.x-^;~5Br€r something that is beyond our control. As he goes on to te I us PH h 1 �"bastard" at large as well as to his own situation. Yet he refuses to make excuses for his own disposition. Instead he asserts that he would be the same man had his birth been at any other time. His thoughts are interrupted with the entrance of his legitimate brother Edgar, of whom he has just begun to speak. This brings him back into the action of the play and to his villainous plot. Edmund paints a dismal portrait of human nature. The examples he gives of man are of the worst kind: "villains,” "fools,” "knaves, thieves, and treachers," "drunkards, liars, and adulterers,” and then "whoremaster,” "rough" and "lecherous.” He believes that man is ruled by his appetites, and excessively so. We are "surfeits of our own behavior,” indulging to the point of disgust. With the words of his speech, "goatish,” "Dragon” and "Ursa" (or bear), he emphasizes this animalistic nature. In fact, the only adjectives he uses with any positive connotation seem meant to be taken as ironical. He uses "excellent” to depict the "foppery of the world” and "admirable” to describe the "evasion of whoremaster man.” The root of his disgust for humanity appears to be primarily sexual. Emphasizing his obsession with his own bastardization throughout the play, his soliloquy is wrought with sexual imagery. Beyond the blatant usage of "adulterers,” "whoremaster,” "lecherous” and an account of his "bastardizing” in which his "father compounded with [his] mother,” his language hints at a sexual drive which is all the more powerful for its subtlety. The mention of "goatish disposition,” as well as making an allusion to the astrological sign of Capricorn, conjures a lustful and lewd image. The phrase "under the Dragon’s Tail” rings phallic when followed so closely by the virginal description of something as "maidenliest.” Even the "divine thrusting on” of the first sentence can be understood within a sexual framework. In stark contrast to the language of vulgar sexuality and animalism, the listener is reminded of the eternal heavens. We are treated to "the sun,” "the moon,” and the three-times-mentioned stars, as well as things described as "heavenly,” "planetary” and "divine.” The soaring prose reaches its zenith in the final allusion to a heavenly body with the phrase "the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled.” This striking difference in language and theme highlights the contradiction Edmund sees in trying to connect one’s base existence to some higher purpose. For Edmund, this association is detestable. Human nature is obscene and he admits, being "rough and lecherous,” that he is no exception. Yet he differs from those he despises by making no excuse for his character. "I should have been that I am,” he declares, "had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.” Even worse than our animalism is making the heavens "guilty of our disasters.” In this we not only make excuses for our shortcomings and misfortunes but seek to associate 2 �ourselves with the eternal and the divine. By resisting the temptation to put his "disposition on the charge of a star,” Edmund has reclaimed not only culpability but agency as well. He views his "villainous melancholy" as a choice rather than a "necessity,” and in that choice he sees power. Edmund's hesitation to associate himself with the divine is subtly undermined by the words Shakespeare puts into his mouth. There is an undercurrent of Christian imagery running throughout the speech. It is first brought to the reader’s attention in Edmund’s claim that "[He] should have been that [he is] had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on [his] bastardizing." This reads as a version of the Immaculate Conception of Christ. Birth under the "maidenliest star” is reminiscent of the perfect virginity of Mary who, by giving birth out of wedlock, gave birth to a bastard son. The Christian tones are enforced by language that is strikingly biblical: "nativity” rings of The Nativity; "firmament” is a key word in the creation story; "Bedlam” is a corruption of "Bethlehem”; and, we hear of a "divine thrusting on,” as if the Divine had thrust the seed of a child upon the Virgin. By painting himself both as a Christ-figure and a human agent, Edmund sets himself up for the comments he makes at the end of his soliloquy. He has put himself at a level above the other characters and somehow at a level above the play itself. He is able to view the events and his own person from an outside position almost as one of the audience, and recognize the action for what it is — a piece of drama on a stage. He, more than any other character, is allowed a view of the whole. He is able to reference previously spoken lines ("0, these eclipses do portend these divisions”: an allusion to lines spoken by his father] as well as those to come ("with a sigh like Tom o’ Bedlam”: the character his brother will assume in later scenes]. He has gained such a wide perspective on the entirety of the drama that he can comment upon the workings of the very play in which he participates. He verbalizes his "cue” upon Edgar’s entrance and remarks that it is "like the catastrophe of the old comedy,” or like the culminating event of a drama by which the plot is resolved. Even in this moment of meta-drama, Edmund seems to ignore the fact that "catastrophe" is generally the domain of tragedy. He seems unable to recognize the seriousness of his situation and imagines he is on a path to a happy — comic — ending. Because of Edmund’s heightened awareness of drama and the frequency with which he addresses the audience throughout the play, his speech in Act I stands out. This is the only time he, who normally speaks in verse, soliloquizes in prose. One must ask what is significant in this choice of form and what effect it has on an audience. In contrast to Edmund’s other soliloquies, the prose section seems to consciously resist being broken into iambic feet and thus pays little regard to a regimented 3 �number of syllables within a phrase. Yet the prose is full of poetic elements: elevated language, metaphor and vivid imagery. And, though not consistently regulated, upon recitation, the selection takes on a metered cadence. So why not write the passage in verse? Why single out this speech with the distinction of prose, a traditionally less-celebrated form? Why choose words of heavy stress like "adulterers," "whoremaster,” "fools,” "knaves," "thieves," "treachers," and "evil" that are not typically the content of lyrical, iambic poetry? It is as if the subject of the soliloquy would defile poetic language. As if neither the author nor the speaker could bear to elevate such a cruel, lewd portrait of humanity and hypocrisy to the level of the poetic. Yet there are moments, as in the lines "by spher | ical | predom | inance” and "enforced | obe | dience | of plan | etar | y in | fluence," where iambic feet, and even rhyme can be found. Here, poetry, the language of the stars, interrupts the vulgar prose. Within the harsh description of reality we see flashes of eternal ideals spoken in elevated poetry. Though the effect may be lost on the listener, the distinction between prose and verse is glaringly apparent to the reader. Upon close inspection of the passage, the complexity and contradictions within both Edmund and the play as a whole become apparent. The soliloquy illuminates the tension inherent in man's position as hovering precariously between the animal and the divine. The use of poetic prose to express this situation reinforces the dialectic nature of the problem, with poetry representing the heavens and prose the animal appetites. He is a man who laments being put into a position beyond his control and desires the power to improve his situation. This upward movement involves betraying the familial bonds and the compassion for others that one would assume to be natural. By disparaging Nature and reclaiming an independent agency, Edmund can sooth his conscience and act without fear of immorality. This response is not unique to Edmund, but rather is shared by many of the play’s characters. Shakespeare has presented a man meant to embody evil, yet he looks familiar- both like the personages who share his stage and also like the members of his audience. Through the use of poetic prose and skillfully subtle conceits, Edmund’s soliloquy gives the audience a picture of a tortured soul and the world that has created it. Primary Text Shakespeare, William. King Lear. Ed. R.A. Foakes. London: The Arden Shakespeare, 1997. 4 �Aristotle's Ethics: Human Nature and Sociability Celine Le Pluart-Kamm In the Nicomachean Ethics Aristotle affirms, "man is by nature a social being" (1097b6]. His association of nature and society, which are generally viewed as distinctively different and opposed to each other, presents an interesting paradox. The contradiction is further deepened when he adds that the qualities, or virtues, necessary for man to exercise his natural sociability do not arise from innately, but artificially by training. They are learned behaviors within the city. It is easy to find a tension between the two opposing states of what man is "naturally” and "socially." If, as Aristotle theorizes, nature made the city come into existence as a result of necessity or common interest and endowed its citizens solely with tendencies to act in a particular way, we can therefore infer that the choices and actions that enable these citizens to function originate not in nature, but in the city: they originate in the socialized man himself. Thus, we are led to believe that the forces and processes controlling the phenomenon of the making of the city, as well as the intrinsic and essential character of those who live in it, are independent of human volition; however, the processes of collectively creating a high level of development and pursuit of goodness are dependent on human volition. This raises again the question of the correlation between the Aristotelian views of nature and culture, and more particularly, of an important distinction about which Aristotle was not completely clear: when does one break away from the other and become unique to man? In what sense can we say that a human being is a social being? Natural or artificial, what does sociability tells us about our humanity? Aristotle's political ideas regarding human nature differ widely from thinkers who affirm that man is by nature anti-social. Contrary to Hobbes or Rousseau, for whom civil life — viz., the city — is unnatural, Aristotle positively declares that the city is a natural state for mankind. In Politics, he asserts, "it is evident that the city belongs to the class of things that exist by nature, and that man is by nature a political animal” [1253a2]. As a "political animal,” man is thus inclined to naturally seek out the company of other people. However, by defining man as a "political animal," Aristotle seems to make a crucial distinction between human and animal societies. Indeed, man is not the only "animal” to live in a community; other animals, such as elephants or wolves, live in groups, albeit in a less organized fashion. Bees or ants, however, have been observed to form organized and hierarchical societies evocative of those of humans. But the difference is, however, that humans are more 5 �"political” than these other animals. People are drawn together not only in response to basic physical needs, but to form and maintain political associations from a common interest, seeking to attain a share of the good life. In that sense, man's social endeavor is much greater than that of other animals; it is beyond the call of necessity. In fact, his sociability consists of an essential ethical component: the realization of the good life — i.e., happiness or fulfillment — that Aristotle examines in the Ethics. Aristotle thus starts the Nicomachean Ethics on the premise that society is fundamental to the nature of man. For him, to be a human being can only mean to be a social being. He goes even further in saying that a life outside the city is not that of a human but of something rather subhuman or superhuman. He he points out in Politics: The man who is isolated, who is unable to share the benefits of political association, or has no need to share because he is already self-sufficient, is no part of the city, and must therefore be either a beast or a god. (1253a25-29) This different sort of being, lacking the ability to live in association with other citizens, is thus alienated from the city's ultimate end. On one hand, he may be considered less than human: either a beast or a brute, limited by survival needs and base instinct. On the other hand, he may be considered more than human: a god, self-sufficient and perfect in every way. While acknowledging that man cannot exist in isolation, but only in relation with other fellow-citizen, Aristotle makes the claim that brutish and godlike states are in fact rare among the Greek race: And since it is rare for a man to be divine, in the same way a brutish person is also rare among human beings. The type is commonest among the non-Greek races, but some cases also occur that are due to disease or arrested development. (1145a27-31) Despite the fact that the lowly beast and the supremely happy man are both self-sufficient and can survive independently, Aristotle calls attention to the hardship of such solitary life: Now a solitary man has a hard life, because it is not easy to keep up a continuous activity by oneself; but in company with others and in relations to others it is easier. (1170a5-6) It is friendship, he writes, that brings people together. Aristotle clearly separates the miserable beast — enslaved by its own survival needs and brute instinct — from the happy man, free from any needs. In 6 �view of this, Aristotle specifies that a happy man will need virtuous friends; It is also paradoxical to represent a man of perfect happiness as a solitary; for nobody would choose to have all the good things in the world by himself, because man is a social creature and naturally constituted to live in company. (1169bl8-19) It thus becomes apparent that the development of the city evolves from the need to connect and form meaningful relationships. From this standpoint, we find a natural sociability going back to a primary joining of familial communities. Aristotle describes the emergence of the city as a natural progression: It is a generally accepted view that the perfect good is selfsufficient. By self-sufficiency we mean not what is sufficient for oneself alone living a solitary life, but something that includes parents, wife and children, friends and fellow-citizens in general; for man is by nature a social being. (1097b9-ll] Starting from the union of families to that of hamlets, the city completes, as a result, the process of unification. As it has been demonstrated, man achieves — in actuality — what living in the city has made him for, thus occupying a particular place in nature that is different from that of other animals. However, in this ultimate realization of Aristotle’s naturally sociable man, there is no discernible break that occurs between nature and the nature of man. There is, nevertheless, an apposite nature of man characterized by the faculty of reason and the ensuing acquisition of moral virtues: The moral virtues, then, are engendered in us neither by nor contrary to nature; we are constituted by nature to receive them, but their full development in us is due to habit. Again, of all those faculties with which nature endows us we first acquire the potentialities, and only later effect their actualization. (1103a24-28] Here Aristotle not only presents man as impelled by nature to live in the city, but also as being provided with a certain disposition complimentary to the duties and obligations of civil society. This is seen when making conscious choices or decisions to act toward the fulfillment of his ends. From potentiality to actuality, man must undergo a development to realize the moral virtues necessary to achieve a higher state of positivity — viz., the good life. With the use of reason, the exercise of his will gives a 7 �moral sense to his acts. In a sense, the potential for future development belongs to the realm of nature, while the formation and framework of social life belongs to the realm of will and rational thoughts. Thus, man is left to shape an enduring system of relations that serves human interests. Such enterprises then complete a socialization process that nature cannot complete for him. So, if sociability relates to nature and our inclination to live in the city, it also relates to culture and our volition to attain its ultimate end: the common good. In this way, the break between nature and the unique nature of man seems to occur during this realization of his potential. While sociability emerges as a quality unique to man due to reason and culture, it implies more than a means to a self-interested end. It tells us that we are social beings whose existence is incomplete outside a social whole. In short, Aristotle reminds us that contrary to increasingly prevalent individualist views, a human being is an unfinished being without society to help perfect his own nature. As a result of individualism, is mankind becoming more like beasts or gods? Primary Texts Aristotle. Nicomachean Ethics. Translated by J.A.K. Thomson. London: Penguin Books, 1976. Aristotle. Politics. Translated by T.A. Sinclair. London: Penguin Books, 1981. �Ge Zhichuan Moving His Dwelling Reina Lopez Wang Meng was born in Huzhou, now known as Wuxing in 1308. Scholars believe that he took informal lessons in watercolor from his grandfather, but there is no record of any formal training. At any rate, one can safely assume that Meng’s family served for generations as painters for the emperor. His was also a political family. He followed in his family tradition of official service to the government by taking a minor post for most of the 1340s. The invasion of the Mongols brought his political career to a halt and he moved to the Yellow Crane Mountains to take the studio-name "Firewood Gatherer of the Yellow Crane Mountain." He was the youngest of the great masters of the Yuan Dynasty who famously refused to serve the Mongolian rulers of his time. Because of his refusal to serve the Mongol rulers of the country, none of his works are painted on silk — all are painted on paper. With the ousting of the Mongols and the subsequent founding of the Ming dynasty in 1368, Meng returned to political office and reluctantly accepted the post of prefect in Shandong Province. A loose association with the minister Hu Weiyong (who was accused of treason and executed in 1380) caused Meng a subsequent accusation of sedition. Meng was sent to prison in 1375 where he spent the last five years of his life. Wang Meng’s style is unlike many of his contemporaries. His paintings are dense, almost cluttered, and his brush strokes pile on top of each other creating masses of color and texture. In his landscapes very little of the painting surface is left untouched by ink, creating full, almost claustrophobic, images. His most famous paintings are Forest Dwellings in Chu-ch'u and Forest Grottoes at Juqu. The exact date of the painting Ge Zhichuan Moving His Dwelling is unknown, as it was left undated by the painter. However, based on its style, many believe that it belongs to his middle period of painting in the 1360s. The painting is a hanging scroll measuring 139 x 58 cm. It is currently housed in the Palace Museum in Beijing. Based on an inscription on the painting later added by the artist, many believe that the painting was for Zucheng Rizhang, a Buddhist monk for whom the painting Forest Grottoes at Juqu was also painted. It is quite interesting (and more than a bit confusing) that Meng painted Ge Zhichuan, a prominent Daoist author, as the subject of a painting to be given to a prominent Buddhist — but this concern will be addressed later. Upon initial observation of Ge Zhichuan Moving His Dwelling, one immediately notices the density of the image. Only a small portion at the bottom left and a small band across the top of the paper are barren. Furthermore, one notices the different qualities and density of both the 9 �ink and color of the painting. Most of the black ink is diluted and used as a wash for the mountains as a light grey. Intense black ink is reserved for a few rocks near the bottom of the painting, clumps of trees in the top third of the painting, and to highlight Ge Zhichuan’s robe. Meng also makes use of different densities of color. Dense blue trees can be seen at the bottom of the painting while lighter shades of blue and red characterize the trees in the upper third of the painting. One also notices that the lighter shades of blue from the trees are echoed in the color of the distant mountains in the background. Interestingly, the only other use of the color red is found muted in the roofs of the houses and again muted in the color of the domesticated animals that Ge Zhichuan is using to assist his move. The intense red color is reserved for the prominent stamp at the top of the page, a few minor stamps to the bottom left and one to the bottom right of the painting. Looking closer at the trees, one notices that the texture of each species of tree is different yet consistent throughout the painting. Each tree is painstakingly precise and detailed. As is pointed out in 3,000 Years of Chinese Painting, Meng "draws his pictorial material — figures, trees, rocky masses — with extraordinary finesse, using dry, precise brushstrokes and avoiding all that is gestural, calligraphic, or indicative of spontaneity" (177). This lack of spontaneity implies that the artist executed the painting according to a precise agenda. It seems obvious to move from the trees to that upon which they are standing — the mountains and land. Although the mountains take up the majority of ink on the page, they are neither overbearing nor ominous. Starting at the bottom of the page, one notices that the land actually touches the very edge and essentially splits the page in half so that it marks an equal proportion of land and water. The rocks at the bottom of the page have a dark grey wash, to echo the dark grey mountains at the painting’s northernmost edge. Also, the rocks seem to have deep crevasses (marked by a pure black ink), to echo the dark black ink of the plants and shadows also in the top half of the painting. Compared to other paintings of this st>’le, Ge Zhichuan Moving His Dwelling has a striking lack of mist surrounding the mountains. This omission does two things. Firstly, it forces Meng to use different techniques to create depth in the painting; secondly, it forces the viewer to search for the specific pathway leading to the dwelling at the upper right of the painting. The artist intends the eyes’ movement toward this pathway as it prescribes a specific path to the dwelling. It gives the viewer merely one way by which we, like Ge Zhichuan himself, may reach the dwelling. To create depth in his painting, Meng uses scale and detail of trees and plants. At the bottom of the painting the trunks of each tree are 10 �meticulously detailed. At the top of the painting the trunks of the trees are less detailed. This technique is similar to that of Chao Meng-fu’s Autumn Colors on the Ch'iao and Huo Mountains. However, Ge Zhichuan Moving His Dwelling is a much more crowded image than that seen in the open plains of Autumn Colors. The composition of the mountains give the sense of a continuous sequence to create depth; however, this is more clearly observed at the top of the page where the mountains seem to stack on top of one another. By combining these two techniques, Meng plays with perspective, never allowing the viewer to settle into any one viewing mode. Rather, the viewer is constantly uncomfortable and unstable in his perspective. The unsettled viewer is obliged to search for Meng’s intended pathway up the painting. Unlike many of the paintings in which the mist between the mountains create a pathway for the eyes, Meng forces the viewer to search for his pathway — the path that Ge Zhichuan and his family are already walking. This prescribed path, and only this path, leads the viewer to the dwelling obscured by the trees in the valley. One does not dare seek another path to the dwelling, lest his eyes become lost among the mountains and trees. Looking at the bottom third of the painting, one notices that the dark rocks and the clear water are given equal value on the page. This essentially splits the painting surface area in half. From the unpainted water on the bottom left of the page, our eyes are drawn slightly upward and to the right where the water is blocked by the dark rock. Fritz van Briessen, a scholar of Chinese painting and its styles, describes this technique as "Opening and Closing” or "k'ai ho" [van Briessen, 134]. The water on the left of the painting wants to flow endlessly, thus opening the painting. This element opens up the painting in order to let it "fly free." Left unconstrained, the water would continue to flow in all directions, as it does at the left bottom, where it seems to flow off of the page. Meng, however, contains the water on the right hand side of the page with dark rocks. These rocks "close down" the openness of the water and "hold it fast" (van Briessen, 134) within its banks. The rocks also force our eyes back to the left and up the path of the water to the human subject of the painting. Interestingly, van Briessen suggests that the opposing pairs in the painting become identical at a higher level. By dividing the painting horizontally in half, we notice that Meng has given equal space to the combined water and rocks at the bottom of the page with the sky at the top of the page. In a sense, the water and rocks are identical to its mirrored sky. If we take into account that the subject of the painting (Ge Zhichuan) was a prominent Daoist, the importance of the equal and balanced yet contrasting rocks and water take on an even deeper meaning as a symbol 11 �of Yin and Yang. This symbol of eternal transition and duality illuminates a strong Daoist philosophy within the painting itself. Furthermore, the relationship between the bottom of the painting [Earth] and the top of the painting [Heaven) and the equality which Meng gives them suggests that in the balance between opposites [Yin and Yang] one can indeed find harmony, represented by Heaven, here on Earth. As our eyes are pushed left by the rocks at the bottom of the page, we come to Meng's intended path. We first notice that this path has no definite beginning. Instead, it seems to appear from behind the trees on the bottom right side of the painting. The path leads us across the bridge, on which Ge Zhichuan stands, and again disappears off to the left side of the page. The path briefly re-appears as it follows the river only to quickly disappear again to the left. We notice the footpath further up the page with a servant waiting for Ge and his family. From this point the path continues, undisturbed, to Ge's future dwelling. Ge's dwelling is nestled in a valley in the upper center left of the page. Aside from this footpath, no other entrance is visible; alas, it is a secluded and singularly accessible dwelling. The mountains surrounding the dwelling are also slightly different in character. They are characterized by darker plant life and shadows as compared to the mountains lower in the painting. The dwelling's proximity to the sky [Heaven] suggests that this dwelling in fact represents the closest that man may come to enlightenment while still grounded on earth. This would also explain why Meng violates one of the six principles of a successful painting — namely - having a path with a definite ending point. The ending point of the path, the dwelling, or enlightenment, is the final destination for man on Earth. Moving once again to the beginning of the path, we notice the subject of the painting, Ge Zhichuan and his family, at the bottom center. Ge Zhichuan stands on a bridge looking back, waiting for his wife and child on ox-back. Uncharacteristic of paintings of its type where human figures are often androgynous or of indistinguishable age, Meng deliberately gives his characters identity. Furthermore, by placing Ge's wife and child in the painting, Meng suggests that sex and age do not matter on the path to enlightenment. One can reach enlightenment regardless of gender or age provided that they are on the correct path. Our eyes easily travel from the bridge to what appears to be a servant carrying a package and then slightly upward to another servant resting by the river. This character has specifically set down his baggage to rest. He sits upright, an implication that his path has not been extremely burdensome or tiring. His upright posture suggests also that he has plenty of energy and enthusiasm for the path ahead. Following the path, we encounter a final unburdened servant waiting for the family at 12 �the dwelling. Ge and his family seem notably unencumbered and upright compared to the human figures that we observe in many other paintings, where heavy loads burden characters as they move across the painted scenes. Why does the disposition of Ge’s family stand in stark contrast to other figures of its kind? Is this the literal moving of one's dwelling, or is this a metaphorical move toward enlightenment? The location of the housing in the upper half of the page, Meng’s singular and vertical path to the dwelling, and the knowledge that Ge Zhichuan is a prominent Daoist, all suggest that his move is the latter. Van Briessen tells us that "a close examination of any good Chinese painting will reveal an intangible quality which can perhaps be best expressed by saying that the painting seems to be knit together by strong invisible threads" (130). The final portion of this paper will examine Wang Meng’s Ge Zhichuan Moving His Dwelling according to the four key principles — Dragon Veins, Host and Guest, Heaven and Earth, and Opening and Closing — which van Briessen remarks as critical to the composition of a painting. The first principle that van Briessen describes is the principle of "Dragon Veins." This term is used to describe "those invisible threads or connectives which are woven in an ingenious and complex system across a painting" (130). Dragon Veins give life to the painting. In the case of Ge Zhichuan, the Dragon Veins emerge from the mountains themselves. They can be seen in the darkest areas of ink on the page. One notices the dark ink on the character of Ge Zhichuan. This color is echoed in the vertical lines of the waterfall just above the human character and again in the dark foliage on the center mountain. These dark areas stretch the eye from the bottom of the painting to its top, seamlessly connecting each section to another. The second principle van Briessen describes is that of "Host and Guest." In this principle, "two parts of a picture are set in a relationship with each other" (130) which represent the "giving and the taking, the passive and the aggressive, and form a unit which is then set against another part of the painting in a further host-guest relationship" (130). Because of the cluttered nature of Meng’s painting, the Host and Guest principle is not accessible upon first acquaintance. Rather, we must look very closely to see how it plays a part in the painting. Van Briessen suggests that the principle can most easily be studied by looking at groups of objects. Using trees as an example van Briessen tells us that the Host tree will generally be "bent, with spread branches” (131), like a host creating space for his guest. The Guest tree is then in contrast with the host by standing "slim and straight” (131). Looking at unlike groupings, one immediately notices the contrast between the horizontal cliffs at the 13 �center left of the painting (representing the Host) and the completely vertical and smooth nature of the waterfall that represent the Guest. This micro-relationship forms another Host and Guest relationship as seen in the cliffs that extend up and to the right while the waterfall continues to act as the Guest, drawing our eyes vertically. After our eyes have reached the origin of the waterfall, we once again see a Host and Guest relationship in the valley in which Ge’s dwelling is located. Here, the dark foliage of trees creates a "V” shape in which the lighter and more pastel colored dwellings, as the guest, reside. The next principle. Heaven and Earth, deals with the vertical balance of the painting. The principle of Heaven and Earth includes the "binding together of all that is anchored to the earth and all that floats free of it” (132). Binding the vertical elements of a painting relies heavily on the use of the Dragon Veins, which were discussed earlier. The Dragon Veins connect the top and bottom portions of the painting. Furthermore, the very nature of Dragon Veins as subtly bringing the painting to life, embody that which binds together all that is anchored to the earth and all that floats free of it. The Dragon Veins are both a part of the physical painting and float free of it as well. The last principle of composition, "Opening and Closing,” was mentioned earlier in the discussion of the lower portion of the painting. However, the true nature of the principle is to connect the painting as a whole work. In this particular painting, the principle of Opening and Closing is identical with that of Host and Guest. No further discussion of Opening and Closing is needed. Through the use of meticulous detail, fastidious texture, and extreme number of brush strokes, Wang Meng created not only a masterwork of art, but a masterwork of philosophy. He cleverly juxtaposes pairs of opposites to create a living sense of balance not just to his work, but to express the importance of this equilibrium in life as well. When this balance is achieved, one is able to move his dwelling, in fact, move his life, unburdened toward enlightenment. He moves his dwelling to one that is as close to heaven as possible while remaining grounded here on earth a truly Daoist subject for a truly Daoist painter. Primary Texts Van Briessen, Fritz. The Way of the Brush: Painting Techniques of China and Japan. Boston: Tuttle Publishing, 1999. Barnhart, Richard M.; Cahill, James; Chongzheng, Nie; Hung, Wu; Shaojun, Lang. 3,000 Years of Chinese Painting. New Haven, London: Yale University Press, 1997. 14 �Reflections on Xenophon's Two Accounts of Socrates’ Last Days Clint Condra Xenophon offers us accounts of Socrates’ last days both in his Apology of Socrates to the Jury and in Book IV, chapter 8 of his Memorabilia. What are we to make of this? That this eminent student of Socrates’ simply made the mistake of repeating himself we do not consider. We assume, rather, that had Xenophon believed a single account of his teacher sufficient, he would not have left us two. That the accounts are similar yet not identical suggests that Xenophon left something of these events and their significance for the careful reader to discern. This, indeed, we take to be our task; bearing it in mind, then, let us compare and contrast the accounts for ourselves. We notice, first of all, certain broad similarities between them: each commences with a declaration of intentions; each relates a conversation between Hermogenes and Socrates that took place during the latter’s last days; each conclude with remarks in praise of Socrates.i We find the following declaration of intentions in the Apology. And regarding Socrates, it is in my opinion also worth recalling how, when he was summoned to court, he deliberated about his defense and the end of his life. Now about this others too have written, and all touched on his boastful manner of speaking — a fact which shows that Socrates really did speak in that way. But they did not make quite clear that he already believed death to be preferable to life for himself, so that his boastful speech appears to be rather imprudent. (1] Xenophon means here to disabuse readers of the notion that Socrates spoke imprudently at his trial — which notion, we gather, Xenophon believes to follow from the assumption that Socrates would have preferred life to death. In light of this, we may understand the Apology, at least in part, as Xenophon’s attempt to vindicate Socrates’ prudence by relating how and why Socrates had in fact come to believe death "to be preferable to life for himself." Following this declaration of intentions, the Apology continues with Xenophon’s relation of Hermogenes’ conversation with Socrates. Before we turn our attention to this, though, let us consider the intentions Xenophon declares in his Memorabilia. Here it is not Socrates’ prudence but rather his piety that Xenophon intends to vindicate: "And if someone thinks that he was proven to be lying about the divine thing . .. since he was condemned to death by the 15 �jurors although he claimed that the divine thing . . . signified to him beforehand what he should and should not do” (1), Xenophon declares, that person should consider certain facts in light of which condemnation and death appear to have been the best outcomes available to Socrates. For one, "he was already at the time [of his trial] so far advanced in age that his life would have ended not much later, even if not then;" moreover, by dying when he did and as he did, Socrates "left behind the part of life that is most burdensome" and "in place of this . . . acquired additional fame by displaying the strength of his soul” [1]. This strength of soul Socrates displayed in two ways — "both by stating his case most truthfully, most freely, and most justly of all human beings,” which Xenophon relates in his Apology, and "by bearing his condemnation to death most gently and most courageously” (1). It is with the latter subject that the Memorabilia continues. Specifically, Xenophon offers Socrates’ behavior during the thirtyday interval between the latter’s condemnation and his death as evidence "that no human being within memory has borne death more nobly.” For, during this time [Socrates] was visible to all his acquaintances living in no way other than during the previous time. And yet previously, of all human beings, he was most admired for living in good spirits and contentedly. (2) Xenophon next constructs a sort of chain of causation out of a series of rhetorical question marks, which we here paraphrase: because Socrates died a death most noble, he therefore died a death most happy; because he died a death most happy, he therefore died a death most dear to the gods. Now although Xenophon does not indicate how this might pertain to the matter of whether or not Socrates was lying about "the divine thing,” we have reason to take what Xenophon says here as evidence that Socrates was telling the truth: if Socrates had fabricated "the divine thing” in the hope that such a defense would help him secure his own acquittal, then during these thirty days we should have seen him either skip town, or else continue to plead his case. At the very least we should not have expected to see him "living in good spirits and contentedly.” Having now surveyed some of what precedes Xenophon’s relation of Hermogenes’ conversation with Socrates in each account, we may go on to consider with regard to Xenophon’s declared intentions, how he relates this conversation in each account. According to the Apology, Hermogenes, the son of Hipponicus,. . . was a comrade of [Socrates’] and reported about him such things as make it clear that his boastful speech fitted his purpose. For upon 16 �seeing Socrates conversing about everything rather than about the trial, this man said that he said: ‘Shouldn't you consider, Socrates, what you will say in your defense? (2-3) In the Memorabilia Xenophon writes, 1 shall tell also what I heard about [Socrates] from Hermogenes the son of Hipponicus. For he said that after Meletus had already entered the charge against him and he himself heard him conversing about everything other than the trial, he said to him that he should be examining what his defense would be. (4) In both accounts Socrates responds to this by asking whether or not it seems to Hermogenes that he, Socrates, has spent his whole life doing just this. Again, in both accounts Hermogenes responds in turn by asking how this is so. What happens next is of much interest. In the Apology Socrates answers Hermogenes by saying, "I have gone through life doing nothing unjust" (3). In the Memorabilia Socrates gives Hermogenes a fuller answer: "he said,” Xenophon relates, "that he had continuously done nothing other than thoroughly examine what the just and the unjust things are, while doing the just and refraining from the unjust” (4). What might the difference between these two answers here given by Socrates have to do with the different intentions declared by Xenophon in each account? We recall that Xenophon intends in his Apology to vindicate Socrates’ prudence — to show, that is, that Socrates’ "boastful speech fitted his purpose." Why in the Apology, then, might Socrates not have told Hermogenes that, in addition to having "gone through life doing nothing unjust," "he had continuously done nothing other than thoroughly examine what the just and the unjust things are?" The charges brought against Socrates as cited in the Apology — "that he did not believe in the gods in whom the city believes but brought in other strange daimonia and [that he] corrupted the young" (10) — may shed some light on this. Namely, perhaps Socrates in the Apology had the prudence not to mention his examination of what the just and unjust things are^: after all, as far as the Athenians are concerned, if the gods in whom they believe have told them what the just and the unjust things are, then for someone to examine these things for himself must be seen as superfluous at best — and may well be seen as evidence of impiety. Then again, if venerated human lawgivers — the likes of Solon, for instance — have bequeathed unto the present generation a time-honored account of what the just and 17 �the unjust things are, then for Socrates to encourage his followers to examine these things may well be seen as corrupting the young. We continue by comparing what comes next in the conversation of Hermogenes with Socrates in each account. The Apology reads: "Don't you see," Hermogenes tells Socrates, "that the Athenian juries, when annoyed by a speech, often killed those who did nothing unjust, and often acquitted those who acted unjustly but whose speech moved them to pity or who spoke agreeably?” Socrates said: "Yes, certainly, by Zeus, and twice already I tried to consider my defense, but the daimonion opposes me.” [4) In the Memorabilia Xenophon relates this exchange as follows: And once again, [Hermogenes] himself said, "Don't you see, Socrates, that the Athenian jurors, when annoyed by speech, have already put to death many who committed no injustice and released many who did commit injustice?” "But, by Zeus, Hermogenes,” [Socrates] said, "I have already attempted to worry about my defense to the jurors, but the divine thing [daimonion) opposed it.” [5] In the Apology Hermogenes explains how those who have acted unjustly have managed to get themselves acquitted — namely, by speaking agreeably or else in such a manner as moved juries to pity. Also in the Apology, Socrates clearly indicates to Hermogenes his awareness of this fact about Athenian juries. In the Memorabilia, however, Hermogenes does not say how those who have committed injustice have managed to get released, nor does Socrates affirm that he already knows what Hermogenes has just told him about Athenian juries. It seems to me that Xenophon's declared intention to defend Socrates' prudence in the Apology goes some way in accounting for these differences. Those who had acted unjustly yet managed to secure their own acquittal, secured it thanks to their prudence: they intended to secure their own acquittal, and they took such actions as brought to pass what they had intended. Now we have seen that Socrates, too, evidently knows of the susceptibility of juries to manipulation. Socrates, in other words, surely could speak agreeably or in such a way as moved the jurymen to pity, had he intended to secure his own acquittal. What we learn here, though, is that Socrates did not so intend. We learn, indeed, not only that Socrates did not consider his defense, but why he would not: "the daimonion opposed it.” Both of Xenophon's accounts continue with Hermogenes, for his part, telling Socrates that he says amazing things, and Socrates, for his, explaining that the gods have good reason to oppose his consideration of 18 �a defense speech. First, says Socrates, none has lived a better life than he; second, his friends and associates recognize this fact about him; third, were he to live longer he would surely have, as he puts it, "to pay the dues of old age” — that is, to suffer mental and physical decline. Now although Socrates makes these same three points in both of Xenophon's accounts, we should notice that in the Memorabilia he makes them at greater length and in a more philosophical manner. In the Apology, for instance, Socrates states the first two of his three points as follows: Don’t you know that up to this time 1 never conceded to anyone that he had lived better than 1? For — a thing which is very pleasant — 1 knew that 1 had lived my whole life piously and justly, so that, while greatly admiring myself, I found that my associates recognized the same things about me. (5) In the Memorabilia, by contrast, Socrates includes in the first of his points a general claim regarding the relationship between the good and the pleasant: "For 1 think that those live best who best attend to becoming as good as possible, and that those live most pleasantly who perceive that they are becoming better" (6]. As for his second point, Socrates in the Apology merely mentions that his "associates recognized the same things” about him, whereas in the Memorabilia he also asserts that it is because his associates recognized the benefits they could attain by being in his company that they sought and kept it: it is not, says Socrates, because they love me [for those who love the others could also make the same judgment about their own friends), but for the very reason that they think that by being in my company they themselves, too, would become best. (7) With respect to his third point, finally, Socrates says in the Apology that if my age will advance further, I know that it will be necessary to pay the dues of old age, to see and hear less well and to learn with more difficulty and to be more forgetful of what 1 have learned. And if 1 perceive that 1 am becoming worse and 1 find fault with myself, how ... could 1 still live pleasantly? (6) In the Memorabilia Socrates says this much, but pronounces also that "for one who did perceive” that he was becoming worse at things at which he formerly was better, "life would not be worth living" (8). It seems to me that the differences here, like those we have seen before, follow from the differences between Xenophon’s declared intentions: what Socrates omits here in the Apology reflects Xenophon’s 19 �declared intention to vindicate Socrates’ prudence. How, though, do Socrates’ fuller answers in the Memorabilia reflect the intentions Xenophon declares in that account? Recall that earlier Socrates told Hermogenes that he had "gone through life doing nothing unjust," whereas in the Memorabilia he told him that "he had continuously done nothing other than thoroughly examine what the just and the unjust things are, while doing the just and refraining from the unjust.” The thorough examination of what the just and the unjust things are pertains, I say, to the virtue of philosophical human being, and it is as a virtuous philosophical human being that Xenophon intends to present Socrates in the Memorabilia. This interpretation also explains Xenophon’s inclusion in the Memorabilia of Socrates’ fuller, more philosophical statements regarding why the gods were right to oppose the consideration of a defense speech: it is as a philosophical human being that Socrates has determined that "those live most pleasantly who most perceive that they are becoming better." It is, moreover, Socrates the philosophical human being who asserts that the life of anyone who fails to perceive that he is becoming worse at things at which he formerly was better is not a life worth living. We have established that Xenophon intends in his Apology and Memorabilia to vindicate Socrates’ prudence and his piety, respectively. Consider how Socrates defends himself against the charge that "he did not believe in the gods in whom the city believes but brought in other strange daimonia" {Apology, 10]. He cites, first, his performance of public sacrifices as evidence of his belief in the city’s gods. Whether this amounts to a sufficient defense, though, is not clear — one might object, for instance, that a man could perform public sacrifices that felt no true piety in his heart. Next, in addressing the notion that he had "brought in strange daimonia,” Socrates claims that there is nothing strange about his "saying that a sound from a god manifests itself’ to him, "indicating what ought to be done” (12); birds, oracles, and thunderclaps he offers as familiar examples of sounds and sights understood to have divine significance. He goes on: But doubtless both that the god knows what will be and that he forewarns whom he wishes — with respect to this too all say and believe just as I say. Yet, whereas others name what forewarns them 'birds’ and ‘sayings,’ and 'signs’ and prophets,’ I call this a 'daimonion’ and I think that in naming it thus I speak both more truthfully and more piously than those who attribute to the birds the power of the gods. (13) 20 �1 say that Socrates’ prudence partially explains his speech here. Though he does not name any of the city's gods as the source of the sound that manifests itself to him, Socrates emphasizes in his speech the familiarity of his practice of receiving and interpreting sounds as omens. He does not assert himself to be a pious believer in the city’s gods, but he certainly defends his piety — he seems, in fact, to claim a higher piety "than those who attribute to the birds the power of the gods.” In order fully to account for the things Socrates says here, we must also bring considerations of his piety to bear upon them. We know, for a start, that according to Xenophon, "the divine thing signified to [Socrates] beforehand what he should and should not do." In particular, we know that Socrates submitted to the divine thing’s opposition to the consideration of a defense speech. But of what exactly does such a submission consist for Socrates? A few lines later, upon declaring to the jurymen what Apollo had told Chaerephon about him, he responds to their clamor thusly: "Nevertheless, do not rashly believe the god even in these things, but examine one by one the things the god said” (15). From this we might infer something of an answer to our question. Namely, Socrates’ submission to a divine pronouncement is either confirmed by, or else comes only after, an inquiry into the truth of that pronouncement. In this case, Apollo had pronounced to Chaerophon that "no human being was more free, more just, or more moderate” (14) than Socrates. Here in his trial Socrates, having thoroughly examined the pronouncement, offers the jurymen several carefully-considered reasons why he accepts it. All this leads us to a more basic question. We have just seen Socrates affirm the truth of a pronouncement of Apollo’s; yet, we have also seen that Socrates does not call the sound that manifests itself to him by any other name than "the daimonion,” "the divine thing,” or else, as in the following instance, by the even more vague designation "the gods.” Can we make any sense of Socrates’ piety? We might begin by asking why Socrates listens to and trusts the daimonion. How does he know that it does not intend to do him harm? Consider what Socrates says to Hermogenes here: And the gods were correctly opposing the consideration of my defense speech ... at that time when it seemed that we must seek the means of acquittal in every way. For it is clear that, had I accomplished this, instead of presently ending my life, I would have arranged to end it while being pained by sicknesses or by old age, where all the difficult and cheerless things converge. (8) At first, we gather, it had seemed to Socrates that "we” — Socrates and the daimonion, perhaps? — "must seek the means of acquittal in 21 �every way." Then, though, the daimonion indicated to Socrates its opposition to this — at which time Socrates undertook to figure out the reasons for this opposition, and since which time he has amassed many reasons why "the gods were correctly opposing the consideration of [his] defense speech." By examining the pronouncement of the daimonion for himself, in accordance with his understanding of piety as something other than mere "rash belief," Socrates determined that the god meant well. He determined, in a word, that the daimonion was a providential one to be listened to and trusted whether or not it could be identified.^ Now this hardly solves the mystery of Socrates' piety; nor could we aspire so to solve it in our concluding remarks. It seems to me, though, that by making a distinction between kinds of piety — between, that is, a higher, philosophical kind and a lower, conventional one, as I call them — something about Xenophon’s intentions becomes at least a little clearer. We have seen, on one hand, that Xenophon intends in his Memorabilia to vindicate Socrates’ piety; on the other hand, we have seen in the Apology that rather than asserting that he believes in the gods in whom the city believes, Socrates attempts to show how his daimonion communicates things to him in much the same way that the gods communicate things to others through certain sounds and sights. We have also seen Socrates in the Apology distinguish between piety and mere rash belief and claim a higher piety for himself than those could claim who "attribute to the birds the power of the gods." Rash belief and the reading of divine signs into the movements and cries of birds we suppose to belong to conventional piety. Precisely what Xenophon intends to show in his Memorabilia, 1 contend, is that Socrates’ philosophical piety lies at the core of his virtue as a philosophical being;"* the whole of Socrates’ philosophical activity stems from a pious impulse. It should not surprise us that the philosophical piety we attribute to Socrates is not necessarily compatible with conventional piety — Socrates is on trial for his life here, after all. What Socrates has to say in the Apology about his own piety does suggest, though, that he intended to present himself, his piety, and the philosophical activity inspired by his piety as at least compatible with convention. As Xenophon explains. On the one hand, Socrates at that time made it his goal above all else to appear neither impious as regards gods nor unjust as regards human beings; and, on the other hand, that he did not think that he ought to hold out against dying but believed that it was even an opportune moment for him to die then. (22-3] We recall that Xenophon means to show in the Apology how Socrates’ "boastful speech fitted his purpose." Here, Xenophon seems to state that 22 �purpose explicitly. Though he had been charged with not believing in the gods of the city and with corrupting the youth of the city, Socrates made it his purpose to appear pious qua pious as regards gods and just qua just as regards human beings. In light of the verdict we may ask whether Socrates failed so to appear or whether the jurymen convicted him despite his so appearing. The second of these possibilities seems to me both more plausible and more interesting — more plausible, because Socrates does make himself appear neither impious as regards gods nor unjust as regards human beings; more interesting, in that the second case leads us to raise a question of utmost importance. It is a question that, I gather, Xenophon intended to raise in the mind of the careful reader: Can philosophy and convention be reconciled? Consider Socrates' self-defense against the charge of corrupting the young. Asserting that all the men present "know what corruptions of the young are,” Socrates asks Meletus outright whether he can name anyone who, under Socrates' influence, "has gone from piety to impiety, or from moderation to insolence, or from temperate living to extravagance, or . . . who has yielded to another base pleasure” (19). The exchange goes on: "But by Zeus,” declared Meletus, "I know those whom you have persuaded to obey rather than their parents!”/ "As regards education, at least,"' [Hermogenes said that] Socrates declared, "I admit it. For they know that this has been an object of care to me. But as regards health, human beings obey doctors rather than their parents. And doubtless in the assemblies, at least, all the Athenians obey those who speak most sensibly rather than their relatives. In fact, don't you elect as generals whomever you believe to be most sensible in matters of war, in preference to both fathers and brothers — by Zeus, even in preference to yourselves?”/ "For this way, Socrates,” [he said that] Meletus declared, "is both advantageous and customary.” (20) Here we have it: As advantageous as it may be for human beings to entrust their education to those for whom education has been an object of great care, the fact remains that among Athenians, education is conventionally understood to be the prerogative of parents. If we may take the sentiment here expressed by Meletus to represent the general sentiment of the Athenian jurymen, then we may conclude that Socrates aroused against himself the full force of a certain visceral attachment to custom, the likes of which one finds in all conservative societies.^ Indeed, it has not been made clear that Socrates' philosophical activity posed no 23 �threat to customary Athenian piety and educational practice; thus, we cannot simply say that the force of custom ought to yield to philosophical activity. We ought, instead, to take away from our brief investigations here an appreciation of the problem at hand: custom and philosophy are both good things, but how might we reap the benefits of the one without giving up those of the other? Endnotes 1. We have largely confined our considerations to the first two of these three broad similarities. 2. Or else, at least, Xenophon had Socrates omit mention of it, in accordance with his intention to vindicate Socrates’ prudence. 3. That Socrates calls the sound by no single specific name suggests to me that he simply cannot name it—and that he refers to it obliquely out of a certain pious agnosticism: "Something divine speaks to me, 1 know not what," Socrates might think to himself. 4. Indeed, in the remarks in praise of Socrates with which the Memorabilia concludes, Xenophon lists Socrates’ piety first in a list of seven of Socrates’ virtues [1 !)• 5. By "all conservative societies" I suppose I mean all societies that, unlike our own, emphasize the upholding of ancestral ways over that willingness to adapt to change without which the realization of a theoretically better future would not be possible. Two familiar cases come to mind, both from the American musical theater: Harold Hill ingratiates himself with the stubborn lowans by posing as a defender things old-fashioned against things newfangled; Tevye chooses to disown his daughter rather than accept her marriage to a Gentile. Primary Text Xenophon. Apology of Socrates to the Jury. In The Shorter Socratic Writings, translated by Robert C. Bartlett. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996. �What Nature Contributes to Character Natalie Plowman 7 walk: I prefer walking." —Anne Elliot In both Persuasion and Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen draws a clear distinction between the roles of nature and the roles of society in an individual’s personal life. Austen implies that positive influences on the characters occur in nature, while stifling and oppressive influences occur within the confines of society. What is it that each of these environments (nature and society) signify, and how do they each sway the decisions and define the characters of the two novels’ heroines? In both novels, the act of walking is highly significant. In Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth is distinguished from other characters by her affinity for walking. In one of the first instances that the reader is acquainted with Elizabeth’s love for walking, Darcy begins to see Elizabeth in a different light. When Elizabeth arrives at Netherfield, having walked three miles to get there, Mr. Darcy is "divided between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as to the occasion’s justifying her coming so far alone" [Pride, 22). Here the reader can detect not only Darcy’s growing esteem for Elizabeth, but also his concern for her well-being. Walking seems to differentiate Elizabeth from the rest of her family, who are perceived as ridiculous by Darcy, and from the rest of her peers. This singularity of character seems to draw Darcy to her. Walking in Pride and Prejudice also draws Elizabeth and Darcy closer together in a more intimate way. While at Rosings, Elizabeth continues to enjoy her walks outside. However: more than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble within the park, unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy. She felt all the perverseness of the mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought, and, to prevent its ever happening again, took care to inform him at first that it was a favorite haunt of hers. How it could occur a second time, therefore, was very odd! Yet it did, and even a third. [Pride, 127) While Elizabeth does not yet fully grasp Darcy’s motive for wanting to be with her, these walks are important in driving the novel’s plot. The reader witnesses Darcy’s attempt to get closer to Elizabeth as seen by the fact 25 �that Darcy clearly knows where he might find Elizabeth, and makes an obvious effort to join her there. Elizabeth is on a walk when Darcy gives her the letter containing the contents that mark the turning point of the novel. It is while Elizabeth is outside walking that she is exposed to Darcy's true character. Elizabeth sees Darcy as he truly is while she is reading the contents of his letter, both delivered and read outside. One of the most crucial moments of the novel, Elizabeth's realization of who Darcy is, happens in a natural setting. Austen is clearly making a statement that one's true character is revealed when in a natural, uninhibited, unrestrictive setting, far removed from the pressures of society. Another key scene in the novel in which Elizabeth is walking, is where she encounters Darcy at Pemberley. As the two of them (in addition to the Gardiners] are walking along the Pemberley grounds, "Mr. Darcy took [Mrs. Gardiner's] place by her niece, and they walked on together ... they now walked on in silence, each of them deep in thought. Elizabeth was not comfortable; that was impossible; but she was flattered and pleased” [Pride, 175], Elizabeth realizes here that Darcy still wants her to be acquainted with his sister. She begins to wonder at his civility and his intentions with regard to the introduction of someone so dear to him. Here the reader sees that there is still a spark of hope for a romantic union between the two of them. Perhaps a reason that the two are reunited outdoors and through a walk on the grounds of Pemberley is to draw the distinction between the influences of being outside in a neutral and less hostile environment as compared with the confinement of the indoors and society. This walk outside also allows Elizabeth to associate Darcy's character with his property. Darcy's land is beautiful, spacious (generous], and Elizabeth "longed to explore its windings” (173]. Here, Elizabeth begins to see Darcy's character through his land. Elizabeth sees the beauty and generosity of both Pemberley and Darcy's character. Her longing to explore more in this passage refers not only to Pemberley itself and the walks outside, but also to Elizabeth's longing to explore more of Darcy's character. In each of these walking scenes in Pride and Prejudice, essential steps are taken for Elizabeth and Darcy to unite. Darcy sees Elizabeth's beauty through her love of walking; Elizabeth is introduced to Darcy's genuine character; and the two of them are able to make silent amends while walking on his property. These scenes reveal that there is something meditative and reflective about walking, and it is the characters who most love walking outside that are more self-aware because of this very ability to reflect quietly, unrestrained by the noises of society. This selfawareness is what allows them to perceive other characters in the novel 26 �accurately, as seen in the fact that both Elizabeth and Darcy can see one another’s character more clearly in nature. Waking is portrayed with equal significance in Austen’s novel Persuasion. The protagonist, Anne, is another character who seems to revel in walking in the outdoors. In Persuasion, too, it is outdoors that the critical moments of the novel take place. The first walking scene depicts the Musgroves walking with Anne and Wentworth. On this walk, Wentworth learns from Louisa that Anne had refused another man in his absence: a significant element in sparking hope in Wentworth that perhaps Anne can be won over again. Anne herself is also privy to this conversation between Louisa and Wentworth; and, therefore, is also aware that Wentworth now has intimate knowledge of her love life during his absence. Anne "saw how her own character was considered by Captain Wentworth, and there had been just that degree of feeling and curiosity about her in his manner which must give her extreme agitation" [Persuasion, 1088). Again, when two individuals are walking outside, there seem to be revelations about the true characters that society seems to obscure. It is as if being outdoors allows Anne and Wentworth to unmask the facades that society implements so that true character studies may take place. While Anne is walking with her party outside at Lyme, both Mr. Elliot and Wentworth [as a product of Mr. Elliot’s attention) notice Anne looking "remarkably well; her very regular, very pretty features, having the bloom and freshness of youth restored by the fine wind which had been blowing on her complexion" [Persuasion, 1096). This walk introduces Mr. Elliot. Because of Elliot’s attentions toward Anne, Wentworth also notices her. The walk illuminates to Wentworth Anne’s true beauty, a beauty that he presumed had altered. This walk also seems instrumental in restoring some confidence in Anne’s character. This is the first time that both the reader and Anne are able to witness Wentworth really noticing Anne again. This encounter produces confidence in Anne, who had previously been so reserved and shy. This confidence adds to her attractive countenance; being outdoors, Anne is ‘restored’ by nature. Thus, nature here seems to have a healing ability. Also in Lyme, on the walk during which Louisa is injured, Anne’s strength of character is highlighted. Louisa’s immaturity and unchecked spontaneity reveals to Wentworth her undesirable qualities. The incident only seems to strengthen his opinion of Anne. Anne is quick to jump to action when Louisa is injured, and she becomes a leader during the upsetting event. Wentworth acknowledges that there is "no one so proper, so capable as Anne" to care for Louisa [Persuasion, 1101). The reader, in addition to Anne herself, is able to see Wentworth’s high esteem for, and even dependence upon, Anne in this situation. The 27 �unfortunate events of the walk give Anne more of the confidence that she needs to emerge from her meek and melancholy shell, and this gives Wentworth another glimpse of the strength of Anne’s character. These walks outside seem instrumental in revealing more of Anne to Wentworth, and in restoring Anne’s youth and vitality. These components are necessary for Wentworth to be able to renew his sentiments for Anne. The walk at the end of the novel allows Anne and Wentworth to finally discuss the events of the past eight and a half years and they ultimately become engaged. Until this point, communication between the two has been fraught with complications. Anne never seems to be able to speak to Wentworth in public. Whether this fact is owing to the restrictive societal expectations of manners or her reserved personality is difficult to determine. Each time the two have a conversation it seems incomplete and uncomfortable. When the two are walking outside at the close of the novel, the "quiet and retired gravel walk" gave way to a "power of conversation [that] would make the present hour a blessing indeed” (1168]. It seems that Anne and Wentworth are only able to have an unrestricted and open conversation when they are walking together outside and removed from society. As they walk, they are "heedless of every group around them” (1168). Over the course of the entire novel Anne and Wentworth have clearly needed to discuss their past in order to move on to the future. However, it is only when they are outside walking together that they are able to clear away misconceptions and verbally renew their affections for one another. It seems that a barrier is removed once they are outdoors. This alludes to Austen’s notion that there are restrictions on communication in society, and that two people can only speak honestly and openly when they are outside and removed from these constraints. The descriptions of landscape, in addition to the walks outside, seem to coincide with the internal experience of the characters. In Pride and Prejudice, the description of Pemberley is sensual, tranquil and full of vitality. They "entered a beautiful walk by the side of the water, and every step was bringing forward a nobler fall of ground, or a finer reach of the woods to which they were approaching” (Pr/c/e, 173). The words ‘nobler’ and ‘finer’ as applied to Darcy’s land seem to have double meaning: not only is the land noble and fine, but so is Darcy himself, which Elizabeth can now see all the more clearly. Though Pride and Prejudice does not seem to contain as much figurative language as Persuasion, there are moments at Pemberley where the figurative language seems quite direct. Austen describes the walking party as they 28 �ascended some of the higher grounds; whence, in spots where the opening of the trees gave the eye power to wander, were many charming views of the valley, the opposite hills, with the long range of woods overspreading many, and occasionally part of the stream. {Pride,173) Immediately following this description, Mr. Darcy himself appears upon the scene. It seems significant that the group is "ascends” to a spot where the opening of trees allows a clearer view of the estate. Elizabeth expresses that she wishes she could explore the land more. Immediately after she says this, Darcy appears. Austen seems to be connecting the eye­ opening view of the landscape with Elizabeth’s eye-opening tour of Mr. Darcy (revealed through his property). The life and vitality of the hills and stream seem to be connected with a sort of rebirth of Elizabeth's character. She is shy and restrained in this part of the novel, blushing frequently, and this is a new side of Elizabeth for the reader. With the assistance of nature (the views and the introspection), the characters seem to be able to take the steps that they need in order to view others more clearly and fairly. Nature seems to lift the veil that society drapes over a person’s eyes, clouding vision and judgment. Outside, Elizabeth can see Darcy with clarity. In Persuasion, the description of Lyme seems intentional, since it stands out as the most descriptive passage of nature in the novel. The group is in Lyme late in the year with "its old wonders and new improvements” {Persuasion, 1091). Additionally, Austen writes about Lyme in a way that seems parallel to Anne herself. Austen claims that "these places must be visited, and visited again, to make the worth of Lyme understood” (1091). Anne, too, is later in her life (as far as social expectations regarding marriage are concerned). Anne might still have her "old wonders” but also some "new improvements.” Perhaps Anne, too, needs to be seen again and again by Wentworth in order to make him appreciate the fact that he still loves her, and that she has not altered as much as he initially thought. The description of Lyme is in direct contrast with that of Bath. Lyme is described as "luxuriant,” "sweet,” "pleasant,” "cheerful,” "romantic,” "beautiful,” and "unwearied” {Persuasion, 1096). The diction in this passage conveys that Lyme, a place associated with nature, has a certain charm about it. Nature also seems to be associated with romance, according to this passage. Perhaps that is another reason why the couples in the novels seem to connect with one another in the outdoors. It is in Lyme, after all, that Wentworth’s sentiments toward Anne become more apparent. Lyme is also the place where Anne regains "animation of the eye" (1096) and a healthy glow that is attractive to 29 �Wentworth as well as to Mr. Elliot. Lyme’s natural setting is necessary in order to bring Anne back to life, and more into Wentworth’s notice. In contrast with the scenes that occur outdoors in a natural setting, the events that take place indoors seem to be full of misunderstanding and oppression. While the characters can be more open and uninhibited with one another in a setting of nature, they are under more rigid guidelines for how to behave when in the company of others. These societal expectations stifle characters from speaking what is honestly on their minds. Similarly, these expectations allow for misunderstandings to occur and negatively influence the opinions regarding the personalities of other characters. In Pride and Prejudice, the social balls seem to serve as catalysts for negative impressions and influences. The first time that Darcy and Elizabeth are acquainted, Mr. Darcy’s character is determined within minutes by his company. He pleases his company until "his manners gave a disgust which turned the tide of his popularity; for he was discovered to be proud ... his character was decided. He was the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world, and everybody hoped that he would never come there again” [Pride, 6). The hyperbole of Mr. Darcy being the most disagreeable man in the world seems to underscore the absurdity of the situation. Though Mr. Darcy’s manners may not have been what they should, to write him off immediately seems extreme. Yet the whole of society seems content with their judgment of him, and his character is established firmly amongst them without much of any verbal dialogue between society and Mr. Darcy. There is also the moment at the ball when Mr. Darcy first sees Elizabeth and asserts that Elizabeth is "not handsome enough to tempt [him]” [Pride, 7]. Immediately, Elizabeth is left with a negative impression of him. Because he is so quick to judge her, she is also quick to judge him. There is a certain way that one is expected to act at these balls or social gatherings, and because Mr. Darcy is uncomfortable in this setting, and does not behave as he should, his character is misunderstood. Though Darcy’s personality needs some finetuning before the novel is over, his character is something constant. It seems sirnply to be oppressed in a societal setting where certain behaviors are expected of him. Society obscures a person’s true character because of the restraints and expectations placed upon him or her. Again, at the Netherfield ball, Elizabeth and Darcy have a negative encounter with each other. Though their dance together has some flirtatious moments, the discussion quickly turns sour when Elizabeth addresses the subject of Darcy’s character. While Elizabeth attempts to keep the conversation light, she misreads Darcy’s responses and upsets him. Darcy takes the conversation more seriously and does not accept or pick up on Elizabeth’s attempt to lighten the conversation. Elizabeth’s 30 �misreading of his character leads to his cold reply, and so they "parted in silence; on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree" {Pride, 67). If the two of them had been able to talk freely and openly, or had been able to understand each other better, then perhaps this misunderstanding might not have occurred. In Persuasion, society’s negative affects on Anne are clearly illustrated. Bath is synonymous with society, and Anne's general dislike of the city ties in with its negative atmosphere. Austen writes. When Lady Russell not long afterwards, was entering Bath on a wet afternoon, and driving through the long course of streets from the Old Bridge to Camden Place, amidst the dash of other carriages, the heavy rumble of carts and drays, the bawling of newspapermen, muffin-men and milkmen, and the ceaseless clink of patens, she made no complaint . . . Anne did not share these feelings. She persisted in a very determined, though very silent disinclination for Bath; caught the first dim view of the extensive buildings, smoking in the rain, without any wish of seeing them better. {Persuasion, 1111) The diction in this passage highlights the filth, distraction and noise of Bath. The 'bawling,' the 'ceaseless clink’ and the 'heavy rumble’ of the city do not seem to allow for the openness and solitude that a place like Lyme does. There is a sharp contrast between the rain and the smoke, the noise of the city and the silence of nature. This passage also draws a distinction between Lady Russell (society) and Anne (nature). Here, the reader sees Anne’s opposition to the city and the society that it holds. In Bath, she is reunited with her father and sister, whose company is undesirable. Associated with Bath is also Mr. Elliot, who represents manipulation and deceit. Lady Russell, despite looking out for Anne, represents persuasion, or dissuasion, another negative impact of society. In Bath, Anne is reunited with all of these stifling influences. Though Anne is also able to reconnect with Wentworth in Bath, it happens outside of society, within a letter and outside on their walk. When Wentworth cannot seem to speak to Anne because of their present company, he writes her a letter instead. In this scene, Anne has just remarked to Captain Harville that women "live at home, quiet, confined, and [their] feelings prey upon [them]” (1163). Here again we see the in-doors and the home are associated with confinement. Wentworth’s assertion that he "can listen no longer in silence” (1166) implies that he cannot speak within the confines of their present society. In order to make his feelings understood, he "must speak to [her] by such means as are within [his] reach” (1166). The only way to do so appears to 31 �be through the written word, as it is isolated from the presence of the others. Again, this scene reveals that the characters do not feel that they can be themselves in the company of others because such society encourages a certain way to behave. Wentworth chooses to do so in the seclusion of a letter, the reading of which allows the two characters to finally communicate. A person's voice is unable to be heard in society, so Anne must be able to find another way to express herself. Austen reveals the options of nature and of the written word as means of expressing oneself. Austen reveals that within each of her heroines, Elizabeth and Anne, there appears to be an element of nature. Anne is closely associated with autumn. Anne does not want to leave Kellynch during the fall because of the "influence so sweet and so sad of the autumnal months in the country" [Persuasion, 1058). There is a link between the sweetness and sadness of Anne and of autumn. Anne is older, and a little bit past the prime marrying age, and there is a certain melancholy about her that is linked with the passing of seasons into autumn. Anne’s patience and sweetness are represented in the month of autumn. Wentworth has an element of nature within him, too, as a captain. He spends a good portion of his time on the sea in unpredictable and sometimes harsh climates. This seems to tie into his character as well, being unpredictable and sometimes harsh toward Anne. These harsh and unpredictable elements of personality relate to the harsh and unpredictable qualities of nature. Darcy, too, with his land and property at Pemberley, seems to be fairly immersed in nature. Austen demonstrates • that each character that enters into a successful relationship must be in tune with some element of nature. Elizabeth’s character seems to be attached to spring and summer and the playfulness and liveliness of the two seasons. When she is at Pemberley and meets Darcy there, the season seems to be late spring or early summer. Her adventurous spirit is connected with travel and being outdoors: ‘My dear, dear aunt,’ she rapturously cried, 'what delight! what felicity! You give me fresh life and vigor. Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are men to rocks and mountains?’ [Pride, 108) Elizabeth’s statement "what are men to rocks and mountains?" seems to indicate the recognition of the insignificance of mankind in comparison with nature. Maybe Austen is saying that a hero or heroine must have the ability to look past the trivial events that occur within society, and be able to realize the smallness of such trifles in comparison with nature. 32 �There is something of nature in each of our lives, and a lack of connection to this natural side, often caused by the haze of society's influences and expectations, can prevent a person from seeing or behaving what and how he or she should. It seems that Austen highlights this notion in her heroines. Elizabeth and Anne are successful in their relationships with Wentworth and Darcy due to their relationship with nature. It is outside, in the uncluttered environment of nature, that the two women can see the characters of Darcy and Wentworth clearly. Furthermore, it is outside, in nature, that the two women appear most attractive to Darcy and Wentworth. Darcy and Wentworth choose to express themselves openly in letters, also a method of communication that is removed from society. Nature restores vitality to both Anne (at Lyme] and Elizabeth (on her trip with the Gardiners). Being outdoors brings health and life to these characters. What is it exactly about nature that Austen saw as such a positive influence on her characters? It is very evident that both Elizabeth and Anne are unique because of their relationships with nature. Is it just the meditative quality of nature that can allow for introspection that guides clarity and earnest behavior? Is it that one must be able to disengage from society in order to make decisions that are healthy and right for one’s self? Or is there something else, something more powerful, that Austen saw in nature and was trying to communicate through her heroines? Primary Texts Austen, Jane. Persuasion. In Jane Austen. Seven Novels: Complete and Unabridged. China: Barnes & Noble Publishing, Inc., 2006. �No Country for Old Men: Does Kant’s Categorical Imperative Have Any Place in the American Political Ethos? Jeffrey Allen 1804 was a remarkable year on both the Continent and in the Americas. It was a year that saw Thomas Jefferson purchase almost a million square miles of the North American continent from recently crowned Emperor Napoleon — an area that Meriwether Lewis and William Clark set out to explore almost immediately. It was also the year that saw the deaths of both Immanuel Kant and Alexander Hamilton, two men whose worlds were nearly as different as their fields of labour. Immanuel Kant (b. 1724) lived in Konigsberg, Prussia during his entire life, concerning himself with philosophy, metaphysics, and ethics. Alexander Hamilton (b. 1755/57), was born in the Caribbean and moved to the colonies in the 1770s, fighting in the American Revolution and embarking on a political career thereafter. Hamilton, along with James Madison and John Jay, produced a series of articles, now popularly termed The Federalist Papers, in support of the United States Constitution in 1787 and 1788. These argued for a stronger central government to preserve the union between the States, as well as the internal strengths of the Constitution as it pertained to governance and the good of the public.i 1804 was also witness to another event — the impending arrival to a French aristocratic family of a baby boy, one who would visit America just 27 years later and write the famous Democracy in America, Alexis de Tocqueville (d. 1859).2 He also took up the political life, offering not only the aforementioned work, but several others in his lifetime. These three primary figures — Kant, Hamilton, and Tocqueville — are introduced as representatives of the discussion herein. Kant, in his Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysics of Morals, offers the 'Categorical Imperative,’ an ethical consideration on whether an action can be judged to be moral. Regarding the essential elements of this Imperative is that it must be based on volition, "not from the purpose which is to be attained by it,”^ and that this action, done from duty, must have as its sole object a "pure respect’’^ for the law. The test, then, according to Kant, is that any maxim "should become a universal law,”5 and this without condition. Says Kant in his footnotes: "A maxim is the subjective principle of volition."^ In other words, a maxim is that which one wills to do, and is regarded as moral even if the outcome is detrimental to one's own interest. Thus, for Kant, morality can never be decided by empirical data; it must exist a priori. 34 �From this basis, we ought to (pun intended] consider how this Categorical Imperative figures into the American experience, if at all. Do the founding documents of the United States yield any reliance upon the ethical considerations of Kant? Are there incompatibilities between Kant and early American political writers? One area of congruence between Kant and early American documents is the self-evidentiary nature of human reason. Part of Kant’s argument is based in the fact that men have a general sense of right and wrong, even if ignorance and innocence are ultimately barriers to a sufficient understanding of morality.^ In Federalist Paper No. 49, Madison echoes these ideas by stating that "it is the reason, alone, of the public, that ought to control and regulate the government. The passions ought to be controlled and regulated by the government.''^ Madison is arguing that checks within the separate branches of the government are necessary to avoid a legislature that creates laws based on the whims of the populace. This seems to approach a Kantian view of morality as external to the individual, rather than a view of ethics that is determined by contingencies. Madison and Kant part company very quickly, however, in light of Federalist Paper No. 50, titled "Periodical Appeals to the People Considered.” Kant’s moral imperative concerns itself with timeless, universal realities, whereas Madison’s maxim on government is still subject to the review of the governed. Thus, the American people can alter the form of certain legislation, creating a contingent base for law. The idea of a contingent moral base for law is found throughout the Declaration of Independence. The words "necessary” and "ought” are both used twice to describe the actions of the colonies against the abuses of the King of Great Britain. "Right” and "rights” are even more significant, mentioned fourteen times, serving as a basis for their present actions. But these are contingent imperatives (what Kant would call hypothetical], rather than categorical, for they are not universal in their application. Within the present ethical dilemma, the British colonies are stating their grievances against (perceived or real] slights by the British government. There is not a universal maxim in this case, especially at a political level (though one could perhaps make a case with regard to these "certain unalienable Rights ... among these Life ...,” though this argument may be rife with contingencies]. The colonists could have chosen a number of different methods to address their situation; ultimately, they would choose revolution. However, couching their decisions in terms of "ought" and "right” does up the ante by making a moral claim. This leads to what is perhaps the most significant difference between Kantian philosophy and early American political philosophy: the shift from a universal good to the public good and ultimately to a private good. 35 �As was discussed earlier, Kant has developed a system of ethics that is based on an external, universal good. Certain elements must be present in order to ascertain whether an action is moral, and all of this is geared toward a view of the common good. The relationship to the whole can be found in Kant’s discussion on the "kingdom of ends," where each member is both the giver of universal laws and subject to the same.^ Thus, no one would create a society in which they would be at an advantage over another, for the same rule would apply to all. What this offers is an inherent dignity of the individual, an idea that allows for the necessary autonomy of the will to establish moral imperatives. This autonomy of the individual and subsequent free moral agency of the individual (a necessary corollary of reasonjio is an idea echoed in the founding documents of the United States. The Declaration of Independence puts forth a view of humanity with "certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness." This is a government designed around the idea that the good of the whole is the good of the individual within the corporate body. This can be seen in the opening statement of the Declaration, when "it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another." The colonists believed that their well-being was counter to what the British crown desired, and felt that the good of the colonies was at odds with the good of the state. The Declaration, the United States Constitution, and the writing of Hamilton all attest to the good of the national whole, citing "Union," "Justice," "Tranquility," "Welfare," and "Liberty,"ii as well as "political safety and happiness."i2 By the time of Tocqueville’s publication of Democracy in America in 1835, a different sort of "good" was present in the American ethos. Interestingly, Tocqueville begins his tome with the poignant remark that it was the "equality of social conditions"i3 that was so remarkable during his visit. This seems to serve as a testament to the political good of the whole, but his reflections on the decentralized character of the country's government sheds light on a distinctly American characteristic, that of the good of the individual. In comparing township and county, he writes that "county and township are founded upon the same idea, namely that each man is the best judge of his own interest and the best able to provide for his own private needs."!'* Whereas Hamilton and Madison saw in the Constitution the establishment of a restrained, orderly republic, Tocqueville's exploration of early America seems to yield a democracy characterized by the "sovereignty of the people."!^ This present dialogue has offered the opportunity to explore some of the basic differences between Kantian ethics and American political philosophy. What we may surely say is that both are concerned with questions of "ought," and "good," though the later one gets in the 36 �American experience, the more these questions privilege the individual over the whole. Ethical considerations are not absent in the New World; it seems that they are questions that have been reworked for an expanding continent. Further discussion would most certainly include an examination on duty and freedom, two ideas that run throughout Kant’s Metaphysics of Morals and are significant in early American documents. Not long after Tocqueville left the shores of the American continent, railroads would be built, skyscrapers would rise, and the television would alter communication forever. The volition of the American people was not that of a good will, but of practical will. Here the people would be given the greatest degree of autonomy, the moral free agency of the individual woven into the national myth, creating not a kingdom of ends, but a kingdom of means. "If it seems useful to you to divert man's intellectual and moral activity upon the necessities of physical life and to use it to foster prosperity... ifyou aim to create not heroic virtues but peaceful habits ... if instead of moving through a brilliant society, you are satisfied to live in a prosperous one; if, finally, in your view, the main objective for a government is not to give the whole nation as much strength or glory as possible but to obtain for each of the individuals who make it up as much well-being as possible, while avoiding as much suffering as one can, then make social conditions equal and set up a democratic government" -Alexis de Tocqueville Endnotes 1. Charles Kesler, introduction to The Federalist Papers, edited by Clinton Rossiter, [New York: Signet Classic, 1999), xv-xix. 2. To be sure, 1 am stretching the 1804 theme just a bit here, as Tocqueville was actually born in July 1805. But counting back nine months ... well... you get the idea. 3. Immanuel Kant, Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysics of Morals, trans. Thomas Kingsmill Abbott (Mineola: Dover Publications, 2005), 16. Italics his. 4. Ibid., 17. Italics his. 5. Ibid., 18. Italics his. 6. Ibid., 17. Italics his. 7. Ibid., 20-21. 8. James Madison, Federalist Papers, No. 49. Hamilton makes a similar claim in No. 15, "The Insufficiency of the Present Confederation to Preserve the Union." 9. Kant, Metaphysics ofMorals, 51. 10. Ibid., 74-75. 11. Constitution of the United States, in Federalist Papers. 12. Hamilton, Federalist Papers, No. 15. 37 �13. Alexis de Tocqueville. Democracy in America. Penguin Books, 2003), 11. 14. Ibid., 97. 15. Ibid., 68. 16. Ibid., 286-287. Vol. 1, trans. Gerald Bevin (London; Primary Texts Kant, Immanuel. Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysics of Morals. Translated by Thomas Kingsmill Abbot. Mineola: Dover Publications, 2005. Rossiter, Clinton, ed. The Federalist Papers. New York: Signet Classic, 1999. de Tocqueville, Alexis. Democracy in America. Translated by Gerald Bevin. London: Penguin Books, 2003. 38 �A Selection From: Intimations of Re-Creation from Recollections of Dejection and Joy NK Cartmell In 1798, William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge published Lyrical Ballads, a collection of poems that, according to the preface of the work, differed greatly from all poetry that came before. "The pleasure which 1 have proposed to myself to impart," Wordsworth wrote in the preface, "is of a kind very different from that which is supposed by many persons to be the proper object of poetry" {Preface, 600).1 This volume birthed the British Romantic movement of poetry, causing much controversy at the time. Coleridge remarked upon this in his major critical work, the Biographia Literaria: From [Wordsworth's Preface to Lyrical Ballads], prefixed to poems in which it was impossible to deny the presence of original genius, however mistaken its direction might be deemed, arose the whole long-continued controversy [regarding expressive poetry]. {Biographia, 479) Lyrical Ballads was only one of many examples of their close work together, their professional involvement stimulated by their personal friendship. Much of their correspondence has been recovered, which reveals an ongoing mutual involvement in each other’s art. One of the most interesting of these dialogues is found in two poems, Wordsworth’s "Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood" and Coleridge’s "Dejection: An Ode." Wordsworth wrote the first stanzas of the poem, which he called simply, "Ode," in March 1802, and in late March Wordsworth read his new work, "Ode," to Coleridge. In early April 1802, Coleridge composed "Dejection" {Selincourt, 464-5). "Two years at least passed between the writing of the four first stanzas and the remaining part," Wordsworth revealed in his notes {Fenwick Notes, 61); he reworked his poem in late February or early March of 1804, resulting in "Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood." The similar subject matter, similar lines, and compositional timeline all indicate that these two poems are in direct dialogue with each other. Wordsworth wrote the "Ode" and read it to Coleridge. Coleridge wrote "Dejection" as a response to Wordsworth’s poem, giving his views on the same subject. Wordsworth, upon reading "Dejection," felt Coleridge had misinterpreted 39 �his "Ode" and so wrote "Intimations," reworking some of the extant text of the "Ode" and adding seven additional stanzas. The undeniable connection between the two poems makes them valuable to study in tandem. These two central figures of British Romanticism, in this unaffected conversation, reveal foundational philosophies of the movement. A close scrutiny of these two monumental works will reveal at least a part of this philosophy. Pursuing the connection between the poems will divulge themes the two poets share, and will direct the reader in a better understanding of their works as a whole. In addition to producing artistic work, both poets also wrote critically about the art of poetry; their major prose works, Wordsworth’s Preface to Lyrical Ballads and Coleridge's Biographia Literaria, will inform the reading of their poetry. Despite some minor differences of opinion between the two poets, their critical writings are largely complementary. It is appropriate to apply Coleridge's theory to Wordsworth's poetry, and vice versa; doing so only deepens the understanding of the Romantic movement as a whole, and the connection in particular between these two poems. A third poet, Percy Bysshe Shelley, will also be appealed to in his critical capacity. Heavily influenced by Wordsworth’s poetry, Shelley's insights into Romanticism are eloquently pertinent. His critical work, A Defence of Poetry, can only serve to illuminate the works of his precursors. This essay, one of several parts, will explore Coleridge's "Dejection." As it is a selection from a larger whole, which also covers Wordsworth's "Intimations" and the critical implications of the comparison between the two poems, there are references and quotations from material not contained here. The full text is available in Meem Library at St John’s College Santa Fe, or may be obtained from the author, at nathan.k.cartmell@biola.edu. "Dejection: An Ode" opens with a short quote from a popular Scottish ballad: when the dark remainder of the moon is easily seen next to a bright crescent, there will presently be a storm. Coleridge expands on this borrowed stanza, but colours it extravagantly: Well! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence, This night, so tranquil now, will not go hence Unroused by winds, that ply a busier trade Than those which mould yon cloud in lazy flakes. Or the dull sobbing draft, that moans and rakes. Upon the strings of this i^iolian lute. Which better far were mute. (Ins. 1-8) 40 �It may seem that doubt is cast upon the forecasting skills of this other poet by Coleridge’s use of the word "if' in line 1. But reading further, the weather does turn violent. Coleridge’s thoughts are spurred by an accurate foretelling, not by any flight of fancy. Coleridge’s accuracy is the first clue in the poem that he is not, while writing, in a state of dejection. The Poet has a clear grasp of the workings of nature, and bases his poetry on this understanding. This first stanza paints specific personifications of air. Lines 3-5 describe a lethargic zephyr, "those which mould yon cloud in lazy flakes," contrasted with the building winds. Lines 6-8 calls it a sorrowful breeze, "the dull sobbing draft,” voicing feelings Coleridge would rather not hear. The moaning, sluggish breeze embodies the emotion that Coleridge tries to overcome in the work, an emotion that appears throughout the poem, and is especially evident in the title. He is heavily under the influence of this poisonous dejection in the first few stanzas, and because of dejection’s influence finds typical natural occurrences (the breeze) disturbing.2 Coleridge looks forward to the storm, which he sees as fundamentally different from the lazy wind and the dull draft. He has experienced a moon-wrought storm before, and found it uplifting. The penultimate stanza shows that the storm is the poem’s destination, and is identified in the last line of the first stanza: Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed. And sent my soul abroad. Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give. Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live! (Ins. 17-20) The coming storm, Coleridge believes, can alleviate his dejection and send his soul outside himself; abroad, his soul can experience the general condition of man rather than sit mired in personal failings. Shelley recognised the poet’s ability to look beyond his own particulars in the Defence of Poetry when he said, "A poet participates in the eternal, the infinite, and the one; as far as relates to his conceptions, time and place and number are not” (^Defence, 348). A poet is concerned with universals, with problems and passions affecting the whole of humanity. The Poet does use his own personal experiences to find such truth, but he must move beyond experience, rather than wallow in it. The awe-ful feeling of line 17, produced by the wind, will not dispel his dejection, but will rather fashion it anew, with purpose. Lines 17-18 give voice to the Sublime, a combination of the splendid and dreadful. When looking up at Mont Blanc,^ we recognise the beautiful grandeur — the awesomeness — of the natural. In the face of this utterly inhuman 41 �object we are forcefully reminded of the smallness of the human self, in both a physical and mental way. This amalgamation of awesome and awful (line 17) is the Sublime, a feeling that is expanded on by Coleridge later in the poem when he employs the Imagination. Imagination is a force that allows the Poet to access nature; it is through the power of the Imagination that Coleridge later finds a cure in the storm.^ This first stanza is characterised by the storm, the hoped-for cure to Coleridge’s titular dejection. The second stanza moves on to express his peculiar unhappiness, the central issue of the work. Coleridge's sorrow is no glorified anguish, no great heartache. His is "a grief without a pang," "stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned” (In. 21-2), noteworthily similar to the breeze from the previous stanza. This grief is dead. Coleridge believes this to be an aberration of grief; presumably, sadness should "move and live" (In. 20). Perhaps the core problem Coleridge experiences is that his grief has "no natural outlet" (In. 23). He has bottled up his emotions, has not indulged in "word, or sigh, or tear.” (In. 24). Just as a pond without an outlet is stagnant, so his grief, without refreshment, is moribund. Due to this "wan" mood (In. 25), Coleridge is out of tune with nature. The throstle does not draw him, the curiously coloured sky does not spark his thoughts, the stars do not affect his feelings. Dejection springs, it may be surmised, from a modern callousness identified by Wordsworth in the Preface: "a multitude of causes, unknown to former times, are now acting with a combined force to blunt the discriminating powers of the mind" {Preface, 599). Coleridge (and the reader) feels this dejection because he cannot clearly perceive the messages nature offers to any observer, delicate truths that the frantic pace of industrialised life drowns out. This is not somehow nature’s fault for being feeble, but is rooted in what Wordsworth calls a "degrading thirst after outrageous stimulation” present in modern society [Preface, 599), which prevents people from taking delight in the subtler beauties of the natural world. Coleridge can rationally understand that beauty is in these natural images but simultaneously does not feel anything about them (In. 38). Coleridge recognises this problem in a letter to a friend. "When we declare an object beautiful,” he writes, the contemplation or intuition of its beauty precedes the feeling of complacency, in order of nature at least: nay, in great depression of spirits may even exist without sensibly producing it. [Complete Poems, 553) What seems to have affected modern man is an under-appreciation of natural beauty and an ignorance of its proper effects. The natural world produces no feelings in mankind. In this stanza Coleridge agrees 42 �with Wordsworth's assertion that beauty in nature "moves us not" [Wordsworth, 270). This lack of appreciation of natural beauty is one of the serious problems Coleridge is addressing, and a main object of Romantic poetry is to cultivate appreciation of nature. Coleridge says in the Biographia Literaria: It is the prime merit of genius, and its most unequivocal mode of manifestation, so to represent familiar objects as to awaken in the minds of others a kindred feeling concerning them, and that freshness of sensation which is the constant accompaniment of mental no less than of bodily convalescence. [Biographia, 476] Poets have this genius, and it is to the poetic responsibility that Coleridge speaks. Man has become dulled to the world, and nature no longer feels fresh, because every waking moment he is inundated with stimulation. The sense of wonder that a child feels is not felt by the adult — recall the first stanza of "Intimations." In the word "convalescence," Coleridge even implies that this desensitisation is a disease and a sickness; the cure can be induced by genius through art, and Coleridge uses poetry to this end. Artists have a responsibility to reawaken this sense of newness and freshness so that man can feel and be moved by beauty, not just know it intellectually. The cure for a stagnant spirit is motion. A moving spirit, actively engaged in the world, cannot be bogged down by dejection. In this second stanza Coleridge is already laying the groundwork for a cure. While his dejection has "no relief' (In. 23] because he has not talked about it, the poem is addressed to a Lady,^ meaning that this poem, in explicating his distraught sensations, may well be the cure to his gloom. And if writing the poem is a cure (or the record of a cure] for Coleridge, reading it is plausibly a cure for us as readers. Coleridge, as a Poet, must already be cured in order for him to have written this work. Wordsworth says in the Preface that the Poet's "passions and thoughts and feelings" are connected with our moral sentiments and animal sensations, and with the causes which excite these; with the operations of the elements and the appearances of the visible universe; with storm and sun-shine, with the revolutions of the seasons, with cold and heat, with loss of friends and kindred, with injuries and resentments, gratitude and hope, with fear and sorrow. [Preface, 607-8] Coleridge's imagery and subject are obviously identifiable here. For him to name his dejection, to notice his separation from nature, and to hope 43 �for a cure is to be under the influence of genius. He writes genially (In. 39) about a time when his genius was not functional. If the first few lines of stanza two give a clue about the method of the work, the rest of the stanza turns back to an explication of Coleridge's problematic state of mind. Mired in his stagnant grief (examined a few paragraphs above), Coleridge ignores the curative pleas of nature: "to other thoughts by yonder throstle woo’d" (In. 26). The birds try and move him to other thoughts than his dejection, but their melodic sound cannot overcome his mental opposition. If sound (which he earlier rejected in lines 7-8, wishing the lute were mute) cannot restore him, neither can sight. He gazes "on the western sky, / And its peculiar tint of yellow green” (Ins. 28-9), a shade both startling and intriguing. This sight should be enough to cause his soul to rise, unique and beautiful as it is. But Coleridge's eyes are blank (In. 30) of understanding, uncomprehending of nature’s truths.^ As the twilight fades, the stars emerge and Coleridge is spurred to further thoughts. There is sharp contrast between the motion of the stars and the immobility of his own emotions. This paralysis allows him only to "see, not feel, how beautiful" these natural images are (In. 38). Coleridge’s insensate immobility links back to his letter, quoted earlier: in great depression, man does not feel beauty. The problem is located, Coleridge would say, in the esemplastic power, the Imagination, which he describes in the Biographia Literaria: The primary imagination I hold to be the living power and prime agent of all human perception . . . [The secondary imagination] dissolves, diffuses, dissipates, in order to recreate; or where this process is rendered impossible, yet still, at all events, it struggles to idealise and to unify. It is essentially vital, even as all objects (as objects) are essentially fixed and dead. [Biographia, 477) Coleridge can still see the stars, but he cannot feel them. Mental images can still be constructed, because the primary imagination functions; but meaning cannot be wrought from the images, because the vital secondary imagination is mired in dejection. Coleridge’s dejection is emphasised by its contrast with the moving stars "that glide . . . / Now sparkling” (Ins. 33-4). In the Biographia he claims that objects are fixed and dead, but he sees the stars moving. This perceived movement betrays meaning behind the objects, truth that can be apprehended through the observation and synthesis of natural images. There is not meaning in the familiar scientific objects themselves (objects as objects), seen by the primary imagination: gaseous nuclear reactions give no insight into a deeper truth, a truth pointed to by the beauty of the stars. Coleridge, in his dejection, cannot utilise the secondary imagination, 44 �F and so cannot feel the stars' beauty. This point anticipates the sixth stanza, where Coleridge reveals the origin of his dejection and the reason his imagination failed: while he is not so far gone as to completely ignore nature — the moving stars — he struggles to understand the truths that perceived motion indicates. Coleridge can only see the stars as mundane. The inability to comprehend truths in beauty is not surprising in the common man, but in a Poet it is disaster. Shelley says that poetry (and therefore the Poet] "lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar" [Defence, 351]. Coleridge’s dejection prevents him from seeing the stars anew; familiar objects cannot inspire as forcefully as fresh visions. His despair results in the failure of his powers of genius, his ability to lift the veil and create freshness; he acknowledges this dysfunction in the first line of the third stanza: "my genial spirits fail” (In. 39]. The despair felt by the Poet, then, is a consequence of failing his function (in an Aristotelian sense]. It is the function of the Poet to see beauty in nature and re-create uplifting images for the pleasure of the reader. Coleridge, by not engaging in this process, is failing his inborn responsibilities as an artist.'^ Artists have a responsibility, because of their innate genius, to share their beneficial visions in the hopes that the audience will be enlightened to the deeper truths of the universe. Coleridge's recognition of his failure of function contributes to his feelings of despair. The third stanza marks the deepest depression of the poem. Coleridge recognises that his poetic genius has, for the time, left. But, he says, "what can these avail / To lift the smothering weight from off my breast?" (Ins. 40-1]. He doubts — even if he were still in control of his Imagination — that he would ever be able to escape dejection. In these two lines, Coleridge has completely lost hope in his own poetic faculties and perhaps all poetic genius: "It were a vain endeavour, / Though I should gaze forever / On that green light that lingers in the west" (Ins. 424]. He can see no way, through nature’s effects or through selfmotivation, to make his soul move again. In Coleridge’s despair there is a startlingly astute observation. While he has dismissed nature and his own poetic faculties, claiming that neither have the power to cure his disease (although this claim is suspect, coming as it does from a diseased mind; we later see that his faculties are responsible for curing him], he acknowledges that nature has not failed — rather, he is the problem: "I may not hope from outward forms to win / The passion and the life, whose fountains are within” (Ins. 45-6]. The movement that he longs for springs from himself, his own Imagination. If there is no understanding, then nature is "fixed and dead," a stuffed. 45 �scientific curiosity. Any cure to this dejection must come from a change in Coleridge’s way of thinking rather than from a revolution in nature.^ The third stanza most clearly exemplifies Coleridge's understandable interpretation of the first version of "Intimations.” In reading the first four stanzas, it is possible to believe that Wordsworth blamed nature for the loss of celestial light ("Intimations” In. 18). Coleridge wants it to be clear that he faults himself, not nature, for his dejection. If nature were blamed for dejection, Wordsworth’s claims about the desensitisation of mankind could be dismissed as the degradation of nature. Since Wordsworth says in the Preface and elsewhere that man is at fault for his own misunderstanding and unhappiness, his poem must obviously mean something else. Coleridge’s gross misinterpretation of Wordsworth’s meaning, which prompted him to write "Dejection,” prompted Wordsworth to add stanzas five through eleven in order to clarify his view of the relationship between nature and man’s poetic faculty. The fourth stanza of "Dejection” continues the thought expressed in line 46; The search for meaning starts within the human soul. Meaning is not found within, though. Coleridge writes, "we receive but what we give” (In. 47); this is not in the manner of giving anger and receiving anger back, but refers to giving a seed to the earth, and receiving a fruit back. If Coleridge gives honest inquiry, he will receive understanding. The willingness to plant comes from within; but the product, the meaning, the end, is not found in man — it is displayed through nature and comes from the universe. There is a vital interplay between the duties of man and the function of nature. "In our life alone does nature live,” Coleridge says (In. 48). Without man nature is unmoving, "fixed and dead.” But with man’s active understanding (the secondary Imagination) applied to natural images, meaning can be found in the movements of the stars and the music of the birds. Coleridge illustrates the interplay of nature and man, at once showing the consequences of apathy and interest: And would we aught behold, of higher worth. Than that inanimate cold world allowed To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd. Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud Enveloping the Earth (Ins. 50-55) The "poor loveless ever-anxious crowd” (In. 52) is common man, full of apprehension, devoid of superior feeling. To this man, the world is inanimate and cold (In. 51), motionless and lifeless. It can hold no interest and can give no succour to the mind. If we would find truth and beauty in 46 �nature ("aught of higher worth”], a light — removing darkness and giving comprehension — must fountain up from within the soul. The fair luminous cloud (In. 54] will enable Coleridge to understand what has in previous stanzas moved him not: the throstle, the stars, the coloured sky. The light from his soul illuminates the entire world, all of nature, and is the first step toward understanding. As Coleridge addresses sight, a heavily recurring theme in the poem, he also deals with sound: "And from the soul itself must there be sent / A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth, / Of all sweet sounds the life and element!” (Ins. 56-8]. At the moment of birth, the human soul emits a note so poignant and beautiful — "this beautiful and beauty-making power” (In. 63] — that it informs (or should inform] all of man's subsequent hearing. When Coleridge recollects this sound from early childhood, he can again search for meaning in the "sobbing draft” and "Aiolian lute” (Ins. 6, 7] that, under the influence of dejection, he found repellent. Where the third stanza showed Coleridge’s deepest depression ("my genial spirits fail”], in the fifth stanza Coleridge has recovered his genius and jubilantly shares it with the reader.^ This "sweet voice” and "luminous cloud” (In. 71], he says, is Joy. Joy is the light that illumines and the sound that harmonises, the emotion born in the soul that allows the Poet (and his readers] to search for meaning in nature. As Coleridge has shown in the previous stanzas, without Joy nature appears blank and irrelevant. With Joy, truth and beauty can be found in nature. Joy is the essential first step, since from it "flows all that charms our ear or sight, / All melodies the echoes of that voice, / All colours a suffusion from that light” (Ins. 73-5]. In the fifth stanza, Coleridge introduces a moral issue to poetic understanding, one that is connected closely with Joy. 0 pure of heart! thou need'st not ask of me What this strong music in the soul may be! ... Joy that ne’er was given, Save to the pure ... (Ins. 59 -65] The man who is "pure of heart” (In. 59] is already familiar with Joy, and this good man is contrasted with "the sensual and the proud” (In. 70], those who will not inhabit the new Heaven and new Earth (In. 69]. Joy, or what enables man to properly comprehend nature, is given to good men only, "in dower” from Nature (In. 68]. Selfish, bad men will never properly understand the truths of the universe, those beauties to which nature points. A Poet must have a pure heart; and a reader, to be moved by poetry, must also have a pure heart, either entering the poem or through the poem’s action on him. Once a man becomes pure, he can join with Nature in a marriage-like relationship. The closeness and love of a 47 �I marriage in stanza five is contrasted with the shallow appreciation of nature in stanza six. After stanza five’s introduction to Joy, the anti-dejection, Coleridge moves into stanza six with a history of his own interactions with Joy. There was a timeio when, though my path was rough. This joy within me dallied with distress. And all misfortunes were but as the stuff Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness: For hope grew round me, like the twining vine. And fruits, and foliage, not my own, seemed mine. (Ins. 76-81] Coleridge has not always been dejected, and he has actually found some measure of pleasure in milder forms of misery ("distress" In. 77]. This joy was due, Coleridge says, to hope. Hope came from outside the self (Ins. 80-1], but Coleridge believed the source to be from within: "foliage, not my own, seemed mine" (In. 81]. Hope’s fruits and leaves Coleridge mistakenly thought to emanate from himself. This false conviction — that man, rather than nature, is the source of goodness — contributed substantially to Coleridge’s slide into dejection.n When Coleridge discovered that hope was not an inherent part of the human soul, his understanding of what made up a human collapsed, leaving a dearth of any beliefs, easily filled by dejection. Coleridge’s present dejection is possible only because of his earlier self-deception. True happiness comes from a proper use of the Imagination, but these earlier "dreams of happiness," false and unfounded fantasies, are born of Fancy. Coleridge explains Fancy, and its difference from the Imagination,!^ in the Biographia: The fancy is indeed no other than a mode of memory emancipated from the order of time and space; and blended with, and modified by that empirical phenomenon of the will which we express by the word choice. But equally with the ordinary memory it must receive all its materials ready made from the law of association. [Biographia, 477-8] Fancy results in dreams of happiness, rather than actual happiness, because Fancy can build nothing original, but can only desperately try to fit together incongruous experiences in the hope of finding joy. This false happiness may appear at first to be genuine and lasting, but it collapses when challenged by actual experiences contradictory to the constructed viewpoint. 48 J �Now Coleridge explicates his fall into despair: "Now afflictions bow me down to earth each visitation / suspends . . . / My shaping spirit of Imagination" [Ins. 82-6). Where in earlier life Coleridge’s Joy helped him manage his distress, he has now lost Joy, causing him to give in to the dejection affliction brings. "Nor care 1 that they rob me of my mirth” [In. 83), he says, distinguishing between unhappiness [a lack of mirth or jovial spirits) and true, listless dejection. Dejection, Coleridge points out in this passage, is not born from solemnity: its roots are a dysfunction in the Imagination. This original dysfunction lays the ground for the future state of dejection described in lines 21-24. Dejection's source is a lack of Imagination, and Coleridge does not hesitate to explain specifically how the Imagination degenerates: For not to think of what I needs must feel But to be still and patient, all I can; And haply by abstruse research to steal From my own nature all the natural man — This was my sole resource, my only plan; Till that which suits a part infects the whole. And now is almost grown the habit of my soul [Ins. 87-93) Coleridge loses his powers of Imagination by being still, rather than actively addressing his problem [Ins. 87-8). This stillness in his life foreshadows the stagnation of spirit [like the pond without outlet) that so affects him at the depth of dejection. Coleridge directs his energies to "abstruse research” [In. 89), recondite knowledge, rather than more natural truths available from simple observation of the universe. This pursuit of the esoteric changes Coleridge into something artificial and affected, removed from Nature, ironically cutting him off from true insights into human being. The dysfunction of the Imagination prevents Coleridge from following any other path, however. Coleridge realises that eventually his entire self will be subsumed by this poisonous habit; once the transformation is complete, there is little hope that the poetic faculty will ever be restored. The inability to avoid abstruse thoughts [In. 89) comes from the attitude Coleridge had in the first part of the sixth stanza: "fruits, and foliage, not my own, seemed mine” [In. 81). The mistaken belief that truth is within the self leads to an unimaginative view of nature. The obsessive quest for knowledge in the human psyche is an esoteric pursuit, and results in a disregard for the general revelation found in nature, available to all men, either through the genial spirit [for the Poet) or through poetry [for those without the poetic faculty). 49 �Hence, viper thoughts, that coil around my mind. Reality’s dark dream! I turn from you, and listen to the wind. Which long has raved unnoticed. (Ins. 94-97) Coleridge rejects these dreams "of happiness” (In. 79) spun from fancy, unrealistic and unimaginative, deceitful and misguiding. Finally, Coleridge turns to nature; faith in his genius breaks through the habits (In. 93) that nearly consumed him. He rejects the poisonous viper and listens to the storm. The storm, foretold in the first stanza, has buffeted Coleridge for some time, overlooked due to his lethargic dejection. Coleridge’s disregard of the forceful gale emphasises the deep state of dejection he was in. Even though he begged for the storm to sweep away his lassitude (Ins. 15, 20), he cannot be moved by it when it first arrives. In addition to an act of nature, Coleridge himself must will his soul toward a healthy state. Coleridge must see nature once again with that particular aptitude given to poets. To the common man, deep in his habits of dreaming fancy, this storm would do nothing, for he would never have the poetic Imagination to change himself.i^ Coleridge, as a Poet, remembers the freshness of nature and is called to return to this view. Coleridge does not here rationalise or over-think the storm. All that is required of him is a will to stir his stagnant spirit. The storm washes over him in a hurricane of sensory input; there is no rational pursuit of the storm’s meaning. In this state of acceptance Coleridge can begin to find truth in natural images. For the reader, as well as Coleridge, the truth he finds in the storm’s billows is unexpected. What a scream Of agony by torture lengthened out That lute sent forth! Thou Wind, that rav’st without. Bare crag, or mountain-tairn, or blasted tree. Or pine-grove whither woodman never clomb. Or lonely house, long held the witches’ home, Methinks were fitter instruments for thee. Mad Lutanist! who in this month of showers. Of dark-brown gardens, and of peeping flowers, Mak’st Devils’ yule, with worse than wintry song. The blossoms, buds, and timorous leaves among. (Ins. 97-107) 50 �In the first stanza, Coleridge wished that a storm, rather than a "dull sobbing draft" (In. 6], would come and move his soul to life (In. 20]. The sad breeze played the j^olian lute (In. 7]; there was a sharp distinction, in Coleridge’s dejected mind, between a sad nature and a moving, living nature. But here, in the seventh stanza, Coleridge names the hoped-for storm as the player of the lute and echoes his earlier sentiment: the lute should be mute (In. 8,103-4]. Coleridge can find only pain in the melodies of the lute; he believes that a pleasanter song could be found if the wind played objects not purposed to be instruments (peak or pond or timber, Ins. 100-3]. More than even anguish, Coleridge hears blasphemy ("Devils’ yule”] in the harp’s notes: this is a "wintry song" (In. 106] out of place in spring, when things should be birthing and growing. But he perseveres in his newly-regained faculty. Coleridge sees the wind as artist, and himself as audience; "Thou Actor, perfect in all tragic sounds! / Thou mighty Poet, even to frenzy bold!" (Ins. 108-9]. This disquieting tale was not what Coleridge expected to hear with his reinstated genial power; but he trusts nature’s teaching, and pursues the unfolding vision. Coleridge hears real horror in this disturbing lute, expressed in the next few lines: What tell’st thou now about? ’Tis of the rushing of an host in rout. With groans of trampled men, with smarting wounds — At once they groan with pain and shudder with the cold! (Ins. 110-113] Coleridge’s hoped-for cure, Joy, seems to be at extreme odds with the sentiments he sees expressed by the storm; instead of delight, he perceives only pain — violence inflicted on men by men. Coleridge’s newly-restored poetic faculty seems to have betrayed him: instead of healing and peace, he is given a vision of death. This clamorous blowing quickly changes into quiet, and Coleridge finds significance in the reversal. But hush! there is a pause of deepest silence! And all that noise, as of a rushing crowd. With groans, and tremulous shudderings — all is over — It tells another tale, with sounds less deep and loud! A tale of less affright. And tempered with delight. As Otway’si'^ self had framed the tender lay. ’Tis of a little child. Upon a lonesome wild. Not far from home, but she hath lost her way; 51 �And now moans low in bitter grief and fear, And now screams loud, and hopes to make her mother hear. (Ins. 114-125) This tale — told in silence and so different than the zephyrous battle — is Coleridge’s own; he is the little child. The Poet-as-child metaphor will appear again in "Intimations,” where Wordsworth discovers that man needs to be like a child. This poem, "Dejection," is a tale "less deep and loud" (In. 117) than other poems ("The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” for instance). It is not a poem of suspense or fear, but is a flowing melody describing Coleridge’s dejection and convalescence, enjoyable to the reader, "tempered with delight" (In. 119). Coleridge, playing in the fields of dreamful Fancy (In. 79), soon strayed from the path of true genius, "not far from home, but she hath lost her way" (In. 123). It is at times difficult to distinguish true Imagination (the genial power. In. 39) from mere Fancy, but that small distance is the difference between dream and reality. Coleridge’s continued efforts to find his way home are rewarded: he fights through the dejection and regains his poetic faculty, enabling him to write this poem about the experience. Coleridge closes the poem with a prayer for his companion (the reader, see line 25). "Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep!” (In. 127), he wishes, both for her mental well­ being (curing dejection is a trying experience for all involved) and for his own continued poetic abilities. "May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling,” Coleridge prays (In. 130), the sparkling, moving stars of stanza two letting her feel beauty in nature. "Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice; / To her may all things live, from pole to pole" (Ins. 134-5): The Joy that Coleridge rediscovered he now wishes upon the reader, that they may see (perhaps through this poem) the motion truth imparts to nature. The true dejection in Coleridge’s work is absent from "Intimations,” and yet both poets tell a similar tale. Wordsworth begins with happiness, moves quickly through "a thought of grief’ ("Intimations" In. 22), and ends in Joy. Coleridge starts with "dreams of happiness" (In. 79), almost loses his genial spirit, and eventually arrives at Joy. "Dejection" makes it clear that the Poet has a duty to enlighten mankind through poetry. The Poet, says Wordsworth in the Preface, is "endued with more lively sensibility, more enthusiasm and tenderness, who has a greater knowledge of human nature, and a more comprehensive soul, than are supposed to be common among mankind” [Preface, 603). Since not all men can access truths in nature because they have not the poetic genial spirit (In. 39), the Poet must use his special talent to enliven the souls of his readers. 52 �Coleridge, in "Dejection," clearly acknowledges that it is his own fault he can no longer feel beauty. He lays out the way in which he regained his ability to use the Imagination, and expounds on the beauties of the natural world. He works through his dejection, inspired by nature, and concludes with an exhortation to the reader to arrive at the same state as the Poet: pleasurable understanding of natural beauty. Endnotes 1. The British Romantics [namely Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats) saw the poetry of their time as frivolous and damaging. Wordsworth addresses his "contemporaries" in the Preface: "[They] think that they are conferring honour upon themselves and their art, in proportion as they separate themselves from the sympathies of men, and indulge in arbitrary and capricious habits of expression, in order to furnish food for fickle tastes, and fickle appetites, of their own creation" [Preface, 597). 2. Coleridge is clearly not dejected when writing the poem, because his genius must be operative for poetry to be written. He does, though, write about a time when his poetic faculty was inoperative. This claim is investigated further on the following pages. 3. Shelley illustrates this feeling of wonder and dread in his poem, "Mont Blanc." 4. The Imagination is discussed more fully as it becomes apparent in the poem. 5. "Lady” [line 25) in the final version. In earlier versions this word was variously "Sara," "William," and "Edmund." Coleridge personalized the poem for various reasons, but ultimately addressed whomever reads it, art for all men. 6. Recall the end of Keats’ "Ode on a Grecian Urn": "Beauty is truth, truth beauty." 7. Coleridge believes poetic genius to be inborn, see In. 85-6. 8. This begins to touch on the paradoxical balance between feeling and thinking that Coleridge’s despair springs from; he addresses it further in stanza six. 9. "The passion and the life, whose fountains are within. / 0 Lady! we receive but what we give, / And in our life alone does nature live" [Ins. 46-8). 10. The line here mimes the first line of "Intimations"; "There was a time ..." This is one of many textual clues that the two poems are in direct dialogue with each other, and that Wordsworth and Coleridge are speaking to the same subject, perhaps even the same type of incident. 11. Goodness exists outside the self, while movement [the pursuit of goodness) starts inside the self, as line 46 makes clear. 12. Recall Coleridge’s discussion of the Imagination. 13. The common man, unable to be moved by the storm, would never naturally be in a state of dejection as the Poet can be. 14. Thomas Otway, a popular English playwright in the seventeenth century, was most famous for Venice Preserv’d, 1682. An omnibus was first published in 1712. 53 �Primary Texts Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. Biographia Literaria. In The Norton Anthology of English Literature. Edited by M.H. Abrams, Seventh Edition Vol. 2. New York: Norton & Company, 2000. ---------. "Dejection: An Ode." In The Norton Anthology of English Literature. Edited by M.H. Abrams, Seventh Edition Vol. 2. New York: Norton & Company, 2000. De Selincourt, Ernest, and Helen Darbishire, eds. The Poetical Works of WilliamWordsworth, Vol. 4. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1958. Wordsworth, William and Elizabeth Fenwick. The Fenwick Notes of William Wordsworth. Edited by Jared Curtis. London: Bristol Classical Press, 1993. ---------. Preface to Lyrical Ballads. In The Major Works. Edited by Stephen Gill. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000. 54 �Meditation on Li Bai's Invitation to Wine Turner Resor Invitation to Wine -Li Bai Do you not see the waters of the Yellow river streaming from the sky How they rush tumbling to the sea and never return? Do you not see, within the high tower, someone who sorrows for his white hair before the bright mirror? In the morning like black silk, at evening turned to snow? In human life, when hopes are won, we should drink our joys to the end. Not leave the golden wine jar empty in the moonlight. The things that Heaven made must have a use! Though I squander a thousand gold pieces, time may restore them. - Boil the sheep! Kill the ox! Let us be merry! Three hundred cupfuls of wine we must drink this time! Master Cen! Doctor Danqui! I am bringing the wine Don’t put down your cups! I shall sing you a snatch of song: Listen to me please. Gongs and drums, costly dishes, little I prize them! I only want the long dream of wine and never to wake. Through all the ages, the good and wise were passed over in silence! Only the mighty drinkers left a name behind. Think of the Prince of Chen in former days, feasting at Pingle palace The wine at ten thousand a flagon, the endless jesting and laughter. . . How can a host complain he is short of money? I must hasten to buy the wine to put before my friends My horse dappled with the five colours And my thousand-guinea furs I will call the boy to barter them for a splendid wine That you and I may forget for sorrows of all the ages. �There is a window in time somewhere between five and seven o'clock, depending on the season, between day and night, that, for as long as I can remember, has given rise to melancholic musings. I am saddened by the passing quality of the evening light. It is the light that peeks over passes and spills its shafts down valleys; it warms the bark of aspen groves, and signals the last call for summer swimmers. Dancing before us are the final dramatic measures of the sun's daily opus, and the closing notes - merciless and beautiful - ask us, "Have you been listening? Have you been living?” We respond to the hour restlessly. Enforced by the light's stern glare, we move in the direction of home, to the places that tell us we are somebody. Transitions are brief spans in time when nothing is asked of us beyond what we feel, and I find myself with little to do but reflect. My mind wanders and flashes, darting from bright to dark as the light's own rough-edged mosaic plays through the landscape. I half-meditate, shifting through the fallen leaves of thought and memory; I pretend that some forgotten piece might give an answer to my emptiness. I think of loves that could have been and others that could have been better. 1 wonder if I should have been a rider of bulls or perhaps a farmer. Why has it been so hard to follow my heart? I think of anything so that I can think of nothing, like a man who has never before seen water trying to talk his way out of walking the plank. When I was younger there was some relief in my mother's calling me in for dinner, and in this way waking me from my reveries. I would take the path out of the woods toward our house and the illusion of home. I remember the numbed orange glow of living room lights soaking the logs of our family cabin- our minds drowsy from the day that we would soon be forgetting. Inside with the doors shut, I felt as though I had left some essential belonging behind, like a baseball glove in the rain, something that in my negligence 1 had left out alone in the dark and cold. Any effort to recall my abandoned thoughts was soon drowned-out by the conversations of the dinner table. I did not realize that it was only I who needed artificial warmth, that the true idea can live in any environment, and that I need only learn to live with the idea. Before, my fears were assigned to the dark of night; now I see that the dark of night has been assigned to my fears. Our external landscapes and how we respond to them are the material reflections of some aspect of our internal landscapes- so what I cannot accept is always personal. The darkness of night corresponds to our fear of all that is unknown within ourselves, just as the climax of the evening's light that I am drawn to corresponds to the potential for great beauty in each of our souls — even if only momentary. The trouble is that they are inseparable. Day runs into night and paradox is the nature of life. Those 56 �who acknowledge only the good will forever find themselves wanting, and if I ever want to fully experience the light without I must accept the darkness within. Our minds avoid the reconciliation of opposites like a hand that instinctually jerks away from the flame. There always appears to be a better time than the present to confront our fears. When I was young 1 lived with the safety of tomorrow; in this way I secured my relative comfort in the present by investing its hopes in the future. I am older now, and I have become conscious of my efforts to elude concentration. I am tired of chasing the existential tomorrow. This new consciousness has left me exposed in a no-man’s-land, stuck between two worlds that cannot reasonably exist in the same universe. I am coming from a world in which I unknowingly shaped everything - environment, home, friends, and myself - in order to protect my ignorance of the world where I now wish to go. Therefore the value of the first is necessarily deflated by the realization of the second, since the former existed almost entirely in defiance. I will not be able to return and understand the land that I have come from until 1 have seen all there is within myself, and I am nervous to forge ahead. The undecided middleperson becomes a tragic character through their inactivity. Ambivalence is the curse of decisive passion and the mother of empty soliloquy. "Through all the ages, the good and wise were passed over in silence; only the mighty drinkers left a name behind.” Similarly, my timidity has made me a wiser evader of my deeper soundings, and has put me in peril of becoming intellectually dishonest. But if I listen with intent, my consciousness can also be my most trustworthy guide, and recently it has been telling me that now is the time to act, now is the time to walk out further into the unknown, so that I can come back refreshed by what I have known all along to be true. Still, I hesitate. In my hesitation I turn to books and poetry. 1 amuse myself with the stories of others and their confrontations with this psychic borderland. Then I read Li Bai’s Invitation to Wine, and he speaks to me as a master and compassionate friend. He tells me that I will be rewarded if I stop and pay attention. He tells me to "not leave the golden wine-jar empty in the moonlight,” since he and I and all "the things that Heaven made must have a use.” He tells me all this and 1 am happy to accept his invitation. The poem's message comes as an echo from another shore booming across the wild waters of a swollen river. It sings that we must brave the internal mists that confound and isolate us all and join the singer on the opposite bank. It is a forceful reminder of all that can be won if we are mindful. His voice is boisterous and invigorating, demanding our attention. Just as the fleeting grace of the light tries to hold my eye, Li Bai �implores us: "Listen to me please." And if we listen, we can learn to look indiscriminately, and when at last we See, we will be ready to drink in the terrific beauty of pure sight, and that is the ultimate celebration of life. For Li Bai, a moment of true sight is the moment "when hopes are won.” All our human longings are fulfilled when we become naturally reunited to a world where evil is the brother of good, night the source of day, and death the giver of life. In a moment of clarity our human joys can spread their wings without the threat of the unknown throwing its shadow across our path. For if it must be that "the waters of the Yellow river streaming from the sky . . . rush tumbling to the sea and never return," if life tells us that someone’s hair will be "in the morning like black silk" and "at evening turned to snow,” if we leave behind the world of illusion where anything could be other than as it is, what is left but the certain joy of each individual moment? We are no longer concerned with tomorrow, since tomorrow can never be anything more than an excuse for today. We have found ourselves here in the now. We have left our "high towers" to see the world as it is. All our possessions, all that we have horded in vain will finally become useful insofar as they can be sold or traded so that we may drink in this moment longer and deeper. "Time may restore” all these things. "Gongs and drums, costly dishes, little I prize them; I only want the long dream of wine and never to wake.” To drink wine is to be thankful. It is the imbibing of an essence distilled from its particularities. It is a ritual that celebrates the life we are given through death. It is a forgetting of the "sorrows of all the ages.” Once we have drunk from this ancient well we will be born again, but if we return in fear to our now decrepit dwellings and think that we can forget, we will be haunted until we return to the hunt. There are those who would build precarious palaces out of the disjointed fragments of memory rather than return to the springs of sight. The habituated artist, however, is someone who is obedient to what they feel to be true. Maybe it is predetermined how we will respond. I know that there are moments when I cannot ignore the call. When I walk now, I carry less with me. I leave my home to watch the sun set beyond Albuquerque and I bring only this reminder: Today is the only day there is to See. This moment is all I will ever know. And with this I lose myself. The gravity of the temporary is all that remains to inform me and I surrender, letting its pull take me out of myself. The beauty is absolutely terrifying. I have been invited to wine. 58 �Primary Text Li Bai. Meditation on Wine. In 300 Tang Poems, translated by Innes Herdan. Taipei: Far East Book Co., 2000. 59 �The Rights of a Citizen and the Rights of a Man: Constitutionality and Natural Law in the Dred Scott Decision and Lincoln's Springfield Speech of 1857 Kanishka G.B. Marasinghe The opinion of the Supreme Court regarding the case of Dred Scott v. Sandford delivered by Chief Justice Taney seems to have found for itself an infamous place in the history of American constitutional law. On June 26, 1857, less than four months after the decision was handed down, Lincoln addressed it directly in his famous Springfield Speech of 1857, calling it "erroneous” and stating that "we shall do what we can to have it to overrule [this decision]" [728J. Less than 40 years later. Justice Harlan, the sole dissenter in the Plessy v. Ferguson decision, writes that in time, the judgment rendered in Plessy "will prove to be quite as pernicious as the decision made by this tribunal in the Dred Scott case" (Harlan, 7J. If we view the history of these cases through a lens shaped by an appreciation for the civil rights movement, it is tempting to see these decisions as either certain milestones or detours on the path towards a fuller expression of our equality as citizens before the law. In this light, the Dred Scott decision does indeed seem particularly pernicious because it is in this judgment that the status of 'citizen’ is expressly denied by the Supreme Court to all members of "the enslaved African race" (721). One could make an argument that the Dred Scott decision, by denying Dred Scott the status of‘citizen’ and thereby the right to sue in the courts of the United States, is especially damaging to his natural rights as a man as posited in the Declaration of Independence. It would be a much harder case to make, however, that his legal status as a citizen under the Constitution of the United States has been illegitimately denied. In this paper, I will examine the opinion handed down by Chief Justice Taney on Dred Scott’s claim to citizenship in light of Lincoln’s challenges concerning both historical accuracy and Taney’s interpretation of the Declaration of Independence. I will argue that despite Lincoln’s challenges, the opinion handed down by Chief Justice Taney still adheres to sound constitutional principles, but that Taney’s treatment of the Declaration of Independence inherently changes the character of the debate surrounding Dred Scott The Dred Scott case concerns two issues: first, whether Dred Scott is a citizen of Missouri "within the meaning of the Constitution of the United States" and, second, whether Congress was authorized to pass the Missouri Compromise of 1820 "under any of the powers granted to it by the Constitution" (723). The first issue pertains to Dred Scott’s right to sue in a circuit court and the second issue pertains to his claim to 60 �freedom. Lincoln restates and emphasizes the importance of the Dred Scott decision in his Springfield Speech of 1857; he asserts, "The decision declares two propositions — first, that a Negro cannot sue in the United States courts, and, secondly, that Congress cannot prohibit slavery in the territories" (727). In this restatement, Lincoln emphasizes the effects that the Dred Scott decision will have at the federal level — he turns it into a national issue. In doing so, however, he fundamentally misrepresents Chief Justice Taney’s position concerning the question of citizenship. The opinion of the Supreme Court never directly states that "a Negro cannot sue in the United States courts." Instead, the opinion asserts that Dred Scott cannot sue in the circuit courts because he is not a legal citizen of Missouri under the Constitution of the United States. In formulating the opinion in these words. Chief Justice Taney makes the question of citizenship into a state’s rights issue. The implication is not that all Negroes cannot sue in U.S. courts but that one must be a U.S. citizen to sue in its courts and that citizenship is granted on a state by state basis. One could, perhaps, read Lincoln’s restatement of the first part of the Dred Scott decision as simply asserting that "Dred Scott (a Negro) cannot sue in the United States courts." Lincoln’s formulation, however, seems to imply a more general application. Lincoln’s first challenge to Chief Justice Taney has to do with the accuracy of the historical facts used to support his decision. Among the conditions that Lincoln lists as necessary for accepting this decision as precedent is the condition that the decision "had been in no part based on assumed historical facts which are not really true” (728). Taney, in fact, appeals to the "legislation and histories of the times" in order to settle the question of "who were the citizens of the several states when the Constitution was adopted” (720). Lincoln addresses this directly: "Chief Justice Taney, in delivering the opinion of the majority of the court, insists at great length that Negroes were no part of the people who made, or for whom was made, the Declaration of Independence or the Constitution of the United States" (729). Lincoln goes on to cite Judge Curtis’s dissenting opinion where he states that in five of the original thirteen states, "free Negroes were voters and in proportion to their numbers had the same part in making the Constitution that the white people had" (729). Lincoln has a point when he asserts that free Negroes did make up a portion of the people of the United States who adopted the Constitution. His point, however, is largely tangential because it disregards the basic principles upon which both the U.S. Constitution was established and Chief Justice Taney makes his argument. Article VII of the Constitution of the United States maintains that ratification by nine of the thirteen original states for which it was intended "shall be sufficient for the Establishment of this Constitution 61 �between the States so ratifying the Same."i Ratification by the conventions of nine states is sufficient to establish the Constitution but in order for the Constitution to have any authority over any particular state, the convention of that state must have also ratified it. If only nine states ratify the constitution, then it is only established among those nine states. In his decision. Chief Justice Taney asserts that the principle upon which the government thereby rests is the 'union of states' and that any power not expressly given to the federal government is relegated to the authority of the state governments. He expounds on this principle, writing. The principle upon which our governments rest, and upon which alone they continue to exist, is the union of states, sovereign and independent within their own limits in their internal and domestic concerns, and bound together as one people by a general government, possessing certain enumerated and restricted powers, delegated to it by the people of the several states, and exercising supreme authority within the scope of the powers granted to it, throughout the dominion of the United States. (724J Concerning citizenship as stated in the Constitution, Taney writes. It speaks in general terms of the people of the United States, and of citizens of the several states, when it is providing for the exercise of the powers granted or the privileges secured to the citizen. It does not define what description of persons are intended to be included under these terms, or who shall be regarded as a citizen and one of the people. (722] By not defining the description of persons intended to be included as citizens under the federal government, the Constitution relegates the question of citizenship to the authority of the state governments. This was, in principle, accommodating to both slave and free states at the time that the Constitution was being established. One of the main goals of the Constitutional Convention was to draft a document establishing a federal government that would be acceptable to all thirteen states. It is highly unlikely that any of the states that supported slavery would join the union if, in doing so, they also conferred the rights of citizenship under the federal Constitution onto the slaves living within their state limits. Lincoln and Judge Curtis argue that in five out of the thirteen original states, free Negroes were part of the voting public that ratified the Constitution. Chief Justice Taney could argue in turn that in eight out of 62 �the thirteen states they were not and that to be a citizen of the union, one must first be a citizen of a state. Lincoln's second argument against the Taney decision concerns the Declaration of Independence, its interpretation, and the question of for whom it was made. Chief Justice Taney mentions the language used in the Declaration of Independence early on in his opinion in order to determine who were citizens of the states when the Constitution was adopted. Taney writes. In the opinion of the Court the legislation and the histories of the times, and the language used in the Declaration of Independence, show that neither the class of persons who had been imported as slaves nor their descendants, whether they had become free or not, were then acknowledged as a part of the people nor intended to be included in the general words used in that memorable instrument. (721) Here Chief Justice Taney is flat out wrong and Lincoln is right to challenge him* on his interpretation of the Declaration. The Declaration of Independence is a document of natural law and as such applies to all men. This is stated directly in the two excerpts of the Declaration that Chief Justice Taney quotes in the Court's decision: When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and nature's God entitle them, a decent respect for the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. (721) We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; that to secure these rights, governments are instituted, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. (721) The language of the Declaration is too general and conclusive to be amenable to any other interpretation but that it must apply equally to all men. It grounds its precepts in "the law of nature and nature's God” asserting that "all men are created equal" and "that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights." By appealing to nature and 63 �the Creator, the Declaration raises itself to a position above human law and appeals to that in human beings, which loves the just and yearns for the universal irrespective of its particular application; it appeals to that sublimated moral sense within us with which we affirm, question, and judge the adequacy of human law. Lincoln’s parody of judge Douglas’ version of the Declaration^ is particularly astute because he realizes that the moment we appeal to a universal sense of justice on anything less than universal terms, the appeal loses its rhetorical effect and becomes ridiculous (732). A "decent respect for the opinions of mankind" requires that the framers of the Declaration proceed (and proceed seriously) on general terms. Both Chief Justice Taney and Judge Douglas posit the argument that to interpret the Declaration as an affirmation of the rights of all men would be to essentially vilify those men who framed and signed it. Judge Douglas, in this regard, asserts, "No man can vindicate the character, motives, and conduct of the signers of the Declaration of Independence except upon the hypothesis that they referred to the white race alone, and not to the African, when they declared all men to be created equal” (731). This argument relies on the conflation of human law and natural law and misconstrues the Declaration as a document of human law. If it were the case that the framers intended the Declaration to be a legal document, then the character, motives, and conduct of the framers should be drawn into question because, as many of them were slave holders, they would be positing a law only in order to break it. The Declaration, however, was never intended as a legally binding document but was set up as what Lincoln calls "a standard maxim for free society which should be familiar to all and revered by all; constantly looked to, constantly labored for, and even though never perfectly attained, constantly approximated” (731). Human law addresses the practical concerns and everyday attitudes of a society and, therefore, often does not ascend to the lofty standards of justice as embodied in natural law. If the natural rights of all men were simply written into the Declaration as legislation, it would be divisive and of little practical use in the rebellion against the British. This, however, was never the intention of the framers to begin with: the rebellion had already begun and the framers declared a standard around which to unite against a common foe and against which to justify their endeavor both to themselves and to men the world over. Chief Justice Taney’s interpretation of the Declaration of Independence is strange on at least two counts. First, although he mentions that "[the] language of the Declaration of Independence is equally conclusive” as to the fact that "the enslaved African race were not intended to be included and formed no part of the people who framed and adopted this declaration” (721-722), Taney immediately softens his 64 �point himself by going outside the language of the Declaration in order to make his case. Second, there is no need to even mention the Declaration to begin with, except to assert that the document has no legal relevance to the authority of the federal government under the Constitution. Chief Justice Taney’s statement of the principle of the union of the states was mentioned above. If one were to adhere to this principle strictly, then the Declaration would have no legal bearing on the function or authority of the federal government because it was never ratified by any of the states that established it. In the course of judicial review, any appeal to the Declaration concerning the question of Dred Scott's citizenship could be thrown out as outside the scope of the Constitution of the United States. Whatever his reasons for even bringing up the Declaration, by doing so. Chief Justice Taney throws open the doors to Lincoln’s criticism of his interpretation of it: by making it into an issue, he brings it into politics. Near the beginning of his treatment of the Dred Scott decision in his Springfield Speech of 1857, Lincoln mentions that he will refrain from discussing the "merits” of the Dred Scott decision and, instead, proceeds to assert his right to question its "correctness” (727J. We should make mention of the fact that Lincoln never directly challenges the constitutionality of the Dred Scott decision but limits himself to questioning the correctness of the historical facts and the interpretation of the Declaration that are used to justify it. As mentioned above, Lincoln, does assert that he believes the decision to be "erroneous” and that they should do what they can to "have it to overrule this,” but this statement is made after his statement of fact that the Court has overruled its own decisions in the past and the question is not fully settled. Lincoln could have addressed Taney more directly by questioning him on the principle of the union of the states or on his interpretation of the Constitution but he does not. We can begin to understand this when we consider that by mentioning the Declaration, Chief Justice Taney essentially moves the question of Dred Scott’s citizenship and the status of slavery in general from the realm of judicial review into the realm of the political and fundamentally changes the character of the debate. By bringing in the Declaration of Independence, Chief Justice Taney brings in natural law and what was once a question of the rights of slaves and property owners under the Constitution of the United States in Taney’s hands turns into a question of the justness of slavery in Lincoln’s. When we look back at the opinion of the Supreme Court concerning Dred Scott’s citizenship, we can perhaps^ say that it is both constitutionally valid and pernicious. It is constitutionally valid because it proceeded according to a sound interpretation of the meaning of ‘citizenship’ as it was understood according to the principle of the union of states upon which the Constitution was founded. It is pernicious because by fallaciously 65 �interpreting the Declaration of Independence as a document of human law, it allowed others to disregard its writers' intentions in the political realm. Endnotes 1. The Constitution of the United States, Article VII. 2. Lincoln writes: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all British subjects who where on this continent eighty-one years ago were created equal to all British subjects born and then residing in Britain.” 3. Another possibility, albeit a distant outlier, is that Chief Justice Taney brought in the Declaration of Independence in order to push the issue into the political realm in order to get resolved there. This, however, is not a claim that the author can fully stand behind. Primary Text Staff, Social Sciences I The College of the University of Chicago. The People Shall Judge. Volume I. Part II. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1949. �Wisdom and Wizardry: Vimalakirti's Inconceivable Technique for Reinvigorating the Dharma Brian Connolly We have it on Buddha's authority that everything is impermanent. As related in the discourses of the Pali canon, he arrived at this realization in the course of an extended meditation which took him from the state of samadhi through the higher jhanas of non-thinking and non-perception, culminating in his attainment of nirvana, the abandonment of all attachment to notions of a permanent self, and the cessation of suffering. Whether, and how, such knowledge could be transmitted was an immediate source of concern for Buddha, who doubted the possibility of leading others on the Eightfold Path and was only compelled to teach the Dharma at the behest of Brahma Sampati. The issue of transmission has also been a matter of debate for Buddha's followers in the millennia since his enlightenment, as different interpretations of the original teachings developed and different schools of thought took shape. The Mahayana, or "great vehicle” school, posits a broader vision of the Dharma than, and distinguishes itself from, the Hinayana or "small vehicle" school, a vision that emphasizes the role of enlightened bodhisattvas in liberating those living beings who are still suffering, while placing less emphasis on the Sravaka, or "hearers,” tradition of Dharma transmission from teacher to disciple. Among the texts considered central to Mahayana Buddhism is The Holy Teaching of Vimalakirti, the strange and wonderful title character of which challenges the complacency of Buddha's disciples and restores the Dharma's radical power to effect liberation by getting back to the heart of Buddha's message: recognizing the fundamental emptiness and impermanence of everything as a means of escaping suffering. Reading The Holy Teaching of Vimalakirti for the first time, in the context of Buddhist doctrine shaped by a series of discourses from the Pali canon [representing the core of the Dharma), to the Lotus Sutra [offering its Mahayana message of enlightenment for everyone, not just the sravakas — direct hearers — or monks), and Nagarjuna's Mulamadhayamakakarika [breaking down tendencies toward complacency or egoism with the relentless logic of his tetralemma), my reaction was to dismiss this text's fantastic episodes as mere special effects intended to keep readers or listeners entertained, thereby engaging their attention in the teaching itself, the fundamental impermanence of things. On the surface, Vimalakirti's teaching struck me as a clear rebuke to the sravakas and the Hinayana approach to the Dharma, characterized by 67 �strict adherence to the Pali discourses. What better way to widen the perspective of narrow-minded orthodoxy than by taking the doctrine to mind-bending extremes? VimalakTrti's embodiment of the characteristic qualities of a Buddha while simultaneously engaging in the everyday world, and the magical effects he employs in subverting the selfsatisfaction of Buddha's disciples, would seem to confirm his role as a larger-than-life counterpart to the Buddha. Thus, the initial questions I planned to investigate in this essay were, "Who is this Vimalakirti? Was he real, or simply made-up as a foil to Buddha, an expedient means for re­ animating his stodgy disciples? And how do his teachings bolster or undermine the Dharma as taught by Buddha?" As I approached the text again, paying closer attention to detail, it became harder to sustain any opposition between a "real" Buddha and a "make-believe" Vimalakirti. It became increasingly clear that the "inconceivable" technique employed by Vimalakirti was more than just rhetorical sleight of hand. The miraculous abilities attributed to Vimalakirti were not simply magical anecdotes included for dramatic effect. Rather, they were in fact performative demonstrations of his teaching that everything is magic, that the character of ultimate reality is like that of something conjured up by a magician — and that, no matter how deeply we penetrate into the nature of things, we will never find such a magician at work nor learn the trick. The question, "Who is Vimalakirti?" took on a deeper significance, pointing to other, larger questions (e.g. "What does VimalakTrti's teaching regarding the magical nature of ultimate reality say about the truth or reality of Buddha's enlightenment and the 'original Dharma' as described in the Pali Canon?") and, perhaps, to the biggest question of all: "Is anything real?" Rather than tackling that one head-on, though, it might be wiser to begin by investigating the meaning of magic in this mysterious text, starting with Buddha's conversion of the bodhisattva's umbrellas into a billion-fold canopy of jewels. As soon as all these precious parasols had been laid down, suddenly, by the miraculous power of the Lord, they were transformed into a single precious canopy so great that it formed a covering for this entire billion-world galaxy. The surface of the entire billion-world galaxy was reflected in the interior of the great precious canopy, where the total content of this galaxy could be seen: limitless mansions of suns, moons and stellar bodies; the realm of the devas, nagas, yaksas ... all the great oceans, rivers, bays, torrents, streams, brooks, and springs; finally all the villages, suburbs, cities, capitals, provinces, and 68 �wildernesses. All this could be clearly seen by everyone. And the voices of all the Buddhas of the ten directions could be heard proclaiming their teachings of the Dharma in all the worlds, the sounds reverberating in the space beneath the great precious canopy. (12) As if this were not already an indication of the supernatural character of the text that will follow, the hymn with which "the young Licchavi Ratnakara" responds to the parasol marvel characterizes Buddha in a particularly revealing way, hailing his "inconceivable miraculous power": Pure is your thought, having transcendence of all trances ... discovered the supreme Although the Lord speaks with but one voice. Those present perceive that same voice differently. And each understands in his own language according to his own need. This is a special quality of the Buddha ... You nullify all signs in all things everywhere. You are not subject to any wish for anything at all. The miraculous power of the Buddhas is inconceivable. 1 bow to you, who stand nowhere, like infinite space. (13-15) The introductory phase of the text concludes with Buddha's explication of the meaning of buddha-fields — that individuals do not attain enlightenment in a vacuum, as it were, but in interdependent relation to all the other beings in their sphere at that moment. He then performs a marvel rivaling, if not exceeding, the illumination of the parasols, tapping the universe with his big toe in order to illustrate a point about the power of perspective: Thereupon the Lord touched the ground of this billionworld-galactic universe with his big toe, and suddenly it was transformed into a huge mass of precious jewels, a magnificent array of many hundreds of thousands of clusters of precious gems, until it resembled the universe of the Tathagata Ratnavyuha, called Anantagunaratnavyuha. Everyone in the entire assembly was filled with wonder, each perceiving himself on a throne of jeweled lotuses. 69 �. . . The Buddha said, "Sariputra, this buddha-field is always thus pure, but the Tathagata makes it appear to be spoiled by many faults, in order to bring about the maturity of inferior living beings. (19] Among the myriad onlookers who experience advancement toward enlightenment upon witnessing this manifestation of Buddha's magnificence are "eighty-four thousand living beings who were devoted to the grandeur of the buddha-field” [19]. Furthermore, it is they who, "having understood that all things are by nature but magical creations, all conceived in their own minds the spirit of unexcelled, totally perfect enlightenment" (19]. The spontaneous liberation of these eighty-four thousand living beings foreshadows the "inconceivable liberative" teaching of Vimalakirti and his magical approach to enlightenment, which takes up the remainder of the text. The hyperbolic description of Vimalakirti given in the second chapter holds several clues as to his peculiar character and to his role as a teacher of the Dharma. Vimalakirti is portrayed as the embodiment of a host of seemingly impossible-to-reconcile contradictions. He epitomizes all the qualities of arahantship without having taken on the renunciative, meditative life of Buddha's disciples, and he shares Buddha's "special quality” of being understood by different people according to their needs. To paraphrase Shakespeare, he "out-Buddha's Buddha.”i Far from withdrawing from the world of samsara, he is described as being fully engaged in the everyday world of temptation and sin — though only in order to practice his liberating technique and guide other beings to the Dharma: He made his appearance at the fields of sports and in the casinos, but his aim was always to mature those people who were attached to games and gambling ... He engaged in all sorts of businesses, yet had no interest in profit or possessions. To train living beings, he would appear at crossroads and on street corners, and to protect them he participated in government. To turn people away from the Hinayana and to engage them in the Mahayana, he appeared among listeners and teachers of the Dharma .. . To demonstrate the evils of desire, he even entered the brothels. To establish drunkards in correct mindfulness, he entered all the cabarets. (21] Note the reference to turning people away from the Hinayana and toward the Mahayana; this places the text itself in the category of a manifestation 70 �of Vimalakirti's liberative technique, since it documents a series of his appearances "among listeners and teachers of the Dharma." The central conceit of the text is Vimalakirti's feigned illness. He states that he has undertaken to manifest this illness in order to solicit the concern of other living beings in the buddha-field, so that he might then liberate them by means of his "inconceivable” technique. When word spreads that he is not well, people flock from the nearby villages and surrounding countryside to offer their sympathy. He instructs them on the difference between the physical body ("so impermanent, fragile, unworthy of confidence, and feeble") and the "Tathagata body” ("born of gnosis . . . truth . . . reality . . . conscious awareness . . . ”), urging them to aspire toward the latter and to "conceive the spirit of unexcelled, perfect enlightenment” in order to "eliminate the sicknesses of the passions of all living beings” (23). Vimalakirti will later expand on this basic teaching to the community in his discourse on how to minister to a sick bodhisattva. However, it will be some time before any bodhisattvas or disciples check in to see what condition his condition is in. Although Buddha intuits Vimalakirti's condition telepathically, and calls on his disciples to attend to him in his convalescence, all of them refuse except the crown prince Manjusri, each citing as the justification for his reluctance an episode in which he has been shown up by the enlightened layman. In each case, Vimalakirti's intervention destabilizes the secure position of the disciple, exhorting him to practice wholeheartedly in full engagement in the present, rather than limiting his practice or his teaching to dogmatic emulation of Buddha, dissuading him from believing himself to be enlightened and somehow excused from further participation in life. Each of the boddhisattvas is mistaken to the extent that he is quantifying the state of enlightenment that he considers himself to have attained, or reifying the Dharma in a way that compromises its ineffable nature, obscuring the "voidness” or impermanence of everything, the realization of which is the catalyst of liberation. Vimalakirti deconstructs their mistakes, playing the role of Buddha in destroying the last major obstacle to their liberation: their attachment to their roles as disciples and to their dualistic conception of enlightenment. Vimalakirti's exchange with the venerable Subhuti, whom he teases with a barrage of impossible-to-uphold precepts as the latter attempts to carry out his daily alms-round, indicates the text's position regarding the role of language both as a medium for interpreting reality — to be taken with a grain of salt — and as a means of liberation — to be understood as its ultimate meaning: 71 �"Reverend Subhuti, do not fear these words, and pick up your bowl. What do you think, reverend Subhuti? If it were an incarnation created by the Tathagata who spoke thus to you, would you be afraid?" I answered, "No indeed, noble sir!" He then said, "Reverend Subhuti, the nature of all things is like an illusion, like a magical incarnation. So you should not fear them. Why? All words also have that nature, and thus the wise are not attached to words, nor do they fear them. Why? All language does not ultimately exist, except as liberation. The nature of all things is liberation." (28) The disciple Ananda's encounter with Vimalakirti, in which the former has been sent to obtain some milk for an indisposed Buddha, ends in much the same fashion, albeit with a punchline delivered by a disembodied voice from the sky: "Go and get the milk!” (37). Another disciple, the venerable Upali, is chided when Vimalakirti overhears him disciplining two bhiksus. Vimalakirti points out that their transgression and shame are expressions of their mistaken, dualistic understanding of the situation, so addressing the issue in terms of an offender being punished would only further aggravate their suffering. In Vimalakirti's account, since they are not autonomous selves acting in reference to a fixed standard of behavior, there is neither agent nor misdeed. With both of these belonging to the categories of dualistic thought, not the thinking of ultimate reality, a different solution must be sought, reflecting the true nature of ultimate reality: "Reverend Upali, the mind is neither within nor without, nor is it to be apprehended between the two. Sin is just the same as the mind, and all things are just the same as sin. They do not escape this same reality. "Reverend Upali, this nature of the mind, by virtue of which your mind, reverend, is liberated — does it ever become afflicted?" "Never,” [Upali] replied. "Reverend Upali, the minds of all living beings have that very nature. Reverend Upali, passions consist of conceptualizations. The ultimate nonexistence of these conceptualizations and imaginary fabrications — that is the purity that is the intrinsic nature of the mind. Misapprehensions are passions. The ultimate absence of misapprehensions is the intrinsic nature of the mind. The 72 �presumption of self is passion. The absence of self is the intrinsic nature of the mind. Reverend Upali, all things are without production, destruction, and duration, like magical illusions, clouds, and lightning; all things are evanescent, not remaining even for an instant; all things are like dreams, hallucinations, and unreal visions; all things are like the reflection of the moon in water and like a mirror-image; they are born of mental construction. Those who know this are called the true upholders of the discipline, and those disciplined in that way are indeed well disciplined." (30-31] This radical formulation of the philosophy of impermanence speaks for itself; while letting it sink in, and before moving on, it is worth noting the way in which Vimalakirti plays on Upali's belief in his own enlightenment in order to draw him toward the broader view of the mind's intrinsic nature. This is another example of Vimalakirti 's Buddha-like ability to connect with interlocutors in just the right way. Vimalakirti further clarifies the Dharma regarding enlightenment, and the role of bodhisattvas in liberating living beings, in his exchange with Maitreya, one of the major Buddhas in the Mahayana tradition. He encounters the latter discussing "the stage of nonregression of the great bodhisattvas” with "the gods of the Tusita heaven, the god Samtusita and his retinue," and steps in to set the record straight; Maitreya, do not fool and delude these deities! No one abides in, or regresses from, enlightenment. Maitreya, you should introduce these deities to the repudiation of all discriminative constructions concerning enlightenment. (34-5] He goes on to offer the most explicit account yet of what enlightenment actually means: . . . Enlightenment is free of presumptions concerning all objects. Enlightenment is free of the functioning of all intentional thoughts. Enlightenment is the annihilation of all convictions. Enlightenment is free from all discriminative constructions. Enlightenment is free from all vacillation, mentation, and agitation. Enlightenment is not involved in any commitments. Enlightenment is the arrival at detachment, through freedom from all habitual attitudes. The ground of enlightenment is the ultimate realm. Enlightenment is the realization of reality. (35] 73 �In case Maitreya might still have the idea that attaining enlightenment isn't so hard, after all, Vimalakirti wraps up his account with this mind-arresting aporia: Enlightenment is without subjectivity and completely without object. Enlightenment, which penetrates the equality of all things, is undifferentiated. Enlightenment, which is not shown by any example, is incomparable. Enlightenment is subtle, since it is extremely difficult to realize. Enlightenment is all-pervasive, as it has the nature of infinite space. Enlightenment cannot be realized, either physically or mentally. Why? The body is like grass, trees, walls, paths, and hallucinations. And the mind is immaterial, invisible, baseless, and unconscious. (35) In the face of such inscrutable insight, who can blame the disciples and bodhisattvas for feeling intimidated by Vimalakirti? As the text moves into its main narrative phase, crown prince Manjusri agrees to visit the ailing Vimalakirti. In the course of their conversation, Vimalakirti explains how one ought to minister to a sick bodhisattva — recalling the ostensible premise of the narrative and stressing once again the doctrine of impermanence and emptiness: What is the elimination of this sickness? It is the elimination of egoism and possessiveness. What is the elimination of egoism and possessiveness? It is the freedom from dualism. What is the freedom from dualism? It is the absence of involvement with either the external or the internal. What is the absence of involvement with either the external or the internal? It is nondeviation, nonfluctuation, and nondistraction from equanimity. What is equanimity? It is the equality of everything from self to liberation. Why? Because both self and liberation are void. How can they be void? As verbal designations, they both are void, and neither is established in reality. Therefore, one who sees such equality makes no difference between sickness and voidness; his sickness is itself voidness, and that sickness as voidness is itself void. (45) Void, indeed — especially given the blow Vimalakirti has struck against language's ability to express truth or accurately encompass reality. In a discourse full of incisive insights into the Dharma, this is Vimalakirti at his most radical: he has feigned illness in order to draw an 74 �audience to hear his teaching that all illness is "feigned," that reality itself is ultimately empty. He then uses the metaphor of sickness to lay out the bodhisattva's mission, in striking simplicity: Although both pleasure and pain are abandoned when the buddha-qualities are fully accomplished, there is then no sacrifice of the great compassion for all living beings in the bad migrations. Thus, recognizing in his own suffering the infinite sufferings of these living beings, the bodhisattva correctly contemplates these living beings and resolves to cure all sicknesses. As for these living beings, there is nothing to be appiied, and there is nothing to be removed; one has oniy to teach them the Dharma, for them to realize the basis from which sicknesses arise. What is this basis? It is object-perception . . . (45-6, my itaiics) Having brought the discussion back around to "object-perception" — referred to elsewhere in the text in terms of dualism and egoism — as a crucial factor in the fabrication of our delusions about reality, Vimalakirti proceeds to outline "the domain of the bodhisattva" in terms that evoke Buddha's Middle Path: "Not the domain of the ordinary individual and not the domain of the saint, such is the domain of the bodhisattva" (47). One of the funniest moments in the text^ follows the arrival of Buddha, his disciples, and assorted bodhisattvas at Vimalakirti's house, the disciples' erstwhile reluctance having been overcome by their sense of "safety in numbers" once Manjusri ventures to visit the intimidating instructor of the Dharma. Before the guests arrive, Vimalakirti casts a spell on the furniture, making it invisible and setting the scene for the following exchange: Thereupon, the venerable Sariputra had this thought: "There is not even a single chair in this house. Where are these disciples and bodhisattvas going to sit?" The Licchavi Vimalakirti read the thought of the venerable Sariputra and said, "Reverend Sariputra, did you come here for the sake of the Dharma? Or did you come here for the sake of a chair?" Sariputra replied, "I came for the sake of the Dharma, not for the sake of a chair." (51) Aside from the obvious humor here, and the injunction not to miss the point of the teaching by getting distracted by concerns of protocol or 75 �personal comfort, this scene also invokes Vimalaklrti's critique of the sravaka's sedentary approach to Dharma, predicated for the most part on prolonged seated meditation. Soon, there is more magical manipulation of furniture as Vimalakirti conjures up thirty-two hundred thousand thrones, elaborately jeweled and impossibly (forty-two thousand leagues?!) tall, from the Merudhvaja universe. These thrones "arranged themselves without crowding" as the house "seemed to enlarge itself accordingly;” although, the text notes, "Everything else appeared just as it did before" (51-2). Those bodhisattvas "who had attained the superknowledges” then magnify themselves and sit down. When the "beginner bodhisattvas" complain that they cannot reach such lofty seats, Vimalakirti gives them a lesson that enables them "to attain the five superknowledges” and take their seats, leaving only the hapless disciples of Buddha to remain, unable to mount their thrones. Vimalakirti instructs them to bow to the Tathagata Merupradiparaja (who sent the thrones at Vimalaklrti's telepathic request), which does the trick, so to speak: the disciples find themselves instantly grown to the appropriate size and seated among the others. This initially struck me as more puzzling than the spell of invisibility Vimalakirti cast on his household furniture; however, it makes sense in the context of Vimalaklrti's motive for applying — and teaching — his inconceivable liberative technique, namely to show the Dharma to those who have not been able to see it, and to clarify it for those who have mistaken it for something more, or less, than what it is. Just as Buddha's tapping of his big toe to illuminate the billion-world-galactic universe provided a momentary reminder that everything is always perfect, if only we would see it as such, so Vimalaklrti's manipulation of the thrones suggests that all the disciples who feel unworthy (or left out) need to do to participate in the magic is to acknowledge its reality. Enlightenment only happens right now, each moment, and if one is hesitant or less than wholeheartedly present, then this is not that moment. As long as one treats enlightenment, Buddha, or the Dharma as if they were unreachable or magical, and this (world, body, mind, self) as if it were real — and thus incapable of "magical” transformation — so long will one keep oneself from "attaining” enlightenment, or understanding Buddha, or realizing the Dharma in the present, here and now. Vimalaklrti's performative use of magic suggests that the failure to achieve liberation, represented here by doubt and feelings of unworthiness, is not as big a problem as one might think; It is not a "real” problem, at all. Rather, it is a failure on the part of the imagination or consciousness to let go of dualistic thinking - thinking that posits enlightenment or the Dharma as anything other than full realization of 76 �the present moment in the present moment — which could never be conceived of "as such," in words or ideas. This is, of course, another demonstration of the aptness of the name of Vimalakirti 's technique: "inconceivable.” Enlightenment is inconceivable because of the unthinkable, unspeakable complexity of the interdependent conditions converging in the singular moment of liberation, which is always right now. This inconceivability makes any discussion of past experiences, let alone past lives, rather beside the point for any but the most qualified bodhisattvas. The same applies to speculation about the future, especially the terms and time-table of one's attainment of nirvana. This is not to devalue the role of meditative practice or study of the Dharma as recorded in the Pali canon. For these are among the means that can help one reduce one's attachments to the point where one realizes the inconceivability of ultimate reality. Neither practice nor study, however, can definitively account for the experience of enlightenment; it is beyond all... (fill in the blank). The question that most troubles me when I consider the simultaneous enormity and ineffability of all this — namely, how one is supposed to feel compassion toward others in the wake of such an inconceivable experience — is taken up in the chapter entitled, "The Goddess": Manjusri then asked further, "Noble sir, if a bodhisattva considers all living beings in such a way, how does he generate the great love [karuna] toward them?” Vimalakirti replied, "Manjusri, when a bodhisattva considers all living beings in this way, he thinks: Just as I have realized the Dharma, so should 1 teach it to living beings.” Thereby, he generates the love that is truly a refuge for all living beings; the love that is peaceful because free of grasping; the love that is not feverish, because free of passion; the love that accords with reality because it is equanimous in all three times; the love that is without conflict because free of the violence of the passions; the love that is nondual because it is involved neither with the external nor the internal; the love that is imperturbable because totally ultimate.” (57] This kind of compassion toward others bears little resemblance to conventional, dualistic formulae of concern — "I love you” or "I care about your suffering” — which reveal even in their syntax the opposition between subject and object that is reconciled in Vimalakirti's teaching. 77 �What he describes is compassion that arises out of a deep understanding of our interdependence, and out of the awareness that suffering — because it is not real — is unnecessary. It is not a subject's self-interested seeking of validation from other empowered egos, nor the quid pro quo logic of a social economy of discrete souls negotiating the daily transactions of their alienated existences. Soon after Vimalakirti's explication of this inconceivable compassion, the "goddess" of the chapter's title engages in an exchange with Sariputra, delivering another iteration of the teaching about ultimate reality (and making a striking point about gender and equanimity, at the same time]. First, she offers this analogy: Goddess: Although I have sought my "female state" for these twelve years, I have not yet found it. Reverend Sariputra, if a magician were to incarnate a woman by magic, would you ask her, "what prevents you from transforming yourself out of your female state?" Sariputra: No! Such a woman would not really exist, so what would there be to transform? Goddess: Just so. Reverend Sariputra, all things do not really exist. (61) Then, after magically trading bodies with Sariputra and then trading back, the goddess pushes him to make the connection to the broader question of liberation, not so subtly critiquing his self-assurance regarding nirvana in one of the text's finest (and funniest] episodes of dialectic: Goddess: Reverend Sariputra, what have you done with your female form? Sariputra: I neither made it nor did I change it. Goddess: Just so, all things are neither made nor changed, and that they are not made and not changed, that is the teaching of the Buddha. Sariputra: Goddess, where will you be born when you transmigrate after death? Goddess: I will be born where all the magic incarnations of the Tathagata are born. Sariputra: But the emanated incarnations of the Tathagata do not transmigrate nor are they born. 78 �Goddess: All things and living beings are just the same; they do not transmigrate nor are they born! Sariputra: Goddess, how soon will you attain the perfect enlightenment of Buddhahood? Goddess: At such time as you, elder, become endowed once more with the qualities of an ordinary individual, then will I attain the perfect enlightenment of Buddhahood. Sariputra: Goddess, it is impossible that I should become endowed once more with the qualities of an ordinary individual. Goddess: Just so, reverend Sariputra, it is impossible that I should attain the perfect enlightenment of Buddhahood! Why? Because perfect enlightenment stands upon the impossible. Because it is impossible, no one attains the perfect enlightenment of Buddhahood. (62] This humorous "harassment” of one bodhisattva by another highlights the danger of conceiving of oneself as extraordinary, and underscores once more the radical ineffability of the Dharma. The text reaches its climax with Vimalakirti's minification of the universe in which he attained nirvana — a sort of magic show-and-tell for the disciples and bodhisattvas. By this point, it is hard to imagine any attentive reader still registering surprise at the supernatural extent of his technique. That this demonstration is another performative expression of the "inconceivable liberation” is shown by the way the episode concludes: While Vimalakirti, with his miraculous power, showed them thus the universe Abhirati and the Tathagata Aksobhya, one hundred and forty thousand living beings among the men and gods of the Saha universe conceived the spirit of unexcelled, perfect enlightenment, and all of them formed a prayer to be reborn in the universe Abhirati. And the Buddha prophesied that in the future all would be reborn in the universe Abhirati. And the Licchavi Vimalakirti, having thus developed all the living beings who could thereby be developed, returned the universe Abhirati exactly to its former place. (66] The response of Sariputra, one of Buddha's closest disciples (and the target of many of the text's slights of the Hinayana school], hails Vimalakirti's prowess as a liberator and suggests a Mahayana 79 �interpretation of Buddha's legacy ("whether the Tathagata himself still actually exists ...together with a suggestion (though there is "no need to mention” it) of how this teaching might be applied: We have gained great benefit from having seen a holy man such as he. We have gained a great benefit from having heard such teaching of the Dharma, whether the Tathagata himself still actually exists or whether he has already attained ultimate liberation. Hence, there is no need to mention the great benefit for those who, having heard it, believe it, rely on it, embrace it, remember it, read it, and penetrate to its depth; and having found faith in it, teach, recite, and show it to others and apply themselves to the yoga of meditation upon its teaching. (95) It might be tempting to contrast the giddy sensationalism of the Vimalaklrti text with the scientific approach found in some of the Pali canon discourses. In the former, universes become playthings and furniture is magically manipulated; in the latter, Buddha methodically analyses the 12-linked chain of dependent arising and catalogs series upon series of wholesome and unwholesome conditions and aggregates. At the heart of both teachings, however, is the recognition of the fundamental impermanence of everything. While he was living and teaching the Dharma, Buddha is described as having been able to tell any student or interlocutor just what they needed to hear to realize the Way. Vimalaklrti demonstrates this same skill in his application of the Dharma, exposing the rut into which the disciples' practice has fallen — a rut that threatens any such complacent or selfish practice. Vimalaklrti teaches that realizing the Dharma can never be reduced to a strictly renunciative or monastic approach, for the very reduction implies a dualistic attachment to a self that distinguishes that particular approach as privileged or exclusive, when the truth is infinitely more complicated — inconceivably so, in fact. Dogmatism, even when well-intentioned or employed in the service of a method as thorough­ going as Buddha's, is merely the replacement of one set of illusions with another. Subscribing to a particular view and excluding other perspectives establishes new, more intractable obstacles on one's path to liberation, rather than facilitating the inconceivable insight that leads one to see all obstacles as constructs formed by the interaction of "internal" consciousness and "external" reality. Abandoning the dualism of a "real" subject trying to find its way in a "real" world, one is free to become a participant in the reality of what is happening right now. 80 �Was Vimalakirti a real historical person, like Siddhartha Gautama, or simply a fictional character created to revitalize the Dharma and reclaim the radical message of the latter's teachings? I certainly do not know, but as people often say about a pivotal figure in history, if he did not exist, someone would have had to invent him. Somehow, perhaps through the inevitable sedimentation and erosion that affects any tradition in the course of time, in the wake of Buddha's death the Dharma as he taught it was reduced to a shadow, if not a caricature, of itself as it was codified and passed on from one generation of seekers to the next, thus, cementing certain formal aspects of Buddhist practice and investing authority in hierarchical institutions that exercised dogmatic supervision. Whereas the living Buddha could teach the Dharma effectively to any audience, be they bhiksus, bodhisattvas, or laypeople, after his death that unlimited flexibility was lost as the method became enshrined, fixed in the minds of monastic followers as limited strictly to the original Dharma lessons. Distinctions which Buddha may have employed merely "for the sake of discourse" — literally, as expedient means to facilitate the liberation of other living beings — came to be taken as strict divisions between the different ways in which one could undertake to learn the Dharma, as if only one special school of magicians could ever learn the trick, or only one decoder ring could crack the code. Vimalakirti demonstrates that in a world of make-believe, we are all participants in the magic, and the open secret is that we only suffer and inflict suffering on others when we forget that fundamental truth. Enlightenment — the realization this very moment that everything is impermanent and interdependent — can be thought of as the state of being "in on the secret.” Whether one learns a secret quickly or only finds it out after being "in the dark” for a long time, the dawning of awareness cannot really be said to happen by itself, because so many variables necessarily are involved. This is the implication of Buddha's doctrine of dependent arising. The process whereby one is liberated from one's attachments is always co-determined by a myriad of internal factors and external circumstances, so it does not really happen spontaneously or "out of the blue.” One can surely say, however, that it happens "as if by magic,” because it can never be explained in rational terms. By revealing the magical nature of ultimate reality, Vimalakirti does not undermine Buddha's original Dharma, but deconstructs it and restores its original power to liberate beings from suffering through the abandonment of views and the breaking of attachments. His upbraiding of Buddha's disciples, illuminating the gulf between their sedentary, intellectualized practice and the engaged compassion of a true bodhisattva, is a reminder to all seekers of enlightenment not to take 81 �themselves, or their inherently limited conceptual notions of the Dharma, too seriously. Concepts and language can never encompass, penetrate or explain ultimate reality. Thus, they must be used provisionally without insistence upon some essential connection between ideas or words, on the one hand, and reality, on the other. Such an insistent, dogmatic approach to Dharma, philosophy or the routines and habits of daily life — the belief that reality can be definitively known and that application of such definitive knowledge can be applied to achieve concrete results — is doomed from the moment an autonomous subject is posited. This belief necessitates the post facto construction of processes and causal relationships to attempt to account for an inconceivably profound reality that is far more integral, more intricately interconnected, than we can ever imagine. Vimalakirti's insight into the tenuous relationship between thought, language and reality, foreshadows the post-modern "hermeneutical turn" epitomized by the writings of Husserl, Heidegger, Derrida and Deleuze, among other "Western" thinkers, and reminds us that in the face of the ineffability of the things themselves — the magical inconceivability of it all — it is wiser to proceed with a sense of wonder (or, at least, respect) than with a set of solipsistic prejudices, be they psychological or metaphysical. In the text's final chapter, "The Dharma-Door of Non-Duality," after the bodhisattvas have expounded on a myriad of seeming oppositions that are overcome when seen from a non-dual perspective, crown prince Manjusri is asked to give his version of the teaching; he gently chides the bodhisattvas for missing the point — again — then offers his own succinct definition of nonduality before deferring to Vimalakirti for further elucidation: Manjusri replied, "Good sirs, you have all spoken well. Nevertheless, all your explanations are themselves dualistic. To know no one teaching, to express nothing, to say nothing, to explain nothing, to announce nothing, to indicate nothing, and to designate nothing — that is the entrance into nonduality." Then the crown prince Manjusri said to the Licchavi Vimalakirti: "We have all given our own teachings, noble sir. Now, may you elucidate the teaching of the entrance into the principle of nonduality!" Thereupon, the Licchavi Vimalakirti kept his silence, saying nothing at all. 82 �The crown prince Manjusri applauded the Liccavi VimalakTrti: "Excellent! Excellent, noble sir! This is indeed the entrance into the nonduality of the bodhisattvas. Here there is no use for syllables, sounds, and ideas.” (77] Taking my cue from Vimalakirti's silence and from the five thousand bodhisattvas who, having witnessed it, "entered the door of the Dharma of nonduality and attained tolerance of the birthlessness of things,” I will conclude the essay here, leaving the Dharma-door open, as it were, to further interpretation, assenting to VimalakTrti's inconceivable logic by not saying anything more. Endnotes 1. "It out-Herod's Herod. Pray you, avoid it." -Hamlet (III,ii,14-15). William Shakespeare, Hamlet, in The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works, (Thomson Learning: 2007), 311. 2. Cited in seminar by Mr. Franks. Primary Text Thurman, Robert A. F., trans. The Holy Teaching of VimalakTrti (Vimalakirti Sutra]. Pennsylvania University Press: 1976. �The Problem of Pederasty in Plato's Phaedrus John Hungerford In Plato’s Phaedrus Socrates gives two speeches, each providing an account of erotic love. These two speeches appear to be opposites, and in fact Socrates presents the second (Palinode] as a correction of the first. It is tempting to interpret the first speech simply as a rhetorical demonstration by Socrates which requires repair by the second speech. However, a close look at the first speech reveals that it is in fact a necessary complement to the second speech. This paper will examine in detail the second half of this first speech, in which Socrates lays out the reasons why a boy should not gratify a lover. In doing so, this paper will attempt to gain some insight into the concerns of the lover and the beloved regarding erotic relationships. Socrates begins the second part of his speech with the suggestion that since the definition of love has been stated, we should now look at the benefit and harm produced by gratifying the lover or non-lover. It is worth noting that the earlier criteria for an appropriate definition of love were "what kind of thing it is” and "what powers it has" (237d]. Socrates has met at least the first of these criteria by defining love as a certain kind of desire, but it is not clear exactly what its powers are. In fact, it seems that by enumerating the benefits and harms produced by gratification, we will gain some sense of its power, but then why does Socrates claim that the definition is already adequately set down? One possible answer to this question is that in defining Eros as a desire which "masters opinion striving toward what's correct,” Socrates meant us to regard this as its power. It is worth noting that Socrates does not say that it overcomes opinion aiming at the "best” as he had phrased it in his account of moderation, but instead uses the Greek word to opdov, suggesting a more conventional concern. Perhaps love's power (or at least, the power it might have that would be of interest to the philosopher] is its ability to "conquer” conventional opinion. It is also worth noting that Socrates identifies the desire for beautiful bodies as the source of this power, regardless of whether or not love is at bottom directed toward the beautiful as such. In applying this definition to the question of gratification, Socrates observes that "one ruled by desire and a slave to pleasure must... make preparations for the beloved to be as pleasant as possible” (238e]. This statement becomes the basis for his whole account of the lover’s actions in relation to his boyfriend. While this makes sense given love's definition, this characterization of the lover overlooks the earlier ambiguity regarding the object of love’s desire. We recall that there are at 84 �least two kinds of desire attributed to the lover: the desire for the pleasure of beauty, and the desire for beautiful bodies. It is not clear which of these will be his priority in dealing with the beloved, and depending on which the priority is, his behavior might be very different. In fact, from the definition, it seems that love is directed primarily toward beauty itself [or the pleasure of beauty). We recall that this definition ultimately amounted to "desire without reason which masters the opinion striving toward what’s correct and is led toward the pleasure of beauty, and which, in turn mightily gaining strength from desires that are akin to itself toward the beauty of bodies, conquers in its leading" (238b-c). As such, the lover in the strictest sense of the word would try to get as close as possible to beauty understood this way. The fact that love gains its "might" from the secondary desire for beautiful bodies suggests, however, that such desires would likely play some role in even the purest of lovers. As such, we should expect the inclinations of the lover to be somewhat mixed. While he might be more or less concerned with pleasures of the body, we should also wonder if he might have a deeper concern for beauty that would prevent him from simply seeking sexual pleasure from the beloved. Socrates' first claim in his account of the benefit and harm of Erotic love is that "to a sick person, everything that does not resist is pleasant, while what is stronger or equal is hateful." Socrates seems to appeal to the terms Phaedrus has set for Socrates' speech: "I shall grant you to set down the lover's being more sick than the nonlover" [236b). It is important to recognize however, that Socrates himself never endorses this opinion. Phaedrus’ concession was actually in response to a very different observation by Socrates: "who, do you suppose, saying that one must gratify the nonlover rather than the lover, would pass over lauding the one's prudence and blaming the other's folly?" [235e-236a). While Socrates is willing to demonstrate the lover’s folly, it is not clear that he means the lover is necessarily sick, as Phaedrus assumed. We should therefore wonder, regarding Socrates’ claim in his speech, whether there might not be a healthy sort of lover, and what he might be like. More specifically, we should wonder whether a lover might be willing to endure, or perhaps sometimes even prefer resistance. Taking into account these last two considerations [first, that the pleasure sought by the lover might be that of beauty itself and not necessarily sexual, and second, that the lover might not be sick and therefore might be willing to tolerate resistance), we end up having multiple possibilities to consider in the course of the argument. On the surface, it seems we are meant to assume a sick lover whose concern is for getting sexual gratification as easily as possible. Underneath this. 85 �however, we must consider the possibility of a healthy lover concerned with the beautiful as such, and what his relation to the beloved might be.i This possibility becomes immediately relevant to his argument. In enumerating the consequences of these premises, Socrates begins with the effect the lover will have on the boy's intellect. He lists a number of weaknesses which he argues will make the beloved easier to catch. The lover, he claims, will want his boy to be unlearned, cowardly, incapable of speaking, and slow of wit. While it is possible that all of these will help the lover catch the boy, we have to wonder whether some part of the boy’s attractiveness is sacrificed in this. The argument only makes sense for the lover if he is merely concerned with the pleasure of the boy's body. As we have seen, however, it is not clear that this is the lover’s only concern; in fact, it might not even be the essential concern of Eros. Socrates’ expansion of this to the cultivation of the beloved’s soul has a similar problem. Socrates claims that the lover will do everything to keep the beloved away from beneficial associations because he is "afraid of being despised” (239b]. The most beneficial of these he identifies as that which enables him to become a philosopher. This argument seems relevant only to those lovers who risk being despised by boys with intelligence. In other words, it is the lovers who do not deserve lovers that run this risk. This is very likely a concern for any lover with a realistic degree of insecurity. However, it also ignores an important possibility: namely, that some lovers might be concerned with deserving the affection of the boy. Such a concern might encourage the lover to improve himself, and might also cause him to be attracted to more intelligent boys whose affection would be more valuable to him. Despite this possibility, we must admit that regardless of the caliber of the lover, it remains a problem that as long as the lover is concerned with having the boy as his boyfriend, it is unlikely that he would want the boy to become better than himself if the boy would lose interest as a result. This seems to indicate a basic problem with love and friendship, and a limit to the possibility of goodwill.^ The resolution of this problem seems only possible if the lover is the best possible, or if the lover’s relationship with the boy is not his primary concern. The problem with the sick lover becomes more pronounced when Socrates considers his attitude toward the beloved’s body. Here Socrates observes that the lover, wanting his beloved to be as pleasant as possible, will seek a boy who is "soft and not solid, reared not in pure sunlight but under mixed shade, inexperienced in manly toils and hard sweat but experienced in a delicate and unmanly way of life, adorned with alien colors and ornaments for want of his own, practicing all the other things that follow from this” (239c]. As with the case of the intellectual virtues, 86 �we might wonder whether the lover might not want his beloved to have a physique which reflects strength or fitness of some kind. We might expect manlier qualities to be attractive to the lover. Socrates brings our attention to this possibility when he points out that a soft and feminine boy would wear "alien colors and ornaments for want of his own," suggesting that the cultivation of the body in manly pursuits might produce its own sort of decoration. This consideration, however, is complicated by the fact that the lover is drawn to younger boys, typically before the manlier features of their bodies become prominent (e.g. when a beard first begins to appear, but before it becomes dark and thick). It seems that Greek lovers were drawn to boys when they were softer and more feminine in appearance. However, if it were simply a "feminine” beauty that they were drawn to, why did they fall in love with boys and not girls — or why adolescent rather than pre­ adolescent boys? Perhaps pederasty itself speaks to a certain tension in one's understanding of the beautiful. Lovers of boys must have been attracted to the soft and delicate sort of beauty we might associate with the feminine, but they are nevertheless drawn toward a masculine embodiment of it. If this is the case, we must suppose that their interest in boys is not derived entirely from the body. By bringing our attention to these two different standards of the fitness of the body, we are lead to wonder whether the concern for beautiful bodies is as simple as we might have assumed: It seems that the beauty sought in pederasty must be more than concern for physical beauty, and that some concern for the soul of the beloved must be present. Socrates expands his discussion of the cultivation of the body with his final observation that the body preferred by the lover in question (and we must ask whether this speaks for all lovers) will be particularly unsuited to help the beloved’s city, friends, and lovers in war or other times of need. By reminding us of the utility of a manly sort of body in the polis, Socrates brings our attention to a conventional dimension of aesthetics. While Socrates raises this consideration as though it were secondary, we have to wonder whether at least part of the preference for tough, rugged, and otherwise manly appearances comes from the fact that it is necessary for the city's protection (and perhaps often for the private family’s protection) to have such men around. In other words, it seems that some aspect of the beautiful might come from a concern for utility, or for the good; what role such concerns play in our experience of the beautiful, however, is not entirely clear. After looking at the harm that will befall the beloved’s body under the supervision of the lover, Socrates turns the discussion toward the boy’s possessions. Socrates does not begin with the possessions as we 87 �might understand them; i.e., such as property and wealth. Instead, he insists that "the lover would pray above all that the beloved be bereft of the most friendly, best-disposed, and most divine possessions; for he would accept the beloved’s being deprived of father, mother, kin, and friends, considering them hinderers and censors of the most pleasant intercourse with him” (239e-240a3. Socrates’ next claim regarding the boy’s possessions is that the lover will desire that the boy be deprived of a wealthy estate, as it would not make him easy "to catch, nor, when caught, as easily manageable” (240a). Socrates does not explain, however, why being wealthy would make the boy more difficult to catch. The most obvious possibility is that the boy would have no need of the lover if he were already rich. This suggestion, however, only applies if the boy’s only interest in the lover is for gain. There are suggestions in both this speech and in Lysias’s that perhaps the boy is willing to gratify the lover simply for some kind of material benefit. In the Palinode, however, Socrates suggests that the boy’s attraction to the lover is finally an Erotic one, but simply of a different sort. We have to wonder, then, whether boy’s wealth is a necessary consideration for lover. The Palinode therefore opens up the question of whether there might be a pederastic relationship which is not simply the trading of sex for gain, and whether a boy might love the lover in return regardless of the lover’s ability to provide for him.^ If Socrates’ account in the Palinode is accurate, it might even be the case that most (or perhaps even all) pederastic relationships are like this to some extent. In this case we must wonder why the lover needs to be concerned with the possessions of the boy at all. In the Symposium, for instance, we hear an account of Alcibiades — a beautiful, wealthy, aristocrat — availing himself for Socrates, who has not a penny.^ Socrates finally points out that not only would the lover want the beloved to lose his parents, siblings, friends, and fortune, but he would also want him to remain unwed, childless and without a household of his own. In considering the possessions of the boy, it is interesting that Socrates focuses to such an extent on the household and the family. On the one hand, this entails a more sophisticated understanding of possessions, insofar as it correctly identifies human relationships as the most important possessions; however, it also makes us wonder about how the Erotic relationship might compare to these. In the Palinode, Socrates points out that the reason the boy becomes attracted to the lover is that he sees in the lover a devotion that surpasses that of any of his friends or relatives (255b). The first speech assumes that the "most friendly, best disposed, and most divine possessions” are one’s family and friends (239e-240a). The Palinode, on the other hand, raises the 88 �possibility that perhaps pulling the boy away from the family is not such a bad thing; that is, if the philosophic way of life is as good as Socrates' account suggests. Socrates’ own life suggests that this discussion of the beloved’s possessions does not reflect his own priorities; he was notoriously poor, uninterested in his own family, and despised for taking boys away from theirs.^ Furthermore, Socrates considers another factor regarding the benefits and harms of the lover. His treatment of the matter suggests that pederasty is not only a problem for the beloved, but perhaps also a political problem for the city. In Socrates’ account, the lover tears boys away from their families, prevents them from being useful to the city (namely discourages them from military virtue], and prevents them from starting families of their own. While this might happen to some extent with lovers themselves, there is evidence that, in practice, pederasty was able to coexist with the city’s political life, and perhaps even encourage civic and military virtue.® On the other hand, Socrates’ own relationship with boys seems representative of the political complications indicated in this passage. Philosophy, if anything, seems to draw men away from the concerns of the city. Philosophers were notorious for avoiding the important business of the city and were considered indolent. Alcibiades left Socrates because he was afraid of spending his life in idleness.^ We have to wonder if a philosophical relationship would not be more likely to produce the soft body which is scorned in this speech, or produce the kind of man who is useless in times of political need. Considered this way, perhaps this first speech reveals a side of philosophical Eros not considered in the Palinode; namely, that it may be in tension with the needs of the city.® Socrates continues to criticize pederasty on the grounds that "one of the same age delights another,” arguing that the difference in age will make for an unpleasant friendship (240c]. It is clear that older men and boys do not tend to become friends, and without some ulterior motivation, most people are not interested in spending time with those well outside their age range. We must wonder how lovers and beloveds tend to spend their time. What activities do they enjoy together? To what degree can. they sympathize with one another, or share common concerns? We must think that friendships among those of the same age can allow for a satisfaction that is difficult for those very different in age. Socrates, however, somewhat undermines this notion by explaining the reason behind the age difference. It is not age in itself, he points out, but rather the dissimilarity that goes along with age that is the problem for friendship. It is merely that equal time lived leads to "equal pleasures through similarity" (240c]. This does not rule out the possibility, however, of equal pleasures through similarity without equal time. It 89 �seems instead merely to explain why equal pleasures tend to occur with equal time. In the Palinode, for instance, Socrates indicates that the boy and the lover are able to enjoy philosophy together. In fact, Socrates’ argument might even provide an explanation for why an older man would need to look for young boys for friendship. If similarity is necessary for friendship (namely, similar desires for similar pleasures), a man who has uncommon desires might be lonely among men his own age. Such a man might have to find young men whom he can educate in such a way that they will share his preferences. This might characterize to some extent the situation in which a man like Socrates has found himself. Given that philosophy (as a way of life) was held in contempt by most and regarded with indifference by the rest, Socrates would have to look to the young to find companions in his quest for wisdom. Older men would have been too set in their ways to turn to philosophy. While this may be an appealing prospect to a philosopher, it is not clear that it is entirely satisfactory for an erotic lover. Pederasty seems to have an unavoidable asymmetry; namely, with regards to the pleasure derived from such a relationship. While the lover enjoys beholding his beloved and derives sexual gratification from him, it is unclear what satisfaction the beloved derives from his lover. We have seen evidence that the beloved was understood to benefit in more conventional ways by the lover. If this is the case, however, there seems to be an enormous gulf between their respective enjoyment. It then begs the question, whether the lover would be entirely satisfied with such a relationship; it is likely that the lover would prefer his beloved to return a love with the same depth of feeling. It is likely that the lover would want a beloved who derives satisfaction in the same way as he himself does. In his comparison of an erotic relationship and friendship, Socrates observes that even friendship among equals has its satiety. In this notion we see the excessive character of Eros; the lover is unable or unwilling to rest from his attentions to the beloved. This is an important consideration with the Palinode in mind; the Palinode includes satiety in its vision of the divine. Socrates' portrays the Gods moving in a continuing circle in the heavens, periodically feasting on the sight of the true beings, only to return home to rest and feed their horses (247c-e). This divine way of life (if it can be called life) for the Gods has a very different character than the life sought by an erotic type who dreams of a perfect motionless satisfaction. In contrast to Eros, the satiety of friendship is not so much a problem. As seen in the Palinode, one takes nourishment from friendly intercourse and then rests. Erotic love, however, is disappointed in gratification insofar as it destroys the hopes for a more complete contentment. 90 �After arguing for the inferiority of pederasty to friendship between equals, Socrates proceeds to criticize it on the grounds that "the lover in relation to the boy" is most of all characterized by compulsion, which "is said ... to be grievous to everyone" (240c-d). The lover, Socrates tells us, "is driven by necessity and frenzy" in his attentions to the boy. It is interesting to note that this argument seems to apply exclusively to the lover, who is presented as a slave to his passion, whereas compulsion is not mentioned at all with respect to the boy. While there has been evidence that the lover’s behavior is unpleasant to others, we might wonder whether being enslaved to his love might not be most grievous to himself. This consideration brings into light an aspect of this speech that has been somewhat tacit until this point: Socrates’ speech is as much directed toward the lover as it is to the boy. Socrates then asks, "But as for the beloved, by giving what exhortation or what pleasures can the frenzy cause him, associating with the lover for the same time, not to reach the utmost point of unpleasantness?" (240d). While we might imagine the attentions of the lover could be pleasant, assuming he is able to serve his beloved well, Socrates introduces a curious twist when he asks what "exhortation" might make the time pleasant for the beloved. After all, an exhortation is not the first thing that comes to mind when one imagines pleasant pastimes. By introducing this unexpected suggestion, Socrates perhaps means for us to ask whether it is simply the pleasure or the benefits of having a dedicated servant that might appeal to the beloved. We recall, for instance, that it was Socrates’ speeches that drew Alcibiades to Socrates. Alcibiades seemed to see something in Socrates that was both beautiful and good, and sensed he could benefit in some important way by associating with Socrates. This question presents something of a challenge to the lovers who are listening to Socrates’ speech. It suggest that perhaps exhortations are the way to the a boy’s heart.^ Socrates’ account of the unpleasantness of the lover reaches its climax with a subtle but compelling reference to the sex act: "he [the beloved] sees an older face, and not in the bloom of youth, with the other things that follow along with this, which are not delightful to even hear in speech, not to mention the ever-pressing necessity to manage them even in deed" (240d-e]. This is the first time the sexual act is brought to our attention, and it is addressed as from the perspective of the boy. This is a very important admission in the speech insofar as it reveals that Socrates’ speech cannot have the same goal as Lysias’s [as was initially claimed). Lysias’s speech was meant to convince the boy to gratify a nonlover; it never brings the boy’s attention to the unpleasant nature of sex. By addressing the unpleasant aspects of sex itself, Socrates extends his argument past the bounds of Lysias’s parameters: perhaps the boy should 91 �not gratify any man at all. This short passage also reinforces the problem of asymmetry. According to Socrates, friendship consists of equality of pleasures, and we have begun to wonder how satisfied either party (especially the lover, who likely has more invested in the relationship than the boy] could be with such vast differences in their enjoyments. The sex act seems to be the extreme example of this: it is in gratification that the lover is most pleased, and yet for the beloved it is unpleasant. Not only would bringing this up remind the beloved how undesirable erotic love is, but we have to imagine that it would also remind the lover how one-sided his sexual enjoyment is. Following this brief and veiled reminder of the sex act, Socrates brings our attention to the jealousy of the lover. While this jealousy is certainly unpleasant to the beloved, it also speaks to the insecurity of the lover. If the only tie unifying the boy with the lover is the benefit he stands to gain, it seems unlikely that he would remain loyal. Therefore, what assurance does such a lover ever have of his beloved’s faithfulness? This concern seems to be as much a problem for the lover as for the beloved. We also have to wonder, however, how this looks to the beloved. Socrates depicts the lover as keeping the boy "under guard with guards that spy out evil all the time” (240e]. This suggests that the lover will see evil when there is none, or at the very least: what the lover may recognize as evil will not appear as such to the beloved. However, it might also be that the beloved sees the lover as protecting him in some way. Furthermore, it may perhaps be by some such manipulation that the lover is able to "manage" his beloved. Socrates’ final observation on the matter of asymmetry is that the beloved is forced to account for the lover’s "untimely and excessive praises” in addition to "reproaches that are not bearable when the lover is sober, but when he has gotten into strong drink, shameful in addition” (240e]. As was indicated earlier in the speech, Socrates suggests that lovers tend to be bad flatterers. Rather than using praise effectively, they are often carried away, and thus embarrass the object of their love. In the "unbearable” reproaches the lover seems to suffer a certain internal tension. It is telling that Socrates only associates reproaches with the lover’s drunken state. Perhaps when the lover is feeling uncommonly honestio he is more inclined to complain than to praise. This would indicate dissatisfaction in the lover additionally; perhaps the boy is unable to satisfy him in some way. The remainder of the speech is an account of the problems that arise after the affair has ended. Like Lysias, Socrates highlights the inability and unwillingness of the lover to carry out all his promises. Socrates claims at this point that it was through "many promises with many oaths and bonds" that the lover "barely effectuated” the beloved’s toleration 92 �throughout their unpleasant time together (240e-241a). This admission casts the entire relationship in a very ugly light. It seems that it was an altogether mercenary arrangement — prostitution, even. It is worth noting, however, that the kinds of promises themselves are unstated. It is not clear, for instance, what value these promises had for the beloved. The promises themselves might have been appealing on the grounds that they were evidence of the lover's devotion. Understood this way, perhaps the breach of these promises is itself a danger to the beloved because it reveals the ‘devotion’ of the lover for what it really was: a passing fancy. Socrates concludes his account with the following passage: one should never gratify the lover who is of necessity mindless, but much rather the nonlover who has intelligence; if not, one must of necessity give oneself up to someone untrustworthy, disagreeable, jealous, unpleasant, and harmful as regards property, harmful as regards the body's condition, and by far the most harmful as regards the soul’s education. (241b-c] Socrates’ conclusion, however, is clearly overstated. While he has made a strong case for not gratifying the lover, it does not by any means follow that he should gratify the nonlover. It is somewhat comic that Socrates presents these alternatives as a "necessity.” This claim brings our attention once again to the question of the boy’s motivation. While the whole business of gratification seems at this point an entirely fruitless enterprise, Socrates’ continues as if it were obvious that the boy is going to have to gratify someone. We have to consider in addition that whatever the lover provides, there is no reason to expect the nonlover to do better. Assuming there was some reason the nonlover wanted gratification (a strange suggestion, considering he is not a lover) he would not be inclined to give much to get it. Even if he were, he would not be willing to make promises he was not in a position to keep; according to Socrates, however, such promises are necessary to get the beloved to put up with you. Finally, while the lover would perhaps not be interested in making the boy as good as possible (if this makes him inaccessible as a sex partner), the nonlover would not take any interest in the boy’s education; what reason would he have to? Socrates' final comment is that "the friendship of a lover does not come into being with goodwill, but in the manner of food, for the sake of repletion, as wolves cherish lambs, so do lovers love boys" (241c-d). While this final grim characterization of Eros is in stark contrast with the divine picture we get in the Palinode, it is worth pointing out that in neither speech is goodwill an essential part of Socrates’ presentation of Eros. In both speeches the lover is said to serve the beloved; in this 93 �speech it is suggested he does not do so very well, while in the Palinode he is thereby able to win the love of the boy. In both speeches, however, Eros does not direct the lover principally toward the benefit of the beloved. In this speech, love seems to aim primarily at gaining physical gratification from the beloved, whereas in the Palinode, it aims at the form of beauty itself and the philosophic way of life. The key difference, it seems, is that the latter are ends that are able to be shared by the two parties, whereas in the former, one party simply serves to nourish the other.ii Phaedrus is keenly aware of the inadequacy of Socrates' conclusion, saying to Socrates, "But 1 supposed it was in the middle, and would say equal things about the nonlover, how one ought rather to gratify him, telling in turn what good things he has” (241d). To this Socrates responds, "In one phrase, I say that whatever things we reviled in the one, the good things opposite to these belong to the other. And what need for a long speech? For what has been said about both is sufficient” (241e). This response is curious and important for a couple of reasons. Firstly, Socrates had earlier claimed when formulating the definition of love that "what is stated is altogether clearer than what is unstated” (238b]. In fact, when he finally stated the definition of love, it turned out to be very different than what we would have assumed given what had been laid out. Given this earlier admission, it is likely that Socrates means for us to question his claim that "what has been said about both is sufficient.” Secondly, it is not at all obvious how to formulate the "opposite” of what has been said about the lover. For instance, is the nonlover going to be beautiful and in the bloom of his youth, and a pleasure to look upon? Will the act of sex be any less unspeakable when it is with him? Perhaps more importantly, it is not clear how to invert Socrates' definition of the lover, namely because it has two parts: the excessive desire for the pleasure of beauty as well as the excessive desire for the beauty of bodies. If we get rid of just one of these, will he still be a lover, or would we have to reverse both? It is clear that we cannot get rid of both; if this were the case, the nonlover would have no interest in the youth. If the nonlover were only interested in the beauty of bodies, however (and if this were essentially a sexual desire], then Socrates would be in a very difficult position; his speech against gratifying the lover would put the boy off of sex all together! The only alternative that seems possible, is that Socrates' nonlover is not directed toward sex at all, but is more concerned with beauty itself. This alternative, however, is not really altogether an alternative to love; in fact, Socrates' definition of love suggested that the desire for beauty itself is what is essential to love, and that the physical component 94 �merely strengthened this. Given this consideration, Socrates’ "nonlover" might really be the "lover” in the most complete sense of the word, insofar as he directs himself toward the true end of Eros. In this light, we can look at the Palinode as a completion of the first speech rather than simply a correction of it: to gratify the nonlover in the first speech, is to gratify the lover in the second. In fact, if we look at the Palinode, we see it addresses many of the problems presented here. The Palinode offers the possibility of a love that can be reciprocated between the lover and beloved; the beloved is led to experience the same (if somewhat less intense) erotic encounter with beauty in the lover. Rather than seeking gratification from one another, the two live a life directed away from themselves (aiming toward true beauty) which they can share and presumably enjoy together. It is important to note that in this, Socrates has altered Eros in an important way. He uses the power of the erotic experience to build a kind of friendship. It is likely that Eros does not naturally lead to such a friendship, but rather leads to the problematic sexual relationship depicted by Socrates’ first speech and Lysias’s speech. Socrates’ solution requires a transformation of Eros, and an important aspect of this transformation seems to be the suppression of sexual activity. It is interesting to note that Lysias’s speech also offers a solution to the problems identified in both his own speech and in Socrates’ first speech. Lysias’s solution is almost a mirror image of Socrates’. That is, rather than suppressing the sexual side of the erotic relationship and creating a friendship out of the shared pursuit of the beautiful, Lysias suppresses the higher concerns of the Erotic drives and seeks to create a subdued sexual partnership. Lysias’s solution would no doubt appeal to those lovers who have suffered from some of the uglier consequences of Eros. Socrates’ Palinode, on the other hand, uses poetry to awaken the Erotic man’s concern for the "higher" side of the beautiful. His two speeches might also appeal to a frustrated lover. He asks the lover to remember that it is not just the body of the beloved that is calling to him, but something beyond it. It is this call, according to Socrates, that leads men to the life of philosophy. Endnotes 1. I ignore here two other possibilities: a healthy lover concerned with beautiful bodies, and a sick lover concerned with the beautiful as such. The former might describe the "nonlover" of Lysias's speech, who is able to moderately maintain a [presumably) sexual relationship with a boy. The latter might be described as an immoderate concern for the beautiful. For evidence that such a "high" concern might be immoderate, see 230a, in which Socrates claims to not have concluded yet whether he is "multiply twisted" like the monster Typhon, or is of a gentle and divine nature. 95 �2. See Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, trans. Joe Sachs (Newburyport: Focus, 2002), 1158b30-1159al5. 3. Even here we must be careful — in the Palinode the beloved's love in return is only made possible by the extreme devotion of the lover. We have to wonder if a lover lacking the means to provide for the needs and wants of the beloved would be in a position to demonstrate such a devotion. 4. Plato, Symposium, trans. Seth Benardete [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001), 218c-d, 219b-d. 5. Diogenes Laertius, The Life of Socrates; See also: Aristophanes, Clouds. 6. Plato, Symposium, 178c-179b, 182b-e. 7. Plato, Symposium, 178c-179b, 216a. 8. Gorgias, 284c-e. 9. Plato, Symposium, 178c-179b, 215d-216a; see also Plato, Lysis, trans. David Bolotin [Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1979), 205e-206d. 10. Plato, Symposium, 178c-179b, 218b-219d: Alcibiades is willing to tell his shameful attempt at Socrates to a party of fellow Athenians when drunk. 11. See Plato, Symposium, 178c-179b, 189c-193e: Aristophanes offers an interpretation of Eros which would allow for a goodwill which is absent here, in that the beloved is regarded as a part of tbe lover. Even in this case, however, we might ask whether the lover’s concern might not be for the well-being of the beloved himself, but is rather for the healing of his [or their) inherited wound. Primary Text Plato. Phaedrus. Translated by James H. Nichols Jr. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1998. 96 �The Unmentioned Standing Reserve Caitlin McShea Martin Heidegger expresses an alternative view of the human relationship to technology in his piece The Question Concerning Technology. In his essay Heidegger outlines how humanity’s perception of the world is characterized by the Enframing power behind technology. He explains that the modern understanding of technology (that is instrumentality) has lead to a profound preference for scientific knowledge of the world, and consequently, nature no longer reveals itself to humanity in an artistic way, but rather as a standing reserve, meant to be called upon for use. This essay will apply a feminist perspective to Heidegger’s standing reserve and Enframing power. Specifically, this essay will discuss how scientific domination, as a product of instrumental technology, paved the way for Capitalistic and Patriarchal domination of women and nature. In doing so, the exploitation of both nature and women could conceivably be explained by the presence of scientific domination, capitalism, and patriarchy as Enframing powers motivating men towards the preservation of said standing reserves. In The Question Concerning Technology, Heidegger explores the ways in which the conventional definition of technology has changed in the face of modernity. What we refer to as technology is more accurately defined as instrumentality, and furthermore this modern alteration of technology’s true definition has led to a gross misrepresentation of the world. Additionally, the modern interpretation of technology’s essence is responsible for the warped and strained nature of humanity’s relationship with technology. In his essay, Heidegger focuses on the origin of technology, outlines the process by which modern technology is understood today, and expresses a hope that humanity might revert back to a truer form of technology that would lead to a truer understanding of the world, and a healthier, "free relationship” with technology. To start, Heidegger states "the essence of technology is by no means anything technological" (4), and begins a historical account of the origins of the definition of technology. He asserts that our idea of instrumentality stems from an ancient philosophical question of causality, and so continues to explore the inherent problems of causal thought with the use of a silver chalice as his example. Here, he also begins to provide etymological evidence for his arguments as he will continue to do throughout this rest of this essay. He notes that though the four causes are frequently ascribed to Aristotle, the Greek word causa that Aristotle used more accurately means "that which brings it about that something falls out as a result in such and such a way . . . that to 97 �which something is indebted” (7), or that causa implies a responsibility, and did not mean then what we attribute cause to mean today. Therefore, our modern interpretations of cause, which have justified our methods of instrumentality, were made in error. That aside, Heidegger explains that the chalice is made from silver, by a silversmith, and created with the intent to be used. The chalice is a chalice and only a chalice, it is not a wine glass or a bowl, and it exhibits the essence of a chalice, i.e., its "chaliceness.” In this way, Heidegger makes the point that technology is founded on "revealing” because the silversmith works the silver in order to reveal the essence of the chalice. Here is where the distinction between cause and responsibility is made. Heidegger does not want to attribute the silver to the material cause or the silversmith to the efficient cause. Instead he demonstrates the ways in which the chalice is indebted to both the silver and the silversmith. The silver is responsible for the composition of the chalice, while the silversmith is responsible for the shape of the chalice. The silversmith fired, molded, and formed the chalice in order to reveal its true essence. The idea is that the chalice always existed within the silver, but the silversmith is responsible for bringing the chalice into existence by revealing it and allowing its presence. Heidegger mentions that our word "technology” stems from the Greek word technikon, or that "which belongs to techne . . . [which] mean[s] to be entirely at home in something, to understand and be expert in it. . . Such knowing provides an opening up . . . [i.e.,] a revealing” (13). So, our "technology” can be traced back to an early idea of technique, or expertise. When applied to the chalice example, Heidegger would say that the silversmith’s technique, his proficiency with silver, revealed the chalice within the silver. The technique employed is responsible for the finished Chalice. It is fitting then that techne was used in reference to both manufactured goods and art. That is, cobblers and painters both possessed a certain specific knowledge of their craft that, when used, was responsible for the revealing of a shoe or a portrait, respectively. More importantly, Heidegger makes clear the fact that the term "technology,” at least historically, referred to the revealing of both manufactured and artistic truths. Heidegger elaborates on this notion in his discussion of poeisis, where he distinguishes between physis, the bringing forth of things from themselves, and poeisis, the bringing forth of things from something else. To clarify, weavers bring forth tapestries and bards bring forth song through poeisis while a tree is brought forth from itself, as occurs in nature. And since "every bringing-forth is grounded in revealing" (12), and Heidegger regards revealing as the most important method by which a concealed truth "comes into unconcealment" (11), this focus on poeisis 98 �is central in Heidegger’s exploration into the relationship between humanity and technology. In his discussion of poeisis, Heidegger says that technology is not based in instrumentality, and that technology’s essence is not found in the production and manipulation of supplies, but rather it is found in revealing. However, the mode of revealing in modern day technology is no longer poeisis. Heidegger explains that modern technology is characterized by a challenging mode of revealing. That is, humanity’s modern orientation to the world does not rest in an artistic viewpoint but in a challenging one. It is fitting that Heidegger uses the word ‘challenging’ to describe the revealing process for modern technology, since in Heidegger’s eyes, humanity no longer seeks to reveal truths in nature; rather, humanity seeks to challenge the limits of nature. In his Rhine River example, Heidegger shows the major difference between a poetic revealing and a challenging revealing. Under poeisis, Holderlin, a German poet, details the landscape of the river in a poetic piece, revealing the calming and pacifying qualities of the river in which he eventually drowned. However, a challenging revealing of that same iconic river in Germany reduces that inspirational location to a water­ power resource when a hydroelectric dam is put into place. With this example, Heidegger introduces his idea of Bestand or the standing reserve. He explains that a modern instrumentalist orientation toward the world allows humanity to reduce everything to a standing reserve, i.e., nothing in the world is seen beyond its functional context. Trees are not trees but paper sources, and an airplane is not an airplane but a transportation device. It is as though the world reveals itself to humanity as material stock at the ready to be used and manipulated by humans for human convenience. Furthermore, Heidegger asserts that the standing reserve exists as a result of an Enframing power that is responsible for orienting humanity towards this strange reductionist relationship with nature. For whatever reason, humanity is attracted to order. Therefore, humanity has a tendency to try to compartmentalize everything in nature, collapsing the essences of nature completely, so as to store it in neat mental cubbies. The standing reserve allows humanity to order things based on their potential purpose, so trees could be stored in a "paper" box as well as a "lumber” box, a "shade" box or a "sap" box, but under this modern instrumental view of technology and nature, trees are no longer stored in tree boxes. Heidegger proposes that modern scientific inquiry might be at fault for this mindset. Contrary to popular belief, Heidegger proposes that scientific innovation and research is a product of technology, and not the other way around. In other words, the construction of a scientific framework, including physical laws, chemistry 99 �equations, and a general geometric perspective of the world are all products of technology, or as Heidegger would propose, those laws and equations act as larger boxes in which to store nature. So when Heidegger mentions that "the essence of technology is by no means technological" (4], he means to say that the truth of technology is lost in the mechanics of new machinery and the complexities of mathematical equations, and that the true essence of technology rests in the relationship between man and technology. The essence of technology in Heidegger’s eyes is the Enframing power that orients humanity towards the world, and during the time in which Heidegger wrote The Question Concerning Technology, he was obviously disappointed in humanity's current orientation towards scientific inquiry as the primary method for the acquisition of knowledge. But where does this thirst for precise, discrete, quantitative and categorized knowledge come from? What is behind this ever-present Enframing power? Heidegger himself doesn't know. In an effort to assess the question, Heidegger studies the main ideas behind philosophy in order to fully understand where the thirst for knowledge in general came from. He concludes that the things most often regarded as factual are those things that have withstood the test of time; i.e., things that "endure” (30). Modern causality, then, is not true because the causality that scientists apply to nature is not the same idea of responsibility as proposed by the Greeks. Nor can it be explained with what have been most commonly known as Aristotle’s four causes. Instead, modern physics applies new mathematical and scientific patterns to natural processes to express a scientific causality in nature. However, Heidegger argues, as with the creation of science from technology, modern physics has created those mathematical patterns in order to explain natural phenomena in a causal manner. Again, it becomes obvious that humanity cannot escape the convenience of a scientific orientation towards the world, and is therefore trapped. If man is unaware of his reductionist tendencies and continues to blindly box nature for later use as a standing reserve, how will man ever succeed in forming the "free relationship” with technology that Heidegger advocates? After having explained his alternative understanding of technology, Heidegger proposes that humanity revert back to its artistic view of the world, and allow poeisis to reveal the truth of technology instead of some unnamed Enframing power that directs humanity towards the creation and preservation of a standing reserve. When we think of technology as an instrument, as a means to an end, we miss the true essence of technology. Instead of focusing on the improvement of instrumentality, Heidegger expresses his hopes that humanity will seek the true essence 100 �of technology and understand that the revealing of nature is not causal, but "poetic.” If humanity successfully strays from a causal and instrumental revealing of nature, then perhaps humanity would recognize its own existence within nature, as a part of nature, and not as a species meant to use nature’s raw materials at will. Heidegger admits that a break from the current Enframing power would be difficult, if at all possible, but hopes that a return to an artistic orientation to the world will result in a healthy technological relationship. Heidegger writes. Because the essence of technology is nothing technological, essential reflection upon technology and decisive confrontation with it must happen in a realm that is, on the one hand, akin to the essence of technology, and on the other, fundamentally different from it. Such a realm is art. (35) Though Heidegger sees the development of modern science as a product of technology, to many others, technology seems to facilitate scientific practice. Heidegger writes his Question Concerning Technology in a time after Francis Bacon proposed a popular method for acquiring scientific knowledge and an advanced understanding of nature. In his Novum Organum, Bacon explains that times have, indeed, changed and men cannot learn about nature now in the same ways they had in the past. At first, man coexisted with nature, and being unaware of nature’s ways, man only learned about nature by participating as a function of nature, and not interfering with its processes. Man was to learn by observing, because "nature, to be commanded, must be obeyed” (50). However, Bacon makes clear the fact that this observant mode of inquiry never resulted in new information; therefore, in order to learn more about nature, and to truly understand nature, a more aggressive, probing method of inquiry will reveal the secrets that our observations could not. "The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding” (50), therefore a far less subtle approach to nature is key to the pursuit of knowledge. For this reason. Bacon advocates scientific practices, such as systematic experimentation, to aid in the mastering of nature’s secrets. So in a Heideggerian sense. Bacon thought that scientific domination was the most practical technique to reveal nature’s true essence, and to unveil nature’s secrets since "science is but an image of truth” (45). Ever since this period in history, conventional thought has been that nature can be understood only by reduction, that is, only by reducing her to numbers does she become clear. With time scientific inquiry became more accessible to the public through education and the creation of sophisticated technological innovations. So new technology exists in order to ease researchers’ 101 �inquiries of nature, and allows for more mathematical, precise, and accurate measurements and observations. But remember that science itself is a product of technology. These new instruments are around only to help scientists do exactly what Heidegger warns them against; i.e., to put nature into boxes. By putting things into boxes via mathematical observation and Baconian scientific reduction, modern science has allowed humanity to more efficiently rely on the standing reserve of nature. This kind of efficiency has lead to extreme exploitation of natural resources. Currently the world faces an oil crisis, entire forests face the risk of clear-cutting, and animals are worked to exhaustion simply because humanity has become accustomed to viewing nature in a very specific way. What is nature if not a stock pile of potential fuel, paper, meat and leather? An instrumental and technological orientation to the world, facilitated by modern science, has lead to the complete and total domination of nature, as if domination is the only method by which humanity could exist within nature. Science now determines nature as an object, which is underwritten by human subjectivity, and hence human beings feel free to dominate and use nature in technology. Heidegger makes evident in his book the direct dangers to nature associated with the standing reserve. A Heideggerian application of technology to environmental destruction is an obvious one since he speaks explicitly of dammed rivers and the lumber and paper industries throughout his essay. A less obvious, though equally poignant and provocative application of Heidegger's The Question Concerning Technology would be to the domination of women via that standing reserve. Perhaps women are controlled and exploited by men for the very reason that nature is. Specifically, women are not viewed in an artistic and poetic sense, but rather as providers of a resource that can be stockpiled and called upon by men when needed. It seems to me that in addition to our instrumental orientation to the world which Enframes nature into reserves, so too do oppressive institutions like patriarchy and capitalism orient us towards the creation and preservation of standing reserves. Perhaps a discussion of the ways in which modern science has facilitated the capitalistic process would clarify the relationship between the exploitation of nature and women. Western science, since its inception, and arguably still is today, a masculine discipline. The studies of nature, physics, medicine, mathematics, etc., were all reserved for men, and since those practices have led to an irreparable destruction of the earth, one might be able to recognize a masculine underpinning to the ecological crisis. During the Scientific Revolution of the Modern Era, a mechanical and reductionist paradigm emerged as the primary way of revealing nature’s secrets. And 102 �while this new methodology for revealing nature's secrets seemed to be a liberating force for all of humanity, the aggressive and invasive process that has now become convention is merely a projection of the patriarchal ideals entailing the subjugation of both nature and women. Consider the formerly natural event of childbirth. Once belonging only to the mother and her child, childbearing has been absorbed into the realm of medicine and machinery. Women were valued for their reproductive gifts and no connection was stronger than the connection between a mother and her child. What was once artistic and poetic, that is, the organic unity of the mother and baby, is now revealed through the technologic instrumentality of medical professionals. Women's wombs have been reduced to containers. A woman's direct bond with the fetus is replaced by knowledge mediated by men and machine. Now the gift of human life is a product of medical practice and not the product of a natural feminine process. The "medicalization” of childbirth, due to scientific innovation and an instrumental viewpoint, has reduced the female body to a baby-holder. The female body is no longer celebrated as a creator of life because the child is no longer seen as produced by natural miracle within the woman, but rather removed from the container through medical expertise, and in this way the physician rather than the mother could be seen as having produced the baby. Therefore, masculine medical professionals with sophisticated machinery on their side as justification, have taken childbirth, a singularly female process, away from women. However, childbirth will never be completely taken from women, since women are biologically set up for conception, gestation, birth, and breast-feeding. This means that even though doctors remove babies from wombs and are the praised producers of babies, doctors do not have the misfortune of being placed in a standing reserve for the production of babies in the way women are. In order for capitalism to thrive, raw materials must be converted into commodities by laborers and sold for a profit. This means that human laborers convert natural raw materials such as trees into the production of commodities such as paper to be sold for profit, and therefore nature suffers at the hands of a capitalist economy. However, how would capitalism continue without the steady influx of able-bodied laborers? In capitalist terms, the commodities must be made from raw materials and sold for a profit. By way of this process, capitalism has only led to the commodification of childbirth, since women (the laborers] convert sperm, eggs, and nutrients (the raw materials] into a zygote that will eventually develop into a child, who will grow up to work in the capitalist economy and sell his or her skills for a profit (a salary]. Women invest their bodies and their energy to create a child, and then invest several years of their life to raise it. When more babies are produced, 103 �more laborers will be available in the following generations to continue commodity production; thus, more natural resources will be exhausted so that more profits may be made. Note that the original laborer (the mother) producing commodities (the children) does not at any point receive a profit. So while wage laborers in a capitalistic system enjoy a paycheck, and while the general public enjoys the benefits of commodity consumption, women remain unrewarded for their work, and therefore, lack the sufficient funds for commodity consumption. Women’s bodies are drained from childbearing, and nature’s resources are drained by commodity production in this cruel cycle. The exploitation of female reproductive power has led to an excess of births, to overpopulation, just as the exploitation of resources has led to their destruction in an excess of production. To sum up, the main victims of a capitalist system are women and nature. Women’s bodies as well as the body of nature have been reduced to Heideggerian standing reserves. Their parts have been separated from the whole and are seen only in the context of functionality. Women are not valued as complex and intelligent beings fully capable of coexisting in a man’s world; women are not valued at all. Women are attractive but vacant shells, prized only for their possession of eggs, a uterus, mammary glands, and any other biological resource directly utilized in child production. Capitalism as an Enframing power has allowed man to view both women and nature as stockpiled raw materials on supply for the continuous production of goods and stimulation of profit. But technology and capitalism are not the only motivating forces for the enduring exploitation of women and nature; patriarchal tradition, fueled by science, also Enframes women and nature into standing reserves. Once the Darwinian conception of Evolution was accepted as an explanation for the origin of life. Social Darwinism swept the Western hemisphere. Suddenly social theorists and scientific researchers alike were interested in the evolutionary relationships between various groups of people. The conclusions gathered from social evolutionary studies widened the boundaries between the sexes, as "scientific evidence” suggested a biological superiority of men over women. It was thought that woman’s place was in the home, that the male brain was larger than that of a woman, and so men justified a domination of human society. Essentially, an incorrect application of evolutionary principles was used to legitimize a social hierarchy, resulting in an invalid attribution of various biological misfortunes to women. Furthermore, social theorists, who concluded that women are less evolved than men, (without having verifiable evidence to support their results) explained that the only way for women to overcome their biological misfortune would be to literally enslave themselves to a masculine, and more highly evolved, lover. 104 �Conventional thought at this time was as follows: Women are less biologically suited to survive in the wilderness like men are; therefore, they should remain within the confines of a safe domesticity. Similarly, women (who are unable to understand the complexities of business and politics) should not seek employment beyond the house walls. Nor should they seek education to understand those complicated subjects (because the female brain is far smaller than the man's brain, and is therefore incapable of retaining such information). As a result, it was further maintained that it was in a woman’s best interest to use her looks to attract potential male mates. Also, she ought to use her sexuality to compete against other women for said mate. And because, physiologically, the increased pelvic inclination is a clear indicator of the fact that women are more closely related to apes than men, women should allow themselves to be dominated by men just as animals are, especially considering their [inevitably] declining beauty. This step-bystep guide to survival for women is an artifact of scientific studies encouraged by patriarchy’s dependency on men as dominant social figures. It is additionally a clear example of Darwin’s fear for social applications of his theory of Natural Selection. And while some of the above statements may be extreme examples of antiquated thought, the fact still remains that women were socially understood to be subordinate and reliant on men. It can be said, then, that patriarchy is a result of humanity’s unfortunate preoccupation with order. As Heidegger notes in his essay, humanity is compelled to put everything into boxes. In this instance patriarchal values allowed men to put women into boxes. Pretty, passive and pleasing women were prized because evolution had demonstrated that pretty, passive and pleasing women were more suited to survive. In addition, since this information was gathered under "scientific” circumstances, it was considered reliable. Thus, Social Darwinism confirmed patriarchal values, and such patriarchal values placed women into a standing reserve. It was deemed a biological predisposition that men were traditionally superior hunters. Thus, men, being "evolutionarily favored,” they did not have to rely on women for survival. Furthermore, it was maintained that because women were blessed with beauty and more suited to the delicacies of domesticity, they were incapable of hunting. Since women could not hunt for themselves and had to secure a mate, they had to rely on men for survival. Based on these premises alone, women were reduced to mere functions and only called upon by men when needed for mating. The most attractive or most pleasing women were wed, and would reproduce with the men they married. Through marriage, patriarchal values of domesticity are only reinforced further because with age a woman could lose her looks and possibly her 105 �reproductive abilities, thereby losing her function in society. Therefore, in order to keep her marriage afloat and avoid being outcompeted by a younger, more attractive, and more sexually capable woman, these older women placed themselves into a standing reserve for the purpose to be called upon by their husbands for warm meals and general care. It becomes clear now that through patriarchy, women have been reduced to sexual mates and have reduced themselves to caretakers. Again, these female standing reserves are the products of scientific inquiry, since science has allowed humanity to contextualize women in biological terms, thus creating a justification for the subordination and reduction of women. Heidegger wrote The Question Concerning Technology with the hope that his readers might become aware of their own relationship with technology, and in so doing would reorient themselves to the world, enjoying a free relationship with technology. He explains that for the most part, humanity’s understanding of technology more closely resembles an understanding of instrumentality. Heidegger explains that an instrumental orientation towards technology is a dangerous one because it very easily leads to the creation of standing reserves. When technology is understood only as a means to an end, humanity loses sight of its true relationship with technology and is instead motivated by an instrumental Enframing power to reduce everything to a standing reserve. Once the standing reserve is in place, everything can only be seen for its functionality: trees for paper, rivers for water-power, women for reproduction and caretaking. The Enframing power blinds humanity, tunneling human vision towards instrumental conversions of raw materials into manufactured things; and, even though he hopes that his text will help readers regain a poetic orientation towards the world and create a free relationship with technology, Heidegger does not himself know that such a reorientation is possible. Heidegger writes: It is precisely in Enframing, which threatens to sweep man away into ordering as the supposed single way of revealing, and so thrusts man into the danger of the surrender of his free essence — it is precisely in this extreme danger that the innermost indestructible belongingness of man within granting may come to light, provided that we, for our part, begin to pay heed to the coming to presence of technology. (32) Even if we are made aware of the Enframing power and standing reserves, Heidegger fears that an instrumental relationship with technology might be permanent. However, he continues to encourage his readers to push past the convenience of an instrumental ordering and 106 �remain aware of other, healthier, and freer orientations towards technology: "Everything, then, depends upon this: that we ponder this arising, and that, recollecting, we watch over it... so long as we represent technology as an instrument we remain held fast in the will to master it” (32). With a Heideggerian understanding of the patriarchal and capitalistic orientation toward women and nature, one might wonder whether there is hope for an elimination of women and nature as standing reserves. Do women and nature have a chance to avoid further domination and exploitation when these oppressive institutions are nearly impossible to evade? I certainly cannot answer that question. Instead 1 can only suggest that men have for centuries dominated women and nature because an Enframing power has motivated them to unwittingly do so. If humanity finally comes to understand that technology cannot be used as an instrument to get from point A to point B, then maybe the free relationship with technology that Heidegger suggests may not be so far out of reach. If humanity were to question scientific domination as the method by which to understand nature, then perhaps humanity would return to a "poetic” interpretation of technology. When numbers and laws no longer work to compartmentalize every component of nature, we might once again see nature for what it truly is. Furthermore, an artistic revealing of nature would mean an end to Heideggerian standing reserves. The standing reserves constructed under oppressive Enframing institutions would completely dissolve if such a free relationship with technology were reached. Therefore, with a free relationship between humanity and technology comes a free relationship with nature and with women. Capitalism falls apart without the reliability of raw materials and laborers and patriarchy crumbles if men and women are recognized as equal and as independent of their historical pseudo-biological, social function. So when the standing reserve is eliminated, so too are the Enframing powers motivating them, leaving women and nature as they should be left: respected, untouched, and unchanged. Primary Texts Martin Heidegger. The Question Concerning Technology. Translated by William Lovitt. New York: Harper & Row, 1977. Bacon, Sir Francis. Novum Organum. Paul Carus ed. Paul Carus Student Catalog. 3, Peter Urbach. Peru, Illinois: Open Court publishing company, 1994. 107 �Reason in Crisis: A Reflection on Edmund Husserl's The Crisis of European Sciences Nick Urban The Crisis of the European Sciences begins with a description of a fundamental cultural and philosophical failure on the part of European civilization. This failure is characterized by the inability to provide a rational account of the most important questions, for instance "of the meaning or meaninglessness of the whole of this human experience” (6). "Do not these questions,” Husserl asks, "universal and necessary for all men, demand universal reflections and answers based on rational insight?” (6]. "Of course,” we might like to say. But with regards to the meaning of human life, western modernity seems only capable of subjective accounts; "subjective" in this case signifying mere opinion. The only universally valid and apodictically certain truths are those of the objective sciences, which themselves offer no help in this matter. "In our vital need — so we are told — this science has nothing to say to us. It excludes in principle precisely the questions which man, given over in our unhappy times to the most portentous upheavals, finds the most burning” (6]. This crisis is not merely a problem for philosophers. It extends into the heart of western civilization. A blatant effect of the crisis has been that it has drawn the attention of the educated masses away from fundamental questions and into an uncritical concern for petty issues. Husserl describes this as follows: The exclusiveness with which the total world-view of modern man, in the second half of the nineteenth century, let itself be determined by the positive sciences and be blinded by the "prosperity” they produced, meant an indifferent turning-away from the questions which are decisive for a genuine humanity. Merely fact-minded sciences make merely fact-minded people. [6] Individuals who were concerned with more than mere facts were largely excluded from the mainstream culture, for they had no framework from which to address these questions in a universal way. Although the crisis manifests in all of western civilization, its root is philosophical, and so must be its remedy. "The genuine spiritual struggles of European humanity as such take the form of struggles between the philosophies, that is between the skeptical philosophies — or nonphilosophies, which retain the word but not the task — and the actual 108 �and still vital philosophies” (15). A struggle is taking place over whether philosophy — the practice of accounting for oneself with the greatest clarity — will survive at all, or whether it will be reduced to a futile relativism equivalent to the abandonment of its task. In the balance lies the question of "whether the telos, then, is merely a factual, historical delusion, the accidental acquisition of merely one among many other civilizations and histories, or whether Greek humanity was not rather the first breakthrough to what is essential to humanity as such, its entelechy” (15). Husserl champions the idea that rationality is unifying, not divisive. He concludes by saying that "to be human at all is essentially to be a human being in a socially and generatively united civilization" (15). Husserl's ideal is not one that individuals may achieve alone. Humanity in the fullest sense can flourish only in an established common world. The overwhelming diversity of opinions that appears in modernity threatens to shatter this common world into a myriad of subcultures. This fragmentation can be countered only by the production of standards universally convincing to all who enquire. The Loss of Meaning In order to understand the present predicament, Husserl looks at the development of philosophy not merely as an "historical” question, but in order to discern the "hidden telos” that has been at work throughout it. He finds that science once spoke to our deeper concerns: "The specifically human questions were not always banned from the realm of science” (7). Husserl finds that the time that most celebrated the ideal of a universal science was the Renaissance. At that time, science was more than the pursuit of abstract knowledge or the handmaiden of technology. It demanded "not only that man should be changed ethically [but that] the whole human surrounding world, the political and social existence of mankind, must be fashioned anew through free reason, through the insights of a universal philosophy" (8). At that point, philosophy still retained "the formal meaning of the one all-encompassing science, the science of the totality of what is” (8). This one body of knowledge, subdivided for convenience, but unified in reality, was to grow "from generation to generation and forever, this one edifice of definitive, theoretically interrelated truths was to solve all conceivable problems — problems of fact and of reason, problems of temporality and eternity" (9). From our contemporary vantage, it seems that project has failed. How was it that science lost the ability to address "specifically human questions”? How were such grand ambitions discarded so quickly? The questions formerly known as the "ultimate and highest,” namely, the questions of metaphysics, have become excluded as 109 �speculative or even unreal. Old arguments about the universe as a meaningful order were debunked, and new ones were not forthcoming. Science limited itself to speaking about facts, and rendered itself unable to address the meaning of human life. The branch of philosophy most directed toward addressing such meaning was metaphysics. Husserl describes the special importance of metaphysical questions as follows: "These 'metaphysical' questions, taken broadly . . . surpass the world understood as the universe of mere facts. They surpass it precisely as being questions with the idea of reason in mind” (9). During the Renaissance, "reason" indicated more than a faculty of the mind; it was a watchword for all that is most excellently human, "a title for 'absolute,' 'eternal,' 'supertemporal,' 'unconditionally' valid ideas and ideals" (9). "Reason” was truth and universality itself, not merely as applied to the objective world, but as applied to everything. It was precisely this understanding — that reason spoke to all aspects of existence — that has been lost in modernity. In place of universal science, we have positive science, which speaks only of facts. Such a science makes no attempt to justify values or provide a teleology for human life. It is in this way that "Positivism ... decapitates philosophy” (9). But why was metaphysics lost, and how did science continue without its "head”? The reason seems to concern the impressive progress of science and the apparently unsolvable quandaries of metaphysics. The positive sciences, such as physics and chemistry, showed themselves to be "unimpeachable within the legitimacy of their methodic accomplishments” (5]. They appeared to be leading mankind to a greater and more universal knowledge of the natural world. In contrast, those concerned with specifically philosophical problems produced "systemphilosophies, which were impressive but unfortunately were not unified, indeed were mutually exclusive” (10). Philosophy began to seem like a fruitless enterprise. We have begun to see reasons why science lost its ability to address human questions. Yet its implications for the positive sciences may still be unclear. The common view of the absolute practical success of modern science is oblivious to the fact that the sciences — originally conceived as branches of philosophy under the rule of metaphysics — had lost their place in the order of things, and with it, the coherence of their meaning. Formerly, metaphysics "decided on the ultimate meaning of all knowledge supplied by the other sciences” (9). Once metaphysics had been declared void, the positive sciences, though productive, were left without any obvious ends. The crisis, Husserl wrote, "does not encroach upon the theoretical and practical success of the special sciences; yet it shakes to the foundations the whole meaning of their truth” (12). 110 �A Science of Subjectivity Science, we might say, is an attempt to account for experience in terms of underlying principles. However, the positive sciences do not account for the way in which the world they study — the objective world and the world of objects — is itself grounded in the subjectivity of the life-world. Positive science is unscientific with regard to its own existence. All questions, ends and truths originate in the life-world. Objective investigations, such as positive science, are constituted and take place only within the bounds of subjectivity. Modern scientists, however, frequently do not recognize this. Husserl claims that the life-world, until the commencement of his own work, had never been made into a proper topic of investigation. He proposes a science of the life-world, which would not only be illuminating in its own right, but would allow science to ground itself through self-knowledge, and hence to be truly scientific. One reason that scientists are wary of dwelling on the subjective aspect of objectivity — that objectivity is but one part of our subjective experience — is that subjectivity has made a bad name for itself. The "subjective" has been taken to signify relativism and opinion, not truth. Husserl points out that although each subject is indeed different in some ways, the form of subjectivity is shared by all humanity. The study of subjectivity thus has its "own objectivity," meaning, and a "validity appropriated purely methodically" (133). Husserl’s "method" is not a proof but a tour. He wishes to lead us down paths of thought and experience that he has already taken. Through such a journey, we may come to a genuine understanding of his philosophy. Phenomenological proof is not like the deductions of geometry or the inductions of natural science. These are only valid of the objective world, not the subjective one that is its basis. On the contrary, as we progress in our phenomenological investigations, we encounter a primal self-evidence which precedes the apodicticity of such objective methods. Introduction to Transcendental Phenomenology Husserl professes to have discovered a method for studying subjectivity — the ground of all experience. He calls this method "transcendental phenomenology." The basic method of transcendental phenomenology is the transcendental epoche, which consists of a "withholding of natural, naive validities and in general of validities already in effect" (135) and a "reduction to the absolute ego as the ultimately unique center of function in all constitution" (186). This ego, as pure subject, provides the basis for the world of appearances. The transcendental ego is all that is left when one withholds the validities of the world. It is then on the basis of that which the world ("our world") is possible at all. "I, the ego carrying out 111 �the epoche, am not included in its realm of objects but... am excluded in principle” (77). This absolute ego is called the "transcendental ego," because it transcends the "internal" world of subjectivity and the "external" world of objects. It is impersonal because the soul, in so far as it is more than the world-constituting absolute ego, is a part of the world: the "inner” part. In the transcendental epoche, the soul's validities are suspended along with those of the objective world, and hence the bare "bones” of the transcendental ego are all that remain. The Paradox One of the great philosophical difficulties that transcendental phenomenology addresses is the paradox that "man, and in communalization mankind, is subjectivity for the world and at the same time is supposed to be in it in an objective and worldly manner” (262). How can man, while constituting the world in his subjectivity, exist as an object inside that very world? The natural sciences simply ignore this problem. They deny the primary reality of the subjective world, examining everything, even the soul, from the "outside.” From the perspective of natural science, any inner experience that may exist is merely a byproduct of material processes. The material world is determinable according to the laws of physics, and more generally, mathematics. The life-world, which is originally encountered in a way that is manifold, particular, and heterogeneous, is reinterpreted in the eyes of science as a natural-world consisting of continuous, idealized space, filled with matter that behaves according to the universal and uniform laws. This method of objectifying nature has produced much useful knowledge and many powerful inventions. Yet as applied to the soul in the form of naturalistic psychology, Husserl tells us it is doomed to failure. He writes that "objectivity after the fashion of natural science is downright absurd when applied to the soul” (377). The soul does not behave in the manner of worldly things. Worldly objects appear in space and time. Spatiotemporality is "the universal form of the real world" (216). Similarly, the physical world is a "self-enclosed natural causality in which every occurrence is determined unequivocally and in advance” (60). Bodies are spatiotemporal and take place in causal chains. But neither of these is true for the soul. The soul is "embodied” and "takes part” only indirectly in the space-time of bodies. It is not itself spatial, nor is it causal: the psychic, considered purely in terms of its own essence, has no [physical] nature, has no conceivable in-itself in the natural sense, no spatiotemporally causal, no idealizable 112 �and mathematizable in-itself, no laws after the fashion of natural laws. [222) It would make little sense to expect a science that models the worldly to have any application to that which is beyond the world and which does not share in its fundamental properties. This explains why natural science has so little to say about the properties of subjectivity: it is beyond its methods. Yet this objection still has not reached its most essential formulation. The problem, in the most general sense, is that one cannot use principles and methods derived from the analysis of worldly objects to understand how there is a world at all. This question is "out of the jurisdiction” of natural science. The inability of the prevailing natural science to address subjectivity [and thus to speak to the meaning of human life) results in the crisis discussed in the first part of this paper. Husserl’s response is a return to the primordiality of subjective experience in the form of transcendental phenomenology. When one assumes the "transcendental attitude" of the epoche, "the life-world transforms itself ... it proves to be a mere 'component,' so to speak, within concrete transcendental subjectivity” [174). The transcendental attitude reveals that the methodologically appropriated apodictic truths of natural science are themselves merely one among many varieties of experience that take place in the ego according to the "laws of subjectivity.” Transcendental phenomenology is a new science, a primordial science that investigates the structures of subjectivity and the difficult question of how the world is always there, "pre-given” to us from the start. When transcendental phenomenology has been established as the foundational knowledge of how there is a world, only then can natural science [knowledge of the objects of the world) get underway in a rigorous manner. In order to regain both rigor and meaning, science must recognize its derivative position. Transcendental phenomenology becomes the new "Queen of the Sciences.” Now that we understand the role which Husserl wants phenomenology to play, let us take a closer look at its methods and implications. Intersubjectivity When 1 close my eyes, does the world cease to be? For Husserl, the answer is emphatically, "No.” How is it that the world is already there with established standards that 1 myself do not create? The answer lies in the intersubjective character of "inner experience.” In order for the world to be for us in advance, we must appeal to the existence of souls other than our own. For Husserl, subjectivity is "an ego functioning 113 �constitutively . . . within intersubjectivity" (172]. It is not plausible that we each invent our own values, concepts and activities out of whole cloth, because that contradicts our experience. We inherit most of these things from an already existing intersubjective world. Yet how this is so, is far from obvious. Husserl makes the point that "the epoche creates a unique sort of philosophical solitude" (184]. This means, at the most basic level, we have only our own ego as self-evident. But if this is the case, how do we become aware that others are the same as ourselves? Husserl says that this is something we learn in the epoche, but only by performing a "constitutive accomplishment": This is what philosophical self-exposition in the epoche actually teaches us. It can show how the always singular "I," in the original constituting life proceeding within it, constitutes a first sphere of objects, the "primordial" sphere; how it then, starting from this in a motivated fashion, performs a constitutive accomplishment through which an intentional modification of itself and its primordiality achieves ontic validity under the title of "alien-perception," perception of others, of another "I" who is for himself an "I" as I am. (185] This is, unfortunately, one of the less clearly explained concepts in The Crisis of the European Sciences. Because of its importance, we will now have a careful look at the text. In the paragraph quoted above, Husserl calls the change that the ego performs an "intentional modification of itself and its primordiality." "Intentionality" in the crisis refers to the directedness of subjects towards objects. Therefore, all that the "intentional modification" seems to signify so far is that the attitude of the ego performing the epoche towards an objective human being is changed in some way, but how that directedness is changed has not been specified. Husserl gives us a hint when he says that the recognition of the other as an ego is analogous to the identification in recollection of one's past-self with one's present-self. He writes: Self-temporalization through depresentation, so to speak, (through recollection], has its analogue in my self­ alienation (empathy as a depresentation of a higher level — depresentation of my primal presence]. Thus in me, "another I" achieves ontic validity as copresent with his own ways of being self-evidently verified, which are obviously quite different from those of a "sense"perception. (185] 114 �The self-alienation in this case seems to signify the removal of the "special" way in which one regards the immediately present "I” (the ego cogito) as the singularly valid consciousness. One recognizes that oneself is a consciousness rather than the consciousness. The recognition of others as egos is called "empathy.” Husserl describes this empathy as a "depresentation of a higher level” of the primal presence of the "1.” Depresentation as applied to self-temporalization means removing one's "temporal bias” towards the presently manifesting ego in exchange for understanding oneself as a unity through time. "Depresentation of a higher level” likewise refers to the removal of one's "bias” towards one's own transcendental ego as the one that one personally experiences, allowing one to recognize the way in which each "other” is also a transcendental ego. This later account of empathy sheds more light on this: "[EJmpathies” [are] perceptions of others that appear among my original intentions. Through the reduction [others] are transformed from human beings existing for me into alter egos existing for me, having the ontic meaning of implicata of my original intentional life. [258] The other achieves ontic validity as an "I” by being the implicata of original intentional life — that is, one's directedness towards objects implicates (or implies] the other as an "1.” The other human beings which we originally have with the self-evidence of objects in the life-world are transformed, in the transcendental epoche, into "alter egos.” That is to say that when 1 reduce myself from personal soul into bare transcendental ego, 1 perform the same operation on my "having” of others. This is so "originally,” meaning that one cannot be directed towards objects in a way that does not imply the existence of other egos like oneself. These concepts of "depresentation” and "implication” offer a solution to the question of how we know others to be egos like ourselves, and yet, as modes of inference of the subjectivity of others, these concepts cannot explain how the world exists for us in advance. Nor do these concepts address the fact that, just as others are implied by my intentionality, so am 1 implied by theirs. "I, with my whole original life, am implied in them; and they are all likewise implied in one another” (258). To better understand these questions, we must turn to Husserl's account of communalization. Communalization In our previous investigation, we established that intentionality, as our directedness towards objects, implies the existence of other egos. Such 115 �reasoning can be used to convince oneself of the necessity that others exist as egos, but it says nothing of how we have these others, nor how we together constitute the world. When Husserl describes the character of naturalistic psychology, one of the things he mentions is that souls are seen as "mutually external," isolated from each other by the separation of their bodies. Thus natural psychology is possible only as individual psychology. But in transcendental philosophy, which is, at the same time, a transcendental psychology, the "spiritual world" appears as just as much of a unity as the natural one. Husserl writes: [JJust as there is a sole universal nature as a self-enclosed framework of unity, so there is a sole psychic framework, a total framework of all souls, which are united not externally but internally, namely through the intentional interpenetration which is the communalization of their lives. (255) It is this world, as it is constituted by the intentional network of intersubjectivity, that is the proper subject of transcendental psychology, which as a "pure psychology" is concerned only with how we have the world — with subjectivity and intersubjectivity as such. But even as Husserl marks off this subject matter, what lies within its boundary remains fuzzy. He says that the "internality" of souls, what we usually think of as the most isolated — is actually something shared by all. The world for each of us is the world for all of us, necessarily. The spiritual atomism supposed by Descartes’ meditations, or by modern science, is merely an abstraction — something imagined. We can never experience the world in that way. The idea of an isolated soul is the product of thought experiments such as Descartes describes. It is not primary in our experience. Rather, "what is a mutual externality from the point of view of naive positivity or objectivity is, when seen from the inside, an intentional mutual internality" (257). As a result of this, "the world exists not only for isolated men but for the community of men; and this is due to the fact that even what is straightforwardly perceptual is communalized" (163). Husserl says that even simple perception cannot take place except on the ground of the world-for-all — perhaps because perception must be the perception of particular things, which are only recognizable because they have been predetermined as having the identify of "this" and "that" through their involvement in our intentional networks. 116 �The Mystery of Intentionality Husserl’s concept of intentionality is a key factor linking the paradox of the simultaneous subjectivity and objectivity of man with the similarly intimidating (and overlapping] problem of intersubjectivity. Intentionality, as we said before, is the directedness of a subject towards objects. To be intentionally related to objects is to be "consciously affected by these things, actively attending to them or in general perceiving them, actively remembering them, thinking about them, planning and acting in respect to them” (235]. Intentionality is also defined as "the title which stands for the only actual and genuine way of explaining [and] making intelligible" (168]. Insofar as we have a world, it is a world that we are related to intentionally. Insofar as it precedes us and exceeds us, it is a world that we have through the mutual intentionality of others: Within the vitally flowing intentionality in which the life of an ego-subject consists, every other ego is already intentionally implied in advance by way of empathy and the empathy-horizon. (255] The life of an ego-subject is itself a vitally flowing intentionality. In so far as we are, we are intentional. We make our existence intelligible and meaningful through our comportment toward the objects of the world and toward each other as subjects. We cannot be directed toward the former without being directed toward the latter. Every intention implies the existence of the other egos inside of our empathy-horizon. The fact that empathy functions as a horizon indicates that while, at any time, we are aware of only so many others, at the same time we know in advance that with every movement (physical or spiritual], our horizons shift, and new egos, which we were already prepared to receive as potentially present, appear to us as actually present and influence our comportment toward the things of the world and toward each other. If one doubts that the existence of objects implies the existence of others, one ought to consider whether any of the ways he relates to the world would make sense without others. Our relation to others not only determines the goals of our interactions with the objective world, but also makes possible the recognition of the meaning and identity of the objects that we seemingly encounter alone. Even something as apparently solitary as eating requires both types of relations toward others. What we eat and how we eat it is determined by the pre-given meanings of foods, utensils, tables, etc. And at the same time, even the purpose of our eating, as self-preservation, can have meaning in the full sense only when one's 117 �continued existence is an existence that contains relationships with other human beings. Investigations in Experience As we carry out our phenomenological investigations, the old problems and the old language blink in and out of focus. The question of whether the objective world or the subjective world is prior, as the contest between naturalism and idealism, takes on a strange appearance as a question that only makes sense on the basis of a profound misunderstanding. Consciousness cannot produce the world, because consciousness is intentionality, which is directedness toward the world. The world cannot produce consciousness because "the world” is a name for "a mere 'component' . . . within concrete transcendental subjectivity” (174). From the perspective of the individual, self-consciousness and the world are two aspects of experience "inside” of oneself-the-subject. But the intentionality that constitutes one's consciousness is also predicated on the existence of other egos and vice versa. Perhaps this is why Husserl speaks of a "universal apperception” which is "constitutive of all particular apperceptions, giving them the ontic sense of 'psychic experiences of this and that human being'” (209). This suggests that all experiences, both internal and external, are manifestations of something that is beyond both "interiority” and "exteriority.” If this seems strange or extreme, we must not forget that Husserl says that there is something uniquely profound about transcendental phenomenology — that it is radical in the most serious sense, destined to effect, for the one who performs it, a personal transformation "comparable in the beginning to a religious conversion” (137). In order to really understand the philosophy that Husserl propounds, we must get ourselves, "off of the page.” We must perform the epoche along with him and search for our own self-evidences. If we would know the self­ evidences Husserl claims for the function of empathy or the primordiality of the subject, we must test them in lived practice, not merely examine them as concepts. Reason and the Telos of Mankind This essay began with an attempt to understand the nature of the "crisis." At that point, it appeared to be the failure of western modernity to give an account for the meaning of human life. We found that the methods of positive science and modern mathematics were the only ones recognized as providing the self-evidence required for universal claims, yet they excluded in principle the issues that are of the greatest concern. 118 �Throughout our investigation, we have seen the ways in which transcendental phenomenology provides an all-encompassing framework for understanding experience, in both the psychic and apparent spheres. We have seen that the "objective" world is constituted and necessarily implied by subjectivity in the form of intersubjectivity. We will conclude, however, with the significantly more passionate concern Husserl manifests towards the end of his work. We might call this his existential turn. Parallel to the fact that the world is subjectively constituted, Husserl finds that man-as-an-individual is a personally self-constituting and thus self-responsible being: A new meaning is . . . given to human existence; [man's] existence in the spatiotemporally pregiven world as the self-objectification of transcendental subjectivity and its being, its constituting life; what follows this is the ultimate self-understanding of man as being responsible for his own human being: his self-understanding as being in being called to a life of apodicticity. (340) In so far as the subject constitutes the world, it constitutes itself, objectifies itself into a man in the world, a particular man, for whom it is responsible. This being understands itself, is responsible for itself, not in any way, but as called to "the life of apodicticity" — the life of reason. Reason is the specific characteristic of man, as a being living in personal activities and habitualities. This life, as personal life, is a constant becoming through a constant intentionality of development. What becomes, in this life, is the person himself. (338) Reason is what makes man himself, both personally and as a species. Man is who he is, as an individual, as a result of his activities and habitualities. The life of a man is ever changing through his actions and his intentional relations with the world, and his ultimate product is none other than himself. Husserl does not say why reason is the definitive characteristic of man, but we can infer it from what has gone before. A succinct statement of this is that man is "called to a life of apodicticity." He has self­ understanding as a being called to such a life — which is not to say that he actually thinks of his understanding as such. To put it another way, what are we looking for in seeking proof that we are called to a life of apodicticity, if not an argument which itself manifests apodicticity? We might call this a tautology of the second order. That the life of apodicticity, as philosophy, is uncommon — no one doubts. But who 119 �could doubt that every man acts on the basis of what he finds convincing? That some are further on the path of apodictic transparency than others, that there are frequent setbacks and disruptions, does not contradict the idea that man is, in this way, called to reason. On the contrary, the "total phenomenological attitude . . . bears within itself the significance of the greatest existential transformation which is assigned as a task to mankind as such" (137). By steps and stages, individually and together, we are shaping ourselves into greater self-awareness and self­ responsibility. Human personal life proceeds in stages of self-reflection and self-responsibility from isolated occasional acts of this form to the stage of universal self-reflection and self­ responsibility ... [Man] strives to realize his innate reason ... to be true to himself... (338) As individuals, we each have our own particular projects and concerns. To be "true to ourselves” differs for each "self." Yet if 1 may be permitted to speculate, 1 would say that when we engage in the apodictic life, regardless of its unique manifestation, we are each refined by it in like manner. As our self-understanding develops, we become truer to our purposes. We embrace a principle of parsimony and move to justify each aspect of our lives according to fewer and fewer principles. Finally, each choice, as a fundamental choice, becomes perfectly expressed in rational self-development. We overcome the awkwardness of the novice and gain the grace and economy of movement of the master craftsman. Yet above and beyond these individual projects, there is one purpose, the apodictic telos, which all men share. This consists of reason not merely as an instrument but as a goal. To follow reason, to follow our best judgment which acts in accordance with our limited understanding, to endlessly revise our positions and our person in self-reflection, to be true to ourselves not as individuals but as that-which-lives-apodictically — this is a practice that culminates in "universally, apodictically grounded and grounding science ... as the necessarily highest function of mankind" (338). This function is the expression of mankind’s universal telos. Being human is teleological being and an ought-to-be . . . this teleology holds sway in each and every activity and project of an ego ... through self-understanding in all this it can know the apodictic telos. (341) Just as mankind is inevitably directed towards apodicticity, towards that which is ultimately convincing, so are we drawn towards valuations, to say this-ought-to-be, and that-ought-not. Of all possible goals, there is one 120 �thing that is a universal telos for mankind, an "apodictic telos," which is available to the self-understanding of man as such. That purpose is none other than reason itself. Man’s ought-to-be is an ought-to-be-reasonable. His will is the will to refine himself as reasonable, and according to reason. This exercise of reason is a recursive, adaptive process that never reaches a final point. As Husserl says, "rationality is an idea residing in the infinite" (339). We are always already in the world, with various practical concerns, understandings, and misunderstandings. Reason begins as a recognition of apodicticity in the form of a basic self-evidence. From this, through generations, apodicticity itself is recognized as the goal, and this marks the beginning of philosophy. Apodicticity pursues itself, through all its faults and corrections. At a certain point, historically, in the invention of transcendental phenomenology, apodicticity recognizes itself not merely as "truth" or "logic," but as the endless process of self-improvement that in itself constitutes the telos of mankind. Mankind understanding itself as rational, understanding that it is rational in seeking to be rational; that this signifies an infinity of living and striving toward reason; that reason is precisely that which man qua man, in his innermost being, is aiming for, that which alone can satisfy him, make him "blessed." (340-341) The meaning of life reveals itself as this infinite seeking and striving towards reason, towards self-understanding and development. By finding meaning through this understanding of ourselves as seeking the "apodictic life," the life of philosophy, we restore once again to our practical activities the notion, lost since the loss of metaphysics, that our toils are in service of something greater. Our destination remains unknown, but now — and perhaps forever — we are on the way. Primary Text Edmund Husserl. The Crisis of European Sciences and Transcendental Phenomenology. Translated by David Carr. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1970. 121 �9654032R0007 Made in the USA Charleston, SC 30 September 2011 �r � 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 Early Writings: An Academic Journal Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Meem Library 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 Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 133 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 Early writings : an academic journal, 2011 Description An account of the resource The annual academic journal published by the Graduate Institute in Santa Fe. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Creighton, Mary (Editor) 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 Santa Fe, NM Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2011 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 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Connolly, Brian (Editor) Allen, Jeffrey (Editor) Wycliff, Grant (Editor) Hungerford, John (Editor) McShea, Caitlin (Editor) Coscia, Max (Editor) Kun, Alex (Editor) Brogan, Charles (Editor) Kilani, Anastasia (Cover Design) McGee, Bethany LePluart-Kamm, Celine Lopez, Reina Condra, Clint Plowman, Natalie Cartmell, Nathan Resor, Turner Marasinghe, Kanishka G. B. Urban, Nick Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SF_Early_Writings_2011 Academic journal Early Writings Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/294f1edca060f3451fc793df8d122246.pdf 66b4848ba1b9dccc642ef216df17e052 PDF Text Text EARLY WRITINGS AN ACADEMIC JOURNAL ��Early Writings: An Academic Journal St. John's College Graduate Iilstitute Santa Fe, New Mexico 2012 SIJOHN’S College ANNAPOLIS • SANTA FE This project is dedicated to Mary Versace, without whom we would be lost in a haunted wood, children afraid of the night, who have never been happy or good. ��Early Writings: An Academic Journal St. John's College Graduate Institute Santa Fe, New Mexico 2012 Publishers Mary Creighton Casey Carr Jesse Wilhite Editors Mary Creighton Casey Carr Jesse Wilhite Brian Connolly Jeffrey Allen Selection Committee Brian Connolly Jeffrey Allen Kevin Cowling Jeffrey Ondocsin Sky Tallman Caitlin McShea Charles Brogan Max Coscia Jesse Wilhite Casey Carr Cover Design Anastasia Kilani �Contents: A Note About Our Project Mary Creighton, Casey Carr, Jesse Wilhite iv Synergy and the Possibility of Knowledge in Plato’s Meno Jeremy Boor 1 Reductionist Language, Expansionist Soma Jeffrey Ondocsin 15 Because It Feels Wrong: Hume’s Account of Moral Judgment Joshua Falconer 20 Surrender to Poetry: The Unsolved Duel Between Idea and Experience Bethany McGee 27 Kindness in Aristotle’s High-Minded Man Daphne Leveriza 35 11 �A Work in Progress: The Natural Connection in the Land of the Future in Hegel’s "Geographical Basis of History" Jeffrey Allen 41 The Path of the Good King: A Journey from Loss to Renewal and Return in the Mahabharata Turner Resor 46 That Fair Passion: Dejection and Desire in Alexander Pushkin's Eugene Onegin Mary Creighton 58 111 �A Note About Our Project Early Writings: An Academic Journal 2012 marks the second edition of our project in the Graduate Institute at St. John’s College, Santa Fe. This publication is a collection of essays composed by graduate students in both the Eastern Classics and Liberal Arts program. One of the crowning practices of those studying the Great Books is that of inquiry. We find that the passage through any text is both byzantine and yet necessarily careful. Each step is precise, specific, and each is directed by the kind of questions we ask. In our experience studying these texts, we have learned not only to ask careful and precise questions, but also to ask the most demanding and largest questions we could. This collection of essays is compelling proof that students are taking up these questions outside of the classrooms that initially inspired them. Further, students are developing, investigating, and truly grappling with the inquiries that emerged in communion. Consider the questions in this compilation alone: What is the precise meaning of recollection for Socrates? How can language be used to organize the psychic realm? Can we acquire moral judgments through sensory experience alone? How can one find refuge through poetry given the seemingly irreconcilable logo-centric notions of “idea” and “experience”? What kind of man is Aristotle’s “high-minded man” and is his magnanimity at the expense of his kindness? How can Hegel’s notion of Spirit be understood through geography? How does the Mahabharata explain what it means to be a “good” king? And what must a ruler endure to become one? How does Pushkin re-interpret the Christian tale of man’s fall in Eden? What role do passion and desire play in human happiness? Each of these inquiries addresses a “how” or a “why” question. Not only do these inquiries investigate deeper philosophical issues, but they seek to explain the details and inner workings of the ideas at hand. One does not ask, “What makes a good king in the Mahabharata?” but, “How is he good and what psychic and spiritual experiences have made him that way?” One does not ask if geography plays a part in Hegel’s notion of Spirit but “How does a geographically-based culture affect IV �Hegel’s very meaning of Spirit?” These very investigations are the mark of eager minds and their earnest quest toward knowledge. This edition of the Journal was created in the same manner as its pilot edition. Anonymous copies of student submissions were carefully reviewed by a selection committee comprised of members of the Graduate Institute. It is due to their hard work and dedication that this diverse collection exists for you to read today. Editors who submitted to the journal surrendered their voting rights during review of their essay and the occasion of their submission remained confidential. Upon selection, a small team of editors reviewed the works for minor changes and corrections, including grammar and syntax. Next, an even smaller team of publishers designed and formatted the content for publication. Thank you to all those in the student body who have worked so hard to put this project together and to our Graduate Director, Mr. Davis, who continually supports us through all of our endeavors. Your Publishers and Executive Editors, Mary Creighton Casey Carr Jesse Wilhite ��Synergy and the Possibility of Knowledge in Plato's Meno Jeremy Boor jusv ro/wv TOVTOV TOO Xoyiaiiov, m Msvcov, deig. fioipg (paivemi napayiyvopevt] ^ dpexfi oig av napayiyvrjxai- to de oaipsg nepi avrov eiaopeda TOTS, OTav Ttpiv Sttvi TpOTTCp ToiQ dvOpoiTtoiQ napayiyvsxai aperi^ , npoTspov SKixsipr\a(opev amb l^t]T£iv ti ttot ’ scniv dpsTtj. vvv d ’ spot pev &pa noi isvai, av Ss Tama xama dnep avxbg nsTTSiaai neiOe xai rov (fevov rov^e "Awtov, iva npgoTSpog p- cog sav neiapg tovtov, scniv Sti Kai ’Adpvaiovg ovpasig. According to this thinking, 0 Meno, it appears to us that it is by divine dispensation that virtue comes to be with those men to whomsoever it may come. And we will be more certain about this when we apply ourselves first to seeking what virtue is in itself before asking in what manner it comes to be with men. But now it is time for me to go. But do convince your guestfriend Anytus here about these things concerning which you yourself are convinced, so that he may be more gentle. For ifyou should convince him, you will also truly benefit the Athenians. [Meno, Plato 100;b2-c2J* Increasing Virtue by Declaring it Un-teachable Socrates, that old stingray, is befuddling us again. He appears to be couching some immortal intuition (some dpOfj do^a, darkly retained from his hypo-/hyper-cosmic psychic sojourns between lives] between an ostensibly sound conclusion on one hand, and a hopeful bit of moral advice on the other. In so doing, and quite to the point, he utterly contradicts himself. There is a bold, if somewhat hidden, disagreement between the dialogue’s resolution— that virtue is un-teachable, extra-natural, and unaccompanied by knowledge— and Socrates' opinion that Anytus will become meeker if only Meno should convince him of this very thing. It will be odd, if upon conclusion, we see that one can lead a man to virtue by teaching him that virtue cannot be taught. We should certainly investigate what this might mean. We might try to escape this confusion by saying that Socrates is not thinking of virtue at all when he asks Meno to help improve Anytus through argument. Perhaps the meekness that Socrates hopes will come to Anytus is not a part of virtue, or perhaps it does not require the kind of 1 �virtue that is unattainable by natural or didactic means. But the change in character that Socrates predicts does in fact agree with the more definite descriptions of virtue that have appeared in the dialogue. A constant relationship between virtue and good statesmanship has been maintained throughout. The virtuous man is always beneficent; if he is a statesman he will be a good one, valued by the polls. To be virtuous is to be good, to be good is to be beneficent, and the beneficent man guides us rightly in our affairs.i He is therefore good for the polls. Socrates re-invokes this relationship immediately before his parting advice to Meno; "... [virtue] comes to those who possess it as a gift from the gods which is not accompanied by understanding, unless there is someone among our statesmen who can make another into a statesman."^ Socrates believes that Anytus shall be a better statesman, by way of increased meekness, if he learns to see virtue as a divine gift, one beyond man's power to attain through learning.^ But does Socrates give Meno this last advice in earnest? Are we to read him as sincerely believing that Anytus can and will become meeker and more beneficent if Meno can only convince him to stop thinking of virtue as a kind of knowledge that one man obtains from another, and to begin thinking of it as a gift from the gods? Perhaps he is being coy, or Plato is being sarcastic. Given the historical records of both Meno and Anytus, we might be meant to read only tragic irony in Socrates' parting words. The reader is assumed to know that Anytus is going to accuse Socrates before the Athenian court in the irascible way in which he accused the Sophists earlier in the dialogue, showing himself thereby to be anything but npdoq. Whether Meno tried to persuade him or not, Anytus did not become better. He continued in his ways to the lasting detriment of Athens (and perhaps of Socrates, depending on your point of view]. Remembering the stiffness of Anytus' neck, we are to lament the naivete of Socrates, who did not see the vanity of his own counsel. Such counsel Plato only puts in his mouth as a final, historical, and dramatic demonstration of the insurmountable incommunicability ofvirtue.'* On the other hand, Socrates' choice of words implies that he does not merely hope that Anytus will become better if Meno should convince him. He is certain that an improvement will result; "For if you should convince this one, it is the case that you are going to benefit the Athenians"* (cw? eav micjtjg romov, saxiv on xa'i ’AOtjvaiovq ovrfaEiq). "Convincing” and "being meeker” are stated in the subjunctive, but the result of benefit to the polis (which depends on the former] is stated in 2 �the indicative. Anytus may be a difficult case, and Meno might fail to persuade him. But if he does persuade, the results are certain and the increase in virtue implicit. Socrates believes that understanding virtue as a divine gift is morally beneficial, at least as far as Anytus is concerned. The conclusion of the dialogue thus stands: Virtue cannot be taught. But if you manage to teach a bad man this fact, he will get better. To make matters worse, it is difficult to be sure that Socrates is thoroughly persuaded of the truth of his and Meno's resolution concerning the provenance of virtue. He speaks of the conclusion guardedly, making it contingent on the correctness of the initial conditions of inquiry. However, he has accepted these conditions only as a concession to Meno:"... but if we were right in the way we investigated this whole discussion . . . ,"5 "According to this reasoning (Ek ^isv xoiwv xovxov xov Xoyiaixov), it appears to us that virtue comes . . . according to divine fate ... "^ There is still more to learn about this matter, and a greater degree of certainty to be attained. This certainty can only be approached by abandoning the conditions on which the resolution was reached. This Socrates accepted when he conceded to Meno's insistence on seeking how virtue is attained without first having decided what virtue is: 5s aa(peg nspi avxov siaopeda xoxs, oxav npiv axivi xpoKCp xoig a\>9pco7xoig napayiyvsxai dpsxi], npdxspov snixsipdocopsv avxd Cfjxsiv xi Tiox ’ saxiv dpextj. TO The conclusion, while morally beneficial for Anytus, is as valid as its premises, which are in doubt. This is not the first time that Socrates has indicated that some convictions can make us better even if the dialectic that leads to them is questionable. Immediately after the slave-boy experiment, he says: I do not insist that my argument is right in all other respects, but I would contend at all costs both in word and deed as far as I could that we will be better men, braver and less idle, if we believe that one must search for the things one does not know, rather than if we believe that it is not possible to find out what we do not know and that we must not look for it. (86:b7-c2) Socrates is not as concerned with the veracity of his account of learningas-recollection as he is firmly attached to its result; namely, that we can and should learn what we do not know. One must be convinced that we 3 �should seek knowledge because this conviction will make us better. We might be justified in thinking that he has a similar attitude regarding the conclusion that virtue comes to man in no other way but by mysterious divine dispensation [which itself appears simply as an incomprehensible alternative to the more easily conceivable "teaching” and "nature"). Removing the acquisition of virtue from the grasp of teaching and nature produces, in Socrates’s eyes, a morally effective teaching that is well suited to the characters of both Meno and Anytus, regardless of the solidity of the dialectical foundations of the same teaching. None of this is meant to say that Socrates thinks that his and Meno’s conclusion regarding virtue and its acquisition is simply false. Eacp^g, when it refers to assertions or facts, means "sure,” "certain.” When it refers to persons, as in this case, it means "unerring." If we continue the attempt to seek what virtue itself is before asking how it is attained, we will be more sure about the means of attaining it. If this certainty still includes a statement that virtue cannot be taught but is a divine gift, then we will understand such a statement better, having a better idea of what virtue in fact is. But for now we know only that the outcome of our discussion of its attainment is true insofar as the hypothetical discussion [beginning with Socrates' agreement to seek the origin of virtue on Meno’s terms) is valid. But two very different attitudes toward teaching and knowledge have been demonstrated during the dialogue. If there will be a difference in the way we see the conclusion once we have investigated what virtue is, it will likely have to do with the difference between the view of knowledge that Socrates espouses before his concession to Meno, and the one that he adopts in order to bring the discussion to a firm conclusion, as Meno wishes. We shall examine the difference between these two views more thoroughly hereafter. The Concession Since we will be referring not infrequently to what I have called Socrates’ concession to Meno, it would be good to establish that such a concession did occur, and to point out just what was conceded. After being convinced by Socrates that learning is really recollection, and that we will always be better men if we believe that we can find out what we do not know, Meno is almost ready to take up the quest for virtue again, but not quite: Meno: But Socrates, I should be most pleased to hear your answer to my original question, whether we should try [to discover 4 �virtue] on the assumption that virtue is something teachable, or is a natural gift, or in whatever way it comes to men. Socrates: If 1 were in control, Meno, not only of myself but also of you, we would not have investigated whether virtue is teachable or not before we had investigated what virtue itself is. But because you do not even attempt to rule yourself, in order that you may be free, but you try to rule me and do so, 1 will agree with you— for what can 1 do? (86:c8-d9]* Here Socrates quite grudgingly agrees to go on with the discussion in the way Meno wants to proceed. He portrays himself as being forced to do so by Meno's overbearing will and his lack of self-control. Here Meno is not ruling himself, but rather is trying to rule Socrates. This is symptomatic of a state of soul Socrates associates with Meno's lack of freedom. In a single turn of phrase, Socrates and Meno have gone from being of the same mind (6/uovoov/uevf and taking-in-hand to seek in common [Koivfj Cwivy the nature of virtue, to being portrayed as adversaries divided by Meno's perceived insistence on ruling others but not himself. If Socrates sees Meno's failure to rule himself— his failure to be the principle of himself (av aavtov ovS emxsipeig apxsiv, iva Stj s^svOspog — to be a failure of freedom, then Socrates has implied that he himself is in fact free, since he does rule himself, but not Meno: “’AAX si psv sycb ^pxov, & Msvcov, pfj povov spavxov alia xai aov ...." And so Socrates, preserving his internal freedom in submitting to Meno's lack thereof, gives up what has been his main contention for the preceding bulk of the dialogue; that, since he does not know what virtue itself is, he is unable to seek out whether or not it is teachable. Not only has he conceded this point, but he goes on to rescind the outcome that had seemed an important demonstration about the nature of learning. "First, if [virtue] is another sort than knowledge, is it teachable or not, as we were just saying recollectable? Let it make no difference to us which term we use: is it teachable? Or is it plain to everyone that men cannot be taught anything but knowledge?"ii Perhaps there is nothing dangerous about this equation. "Recollection" was, after all, the Socratic picture of what men normally call "learning."i2 But during the demonstration Socrates did not insist that knowledge was not learned, since learning can be another name for recollection. He wanted to show that it was not taught, where teaching is understood as the transmission of quantities of information from a knowing subject to an ignorant one. This is what Socrates strives to show 5 �that he is not doing with the slave-boy. Recollection consists of the soul's gradual elucidation to itself of facts and principles that somehow lie hidden within it, even though the process may be aided by the questioning of an experienced interlocutor. But now, capitulating to Meno's desire to discover how virtue is obtained, Socrates also accepts a view of knowledge that makes it coextensive with teaching. The latter is conceived precisely as Meno always tends to see it: as the transmission of a quantity of information, which can then be easily transmitted to others, perhaps for a fee, or at least for a good reputation. The examples of "teaching” that are given in the post-concession dialogue conform to this view. The conclusion that virtue is not knowledge, and is therefore neither teachable not learnable, is based on premises that Socrates accepts only hypothetically, in order to finally be able to maintain a discussion with Meno that is capable of coming to some sort of conclusion. Socrates speaks of these conclusions guardedly, making them contingent on the correctness of the initial hypotheses: "... but if we were right in the way we investigated this whole discussion . . . "According to this reasoning of the moment (Ek jusv wivvv rovrov too Xoyia/uov), it appears to us that virtue comes ... according to divine fate ... /'14 The main difference between the pre-concession and post­ concession portions of the dialogue seems to lie in the attitude taken toward knowledge and teaching. Socrates strives to bring Meno to his own view of knowledge within the context of a discussion about virtue, while Meno unflaggingly clings to his old attitude, summed up in his repeated requests to have Socrates simply tell him about virtue. Having finally failed to bring Meno around, Socrates accepts Meno’s attitude hypothetically, and the two of them begin to come to conclusions rather rapidly. Simple equations at last begin to be made: Knowledge is what is taught.15 Virtue as a whole or in part is wisdom.Revising this view, knowledge is solidification through reasoning of right opinion.i^ Thinking along with Socrates that a Meno or an Anytus can be morally improved by thinking of virtue as having little to do with their ideas of knowledge, teaching, or nature, we must ask whether there are different ideas of these to be had. And if there are, we should see if this tells us anything about virtue. If we are very lucky, we might have some idea of how to acquire it, which idea may or may not include some more thoroughly explained notion of virtue as a divine gift. 6 �The Language of Knowledge in Meno For those of us who would like to gain a clearer understanding of the intelligible world by attaching ever more precise descriptions of rather elusive concepts to an ever increasing number of old Greek words, the Meno is a frustrating work. Aristotle, in his Nicomachaean Ethics, is kind enough to precisely delineate acocpia, emax^nr], vovq, and (ppovijaig as "dianoetic virtues." Aristotle's waters are never muddied (except in translation) by classing these under such a nebulous and unwieldy term as "knowledge” or "wisdom." But the Socrates of the Meno has little interest in such niceties. Prior to the slave-boy episode, Socrates uses mostly verbs and adverbial phrases to speak of knowledge, and almost always in the negative: [ovSe avrd 6ti kox’ saxl to napanav apsxr\ wy/dvco eidcog). At the conclusion of the slave-boy episode, emart^pt} becomes the favored nominal form for knowledge, being the thing that the slave-boy has discovered within his own soul. Likewise, in the concluding discussion of the relation of knowledge and true opinion, smartjpt] is what opOfj Sd^a may become when clarified and stabilized by causal reasoning. But, in between and throughout, Socrates uses (ppovtjoig, emcrciipr], and vovg interchangeably. These names refer to a single thing, and we know only that, when present, knowledge makes everything in the soul act well. Later, we learn that there is an assistant in this duty, which seems to do most of the work while real knowledge is away. It would seem that the distinction between knowledge and true opinion is the only one Socrates is interested in making. If we are to get at his attitude toward knowledge in order to ask how it differs from Meno’s, and subsequently to inquire what this difference might say about the moral efficacy of the dialogue’s conclusion, then we must look to the distinction between knowledge and true opinion. This distinction is, after all, one of the only things that Socrates would claim to know, if ever he were to make such a claim.i^ Knowledge and Right Opinion Opdfi do^a makes two distinct appearances in the dialogue. Its second entry, right before the conclusion, is the more conspicuous, since it is here that right opinion is plainly contrasted with knowledge, and their relationship elucidated. The explanation of the difference between the two allows us to see how virtue, although it is beneficial, can be something other than knowledge, how it is not necessarily "accompanied by understanding."!^ 7 �But right opinion also has a significant role to play in the slaveboy discussion, and its distinction from knowledge there is not as clear: Socrates: How does it seem to you, Meno? Has he answered with some opinion that was not of his own? Meno: No, but it was his own. Socrates: And wasn't he ignorant, as we said a short time ago? Meno: You speak the truth. Socrates: So were these opinions inside of him, or not? Meno: Yes. Socrates: So a man who does not know has within himself true seemings [opinions] about the things that he does not know?" Meno: It appears so. Socrates: And now these opinions have been put back into motion within him, like a dream. And if someone were to ask him many such things and often, you know that finally he will know about these things as accurately as anyone. [85:b8-dl]* The true opinions that exist in the slave-boy’s soul are the basis of his newly recollected knowledge. They are also evidence of the previous existence of knowledge in his soul. The opinions which existed before Socrates' questioning show that he had knowledge already. The opinions that are the content of his conclusions are part of knowledge, rather than merely a sort of pre-knowledge. The attainment of knowledge requires true opinion as condition, while the process of attaining knowledge produces more true opinions, weeding out false ones. Socrates says that the slave-boy has "had and learned” these opinions or seemings "at some other time.'’2o Knowledge and true opinion do not seem to be separate within the "time” of the extra-human life of the soul. Socrates wants to show that the soul has previously known all things, before being darkened by the ignorance that somehow dogs human intellectual vision. He has no problem calling the things that are 8 �attained independently of this state of affairs "opinions" or "seemings." The strict distinction between knowledge and true seeming that obtains at the dialogue’s end has no bearing in the realm of extra-human learning; for, that kind of learning, which precedes and enables human learning, involves no processes of recollection, nor perhaps any "tying-down" through causal reasoning. If the process of recollection which we call learning is a progress from one true opinion to more true opinions, destroying false ones as we go, and if this process is evidence of the pre-subsistence of knowledge within the soul, then the otherworldly attainment of the knowledge (or seeming) that is the basis and precondition of learning within human life cannot be another process of recollection, nor can it be a transfer of information from the knowledgeable to the ignorant. In that case, Socrates’ account would result in an infinite regress. The learning that took place during "the time when he was not a human being”2i must rather have been a sort of “beholding all things, both here and in Hades.’’22 It is called "learning" not in the sense of recollection, but in the sense of direct experience of the things that now need to be recollected. Synergic Learning and the Theory of Recollection We have already pointed out that Socrates believes more firmly in that which the recollection account intends to demonstrate than he believes in the literal truth of the account.23 The conclusion that knowledge is possible precisely because it is somehow hidden in the immortal soul is one of only two absolute convictions which Socrates espouses in the Meno. The other is the difference between knowledge and right opinion. Given the hypothetical and illustrative value of the recollection account, it will not be surprising if we note that Socrates is not strictly faithful to Pindar as a mystagogue or religious authority. A Pindarian fundamentalist he is not. The poetic-mythological quotation from Pindar, while it provides a starting point for Socrates’ reflections, is not taken seriously as an account of the goings-on in the underworld. The poem says only that some souls are allowed to return in the ninth year, and that these become great men, but Socrates infers that all souls are in fact travelling all over the place all the time, that all are continuously reborn, giving them plenty of time to learn everything and forget it again. This means also that all souls are capable of gaining knowledge (and, perhaps, greatness). Beginning with a pious belief in a religious myth, Socrates proceeds to a generalized belief about the soul and its potential for knowledge, and finally to the categorical assertion that, "the truth about 9 �things that are is always in our soul, so that the soul should be immortal, so that we should always boldly take up the task of seeking calling to mind again what we do not happen to know at the moment, that is what we do not remember.”24 Then he declares that we should cleave to the notion of the possibility of knowledge for its morally edifying effects, even if his argument for it is not entirely correct. Ultimately, the notion of transmigration of souls is no more essential or defining to his final conclusion about the soul’s immortality than the poem is to his statements about the rebirth of all souls. The important thing is not that souls fly around learning things in order to recollect them during various lifetimes, but that the presence in the soul of true opinions and the ability to reason about them is logically inseparable from the conviction that the soul is immortal and is connected to a world that transcends and (at least logically] pre-exists the state of ignorance in which the soul now finds itself. In fact, if we were to press the notion of recollection "from another time" as if Socrates meant the soul had learned everything simply by being around for so long, we would find that we must indeed mean something more fundamental than this. If, instead of saying that the potential for knowledge about geometry inheres in the slave-boy’s soul because of its connection to an immortal world, we say that he knows it simply because he learned it in a previous life, then a soul that has not had a geometry lesson either in Hades or in some earthly location will not be able to "recollect" the Pythagorean theorem. Only those who have been good shoemakers previously will become good ones now, etc. But the immortality of the soul that is indicated by its potential for recollection is more than its existence throughout an indefinite expanse of time. The slave-boy learned geometry "when he was not a human being," that is, during a time when his experience of his own nature was not subject to death or ignorance. The "truth about beings" did not come to the soul at a certain previous point, but is always [ad] in the soul. This seems indeed to mean that it was never absent from the soul but belongs to it simply according to its immortality, as a participant in a meaningful, ordered, and beautiful cosmos. It is the potential of the soul to proceed further and further into a truth that is inherent in it, the recognition of which is inseparable from the fact of the soul’s immortality. The right opinions of the slave-boy "subsist inside" [ssmv') him, regardless of his state of ignorance or forgetfulness. If we are right about this, then it is also the case that the knowledge (or right opinion) which the slave-boy latently possesses has never been given to him from without, at least not by another "human 10 �being," at least not while he was a human being. The potential for knowledge is evidence of a divine aspect of the soul, or of the soul’s divine origin. When Socrates says that he would not maintain that his argument is correct in all respects, he may even mean that all of it can go (even the reincarnation and the extra-human "time"], so long as we maintain that the clear notions we find in our souls, even while we are unable to "tie them down" by causal reasoning, are evidence of an immortal aspect to the soul that must be believed in and cultivated. All souls, even the souls of slave-boys, can participate in this process of discovery, of recollecting, what rightly pertains to them. Knowledge, that which clarifies and establishes right seeming, is the soul’s attainment of what properly belongs to it by nature, regardless of how far it may have strayed from participation in its own immortality. The soul that recognizes its ignorance and begins to know does not become what it was not, but what it always was. "If, then, the truth about the things that are is always with us in our soul, the soul would then be immortal... .’’^s This conclusion, which Socrates believes can make us "better, braver, and less idle," 26 is the only thing essential to the recollection argument. The soul that recollects is recollecting not only knowledge, but also its proper nature as an immortal being. The process of recollection and the tying-down by causal reasoning that it entails, are themselves means of re-obtaining the simplicity of vision that belongs to the knowing soul according to its immortality. Teaching If knowledge inheres in and belongs to the immortal soul in spite of any ignorance it might now be experiencing, then it must belong in the same way to every soul, regardless of each soul’s present level of recollection or even its personal aptitude for the process. The true opinions that are in a soul but have not yet been "put back in motion" are in every soul, even if they are not active, and they can all be recollected and made active. Thus, Socrates takes pains first of all to employ a slaveboy for his demonstration, and secondly to point out that if the slave-boy keeps being asked questions he will know geometry as well as anyone. This means that knowledge does not properly belong to anyone in an exclusive sense, even if one happens to have a piece of it now while another does not. Knowledge is not something like a possession which one man can give to another. Everyone somehow has it, even the ignorant, and the teacher must not presume himself to be giving 11 �something to the student. He is only showing him what he already possesses. Thus Socrates insists that he is not "teaching" the slave-boy, since for Socrates "teaching" means the transfer of an opinion, the giving of a piece of information that was not previously present in the learner. This meaning for SiSaaKcdia is kept quite consistently by Socrates, which makes it a ^^ bit suspicious when he conflates "teachable" and recollectable during his concession to Meno. If we want to call what Socrates does with the slave-boy "didactic," we must concede that we mean something different by the word than Socrates does here. The act of the learner and his questioner is a cooperative one, a single act of elucidation in which both participate, and which assumes a common divinely oriented nature. While we might object that Socrates asks the slave-boy "leading questions," and therefore does in fact give him information, Socrates would not consider this a point against his conviction about learning. Since the slave-boy is able to answer every query according to his own understanding, according to whatever true and indubitable seemings are present to him in his soul, Socrates sees the new information as coming as much from the slave-boy as from himself. And, more importantly, from the immortal nature of the soul, as well as from nature as a whole, which is "all akin." The questioner and the learner share a single nature, one that somehow contains within it the truth about the things that are" at all times, even when it is not aware of this truth and cannot explain it. Moreover, if the slave-boy were to accept the hidden information suggested by Socrates without relating it to the notions already clear to him, he would be neither knowing nor recollecting it, but only opining it (and that in a way inferior to what he already opined according to the true opinions that his soul has retained on its own]. Such opinions, according to the later account of knowledge and true opinion, would not stay long in the slave-boy’s soul. According to Socrates account of the soul, real learning, which does not come from "teaching," can only be a synergic process. Any notion of teaching as the mere transfer of information violates the basis for belief in the possibility of knowledge, namely, that it is inherent in the soul, even while we are ignorant. Learning can be the self-elucidation of a single soul or a co-operation between two souls sharing a single natural condition and goal. But it can never be a transaction after the manner of a sale, one man giving to another what he did not already possess, that which Socrates calls "teaching." It is under terms of sale, transfer, and acquisition that Socrates persistently speaks of both teaching’ and learning after his concession to Meno. 12 �In his interactions with Meno, Socrates emphasizes the synergic nature of the search for knowledge, contrasting it with eristic, unfriendly and divisive attitudes towards philosophic inquiry: [I]f the one asking me were one of the wise, eristic and competitive, then I would say to him "I have answered. And if I don't speak rightly, then you must take up the argument and refute me." But if some friends, like you and I are now, should want to have a discussion with one another, then they must answer more meekly [npaoxepovy’ and dialectically. (75:c8-d2)* Where "teaching" means the transfer of information or knowledge [as a sort of commodity or possession) between men, both virtue and knowledge are entirely un-teachable. "Knowledge" in this case is something one has, wields, and might even sell. But, on the other hand, if knowledge is something mysteriously inherent in the soul, which the soul somehow has within itself without having yet comprehended it, then we might hope that the same is true of virtue. This would not make virtue any less a divine gift, since knowledge [absent of its dependence on a transactional account of teaching) is also something of a gift to the soul. The first attainment of knowledge somehow preceded the soul's human experience. The pre-existence of knowledge is the possibility of knowledge. A man who sees knowledge [or virtue) along the lines of a possession to be attained cannot be helped except by beginning to think of it as unattainable by human means. These efforts are, after all, based on a state of need and self-defensiveness that cannot allow one to make the declaration of ignorance, to submit to the "numbedness" that is the beginning of real knowledge. The same constraints of acquisition [or, rather, participation) apply to both virtue and knowledge. One can neither have it nor teach it for oneself, but only for all, and only as a matter of participation in a nature common to all men, a nature that is both prior to and perfecting of the common human experience, benighted as it finds itself by the mixture of true and false impressions and seemings. * indicates author's own translation. 13 �Endnotes 1. Viz. 98:27-10 2. 99:e6-100:a2 3. Plato thus places Socrates (and, at least potentially, Meno) in the running for virtue-teacher and statesmen-maker, even as Socrates declares that no such teacher exists. 4. (heavy sigh] 5. 99:e2* 6. 100:b2* 7. 86;c4 8. Ibid. 9. 86:d6 10. 86:d2 11. 87;b9-c3 12. Viz. 83:d2 13. 99:e2 14. 100:b2* 15. 87:c2 16. 89:a3 17. 98:a8 18. 98;b2-5 19. 99:e9 20. Viz. 85:e7 and 86:al 21. 86:a3* 22. 81:c6* 23. Viz.86:b5 24. 86;bl-4 25. 86:bl 26. 86:b8 27. Unlike Anytus, who lacks npgidzriTog. Primary Text Plato. Meno. Trans. G.M.A Grube. Indianapolis: Hackett, 2002. 14 �Reductionist Language, Expansionist Soma Jeffrey Ondocsin An oral tradition, disseminated by clans of priests, The Rig Veda is a text that relies on the efficacy of the spoken word for the success of any ritual action. Passed down orally from guru to student for centuries, it is highly likely that hymns propagated by myriad and diverse families of the priestly class were compiled and reorganized into their present orientation. This has allowed for a bevy of contradictions to spring up in the text, lending it an air of richness and mystery that has fueled enduring interest. In a tradition defined by oral retention and the sacred nature of speech uttered during sacrificial rites, it comes as no surprise that there are numerous iterations of the power of speech, even going so far as to deify it. Speech, or more simply, language, is seen as an empowering, creative force that provides a framework of meaning for the Vedic world. Out of this framework come the various depictions of the creation of the universe, the genesis of the gods, and their effect on the world, as well as the role of the priestly class in undertaking sacrifices on behalf of their community. To a large extent, it would seem that the nature of language is to define, to delineate and to create the world as it is experienced and understood by humans. However, some of the hymns, particularly those that expound upon the ritualized consumption of soma, seem to contradict other ideas of speech as seminal in the creation of the experienced world. In these rituals the user moves beyond the conventions of language and society, and experiences the world directly without the reducing valve of speech ingrained by society. Hymn 10.125 is a logical jumping off point for exploring the idea of speech as the architect of the experienced world. Consider verse seven, for example. Verse seven reads, "I gave birth to the father on the head of this world. My womb is in the waters, within the ocean. From there I spread out over all creatures and touch the very sky with the crown of my head.”i Verse eight continues, "I am the one who blows like the wind, embracing all creatures. Beyond the sky, beyond this earth, so much have I become in my greatness.”^ All that exists in the world of humans must be defined by speech in order for it to be known. Even those things that exist beyond the experienced world come to be understood by language. This is the very cornerstone of how Vedic humans understood and interacted with their world. Language, both as it is utilized in ritual as well as in the experiences of daily life, has a tremendous impact on the 15 �ways that people can understand the world around them. Indeed, as verse four states, the one who eats food, who truly sees, who breathes, who hears what is said, does so through me . . . Listen, you whom they have heard: what I tell you should be heeded."^ Experience cannot be talked about, let alone experience, without the focus and commonality provided by the power of language to delineate its boundaries. If I were to i^ake the argument that my word for "sun" is different from your word for "sun," then it would be possible that through our different notions of what a "sun" is, we would have a different experience of the fundamental nature of reality. However, our different experience of what we call "sun" is shattered by this notion of a commonly held and expressed image of sun. The attempts of the individual to assert himself in a way that differs that differs from the norm established by society are broken once people can come to talk about an idea in shared terms. This is the nature of speech, it would seem, in the Rig Veda. Speech is granted the power of creation by virtue of the power that naming a thing has over given conceptions of that thing. Thus, one could argue that speech functions as a reducing valve for the burgeoning realm of existence, delineating the boundaries of things through the power of naming. But speech was created by the sages and disseminated among the people simultaneously. Hymn 10.71 develops this seemingly contradictory idea of speech as both created and creating. In the first verse the poet states, "when they set in motion the first beginning of speech, giving names, their most pure and perfectly guarded secret was revealed through love."^ It can be understood from this verse that when the sages gave names in the beginning, they were residing in a position of superior understanding about the nature of things and through naming were able to extend their knowledge throughout society. Their love for their fellow humans manifested itself in the creation of commonly held notions for the experienced world, allowing people to share together in this world through the power of ritual language. This is further expressed in the second verse, where the poet says, "when the wise ones fashioned speech with their thought, sifting it as grain is sifted through a sieve, then friends recognized their friendships. A good sign was placed on their speech."5 Here, the image of grain sifted through a sieve is particularly demonstrative of the assertion that the power of speech lies in its limiting function. Language has power through its ability to define the boundaries around difficult concepts in a sense "creating" them. The wise ones were aware of this power and were consequently careful in their use of language to describe the experienced world. This can perhaps explain the seeming inability of characters in the Mahabharata to take back their own 16 �speech and vows, even when appropriating that speech would negatively impact their lives. However, despite the power accorded to language, it is in the soma ritual in particular that the practitioner moves past the realm of what can be understood and described by language. Despite the use of speech by humans, there exists much in the world that cannot be effectively described through language— things so ineffable that they defy the categorization and certainty that language seeks to impose on them. Hence, verse seven of hymn 10.129: "[WJhence this creation has arisen— perhaps it formed itself, or perhaps it did not— the one who looks down on it, in the highest heaven, only he knows— or perhaps he does not know.'’^ But as can be seen from many of the soma hymns, consumption of this substance results in the user denying, or perhaps defying, the power of language to delimit ideas. The poet of hymn 8.48 starts out by saying, "I have tasted the sweet drink of life, knowing that it inspires good thoughts and joyous expansiveness to the extreme,”^ qualities that the reducing valve of speech does not seem to possess. Soma allows the individual an opportunity to break through the limitations of speech and experience "joyous expansiveness to the extreme," a state perhaps encountered in no other way. Further on the poet says, "when you penetrate inside, you will know no limits . . . We have drunk the Soma; we have become immortal; we have gone to the light; we have found the gods."^ Soma allows for an experience of that which is ineffable, that which language fails to describe or, by its very nature, is incapable of expressing. Soma seems to be something akin to a wilderness state, easily as capable of delivering a transcendent experience for individuals as of leaving them in a terrifying domain where the foundation of all their civilized knowledge and experience is meaningless. The soma experience is in its nature complimentary to an understanding of the universe solely through the medium of speech and could be considered a perfect antithesis to the structured, logical nature provided by a linguistically organized understanding of the world. Both the ritual power accorded to speech and the transcendent power of the soma experience, if considered complementary in a Vedic religious experience, play roles in the creation of the experienced world of the Vedic individual. Boundaries of expression are necessary, or else the individual would never be able to relate to or understand the others around him. Equally as requisite as language for society, however, is the experience that allows the individual to recreate his world unconstrained by speech. Without soma, or some other transcendent experience, the individual cannot help but be ruled by the linguistic and other conventions of his time. Again, however, one must consider the 17 �importance of speech as a creation. Hymn 10.136 advances the notion that speech is created through transcendent experience. "Long-hair holds fire, holds the drug, holds sky and earth. Long-hair reveals everything, so that everyone can see the sun. Long-hair declares the light."® The figure of Long-hair" possesses an understanding of all that is present in the experienced world and through the medium of the transcendent drug experience He "creates" the world around him. Long-hair knows the reality of the experienced world, but must turn to the power of speech to disseminate the understanding he has of his universe. Speech could then be said to emerge from the understanding of the experienced world gained through a transcendent drug experience. Indeed, the poet says Long-hair declares the light" [emphasis added], thus stating that just as Long-Hairs experiential knowledge of light is a necessary requirement hcuZ of speech While at first glance the transcendent properties of the soma experience seem to be independent of structured speech, I believe that the two are fundamentally linked. They are fundamentally linked through the equal desire of the individual to use both methods of experiencing the world to create understanding among humans. It is an experience that allows the individual to transcend the normal reality he inhabits and return with new insight, enriching the fabric of his society. The boundaries of language can then be extended to encompass the new experience and insight, granting speech the power of new ideas and preventing its stagnation. Speech determines what individuals can understand about their world, but soma imbues speech with new life, ensuring that new and dynamic understanding is continually disseminated throughout society. Endnotes 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. Doniger, trans. pp. 63 Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., 61 Ibid. Ibid., 25-26 Ibid.,134 Ibid. Ibid.,137 18 �Primary Text Doniger, Wendy. Trans. The Rig Veda. London: Penguin Books, �Because It Feels Wrong: Hume's Account of Moral Judgment Joshua Falconer Is it possible to distinguish between moral good and evil through reason alone, or must there be some other principle necessary to make this distinction? In support of the latter possibility, David Hume argues that since vice and virtue are not discoverable merely by reason, or the comparison of ideas, it must be by means of some impression or sentiment they occasion, that we are able to mark the difference betwixt them."i From the other side of the debate, Thomas Reid contends, "In the approbation of a good action, therefore, there is feeling indeed, but there is also esteem of the agent; and both the feeling and the esteem depend upon the judgment we form of his conduct."2 This paper will set out the significance and meaning of Hume's claim, followed by a careful interpretation of the dialectic. I will then frame Reid’s objections, respond on Hume’s behalf, and in the end argue that although Reid's criticisms ultimately fail to sink Hume’s argument, they posit a starting point for further criticism. Hume s ethical system springs from the nomenclature and method of the British empiricist tradition. As Bertrand Russell notes, "he developed to its logical conclusion the empirical philosophy of Locke and Berkeley, and by making it self-consistent made it incredible."3 As Reid observes,^ the epistemological claims of Descartes and Locke led to the belief that secondary qualities of a body, such as heat or color or taste, are mere impressions of the mind, not in the object itself. Berkeley further applied this notion to primary qualities as well, such as extension and motion. The epistemological claims were carried over to notions of taste, then beauty, and then naturally to morality. This debate over whether moral judgment derives from reason or sentiment was unprecedented, as both Hume and Reid observe.^ What is at stake here? According to Reid, the following consequence issues from Hume’s theory: If what we call moral judgment be no real judgment, but merely a feeling, it follows, that the principle of morals which we have been taught to consider an immutable law for all intelligent beings, have no other foundation but an arbitrary structure and fabric in the constitution of the human mind. Thus by a change in our structure, what is immoral might become moral, virtue might be turned into vice, and vice into virtue.^ If Hume is correct in his claim that no moral judgment can result without an antecedent impression, then the common way of referring to morally good or evil actions as reasonable or 20 �unreasonable is an illusion. This notion is contrary to the ordinary sense of morality in all tongues and at all times, as Reid might put it. What are moral judgments according to Hume? To call any action or character praiseworthy or blameworthy, virtuous or vicious, good or bad— these are all examples of pronouncing moral approbation or disapprobation, respectively. When we attribute any such judgment to an action or character, do we mean to say that they are matters of fact existing in the object itself— a real relation that exists with respect to the objects in consideration? If so, then they may be properly be called objects of reason or of the ideas. Otherwise, they are called objects of impression or sentiment. This distinction between ideas and impressions involves the two kinds of perceptions of the mind. From this basic distinction, Hume draws the conclusion that it is not by means of our ideas, but rather of our impressions, that we form moral approbation or disapprobation. Hume's theory of moral judgment posits the following interpretations of forming moral judgment: (i) the non-propositional interpretation, (ii) the personal point of view, and [mj the common point of view. By interpreting these three methods of forming moral judgment, I intend to inform a critical discussion thereof. The non-propositional interpretation: Hume is well known for the claim that it is impossible to derive "ought" statements from "is” statements. This means that moral judgments cannot be derived from non-moral facts. In vain would one attempt to deduce a "right” or "wrong” from the propositional facts tied to any event that would elicit moral judgment. If one were to steal a painting from a museum, for instance, one may list as many true or false propositions about the event, such as the circumstances of the thief, what his motives were, or how he did it, as one liked, but such facts in themselves would never obtain something called a "vice.” "The vice entirely escapes you, as long as you consider the object,” says Hume. "You never can find it, till you turn your reflection into your own breast, and find a sentiment of disapprobation, which arises in you, towards this action.”^ That is, the action itself may cause or provoke certain feelings in oneself which vary according to force. We sense these feelings in a way that is analogous to the other senses. Impressions of the visual field are effected by the sense of sight, just as impressions of morality are effected by the moral sense, or the conscience. To call something "beautiful” is merely to say that it is pleasing to the eye; likewise to call an action virtuous is merely to say that it is agreeable to the moral sense, according to Hume. The personal point of view: It may be a true proposition to say, "I (I) (II] 21 �feel disapproval about the theft." But Hume thinks that to call the statement, The thief should not have stolen," a true or false proposition is to use words in a vulgar way. For the statement suggests that the subject "the thief’ has the real property that he "should not have stolen." But how could the thief have such a property in a true and meaningful way? When you really break down this sort of moral judgment, Hume argues, all you really mean is that you are expressing your own feeling of disapproval that the action: "So that when you pronounce any action or character to be vicious, you mean nothing, but that from the constitution of your nature you have a feeling or sentiment of blame from the contemplation of it."8 In order to more thoroughly understand Hume’s concept of moral judgment, we must also grasp his sense of moral motivation, for what we know about morality is directly informed by the moral sense, and the feelings of the moral sense involve moral motivation. Hume thinks that reason is incapable of either motivating action or of opposing the passions. The role of reason, then, is merely to inform us as to the best way to achieve the ends our passions set for us. One way it accomplishes this is by associating causes and effects. If a past action has caused us pain, then the memory of that pain informs our passion such that we are motivated not to repeat the same action. This is an example of how feelings of the moral sense accompany moral motivation. These feelings of unease or disapproval are that which we refer to when we pronounce moral disapprobation. Likewise, those objects we associate with pleasure will produce in us a judgment of moral approbation. In this sense Hume follows the Hobbesian notion of forming judgments from self-interest alone, but as will be discussed later, his system includes a concept unaccounted for in Hobbes’ theory. (Ill) The common point of view. In certain cases, there is a way to acquire a better judgment of a given action than would be possible if restricted to the first-person perspective. By means of a hypothetical outside point of view, we may imagine how one would react if she were immediately affected by a given action or character. This is especially useful when personal bias gets in the way of forming a clear judgment. For instance, Harriet sees that Rodney has just helped an old woman cross the street. Harriet holds a grudge against Rodney, so that she views this action with bitter disapproval— "What is he trying to prove?" But suppose Harriet, for whatever reason, wishes to form a better judgment. She cannot do this herself, so she must imagine how an observer untainted by her paradigm would react to the event. In this way, she may attain a theoretical knowledge even as her feelings may run counter to it. 22 �This is what Hume meant when he said, "The good qualities of an enemy are hurtful to us; but may still command our esteem and respect. ‘Tis only when a character is considered in general, without reference to our particular interest, that it causes such a feeling or sentiment, as denominates it morally good or evil.’’^ To restate, Hume thinks that moral judgments (0 refer to matters of fact, not about the characters or actions in consideration, but rather about the sentiment of the one pronouncing the moral judgment; [ii] are produced merely by feelings that accompany the moral sense with reference to self-interest; and (m] in some cases require an outside hypothetical perspective for a clearer judgment. Having interpreted these three methods of forming moral judgment, let us now consider some of Thomas Reid's criticisms, which apply directly to (i] and (ii), and indirectly to (m]. To frame the objections, recall the claim in question: "When you pronounce any action or character to be vicious, you mean nothing, but that from the constitution of your nature you have a feeling or sentiment of blame from the contemplation of it."i“ Reid agrees that a feeling of blame accompanies one’s moral judgment of an action or character. But this feeling is entirely dependent upon one's judgment that the character in consideration acted contrary to reason. There is here an unreduced notion of "real” judgment that is both ontologically and logically prior to the notion of feeling. Therefore, it is not the case that all claims of moral judgment mean nothing, but that one has a sentiment of approval or disapproval from the contemplation of it. To clarify this point, Reid posits two propositions referring to a case known by both the speaker and the listener:^ (a] "Such a man did well and worthily, his conduct is highly approvable.” (b] "The man’s conduct gave me a very agreeable feeling.” Reid interprets Hume’s claim above to infer that (a) does not contain any property that is not contained in (b). Reid denies this for two reasons:i2 (1) "The first expresses plainly an opinion or judgment of the conduct of the man, but says nothing of the speaker. The second only testifies a fact concerning the speaker, to wit, that he had such a feeling." (2) "... the first may be contradicted without any ground of offence. 23 �such contradiction being only a difference of opinion, which, to a reasonable man, gives no offence. But the second speech cannot be contradicted without an affront; for, as every man must know his own feelings, to deny that a man had a feeling which he affirms he had, IS to charge him with a falsehood." Reid summarizes his objection as follows: "This doctrine, therefore at moral approbation is merely a feeling without judgment, necessarily carries along with it this consequence, that a form of speech, upon one of the most common topics of discourse, which either has no meaning or a meaning irreconcilable to all rules of grammar or rhetoric, is found to be common and familiar in all languages and in all ages of the world while How would Hume respond to such criticism? Would he think that Reid gave a correct interpretation of his theory? If that were granted would the objection sink his argument? Perhaps the argument could be saved given that Hume never claimed to commit to ordinary usage He was committed rather to the abstruse, philosophical, or precL meaning of terms in order to codify a nomenclature unclouded by the vagaries of common usage. senes ui Otherwise, Reid's interpretation approximates the effect that "moral approbation is merely a feeling without judgment."i4 That said, is there a real difference between (a] and (b) about which Hume is silent? Let us consider (IJ and (2J, beginning with the latter. Is (2) true? Not obviously. It does not take much reflection to realize how easy it is to obtain examples m which a judgment statement (a] may have more or less grounds of offense as a feeling statement (b). So let us reject (2]. Is [11 bullet ordinary usage problem. Hume could bite the bullet and affirm that his abstruse use of terms does go against the common sense usage, and thereby represents a completely original yet accurate means of describing human psychology There is a stronger sense to (1) that Reid himself does not developf excellent starting point for further criticism. It is R.fh 7^ the conduct of the man in terms of virtue Rather than reducing moral adjudication to terms of sense, why not consider it m terms of excellence? We know, as a matter of fact, who is the fastest man in the world, given that "the fastest man in the world" refers to the one who currently holds the world record for the 100-meter sprint namely, Jamaica's Usain Bolt. In like manner, why can we not say who is onest, given that "an honest person" is one who habitually acts in ways 24 �that are honest and trustworthy? The same might be said for the other virtues and vices. Moral judgment then becomes a useful measurement of human conduct given certain parameters. Of course, Hume takes a similar notion of virtues into account, but it remains to be seen whether Hume considered virtuous qualities to be properties that truly belong to the person in question. In this sense, then, could not moral judgment be a way of describing a true or false proposition regarding another person’s virtue or vice? To push the analogy, when we say that the thief acted wrongly, we could take this to mean that the thief acted poorly in terms of a certain kind of social performance. If we follow this line of thinking, however, the question becomes "What kind of social performance?” One could steal or kill very effectively. If the objection holds, then there must be another, deeper source for substantiating the content of moral judgment, if indeed such a thing exists. Endnotes 1. Hume, David. A Treatise of Human Nature. Reprinted in Raphael, D.D., ed., British Moralists: 1650-1800. London: Oxford University Press: 1969. pp. 505. 2. Reid, Thomas. Essays on the Active Power of Man. Reprinted in Raphael, D.D. ed., British Moralists: 1650- 1800. London: Oxford University Press: 1969. pp.917. 3. Russell, Bertrand. The History of Philosophy. New York: Simon & Shuster, 1972. pp. 659. 4. Reid, 908 5. Hume, 907; Reid, 907 6. Reid, 944 7. Hume, 503 8. Ibid. 9. Ibid. 10. Ibid. 11. Reid, 919 12. Ibid., 920 13. Ibid., 924 14. Ibid. Primary Texts Hume, David. A Treatise of Human Nature, Reprinted in Raphael. Raphael, D. D., ed., British Moralists: 1650-1800. London: Oxford University Press, 1969. 25 �Reid, Thomas. Essays on the Active Power of Man, Reprinted in Raphael 26 �Surrender to Poetry: The Unsolved Duel Between Idea and Experience Bethany McGee Throughout Goethe’s Botanical Writings, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe struggles to understand the seemingly irreconcilable divide betv^een experience and idea. He attempts to delineate both realms against common notions and in relation to the Kantian philosophical tradition of transcendent concepts. Scientific endeavor strives to unite the two, but the effort is continually frustrated. In his essay "Indecision and Surrender,’’! Goethe claims that in order to navigate this division, "we justifiably take flight into poetry" and then proceeds to close the piece with a short poem. How are we to understand this particular poem as a reply to the essay and the "surrender" to poetry as a "justifiable" response to "indecision” in general? A "definite chasm appears to be fixed," claims Goethe, "between idea and experience." The nature of this division is illuminated by understanding the necessary limitations of human experience. We are bound to face episodic sensory impressions of our surroundings, determined not only by the passage of time but also by our state-of-mind and subjective standpoint. Through experience we come to understand individual parts of our world, yet these flashes of comprehension remain isolated and it is left to the imagination to connect them in a meaningful manner. "An idea," on the other hand, "is independent of time and place.” It is with his notion of ideas that Goethe feels he is misunderstood by his contemporaries, and especially by Schiller. He is taken aback when Schiller claims that the theory of The Metamorphosis of Plants^ "is not an empiric experience, it is an idea." "How could any experience," Schiller continues ("in the manner of a trained Kantian’’], "ever be gauged by an idea, for the characteristic thing about an idea is that it can never be congruous with an experience." The issue seems to be that Goethe firmly believes his ideas are rooted in years of collecting empiric observations, rather than transcendent a priori concepts. The "[bond sealed] through the great duel between the objective and the subjective’’^ with Schiller, however, seems to have affected Goethe’s conception of ideas. He concedes that "the philosopher [presumably Kant] might probably be right who asserts that no idea can completely coincide with experience." 27 �Goethe's understanding of the term "idea," and its relationship to the Kantian conception, remains somewhat obscure. It is clear that the “idea" must provide a means through which man can grasp at comprehending the whole. "In an idea,” he explains, "the simultaneous and the successive are intimately bound up together, whereas in an experience they are always separated." Here we see the importance of ideas and the indispensable role they must play not only in scientific pursuits, but in day-to-day existence. Without ideas to organize and make sense of the multitude of perceptions we receive at every moment, life would be chaotic. We need ideas to connect isolated events, understand causes, make predictions and even to fuse snapshots in time into associations of continuous being. In plant studies, for example, we take careful observation of a flower. Each day it changes slightly, eventually passing from seed to stem with leaves and bloom, then ultimately to producing fruit and again seed. We need ideas not only to understand the nature of this change, but also in order even to conceive of it as the same plant from one day to the next. Yet, while both "idea” and "experience" are required for scientific research, "the difficulty of uniting [them] appears to be a great obstacle." The two realms, though they at first glance appear entirely distinct, must in fact relate to each other in some meaningful way if their interplay is to be man’s means to knowledge. "We strive eternally to overcome this hiatus," Goethe explains, "with reason, intellect, imagination, faith, emotion, illusion, or— if we are capable of nothing better— with folly." However, our efforts to bridge the chasm are forever in vain." We cannot grasp the whole of a single organism, let alone the expanse of the universe when our sole access to the world is through our sensory perception. The effort to conceive of Nature as "both simultaneous and successive . . . seems to drive us to the verge of insanity." How is mortal man to comprehend eternity and existence outside of time? How can a thing always be, yet continually come into being? We are doomed to frustration, for "the intellect cannot picture united what the senses present to it separately, and thus the duel between the perceived and the ideated remains forever unsolved." "For this reason," Goethe responds, "we justifiably take flight into poetry. Poetry must stand outside both idea and experience, occupying a distinct space. It is either the bridge man seeks between experience and idea, or it is a resignation to the paradox. It would be odd if poetry were this bridge, inhabiting as it were a sort of middle ground between two disparate modes of being. It would have to partake of both worlds and yet belong to neither. Though arguably, poetry is about experience and 28 �expressive of an idea, it does not serve to reconcile the two any more than science does. If scientific study cannot bridge idea and experience, neither can we expect poetry to do so. So are we to view the "flight into poetry" simply as surrender, and thus concede defeat in the face of the incommensurability of the two domains? Or, by acknowledging our limitations and abandoning ourselves to the mystery of the paradox, do we gain something more profound? If poetry is distinct from both experience and idea, does it provide a unique vantage point allowing a new way of seeing— both with the physical and the mind's eye? Goethe provides a key to the quandary within the essay: "that idea and experience are analogous, indeed must be so." What is the nature of this analogy and how might understanding the relationship as "analogous hope" help solve the eternal duel? To claim simply that one is like the other does little to clarify the conundrum. To term a relationship "analogous," implies that the two subjects under comparison must bear a relationship to one another and that the juxtaposition of one to the other should significantly illuminate each. Goethe has provided his reader with an example of such an analogy in his essay — he has given us a poem. Does this poem seek to express the analogous relationship, or are the lines of the poem themselves analogous to the ideas in the essay they follow? Is the understanding available through the analogy of this poem unique, or is it ultimately the aim of all poetry to reconcile this seemingly eternal divide? Goethe closes "Indecision and Surrender" with a poem, "Antepirrhema," calling it "a new form to an old song."^ We turn now to the "Antepirrhema" in the hope that a deeper comprehension of its meaning will lead to a greater mastery of Goethe’s thought and a fuller understanding of the nature of the analogous relation between idea and experience. Thus view with unassuming eyes Regard with silent wonder The Weaver Woman’s masterpiece: The Eternal Weaver’s masterpiece. One pedal shifts a thousand strands. A single movement sends the shuttle The shuttles back and forward flying. Over, under, till the myriad threads Each fluent strand with each complying. Meet and interlace, creating One stroke a thousand links commands; Countless unions at one stroke! No patchwork, this, of rag and tatter. The warp, not mounted thread by thread. Since time began She plots the matter. But laid down in the timeless past So may the Master, very deft. Awaits the casting of the weft. Insert with confidence the weft. Forever waits the Master’s will. -C. Middleton, trans. -English rendering by Aldyth Morris 29 �The poem, like its namesake, demands to be read as a response to what has preceded it. Here, we should expect the author to provide his audience with an answer to the "[unsolved] duel between the perceived and the ideated." Perhaps in understanding how "Antepirrhema" illuminates, complicates, or resolves the questions put forward by the essay, the reader can hope to glimpse the larger sense of how poetry can answer to the mysteries in the chasm between idea and experience. The central conceit of the poem is the Weaver's creation of her masterpiece, yet the symbolic meaning is enigmatic. What do these two focal images intend to represent? "In observing the cosmic structure from its broadest expanse down to its minutest parts," Goethe opens his essay, "we cannot escape the impression that underlying the whole is the idea that God is operative in Nature and Nature in God, from eternity to eternity." Upon first look, it would seem that the Weaver is meant to be God and the masterpiece. Nature itself. Yet, the claim is not simply that "God is operative in Nature," but that there exists a reciprocal relationship in which Nature is operative in God. In the poetic metaphor, it is conceivable that both the Weaver and the masterpiece each represent an eternity. Here, the Weaver clearly has an effect on her masterpiece, but how can we understand the masterpiece equally affecting its maker? Can an artist be so moved by his own work that we can say it is operating upon him? Though a piece of art can be inspirational to all those who view it, it seems that Goethe wants to apply more agency to Nature than that of an incidental influence on its maker. Perhaps we do disservice to the metaphor by falling back again into a cultural understanding of God as creator, as God as Weaver. Goethe seems to think it is more complex. The masterpiece is all of existence. It is "the cosmic structure from its broadest expanse down to its minutest parts." It is "the whole." Here, the metaphor of the woven work reinforces the notion that all things are connected. Cut one of the "myriad threads," and it would unravel. In the Weaver's work, the strands "meet and interlace, creating / Countless unions." This is the intricate majesty of the interconnectedness of life. Each intersection of the strands is an individual, a part we can come to know by experience. Yet these "interlacings” are meaningless and non-existent without the whole. These parts, while enabled, organized, and given significance by the whole, are necessary for the very existence of it. The analogy here lives up to the demand of making comprehensible what formally was obscure— the 30 �necessity of the reciprocal nature of the relationship of the whole to its We cannot let ourselves be deceived by the simple lucidity of this analogy of the whole to the part. The woven masterpiece of the poem is Tke none we have experienced. For '.he warp" was not "mounted thread by thread" after the manner of man, "but laid down in the timeless past. In two lines, Goethe has communicated man’s maddening predicament m tr^^ng to imagine "an operation of Nature as both simultaneous and successive." For experience tells us that a warp must be set one thread at a t L, but Goethe’? warp has been laid down all at once. Moreover it ha always been as it is now, as it was created in "the timeless past The atter^pt to conceive of a thing as having always been capable of undergoing change, "drive [s] us to the verge of insanity. ^ Not only is it impossible for the human mind to grasp the creation of a warp as both simultaneous and successive, but also now the poet asks us to grapple with eternity and the existence of a timeless past If there were existence before time, how can it make sense to speak of "nast" and "was"? The description of the warp harkens back to primordial beginnings" of which Goethe speaks in the opening of his essay. This mention goes unexplained, as if the meaning of these beginnings, and even the fact of their existence at all, were intuitive to the reader. Are the "primordial beginnings" God and Nature, or is this warp representative of the "stuff of our universe— of the material of all plants, animalSjJgy.^g masterpiece, we turn again to its maker. If the warp is %ssive, "Await[ing] the casting of the weft / Forever waitling] the Master’s will," then the Master, the Weaver, must be the active argent. A "single movement" from her has the power of creating / Co^ntl^L unions at one stroke!" In an instant she "sends the shuttle and "castlsl the weft." The creative power of this Weaver is unfathomable an her Will unknowable. Is .his the same force ascribed to Nature the Metamorphosis of Plants? Could this Naturea goal "prescribes fate," "ceaselessly carries on her eternal work and exercises her right"—be the Weaver of our poem?5 ^ If the "Master’s will" is Nature’s creative force, then what of God. Perhaps we can envision God and Nature united m the f Weaver. Yet this conception seems contradictory to *6 claim that they operate upon one another. Is it more accurate to consider them as the ultimate cases of the tension in Goethe’s use of "Gestalt and ^^dung ^ While Gestalt is something fixed in its character, Bildung is m ceaseless flux It is the complex relationship between Being and Becoming. Being �always is and always has been. Becoming constantly evolves, but will never have "existence" in an absolute sense. Yet, how can a thing have reached that state without ever becoming, and how can a thing Become without having any Being? It appears to describe the same enigma as does the correspondence between idea and experience. If Nature is seen as Becoming and God as essential Being, then we have reversed the conventional role, making Nature the creator and God the material of her Whether one can definitively interpret the symbolic images within the lines of the poem, the reflection inspired by them is not to be overlooked. If we take the title literally, we should consider the poem in light of an answer from a classical Greek theatrical chorus. An antepirrhema is a chanted response to the action that has preceded it— in our case the essay "Indecision and Surrender”. As the Greek chorus often expressed information, a character's inner emotions, or an ideal response to the drama or insight for the characters themselves, so the poem resounds as a chorus for the reader. Here, the poem tells the audience, and perhaps the author himself, "Regard with silent wonder / he Eternal Weaver’s masterpiece." It is the same imperative given to Job as he ponders the unknown divine; "Stand still, and consider the wondrous works of God."? The message to the reader and the author is at despite man's desire and his eternal quest for knowledge, the Eternal Weaver s masterpiece" will forever remain a mystery. Man should position himself toward these marvels understanding that he will never fully know them, but nevertheless eternally considering them and allowing himself to be overcome by awe. It is this exactly this sense of wonder that is lost in prose and scientific experimentation. Through the apprehension of an isolated part man shortsightedly believes that has understood something about the whole. However, the whole to be considered— "the cosmic structure"— IS forever unavailable to him precisely because he is one of its parts Intuition, observation, and contemplation lead us closer to these mysteries, Goethe explains, "We are presumptuous and venture ideas of our own; turning more modest, we merely form concepts that might be analogous to those primordial beginnings." Poetry is Goethe's modest attempt. If the essay ventures to put forth presumptuous ideas of its own then the poem itself is a "concept that might be analogous to these primordial beginnings." Goethe needs the poem to capture the spirit of his thought. In his scientific prose he is bound either to express specific parts only, thereby missing the whole, or to grasp at the threads of an abstract idea of the 32 �whole, inevitably falling short of the impossible task. The analogy available in poetry allows him to express the inexpressible— to put into words something that cannot be named. He abandons the presumptuous idea that he can capture the whole with an idea, and instead humbly puts forth a concept that he claims might be analogous to it. In this mood, I too am resigned to accept the limitations of prose and its inability to convey ideas that lie beyond human comprehension. With my decision to surrender to analogous concepts, I humbly justify my own flight into poetry: Stand in awe before the amaranthine stage. Surrender to disinterested passion! Displace one note and the chord collapses. Yet the solitary tone moves no listener to tears. Harmony, dissonance, discord Orchestrated by the maestro's baton. Notes pass into phrases and escape Forever into the unreachable past. We are moved by the symphony of sound. Hearing but one beat in time. MCGee: Epode Endnotes 1. Unless trans. otherwise indicated, "Indecision Woodbridge, and all quotations Ox Bow from Bertha Mueller, Goethe's Botanical Writings. Surrender.” Connecticut: taken Press, 1952. pp. 219-220. All quotations within the essay are referenced in the Primary Texts list. 2. Bertha Mueller, trans. "The Metamorphosis of Plants.” Writings. 3. Bertha Mueller, Writings. 4. Goethe's Botanical Woodbridge, Connecticut: Ox Bow Press, 1952. p. 30-78. trans. "Propitious Encounter.” Goethe's Botanical Woodbridge, Connecticut: Ox Bow Press, 1952. p. 215-219. Translation from Morris taken from "Indecision and Surrender.” p. 220. Middleton translation from: Christopher Middleton, ed. "Antepirrhema.” Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Selected Poems. Boston: Suhrkamp/Insel Publishers, 1983. p. 163. 5. "The Metamorphosis of Plants." P. 40,44,48, 61, 70, etc. 6. Bertha Mueller, Writings. 7. trans. "Our Objective Is Stated." Goethe's Botanical Woodbridge, Connecticut: Ox Bow Press, 1952. p. 22-26. Job 37:16. 33 �Primary Texts R /- ■ 'Wolfgang. "Indecision and Surrender." Goet/2e'5 fr“rp^2™!22r^ ^Goethe, Johann Wolfgang. "The Metamorphosis of Plants. Goethe's Botanical Writings. Trans. Bertha Mueller. Woodbridee Connecticut: Ox Bow Press, 1952. p. 30-78. ^ Goethe, Johann Wolfgang. "Our Objective Is Stated." Goethe's Botanical Writings. Trans. Bertha Mueller. Woodbridge, Connecticut; Ox Bow Press, 1952. p. 22-26. R y ■ 'Wolfgang. "Propitious Encounter." Goet/ie's BlTrSrp'n'zir' Ox rn rh Td"' ed. "Antepirrhema.'7o/2onn Wolfgang von Goethe Selected Poems. Boston: Suhrkamp/lnsel Publishers, 198? p. 163. �Kindness in Aristotie's High-Minded Man Daphne Leveriza In Book IV of his Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle develops his vision for the perfect human being. He calls this person the high-minded or magnanimous man. As with all the other virtues that he enumerates throughout the Ethics, Aristotle explains the deficiency on one end and the extreme on the other end of the mean, the virtue in the perfectly balanced middle. In the case of the high-minded man the deficiency is, naturally, the small-minded man, who looks like something of a coward in comparison with himself. The small-minded man underestimates his self-worth and may even be guilty of false humility, as translator Martin Ostwald points out in a footnote. Whether it is due to a lack of self-understanding or a reluctance to point out his own merits to others, the small-minded man ultimately fails to claim what he actually deserves. On the opposite end of the spectrum, the extreme of the high-minded man is the vain man, perhaps a more familiar personality in our world today. The vain man thinks too highly of himself, puts too much effort into making others see him in the same glowing light, and makes the mistake of believing that he deserves things that he does not actually deserve. Aristotle even goes so far as to call this man a fool, in order to emphasize that "no man, insofar as he is virtuous, is either foolish or senseless" (1123b.5). As the epitome of all that Aristotle sees as virtuous, this highminded man is anything but foolish; in fact, he cannot even be mistaken for foolish because his foremost concern is honor. Ultimately, what defines the high-minded man is magnanimity, which "is the crown, as it were, of the virtues: it magnifies them and it cannot exist without them" (1124a.5]. In order for someone to be high-minded, then, he must possess all the virtues; once he occupies this state, he will be magnanimous. This culmination of the complete set of virtues will magnify them all and emphasize how truly virtuous he is. What is puzzling about this vision of the perfect man is the fact that while Aristotle goes so far as to describe how the high-minded man walks and talks, we know much more about how the he thinks than what he actually does. Aristotle’s portrayal of the high-minded man focuses on what this man values and how he looks at others; yet, in many of these situations, we must come to our own conclusions about what sort of action he takes. Furthermore, imagining the high-minded man's course of action in some of these situations actually calls into question how 35 �complete his virtues are, specifically those which Martin Ostwald labels gentleness and friendliness.” In short, a close consideration of certain aspects of Aristotle s magnanimous man raises the question: is the highminded man a kind man? There are two particular instances in the description of the highminded man wherein it seems that his attitude or thoughts would lead to unkind action. Take, for instance, his primary concern with maintaining honor and avoiding dishonor. Aristotle defines honors as the greatest of external goods (1123b.20], so it makes sense that this would be the main concern of a man who possesses ultimate and total virtue. However, there is a problem with honor; namely, there is no honor that is actually good enough to be bestowed upon a person of perfect virtue. As such, the highminded man actually despises the praise and honor shown to him by people who are lesser than him, for he deserves enormously better than the accolades of small-minded or vain people. It is as if the greatest of all athletes simply could not be excited by the ogling praise of an amateur who is beneath his level of talent. The troubling concept is that the highminded man, the man who serves as the embodiment of virtue in its most complete and excellent state, would actually despise anything that someone gives to him, even if it were given not out of spite or malice, but out of simple admiration. Regarding this scenario of praise conferred upon the high-minded man, Aristotle comes close to depicting what sort of action he would take, but only insofar as he explains how the magnanimous man reacts when people of equal standing honor him: From great honors and those that good men confer upon him he will derive a moderate amount of pleasure, convinced that he is only getting what is properly his or even less ... yet he will accept it, because they have no greater tribute to pay him. (1124a.5-10] From this description, we must assume that the high-minded man does not accept honors given to him by less virtuous people. Yet, is there a contradiction in the fact that he will not take these so-called honors from lesser men because they are not worthy of him, but he will accept honors from fellow good men even when they are less than what he deserves? The high-minded man’s disdain of admiration, praise, or (what he considers) false honors from lesser men is further developed in Aristotle s later assertion that any attitude of condescension that the magnanimous man has towards those of less virtue is in fact warranted. 36 �Indeed, the magnanimous man has the correct opinion of these lesser men, while most people make the mistake of looking down upon others without legitimate reason for doing so. The vain man in particular must be guilty of this misjudgment of others and himself. Yet if the highminded man is justified in looking down upon others, does this mean that he is permitted to act upon this correct opinion and thus engage in unkindness? If the magnanimous man knows that he is superior to others and if it is a foremost concern of his to maintain his honor and superiority, how does he treat those who are beneath him? How does his justifiably superior attitude manifest itself in his behavior toward others? If he sees a dissolute man stumbling drunk on the streets, does he ignore him? Spit upon him in just anger and disgust? Offer to take him in even though the dissolute man is not worthy to offer petty tokens of admiration to him? Shortly after the assertion that the high-minded man has every right to look down upon others, Aristotle offers an even more confounding insight into the mind of this man: The high-minded also seem to remember the good turns they have done, but not those they have received. For the recipient is inferior to the benefactor, whereas a high-minded man wishes to be superior. They listen with pleasure to what good they have done, but with displeasure to what good they have received. (1124b.l0-15] In addition to the possibility of being seen as unkind, the high-minded man is perhaps also ungrateful. He is indifferent to the kindness of others due to the fact that he is preoccupied with his own good deeds rather than those of others. Furthermore, any instance in which he the recipient rather than the benefactor does not meet his standards of superiority. He rarely asks for favors but he is always ready to be of aid to others; this may look like an apt description of generosity, but the high-minded man takes this position so that he can more often occupy the position of superiority (the benefactor). It seems, then, that the only thing more out of character for the high-minded man than asking for help is thanking someone for those few favors that he rarely and reluctantly seeks. This would require remembering those favors, an act that he always carries out with displeasure. Ultimately, this question of whether or not the high-minded man acts kindly is a difficult one; Nowhere in the Ethics does Aristotle describe 37 �a virtue named kindness. It is only in the discussion of gentleness and friendliness that he discusses something that could be akin to kindness. In keeping \vith the fact that the high-minded man possesses all the virtues (his magnanimity is, after all, the crown of all virtues], we must consider how the virtues of gentleness and friendliness would manifest themselves in his behavior. In discussing gentleness, Aristotle first establishes the deficiency and extreme of this virtue, which are apathy and a short temper, respectively. The gentle man is particularly good at controlling his emotions; he does not let them control him. When he is angry, it is only under appropriate circumstances and for a reasonable amount of time. What is interesting about gentleness is that Aristotle states that it is actually a mean that is more akin to its deficiency, apathy, than it is to its extreme, short-temperedness. Certainly, the gentle man does not go so far as to allow others to dishonor him or his loved ones, but he does tend to be forgiving more often than he is vindictive. This virtue of gentleness, then, has a great deal to do with relating to others in a "correct" way at a "correct" time; and, when it comes to anger, keeping one's emotions even and reasonable. In the case of the high-minded man receiving praise and honor from those lower than him, it seems that if he were to maintain his virtue of gentleness, he simply might not react at all, thus, erring on the side of what appears to be apathy. On the other hand, he might show a tempered reaction, reluctantly accepting honors, while in his mind forgiving those who foolishly offer him meaningless praise. At any rate, he makes sure not to compromise his magnanimous character by accepting such gifts. Nor does he lash out in undue anger towards lesser people who may not know any better. Both of these reactions would be a departure from the mean of gentleness. In the same way that Aristotle arranges his discussion of gentleness around anger, he also reduces the virtue of friendliness to a social virtue. The excess of this virtue is obsequiousness, a vice of which people-pleasing flatterers are guilty. The deficiency is grouchiness, which causes people to "object to everything without caring in the least whether they give pain" (1126b.l5]. The friendly man occupies the mean between these two extremes. As with gentleness, friendliness causes its possessor to put up with things in the appropriate way and at the right time. Though the friendly man is primarily concerned with social relations, he is concerned in such a way that he aims for what is honorable for himself and beneficial for others. As such, friendliness seems to be a virtue that has much to do with manners, for the friendly man behaves differently towards different types of people. He adjusts his behavior based on 38 �whether or not he knows someone or their social standing, making sure to please where it is appropriate to please, and to avoid causing pain. Thus, the friendly man would not treat a stranger with the same affection that he would treat his own mother, for that would be offering too much pleasure to the stranger. Nor would he scorn a stranger the same way that he would scorn a deserving enemy, for that would not be giving enough pain to the enemy. , j i j In the case of the high-minded man and the dissolute drunkard, then, it seems that Aristotle would require more context to determine how the magnanimous man would treat such an inferior. If the man were asking for money with the admitted intent to purchase more wine, the high-minded man would refuse, perhaps causing pain because it would not be honorable to acquiesce to this particular pleasure, which is ultimately harmful to the dissolute man. And, perhaps, if the drunkard were behaving loudly and in a belligerent manner, disturbing the peace the high-minded man would silence him with the appropriate amount of anger, thus being gentle, and with the right treatment, thus being friendly, so as to force the dissolute man himself into correct social relations. Although it is a bit clearer now how the high-minded man behaves in terms of kindness, the matter is still complicated by the fact that Aristotle does not give the title "kindness” to any of his virtues. Nor, however, does he assign the terms gentleness and friendliness to the virtues explain above. As stated earlier, these are labels created by Martin Ostwald in his translation of the Ethics. In fact, in the sections on gentleness and friendliness, Aristotle explicitly states that he himself lacks the words to describe these means. Though he does use the world gentleness, he asserts that there is not actually a proper term for the person who exhibits the mean between apathy and a short temper. In regard to friendliness, he is even more uncertain, going so far as to say that the two extremes of obsequiousness and grouchiness "appear to be only opposed to one another, because there is no name for the middle (■1127a.10). In considering the actions of the high-minded man, Aristot e s lack of precision in naming some of his virtues actually makes sense. He addresses the difficulty of acting well when discussing gentleness, asserting that discerning the line between correct moral action and incorrect moral action is not as simple as it may seem. Finding this line is dependent upon the particulars of the circumstance as well as the keenness of our own individual moral sense. Proper moral action, then, is about striking a balance, just as achieving virtue is always a matter of finding the mean between two extremes. Perhaps this is why Aristotle makes it a point to say that the high-minded man is, in fact, a man who 39 �acts rarely and takes his time in considering how to act when he does decide to act. This is why the few actions of the magnanimous man— the man who is the paragon of virtue at its most complete and most excellent, the man who always knows the mean and how to act upon it— are always great and distinguished (1124b.25]. Primary Text Aristotle. Nicomachean Ethics. Translated by Martin Ostwald. Prentice Hall: Upper Saddle River, New Jersey, 1999. �A Work in Progress: The Natural Connection in the Land of the Future in Hegel’s "Geographical Basis of History" Jeffrey Allen Georg F.W. Hegel offers three methods of history in the Introduction to his Philosophy of History: Original History, Reflective History, and Philosophical History. The first is the purview of a Herodotus or a Thucydides, those who were witness to the events that they chronicled and "whose spirit they shared."i In the second, history transcends the present and the historian attempts to form a picture of the whole (e.g. Livy). The third method is the focal point of the Introduction and the work as a whole (hence the title), as Hegel traces the history of thought and the role of the eternally present Spirit within its WorldHistorical development. The final section of his Introduction, "Geographical Basis of History," examines what he calls the "natural connection that helps to produce the Spirit of a People." 2 Within his discussion of Philosophical History, Hegel makes an important distinction between an "abstract form" and a "concrete development."^ The former is the place where Spirit, Reason, Freedom, and Consciousness are found, the latter is the historical location of these ideas in time and space, and it is the role of the former that takes precedence in tracing the philosophy of history. In the first paragraph of "Geographical Basis," Hegel returns to this idea, focusing here on the Spirit’s "embodiment as a series of external forms."'* He notes that while this "appears an extrinsic element... we must regard it as the ground on which that Spirit plays its part ... an essential and necessary basis.’’^ If history is the development of Spirit in Time, as he says, this section addresses how that Spirit is understood in relationship to the natural world. How does the natural connection help to produce the Spirit of a People? What does it look like for the Spirit to operate within the natural world? Hegel notes that the Spirit of a people is found in their activity: "[I]t is a Spirit having strictly defined characteristics, which erects itself into an objective world, that exists and persists in a particular religious form of worship, customs, constitution, and political laws."^He goes on to summarize these features by saying, "That is what this particular Nation is. Nations are what their deeds are."^ 41 �According to Hegel, the scene of world history has its foci in Africa Asia, and Europe. It is here that men are free to act, whereas such elsewhere The northern hemisphere offers landmass and biological commonality, whereas the southern hemisphere is largely divided and contrasted^s addition to these north-south distinctions, there are divisions between the Old and New Worlds as well. The New World constitutes true world history for Hegel, a "concern . . . with that which with id? f of a world that has wrestled WoH? A °f^,®3son Consciousness, and Freedom. He considers the New World- America and Australia- to have operated outside the sphere of world history, as is the case with places like sub-Saharan Africa. However, unlike the former, the latter is considered "the land of the future "lo It is this consideration of America as the place "where, in the ages that lie before us, the burden of the World's History shall reveal itLlf^i that drives us to ask about her natural connections that form the ground for the Spirit of a People and about the relationship of these natural connections with this "land of the future." Hpapi phrase "land of the future" raises a couple of questions. If, as Hege claims, Asia is the beginning of history and Europe is its "absolute end, ,n what way is America the "land of the future"? Is America able to take part m history because of its inhabitation by European emigrantsis and Its continuation of Europe as the end of history? Or does its status as a uture-oriented nation remove it completely from the realm of history? ? to Hogel, "is only an echo of the Old e expression of a foreign life."i4 This speaks to the idea that the character is heavily conditioned by its European ancestry, and hat if It IS to become something beyond historical, it must redefine itself within Its North American context. Hegel makes a very interesting discussion of America back tl which hitherto the History of the World has developed itself."i5 The ground upon which the History of the World has developed, if it is to be understood as the same ground to which Hegel refers in reference to the development of the Spirit of a People, is the natural connection, the geographical basis of history. In citing a statement by Napoleon, "Cette vieille Europe m ennuie"^e (-This old Europe bores me"), Hegel captures the necessity of moving out of the Old World and into the New. This quotation seems to be the place where the European spirit becomes reinvigorated by the immense American continent. It is the vastness of this undiscovered country, the mystery of the frontier, which appears to 42 �form a natural connection between the Spirit of the European people and the potential of the New World. The aforementioned features of national character (a particular form of religious worship, customs, constitution, and political laws) are here identified in their American iteration, signifying the cooperation of the natural world with the disposition of individuals. Religious and political principles are recast in this new land: What was once industry for the sake of Protestant religious activity and the good of the community became "acquisition, commercial profit, and gain; the preponderance of private interest.” The community becomes simply an "aggregation of individuals as atomic constituents,"!® and the state "merely something external for the protection of property.”!® it is as if these principles have been turned back against themselves. Industry and economics were previously informed by religious and political principles. Now it is the religious and political principles that are acted upon by industry and economy. The sheer volume of land circumvents the necessity of civil and political discord by offering a natural "outlet of colonization,” one that Hegel notes is "constantly and widely open, and multitudes are continually streaming into the plains of the Mississippi.'’^® The only limit to America’s historical potential seems to be the frontiers themselves. Hegel says that "only after the immeasurable space which that country presents to its inhabitants shall have been occupied, and the members of the political body shall have begun to be pressed back on each other”^! will America have to address the questions that confront Europe. The words "immeasurable space” and "pressed back” connote this natural connection. It is because of the immeasurable space that the North American continent affords that the political character of the people is formed. Pressing back evokes a vivid sense of both physical proximity and political tension. America is both physically and psychically acting upon the principles that were exported to its shores, which is to say that the physical geography of the North American continent and the opportunity it affords are found to be acting upon the economic, political, and religious forms of national character that made their way over the pond. The place where people live, eat, breathe, labour, and die is not accidental to the character of a people. It is not as though the natural world is the sole determining factor for the activities and character of nations and peoples; however, Hegel recognizes its significance in forming their Spirit. A fine vintage of grapes that is produced by the dirt, the sun, the water, the wind, and the invisible hand of the winemaker is 43 �not simply the sum of its parts. But it is not a fine vintage of grapes without terrior, which influences the character of the grape to such an extent that it would not be the grape it is without such features. The North American continent seems to offer fertile soil for the cultivation of the Spirit's development, a place where the Consciousness and Freedom of the Old World are manifest through the natural connection of a New World. Thus, the end of history is not a terminus,^^ but a telos, where the progress of the Spirit meets the land of the future. Endnotes 1. Hegel, Georg 2. The Philosophy of History. F.W. Books, 1991, pp. New York: Prometheus 1. Ibid., 79. 3. Ibid., 12. 4. Ibid., 79. 5. Ibid., Italics his. 6. Ibid., 74. 7. Ibid. Italics his. One hears echoes of Herder’s national genius (J.G. von Herder, Reflections on the Philosophy of the History of Mankind) 8. Ibid., 80. 9. Ibid., 87. Italics his. Brackets mine. 10. Ibid., 86. 11. Ibid. 12. Ibid., 103. 13. Cf 81-82 14. Ibid. One might offer a sort of counter-Hegelian argument with regard to the presence of Europeans in the Americas. the character of the existing structures This event has a dramatic effect on (political, economic, etc. It is not difficult to imagine that those operating outside a Hegelian view of history would see these events as deeply problematic (ethnocentrism, colonization, conquest, and economic oppression might be possible counter-narratives) 15. Ibid. 16. Ibid. 17. Ibid., 85. Italics his. One Democracy in America, 18. 19. 20. cannot help but hear Tocqueville here (cf. Vol. 1, Ch.2, Pt. 6, et al). Ibid., 84. Ibid. Ibid., 86. 21. Ibid. 22. Nietzsche history suggests and historical that that what rondo.” Hegel might remained Since he did was not, have “only called a his time musical Nietzsche the coda believes that terminus of the it has of worldplaced modem man at the mercy of “the power of history”— simply as a yes man to progress and success. This could well lead to a quite robust discussion on the 44 �potential of Nietzsche, the individual within the progression of history (Friedrich On the Advantage and Disadvantage of History for Life. Indianapolis'. Hackett Publishing, 1980, 47). Primary Text Hegel, Georg F.W. The Philosophy of History. New York: Prometheus Books, 1991. 45 �The Path of the Good King' A Journey from Loss to Renewal and Return in the Mahabharata Turner Resor walic of battle at Lanka, after Ravana had fortified the walls of his city and Rama, along with Hanuman and his monkey armv has bivouacked in the surrounding forest, Angada is senT by R^ama to del ver a message to Ravana and his ministers. Standing amidst a Countries and cities that incur a king of unmade soul who is bent “f = Policy, and destroved 7 (7 stroyed It is you alone who have committed a crime bv abduct,ng Sita forcibly. But this will lead to the slaughter of others Who are innocent.i (Van Buitenen, 268.10] The foretold annihilation of Lanka is a powerful reminder of how tenuous he glories are for an “unmade" king and his kingdom. Ravana’s pnde the downfallhim blind to dharma and leadin' the downfall of his city, people, family, and himself. His character serves counter-example or anti-hero included as part of Rama’s heroic journey towards reunion with the self, as symbolized by Sita, and the recovery of Sita is being related to Yudhisthira by Markandeya as a storv that is meant to show the significance of the Pandava ruler’s own period hL^htf'T'’' "^hese circumstances reach thei^ height following the incident of Draupadl’s abduction by Jayadratha. By looking at the stories of Yudhisthira and Rama when they on DuhsanTa the T "" *e example of forLt before ^ets drawn into the the cycle of .ul ^ ^ begins to emerge that frames the cycle of the heroic individual in the phases of departure storipf ' 3od return to the throne. Mainly these tTshow thrtT“° leadership and to show that there is an individual responsibility that must be fulfilled before one becomes king. It is a responsibility that runs deeper and is faJ 46 �more personal than the superficial kingly qualifications that are more commonly understood. It is a responsibility to an inward exploration, seemingly involuntary but more likely fated, that can be experienced but not taught; it presents a challenge, no less consequential than the outcome of war; and it threatens the leader's individual existence by removing the shelter of artificial rank and social position, testing the mettle of their virtue alone. In short, "the king must conquer first himself.”^ On the successful completion of this journey, which seeks a reunion with the source and culminates at a point either of self-discovery or self-affirmation, hinges the order and prosperity of the kingdom. Having reached the source, the king gives himself back to the people as a link between the two worlds, the one he has obtained and the one where he will rule. Subsequent to this larger heroic framework there are several recurrent archetypes at play. There is the idea of the “other" that lies beyond the city walls, a land of wild animals, demons, and Brahmins, identified in these stories by the forest. There is a "loss of identity” by the heroes that travel into these lands, and along with that a "disorientation" that shows the heroes’ vulnerability and tests their individual prowess. This loss of control often results in the abduction of their women by "antihero" characters who misuse their powers to fulfill adharmic desires deluded by jealousy, anger, or greed. And finally, there is the "return" to the kingdom, a stage no less difficult than the others, requiring that the king ultimately give himself to his people. Maybe the most important archetype in each of these stories is the hero's wife. The hero’s wife stands as the counterpart to the hero's soul. Separated from his wife, the hero cannot live fully. She is the anthropomorphized "reunion with the source;” she is the destined "self’ that takes an otherwise restless masculine drive and tempers its powers of destruction with the powers of creation; "a husband enters his wife and is reborn from her."^ It is through the feminine that the important connection with the other is maintained after the hero has returned, thus allowing for the nurturing of the kingdom and the conception of an heir. Each archetype arises organically and serves as the person or point in time in which he must act and prove his legitimacy. The hero will consistently strive to respond to these ideals dharmically, while the antihero will be driven by attachment, the acquisition of power for power’s sake, and other base desires. To understand the nature of the hero’s journey it is helpful to identify the archetypes that are at work within the various stages of the cycle. 47 �The first stage is marked by a departure from the kingdom into a largely unknown and uncontrolled realm, generally represented as the "other." Along with departure comes a loss of kingly identity. With Yudisthira and Rama this is seen in their exiles to the forest. Duhsanta leaves his kingdom by choice to go hunting with his army, also in the forest. The forest is a liminal domain. In an age of high dharma, Brahmins who have renounced city living in pursuit of moksa, or final release, are the forest’s main human occupants. As dharma declines it also attracts other marginal characters, some ascetics and deviants, who are driven by unchecked human emotion and materialism and who understand that the land is a place where they can attain to higher powers. Yudhisthira’s exile into the forest and loss of kingdom during the gambling match with Sakuni is the most dramatic example from the three stories. After Dhrtarastra returns the possessions of Pandu's sons, which were lost in the first gambling match and amounted to their entire kingdom including themselves and DraupadI, "Duryodhana, Kama, and Sakuni . . . plotted together in their pride against the Pandavas”^ and invited the Pandavas back to gamble a second time. Yudhisthira, adhering to his Ksatriya dharma and understanding that it is fate that is in control, cannot refuse the offer. This time the wager is that the losers must go into exile in the forest for twelve years, while in the meantime the winners are given the losers' portion of the kingdom. Sakuni predictably wins again and "Kunti's sons, defeated, turned their minds towards exile in the forest; one after another, they took antelope-skins for their upper garments.’’^ At this Duhsasana gloats: '"They are stripped of their happiness and of their kingdom; they are lost for endless years! . . . Stripped of their wealth . . . they are going to the forestl’”^ It is worth noting that in the second gambling match the Pandavas retain their selves. The account of Rama’s exile is similar. Jealous of Rama, Kaikeyl, the mother of Rama’s brother Bharata, tricks King Dasaratha into giving Bharata the kingdom that was intended for Rama, and further, exiling Rama to the woods. In both cases it is deceit and greed for the riches of others, and the adherence to dharma by Yudhisthira and Rama, that sends the heroes into the woods. This establishes the tension between the sacred and profane is established. It may seem as though these two kings are exiled against their wishes, but it can also be said that they choose the path of dharma, and the desire for dharma is preeminent amongst the wise. Evidence for this is seen when Draupadi questions Yudhisthira’s adherence to dharma following their exile. He responds by reminding her that "he adheres to 48 �dharma not in hopo of gain but because it is right... Proclaimed by wise seers ... The rewards for practicing dharma may be invisible to mortals, but they are assuredly real.'’^ To believe this requires faith that dharma is capable of yielding something greater than the opulent life they themselves used to live,”8 an idea seemingly absurd to Duryodhana and his cohorts. Duhsanta’s journey into the depths of the woods is at first intended and later incidental as he is led deeper and deeper in search for deer. In a way his journey is also logical. He is already thought of as a great king living in a time of high dharma. Supposing, as this paper does, that this journey is naturally occurring and prerequisite to a successful rule, following his dharma as a good king would inevitably lead him onto this path, thus further establishing him as more than a good king but also the founder of the Kuru dynasty. Leaving the defined boundaries of the relatively mundane and the more obvious delineations of dharma, descending further into distant lands, these three kings carry onward. Thresholds are overcome and markings of past identities are shed. Yudhisthira and his brothers are forced to dress in antelope-skins, while Rama and his brother Laksmana put on "the scant adornment of ascetics.”^ The separation from subjects and friends is also seen when the people of the city attempt to follow the Pandavas into exile but are told to go back since the brothers will no longer be able to support them.io These heroes who are renouncing their old garments, comforts, and company are symbolically metamorphosing from Ksatriyas into Brahmins, and it is the Brahmin’s land of hermitages, dharmic subtleties, and spiritual attainment in which they now find themselves. The hero’s sloughing-off of identity as he wanders into more distant lands is well illustrated in the tale of Duhsanta who travels through four different realms before finding his future wife Sakuntala in the hut of her father, the renowned seer, Kanva. Upon leaving his city for the hunt, Duhsanta first leaves the womenfolk who watch his departure from their balconies, after which the "town and country folk followed him a long way, until the king finally dismissed them and they returned. Duhsanta and his army now go into the first woods where they utterly destroy all the big game. The slaughter represents another important archetypal element in which renewal or a return to the origins is preceded by violence, upheaval, and destruction. Leaving the main army behind Duhsanta continues, "supremely strong, though hungry and thirsty, [to] penetrate by himself into the depths of the forest,’’i2 until passing three more thresholds at which point 49 �he "halted his escort of chariots with footmen at the gate of the wood” instructing them to "remain here until my return.'’i3 He continues now with only his closest personal and spiritual advisors: And upon entering that wood, like another paradise of Indra, the lord of men shed his hunger and thirst, and became overjoyed. Discarding his regalia and accompanied only by councilor and priest, he walked to the grand hermitage ... At last, reaching Kasyapa's sanctum, Duhsanta dismisses his councilors and priest. From here he can only continue on alone. At the threshold of each realm he leaves behind another part of his identity, eventually finding himself alone at the hermitage at which point he shouts, "Who is here?" because he is encountering his unaffected self for the first time. Duhsanta’s progress is constantly moving from the material to the spiritual, from the particular to the universal, and from the lower classes to the higher classes. The Vaisya and Sudra castes are left behind at the city. He moves onward with his Ksatriya warriors. The description of the animal slaughter has a visceral weariness and weight to it that poetically captures a kind of separation anxiety which continues to bind these men to the material and to isolate them from the spiritual. They are referred to as "starving tiger men" who eat meat raw and attack elephants that in a panic are "dropping dung and urine and streaming with blood."i4^ A baseness and desperation are vividly depicted when these two worlds collide. Simultaneously, the warriors are compared to the beasts of the forests and put at odds with them. Unable to understand their profound sympathy to these beasts, the Ksatriya warriors in fear resort to an instinctual masculine domination. Unable to go on, they are left behind as Duhsanta goes further and thus the weight of his own embodiment is gradually alleviated. Traveling onward, the king loses his hunger and thirst. The meta-geography of this journey can be imagined as the king passing through the ringed layers of a concentric circle, moving always towards the center. With each move inward the surroundings become more and more harmonious, the forest increasingly fertile and interlaced with the channels of holy rivers. The sweet songs of the Vedas share the air with the "pollen of flowers . . . [that] accosts the trees as though to make love to them."i3 As the king melds into his surroundings and drops the clothes that separate him, he sees "beasts of prey and deer peaceably together" and is "filled with the purest joy."i6 In the last stage of his reconnaissance, Duhsanta reaches the center: 50 �Thereupon the illustrious warrior drew nigh to the hermitage that most enchanting everywhere, was the image of the world of the Gods. He saw the river that embraced the hermitage with her holy water spreading out like the mother of all creatures ... The sound of holy Vedic lessons wafted over the river; sandbanks strung pearls upon her ... When he saw the hermitage and the river that enclosed it, the king set his mind upon entering. (64.18-23] When Duhsanta crosses over the channel of water between himself and the hermitage he does so alone. No counsel, secular or religious, can take him further; it is only his individual courage and lack of attachment that can. And it is not an easy last step, for as he leaves the last of his bonds to the old world on the outer bank, he is stepping entirely into the unknown. It is a living suicide, the razor's edge that can be crossed over only with faith that what is on the other side is divine. It is a symbolic death and rebirth in which he is giving "up the earth for the sake of [his self].”!^ On the other side of the river lies the center of all the realms he has passed through, the origin of all beings, the center of the Turning of the Wheel, and Sakuntala, his wife to be. He has connected with the source, and now he has seen what he needed to see before going back and becoming a true king. The whole reason for the hero’s journey into the forest is to discover this source, which is the same as the individual and universal self. The importance of the source is demonstrated allegorically at the beginning of the Pandava's exile. Yudhisthira asks his priest Dhaumya "how he may provide for the Brahmins; Dhaumya advises him to turn to the Sun, source of all nourishment."i8 It is also seen in the symbolic importance of the forest as a place where the Brahmin caste goes in isolation to study the Vedas, which would be considered the source of knowledge. After Duhsanta shouts "Who is here?” he sees Sakuntala and falls in love. Sakuntala is the personification of this reunion with the source and the powers of creativity that it establishes. "The wife is half the man, a wife is better than his best friend, a wife is the root of law. Profit, and Love.”i^ Sakuntala also represents a piece of the origin that Duhsanta will eventually bring back to the kingdom with him once they are secretly married. As his wife, she will be a source of stability and a balance to his masculinity, and as a woman, someone able to create new life, ensuring the continuation and prosperity of the entire kingdom. 51 �The heroic cycles of the Rama and Pandavas are not as clearly demarcated as that of Duhsanta, but the same principles are at work and the wife remains an important figure. Rather than finding Sita for the first time, Rama’s exile becomes the quest to recover Sita, who was already his wife, and "whom the Maker himself had destined to be Rama's beloved queen, sita is abducted by Ravana, who comes to her posing as a Brahmin after Rama and Laksmana go in pursuit of Ravana's accomplice, Marica, who has disguised himself as a splendid deer. It is implied more than once in this tale that Rama will not be able to return from exile, regain the throne, or even continue to live unless he is able to recover Sita. Looking for help from the apes to find Sita, Rama pleads: Will you bring me back to life? . . . Shall I once more rule the kingdom of Ayodhya, after slaying the enemies in battle and recovering Janaka’s daughter? I cannot bear to live without freeing and killing foes in war, bereft of my wife and exiled! To get Sita back, Rama must first overcome many obstacles that will test his prowess. He must save Laksmana from the hideous Raksasa Kabandha; he must help Sugriva usurp the throne from the lord of the apes, Valin; with Hanuman and the monkey army, he must cross a great Ocean; finally he must defeat Ravana at Lanka. So again in the story of Rama, as with Duhsanta, the hero in exile is faced with challenges and passes through many phases that culminate in the reunion with his wife, at which point he is ready to return to the throne. The story of how the Pandavas lose DraupadI is nearly identical. The brothers are out hunting when King Jayadratha passes by the hermitage and sees DraupadI. He tries to persuade DraupadI to abandon her husbands and to go with him. When she refuses, Jayadratha "drags her into his chariof'^i The brothers "may have recovered her by killing the Saindhava army, but [they] did have [their] own wife abducted absent-mindedly."22 This last lamentation reflects the necessarily disorientating nature of the forest. Vulnerable outside the walls of their kingdom, where dharma is more easily understood, even the Pandavas are susceptible to the loss of their wife. As seen above in Duhsanta's story, the wife is analogous to the hero’s soul. In one passage of this story this association is almost directly stated. Speaking to King Duhsanta, who has now returned to his kingdom, Sakuntala states that, "A man who despises his soul and dissembles will find the Gods of no avail and his soul of no benefit,” and in the very next 52 �line adds,23 "Do not despise me." Supposing that this connection holds constant for the other stories, it is interesting to consider how Rama and the Pandavas become disoriented in the forest and consequently lose their wives for a time. For the heroes, this loss is the definitive and most trying crisis of their exile. Without their wives they will remain lost and unable to regain their kingdoms. Once they find their wives again, they are tried and true. In all three stories there are anti-heroes, powerful Raksasas, misguided ascetics, or lustful kings who are contrasted against the purposes of the heroes. For the Pandavas there is Jayadratha. In the story of Rama there is Ravana, and in the story of Duhsanta there is a sub-story that portrays Visvamitra, "who was born a baron and by brute force became a Brahmin."24 Their deviance is usually ambiguous. What they have achieved through austerities is often quite impressive, but they are betrayed by their lawless intentions that eventually reveal themselves, leading to the anti-heroes' fall. Rather than strictly following dharma these characters remain attached to their actions, and are ambitious for the powers, riches, and pleasures that can be gained from dissembling. This evil-mindedness is spoken of in The Colloquy of the Brahmin and the Hunter: Man is ruled by greed and battered by love and hatred; his spirit is not pointed to the Law, but he pretends to observe the Law. He pretends to follow the Law, but, in his dissembling, enjoys Unlaw. His spirit delights in the riches to which he succeeded while he dissembled, good Brahmin, and then turns to evil . . . Under the influence of the vice of his passion, his lawlessness flourishes triply: he thinks evil, speaks evil, does evil.23 These evildoers and law-abusers illustrate the dangers of the journey and display the range of human desires and emotions that threaten the singleminded purpose of the heroes. Their lot is a cursed one. Since they cannot create, they must consume and can never be fulfilled because their own behavior offends themselves, whereas to follow dharma is to nurture oneself. The anti-heroes are often found desperately pursuing satisfaction where it cannot be attained, i.e. in the conquest of another man’s wife, which again and again is said to be impossible. They are tragically lost souls, but are never far away from the hero, a point that emphasizes the tremendous perils that the hero risks. They, like Ravana, cannot be good rulers since they only consume and do not create. They are prevalent in 53 �the realm of the "other" since there they are free from law and able through austerities, to gam power, which they will misuse. If the heroes can avoid the trappings of these adharmic characters and complete their quest, the return to the throne is all that remains This IS often much more difficult than it would seem. Up to this point the heroes might have imagined that they would return to their kingdom at last satisfied but after all the obstacles, all the years of exile, and all the battles, much has changed. Yudhisthira, Rama, and Duhsanta all struggle to reintegrate or return to the way things were before. *■ destroys Lanka and Havana's army he is hesitant to accept Sita again as his wife. He feels that he has fulfilled his dharmic responsibility by freeing her from captivity, but is wary that her being has been compromised during her imprisonment. He tells her: Go, Vaidehi, you are free. I have done what I had to do. Once you found me as a husband, good woman, you were not to grow old in a Raksasa’s house— that is why I killed the Night Stalker. For how would a man like me, who knows the decision of the Law, maintain even for an instant a woman who had been in another man s hands? Whether you are innocent or guilty, Maithili, I can no more enjoy you, no more than an oblation that has been licked by a dog. U75.11-14] There is a contradiction in Rama’s logic. It was the king’s adherence to dhormo and his decision to go into exile that led to SIta’s abduction. It was dharma that informed Rama to rescue Sita from Havana. But now it is also dharma that tells Rama he can free Sita, but not reunite with her It appears as though by necessity Sita must be trusted since it was fate that created her captivity, but Rama cannot accept that fact. His stringent guidelines resemble the more practical interpretation of Ksatriya dharma even though m many ways he has been living in and advanced to a realm of Brahmin dharma. Only after four Gods tell Rama that Sita is worthy of his love does he hesitantly take her back. The dilemma illustrates how the Ksatriya king is now confronted with a paradox between the higher dharma he has attained and the dharma that is appropriate to his caste. Duhsanta, apparently, also must find a balance between his secret marriage in the forest and the dharma of the city people.^^ . . ^odhisthira appears to be caught in a similar situation. After the battle IS over and he and his brothers are finally able to return to their 54 �kingdom he appears to have doubts. To the objection of all of those close to him he declares that he will now go perform austerities in the forest like a Brahmin to prepare for final release. He is told that this is contrary to his dharma, that "the dharma of kings is different from that of Brahmins."27 in a sense, Yudhisthira is being told that nothing he has done was done for himself. It is at this point that he begins to understand what true renunciation means. Yudhisthira must return because all of the other classes are dependent upon the Ksatriya king: The Vedas state that the dharmas of the non-ksatriya classes all depend upon the dharma of the king; without the king's rod of force the Vedas would perish and so would all dharmas and the stages of life themselves . . . Ksatriya dharma was Visnu's first creation; all other dharmas followed. Without the Ksatriya dharma there would be no Brahmins, no dharmas, no classes of society, no stages of life.^s Ksatriya dharma is valued because it creates a politics for peace amongst the other classes. The problem for the hero who must return to the throne is that he has come to know the weaknesses of being human from experience; he knows the depravities of man better than anyone else because he has overcome them; and he no longer wishes to be associated with this reality. As an individual he has transcended the profanities to which the Ksatriya class is inextricably linked yet he must remain adherent to his class dharma. Reconciling these two kinds of dharma appears to be extremely difficult and unpleasant. It is the hesitancy to rule that makes this person a great king. He is now whole and has now surpassed the weaknesses that rule the human body, thus he becomes "a great deity in the form of a man, taking on different divine aspects as he performs his different duties."^^ Only a person like this hero can be trusted not to rule the kingdom for his own benefit, for "a king exists to foster dharma not to pursue his own interests."3o So the adherent to dharma will not know his fate until the very end and it may not be what was expected or longed for. The Ksatriya hero who seeks final relief or final release will seek it in vain for it is his dharma to postpone this last departure. His only consolation is in the belief that the good king will eventually attain the heaven of Indra. In understanding the cyclical journey that leads to the proper attainment of the throne, which various heroes undergo during this eastern epic, a light is shone throughout the Mahdbhdrata as a whole. As an extracted framework the hero's quest is given a body and obtains an 55 �almost living quality capable of breathing life into the other paradigms of the story with which it is intertwined. Once the pattern of language that rests below the superficial variances of the individual story is revealed, new insights can be made into the nature of the elements that are subsumed. The importance of the discovery and reconnection to the feminine is essential to the journey itself, but is also telling of the nature of pure love. The shedding of one's material possessions must come before the hero departs for the forest, illustrating the bonds that separate the mundane and the spiritual. And the King’s difficulty in reconciling the Ksatriya and Brahmin dharmas provides an interesting look into the nature of politics and the sacrifices made by a rightful leader. The King's path is one of many frameworks in the Mahdbhdrata, but like the others it holds to an underlying truth in a way that charges the embedded motifs with meaning. The truth is what holds fast, and by familiarizing oneself with the constant, one nears a better understanding of the dharma. Endnotes The Mahdbhdrata. 1. Van Buitenen, J.A.B. (University of Chicago Chicago) 1981. The Abduction of Draupadi: Rama, pp. 268.10. 2. Smith, 609. 3. 4. 5. 6. John D. The Mahdbhdrata. (Penguin Classics: The Mahdbhdrata. Smith, John D. The Hall, pp. The Hall, pp. 159, The Hall, pp. 160. 7. Smith, John D. 8. The Mahdbhdrata. 9. The Abduction of Draupadi; Rama, pp. 261.37. 10. The Mahdbhdrata. The Origins; Sakuntala, pp. 63.10. 12. Ibid., 64.1. Ibid., 64.25. 14. Ibid., 63.20. 15. Ibid., 64.10. 16. Ibid., 64.15. 17. Smith, John D. 18. The Forest, pp. The Mahdbhdrata. The Mahdbhdrata. The Forest, pp. Press: 168. 164. The Hall, pp. The Origins; Sakuntala, pp. 68.40. The Abduction of Draupadi: Rama, pp. 258.10. The Mahdbhdrata. 135. 164. 19. Smith, John D. Chicago 156. The Forest, pp. 20. 21. of The Forest, pp. 168. 11. 13. do 2009 ’ Van Buitenen, J.A.B. (University Chicago) 1981.The Origins; Sakuntala, 68.35. The Mahdbhdrata. The Mahdbhdrata. The Mahdbhdrata. The Mahdbhdrata. London) Press; The Forest, pp. 210. 56 �22. The Abduction of Draupadl: Rama, pp. 257.5. 23. The Origins: Sakuntala, pp. 68.30. 24. Ibid., 65.25. Menaka’s seduction of Visvamitra is another example of how 25. The Session with Markandeya: The Colloquy of the Brahmin and the Hunter the feminine force can quell the destructive powers of masculinity. 201.5 26. Duhsanta’s case may be intentionally ambiguous, making it seem on the one hand that he is now attempting to forget the truth he knows in his heart, and on the other hand as though he is orchestrating a performance so as not to incur the blame of his people. 27. 28. 29. 30. The Mahabharata. The Mahabharata. The Mahabharata. The Mahabharata. Smith, John D. Tranquility, pp. 599. Tranquility, pp. 608. Smith, John D. Tranquility, pp. 609. Tranquility, pp. 609. Primary Texts Smith, John D. The Mahabharata. [Penguin Classics: London, England] 2009. Van Buitenen, J.A.B. The Mahabharata. [University of Chicago Press: Chicago) 1981. 57 �That Fair Passion; Dejection and Desire in Alexander Pushkin's Eugene Onegin Mary Creighton In magnis et voluisse sat est. To once have wanted is enough in great deeds. -Propertius In Eugene Onegin, Alexander Pushkin invites his readers into the world of the title character, an emotionally disintegrating nineteenthcentury Russian dandy. Years after Onegin’s marriage refusal of the tenderfooted and callow young Tatyana, their reunion marks a grand departure in Onegin's character. We find that this departure in character is not merely an aberration in the behavior of the Onegin readers had come to recognize, but rather a spiritual renaissance. Contrary to the familiar romantic indifference of Onegin, we see an obsessive and energetic man. It is at this crowning moment in the narrative that Pushkin turns his pen to the quandary of humanity at large. Pushkin writes. Meanwhile, Eugene was vainly thrusting Tatyana’s image from his mind: Not of poor shy Tatyana-trusting, In love, obscure, unrefined. But of the princess who serenely. Like sheltered godhead, ruled the queenly The lush imperial Neva. Ah, men! The curse of Eve, our far Progenetrix is still enduring: The proffered palls, half-concealed. The tree, the serpent ever wield Their immemorial mystic luring. Forbidden fruit we still implore. Or Eden Eden is no more. (VIII.27) The fact that we, as readers, are grouped in the address "Ah men’’ (Arndt, 208) and "Oh humans! All of you resemble ancestress Eve” (Nabokov, 58 �VIII.27.8], indicates that we too share the insatiable and dissatisfied nature that Pushkin relates. Here, we find ourselves forced into a more sympathetic attitude toward our hero, Onegin. After all, he is the very epitome of this insatiable nature. As we recall, nothing profoundly satisfies his soul. What we, as readers, once passed off as mere ennui, we share with our protagonist in this passage. In casting ourselves in the role of the insatiable Onegin, we recognize that we too suffer from "our far progenetrix" and an "immemorial mystic luring" (Arndt, 208], We are thus forced to either re-evaluate our protagonist, or admit that we are in no way superior to the man we once considered a gilded youth, cold and self-indulgent. In either case, we find that somehow we have had a change of heart. Suddenly, we sympathize with Onegin. Both the "immemorial" quality of this luring, and the fact that we are forced to acknowledge ourselves as victims, introduces this spiritual malaise as a universal and timeless experience. What is Pushkin telling us in this passage? Are we to assume he means that spiritual satisfaction is incompatible with human life? If so, is it attributed to our natures or a misguided mind? Pushkin writes. Forbidden fruit we still implore. Or Eden Eden is no more. (VIII.27.13-14] There are two possible ways to interpret this passage. In both cases we find that our desire for the forbidden fruit is the very prerequisite for Eden’s existence. First, let us consider the simpler interpretation. The forbidden fruit, our desire, is the prerequisite so that Eden may exist. Rather, it is only with the satisfaction of our desires that life becomes paradise to us. This explains why in Nabokov’s translation we see written, tersely, "you must be given the forbidden fruit, / for Eden otherwise is not Eden to you" (VIII.27.13-14]. However, let us consider another possibility. If we return to Arndt’s translation we read, "forbidden fruit we still implore, / Or Eden Eden is no more." In this rendering we see a darker, potentially more hopeless reflection of humankind. With this interpretation, it may not in fact be the receipt of our desires that marks paradise, but perhaps it is the very human act of wanting, desire itself, that distinguishes it. Read this way, it is the imploring that causes Eden to exist. What is so paradisical about desire? How can we justify this claim if it means that in an unsatisfied state, we are actually in paradise? To explore this idea, one must first consider Onegin’s dissatisfaction and his later heartbreak. 59 �Onegin’s Two States of Being If Onegin is in some way consistently unfulfilled throughout the entire novel, what marks the difference between his earlier sate of ennui and his latter torment at Tatyana’s rejection? Upon reflection, we find that there are two kinds of dissatisfaction that we see in Onegin. Put simply, there is one state in which he experiences mere ennui and another in which he is consumed by desire. The latter is powerful, rich, active, and full of soul and yearning. Essentially, it is a lively human experience. In contrast, the former is a static experience. His dissatisfaction resembles a desire-less misery rather than a noble asceticism. The time that Onegin is filled most with desire is in the end of the novel, when his unrequited love for "queenly” Tatyana causes him to ache and desperately reach out to her indifferent heart. Yet, it is no surprise to recognize that it is in this moment that we feel most sympathetic for Onegin. We want Tatyana and Onegin to embrace. Further, we want him to be satisfied. We want them reconciled. The moment we wish most for Onegin’s happiness is the moment when he appears most human to us. He is not simply apathetic and motionless in a state of malaise or ennui. Rather, he is passionate and full of life. How is one then to reconcile Onegin’s grave torment with idyllic paradise? The answer is found in Onegin’s passion, not his torment. Torment here has an object, a direction. In Onegin’s prior episodes, we see that his torment is stagnant and merely internal. Onegin’s Early Ennui From birth, Onegin is described as "likeable, yet wild” (1.3.8]. This wild nature and beginning is a far cry from his young adult life. "Likeable, yet wild" suggests that the two qualities are at odds with one another. However, once Onegin joins society, he learns the part of "London’s dandy fashion" (1.4.6). His "likeable" and "wild" sides cease to be at odds. Rather, the latter gives way to the former until no "wild’’-ness is detectable in his character. "Society’s verdict ran," he is now merely "a bright and very nice young man" (V.4.14]. From the time of his early entrance into fashionable society, Onegin slips into a careless depression. The narrator tells us that Onegin was "To hold life cheap for Sound" and "took forever/ lambic for trochaic verse" (1.7.1-4): 60 �What early meant in equal measure His toil, his torment, and his pleasure. What occupied at every phase The leisured languor of his days. Was the pursuit of that Fair Passion Which Ovid sang, and for its sake Was doomed to drain, in mutinous ache. His glittering life’s remaining ration. (1.8.5-12) In this stanza Pushkin informs his readers that Eugene was, in his early youth, occupied with "the pursuit of that Fair Passion." Onegin longs not only for passion but the "Passion" of which Ovid sang. It is interesting to consider that the kind of passion that most resounds within Onegin was that expressed so eloquently by Ovid, a prolific writer best known for his elegiac love poetry. It is this very passion, we are told in an ominous moment of foreshadowing, that will later "drain" the remainder of his life. Like the wild nature of his youth, Onegin's love for poetry dissipates upon his entrance into fashionable society. This Ovidian passion is lost in the "leisured languor" that we are told marks his young adult days from here on out. We see that this passion is revived upon reunion with Tatyana, but lies lifeless and dormant before that fateful reunion. We learn in the very next stanza that his passion had turned to contrivance. Furthermore, any earnestness is overcast by a philanderer’s contrivance; "How soon he learnt to feign emotion" (1.10.1). In the following two stanzas we are told that his romantic exchanges are both active and insincere. He "act[ed],’’ "seem[ed],’’ "scared," "[a]mazed," "[sjeized," "lure[d],’’ "implore[d]," and even "ambush[ed]’’ his "prey" [1.10.2,4;!.11.2,3,5,8-10,14). In stanza 19 of Chapter One, the narrator first introduces the banal and tiresome repetition of St. Petersburg social life and the theatre that serves as its epicenter. Here, the stage becomes reminiscent of Eugene’s fashionable life itself. Speaking of the cast, the narrator laments, Are you the same? Have others banished And barred, yet not replaced you all? Or will the listless eye not see On tedious stage familiar faces. Scan with distraught binoculars An alien world bereft of stars; 61 �Shall I be yawning at the cast And mutely hanker for the past? [1.19.3-14) Here, both Saint Petersburg’s fashionable society and the theatrical cast are "tedious faces” whose platitudinous and dizzying repetition induces merely a yawn from its audience. St. Petersburg, in all its fashion, "makes for cultured whimsy / Of novelties polite and flimsy" [1.23.5-6). This world is not reminiscent in any way of Onegin’s "wild" youth and Ovidian passion, but is "an alien world bereft of stars." The theater, like his very life, inspires little more than a "hanker[ing] for the past," when life still appeared before him in all its glitter and possibility. Although he is unaware, our hero is reminiscing about his childhood, before life was reduced to a mere bromide, eliciting a "listless" spirit and a yawninspiring ennui. Eugene has only "an absent gaze at the ballet / then with a yawn he turn[s] away" [1.21.10-11). Our languishing protagonist has "seen it all," claiming that "on me ballets have lost their hold / Diderot himself now leaves me cold" [1.21.6,13-14). In Nabokov’s translation we see a more sentimental response to the theater. The characters that were once "full of soul” in Nabokov’s translation are met with a "mournful gaze" rather than a "listless eye." The actors are referred to as "goddesses," an image more akin to muses that entertain and inspire. These fallen goddesses are met with a cry, "Hark my sad voice"! But the muses do not listen; one is left merely "disenchanted" and rendered mute in a sea of voices that comprise the tepid indifference of a madding crowd. Onegin’s life at this point is "ceaseless play,” an expression of "youth’s bloom, free of prohibition" [1.36.9). However, the freedom and bloom hold no genuine pleasure for the hero. "Each day a feat, his life a game,” we are told [1.36.10). In the midst of this reflection our narrator pauses to ask his readers, "Was he content with his condition? / Or was he hearty and inane / Amid carousals— but in vain?" [1.36.11-14). It is not hard to conceive that the answer for both the readers and the narrator is emphatically, "Yes" [1.37.1). The narrator continues, "Feeling early cooled within him; / He came to loathe that worldly grind; / Proud beauties could no longer win him / And uncontested rule his mind" [1.37.1-4). The "constant inconstancy turns dreary" and of "friends and friendship [Eugene] grew weary" [1.37.5-6). He becomes "overfed” with social life [1.37.13). Onegin becomes "strange," "embittered," "wry” and "gloomy" because "Life had numbed all vest,” extinguishing "the glow” within "his 62 �breast" (1.38.9; 1.45.10-11). We are told that he becomes "infected” with a "disease" colloquially referred to as "the Blues" (1.38.4-5). He "ceased to notice anything" other than the dull ache within his impassive chest (1.38.14). The narrator expounds, Eugene has had his measure. Apostate from the whirl of pleasure, He has withdrawn into his den And, yawning, reached for ink and pen. He tried to write— from such tenacious Endeavor, though, his mind recoiled; And so the paper stayed unsoiled. (1.43.5-14) Pushkin makes it clear that his torment is less an emotional enterprise than one born from boredom. This is seen in the very fact that Pushkin continually accompanies Onegin's distress with the act of yawning rather than a strictly emotional response. By stanza 43 of Chapter One, Onegin has yawned four times, yet never once wept or otherwise complained.' His distress is a stagnant malaise, devoid of living grief or impassioned fervor. Described as an "apostate,” Onegin appears before us clad with pen and paper as a strange kind of psychological turncoat. He has not only left his previous life behind but has deserted the pleasures that once amused him. He remains to us now as a mere derelict, longing for the catharsis of the pen, but finding instead only a vacant mind and "unsoiled" paper. His mind "recoils" because he cannot yet transfer outward to paper the distress he experiences within. His distress is locked within himself, motionless. He is forced, therefore, to remain in a greater solitude than the mere physical kind. This image stands in stark contrast to that of his companion, Lensky, who "Across his mind the world still drew / Its web of glitter and Ado" (II.7.7-8). Similarly, Lensky only illuminates his compatriot’s mute expression. Lensky, in contrast, "never put the exalted Muse to shame: / From his proud harp there never came / Aught but exalted feelings" (11.9.10-14). Our narrator, who admits his intimacy with Onegin in "that season" of his life, tells us that Onegin acquired an "acid derogation" and a "humor, half shot-through with gall” reminiscent of "Grim epigrams' malicious drawl” (1.46. 12-14). This character type, if we may call it that, is not unfamiliar to readers who can immediately recognize this kind of "frigidly dissecting mind" (1.45.7). Onegin is a perfect portrait of the sardonic intellectual whose acerbic wit both charms us and forewarns us of erudition’s toll. 63 �While staying at his uncle’s country house, Onegin genuinely attempts to explore the world around him in hopes of finding solace in the pastoral estate. We are told, "Two days the solitary meadows / Retained for him their novel look, / The leafy groves with cooling shadows / And sedately murmuring brook" (1.54.1-4). However, his rural sensibility lasts only the two days and "Next day he did not take the trouble / To glance at coppice, hill, and stubble"; rather, they "brought on a sleepy mood" (1.54.4-6). The narrator continues to divulge that melancholy spares no victims and affects souls of every background and sort: "Spleen does not spar the landed gentry, / It needs no palaces or streets, / No cards or balls or rhymed conceits. / Spleen hovered near him like a sentry / And haunted all his waking life / Like a shadow, or a faithful wife" (1.54.12-14). Pushkin here claims that depression, or "spleen," preys on all of humankind, reiterating the notion that a life of privilege, and even Eden itself, may silence but will not satisfy the human soul. Tatyana’s quixotic enthusiasm for life and love stands in contrast to Onegin’s early ennui. Though the introduction of Tatyana is somewhat of a jocular affair, we find her to be such a lively character because of her impassioned spirit. In the hyperbolic emotional state of adolescence, her "young imagination, / Enflamed in tender, languored mood, / Had yearned for the celestial food, / Long had a throbbing agitation / In vain sought in her bosom room" (III.7.9-13). For Tatyana, "Creative fancy’s vivid creatures / Lend their imaginary features" (IIL9.5-6). All of life seems mysterious and fantastical because of her "fancy-fed imagination" (III.10.1). "Her heart is full to overflowing," it is said (III.16.5). The notion of her overflowing heart reflects a rather different mood than that of Onegin’s continual open-mouthed yawning. Also, unlike Onegin, Tatyana cannot help but express her feelings in a tumultuous outpour of emotion. However, when confiding in her nanny, Tatyana finds little comfort. Her nanny, who is described as "dim-witted," is the most bereft of passion of nearly all of the characters. She can offer nothing but simple advice and, in "prayerful awe” at Tatyana’s words, "Crossed Tatyana with her wasted claw” (III.19.13-14). It should be no surprise to us that this character, bereft of passionate inclinations, is described as having a "claw." This conjures the image of something akin to a creature, subhuman. The image of Nanny’s claw serves not only as a comical device depicting a desiccate old woman but serves doubly as a frightful image. Her very soul is what makes her animalistic and incapable of sympathy. She is therefore unable to reach out with a tender hand. She instead confides in the heavenly spirit to guide over her young mistress. 64 �It is this very idea that we must consider in our investigation of Tatyana’s frightful dream after Onegin refuses her. In his refusal, Onegin is indifferent; his minimal affection appears avuncular at best. He offers her something akin to a "sermon” (IV.17.1), presenting "simple nobility of heart" in contrast to her "quailing” (IV.18.4). After the affair with Tatyana, Onegin returns to a "state of pensive sloth” (IV.44.2). Her interpretation of Onegin as unsympathetic and devoid of passion is what makes him so frightful and alien to her "overflowing” spirit. Thus, he appears both in life and in dream to be bestial and daunting. In her dream, Onegin’s "mighty paw with razor talons” is reminiscent of the Nanny’s clawed hands (V.12.9). In the very same dream, Tatyana is chased by a bear whose sudden disappearance offers Eugene’s figure in its stead (V.16]. Even when Onegin’s figure does appear, he is the company of "nothing human,” but only "freaks” and "horrors” (V.17.1). This subconscious expression only reiterates Tatyana’s prior suspicion regarding his unsympathetic and unimpassioned nature. These qualities are merely symptoms, however, of a far more grave internal state of malaise. Even when Onegin returns from his long years of travels we find him accompanied by a morose stanza. This stanza, punctuating and pausing the plot, stands as an ode to life lost, not gained. Pushkin laments. But sad to feel, when youth has left us. That it was given us in vain. That its unnoticed flight bereft us And brought no harvest in its train: That our most fondly nursed ambitions. Our fancy’s freshest apparitions. Have swiftly wilted one by one. Like leaves by autumn blasts undone; To see no prospect but an endless Array of meals in solemn row. To watch life like a puppet show. Do as the Romans do, yet friendless. And sharing with that titled crew No single passion, taste, or view. (VIII.ll) We must observe that this ode lacks any hard punctuation to separate its statements. Rather, it is intended to flow as a single thought, mawkish and lachrymose. This passage fits our hero’s character well as we find 65 �him still peevish and morose after years abroad. We are told that in his absence, he sought "solitude wherein a shadow” (Vlll.lS. 5). It is this and only this shadow that he brings home with him. Tatyana's and Onegin's Reunion; Eugene's Transformation It is only upon Onegin and Tatyana's reunion that this spell breaks. Upon meeting the wedded Tatyana, who offers little more than disinterested amiability, Onegin is stirred within. His feelings become only more intense upon realizing that he is met with a woman content, indifferent, and seemingly disinterested in him. He is suddenly "confused and fretful," with "dreams now alluring, now regretful” (VIII.21.1,3]. These dreams "pursue” him and he finds himself in a "strange trance” that has "upset his torpid self-possession; thus, he wonders to himself if it is love he feels once again” (VIII.21.10]. Pushkin writes. The days flew; winter had retreated And here he was— still undefeated By verse, lunacy or death. And spring restored some animation: He breaks hearthside hibernation Goes driving through the morning brightness Down the embankment in a sleigh: All gold and blue, the sunbeams play On brittle floes; the fareway's whiteness Is thawing into muddy slush. And through it, whither does he rush (VIII.39] In this stanza we see that despite Tatyana's painful rejection, the winter months have not been enough to break his spirit. Something resilient, strong and life-like has awakened within him. He "breaks hearthside hibernation, and for the first time in years, wakes up early enough to confront the "morning brightness.” Even the "gold and blue” sunbeams are at "play.” During our protagonist's stay at his uncle's estate, we remember that his rural sensibility lasted only the two days and "Next day he did not take the trouble / To glance at coppice, hill, and stubble.” 66 �We find the Eugene of old to be incompatible with the man who now rushes outside and "goes driving through the morning brightness / Down the embankment in a sleigh." His "rushing" and "driving" reflects an eagerness for life and an appetite for what it may present him. This appetite is an ambition, a recognition that life does have more to offer, and reminds us of the appetite conjured by the forbidden fruit. In the cases of both Eve and Onegin, implicit in their desire is the recognition that one’s lot may improve: that one can in fact be happier, better off. To think otherwise is to denounce life as a static enterprise unworthy of our celebration. Line fourteen, where the narrator asks, "whither does he rush," is strongly reminiscent of earlier passages describing him rushing to the balls and social gatherings. We recall the narrator’s jocular yet rhetorical inquiry, "Whither does our prankster scurry?" [1.15.6). We recall the hasty manner with which he "drives out and joins the promenading" (1.15.13). Yet, it was this life of promenading and glitter that Onegin quickly came to resent. What makes this scene remarkably different is that despite Tatyana’s adamant refusals of him, he does not grow weary of his love for her. The social gatherings of the past were mere entertainment. They lacked the passion and character of lively rejuvenation. The narrator describes "his pupil" as "well-nigh inspired" (VIII.38.6). Eugene "dogs her footsteps like a waif’ (VIII.30.8). He "perseveres, won’t cease from trying, / Is ever hoping, ever vying; / With feeble hand, but greater pluck / Than he had shown in health or luck" (VIII.32.5-8). He writes his love an "impassioned message" (VIII.32.9). In his letter, Onegin is said to "expose [his] soul" in a manner unfitting to his prior self (VIII.33.6). Tatyana confronts Eugene’s passionate outpour with little more than "cold wrath” (VII.33.14). She "ignores his swoons” (VIII.32.4), and we are told "she fails to notice or— to care” (VIII. 31. 10). Though in "mortal anguish,” he is "with love’s wild fevered curse" (VIII.32. 60). His "flesh is parched with thirst" (VIll.32.62) and he "longs to clutch [her] knees, and sobbing, in supplication bent” (VIII.32.63). After Tatyana’s painful rejection, our narrator again laments, "[I]n his heart, what stormy ocean / Of feelings seething in revolt!" (VIII.48.34). Even in this torment, Onegin’s "heart" is full of "seething" feelings. As a stormy ocean confronts us with the fear of death, we feel all the more alive with passion in the presence of our mortality. It is in this very way that Eugene, despite his circumstances, is confronted with the fresh reproach of mortal life with all its pain and suffering. Additionally, we see him for the first time turning to advice, rather than offering it unwarranted, as demonstrated by his newfound 67 �obsession with “journals anxious to instruct” (Vlll.35.10]. We are told. Desires, dreams, and regrets were jumbled / In dense profusion in his soul” (VIII.36.3-4]. This dense profusion consists of a longing for Tatyana’s love and a regret for his prior mistreatment of her. Further, Pushkin recalls, "And while drowsy stupor muffles / All thought and feeling unawares, / Imagination deals and shuffles / Its rapid motley solitaires” (;viII.37.1-4). It is a morose, insular life that causes a "drowsy stupor. This stupor muffles and causes one to be "unaware” of thought and feeling. However, in his state of longing, with its "rapid motley solitaires, Eugene s imagination” is provoked. He begins to come alive in both heart and mind. Pushkin’s Eden: Reflection on the Two States A purely insular life of stagnant dejection is the mark of death and a morbid soul. When one’s torment is stifled, it becomes drowsy, an unimpassioned, wan mood. But once turned outward toward the world, one is in communion with something external to and greater than one’s self. In the same manner that "a pond without an outlet is stagnant, so his grief, without refreshment, is moribund.”^ If we are fallen beings in a post-Edenic world, then it only makes sense that the further outward we reach, the greater communion we experience with the divine. For, although there may be divine qualities within us, they lay motionless under the oppression of solipsistic malaise. This goes rather against Christian theology, which tells us that man must look inward to commune with the divine. Perhaps the terrifying prospect that Eugene Onegin faces is that were he to look inward, he would in fact find nothing at all. Left to his own devices, he lacks the ability to write poetry, to enjoy travel and leisure he lacks even a reason to live. This also means that we must interpret, through Pushkin s eyes, a new notion of Eden. Perhaps our great progenetrix, Eve herself, because of her yearning and reaching for the forbidden fruit, made Eden a paradise. She turned her life in Eden from static, lifeless acceptance— of God’s supreme power— to a dynamic, fluid, and living experience. Thus, it was at the very moment that she desired (and reached for] the forbidden fruit that she and Adam both created paradise and simultaneously thrust all of humankind from it. Eve is still enduring, is still a progenetrix, still intimately kin to us, because we as humans, in our more energetic yearnings, commune with her and the desire she embodies. She lives in us as we live. However, we only live when we want. Thus, Pushkin’s words ring far truer to us than we could 68 �ever imagine. "Ah men! The curse of Eve is still enduring ... The tree, the serpent ever wield / Their immemorial mystic luring. / Forbidden fruit we still implore, / Or Eden Eden is no more.” We are in paradise, so long as we feel desire. It is only once this fades to mere dejection that paradise no longer exists for us. For it is then that we cease to truly live. It is important to consider that both Eve an Onegin experienced a longing for things much greater than themselves. Eve extended her hand toward supreme knowledge, where Onegin toward loving companionship. It is by Eve's act that man has traded in his immortality. But what kind of exchange was it? What did she trade immortality for? Is it not odd that Pushkin would suggest Eve’s epic gesture cost man his communion with the divine, only to replace it with the chance for communion with fellow humankind? If so, what is it that human companionship offers that divine communion could not? In the case of Onegin, it is the opportunity to know himself through another. If Onegin is plagued with the empty, lachrymose soul that Pushkin has described him as possessing, then it is only through a reciprocal other that he comes to recognize himself as a living being. Could it be that he must reach outward for any sense of wholeness? The reason we sympathize more with Onegin at the end of the novel is because his dissatisfaction turns to passion. It is his very wanting that makes him lively, mortal— in summation, human and familiar to us as readers. We recognize ourselves in Onegin similarly. If it is in fact this state of human longing that makes life paradise, are we to believe that an impassioned spirit is joy itself? Is this very human experience the closest to paradise that we will ever be? Pushkin seems, in fact, to be telling us so. Whether in jubilance or despair, it is an imperfect life that offers us joy. It is this life, ultimately, that offers us the chance to know ourselves, imperfectly human as we are. Endnotes * All citations are taken from translation by Walter Arndt unless otherwise noted. 1. 2. 38.12; 1.21.11; 1.19.13; 1.1.13. Cartmell, Nathan. Intimations of Re-Creation From Recollections of Dejection and joy. 69 �Primary Text Pushkin, Alexander. Eugene Onegin. Translated by Walter Arndt. Dana Point, California: Ardis Publishers, 1981. 70 �Made in the USA 12559718R00041 Charleston, SC 12 May 2012 ��781475 � 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 Early Writings: An Academic Journal Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource St. John's College Meem Library 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 Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 83 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 Early writings : an academic journal, 2012 Description An account of the resource The annual academic journal published by the Graduate Institute in Santa Fe. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Creighton, Mary (Editor) 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 Santa Fe Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2012 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 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Carr, Casey (Editor) Wilhite, Jesse (Editor) Connolly, Brian (Editor) Allan, Jeffrey (Editor) Kilani, Anastasia (Cover Design) Boor, Jeremy Falconer, Joshua McGee, Bethany Leveriza, Daphne Resor, Turner Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context SF_Early_Writings_2012 Academic journal Early Writings Student publication https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/6f1e027be42dbb0e0c4f965b7c5a1c44.pdf db5cb269b59e92b4db22c2ec747cd7bd 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 Maryland Collegian Description An account of the resource The Maryland Collegian was published monthly by the St. John's literary societies. This should not be confused with the publication entitled <em>The St. John's Collegian</em>, which is a different publication.<br /><br /><span>Click on </span><a href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=42&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate" title="Items in the Maryland Collegian Collection">Items in the Maryland Collegian Collection</a><span> to 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 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 Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 8 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 Maryland Collegian, October 1877 Description An account of the resource Vol. II, No. I of the Maryland Collegian. Published in October 1877. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Crockett, J. S. (Editor) Mudd, S. E. (Editor) 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 1877-10 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 Vol.2 no.1 Oct 1877 Maryland Collegian https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/707e7c6c412d9873011a8ac75a334460.pdf a3120033dcde1942cc9e6a76d0d1d05b 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 Maryland Collegian Description An account of the resource The Maryland Collegian was published monthly by the St. John's literary societies. This should not be confused with the publication entitled <em>The St. John's Collegian</em>, which is a different publication.<br /><br /><span>Click on </span><a href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/browse?collection=42&amp;sort_field=Dublin+Core%2CDate" title="Items in the Maryland Collegian Collection">Items in the Maryland Collegian Collection</a><span> to 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 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 Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 8 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 Maryland Collegian, February 1878 Description An account of the resource Vol. II, No. V of the Maryland Collegian. Published in February 1878. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Crockett, J. S. (Editor) Mudd, S. E. (Editor) 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 1898-02 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 Vol.2 no.5 Feb 1878 Maryland Collegian https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/27c592006dd65c025cf5f0636ef73e2b.MP3 d76af09864391372d6f7ef9d5bd4144d 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. Duration Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.) 00:58:08 Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data wav 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 LEC_Crockett_Steven_2015-07-01_ac Title A name given to the resource Tocqueville's American Odyssey Description An account of the resource Audio recording of a lecture delivered on July 1, 2015, by Steven Crockett as part of the Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series. <br /><br />Mr. Crockett is a tutor at St. John's College in Annapolis. His talk centers on the year of Tocqueville's journey to and in America that would become the foundation for his work <em>Democracy in America</em>. His talk looks at letters, reflections, and memorabilia from the young Tocqueville who at that time was only 25-26. It explores his initial reactions and how those would mature into his later works and related to events happening back in France. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Crockett, Steven 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 2015-07-01 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource A signed permission form 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. Make a typescript copy of my lecture available for circulation and archival preservation in the St. John's College Greenfield Library. Make a copy of my typescript 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="Typescript" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/show/323">Typescript</a> Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available St. John's College Subject The topic of the resource Tocqueville, Alexis de, 1805-1859. Correspondence. Selections Tocqueville, Alexis de, 1805-1859. De la démocratie en Amérique. United States Language A language of the resource English Graduate Institute Summer lecture series Tutors https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/sjcdigitalarchives/original/afafcd406850a069e61f61d5d33b41d4.pdf d7c40006c132fc4e2aacaed7da7b6d60 PDF Text Text ������������������ 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 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 Page numeration Number of pages in the original item. 18 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 Toqueville's American Odyssey Description An account of the resource Typescript of a lecture delivered on July 1, 2015 by Steven Crockett as part of the Graduate Institute Summer Lecture Series.<br /><br /><span>Mr. Crockett is a tutor at St. John's College in Annapolis. His talk centers on the year of Tocqueville's journey to and in America that would become the foundation for his work <em>Democracy in America</em>. His talk looks at letters, reflections, and memorabilia from the young Tocqueville who at that time was only 25-26. It explores his initial reactions and how those would mature into his later works and related to events happening back in France.</span> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Crockett, Steven 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 2015-07-01 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource A signed permission form 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. Make a typescript copy of my lecture available for circulation and archival preservation in the St. John's College Greenfield Library. Make a copy of my typescript available online." 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 Bib # 83173 Relation A related resource <a title="Audio recording" href="http://digitalarchives.sjc.edu/items/show/272">Audio recording</a> Subject The topic of the resource Tocqueville, Alexis de, 1805-1859. De la démocratie en Amérique. United States Tocqueville, Alexis de, 1805-1859. Correspondence. Selections Graduate Institute Summer lecture series